#contemporary literature corner

[juan-francisco-palencia]

The same forever.

"Someday, someone will look at you with a light of love in their eyes that you have never found, they will look at you as if you were everything they have been pilgrimaging their whole life. If you get to feel it, it may be the love story in life you've been waiting for."

—  Juan Francisco Palencia.

[juan-francisco-palencia]

Ahava

FIRE IN THE SHADOWS Ahava is a dimension where all dreams are reality, where the incredible is the hardest to believe.

Every seven or three generations a chosen one unconsciously unites four people from the planet Blau or as it was formerly called: Earth, to defend Ahava when it is felt that mundane life is being overwhelmed by something called The Network that subjects it under its invading forces.

In this dimension, people are owners of the phoenix, the legendary creature that is reborn from the ashes, but which they have now acquired and present themselves with the investiture of a dog. The risks of acquiring a brilliant mind is like a confrontation, a struggle of powers that we will possess and that will be irrational here in Blau.

I'm Hanz- "Schriftstellerlehrling."... one of the chosen ones. My daily life is about to change completely, transmitting things and feelings that I would never have imagined in my life and it all started with a dream... When I found a girl whose name was Angela Strauss who identifies with me. She has the fine characteristic features that highlight the beauty of the Tedesca woman and three exceptional boys. (Olaf. Elka. Edna.) who did not believe they existed in reality.

Now that we know each other, I have let you know that it is an adventure to belong to The Dead Poets Society, it is something that unites us and one always finds and there is something more... something more to write about and try to say:

A FIRE IS INSIDE YOU

[literaryvein]

L. V., i found this poem grieving in aisle 3

[whispersofthepurplevalley]

I am nothing extraordinary if you ask me. I am a very ordinary poet. No luxurious words. No set metre. What sets me apart from the entire world is my story. What makes me readable is this urge to peel my skin, rummage every nook of my being and bring out the truths that most of us spend a lifetime concealing.

-Sabina Yesmin

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Spencer Reid

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6339

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: Dr. Spencer Reid is simply adorable. And you actually think he might be perfect. Until, that is, he isn't.

a muted shade of green masterlist // next chapter

His apartment is a muted shade of green and you always wonder why is it that he painted it so dark. The book covered walls never fail to impress you, making you smile into the ether that was this place with its shelves and shelves of worldly stories. His taste, you think, is more towards the classics and refined tales that carry significance and importance in the world of literature. Dostoyevski, Austen, Orwell, Doyle. Though here and there, in some corners of the living room or thrown haphazardly in the kitchen counter, you see peeks of contemporary names, the ones you’re sure you sold him a long, long time ago. Murakami, Zadie Smith, George. 

You met Spencer when you first moved into D.C., about a year or so ago, and sometimes, you really think that it was just yesterday when you first saw him with his purple scarf walking inside your store.

“Excuse me.” 

You have too many books in your arms to even see who is talking to you, but you apologise nonetheless; it’s the least you can do for your first customer. “I’ll be with you in a moment, apologies for the mess, we literally just opened.” In your defence, you had been so busy unpacking all the new orders and organising things into shelves that you absolutely forgot to put the plaque with your opening hours by the door. You can hear his shoes clicking and clacking around the place, and a wave of anxiety washes through you. If he leaves with a book– luckily two– you will have made your first sell and that just might remind you that of the reason why you decided to do this in the first place.

Carefully putting the pile of Maggie Nelson’s on the counter, you finally turn to face him, tired smile from ear to ear when you see him holding two books already. “You found something you like?” You gently ask, voice calm and fingers fidgeting while you wait for an answer. “Many things, actually. I’m quite glad to see a wide variety of books here, it’s been hard finding something new to read lately.” 

His voice is pointed and it echoes in the empty store. The clock on the walls says it’s 7:58AM and you suck in a breath; it’s definitely too early for someone to be looking for books, but maybe he wants entertainment for his commute, maybe he needs a distraction for the way, or maybe he is odd like that. 

It must be cold outside. The man is wearing a purple scarf  inside what looks like a wool coat, and somehow, he fits in there, in your store. He looks like the kind of person who would be buying books as early as 8 in the morning and you’re not sure if that is adorable or unhinged. 

“Just these, thank you,” The loud thump of the pile of books he deposits by the cashier makes you gasp. “You have a great selection here, I was lucky you open early!” The twinkle in his eyes is what keeps you from telling him that that, in fact, was a big mistake. In the middle of rushing to get the keys from the landlord in time, get the deliveries, get everything sorted and organised, you had completely forgotten to put out the hours for the shop. 

“I am glad you found us here! Do you live nearby?” At this point, you’re just trying to make conversation as you bagged his items, smiling at the titles and happy to see your favourite book in the midst. “I live just across the street, actually,” He said, giving you his card. “You’ll see me a lot, I’m afraid.”

“And what should I call my most loyal customer, then?” One look down at his card and you would know, but you wanted him to tell you himself. 

“Spencer Reid.”

There is not really a sound reason as to why you walk so freely into his apartment. The first time he asked you to do this, he was going on a case and needed someone to water his plants. As it turn out, your store is quite literally across the street from his building and you don’t really mind the mindless task, so you tell him to not worry, you’ll take care of it. It had been a few months since you two met, five or so, and despite taking you some time to truly understand, you got used to the fact that Spencer created a routine for both of you, knocking on your shop’s door every Monday at precisely 8 in the morning. With time, you stopped questioning him even when you had many, many questions– was he even reading all these books? If yes, how?! Every visit, he left with three books or more, and unless he pulled all nighters every night, those were simply sitting on his desk. 

Instead, you start putting a few titles aside whenever you spot them. You start it with ‘A Gentleman From Peru’ by André Aciman, short and sweet. Next week it was ‘A Little Paris Bookshop’ by Nina George. Then ‘Cultish’ by Amanda Montell. And just like this, you two form your own little book club, his visits extending beyond their usual thirty minutes into the better part of the hour to talk about the plot, the characters, the arcs. You know there is quite a lot you don’t know about Spencer, of course there is, but you learn more and more with every little debate you two have. You learn about his morals through the character he likes, and his dreams through the plots he enjoy. You learn about his photographic memory that allows him to quote his favourite sections to you, and you learn that he is a very logical man through his hatred for the inaccuracy of investigative books. You learn and you learn and you learn and you find out that you like learning about Spencer. More than you like learning about anyone else, that is, and now, every time he walks in, you can’t help but get excited, smiling as you only imagine what you would learn that day. 

Sometimes, you did notice the absence of your favourite customer. He would disappear for weeks on end and then act like nothing happened, and you get it; he doesn’t owe you anything, you’re just the lady that sells him books, but you feel like there is something that is starting to bloom when, every time he comes back, he brings you a book. “I thought you’d like it,” Is all he says before leaving with his bag of new reads. For a moment, it’s like an exchange, but Spencer never demands anything of you; never asks for anything more than new books and recommendations. 

It’s quite rewarding finding the books you sold him scattered through the apartment. There are a couple in the kitchen, open split on the counter and you smile fondly at the clumsy way he marks his books. There is no folded page, no book marker, no random picture; just his book, cover facing up, open and splitting the spine in half enough to crease. You shake your head, smiling like he’s done this just to rile you up.

“Oh my god, don’t!”

You don’t mean to shout but it’s too late. His eyes widen in shock and he immediately freezes, mouth stuck in a little ‘o’ shape that makes you blush. “What did I do?” 

The wince in your expression is as visible as the light of day when you speak. Your hands hover in the air, unsure of what to do now, but still trying to do something. “The book, Spencer,” The words come out like a whine, and if you start stomping your feet you might as well look like a child. “The spine. The book. The– oh my god, the noise!”

The way he laughs at you is contagious, and you start laughing with him, face hidden behind your hands in embarrassment. Owning a bookshop doesn’t come for free. Your particularities when it comes to your literary treasures are enough to scare any sane person away. “You know, there are worse sounds than a book’s spine breaking,” He mused, closing the book before walking to your counter. His nimble fingers drum a soft rhythm as he waits for you to go around and charge him for the book. It’s a symphony, almost; so loud in your quiet store that, for a second, your heart is tuning in, thumping as his fingers do, beating to the song he creates. 

“You don’t have to buy it,” It’s a little ridiculous how airy your voice sounds then. Aren’t you a little too old to have a crush? “It’s okay if–“ But he doesn’t even let you finish, rattling off some facts about the writer. Most of the time, actually, he is rattling off some fact about something, and some you know, some you don’t, but you never interrupt him. You like hearing him talk. 

You miss hearing him talk. Whenever Spencer leaves, you miss him. You miss the knock on your shop’s door at 8AM. You miss the shy little chuckles. You miss the purple– the constant, always there purple. A wave of sadness hits you then, looking around the apartment with a longing expression. 

The first time he calls you over, it’s not really an invitation. A week before it happens, he doesn’t show up for your Tuesday unboxing and you have to carry all the new orders inside by yourself. It takes double the time and despite the effort it takes you, it’s the absence of his coy chuckles and snarky commentary that leaves you breathless. When you open the boxes, checking inventory to make sure there had been no issues with your order, you find the book Spencer asked you to get him. It’s one of those special books, so old and unique that you could only get your hands on it because you had contacts in the space. “Huh,” You frown at that– it isn’t like Spencer to forget something. Hell, it isn’t like Spencer to forget anything. Before you can cower away from doing it, you send him a text. You have his number saved in the system, and this feels wrong, it really does. Using his personal information that he gave to you as a client felt wrong. But for a second, it makes you stop biting your nails in anxiety. 

Your book is here. 

It’s Y/N, by the way. 

He doesn’t answer right away and you wallow in your regret for as long as you can. Your shoulders hunch forward as you line up the new arrivals in the shelves. Your frown sits on your forehead all day while you help other passing customers. Your hands brush against the book, all ready and wrapped up and sitting on top of the counter. You hate waiting; you hate waiting for someone or for something to happen as if you’re praying for a miracle. Literature has taught you many lessons in life. It has shown you countless of love stories that could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation. It has told you about people that waited and waited and waited until time passed them away. It has taught you that waiting is simply delaying the inevitable. 

But what literature has not taught you is that, sometimes, waiting truly is all you can do. 

That day, you don’t get a message back. 

You get a call instead. 

“Y/N?” The familiar voice on the other side speaks before you can and your shoulders tense up. Something is wrong. He sounds hoarser than usual, airier, too. 

“Spencer,” You say back, clearing your throat of any remnants or indicators of how nervous you are. “Spencer, are you okay? You sound rough.”

Even his laugh sounds weak and a zap of worry rushes through you. “I’m fine,” He mumbles, and you know he’s saying it out of politeness. “I just got sick. I think I have a cold, it’s nothing much, really.”

The relief that washed over you in crashing waves is almost embarrassing. Even though he is not there to witness it, your face still flushes in a dramatic red. “Oh. I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you–“

“It’s not a bother,” The way his voice interrupts you, so strong and concise, makes you chuckle. “You’re not a bother. I uh, I’m glad to hear my book arrived.”

For a moment, you both stay quiet. You, on your end of the line, are nodding like he can see you. Except he can’t. Except he is waiting, probably, for you to say something. Do something. “I can bring it to you. If you want.”

This time, there is no pause. “Yes. I mean, yes, please. I– I don’t have anything new to read and–” Spencer pauses to cough and you start moving immediately. There is no one in the store and you quickly change the sign to ‘closed’, grabbing his book and your bag before locking the door behind you. There is a pharmacy at the end of the block and you keep your cellphone balanced between your shoulder and ear while your hands make sure you have your wallet with you. “Sorry.”

“No problem at all,” You cross the street in such a hurry that you don’t notice the traffic, getting a symphony of horns calling you out as you run to the other side of the street. “Shit…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You tease, laughing a little and entering the pharmacy with purpose. “So just a cold, right?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“Out,” There is no need to be vague, but you don’t want to give him a chance to protest. “I should be at yours in fifteen minutes with the book.”

“Just the book?” He asks in such a suspicious tone that you can’t hold back a laugher. 

“What else?” Thank god for automatic cashiers speeding up this entire process. You are in an out in less than five minutes and before he can even answer, you are almost at his door. Admittedly, you are speed walking, almost running, in a futile attempt to get there sooner. “Which apartment do I buzz?”

“Apartment 23.” And that is the end of the call. 

By the time you make it to his floor, panting just as you hike the last step upwards, he is already waiting for you, and you can’t say you’re terribly bothered to have a man like Spencer Reid waiting for you by the door. “Spencer,” You still admonish, a small smile playing on your lips. “You shouldn’t be out and about like this.” 

“Then who would let you in?” The mischief in his expression, much like that of a child making an innocent joke, makes you giggle, nodding in agreement. “Do you want to come inside? I promise everything is clean, I’m not a slob or anything.”

“Yeah, let me come in so I can give you your stuff.” 

“I knew it wasn’t just the book,” The coughing fit that followed has you rushing your hands, pulling things out of your bag in a desperate attempt to get him the medicine you bought. This had always been your curse, the flustering anxiety of wanting to help but being unable to take your time. Shaky hands push the book towards him, with the medication and some old receipts stuck to it. 

“Oh shit, sorry!” You squeak, grabbing the receipts and shoving it back in your bag. One of these days, you’d have to close the store early to clean this thing. “But uh, yeah, I got you some cold medicine and your book. I’m sure you know this with your big brain and all, but you need to take this before bed, cause it makes you drowsy, and this other one in the morning since it has caffeine! And you should be good in no time… hopefully!”

In life, a pause is not always a bad thing. It’s a time to think. A time to appreciate, to enjoy. It’s a time to be. A pause, however, from the man whose brain worked a thousand miles an hour, doesn’t feel like something to be thankful for. “Is… Do you not like that brand? I didn’t want to get the generic thing, I don’t know why, I–“

“Thank you.”

At first, you barely hear it. For someone whose voice is so rough and hoarse, you’re surprised he can still sound so smooth and airy. Your reaction is obvious; he can see the blush in your cheeks and the way you bite back a smile. “Y/N, thank you, I really appreciate it,” He says it again and now you think he just wants to get a rise of you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You shrug, faking humbleness while you keen at his praise. “I wanted to.”

“I know.” 

There is a dance that happens after that, one that you find yourself enjoying quite a bit. Spencer is more present than ever, and you’re getting used to having him around. It’s like you two broke the glass wall the kept you at a safe distance, and now is when you two discover each other a bit better. Like how you find out that, when Spencer’s hand lays on the cashier counter, just an inch or less away from yours, you feel the heath that it emanates. Like how your fingers curl and your palms itch at the sight of his shaggy curls falling on top of his beautiful eyes. Like how his laughter is deep when it’s true and dry when it’s forced. Like how he can read 20,000 words per minute, but he chooses to read 183 instead just so he can read you passages out loud.

