Synopsis: What happens when an English assignment and Shakespeare bring two young souls together?

Genre: Friendship, Romance, Humour

Ending: Pre-Game

Rating: K+

The Library

The Day We Read Shakespeare

Christopher.

You are not a genius.

He rubs the irritated flesh on either side of his nose where his glasses had been resting a moment ago. His unfocused eyes stare frustratedly at the English assignment laid out in front of him. His eyes had begun to hurt with his glasses on. Now they hurt even more with them off.

Chris is a logical mind. He excels almost effortlessly in subjects like math and physics. Give him a computer science paper and he'll get an A without even breathing. But when it comes to anything remotely... right brain (disclaimer: not that he supports the term. It's an obvious myth), he's a complete and utter flop.

With a groan, Chris slides his glasses back. As much as he wants to ignore it, he has to actually be able to read the homework to complete it.

"What did Shakespeare mean," He reads aloud, squinting at the small, black printed words on the page, "by 'The course of true love never did run smooth'?" His mouth makes an incredulous, confused and highly exasperated motion. "I don't know," he exclaims, burying his face in his hands. He had to write a two thousand word essay on this? 'Don't forget to include cultural context,' his teacher had stated in front of the whole class, 'as well as story context.'

Chris faceplants the desk, mumbling into his arms and shrugging exhaustedly, "Give up on dating? Become a hermit? Stock up on instant noodles and netflix?" He grumbles, the sound muffled against the wood of the desk. His glasses are digging into the corners of his eyes where they knock against the desk and he affirmatively regrets ever putting them back on.

The library had been the first place he'd thought of when he'd realised he only had a week left to finish the assignment. Okay, so he'd been avoiding it. But no living human being can resist the call of Call of Duty. Or the call of a persistent best friend.

So the library had been the best option. Mainly because hardly anybody ever visits it. Maybe because he knows he wouldn't be able to focus at home. Maybe because there are plenty of tables here to go around. Maybe because the librarian just happened to have a day off that day.

It totally had nothing to do with a particular redhead that might be lurking around here somewhere.

Just at that, somebody flops down beside him. He hears the sound of the creaking, library chair. "Having a tough time there, Romeo?"

A long, desperate sigh drags out of Chris' mouth as he rolls his head to the side, spotting a slightly smug Ashley.

"Don't start," he rolls back around, committing himself to burying himself into the desk. Though there's a ripple of relief that relaxes him. Just a bit. Just a tad.

Ashley chuckles, plucking the sheet of paper – the one that has been the causing all this agony for him – out from under his elbows. "What have we got here?" she hums and he can vividly imagine her excruciatingly examining it. Like she's Sherlock Holmes. She'll probably pull out a magnifying glass and deerstalker hats while she's at it.

Then Chris hears her let out a short laugh. "Is this it?" she half snorts – which is rather cute, despite the fact that she's mocking him.

Chris rocks himself up from the table, planting his shocked, narrowing eyes at her. "Do not mock me," he warns, though his tone wobbles with the teasing, almost-giggling look on her face. "Just because you're an literature prodigy. Don't look down on us meagre mortals."

She grins. It is too wide for her face and Chris kind of likes that. It's proud and confident and that's not something he sees often on her. For the time he's known her.

"Look," Ashley goes into explaining mode. "It's not that hard. Remember when we watched that Frankenstein movie and you just happened to get an essay on it the next day?"

Right. That had been about a month ago, not long after they'd met. He'd used the excuse that he wanted to give her an opportunity to tell him everything that, compared to the book, is wrong with the movie. It had inevitably helped. He had avoided mentioning any Igor's in his essay. After Ashley had stated – multiple times – that Frankenstein (the doctor, not the monster, as previously learned) had no assistant. Especially not one called Igor.

He'd actually managed to get a B-. By some miracle.

Thank you, Igor!

"Are you saying," Chris says slowly, annunciating each syllable. And he eyes her as if she's just declared treason against king and country, "that I should watch the movie?" He fakes a loud gasp, clasping his hand to his chest. Isn't that basically literature sacrilege? Isn't that what all English teachers are sworn against?

Ashley scoffs. "No," she rolls her eyes, her lips wide with a laugh. He thought as much. But, despite the harrowing circumstances, he can't help but grin back.

"I mean," she says pointedly, pushing herself up from the desk and striding across the library, knowing exactly where she's going. He watches her curiously. But not curiously enough to stand up. He's still wallowing in his own self-pity.

Reaching up, her hand slides a book from one of the shelves on the other side of the room and she spins around to proudly display it to him. If his eyesight was good enough, he'd probably be able to make out the title. But he can't miss the huge portrait of William Shakespeare slapped on the cover. He groans.

But he can't groan too much when she's looking so perky and bright and proud with the book in her hand.

"Shakespeare never intended his plays to be read," she calls out across the library and the echoing dustiness of her voice just reminds him of how empty the library is. "He intended for them to be performed."

Chris instantly starts shaking his head, curling himself against the back of the chair. Oh no. Oh no, she's not going to suggest-

She grins so widely that he fears her cheeks are going to burst. And her next words are spoken with such gusto, such enthusiasm, that he's fully prepared to run away. To run away, forget his education and really live as a hermit – on instant noodles and netflix. Because he really doesn't want to say no. Not when she looks so hopeful.

Damn it. Thanks, Shakespeare.

"Read the material," she practically dances on her feet, "in a way you're going to enjoy."

"Wasn't I supposed to enjoy this?" Chris huffs uncomfortably, a copy of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream in his hand. The good thing about school libraries, Ashley thinks, is that they usually carry multiple copies of classics. Especially if an English class is going to be teaching on it.

