The library smelled of old paper and polished wood, a quiet refuge from the chaos of the hallways. Sophie arrived first, sliding into a corner table with her sketchbook. She traced the edge of her pencil nervously, wondering if Ethan would show.
A few minutes later, he appeared, guitar case in hand, and nodded at her. "Hey," he said softly, setting the case down beside the table.
"Hi," Sophie replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
They spread out their notes and started working. The project required them to research local history and integrate it into art and music, but the room's silence made conversation inevitable.
"So," Ethan began, "do you always draw everywhere?"
Sophie hesitated. "Pretty much. It's… easier than talking sometimes." She glanced down at her sketchbook, feeling exposed.
He leaned over, curiosity clear in his eyes. "Can I see?"
With a small nod, she flipped the pages. Pencil sketches of the town's library, the river, even the courtyard where students crowded between classes—all captured in delicate, careful lines. When he reached a sketch of yesterday's courtyard scene, Ethan's eyes widened slightly.
"You draw… people too?"
Sophie nodded. "If I notice them."
He leaned back, smiling faintly. "You noticed me."
Her cheeks warmed, and she looked down. "Maybe."
Ethan laughed softly, a sound that seemed to blend with the quiet hum of the library. "I like that. Most people don't notice anything beyond themselves."
For the next hour, they talked while working. Sophie sketched, and Ethan hummed low melodies, testing how lyrics might fit. The project began to feel less like an assignment and more like something alive—something that belonged to both of them.
At one point, Sophie asked, "Why music? Why the guitar?"
He hesitated, glancing at his case. "My dad used to play," he admitted. "He… isn't around much anymore. I guess music is the closest thing I have to him now."
Sophie's heart ached for him. She understood missing someone important—she had lost her older brother two years ago and often buried herself in art to cope. "I get that," she murmured.
Ethan looked at her then, really looked, and for a moment the usual quiet shyness in his eyes softened. "I didn't think anyone would… understand."
"I do," Sophie said simply.
Silence fell between them, but it was comfortable, like a shared secret. Sophie's pencil continued moving across the page, and Ethan's humming became softer, almost like a lullaby.
As the clock ticked closer to the end of lunch, Ethan packed up his things. "Same time tomorrow?" he asked, hope in his voice.
Sophie nodded, smiling despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "Yeah. Same time."
When he left, she traced his profile lightly in her sketchbook, thinking about how easy it felt to be near him. For the first time in a long while, school didn't feel so big and overwhelming. It felt… possible.