You are not sure what he has learned about you, or if he even cares to learn something about you, but the thought still makes you smile. “What’s gotten you so smiley so early in the morning?” 

Ah, yes; another thing you’ve learned about Spencer Reid– he is as quiet as mouse when he wants, and as loud as an elephant when he doesn’t. “My god!” You jump, hand immediately going to your heart to try and keep it from beating our of your chest from the shock. “Spence! You scared me!”

“I’m so sorry,” He laughs, raising his hands in the air, shaking the two cups of coffee he is holding. “I come in peace.”

“And with bribery, I like your style.” 

His style doesn’t change, still haven’t. For ages, you think he buys you coffee at the nearby cafe. You don’t really know the name of the place, some cliche Cafe something something, but the one time you’ve been in there the coffee was terrible and the music too loud. It’s hard picturing your shy, smiley book-lover in there, trying to order something without raising his voice. It’s only when you see the go-to paper cups on his counter, on the fourth or fifth time you come around, that you realise Spencer has never gone to that cafe to begin with. 

The cups are still there. You make a point in spotting them every time you come over– next to the microwave, close to the paper towels. The reminder that this man has, in fact, been making you coffee most mornings validates the fluttery feeling you have whenever you think of it. It makes it somewhat logical. “I must be spending too much time with him,” You mumble to yourself, pushing your sleeves up and getting to work. You are there for a reason, and if those wilting plants die on you, you fear that you might just never be invited back. “Why does he even have plants?” 

You don’t know much about Spencer’s job. He hasn’t told you anything about it except that he travels a lot for it, but you can imagine it is something of importance– a man like Spencer was someone of importance, after all. In your mind, you can imagine him walking into an office down by the Financial District, working with big corporations as an advisor. Yes, you can absolutely see him as some sort of advisor or consultant, but something about him working in finances doesn’t sit right with you– he is yet to talk to you about crypto investments and how to better implement a payment system into the store. Shaking your head, you switch it up. Financial services, aren’t quite right, but maybe an editor, working in a publishing house. With the way he devours books and how well-rounded his personal library was, you could see him as a Publishing Director instead, reading manuscript after manuscript. 

The thought of him reading brings a smile to your face. In his living room, there is an armchair that sits next to the large window on the west wall of his apartment– he says he likes how the sunset hits and makes the pages look warm and golden, turning words into a burning fire of knowledge– and you can practically see him there, blanket over his legs, books and books pilled next to it. It’s your own little secret, how every time you come over, you grab a book, any book, and you sit there for thirty minutes, forty, fifty, an hour; until the sun has completely set and you have to get up to turn the lights on. 

Today, when you sit down, when you bring your knees up, when you drape the blanket over you, something feels incredibly right and incredibly wrong. On the pile of books next to you, right at the top, lays a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. If you remember correctly, which you usually do, last time you sat down at that spot you managed to read up to chapter five before the sun was gone. When you grab the book and you see the bookmark you gave Spencer the second time he visited the store, and you frown– usually, he’d pick up from where you left off. “How long has it been since you last came home, Spencer?” You muttered out loud, grabbing the book regardless. Because even when it breaks your heart to know something has been keeping him away from his precious nook, it fuels your heart to know he leaves your book where you can easily pick it up. To know he doesn’t mind you sitting on his armchair, to know he doesn’t mind you reading his books, to know he doesn’t mind you settling, somehow, in his house. 

A knock on his door, however, breaks you away from your precious moment of rest and relaxation. For a moment, you can’t move, frozen in place light a kid that has been caught doing something wrong. It’s only when they knock again that you move, shuffling to the door to look through the peephole. “Who is it?” You ask, voice weak and shaky. 

“I have a delivery for Spencer Reid.”

How silly you feel in that moment, hand over your heart as you take a deep breath in relief. Unlocking the door, you smile to the USPS guy. “Sorry, he isn’t home right now. I can take it for him.” All you have to do is sign it and close the door, but once you put the package on the counter and your eyes catch sight of a note scribbled on top of the box, all those butterflies inside of you slow down. And find perch. And for a second, make you miss them just like you miss him. 

The first time you think Spencer might have a girlfriend is when he comes into the store with a certain look in his face. He is practically glowing and his eyes don’t leave his phone for a second. “What has you smiling like that?” You two are close enough to ask these kind of things now, making jokes about each other as if you have been friends for ages. “Or uh, who?” Even though you started the conversation, you want to end it now. There is a sour aftertaste in your mouth when you suggest another person to be cause of his happiness, and you know, right there and then, that that is just your jealousy speaking. At this point, you’ve been harbouring a crush on Spencer for the almost two months and there’s only so much a girl can take before exploding. 

“Oh, it’s just a friend.” Somehow, this answer doesn’t settle you as much as you hoped it would. 

The second time is when he brings a woman around. She is blonde, and loud, and colourful, and you eye her carefully. They are matching costumes, and for a second, without even saying, you already feel left out. It’s stupid, being this green over someone so pink. If Spencer was purple, and if you are green, than that woman was pink– she is happy and light and exciting. Next to her, you… well, you are as muted as his green walls. “Y/N!” He calls for you with such a big smile and you just don’t have it in you to pretend to be busy anymore. 

“Hey Spencer,” It comes out quiet and a bit distant, but he doesn’t seem to notice, not with the way he is going back and forth on the ball of his heels. “And hello, ma’am. Welcome, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the owner. Please let me know if you need any help.”

That day, you two barely talk, but that’s okay, because Penelope, as she introduced herself to you after you help her find a specific book on coding, speaks for both of you. She says that it’s lovely to finally meet you, and mentions how much she has heard about you, and you think this is a very cruel thing to do to your poor, squeezing heart. But you push through. You pretend you’re tired, you apologise for the distance, and you lie about a cough. It’s better if they stay away, you say, but Spencer doesn’t buy it. Instead, he buys Penelope her book and leaves with promises of coming back the next day with your usual coffee. 

After that, you don’t see Spencer for two weeks.

It’s a bittersweet feeling when you get the text that he is back. After almost a week and a half without seeing him, you miss Spencer. He created a space for himself in your life and in your store, and when he is gone, it’s just not the same. But just like how he did, you created a space for yourself in his apartment. Suddenly, the muted green walls aren’t claustrophobic or smothering, but comforting. They are safe. Familiar. They are Spencer. And just like you said, you miss Spencer.

“Y/N!” 

You should be happier to hear his voice, but it’s not the same. The fluttering in your stomach is still there, like a slow buzz trying to come alive, but it’s not the same. Not when the note on the box, flashing like neon signs behind your close lids, has been tormenting you and your poor heart ever since you made the mistake of opening the door. “Y/N? Are you here? The door says open…” At one point or another, you have to come out of hiding and face him. Delaying the moment, though, is the best defence plan you’re able to come up with– if you look into Spencer’s eyes, if you see that pretty smile he has every time he comes back from a work trip… you’re fucked. 

“Y/N, I need you to tell me if you’re here!” It’s not the same. 

His voice. It’s not the same.

Usually mellow and undulating, Spencer sounds stiff, like he’s holding something back. Something new. Something… heavy. There is an edge to him right now, so sharp and cutting that it has you stepping out from behind the Science shelf in pure curiosity. And just like people say, curiosity killed the cat. In this case, however, it almost kills you. 

When you turn the corner to find him by the door, the first thing you see is a man. He is tall and handsome and oddly serious. The way his brows are pulled together make you falter, steps slowing down and mouth opening to ask if he needs help.

That’s when you see it. 

More like you catch a quick glimpse of it, the shinning spark of metal to your side, and you do a double take. You have to do a double take. It’s like your brain doesn’t believe what you’re seeing, and you move your head so fast you feel your neck tensing up in that way that makes your eyes water. “WHAT THE FU– OH MY GOD!” There is no way to throw yourself against a wall graciously, arms over your head and fear written all over face. You land in an awkward angle and your shoulder takes the brunt of the shock, making you gasp in pain while your legs give our under you. 

Of all the ways you’ve imagined Spencer, him holding a gun up to your head was never one of them. “Y/N!”

“Oh my god!” You think you might pass out– you’re breathing too fast and your chest is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing to the point of physical pain. There is a ringing in your ears, muffling the entire conversation between Spencer and the other man and even though you try, you can’t look up; you’re frozen in a state of distress. For the first time since you met him, you’re scared of Spencer Reid. “I– I– Oh my god, I c-can’t– I can’t b-breathe, I can’t–“

“Y/N, look at me! Look at me, you’re okay, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” The moment his hand touches your shoulder, you’re shrinking away. 

“Who are you?!” You manage to gasp enough air into your lungs to scream at him. One shake hand moves to the back of your neck, pressing down on the sore nape as you finally move to look at him, crying and all. “Spencer, who are you? Who is he? What is happening? Why do you have a gun in my bookshop, why–“

“Ma’am, I need you to take deep breaths,” The other man quickly holsters his gun and you actually think you might be going insane when flashes you a badge. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer. We are with the FBI.”

Federal Bureau of Investigation. Spencer is a fed. And he never told you. 

“The FBI…?” You whisper, eyes going wide and breath hiccuped in your throat. “S-Spencer, you work for the FBI?” Nothing about this makes sense to you. The gun, forgotten in his left hand and now pointing down and away from you, is all you can look at. The gun that looked heavy and cold. The gun that those hands hold– the same hands you’ve wished and, admittedly, dreamed of holding yours instead. The gun, the gun, the gun.

The gun. You’ve never seen a gun before, not this close. In museums, of course, and in movies and shows, but never in real life. You don’t have interest in it either, having voted, without fail, for anti-gun laws and representatives. Anything and everything about this, about seeing him with that deadly weapon, feels wrong, and you really think you might be sick soon.

“Kid, put it away, you’re freaking her out.” 

Then is when you catch sight of the Spencer you know. It’s the clumsy actions, looking almost freaked out himself– his hands fumble with the holster and it takes him a couple of tries to fit the gun properly. That’s when you know for sure– you are going to be sick. “Trash,” You mumble, trying to get up but falling again and again. “Trash, pass me the–“ But there is no time and you throw up right there and then, between the cashier and the nonfiction section. 

“What just happened?” 

“Morgan, get her some water– there, over the counter,” The rapid successions of words make you feel a bit better, a cadence of tone and rhythm that has your hands finally stabilising. “Y/N, you’re in shock. Adrenaline kicked in and left, and you pressured crashed, which is what made you nauseous. You need water, and to come sit by the counter.”

It’s funny, how in any other circumstance, you’d be ashamed and embarrassed to have gotten ill in front of him. As far as you know, Spencer is a germaphobe and this surely counts as germs. But as he grabs your hands, gentler than you’ve ever seen him grab any book in your store, and brings you to your chair behind the counter, you wonder if he forgot or simply doesn’t care. Both options don’t make sense. “Spence, what is going on?” Your voice comes out winey and rough, and there is no way to hold back the pained wince when you feel the sting spreading through your throat. Sip by sip, you try your best to drink the water and soothe yourself, but nothing seems to help. 

Nothing until you hear him next to you, small and quiet and, dare you say, meek. “I’m sorry.”

As much as you’d like to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, he does. “I see…”

“It was just… it was new, having someone not know I’m FBI,” His thumbs play with each other and you’ve known him long enough to recognise that Spencer is nervous. “And we started getting closer and I just didn’t find an opportunity to tell you.”

“There were plenty,” You clarify, feeling a bit of a bitch for the bite in your voice making him gulp. “But it’s okay. I’m not… I’m not anything of yours, I guess, so it’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t say that. You’re my friend.” That hurt.

“Do you point a gun at all your friends or am I just special, Spence?” It is supposed to be a joke, but the memory makes your bottom lip start wobbling again and you feel stupid. You feel so, so incredibly stupid right now that you can’t even begin to explain why. “Sorry, I’m just– I’m not okay.”

“I know, and we’re sorry,” There is such raw honesty in his words and he manages to make you smile a little. Your hand is still shaking, but you stretch it out towards him regardless. It’s a conscious decision to hold onto his wrist, covered by his jacket, than to reach out for his palm, and from the way he looks at you, you know he recognises the effort. “But you need to come with us.”

“Why?” You cry out, a single tear coming out of the corner of your eye. At this point, the shock is going away and you’re more overwhelmed than anything else. You’re scared and confused and overwhelmed and it’s his pulse, beating again and again, that brings you back to Earth. “Why do I need to go with you? What is going on?”

“Y/N, when you were housesitting for me, you received a package, right?”

In the midst of everything, the memory of that day, that box, that note, all fade. Frowning, you shrugged. “The delivery man knocked and said he had a package for you… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I–“

“No, no, no, you didn’t, you didn’t. Please.”

“Ma’am, when you signed for the package, did you use your name?” The man, Morgan, ask, and all you do is nod. Of course you signed with your name. “Kid, we need to take her to the office now.”

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on!”

Finally, some energy in you. Some strength. Your voice echoes in the empty shop, and the chair tips back when you stand up on stiff legs. Looking at Spencer is hard, when you feel the burning of your rage inside, but you still do; you still meet those pretty brown eyes, you still stare him down until you practically force the answers off of him. “The package… did you see who it was from?” 

“Spencer, are you insinuating you’ve pointed a gun at me because I read a message your girlfriend wrote on the package she sent you?! Because I didn’t mean to– I didn’t! It just… It was there, right at the top and I–“

“She is not my girlfriend,” He immediately cut you off, hands waving in front of him in a visual demonstration of desperate denial. “Not at all! I don’t have a girlfriend! I was–“

“We can deal with this later,” Morgan is quick to interrupt, sighing as he looked at you. “Y/N, we re really sorry to disrupt you like this, but this is for your own protection. Please lock the store and let’s go.”

It takes time for you to gather everything you need. You are not a disorganised person by any means, but suddenly, you can’t remember where you put what. Your bag is thrown under the cashier, and your keys are, for some reason, in the Fiction shelf. Your glasses are in your head the entire time, and Morgan has to point that out to you. The more you look, the more flustered you get, yet somehow, you make it to the car. Morgan is driving and Spencer is on the passenger seat, and the way they keep talking to each other using words that make no sense to you make you want to scream. “Spencer.”

The heaviness of his name, said with such emotion,, lingered in the air. His eyes meet yours through the rearview mirror, and he nods. “Yeah?"

