"Too bad Room 33 is closed today," Nathaniel said as they settled down at one of the more secluded tables in the library.
"I don't mind, the library isn't too bad for one day," Marc said. "Besides, I have to work on an English project today, too."
"Oh?"
Marc nodded.
"Literature studies, but also pronunciation, I guess. Some kind of classic poetry...I don't know what I'm going to do, though."
"Need help picking?" Nathaniel offered. "I read a bit of English literature here and there, myself."
"Oh, yeah, sure," Marc said. "I didn't realize you'd be the type..."
"I do prefer mostly comic books, but I can't resist the odd dark macabre tale," Nathaniel explained. "The Raven is a classic."
"Sure, let's just keep it basic," Marc shrugged, reaching for it, but Nathaniel held it away.
"Bold of you to call Poe 'basic'," he challenged.
"Sorry?" Marc asked.
"I'm joking," Nathaniel assured him. "But Poe is anything but basic. You sure you can take his stuff?"
"I think I'll be fine," Marc mumbled. "What is this even about?" he asked, examining the cover.
Nathaniel grinned.
"This guy is sitting alone at night, grieving for his lost lover, when he goes paranoid at this raven he sees in his room," he summarized.
Marc blinked.
"What?" he asked.
Nathaniel nodded.
"Not your conventional classic," he reminded, sighing. "It really is a masterpiece."
"Let's get started, then," Marc shrugged, sitting down. Nathaniel sat down opposite, opening his sketchbook.
"Maybe for our next comic, we could do a darker, gothic theme," Nathaniel thought aloud, while Marc opened the library book.
"Mm, maybe," he agreed, finding the first page of The Raven, and starting, softly reading aloud.
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
' 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.' "
Marc frowned and held the book closer to his face, scanning the text with slightly confused eyes. Nathaniel half-watched him, half-absorbed in the his sketchbook, as Marc continued to read in soft, semi-broken English.
"... And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!" Marc finished, putting the book down and letting out a sigh.
"I love Poe," Nathaniel sighed dreamily, resting his chin in his hands. "What did you think?"
"It's really challenging," Marc admitted. "Isn't this the kind of stuff that native English speaker have trouble with?"
"I guess, yeah," Nathaniel shrugged. "You read it really well, though," he said, smiling at Marc.
Marc flushed.
"I, uh, really?" he asked awkwardly. "Th- thanks..." he mumbled, lowering his head.
"It's your choice if you still want to do it though," Nathaniel assured him. "It just sounds so nice in your voice, though," he said, giving Marc a dreamy stare. Marc's blush deepened.
"No, I think I'll do it," he said quickly. "I- if you think I can, that is..."
"If it's not too emo for you," Nathaniel teased.
"Never," Marc assured him. "I just don't know if I can read this in front of the class without creeping them out."
"Would that be a bad thing?" Nathaniel joked.
"Uh...yeah?" Marc said dubiously.
"I'm joking, you know that, right?" Nathaniel assured him gently. "Trust me, you'll do great. Even if they think you sound creepy, you've got this emo's heartstrings tugging along with every line."
Marc had to hide his blush then, and gave Nathaniel only half a mumbled excuse before he grabbed his things and dashed out of the library.
***
In the end, Marc's classmates were only awed by his English proficiency - his teacher particularly impressed by his fluency and comprehension of the classic poem, but none of that compared to Nathaniel's reaction when Marc showed him his brand-new idea for a new comic book, complete with a dark English poem that would make the Father of Macabre himself proud.