The sandy scent of fresh sawdust trailed through the air, carrying a tinge of something seasoned, a familiar scent from long ago which nobody could quite identify. Books stood proudly on wooden shelves, some with spines ram-rod straight, others droopy and saggy like an old man bent double. The carpeted floor had long been trampled upon by countless shoes; scruffy sneakers, chunky heels, rubber boots, primed oxfords. Soft whispers rose from the patrons, some with heavy novels, others with notes for their term paper.

Suzy took her time fluttering through the various shelves, pausing every now and then to examine a title and tentatively flipping through its pages. Sometimes, it would go along with her, but other times she would slide it back neatly into its allocated slot. She always liked to take her time choosing her books, not only because it was hard to find a title which interested her, but more so because of a certain figure which drew her to the school library and rooted her feet to its carpeted floors.

His fair complexion was a sharp contrast to his shock of black hair, which was always messily tousled and looking like it had only suffered the brunt of a few hurried of the comb. His pale lips never seemed to curve more than a few degrees upwards, but his black eyes, which seemed to erupt from the mysterious cloak of night, would do the talking. His voice was soft, reminding her of waves crashing against sand at ungodly hours, the quite whispers of the endless blue cajoling the golden grains to enter its embrace. His angled chin and prominent cheekbones gave him boyish good looks, and she knew that she was not the only one who’s eyes would turn to him, savour him, drink him all in.

Today was no different. Glancing around, she could see the curious glances peeking from above books towards the checkout counter, eyes that would later register with admiration. Suzy looked down at her feet, feeling the familiar weight anchoring her down to the depths of despair. Taking in a deep breath, she clutched the books closer to her chest and made her way over to the checkout counter, heart beat increasing just that tiny bit with every step she took.

“Good afternoon.”

The waves grew intense.

“Good afternoon.”

She slid the books over to him. His eyebrows rose upon seeing her pick, and she thought she imagined the slightest of smiles graze his lips. He scanned her books for her before sliding them back to her. She acknowledged him with a tiny nod, gathered up her books, and tried to exit calmly like she wasn’t dying to stay.

Kim Myungsoo, he was a creature of sorts, he was.

She was never an avid reader, but because of his existence she suddenly entered worlds she never knew she never knew, worlds of oblivion and doubt and twisted imaginations. She watched Gatsby court Daisy, went to Cancer Kid Support Group with Hazel, shed a few tears when Morrie passed on, and played Norwegian Wood more than a few times on her old stereo. She grew to love the way words sounded strung together, and the different perspectives each novel offered, the way life was presented so vividly and so ghastly all at the same time.

As her love for books grew, so did her love for him. She loved that she saw an entirely different world between those deep, dark eyes of him, she loved the way certain book choices drew a rare smile from him, and she loved how he remained oblivious to all the relentless admiration brazenly displayed by the girls who would never understand his sombre silence. She loved how he kept silent but spoke a thousand words, she loved how he was a mystery and an open book, she loved how he was smooth and clumsy, she loved how he could fly but chose to stay on the ground, she loved how he was intelligent and ignorant; she loved a thousand and one things about him.

And so she kept going back.

Afternoons were spent regularly at the library, and she swallowed the entire collection of novels that were available there. Even when she hadn’t finished the ones she borrowed, she borrowed some more, or took the books with her to spend a good hour or two being absorbed in the world of words, only to be sometimes distracted by a glimpse of him. His presence was comforting, a familiar figure even though they had never exchanged more than “good afternoon”. In her opinion, they didn’t need to. She felt they connected on a level that did not require words, even if that level might have only been imaginary. On a good day, he added on to her outburst of good vibes, and on a bad day, he took away the clouds and her sky would become clear again.

It was funny, sometimes, she would think, that she would be in love with the school librarian. It made her laugh when she thought about it. Bae Suzy, simple schoolgirl, in love with the school librarian, Kim Myungsoo.

Her favourite memory of him was the day when it was raining cats and dogs; the raindrops slithered off the glass windows, racing one another only to dissolve into a puddle of water as they reached the already damp ground. She was the only one in the library, and there were only ten minutes to closing. Surprisingly, he had a record on, and his eyes were closed as his rested his chin on his elbow, looking with every part the young dreamer.

Imagine all the people,

Sharing all the world,

You may say I’m a dreamer,

But I’m not the only one,

I hope someday you can join us,

And the world will live as one.

For days afterward she replayed those lyrics in her head, the serene image of him always looping in her mind like a movie. She would lie on her bed, covers up to her chin, listening to the same tune she had heard in those few minutes. And that was when she decided to fill her head with dreams so that she could join him.

He had, she supposed, grown accustomed to her presence. She liked that she was a regular, and she always took the same spot, the ragged old beanbag under the amber lamp attached to the ceiling. It was her spot; indeed, the beanbag seemed to have moulded into the shape it took on when she sank into it. She was proud that she was a regular, proud that she knew almost every nook and cranny of the school library, proud that she shared moments with the school librarian that no one knew about.

For three whole years she kept on borrowing books, sitting in that same old beanbag and exchanging the same greetings with the boy she loved. For three years she loved whole-heartedly, indulging herself in his world of oblivion. She would have loved to always borrow books, to always sit in that same old beanbag, to always exchange the same greeting with the boy she loved, to always love whole-heartedly. But alas, graduation day came. Hats were thrown, tears shed, hugs and kisses shared by everyone and anyone under the sun. She missed him in the sea of people, could not catch one more glimpse of the boy she loved. She searched, she did, desperately, but there were no mystical eyes boring into hers, none at all. She left that day with the sense of something lost forever, something she had let slipped from her hands, something she knew would never return to her ever again.

Bae Suzy, three whole years, and there you were, indulging in your unrequited love.

Silly girl.

And silly girl she was, for she failed to notice that while school librarians usually signed on for usually a year, Kim Myungsoo had signed on for three years. Three years, to be there while she borrowed books, to see her sit in that same beanbag, to exchange the same greetings with the girl he loved. For three years, he loved whole-heartedly, indulging in her world of oblivion.

Living in one of his own.