“Spencer,” You whisper again, eyes wide in shock as reality starts to dawn. “Spencer, if she’s not your girlfriend, then who the fuck is Cat Adams?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AAAAAhhhhh I'm trying something new >.< I've been a massive criminal minds fan for a long, long time and Dr. Spencer Reid has my heart <3

Please let me know what you think, this is my first Spencer fic and I'd love if it got to turn into a series!

[iamktb206]

When People Say “We Have Made It Through Worse Before”

by Clint Smith, from Above Ground

all I hear is the wind slapping against the gravestones

of those who did not make it, those who did not

survive to see the confetti fall from the sky, those who

did not live to watch the parade roll down the street.

I have grown accustomed to a lifetime of aphorisms

meant to assuage my fears, pithy sayings meant

to convey that all ends up fine in the end. But there is

no solace in rearranging language to make a different word

to tell the same lie. Sometimes the moral arc of the universe

does not bend in a direction that comforts us.

Sometimes it bends in ways we don’t expect and there are

people who fall off in the process. Please, dear reader,

do not say I am hopeless. I believe there is a better future

to fight for, I simply accept the possibly that I may not

love to see it. I have grown weary of telling myself lies

that I may one day begin to believe. We are not all left

standing after the war has ended. Some of us have

become ghosts by the time the dust has settled.

[mimi-cee-genshin]

Old words unspoken ‘til now: Neuvillette; heartwarming, spoilers from his story quest, 0.7k

Imagine you were a history and literature enthusiast in the world of Teyvat. You collected books -old books- and you tremendously enjoyed the archaic language written between the dusty covers. The terms used, the odd sentence structure as well as the punctuation were all hindrances to the common person. With phrases slightly off-putting to the contemporary palate, one could hardly persevere through a single page.

Yet you, on the other hand, would read these books aloud with flair and drama, causing strangers to raise a brow and your closest friends to share a knowing smirk. As you walked along by Palais Mermonia, quick on your feet to run a commission, you heard a word you'd only read in the book located on the third shelf away from your fireplace.

The word? An insult. The equivalent of calling a person a buffoon.

Of course the one receiving the insult was oblivious to the fact that he was indeed insulted, as if it never occurred to him that it could be anything but a compliment. But as you listened to him wail and complain about how a certain Melusine failed to meet his petty expectations, you understood the drama that had reached your attentive ears.

The great Monsieur Neuvillette was understandably upset.

You had never forgotten the spectacle. You tucked it into a corner of your memory, next to the lines of an obscure but cherished theatre script written centuries ago. The single word brought you back to a different world that separated you not by space but by time. Old Fontaine, with all its flaws, also contained stories of bravery and love in its pages.

Then when you happened on a rare chance to greet Monsieur Neuvillette himself in person, you seized the opportunity for an experiment. A harmless one of course.

You quoted a line from your favorite play.

It was a typical form of greeting when directed to a respectful gentleman such as him. But the archaic saying revealed a brief shock in Neuvillette's eyes, just as he received the completed commission from you. He continued on with business as usual, not thinking much of your words. Yet when another sentence flowed out of your mouth, he could no longer ignore his heart. His smile could hardly be contained at hearing the equivalent of his mother tongue, the mode of words when he first lived among humans. Your intonations brought him back to his early days with Vautrin and Carole, of small gatherings and outings with those he cherished. A warm soupy aroma had wafted from the kitchen of Vautrin's mother and young children had giggled with the handful of Melusines he first brought over.

And without knowing, Neuvillette replied you. He replied in that old Teyvat language, with idioms and speech patterns he scarcely spoke ‘til now.

Your eyes grew wide, and then were replaced by an even wider grin. With glee, you spoke to him the language you only read from books, almost a little bashful from the excitement in your own voice.

He asked where you learned to speak that way and you spilled out your vast knowledge of centuries old literature, those cherished tales of characters you loved. In turn, he gave you insights into the settings and culture at the time for each of the stories you shared. And mid conversation, you couldn't help but feel the urge to write them all down.

As the people walked by you outside the Palais Mermonia, you continued to speak in a way that was unknown to the expanse of the current human world. It was awkward at first for Neuvillette, not having conversed this way in so long. But the more he spoke, the more natural it felt, and the words and phrases on his tongue made themselves home in him once again. The place in his heart that was long forgotten was brought to the surface for him to enjoy once again. It was a marvel to behold how a mere few phrases had uncovered this abandoned treasure.

So when the day was done, and the hours had passed from the moment you'd shared your good-byes, Neuvillette once again reflected on his former years. They were painful memories, but there was great joy in them as well. And you had just gifted him with a warm experience he couldn't have foreseen. An encounter that led out a forgotten part of his being.

A place he called home.

Thanks for reading! This was pretty different from my usual writing style and format, but I hope you enjoyed it.

[star-wars-writing]

A/N Just posted my latest story "A Bookstore Romance" on AO3! It's a tale of love, misunderstanding, and the beautiful journey of a relationship that starts and blossoms in a bookstore. it was written for the codywanbingo by @codywanbingo

@swfandomevents

The bell over the door chimed, marking the departure of the last customer of the morning, and Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself alone amidst the tranquil haven of his bookstore. He stood behind the counter, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the cover of a hidden gem among romance novels, a genre he secretly adored yet never openly acknowledged. The warm, filtered sunlight streaming through the windows bathed the room in a cozy glow, highlighting the eclectic array of books that ranged from timeless classics to contemporary bestsellers.

Obi-Wan’s gaze, deep and thoughtful, swept across the store. Each shelf, each book, was a familiar friend, carefully curated and lovingly displayed in this quaint corner of the city that he had made his own. His passion for literature was evident in every carefully arranged display, every thoughtful recommendation he offered to his patrons.

At 30, Obi-Wan carried an air of youthful enthusiasm tempered with the poise of experience. His hair, a rich auburn, was often slightly tousled, as if he’d just run his hands through it while lost in thought. There was an ease about him, a quiet confidence that drew people in, encouraging them to linger in the aisles and lose themselves in the worlds contained within the pages.

As he turned the page of his book, a soft reflection in the glass caught his eye. He observed himself for a moment – not just the owner of a beloved bookstore but a man who still harbored dreams and desires, much like the characters in the stories he cherished.

The door opened, disrupting his solitude. A young couple stepped inside, their laughter echoing softly in the hushed atmosphere. They gravitated towards the travel books, their conversation a murmur of shared excitement and plans. Watching them, Obi-Wan felt a gentle tug in his chest, a reminder of the poignant and powerful tales of love that resonated with him most.

He smiled softly to himself and leaned back against the counter, his eyes drifting back to the novel in his hands. Here, in this little world of his creation, surrounded by tales of adventure, mystery, and love, he found a deep sense of contentment. Yet, in the quiet corners of his heart, the romantic stories whispered to him, kindling a hope that perhaps his own life might yet hold a chapter as yet unwritten.

Outside, the city moved at its relentless pace, but within the walls of the bookstore, time seemed to slow, each moment a page waiting to be turned.

The evening light filtered softly through the windows of the bookstore, casting a serene glow over the quiet interior. In a cozy corner, reserved for study and contemplation, Cody, the eldest of eight brothers, was engrossed in his architectural designs. His younger brother, Rex, sat opposite him, delving into the complexities of political science. This tranquil nook in Obi-Wan’s bookstore had become their refuge, a place away from the lively chaos of a household bustling with six younger siblings.

Cody, with a natural inclination towards leadership and responsibility, exuded a quiet strength that seemed to anchor those around him. His architectural drawings sprawled across the table, a testament to his talent and dedication. Rex, looking up to his elder brother, found in him both inspiration and guidance.

From his position behind the counter, Obi-Wan observed the brothers with a sense of admiration. The golden hue of the setting sun bathed the room, accentuating the rows of books that surrounded the brothers. Obi-Wan was particularly drawn to Cody, not just because of his academic focus, but also due to an unspoken connection he felt whenever their eyes met.

As the last customer departed, Obi-Wan approached the brothers, bearing a tray with three cups of tea, a gesture that had become a familiar ritual. "I thought a little tea might help with the studies," he said, his voice gentle, yet resonating with an underlying warmth.

Cody looked up, his eyes meeting Obi-Wan's. "That's very kind of you, Obi-Wan," he replied, his voice carrying a note of deep appreciation that resonated within Obi-Wan. There was an unspoken understanding in that brief exchange, a connection that lingered in the air.

Rex gratefully accepted the tea, his admiration for Obi-Wan evident. "You know, Obi-Wan, you're like the guardian angel of our study sessions," he joked lightly, eliciting a chuckle from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan smiled, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Well, I can't have my favorite architects and political analysts running on empty, can I?" he replied, playfully.

As the evening progressed and the time for closing drew near, Cody and Rex began to pack up their things. "We'll be back tomorrow, Obi-Wan," Cody called out, his voice echoing softly in the now-quiet bookstore.

"I'll be here," Obi-Wan replied, feeling a subtle pang of longing as he watched them leave. The door closed behind them, leaving a silence that felt more profound than before.

In the solitude of his bookstore, Obi-Wan's thoughts lingered on Cody. There was an undeniable pull between them, a burgeoning bond that extended beyond the usual rapport he had with his patrons. He found himself captivated by Cody’s passion for architecture, his dedication to his studies, and the way his presence seemed to fill the room.

Locking the door and dimming the lights, Obi-Wan reflected on the subtle yet significant moments they had shared. He knew such feelings were fraught with complexity, especially given his role as the owner of the bookstore. Yet, as he made his way home, he couldn't help but wonder about the uncharted territory of their growing connection, a story that was yet to unfold.

The next morning arrived with the gentle hum of the city awakening. Obi-Wan, behind the counter of his bookstore, was arranging a new display of classic novels when the familiar chime of the door announced the arrival of his first visitors. He looked up, a smile instinctively forming as he recognized Cody and Rex stepping into the warm, book-filled haven.

Cody's gaze met Obi-Wan's, a flash of unspoken acknowledgment passing between them. There was an ease about Cody, a confidence in his stride that belied his youth. His eyes, bright and attentive, often wandered around the bookstore with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. Today, however, there was a hint of determination in his demeanor, a purpose that seemed to extend beyond his usual academic focus.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan," Cody greeted, his voice carrying a clear note of respect.

"Morning, Cody, Rex," Obi-Wan replied, his attention briefly shifting to Rex before returning to Cody. "What brings you in so early today?"

Cody took a deep breath, his fingers absently tracing the spine of a book on the nearest shelf. "Actually, I was wondering if... if you might need some help around the store. I'm looking for a job, and I can't think of a better place than here."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose slightly, a mixture of surprise and something akin to pleasure flickering in his eyes. "Help in the bookstore?" he echoed, considering the proposal. The idea of having Cody around more often was unexpectedly appealing, yet he hesitated, aware of the delicate balance that existed between them.

"Yes," Cody continued, a hint of eagerness creeping into his voice. "I know my way around the store pretty well by now, and I'd really like to start saving up for the future."

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on Cody, taking in the earnestness in his expression. There was a sincerity in Cody's request that touched him, and he found himself wanting to say yes, to have Cody's presence become a more permanent fixture in the bookstore.

"Well, I could certainly use the extra hands," Obi-Wan admitted, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle smile. "Consider yourself part of the team, Cody."

The relief and joy that lit up Cody's face were unmistakable. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. You won't regret this," he said, his voice tinged with gratitude and excitement.

Rex, who had been quietly observing the exchange, chimed in, "Guess this means I'll be seeing even more of this place, huh?"

Obi-Wan chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm afraid so, Rex. But I promise to keep the coffee coming."

As Cody and Rex settled into their usual study corner, Obi-Wan found his thoughts lingering on the new arrangement. Having Cody as an employee would undoubtedly change the dynamics of their relationship. He felt a twinge of anticipation at the prospect of working alongside Cody, of seeing him every day in a context that went beyond their casual interactions.

Throughout the day, as he attended to customers and went about his tasks, Obi-Wan's mind often drifted to Cody. He watched him from afar, noting the way Cody interacted with the books, the gentle care he showed each volume he touched. There was a grace about him, a quiet strength that Obi-Wan found increasingly compelling.

As the bookstore closed for the day, Obi-Wan found himself looking forward to the following morning, to the new chapter that was about to begin in the story of his bookstore, a chapter that now included Cody not just as a patron, but as a part of its very essence. The prospect filled him with a sense of expectancy, a feeling that something significant was on the horizon.

A month had woven its way through the calendar since Cody began working at the bookstore, each day weaving him more intricately into the fabric of the quaint establishment. On a particularly slow Saturday morning, the store was bathed in the soft, diffused light of an overcast sky, casting a serene tranquility over the shelves brimming with stories.

Cody, who had by now familiarized himself with every nook and cranny of the store, was tidying up a section when he stumbled upon a well-thumbed copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' tucked away behind some newer releases. Curiosity piqued, he glanced over at Obi-Wan, who was engrossed in a book at the counter.

"Didn't take you for a fan of Regency romances," Cody remarked playfully, holding up the novel with an intrigued smile.

Obi-Wan looked up, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "Ah, yes, that's one of my personal favorites," he confessed, his voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and fondness. "Regency romances were actually my major back in university."

Cody's eyebrows arched in surprise, his smile broadening. "Really? I never would have guessed. You studied literature at the university?"

Obi-Wan nodded, a nostalgic glimmer in his eyes. "Yes, at the same one you're attending. I had a particular affinity for the romanticism and societal intricacies of the Regency period. There’s something about the elegance and the underlying passion of that era that always fascinated me."

Cody, intrigued, moved closer, the book still in hand. "I've always seen these novels as just love stories, but you make them sound like something more."

"There is much more to them," Obi-Wan said, leaning forward, his enthusiasm evident. "They are windows into the customs, the restraints, and the quiet rebellions of the time. The characters navigate through societal norms with such intricate emotions and intentions."

As Obi-Wan spoke, Cody found himself captivated, not just by the insight into the novels, but by the animated way Obi-Wan described them. His eyes sparkled with passion, and his hands moved expressively, painting the air with his words. Cody realized there was a depth to Obi-Wan he had yet to uncover, layers that extended beyond the calm and collected exterior of the bookstore owner.

"Maybe I should give one of these a read," Cody said thoughtfully, flipping through the pages of 'Pride and Prejudice'. "Any recommendations on where to start?"

"Start with that one in your hands," Obi-Wan suggested, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "It's a classic for a reason. And if you have any questions or want to discuss it, I'm more than willing."

The offer, simple as it was, felt like an invitation into a part of Obi-Wan’s world that Cody had not yet explored. It was an opportunity to connect on a level they hadn’t before, a prospect that filled Cody with an unexpected sense of excitement.

