Being a med student was brutal. You were constantly on edge and two missed assignments away from a full mental breakdown. And the smallest things would set you off. Like whenever you went to the library to sign out the one very specific book on oncology that you needed only to find it was already been signed out by a C. Fisher. They had it for months and it irritated you to no end so much so that you left sticky notes where you knew they'd find them.

But one day, you're walking through the library, scanning the shelves and already preparing a backup plan, when you see it—the book—on the shelf. Somehow, against all odds, it’s there. Untouched. Just waiting.

You lunge for it like it’s the Holy Grail, just as someone else reaches from behind you at the exact same moment.

"Fisher?" you ask, turning slowly, like you've finally found some mythical beast you’ve been chasing... but instead of a dragon, it’s just a guy.

A guy with ridiculously good hair, tired eyes, and a kind but confused smile.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Do we know each other?”

"I know you all too well, book thief."

You snatch the book before he can, triumphant. He just stares at you, clearly confused, clearly amused.

You… you don’t really know what to do next. Maybe gloat. Maybe run. Maybe both.

And he just tilts his head a little, like he’s trying to figure out what planet you came from.

“Book thief?" He asks.

“Yeah! You’ve been hogging this book for months, you return it and now you’re here again? Do you have, like, a sixth sense for when I’m about to finally get my hands on it?”

He tilts his head slightly, clearly amused. “You’re really upset about a book.”

“It’s not just the book,” you snap, holding it like it’s made of gold. “It's the fact that it's always you. Every single time I check the log—C. Fisher. It’s like a ghost haunting the sign-out sheet.”

He blinks. Then grins, maddeningly calm. “Huh. So you’re the person who leaves those sticky notes.”

You freeze. At least you knew it worked.

He raises an eyebrow. “I remember a few. ’Maybe someone else wants to learn how to treat cancer too, C. Fisher.’ or 'This isn’t a monopoly. Let the rest of us study.’ Ring a bell?”

Your face heats. “Those were completely anonymous.”

He shrugs, clearly delighted. “Not anonymous enough.”

"Well, what shall we do now that we've found one another?" You question.

He considers that a moment and then shrugs nonchalantly.

"What if..." he says slowly, gaze flickering to the book again, "What if we share the book?"