"This horrible umbrella won't extend! Oh shit I just hit you in the stomach/crotch! I'm so sorry!" + Elucien
Libraries were supposed to be quiet places.
Elain had always liked quiet places. Not too quiet, mind, because silence brought its own kind of discomfort, but the sort of quiet that was warm and soft at the edges like an old blanket.
Usually, libraries qualified.
Setting foot in the campus library that day, Elain knew that her sanctuary had officially been violated.
Dropping her sodden umbrella into the bin by the door, Elain wiped her shoes on the mat before stepping onto the carpet. The library was brimming with students driven indoors by the rain, filling up the tables and milling around the stacks. Elain had come there to study, but it looked like she'd be fetching the books she needed and relocating somewhere that smelled a little less like cheese.
Someone was having a picnic in the Ancient History section.
Elain marched up to the front desk, dodging an abandoned skateboard on the way. Mrs Carlyle was an older woman, the stereotypical librarian to a T … almost. She wore burgundy wrap dress, pearl earrings, and her glasses on a chain. She was also listening to music through her headphones loud enough to drown out any sound in the library. Metallica, from Elain could tell.
She reached over to get Mrs Carlyle's attention, finding the task impossible. The big glass bay window behind her showed the reflection of her screen, and she was … playing solitaire?
Sighing, Elain craned her neck to see if she could find the books she'd had put on reserve for her. Sure enough, they sat there in a neat stack with a small note in Mrs Carlyle's precise handwriting: Archeron, Elain. And she could almost reach them …
"Having trouble?"
Elain looked up, feeling as though she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. A man stood there, one she recognised from around the place. A TA, if she wasn't mistaken–and it would be hard to be mistaken here, as he was certainly distinctive. Tall, lean, red-haired and with a scar over his left eye that extended down towards his jawline like a tear.
"Uh, yeah," she said, flustered. "I can't seem to–" She waved a hand in Mrs Carlyle's general direction, receiving an understanding nod from him in return.
Stepping up to the other spot behind the desk, he put a hand on the stack of books she'd been eyeing. "These yours?"
"Yes, thank you."
He put them through quickly, as though he'd done it before. "There you go, Archeron, Elain," he said, sliding them towards her. "Your bag looks kind of full. Do you have a tote bag or something to carry them in? It's raining pretty heavily out there."
"No, but I'll be fine." She cringed at how casual she sounded. He was a TA hanging out in the library. A very cute TA hanging out at the library. She shouldn't sound so flippant about the health of the books she borrowed. "I won't let them get wet, obviously–"
"Obviously," he repeated, smirking. "Look, I'm on my way out. I came here to get some work done, but, well …"
"The library has turned into the quad?"
His grin twisted his scar, or perhaps it was the other way around. Either way, it was endearing. "What I mean to say is, if you need help navigating the puddles with your umbrella, books, and very heavy-looking bag, I'd be happy to play the good samaritan."
"You've already done well enough at that." She considered his proposal for a moment, and a moment was all it took. "But I'd really appreciate it if you would."
"All right, Archeron, Elain." He pushed out from behind the desk, squeezing Mrs Carlyle's shoulder on his way past. She waved him off, not bothering to remove her headphones. "Into the storm we go."
He took her books from her, walking with her to the front door. "I'm Vanserra, Lucien."
"Meaning Lucien's your first name?"
"I think we should address one another formally, Archeron, Elain. We're in a library, after all."
Laughing, she grabbed her umbrella from the tin full of them, wrinkling her nose at the inch of dirty water gathered in the bottom. They stepped outside, still under the awning and shielded from the rain. The cold air still whipped at their faces and hands, devouring every and any inch of exposed skin it could find.
Good, thought Elain. Maybe it would combat her blush.
The umbrella was finicky, a relic left over from her youth. She didn't quite have the funds to buy one of better quality, so she was left with this, the light blue colour faded until it almost matched the white polka-dots. The mechanism was rusted and stubborn, refusing to do anything more than click at Elain angrily as she tried to deploy the umbrella. Was that the right term? Deploy? Perhaps Lucien knew–
The umbrella flared to life with a pained cry … nope, that had not been the umbrella.
Her books toppled to the (blessedly dry) pavement with a series of thuds, followed by Lucien's knees in short order. He doubled over, hands clutching his stomach right where she'd hit him with the tip of the umbrella.
"Oh my god!" Elain exclaimed, dropping down beside him to the sounds of hooting and hollering coming from inside the library. Apparently her utter mortification was amusing. "I'm so, so sorry–"
"It's fine," he said, voice strained. "You missed anything vital."
"Should I–should I call someone?" She cursed at herself internally. What a ridiculous thing to say–
"I don't think an ambulance will be necessary, but thank you." Lucien started gathering the books up, moving to his feet. "How about you take the books and I'll manage the umbrella."
"That sounds like a good idea," Elain said, relieved to see him on his feet.
Looking past her, he sighed. "There's just one slight problem with that."
Elain peeked back over her shoulder, horrified at the sight that greeted her: her umbrella, spiralling away at the wind's whim.
So that's what the people inside had been laughing at.
"I'd chase after it myself, but I'm still a little winded from my near-fatal stabbing at your hands."
Elain squawked indignantly, dropping her bag of textbooks on the ground–
And right onto his foot.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she cried.
"Elain," he grunted. "The umbrella, please."
"Oh, right!" Turning her collar up against the wind, Elain ran out into the rain, boots splashing in the puddles as she tried to catch the umbrella now blowing haphazardly over the lawn. It took her three tries of getting a fingertip's length from it only to have it ripped away from her by the wind before she finally had it in her hand. She sprinted back to Lucien, soaked to the skin by the time she returned.
"Enjoy that, did you?" she asked, noting his grin.
"Very much," he confirmed, holding her bag out to her. "My favourite part was when you ran back with the umbrella and didn't think to use it to keep yourself dry."
Elain groaned. "Shut up or I'll poke you again."
Exchanging the umbrella for the books, Elain was left with the carrying duties and Lucien with the umbrella from hell (umbr-hella, Elain's mind supplied unhelpfully). They stepped out into the rain at last, departing to the sound of applause and cheers from their gathered audience in the library.
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