The rest of the day passed with a new, subtle energy between them. Cody found himself stealing glances at Obi-Wan, pondering this newfound facet of his character. Obi-Wan, in turn, caught Cody’s gaze several times, each exchange sending a ripple of something unspoken through the air.

As the day drew to a close and the last customer left, Cody lingered at the counter. "I'm looking forward to starting this," he said, holding up the novel. "Thanks for the recommendation, Obi-Wan."

"It was my pleasure, Cody," Obi-Wan replied, his voice warm with sincerity. "Enjoy the journey into Regency England."

With a final smile, Cody tucked the book under his arm and headed out, leaving Obi-Wan in the quiet aftermath. As he locked up the bookstore, Obi-Wan found himself reflecting on the day, on the shared moments and the unexplored paths that lay ahead. His heart felt lighter, buoyed by the prospect of new conversations, new shared experiences with Cody. It was a connection that was slowly, yet undeniably, transforming from mere acquaintance into something much richer, something that hinted at the promise of deeper bonds yet to be formed.

A week had whisked by since Cody borrowed 'Pride and Prejudice' from the bookstore, a week in which the pages of Regency England had unfurled before him. Saturday arrived, bringing with it the familiar rhythm of a workday at the bookstore. Cody stepped through the door that morning with a sense of purpose, the novel tucked securely under his arm.

Obi-Wan, rearranging a display of new arrivals, looked up at Cody's entrance. There was a quiet anticipation in his gaze, a silent inquiry about the novel. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow that danced over the bookshelves and spilled onto the floor, creating a welcoming ambience.

"I finished it," Cody announced, placing the book on the counter with a thoughtful expression. "And while I can appreciate the charm and the wit of Austen, I think I'm more of a mystery and adventure kind of guy."

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled with amusement and interest. "Is that so?" he replied, leaning on the counter. "Well, there's no shortage of mystery and adventure here. Any particular favorites or authors you're drawn to?"

Cody’s face lit up with a more animated expression. "I've always been a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle's work. There’s something about Sherlock Holmes' deductive reasoning and the atmospheric London he navigates that I find really engaging."

"Ah, the classic detective and his loyal companion, Watson," Obi-Wan mused, his voice warm with shared enthusiasm. "There's a timeless quality to those stories, a blend of intellect and intrigue that's hard to resist."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, the topics meandering from one author to another, from classic literature to contemporary thrillers. As they talked, Cody found himself drawn into Obi-Wan's world of books even more deeply. There was a passion in Obi-Wan's words, a depth of knowledge that was both impressive and endearing.

Obi-Wan, in turn, was captivated by Cody's perspectives, finding joy in the young man's keen insights and the lively spark in his eyes as he spoke. There was a connection forming between them, one that transcended the roles of employer and employee, something more profound and intimate.

As the morning gave way to afternoon, the bookstore filled with customers, but the energy of their conversation lingered in the air. Obi-Wan and Cody worked side by side, their interactions marked by an easy camaraderie and occasional shared glances that spoke volumes.

Later, as the day began to wind down and the last customer left, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves alone amidst the quiet serenity of the bookstore.

"You know," Cody said, leaning against the counter, "talking about books with you, it's like seeing them in a whole new light. It makes coming to work here even more enjoyable."

Obi-Wan’s face softened with a genuine smile. "I'm glad to hear that, Cody. And I must admit, having you here has brought a new dimension to this place. It's... refreshing."

The words hung in the air, charged with an unspoken emotion, a recognition of the bond that was steadily growing between them. As they locked up the store and said their goodbyes, there was a lingering sense of connection, a promise of more conversations and shared moments to come.

As Cody walked away, book in hand, and Obi-Wan watched him leave, they both felt a quiet anticipation for the next day, for the next chapter in their unfolding story. The bookstore, a haven of stories and dreams, had become the backdrop to their own evolving narrative, one that was just beginning to be written.

*** 

As the weeks unfurled, the bookstore wove its timeless spell around Cody and Obi-Wan, drawing them into an ever-deepening camaraderie. Cody's presence during the week, a studious figure immersed in his architectural designs, had become a constant in the quiet hum of the store. On weekends, his role shifted to that of Obi-Wan’s assistant, their interactions punctuated by shared tasks and easy conversations that spanned from the philosophical depths of literature to the light-hearted banter of daily life.

The air between them was charged with an unspoken recognition, a realization that what had started as a mere curiosity was blossoming into something richer, more profound. It was in the way Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on Cody a moment longer than necessary, in the warmth that radiated from him whenever Cody entered the room.

One particularly rainy afternoon, as the soft patter of raindrops created a cocoon around the bookstore, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves alone, organizing a section of historical novels. The rhythmic sound of the rain against the windows lent a cozy intimacy to the store, a world removed from the bustle outside.

Cody, arranging books on a lower shelf, paused and looked up at Obi-Wan. "You know, I never imagined I'd find a place like this," he said, his voice a blend of gratitude and reflection. "Or someone like you. You've made me see books, see the world, in a new light."

Obi-Wan, standing close, books in hand, met Cody's gaze. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness that he rarely allowed others to see. "Cody, I..." he began, then hesitated, searching for the right words. "I feel the same. Having you here, it's changed the bookstore for me, made it more... alive."

The words hung in the air, a confession of sorts, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, the unspoken emotions swirling around them like the gentle storm outside.

Cody broke the silence, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I guess we're both discovering new chapters, aren't we?"

Obi-Wan returned the smile, a warmth spreading through him. "Yes, we are," he agreed, his heart beating a little faster.

Their conversation drifted to other topics, but the underlying current remained, a shared awareness of the growing affection between them. As they continued their work, their movements became more synchronized, a dance of two people becoming increasingly attuned to each other.

The rest of the day passed in a comfortable rhythm, marked by shared laughs, meaningful glances, and an ease that spoke of a deepening bond. When it was time to close, they lingered at the door, neither quite ready to part ways.

"See you tomorrow, Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.

"Tomorrow," Obi-Wan echoed, watching as Cody stepped out into the rain, an umbrella blooming open above him.

As the door closed, Obi-Wan stood there for a moment, lost in thought. The bookstore, once a haven for solitary contemplation, had become the setting of something new and exhilarating – a connection with Cody that promised to turn the page to a new and uncharted chapter in both their lives. The rain continued to tap against the window, a gentle reminder of the world outside, but inside, Obi-Wan's heart was alight with the warmth of possibilities yet to come.

*** 

Weeks cascaded into months, and the cozy bookstore continued to be a sanctuary of shared glances and unspoken words between Cody and Obi-Wan. The subtle transformation in their relationship was like a quietly unfolding novel, each chapter revealing deeper layers of connection and affection.

During the week, Cody and his brother Rex would frequent the store to study, their heads bent over books and notes. Rex, observant and perceptive, began to notice the nuanced changes in the air whenever Cody and Obi-Wan interacted. It was in the way Cody's eyes would unconsciously seek out Obi-Wan, lighting up when their gazes met. It was in the lingering smiles, the soft timbre of their voices, rich with an undercurrent of something more than just friendship.

One quiet afternoon, as the golden sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the rows of books, Rex watched as Cody and Obi-Wan shared a laugh over a small anecdote Obi-Wan had recounted. The laughter faded, but their smiles remained, a silent acknowledgement of the joy they found in each other’s company.

Rex leaned back in his chair, his book momentarily forgotten. He had seen his brother in various stages of life, but this was different. Cody was smitten, thoroughly and irrevocably, with Obi-Wan. And from what Rex could tell, the feeling was mutual.

Later, as they packed up to leave, Rex decided to broach the subject. "Cody, can I ask you something?" he said, his tone casual but curious.

Cody looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Sure, what's up?"

"It's about Obi-Wan," Rex started, watching Cody's reaction closely. "I've noticed... well, it seems like there's something more between you two. Am I wrong?"

Cody's face flushed a soft shade of pink, a mix of embarrassment and realization dawning on him. "I... well, I guess it's hard to hide," he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I do like him, Rex. More than I probably should."

Rex nodded, understanding and supportive. "And I think he feels the same, Cody. I've seen the way he looks at you."

Cody’s eyes held a blend of hope and uncertainty. "Do you think so?" he asked, the question laden with the weight of his feelings.

"I do," Rex affirmed, placing a reassuring hand on Cody's shoulder. "Just be careful, okay? I want you to be happy, but I also don't want you to get hurt."

Cody nodded, a silent appreciation in his gaze. "Thanks, Rex. I'll be careful. I promise."

As they stepped out of the bookstore, Rex glanced back at Obi-Wan, who was watching them leave. There was a softness in Obi-Wan's eyes, a look that spoke volumes. Rex felt a sense of reassurance, a belief that whatever was brewing between Cody and Obi-Wan was genuine and profound.

The walk home was filled with contemplative silence, both brothers lost in their thoughts. Cody was grappling with the newfound acknowledgment of his feelings for Obi-Wan, the possibilities and fears it entailed. Rex, on the other hand, was contemplating the changing dynamics, hopeful yet cautious about the future.

The bookstore, a haven of stories and dreams, had unknowingly become the stage for their own evolving story, a narrative rich with emotion and the promise of something beautiful yet to be fully realized.

That night, under the canopy of a starlit sky, Rex found himself wrestling with a turmoil of thoughts. Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, the shadows cast by the moonlight playing across the room. His mind replayed the conversation with Cody, the admission, the hope in his brother's eyes. Yet, intermingled with these reflections was a growing seed of worry, a concern that gnawed at the edges of his initial support.

Seven years. The age difference between Cody and Obi-Wan lingered in Rex's mind, a stark number that seemed to grow more significant in the quiet of the night. He turned over on his side, a sense of unease settling over him. Had he been too quick to encourage Cody? Was he inadvertently setting his brother up for a fall?

The more Rex thought about it, the more the idea of their relationship began to unsettle him. Obi-Wan, with his quiet charm and mature demeanor, was a world apart from the youthful, spirited Cody. Rex respected Obi-Wan, admired him even, for the sanctuary he had created in the bookstore, for the way he had welcomed them both. But this, this was different.

The clock ticked on, its rhythmic sound a steady reminder of the passing hours. Rex turned again, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He cared deeply for Cody, wanted nothing but happiness for him, but the thought of his brother potentially getting hurt was unbearable.

The thought stayed with Rex, a persistent echo throughout the night. By the time morning arrived, painting the room with the first light of dawn, Rex had made a decision. He couldn't, in good conscience, encourage this relationship. The risk, he felt, was too great.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, Cody lost in his thoughts, likely about Obi-Wan, while Rex grappled with how to voice his concerns. As they prepared to leave for the day, Rex finally spoke up.

"Cody, about yesterday... I've been thinking," he began, his voice hesitant. "Maybe I was too quick to... you know, about you and Obi-Wan."

Cody looked at him, a frown creasing his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he's a great guy, but he's also seven years older than you. That's not a small thing," Rex said, the words difficult but necessary.

Cody's expression shifted, a blend of confusion and hurt flickering in his eyes. "I thought you were okay with it," he replied, a note of defensiveness creeping into his voice.

"I am, or I was," Rex said, struggling to articulate his turmoil. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, Cody. Relationships are complicated, and with the age gap, it's just... I don't know."

The brothers walked in silence, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Rex's heart was heavy with concern, while Cody’s mind raced with a mix of doubt and disappointment.

As they reached the bookstore, the familiar chime of the doorbell sounded almost melancholic. Rex cast a glance at Cody, who offered a forced smile before heading to his usual spot to study.

Rex watched him go, a knot of worry in his stomach. He hoped he had done the right thing, yet the uncertainty remained, a lingering question mark over the complexities of the heart.

**** 

The evening found Obi-Wan stepping into a familiar café, a place steeped in nostalgia and echoes of his university days. Here, beneath the warm glow of dimmed lights and the soft murmur of conversations, he was meeting his old friends, Mace, Plo Koon, and Quinlan. They had shared not just a dorm but countless memories during their university years. Now, each had carved their own path, teaching at the university, molding minds in academic halls. Obi-Wan, though, had chosen a different route, one that indulged his love for literature in the quaint confines of his bookstore.

As they settled into a quiet corner, the air was filled with laughter and the easy banter of old friends reuniting. Mace, always the perceptive one, noticed a subtle change in Obi-Wan, a certain preoccupation in his usually serene demeanor.

"Everything alright, Obi-Wan?" Mace inquired, his gaze sharp but concerned.

Obi-Wan hesitated, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. The café, with its soft jazz playing in the background and the gentle clink of cups, suddenly felt too intimate, too revealing. "Actually, there's something I've been meaning to talk about," he began, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

The others leaned in, a silent show of support and curiosity. Plo Koon, with his kindly eyes, gave Obi-Wan an encouraging nod.

"It's about one of your students, Plo," Obi-Wan continued, his eyes meeting Plo's. "Cody, he's been working at my bookstore for a while now, and... well, I think I might have feelings for him."

A hush fell over the group, the revelation hanging in the air. Quinlan raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and intrigue on his face. "Cody? He's a bright kid, top of his class in architecture," he commented.

"I think I have feelings for him. But I haven’t felt this way since... since Satine."

The mention of Satine brought a collective nod of understanding from the group. They remembered all too well the heartbreak Obi-Wan had endured, how Satine, a fellow student back then, had drifted away from him, leaving him with a wound that had taken years to heal.

Mace, leaning forward, placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. "That was a tough time for you, we all know that. But it's been six years, Obi-Wan. You can't let one bad experience dictate your life."

Quinlan, always the more outspoken, chimed in. "Six years isn’t a huge age gap, and from what I've seen of Cody in my classes, he's mature for his age. He’s not Satine, Obi-Wan. You can't project the past onto him."

Plo Koon, his voice gentle and reassuring, added, "It's natural to be cautious, Obi-Wan, but you also deserve happiness. We've all seen bigger age differences work out just fine. The question is, does he make you happy?"

The question lingered in the air, mingling with the soft jazz notes that filled the café. Obi-Wan pondered, his gaze distant. "He does," he admitted, almost in a whisper. "There’s a warmth, a connection I haven’t felt in a long time. I just don’t want to rush into anything."

"Then take it slow," Mace advised, his tone supportive. "Get to know him better outside the bookstore. But don’t let fear hold you back, Obi-Wan. You’ve been guarding your heart for a long time. Maybe it's time to let someone in again."

The conversation gradually shifted to other topics, but the support and understanding from his friends left a profound impact on Obi-Wan. As he left the café that evening, a sense of clarity began to settle in his mind. The night air was crisp and clear, echoing the newfound resolution in his heart.

