A/N: And so a bigger problem has decided to ruin my schedule completely. I am suddenly employed in my university to teach, and I am seriously upset that it affected my mood to update sooner. I love being a bummer, really! (But I guess it doesn't hurt to earn again.) And this chapter has got to be the lamest, shortest chapter I've ever written. Sorry. :(

Again and again, thank you to Lu, cheng and shortygirl333 for believing in me. Because nobody else had been vocal about their praise/criticism but you, amazing people. LOL

Act 35, Winter

That sharp scent that only belonged to the freshly opened volumes briefly suffused her senses, promising her of little surprises from unearthing mysteries in the either glossy or parched pages, vivid pictures, enigmatic titles and names on the covers. Gloved hands dug inside the package, easing the books from their cardboard confinement like an indispensable liberation of sorts.

More often than not she was focused with her errands, but right then her eyes just gingerly fixed themselves on her only companion as he made his way to the reading area again.

It was highly amusing to see a grown man gather several books about baking. Eriol didn't seem like the person who would even be interested in flat cakes or the diverse measures of how to correctly create a particular kind, yet there he was, flipping to the next page of the first illustration book in his hands and looking more and more distracted at the colorful presentations. He had taken his place nearest the large, textured windows, where the filtered lighting was neither blaring nor muted.

Tomoyo didn't think he'd even spend his time like this, because he was usually productive in his activities, studying music theory or rehearsing piano pieces, but she supposed he had no better use for it at the moment. If he stayed at home, he still wouldn't play the piano and would only mope in his room, doing nothing but just lying on his bed with his back against the door. He coped with distress like that, she observed sadly, and regardless of it all, he looked physically restless and strained. One time he resulted to abusing his cat, Suppi, by teasing it endlessly with a mouse-shaped toy hovered beyond the pet's reach. In spite of this choice of amusement he had been anyway absentminded all throughout the episode, and Suppi, as if realizing that nothing fruitful was to come out of the activity, eventually got frustrated and bored.

There were at least two huge boxes with the newly-arrived books about economics, languages and interior designing that needed to be carted to and sorted in their corresponding files. She set off to work on them right away, grouping the interior designing books first, which should be conveniently stacked near the podium that overlooked the neat rows of reading desks. Her employer had gone out to transport older prints to the next community library and to exchange them for newer copies, while her co-worker was on a scheduled day-off, leaving her in the building to quietly work on her own.

Her thoughts promptly flew back to the azure-eyed man in that lonesome corner as she was slipping a hardback on a vacant spot just a little above her head. He was probably still leafing through the same book with that absorbed expression on his pale face, a short pile of similar tomes right beside his lean arm. She really wouldn't know what he was doing now that she had her back turned against him, but she couldn't help her curiosity.

So she peeked, which was actually the second colossal mistake of the day, because now she had to be caught red-handed again. His thoughtful eyes were not on what he was supposed to be reading but on her. It looked like he hadn't been too attentive with his book for a while.

In her shame and surprise, she self-consciously let go of the book, fatefully dropping it on her head, the crashing sound of a hardbound colliding the hollow wooden platform resonating throughout the old building.

"Itai..."

She knew she earned the punishment for being too curious, but she wished payback didn't hurt this much.

"Genki desu ka. Should we put some ice for that sore spot?" The tone of his clear voice was marked with concern, yet there was also hilarity laced in it.

Tomoyo cursed in her mind, still rubbing the top of her head even if the pain had already significantly dwindled. If she stopped doing it, maybe all the blood in her body would rush to her head, and she'd be too red in the face that Eriol would notice. Never mind if he was really about several meters away from her.

"But all the snow had melted," Tomoyo vaguely answered, coloring anyway. All the hair at the back of her neck were standing in humiliation.

She turned to see the pianist staring at the book in his hands again as if he never even moved since he started reading, a phantom of laughter and contented smile on his lips. There was no sign of the bitterness and torment that had deeply marred his face earlier.

The former heiress smiled to herself, not really understanding why she was happy. She assumed that Eriol's entertainment would always be at her expense, and it was alright because she didn't, wouldn't mind at all. That instance in the practice room where he had laughed at her profuse apologizing was a distinct evidence.

The fallen book, which was in fact lighter than it appeared, was set on its intended place before she went on meticulously organizing the others, the faint hum of Norihiro Tsuru's Last Carnival serenading the only connected souls in the friendless library.