"Shh," Ashley throws the sound into the air amidst giggles. And then she lunges herself onto the nearest table, one hand gripping her own copy of the book, the other swiping an invisible sword through the air. Which is totally not relevant for the scene. But it adds to the imagination, don't you think?

"Belike for want of rain, which I could tell," she proclaims into the stillness of the library, practically seeing dust floating in her breath. She half reads, half remembers her lines.

She had quickly divided up the parts between her and Chris. It had just happened that Lysander had fallen to Chris, and Ashley had taken Hermia. In Ashley's eyes, the story between the two characters was still tragic, despite Shakespeare's intention for the play to be a comedy. A story of two lovers; a girl who desperately loved a man who ultimately fell for another. It was rather appropriate in the situation.

"Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes!" And she immediately flings her sword hand over her eyes – which, if the sword had been real, would have definitely ended in some bloodshed and someone being sent to ER.

For a moment, Chris is silent. And Ashley is completely prepared to give him a swift nudge in the side – or elsewhere – to get him into action, when he stiffly drawls, "Ay me. For aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, blah blah blah, aren't you supposed to be working or something right now?"

Ashley drops her hand and stares blatantly down at him. She's entirely tempted to snap at him, to yap at him for not finishing his line. And then she sees the puppy-dog look of confusion on his face and she can't help but smile. "No," her eyes crinkle at the edges as they glimmer at him. "Despite what you might think, I actually enjoy reading."

"Wait," he scoffs, though Ashley can hear the laughter in his voice. And she's internally glad he's relaxed to her. "You come here for fun, too?" He gawks up at her and she giggles. She's quite proud of being rather tall compared to him now that she's taken the table as her platform. "You, my dear Ashley," he says slowly and complimentary, "are an enigma."

Ashley giggles, flicking the ends of her red hair off her shoulder. "I pride myself on it. Now," she flicks her hand in his general direction. "Finish your line."

A huff escapes his lips, but it is not so edged with reluctance now. And his eyes drop back to the surface of his book. "The course of true love never did run smooth- hey," his eyes spark as he glances up at her. And his face brightens as things begin to shift and move in his head, "that's my line."

She grins, biting her lip proudly, before flicking her hand to encourage him to continue. With a lot more gusto, he returns to the page, "But, either it was different in blood,-"

"O cross!" Ashley exclaims, chiming in to interrupt him. And then, with a spark of imagination, which tended to happen quite often with her, Ashley hollers into the air, "The floor is lava!"

Chris' eyes grow wide in shock and horror right before he swears dramatically. "Crap dammit," he exclaims, before lunging onto the nearest table. But, for a moment, it's not difficult to catch the glimpse of childlike gleam in his eyes.

In a fit of giggles and out of breath laughter, they relay and shout their interchanging lines at each other as they jump from table to table, crossing the length of the library. Almost like a verbal sword fight, lunging at each other with Shakespearean words.

"Keep promise, love," Chris puffs out between his lines, mid grin. And Ashley is pleased that, for a little bit, he's at least enjoying himself. She has almost forgotten about the essay that has led them to this point. "Look!" He points off somewhere in the distance. "Here comes Helena."

And, just then, the library door swings open. Appropriate timing.

"Chris?!" A pretty blonde-headed girl peers into the library, gawking at him.

Ashley's jaw is frozen stiff. Who is this? A sister? A girlfriend? She very much hopes it's not the latter.

Chris topples from his table in a clatter, looking flustered as he tries to straighten himself. And he clutches his book behind his back like it's a loaded weapon. His chest heaves with breaths, his cheeks red from running.

"Hi Sam," he waves stiffly at her as if he's a kid who's just been caught opening the cookie jar.

Behind him, Ashley attempts to silently slip down from her table. But she can't help feeling the flickering eyes of this Sam girl pass over her.

An amused snort escapes the blonde girl's nose, and Ashley catches her raising her eyebrows. Ashley feels her cheeks flair up and she would very much like to hide around about now.

"Sorry," the girl called Sam laughs teasingly and Ashley sees the way Chris' shoulders shift. "I didn't know I was interrupting something."And Ashley is pretty certain she sees the girl wink.

"Ah, no," Chris buts in, reaching out as if to stop this girl's words from reaching them. "We weren't-"

"Josh is looking for you." That's the Sam girl. She says it solemnly this time. And Ashley feels a lurch in her stomach.

Chris shakes his head, confused. And Ashley suddenly feels like she's eavesdropping into a private conversation. "Josh doesn't look for people," Chris says so plainly. Ashley wonders who this Josh is. And how important he is in Chris' life.

Sam sighs and she steps forward. Just enough to be in the room, just enough to keep the door open.

"Fine," she huffs. "I'm looking for you for him."

A look of realisation passes over Chris' face. It's kind of hard to miss.

"I'm coming," he says plainly. Like he completely understands. Ashley catches Sam nodding, before her eyes glance over at Ashley. And she smiles. Ashley doesn't know what else to do but smile back.

Then Chris is turning around and thanking Ashley. And she's nodding. And he's handing her the book and she's insisting that he take it – she'll sort out the loan paperwork. He needs it for his essay.

"See you again?" he asks, as he's stepping backwards towards the door

"Sure," she smiles as she curves herself around a bookshelf. He smiles hopefully, saluting her with his book. And, before she realises it, something has pushed words out of her mouth; "Maybe I could help you out with writing that essay?"

Relief fills her when she sees Chris smile brightly – though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Now that something else has taken it's place.

"It's a date," he says so casually and, despite the fact that he instantly and visibly regrets it, Ashley glows with excitement at the phrasing.

Even as he backs out of the room, barely breaking eye contact. Even as the Sam girl leaves. Even as the door swings closed.

Even as she presses her back against a bookshelf and allows herself to dream.