The walk home was contemplative, Obi-Wan’s thoughts centered on Cody. The idea of exploring this budding relationship, cautiously yet earnestly, felt like a new beginning, a chance to step out of the shadows of the past.

As he unlocked the door to his home, Obi-Wan felt a gentle stirring of hope within him. The memories of Satine would always be a part of him, but now, perhaps, it was time for a new chapter, one where he could explore the possibilities that lay with Cody, a chapter filled with the promise of something genuine and heartfelt. The thought brought a small, hopeful smile to his face as he stepped inside, ready to embrace whatever the future might hold.

**** 

In the quiet sanctuary of the bookstore, where the stories whispered from aged pages and the subtle scent of books filled the air, a delicate balance had been maintained for months. Obi-Wan and Cody, each moving in their own orbits, had established a dance of friendship and unspoken emotions, a rhythm that had become a comforting part of their daily lives. Yet, beneath the surface of this camaraderie, deeper currents flowed – currents of which Obi-Wan was only half-aware and had convinced himself were one-sided.

Rex, ever observant and protective of his elder brother, had seen the way Cody's eyes would linger on Obi-Wan, the way his laughter seemed brighter, his smiles more frequent whenever Obi-Wan was near. It was clear to Rex that Cody harbored deeper feelings for Obi-Wan, feelings that Obi-Wan, in his cautious restraint, had either missed or chosen to ignore.

One evening, as the bookstore was winding down and the soft glow of the lamps cast a cozy ambiance, Rex approached Obi-Wan at the counter. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by a seriousness that immediately drew Obi-Wan's attention.

"Obi-Wan, can we talk?" Rex's voice carried a gravity that signaled the importance of his words.

"Of course, Rex. What's on your mind?" Obi-Wan responded, his expression one of open concern.

Rex took a deep breath, his protective instinct for Cody at the forefront. "It's about Cody," he began, his gaze steady. "I know he's more than just a friend to you, and you to him. But he's my brother, and I've always looked out for him. I've seen how he looks at you, and I'm worried."

Obi-Wan felt a flush of surprise and confusion. "Rex, I assure you, there's nothing inappropriate—"

"I'm not saying there is," Rex interrupted, his tone firm yet measured. "I just want you to be aware of how much influence you have over him. He's younger, and you're his employer. I don't want him getting hurt."

The words hit Obi-Wan like a wave, a mixture of guilt and realization washing over him. He had always prided himself on his integrity, especially regarding Cody. The idea that he might unwittingly be leading Cody on, or worse, taking advantage of his feelings, was deeply unsettling.

"Rex, I... I never intended," Obi-Wan stammered, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "I've always seen our relationship as purely platonic. If Cody feels otherwise... I had no idea."

Rex nodded, his expression softening slightly. "I know you're a good guy, Obi-Wan. But sometimes, we don't see the whole picture. Just... be careful, okay?"

Obi-Wan nodded silently, his mind reeling from the conversation. As Rex walked away, a heavy silence settled over Obi-Wan. The realization that his feelings for Cody might be mutual, and the implications of acting on them, were suddenly very real and daunting.

The store emptied, leaving Obi-Wan alone with his thoughts. The books, once sources of comfort and escape, now stood as silent witnesses to his internal turmoil. He felt a pang of something akin to shame, mixed with a fear of causing Cody any pain. The possibility of mutual affection, which should have brought joy, now seemed fraught with complexities and moral dilemmas.

Locking up the bookstore that night, Obi-Wan stepped out into the cool air, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Rex's words echoed in his ears, a reminder of the responsibility he held, not just as Cody's employer but as someone who, despite his denials, might hold a piece of Cody's heart. The walk home was longer than usual, each step heavy with contemplation and a newfound wariness of the path his heart had unwittingly taken.

*** 

The following Saturday dawned with a sense of foreboding for Obi-Wan. Rex's words from their previous conversation echoed in his mind, a constant, nagging reminder of the complexity and potential consequences of his feelings for Cody. As he prepared the bookstore for the day, each action felt heavier, each decision more consequential. The usual excitement he felt in anticipation of Cody's arrival was now tinged with a sense of trepidation.

When Cody finally stepped through the door, his usual bright smile in place, Obi-Wan felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He greeted Cody with a polite nod and a subdued "good morning," a stark contrast to their usually warm exchanges. Cody, taken aback by the formal greeting, tried to gauge Obi-Wan's mood.

"Everything okay, Obi-Wan?" Cody asked, a hint of concern lacing his voice.

Obi-Wan forced a smile, his heart heavy. "Yes, everything's fine. Just one of those mornings, you know?"

As the day progressed, Obi-Wan found himself consciously maintaining a distance from Cody, his interactions professional and devoid of their usual camaraderie. He avoided lingering conversations, focusing instead on mundane tasks and keeping himself busy with stocking shelves and organizing the back office.

Cody, sensing the change in Obi-Wan's demeanor, couldn't help but feel a sting of hurt. The warm, comfortable atmosphere they had cultivated over the months seemed to have evaporated, leaving a cold void in its place. He found himself glancing at Obi-Wan frequently, trying to understand the sudden shift. Each curt response, each avoided eye contact from Obi-Wan, felt like a small rejection, a denial of the connection he had come to cherish.

The usually lively bookstore felt oppressively quiet to Cody, the silence between them a stark reminder of the intangible barrier that had formed overnight. He tried to focus on his work, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Obi-Wan, to the laughter and conversations that now felt like distant memories.

As the day neared its end, and the sun cast long shadows across the bookstore, Cody approached Obi-Wan at the counter, a sense of resolve in his steps.

"Obi-Wan, if I've done something to upset you, please tell me," Cody said, his voice low and earnest. "I thought we were friends, but it feels like you're avoiding me today."

Obi-Wan hesitated, torn between his own feelings and the responsibility he felt towards Cody. "Cody, you haven't done anything wrong. It's just me... I need to sort out some things. I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable."

Cody searched Obi-Wan's face for clues, for any sign of the warmth he had grown accustomed to. "Okay, if you're sure. Just know that I'm here if you need to talk," he offered, the words spoken with genuine care.

The finality of the day's closing brought a sense of relief to Obi-Wan, yet also a deep-seated regret. As he locked the doors and watched Cody walk away, a part of him yearned to call out, to bridge the gap he had created. But the fear of what might happen, of stepping over a line he wasn't sure existed, held him back.

That night, Obi-Wan lay awake, the events of the day replaying in his mind. The distance he had put between them felt like a necessary precaution, yet it also felt like a loss, a step away from something that might have been beautiful. In his heart, he knew that his feelings for Cody were more than mere friendship, but Rex's words, the potential imbalance of their relationship, loomed large, casting a shadow over any possibility of exploring what those feelings might mean. The quiet loneliness of his room was a stark contrast to the lively, warm presence of Cody, a reminder of the delicate dance of human emotions and the choices that define them.

Cody, feeling a whirlwind of confusion and hurt after the day at the bookstore, knew there was only one person who could provide the clarity he so desperately sought: his grandfather, Jaster. Jaster had always been a pillar of wisdom in Cody's life, offering guidance and understanding in moments of uncertainty.

As Cody drove to his grandfather's house, the familiar route offered little comfort. His mind replayed the day's events, each interaction with Obi-Wan scrutinized, each moment of distance dissected. The more he thought about it, the more bewildered he felt. He had been so sure, so hopeful, about the connection they shared.

Arriving at Jaster's home, a quaint cottage surrounded by a well-tended garden, Cody felt a slight easing of the tension that had built up inside him. Jaster, a robust man in his late seventies with a gentle smile and eyes that sparkled with a mix of mischief and wisdom, greeted Cody warmly.

"Cody, my boy, what brings you here?" Jaster asked, his voice rich with affection as he led Cody into the cozy living room.

Cody took a deep breath, the familiar scents of the house – a blend of old books and a hint of pine – providing a small sense of comfort. "Grandpa, I... I need some advice," he began, hesitantly.

Jaster settled into his favorite armchair, gesturing for Cody to sit across from him. "You know you can tell me anything, Cody."

It took a moment for Cody to find the words, his emotions a tangled web. "It's about Obi-Wan," he said finally, his voice laced with a mix of hope and apprehension. "I think I've fallen for him. More than just a friend. But lately, he's been distant, and I don't understand why. I thought... I thought we had something special."

Jaster listened intently, his expression one of understanding and empathy. "Love can be a tricky thing, Cody. It opens us up in ways we never expect. But tell me, have you shared these feelings with Obi-Wan?"

Cody shook his head, a sense of regret washing over him. "No, I haven't. I was actually working up the courage to ask him out for drinks or something. But now, with the way he's been acting, I'm not sure if he even sees me that way."

Jaster leaned forward, his gaze steady and reassuring. "Cody, sometimes people react out of fear or uncertainty, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. Maybe Obi-Wan is dealing with his own doubts or concerns. The best course might be to talk to him openly about how you feel."

Cody nodded, the wisdom in his grandfather's words resonating within him. "I just don't want to ruin what we already have," he admitted, the fear of rejection clear in his voice.

"Sometimes, taking a risk is the only way to find true happiness," Jaster said gently. "But whatever you decide, know that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to feel what you're feeling."

The conversation continued, Jaster offering both comfort and counsel, helping Cody navigate the tumultuous waters of his emotions. As Cody left his grandfather's house later that evening, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The advice to be open and honest with Obi-Wan echoed in his mind, a daunting yet necessary step he knew he had to take.

The drive back was contemplative, Cody's thoughts a mix of apprehension and resolve. The idea of baring his heart to Obi-Wan was frightening, yet the possibility of discovering a mutual affection, of exploring the potential of what they could be, offered a glimmer of hope. He knew the conversation with Obi-Wan wouldn't be easy, but it was a bridge he was now willing to cross, armed with the wisdom and encouragement from the one person who had always guided him through life's complexities.

Cody, carrying the weight of his newfound resolve, sought out Rex the following day. He found his younger brother immersed in his studies at the bookstore, his brow furrowed in concentration. The air was filled with the soft rustle of pages and the distant hum of the city outside – a peaceful backdrop to the tumultuous emotions swirling within Cody.

"Rex, can we talk for a sec?" Cody asked, his voice tinged with both determination and apprehension.

Rex looked up, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Sure, what's up?"

Cody took a deep breath, the words he had rehearsed with his grandfather now sitting on the edge of his tongue. "I've decided to ask Obi-Wan out, after the exams are over. I know you have your doubts, but I feel like this is something I have to do."

Rex's eyes widened slightly, a mix of worry and surprise evident in his gaze. "Cody, are you sure about this? I mean, Obi-Wan's a great guy, but the age difference, and him being your boss..."

Cody nodded, a resolute look in his eyes. "I know, but I can't shake these feelings, Rex. I need to know if there's a chance for something more between us."

Rex sighed, his protective instincts kicking in. "Alright, just... be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

Cody offered a small, grateful smile. "I will. Thanks, Rex."

The conversation lingered in Rex's mind as he returned to his studies, a sense of foreboding accompanying his thoughts. He couldn't help but worry about the potential fallout, the complications that could arise from Cody's confession.

Later that day, as Rex was packing up his things, Obi-Wan approached him. "Rex, could you pass a message to Cody for me? I won't be here tomorrow when he's supposed to work. I have to help Quinlan with some exam corrections for his literature courses."

Rex, caught off guard by the request, nodded. "Sure, I'll let him know. Anything else?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, a troubled look crossing his face. "Just... tell him I'm sorry for missing the day. I'll make it up to him."

Rex observed Obi-Wan closely, sensing an undercurrent of something unspoken in his tone. "No problem, Obi-Wan. I'll pass it along."

As Rex left the bookstore, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Obi-Wan's request, innocent as it seemed, felt like another piece in the complex puzzle of emotions and intentions surrounding his brother and the bookstore owner.

The walk home was filled with Rex's internal debate – the desire to protect Cody from potential heartache, the hope that perhaps something beautiful could blossom between him and Obi-Wan, and the fear of being caught in the middle of it all. He knew he would have to tread carefully, to be there for Cody, come what may, while also respecting his brother's decision to follow his heart.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, left alone in the quiet bookstore, felt a pang of regret at the lie he had told Rex. The truth was, he needed time to think, to process his own feelings for Cody, which he had kept buried beneath a veneer of friendship and professionalism. Helping Quinlan was just a convenient excuse to put some distance between himself and Cody, to avoid facing the reality of what might happen if Cody ever revealed his feelings.

The bookstore closed for the night, and Obi-Wan walked home under a starlit sky, his thoughts a tangled web of fear, longing, and uncertainty. The prospect of Cody asking him out, something he had both yearned for and dreaded, now loomed large in his mind, a decision that could change everything. He knew he would have to face his feelings soon, but for now, the night offered a brief respite, a chance to gather his courage for the days ahead.

Rex walked into the bustling atmosphere of their family home, the sounds of life and laughter echoing through the halls. He found Cody in the kitchen, surrounded by the usual chaos of their younger siblings. The air was thick with the aroma of dinner cooking, and the countertop was cluttered with various ingredients and utensils.

"Cody, got a minute?" Rex asked, motioning for his brother to step aside from the commotion.

Cody wiped his hands on a dish towel and followed Rex to the quieter living room. "What's up?" he asked, noting the serious expression on Rex's face.

Rex hesitated, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on him. He knew what he was about to do might hurt Cody, but he believed it was for the best. "I talked to Obi-Wan at the bookstore today. He asked me to tell you he won't be in tomorrow. Said he's got... a date."

Cody's expression faltered, a visible shadow crossing his face. "A date?" he repeated, the word sounding hollow, distant. A myriad of emotions flickered across his eyes – confusion, hurt, a sense of betrayal.

"Yeah," Rex continued, his voice laced with feigned casualness. "I guess he's seeing someone."

Cody turned away, his gaze falling to the floor. The news felt like a physical blow, a sharp, unexpected pain that cut through the hope he had been nurturing. All the moments he had shared with Obi-Wan, the laughter, the deep conversations, suddenly seemed insignificant, overshadowed by this revelation.

"I... I see," Cody managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks for telling me."

Rex watched his brother retreat into himself, a part of him regretting the lie but holding onto the belief that it was better for Cody to face this disappointment now rather than later.

Cody excused himself, citing a need for some fresh air. He stepped outside into the cool evening, the sky painted with hues of twilight. The world around him felt suddenly distant, unimportant. He walked aimlessly, his mind replaying every interaction with Obi-Wan, searching for signs he had missed, clues that Obi-Wan was interested in someone else.

The hurt settled in his chest, a heavy, aching presence. He had been so close to revealing his feelings, so close to taking that leap. Now, the thought of Obi-Wan with someone else made him question everything – their friendship, the connection he had felt, the moments he had cherished.

