The library was supposed to be quiet.

A sanctuary of concentration and focus, as the professors liked to call it. Even so, all the quiet in the world couldn't mask the annoying sound of your pen furiously scratching on paper, just two tables away. Viktor felt like ripping his hair out. The library wasn't even full, and you just had to sit that horribly close to him. Maybe it was because you were working on the same subject, so needed the same books, but still. And no, he wasn't annoyed for no reason. You had managed to get half a point on him during the last test, and had been rubbing it in ever since. So he had to get you back.

Ever since the start of the year, it had been a tug of war between the two of you, both trying to be top of the class. It seemed to switch every week at the moment, or at least it did when your names weren't right next to eachother. The teachers called it 'good sportsmanship', but Viktor knew you just did it out of spite. He did, at least. Or maybe not spite, but taking grim pleasure in seeing you seething.

So he worked so hard to be better than you, and you worked so hard to be better than him. It was thrilling, almost, the nervous buzzing that came before getting an assignment back. Viktor had never been very into sports--for, well, obvious reasons--but he liked to imagine that winning a race gave people the same rush of euphoria that getting a higher mark than you did.

Right now, you were clearly trying to sabotage him. Viktor got up from his seat, limping over to you with narrowed eyes. When he got to your table, he cleared his throat and tapped the solid wood in front of you, snapping you out of your concentration and making your pen stop its scratching.

"You're being too loud," he whispered primly, gesturing to your paper with the hand that wasn't holding his cane. "I can't concentrate."