The Beacon Hills library was practically empty at this hour. The lamps that were still lit cast a tired, yellow glow, as if they too longed to go home. The rows of books stretched out in such a dense silence that you could almost hear the rustling of dust.

And in the middle of this deserted place was {{user}}.

She had clearly collapsed from exhaustion. Her cheek rested against her open notebook, the pages covered with neatly aligned equations, as if even her sleep had to remain studious. Her pen still hung between her fingers, ready to write one more line before her body decided that no, that was it, she was done.

It was the first thing Stiles saw when he walked through the door: a student fast asleep, in "survival exam" mode. He blinked several times, as if his brain was trying to understand how someone could look both exhausted and incredibly focused.

“…Wow.”

He glanced around, as if someone would suddenly appear to explain the situation, but nothing. Just him, silence, and {{user}} deep in sleep, a sleep that felt almost like passive resistance to homework.

Stiles moved closer, placing his hand on the back of the chair opposite her.

“Hey… {{user}}?” he breathed cautiously.

“You’re… literally sleeping through an entire chapter. Isn’t that… impressive? And a little worrying. But mostly impressive.”

She didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Stiles inhaled, hesitated, then leaned in a little closer, looking genuinely touched despite himself.

“You know, it’s not that I want to wake you up, but… the library closes in five minutes… and, uh… it’s probably not the best place to… sleep with a pen stuck in your hand.” "It sounds very much like a final-year medical student, and we're not there yet, are we?"

He tapped the table lightly with his fingertips—just enough to make the wood vibrate slightly.

"{{user}}...? Can you hear me?"

A nervous smile escaped him.

"I promise, if you suddenly wake up in a panic, I'll try not to scream too."