Back at the house, Rex observed his brother's departure with a conflicted heart. He knew he had taken a risk, one that might backfire. But in his mind, he was protecting Cody, shielding him from a potential heartbreak that could shatter him. Rex hoped that, in time, Cody would understand and forgive him for this deception.

As the night deepened, both brothers were lost in their thoughts, each grappling with the complexities of emotions and the decisions that had led them to this point. For Cody, it was a night of heartache and questioning, a turning point in his feelings for Obi-Wan. For Rex, it was a restless night, filled with doubt and the hope that he had made the right choice. The path ahead was uncertain, the outcome unknown, but the journey of their hearts continued, each step laden with the weight of unspoken words and hidden truths.

As Obi-Wan and Quinlan sat in the quietude of Quinlan's office, surrounded by the academic trappings of marked papers and textbooks, the air was filled with the rhythmic scratching of pens and an undercurrent of thoughtful silence. It was in this contemplative atmosphere that Obi-Wan broached the subject weighing heavily on his mind.

“Quinlan, can we talk about something personal?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice tinged with hesitance.

Quinlan glanced up, his sharp eyes softening. “Of course, Obi-Wan. What’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan delved into the heart of his turmoil. “It’s about Cody. Rex, his brother, warned me off, saying I might be reading too much into our friendship. I’ve been trying to keep my distance, but I’m... I’m not sure of my own feelings anymore.”

Quinlan leaned back, his expression turning pensive. “I’ve been to your store, Obi-Wan. I’ve seen you and Cody together. There’s a connection there, and it’s not just one-sided. Cody looks at you in a way that’s more than just friendly.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and introspection flickering across his face. “You think so? I’ve been convincing myself that he just sees me as a friend, nothing more.”

“From what I’ve seen, there’s definitely something there,” Quinlan affirmed, his voice steady and reassuring. “Cody’s feelings seem to mirror your own. There’s a warmth, a mutual respect and something deeper. I think you’re both dancing around something that’s pretty clear to an outside observer.”

The words stirred something in Obi-Wan, a glimmer of hope mixed with a swirl of apprehension. “But what about the concerns Rex raised? The age difference, the fact that he works for me?”

Quinlan considered this for a moment. “Those are valid concerns, but they don’t have to be deal-breakers. You’re both adults, and as long as you approach this with honesty and respect, there’s no reason not to explore what you both clearly feel.”

Obi-Wan absorbed his friend's words, feeling a tumultuous mix of emotions. The possibility that Cody might reciprocate his feelings changed everything. It turned his carefully maintained distance into an unnecessary barrier, his caution into a potential lost opportunity.

As they wrapped up their work and parted ways, Obi-Wan felt a newfound sense of clarity. Quinlan’s observations had given him a different perspective, a nudge toward facing the truth of his feelings and the potential of what lay between him and Cody.

Walking back to the bookstore, Obi-Wan’s mind was alight with possibilities. The thought of having a conversation with Cody, of possibly stepping into a relationship, was both daunting and exhilarating. He realized now that he owed it to both of them to find out where their mutual affection could lead.

That evening, as Obi-Wan walked through the quiet streets, his thoughts were filled with Cody. The prospect of opening up about his feelings, of potentially starting a new chapter together, brought a mix of nerves and excitement. The night seemed to hold a sense of promise, a whisper of what could be if he only dared to reach out and grasp it. With each step, Obi-Wan felt a growing resolve. It was time to step out of the shadows of doubt and into the light of possibility.

*** 

The walk back to his car from the bookstore felt longer than usual for Cody. The day had been strangely hollow without Obi-Wan's presence, the store's usually comforting atmosphere now tinged with a sense of emptiness. As he passed by the university, lost in his thoughts, a familiar figure caught his eye.

There, in the soft glow of the streetlights, was Obi-Wan, engaged in what appeared to be a heartfelt hug with Professor Quinlan Voss. Cody stopped in his tracks, a pang of hurt coursing through him. The scene before him seemed to confirm his worst fears - the warning from Rex, the distance Obi-Wan had been maintaining, and now this. His heart sank as he jumped to the conclusion that this must be the date Rex had mentioned.

In that moment, the pieces fell into place in the most painful way. Cody watched as Obi-Wan and Quinlan parted ways, each with a friendly pat on the back and a smile. But to Cody, it appeared as a confirmation of a budding relationship, a visual representation of his unrequited feelings.

Feeling a mix of sadness and resignation, Cody continued to his car, his steps heavy with a sense of defeat. The pain of what he perceived as unreturned affection weighed heavily on him, casting a shadow over the fond memories he had of his time in the bookstore with Obi-Wan.

The drive home was a blur, Cody's mind preoccupied with the scene he had just witnessed. The thought of continuing to work and study at the bookstore, in the constant presence of Obi-Wan, seemed unbearable now. How could he keep subjecting himself to this heartache, day after day, knowing that his feelings were one-sided?

By the time he reached home, Cody had made up his mind. He couldn't keep putting himself through this emotional turmoil. The bookstore, once a place of joy and learning, had become a reminder of his unreciprocated feelings. It was time to step back, to distance himself from the source of his pain.

That night, Cody lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the day's events. The thought of not seeing Obi-Wan every day brought a profound sense of loss, yet he knew he needed to protect his heart. He would find another place to study, maybe even look for a different job. It would be hard, but he needed to heal, to move past these feelings that now seemed so misguided.

As sleep finally claimed him, Cody felt a sense of resolve amidst the heartache. He would start tomorrow afresh, a step away from the past and towards a future where he could mend the pieces of his broken heart. The journey ahead would be difficult, but necessary – a path he must walk to find peace and, hopefully, one day, a love that was returned.

*** 

In the quietude of the bookstore on Monday evening, a sense of finality hung in the air as thick as the scent of old books. Cody, weighed down by a heavy heart, pushed open the door, his footsteps echoing softly in the silent space. The familiar sight of Obi-Wan behind the counter, a staple in this refuge of literature, now only amplified the ache in Cody's heart.

Obi-Wan looked up, his features brightening momentarily before registering the seriousness in Cody’s demeanor. “Cody, what's the matter?” he asked, concern etching his voice.

Gathering his resolve, Cody spoke, his voice steady but laced with an underlying current of pain. "Obi-Wan, I... I need to step back from the job here. It's just... things have become too complicated."

The words struck Obi-Wan like a physical blow, surprise and confusion clouding his face. "Complicated? How? Cody, what’s happened?"

Cody hesitated, his gaze drifting away. “It’s just... working here, with you being my boss and all... I think I might have gotten the wrong idea about... us.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.

Obi-Wan’s heart sank, a surge of guilt washing over him. Rex’s warning echoed in his mind, and Cody’s words seemed to confirm his worst fears – that he had inadvertently misused his position of authority.

“I’m so sorry, Cody. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I never intended...” Obi-Wan’s words trailed off, the realization of the situation leaving him at a loss.

Cody shook his head, offering a weak, resigned smile. “It’s not your fault, Obi-Wan. I just need some time to sort things out on my own. This job... it’s meant a lot to me, but right now, I think it’s best if I leave.”

The conversation was brief, the air between them filled with a myriad of unspoken thoughts and emotions. As Cody turned to leave, Obi-Wan felt a deep sense of regret, his own feelings tangled in a web of misunderstanding and perceived improprieties.

“Goodbye, Obi-Wan,” Cody said quietly, his hand on the door.

“Goodbye, Cody,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The door closed softly, leaving Obi-Wan alone among the shelves and books, the pillars of his life that now seemed cold and distant. The store, once a haven of warmth and connection, now felt empty, a stark reminder of what he had lost.

As the night drew in, Obi-Wan stood motionless, lost in a sea of regret and confusion. The pain of Cody’s departure was compounded by the thought that he had, however unintentionally, caused Cody distress. The realization that his own repressed feelings might have contributed to the situation only deepened his sense of guilt.

The bookstore closed for the night, but for Obi-Wan, there was no respite from his thoughts. He walked home under the starlit sky, each step a reminder of the delicate dance of emotions and power dynamics that had led to this moment of separation and heartache. The missed opportunity and the misinterpretation of their relationship weighed heavily on his soul, a poignant testament to the complexity of human connections and the unintended consequences of unvoiced feelings.

**** 

In the days following Cody’s resignation from the bookstore, a palpable change had settled over him, like a shadow dimming his usually bright demeanor. The bustling energy of their family home, usually a source of comfort and liveliness, now seemed to barely register in Cody's world. He moved through the days quietly, his usual enthusiasm dulled, his laughter rare and subdued.

Rex watched his brother with a growing sense of concern and guilt. He had never seen Cody like this — so withdrawn and despondent. The lively debates, the shared jokes, and the easy banter that had always been a staple of their relationship seemed to have evaporated. Cody was physically present, yet emotionally distant, lost in his own thoughts.

Their study sessions at the bookstore, once a routine part of their week, had ceased. The absence of those visits was not just a change in location but a symbol of the emotional rift that had formed. Rex could sense the void the bookstore, and more specifically, Obi-Wan, had left in Cody’s life.

One evening, as they sat in their shared room, the silence was almost tangible. Rex glanced over at Cody, who was staring blankly at a textbook, his notes untouched. The usual fervor for his studies was absent, replaced by a listless disinterest.

"Hey, Cody," Rex started tentatively, breaking the silence. "You know, if you want to talk about anything... I'm here."

Cody looked up, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness. "Thanks, Rex. But what's there to say? I made a fool of myself over Obi-Wan, and now I have to live with it."

Rex frowned, his heart aching for his brother. "You didn't make a fool of yourself. You had feelings, that's normal. And you couldn't have known how things would turn out."

Cody sighed, a forlorn expression on his face. "Maybe, but it doesn’t change how things are now. I just feel so... lost. I miss the bookstore, I miss... him. But going back there, seeing him, it's just too painful."

Rex reached out, placing a hand on Cody's shoulder. "I get it, and I'm sorry you're going through this. But maybe, with time, it'll get easier. You'll find a way to move on."

Cody nodded, but the lack of conviction in his response was evident. The wound was still fresh, the loss too recent for any words of comfort to truly take hold.

The room fell back into silence, each brother lost in his own thoughts. Rex couldn't help but feel responsible for the part he had played in this situation. His intention had been to protect Cody, but in doing so, had he inadvertently deepened his brother's heartache?

As the night wore on, the quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions within. For Cody, it was a struggle to come to terms with his feelings, to find a way to heal from a love unrequited. For Rex, it was a time of reflection and regret, wondering if there was something more he could have done, some way he could have helped his brother navigate the complexities of his heart. The bond between the brothers remained, a constant in their ever-changing lives, but the shadow of what had transpired at the bookstore lingered, a silent testament to the intricacies of love and loss.

*** 

In the weeks that followed, the change in Obi-Wan was not only apparent to himself but also to those around him. His friends, particularly Plo Koon, Quinlan, and Mace, who had known him through various chapters of his life, could not help but notice the cloud of melancholy that seemed to have settled over him.

They often gathered at their usual haunt, a cozy café where they had spent countless evenings discussing everything from literature to the nuances of life. But recently, these meetings had taken on a different tone, with Obi-Wan's usual animated discussions replaced by a somber quietness.

One evening, as they sat around a table laden with half-finished cups of coffee, Plo Koon broached the subject that had been silently hovering over them. "Obi-Wan, you've been awfully quiet these past few weeks. Is everything alright?"

Obi-Wan offered a strained smile, stirring his coffee absently. "I'm fine, Plo. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess."

Quinlan leaned forward, his eyes studying Obi-Wan closely. "It's about Cody, isn't it? You haven't been the same since he left the bookstore."

Obi-Wan sighed, the façade of normalcy crumbling. "Yes, it's about Cody. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping a distance. But now, I just feel like I've lost a part of myself. I miss him, and I regret not telling him how I truly feel."

Mace, ever the voice of reason, added, "You might still have a chance, Obi-Wan. Why not reach out to him?"

"It's too late for that," Obi-Wan replied, a note of resignation in his voice. "I think I hurt him more than I realized. And I can't shake off the feeling that I misused my position as his boss."

As the conversation continued, Plo Koon shared his own observations. "I've noticed a change in Cody as well, in my classes. His work isn’t what it used to be. He seems distracted, disconnected. It's clear that whatever happened between you two has affected him deeply."

The revelation only added to Obi-Wan's sense of guilt and regret. The thought of Cody suffering because of him was a bitter pill to swallow.

The evening wound down with words of encouragement from his friends, but Obi-Wan’s spirits remained low. As he walked home, the once-familiar streets seemed to echo his loneliness, each step a reminder of the void that Cody's absence had left in his life.

Meanwhile, Cody was grappling with his own sorrow. The absence of the bookstore in his daily routine felt like a missing limb, an emptiness that nothing else could fill. He tried to immerse himself in his studies, to lose himself in the world of architecture, but the passion that once drove him felt dimmed, overshadowed by his heartache.

As both men navigated their separate lives, the shared memories of their time in the bookstore haunted them, a bittersweet reminder of what had once been and what could have been. The quiet understanding and companionship that had blossomed in the aisles of the bookstore now felt like a distant dream, a chapter closed too soon in the story of their lives. The weight of unspoken words and missed opportunities lingered heavily, a silent testament to the complexities of the heart and the paths not taken.

**** 

After his architecture class, Cody lingered, his focus lost amidst his designs and thoughts. The usual excitement that came with creating and planning had dimmed under the shadow of his feelings for Obi-Wan and the seeming confirmation of their unrequited nature.

Plo Koon, having watched Cody's demeanor change over the past weeks, approached him with a mix of concern and understanding. “Cody, may I have a moment with you?” he asked gently.

Cody looked up, a bit surprised, and nodded. They moved to a quieter corner of the room, away from the bustling energy of departing students.

Plo Koon, with the empathy of a seasoned educator and mentor, spoke softly, “I’ve noticed you’ve been quite down recently. If there’s something on your mind, perhaps I can offer some perspective.”

Cody hesitated, then the words spilled out. “It’s about Obi-Wan,” he confessed, his voice tinged with sadness. “I thought there was something more between us, but then I saw him with Professor Voss. It just confirmed my fears that my feelings aren’t reciprocated.”

Plo Koon's expression shifted to one of gentle clarification. “Cody, what you saw was a misunderstanding. Obi-Wan wasn’t on a date with Professor Voss. He was merely assisting him with some academic work. In fact, Obi-Wan has been quite troubled since you left the bookstore, especially after an encounter with your brother, Rex.”

Cody's brow furrowed, a mixture of confusion and surprise evident on his face. “Rex? What does he have to do with this?”

