He glanced around the party—laughter spilling from every corner, clinking glasses, voices rising over the soft hum of music. The house seemed alive, saturated with noise, and yet, in the midst of it, he felt the familiar thrum of unease. He liked noise—music, rain tapping on a window, birds in the early morning, the wind in bare branches—but people’s noise was different. Harsh. Chaotic. Intrusive.

He slipped away from the crowd, moving toward the library, loosening the tie around his neck as if unfastening a noose. The air inside was cooler, calmer, tinged with the scent of old paper and polished wood. He took a sharp breath when a sudden sound punctured the quiet. His body tightened instinctively, every nerve alert.

His gaze snapped toward the source. A figure stood there—a person he hadn’t expected.

{{user}}?

Years ago, they had begged him for friendship, wide-eyed and insistent. He had refused. Too noisy. Too inquisitive. Too… present.

He struck a match, the flame briefly illuminating the library’s shadowed corners, and brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly. The smoke curled around him like a shield.

“Shouldn’t you be in the ballroom with all the other guests?” he asked, his tone measured, casual, though the words carried a sharper edge than intended. He adjusted the cigarette between his fingers, studying {{user}}’s expression, searching for some trace of the person who once pressed themselves into his life.