“From what I understand, Rex had a conversation with Obi-Wan, warning him about the potential impropriety of any feelings he might have towards you, given his position as your employer. It seems to have deeply affected Obi-Wan, leading him to distance himself as a precaution,” Plo explained carefully.

This revelation struck Cody with a mix of emotions. The idea that Rex had intervened, that Obi-Wan might have feelings for him after all, but had pulled away because of a sense of propriety, was both shocking and illuminating.

“Thank you, Professor,” Cody said, a new sense of clarity dawning within him. “This changes everything. I need to talk to Obi-Wan, clear the air.”

Cody left the university, his mind racing with this new information. The weight of his heartache was still there, but now it was tempered with a sense of hope, a possibility that maybe, just maybe, things between him and Obi-Wan could be mended.

Meanwhile, Plo Koon watched Cody leave, hoping his intervention would help two people, evidently fond of each other, find their way back from the misunderstandings that had driven them apart. The complexities of the human heart, he knew, were never straightforward, but in this case, he sensed a genuine affection that deserved a chance to be explored and understood.

Cody entered the bookstore with a heart full of mixed emotions - apprehension, hope, and a newfound determination following his conversation with Plo Koon. The familiar bell chimed above the door, a sound that once brought him comfort, now a herald of the crucial conversation ahead.

The bookstore was quiet, save for the soft murmur of a few patrons in the study nook. The shelves stood like silent sentinels, witnesses to the countless interactions and unspoken words between him and Obi-Wan. But Obi-Wan himself was not behind the counter, not amidst the aisles where he usually would be, organizing or recommending books to customers.

Driven by a blend of urgency and trepidation, Cody moved towards the back of the store, where a small office and storage room lay. As he approached, he could see Obi-Wan through the half-open door. He was sitting at his desk, his posture one of deep contemplation, a stark contrast to the usual energy and warmth he exuded.

"Obi-Wan?" Cody called out softly, knocking gently on the open door.

Obi-Wan looked up, his expression transforming from solemn introspection to mild surprise. "Cody," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of emotions. "I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?"

Cody stepped inside, closing the door behind him for privacy. "We need to talk," he began, his heart beating faster with each word. "About us, about what happened."

Obi-Wan stood up, a sense of wariness in his posture. "Cody, if this is about your job, you don’t need to explain. I understand why you left."

"It's not just about the job, Obi-Wan," Cody replied, his eyes searching Obi-Wan's. "It's about us, about what I thought was happening between us. I saw you with Professor Voss and thought... But Plo Koon told me the truth, about why you've been distant."

Obi-Wan's expression shifted to one of realization, then regret. "Cody, I... Your brother, Rex, came to me. He was concerned about the nature of our relationship, given our positions. I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or misuse my role as your boss."

Cody took a step closer, his voice firm yet filled with emotion. "But did you ever consider how I felt? Obi-Wan, I have feelings for you. I thought you might feel the same, but then you pulled away, and I didn't understand why."

The confession hung in the air, a vulnerable truth laid bare. Obi-Wan looked at Cody, his own emotions surfacing - a mixture of affection and fear, hope and uncertainty.

"Cody, I... I do have feelings for you," Obi-Wan admitted, the words both liberating and frightening. "But I was scared. Scared of how it might look, scared of ruining what we had."

The room was thick with unspoken words and emotions, years of camaraderie and months of confusion culminating in this moment. Cody stepped closer still, closing the gap between them.

"Obi-Wan, I don't want to live with 'what ifs' and regrets. Can we... Can we try to see where this goes? Just us, no roles, no bookstore. Just Cody and Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan’s eyes reflected a depth of emotion, the walls he had built around his heart beginning to crumble. "Yes, Cody, I’d like that. I want to see where this journey takes us, together."

In that small back office, amidst stacks of books and papers, a new chapter in their lives began, one filled with the promise of understanding and exploring the connection that had always existed between them. They stood there, two souls finally allowing themselves to acknowledge the bond they shared, ready to navigate the uncertain yet hopeful path ahead.

Cody’s heart was pounding, a rhythm loud in his ears, as he took the final step that closed the space between them. The proximity to Obi-Wan, so long desired and yet so carefully avoided, sent a rush of adrenaline through him. The years of friendship, the months of confusion, and the recent heartache all seemed to converge in this single moment.

"Can I kiss you?" Cody's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it resonated in the small room with the weight of all the words unspoken between them.

Obi-Wan's response was a silent nod, his own apprehension and desire evident in the quickening of his breath and the slight parting of his lips. His eyes remained locked with Cody’s, a silent communication passing between them, an acknowledgment of the step they were about to take.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Cody leaned in, the distance between them diminishing until there was nothing left but the shared warmth of their breath. Their lips met in a kiss that was gentle at first, a tentative exploration, a question asked and answered without words. As the initial hesitancy faded, the kiss deepened, becoming a dance of emotion and connection, a physical manifestation of the feelings they had long harbored.

Obi-Wan’s hands, initially hanging at his sides, slowly rose to rest on Cody’s shoulders, grounding him in the reality of the moment. Cody’s own hands found their way to Obi-Wan’s waist, pulling him closer, deepening their embrace. The world around them faded into a blur, leaving only the two of them, lost in the discovery of each other.

As they eventually parted, breathless and with a newfound sense of closeness, they shared a look of wonder and a smile that spoke volumes. The barriers they had built, the fears they had clung to, seemed insignificant now in the face of this newfound intimacy.

Their eyes met, still close, conveying depths of emotion that words had previously failed to capture. In the wake of the kiss, a vulnerable, yet necessary confession hung unspoken in the air.

Cody, looking into Obi-Wan's eyes, felt a surge of courage. “Obi-Wan, I... I love you,” he said, his voice a blend of certainty and wonder. It was a truth that had been growing in his heart, unacknowledged until this moment.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and joy lighting up his features. “Cody,” he breathed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I love you too. I was just too afraid to admit it, even to myself.”

The words, so simple yet so profound, filled the room, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. It was a revelation, a release of pent-up emotions that had been restrained by fear and doubt.

For a few heartbeats, they simply stood there, basking in the newfound openness and honesty. The confession had bridged the gap between them, turning uncertainty into certainty, confusion into clarity.

Cody reached out, taking Obi-Wan's hands in his, feeling the warmth and the slight tremble that spoke of emotion and vulnerability. “I’ve wanted to say that for so long,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

Obi-Wan squeezed Cody’s hands gently, his eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness. “And I’ve wanted to hear it. To say it. Cody, you mean more to me than I ever realized.”

In that small back office, surrounded by books and the quiet hum of the world outside, Cody and Obi-Wan stood at the threshold of a new beginning. The words they had shared were more than just confessions; they were the opening lines of a new chapter in their lives, one filled with the promise of love, understanding, and the joy of being together.

The bookstore, once a simple backdrop to their daily lives, had now become the setting for their most significant moment, a place where their love had finally found its voice. As they slowly let go of each other's hands, the future lay ahead, uncharted but less daunting now that they were facing it together. The journey would be theirs to share, each step forward a testament to the love they had declared in the quiet sanctuary of their shared haven.

**** 

Epilogue 

Three years had woven their threads into the tapestry of Cody and Obi-Wan's lives, each year strengthening the bond that had blossomed in the quiet confines of the bookstore. Their love, once hesitant and unspoken, now thrived in the light of shared experiences, challenges overcome, and joys celebrated together.

On this momentous day, the air was charged with excitement and anticipation. It was Cody's graduation day, marking not only the culmination of his master's degree and specialization in architecture but also a milestone in the journey he and Obi-Wan had embarked on together.

The university auditorium was abuzz with the chatter and laughter of graduates and their families. Rows of seats were filled with proud parents, siblings, and friends, all gathered to celebrate the achievements of their loved ones.

Among the audience sat Obi-Wan, his eyes searching the sea of caps and gowns for the familiar figure of Cody. He felt a surge of pride swell in his chest as he spotted Cody, standing taller than most, his cap slightly askew, a nervous yet excited smile playing on his lips.

As the ceremony progressed, with speeches about futures bright with potential and the world awaiting the talents of the graduates, Obi-Wan's thoughts were solely on Cody. He remembered the young man who had walked into his bookstore years ago, full of dreams and aspirations, and how much he had grown, both in his craft and as a person they had built together.

Finally, the moment arrived. Cody's name was called, and he walked across the stage with a confident stride. Obi-Wan's heart swelled with an indescribable mixture of joy and love. As Cody took the diploma in hand, his achievement was met with applause and cheers, a recognition of the hard work and dedication he had poured into his studies.

Cody’s eyes found Obi-Wan's in the crowd, and in that glance, there was a shared understanding, a silent communication of love and mutual respect. Obi-Wan clapped enthusiastically, his smile broad and genuine, reflecting the immense pride he felt.

After the ceremony, as graduates mingled with their guests, Cody made his way through the crowd to Obi-Wan. They embraced, a moment of personal celebration amidst the public festivity.

"Congratulations, Cody. I’m so proud of you," Obi-Wan said, his voice filled with emotion.

Cody, holding Obi-Wan tightly, replied, "Thank you for being here, for supporting me through all of this. I couldn’t have done it without you."

They stood together, basking in the joy of the moment, surrounded by the bustling energy of the graduates and their families. Their journey had seen them navigate the uncertainties of a new relationship, the challenges of Cody's rigorous academic program, and the everyday complexities of life. Yet, through it all, their love had remained a constant, a source of strength and comfort.

As they left the auditorium, hand in hand, ready to celebrate the day's achievements, they looked forward to the future. It was a future they would build together, filled with dreams, aspirations, and the enduring love that had blossomed in a quaint bookstore, where a simple "hello" had led to a lifetime of shared moments and memories.

As Cody and Obi-Wan left their apartment above the bookstore to head to Cody's family celebration, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of anticipation. The day had already been significant, marking Cody's graduation, but for Cody, there was an additional, momentous event yet to come.

Walking side by side through the familiar streets that had become an integral part of their shared life, they chatted about the day's ceremony and the family gathering ahead. Obi-Wan, attuned to Cody's emotions, noticed an underlying current of nervous energy in him.

"You seem a bit on edge, Cody. Excited about tonight?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to gauge the cause of Cody's subtle restlessness.

Cody smiled, masking his inner turmoil with practiced ease. "Yeah, just excited, and a bit overwhelmed with everything, I guess," he replied, his mind racing with the plan he had been carefully crafting for weeks.

The celebration with Cody's family was a warm, boisterous affair, filled with laughter, congratulations, and stories shared amongst family and friends. Throughout the evening, Cody was the center of attention, yet his thoughts kept drifting to the plan he had for later that night, back at the bookstore.

Finally, as the evening wound down and they made their way back to their apartment, Cody’s heart began to race with anticipation. This was it, the moment he had been preparing for. The bookstore was quiet, its familiar shelves and aisles bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights.

"Obi-Wan, can we go inside the bookstore for a moment? I want to show you something," Cody said, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach.

Curious, Obi-Wan followed Cody into the bookstore. The space that had been the starting point of their relationship, where countless conversations and quiet moments had unfolded, now held an air of quiet expectancy.

Cody led Obi-Wan to their favorite spot, a cozy nook surrounded by shelves of books. He took a deep breath, turning to face Obi-Wan. In the soft light of the bookstore, his eyes were earnest and filled with emotion.

"Obi-Wan, these past three years with you have been the best of my life. You've made me happier than I ever thought possible," Cody began, his voice tinged with the depth of his feelings. "You've been my partner, my confidant, my best friend. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Kneeling down, Cody reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring box. He opened it to reveal a simple, elegant ring. "Obi-Wan, will you marry me?"

Obi-Wan, taken aback by the suddenness of the proposal, was momentarily speechless. Joy, surprise, and love flooded through him as he looked at Cody, kneeling before him in the heart of the place where their journey had begun.

"Yes, Cody," Obi-Wan finally said, his voice filled with emotion. "Yes, I will marry you."

As they embraced, the bookstore around them seemed to echo with the significance of the moment. It was more than just a proposal; it was a culmination of all they had shared and a promise of all the years to come. The books, silent witnesses to their love story, now bore testament to the beginning of a new chapter in their lives together, one filled with the promise of shared dreams and a future hand in hand.

In the warmth of their embrace, amidst the rows of books that had silently witnessed the evolution of their relationship, Cody and Obi-Wan shared a moment of pure joy and connection. It was a perfect culmination of their journey thus far and a beautiful beginning to their shared future.

As they pulled apart slightly, looking into each other's eyes, Cody’s thoughts briefly wandered to his brother, Rex. There had been a time of misunderstanding, where Rex's well-intentioned intervention had caused a rift between them. But with everything out in the open, Cody had come to understand and forgive Rex's actions. He knew his brother had acted out of love and concern, albeit misguidedly. The reconciliation with Rex had brought an added sense of peace and completeness to this moment.

"Obi-Wan," Cody said softly, a contented smile on his face, "you know, with everything that's happened – the misunderstandings, the reunion, and now this – it's like we're living in a romance novel."

Obi-Wan chuckled, the sound mingling with the quiet ambiance of the bookstore. "I couldn't have written a better story myself," he replied, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "And the best part is, it's our story."

They shared a gentle, affirming kiss, sealing their commitment to each other. The bookstore, once just a setting for their burgeoning relationship, had now become a sacred space, a testament to their love and the journey they had shared.

As they left the bookstore hand in hand, ready to step into the next chapter of their lives together, the world outside seemed brighter, filled with endless possibilities. Their story, indeed, was like something out of a romance novel – a tale of love found, lost, and reclaimed, set against the backdrop of a quaint bookstore that had seen them grow as individuals and as a couple.

In the quiet closing of the bookstore door behind them, there was a sense of completeness, a narrative arc fulfilled. Yet, it was also a beginning, the start of a new chapter in their lives, one filled with the promise of shared tomorrows, laughter, challenges, and love – a romance novel come to life, with its happiest ending yet to be written.

Would love to hear your thoughts and feelings about Cody and Obi-Wan's story!

[pmamtraveller]

THE AWAKENING CONSCIENCE(1853) by WILLIAM HOLMAN HUNT

In her painting “THE AWAKENING CONSCIENCE ”, HUNT shows an unmarried woman as a lover. She emphasizes her left hand where the fourth finger of her left hand does not have a ring (yet all the other fingers on her left hand have a ring, a sign of her lover’s gifts).

She rises from her lover’s lap with an enthralled expression on her face, looking out of the gloomy VICTORIAN PARLOUR into the sunlit garden beyond. The discarded glove lying on the floor beneath her may be a sign of the future she will face.

In the lower left-hand corner, the cat has trapped a bird, which reflects the man and his lady, as well as the trap that he has set for her. In this extract, Hunt offers an unconventional and controversial perspective on VICTORIAN ENGLAND’s prostitution.

Some critics have said that "HUNT was offering an alternative narrative to the downward trajectory through prostitution to the grave propagated in much of the contemporary literature surrounding the fallen woman."

The painting’s moral message is presented in a light, ambiguous way. The room’s disorientation is accentuated by the painting’s semi-risen figure, as if it’s sitting rather than rising.

This ambiguous, seemingly compassionate interpretation of a common—but never discussed—situation was a one-of-a-kind interpretation that challenged viewers to question their own judgments rather than providing them with easy moral guidelines.

[musingsofmonica]

September 2024 Diverse Reads

September 2024 Diverse Reads

•”The Fallen Fruit” by Shawntelle Madison, September 03, Amistad Press, Historical/Science Fiction/Time Travel/Cultural Heritage/African American & Black/Women/

•”Where They Last Saw Her” by Marcie R. Rendon, September 03, Bantam, Thriller/Suspense/ Mystery & Detective/Women Sleuths/Cultural Heritage/Native American & Aboriginal

•”Sky Full of Elephants” by Cebo Campbell, September 10, Simon & Schuster, Literary/Science Fiction/Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic/Magical Realism/Cultural Heritage/African American & Black

•”Reservoir Bitches: Stories” by Dahlia de la Cerda,  translated by Julia Sanches & Heather Cleary, September 10, Feminist Press, Science Fiction/Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic/Short Stories/Feminist/Women/World Literature/Mexico

•Rejection” by Tony Tulathimutte, September 17, William Morrow & Company, Literary/Coming of Age/Humor/Satire/Short Stories/Novel in Stories

•”Entitlement” by Rumaan Alam, September 17, Riverhead Books, Literary/Psychological/Family/Life/Social Themes

•”We Came to Welcome You” by Vincent Tirado, September 03, William Morrow & Company, Horror/Thriller/Psychological/Cultural Heritage/Diversity & Multicultural/LGBTQ 

•”Misinterpretation” by Ledia Xhoga, September 03, Tin House Books, Literary/Psychological/Women/Family Life/Marriage & Divorce/World Literature/New York/Albania  

•”Vilest Things” by Chloe Gong, September 10, S&S/Saga Press, Fantasy/Action & Adventure

Fantasy/Romantic/Asian Futurism

•”This World Is Not Yours” by Kemi Ashing-Giwa, September 10, Tor Nightfire, Horror/Science Fiction/Hard Science Fiction/Space Exploration/Alien Contact/LGBTQ 

•”Colored Television” by Danzy Senna, September 03, Riverhead Books, Literary/Family Life/Racial Identity/Cultural Heritage/African American & Black/Women

•”Songs for the Brokenhearted” by Ayelet Tsabari, September 10, Random House, Literary/Historical/Family Life/World Literature/New York/Yeman

•”The Hysterical Girls of St. Bernadette's” by 

Hanna Alkaf, September 24, Salaam Reads / Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, YA/Thriller/Suspense/Supernatural/Dark Academia/Social Themes/Girls & Women/People & Places/Asia

•”The Beauty of Us” by Farzana Doctor, September 17, ECW Press, Contemporary/School & Education/Boarding School & Prep School/Social Themes/Girls & Women

•“We're Alone: Essays” by Edwidge Danticat, September 03, Graywolf Press. Personal Memoir/Essays/Short Essays/Essay Collection/Reportage/Ethnic Studies/Environmental Conservation & Protection/Caribbean & Latin American/Haiti

•”The Cottage Around the Corner” by D. L. Soria, September 03, Random House Worlds, Contemporary/Romance/Romantic Comedy/Fantasy

•”When Haru Was Here” by Dustin Thao, September 03, Wednesday Books, Contemporary/Romance/Social Themes/Death, Grief, Bereavement/LGBTQ

•”Adam & Evie's Matchmaking Tour” by Nora Nguyen, September 24, Avon Books, Contemporary/Romance/Romantic Comedy/Women/Cultural Heritage/Asian American/World Literature/Vietmam

•“We'll Prescribe You a Cat” by Syou Ishida, travel by E Madison Shimoda, September 03, Berkley Books, Contemporary/Family Life/Animals/World Literature/Japan

•”We Need No Wings” by Ann Dávila Cardinal, September 10, Sourcebooks Landmark, Contemporary/Magical Realism/Family Life/Death/Women/Cultural Heritage/Hispanic & Latino/World Literature/Spain 

[harmonyhealinghub]

Edgar Allan Poe: Unraveling the Mastermind who Revolutionized Horror Shaina Tranquilino October 28, 2023

When it comes to horror literature, there is one name that stands out above all others – Edgar Allan Poe. Born in 1809, this enigmatic American author left an indelible mark on the world of literature with his dark and mysterious tales. With his unparalleled ability to delve into the depths of human psyche, Poe's work has forever transformed the genre of horror, inspiring countless authors and filmmakers over the years.

Poe's Unique Style:

Edgar Allan Poe was a master of creating an eerie atmosphere through vivid descriptions and chilling narratives. His stories were often characterized by themes of death, madness, and the macabre, leaving readers on the edge of their seats. Unlike other writers of his time, Poe refused to shy away from exploring the darker aspects of human nature.

The Birth of Detective Fiction:

Apart from his contributions to horror fiction, Poe is also hailed as the pioneer of detective fiction. In fact, his character C. Auguste Dupin was a precursor to famous detectives like Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot. Stories such as "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" and "The Purloined Letter" showcased Poe's keen analytical mind and introduced readers to deductive reasoning long before it became popular.

Psychological Depth:

One aspect that sets Poe apart from other authors is his exploration of psychological depth. He delves into the darkest corners of human consciousness and exposes our deepest fears and desires. This penetrating analysis resonates with readers even today, making his works timeless classics.

"The Tell-Tale Heart," for example, showcases how guilt can drive a person insane. The narrator's obsession with a single eye reveals not only their own deteriorating mental state but also serves as a metaphor for humanity's hidden sins lurking beneath the surface.

Legacy in Poetry:

While primarily known for his short stories, Poe's impact on poetry is equally significant. His haunting and melancholic verses have become celebrated works in their own right. Poems such as "The Raven," "Annabel Lee," and "The Bells" continue to captivate readers with their lyrical beauty, evocative imagery, and exploration of themes like love, loss, and the inevitability of death.

Influence on Contemporary Horror:

Edgar Allan Poe's influence on contemporary horror cannot be overstated. Countless authors, filmmakers, and artists draw inspiration from his unique style and themes even today. The dark atmospheres, psychological depth, and twists that have since become synonymous with the genre owe a great debt to this literary pioneer.

Poe's Legacy Continues:

Despite facing personal tragedies throughout his life and enduring financial struggles, Edgar Allan Poe left an indelible mark on literature. His work continues to resonate with audiences worldwide, captivating us with its eerie charm and immersive storytelling.

Edgar Allan Poe forever changed the world of horror through his masterful writings. His ability to explore the depths of human fear and obsession has influenced countless authors who followed in his footsteps. From his chilling tales of suspense to his introspective poetry, Poe remains an icon whose legacy will continue to haunt our collective imagination for generations to come.

[literaryvein]

L. V., i found this poem stuck between a friend's teeth

[missaster]

Hi guys!

About the update,

this was just one of those weeks when my creativity and free time had to go towards actual, money-paying work instead of silly little side quests and dreams... which sucked ass, but at least it's over!

And, I've written myself into a corner, so I have to find a way to get out of it!

(Also, maybe I shouldn't have started Sally Rooney's new book in original language, because my English writing skills are thoroughly intimidated by the Queen of Contemporary Irish Literature.)

[pagesofmystique17]

Hello wonderful people !! Here's a short story that I wrote when I was 15 but never got the courage to share it anywhere but now that I have started sharing what I write . I thought it would be good to give to share this as if holds a lot of memories and significance for me. This is the first short story that I wrote 💕.

"Sometimes in this world,there are instances that make us feel down and teared away from the rest of the world.There is an unusual beauty in a solitary life as it drives us away from the self contempt,resentment and scornful thoughts that we have because of the complexities of our contemporary society.I find myself more at peace by being alone as I know me not being there will not make a difference to anybody's life." "Millie I want you out of your room by the next two minutes!",her aunt's shrill voice stopped the movement of her pen."Am coming give me two minutes of peace,will you?",Millie said with irritation lacing in her voice. She came down and sat on the dinner table when she heard her aunt's hostile voice,"Have u forgotten that there is a world outside your room?"Millie stopped eating and said, "No I haven't but that world is not for me."She has always been like this since the night of her parent's death.No one can decipher her thoughts and she has shut out herself completely. She shows apathy in almost everything but writing which gives her an unexplainable ecstasy .After dinner she went to her room and lied on the bed while being lost in a perpetual queue of forlorn thoughts but a notification from her phone alarmed her. She swiped through the email and saw something that exulted her heart."Miss Holt this is to inform you that you have been selected for our 6 month workshop of writing. We look forward to your presence and you may join from the upcoming Monday." She couldn't believe her application for the workshop got accepted. She quickly informed her aunt and now the only thing that solely held her mind captive was the workshop. It was after years that she felt a little happy. Three days after she was all ready to join it and as she entered through the brisk door she saw so many students chatting and having jubilant laughs.Her hands and feet started sweating like it always did in crowded places when she couldn't stop herself from feeling nervous.She occupied a seat in the corner and while she was taking out her books ,she could feel a pair of eyes stealing glances in her direction. Looking up she saw a boy of her age with chocolate brown eyes and  curly hair looking at her with an endearing smile."Idiot!",she murmured in her breath. Suddenly the door opened and a tall and slim woman walked through it."Hello dear boys and girls,you all are warmly welcomed here.In this workshop we will try to enhance your writing skills and literature so your first assignment will be writing a story .It can be anything you feel attached to.",she said with a warm smile.The class ended after two hours and while she was walking towards her car she heard a distant voice,"Millie!Millie!You forgot your pen."She turned to see it was the boy from the workshop ."Here is your pen.By the way I saw how eloquently u spoke and you were wonderful.My name is Louis."He said while extending his hand.Without considering the gesture,she took the pen and started walking towards her car.

"Hey millie!You didn't say how my speech was!"

"Stop bothering me.I don't think I listened to yours." Millie could see the affliction in his eyes after she said this which made her feel guilty. "I am sorry,I didn't mean that. Yours was good too." Her words made Louis happy and he said,"Thank you so much. Let's meet tomorrow at the cafeteria and discuss our stories as you have magnificent writing skills and i could learn from them."Millie thought for a second and then agreed .

The next day Miss Winget made all of them read out their stories and it was her turn.She stood up with shivering legs and a nervous smile.She started reading out her story and as soon as she was done,the whole room broke into intense claps.She looked up to see smiles showing admiration but her eyes stopped at one person whose gaze held a queer sense of incredulity. Those were the same chocolate brown eyes. Miss Winget interrupted her thoughts and said"It was enchanting Millie!I have absolutely no words to explain how much I loved this.However I have one complain.Why did the story have to end like this ?Why the sudden turbulence and not a happy ending?" 

"I don't believe in happy endings ma'am.They are just fantasies and something far away from the bitter reality of life. Real world is not only rainbows and unicorns but also a malignant series of aghast events that prick you like thorns."Her statement made everyone numb for a second but she went to her seat and sat down ignoring all glances including Louis.After the class while packing her bag she heard Louis say,"Hey you ready to go?".She just gave a slight nod .The whole walk to the cafe was silent with just the sound of footsteps.In the cafe while she was explaining the story he looked at her with a vague look and said something which nearly stopped her heartbeat ."Who is the girl in the story Millie?"

"Who else would it be ?It was just a random character. "

"Didn't seem like that though."

"I think you  have gone insane.Am leaving."She turned to leave but his next words made her stop,"The girl in the story is you isn't it? You presented yourself because you think your life never has happy endings." Till date no one has been able to interpret her writing.Only she knew that all her stories and poems were a metaphor of her life filled with anguish and sorrow.Without waiting she ran out of the cafe and walked blankly through the streets.As she reached her house ,she buried herself in her pillow as warm tears made their way through her eyes.Her whole life flashed across her eyes and she rememberd the excruciating night of her parent's death.She just wished she could have died that night too and not face this loneliness .She didn't realise when she fell asleep while crying.

The next day Louis tried his best to talk to her but she just ignored.After the class ended,Louis went up to her and asked,"Millie am really sorry if my words from yesterday hurted you in any way,I didn't mean to." Millie just seemed to be oblivious of his presence and walked towards the door. "You are suprised  that someone can actually see through the shield you put around yourself,right ?I know of the pain that you endured in your life but I promise I will be your friend and you ain't alone." Those words from Louis made her lose her patience.She turned around with eyes full of tears and shouted at him with an incensed voice,"Not alone? You know nothing of the mental torment I face everyday and how I still bear it with stoicism. Yes,the girl in the story is me ,  a girl with a miserable and lonely life with rare or no moments of happiness." Louis kept quiet for sometime but then walked upto her and said,"I know your life has been paused by a catastrophe and you are still not over the throes of your past. Believe me happy endings are not an illusion.I know the first step of having one."

"And how is that?"

"Let's write a story together and the exception is that it will have a happy ending."

"That's a stupid idea."

"No it's not,we are writers and we express ourselves tnrough our writing so a joyful piece of work is the first step towards a charming life and of course you cannot find a better helping hand than me because I am not as pessimistic as you" ,he said making her laugh. "Okay have u thought a name to the story?",asked Millie. 

"How about Connected strings?"

"Why that suddenly?"

"No reason. I think it has a nice rythm to it"

"Okay so connected strings it is!",said Millie excitedly making both of them smile.

Days passed and they were wholely engrossed in writing the story. In this few months they had become best friends and for Millie those were the happiest days of her life .She hasn't laughed so much in her whole life as she did in these few months. She now knows why people say that friendship is a bliss.One day in the cafe she noticed Louis coughing continuously and his eyes were blood red.Being worried Millie asked him,"Hey are you okay?You look sick."

"No am completely fine let's continue writing."

"Okay!You know Miss Winget said that the best  five stories will be published by a foundation. I just hope this gets selected."

"Don't worry Millie it will get selected but after it does don't forget who helped you.You owe me a ice cream."

"Yes i won't forget",said Millie with a warm smile. Louis noticed she was a little low so he asked her what's wrong. "Nothing I never really thought i could make any friend considering my introvert nature. You are the only friend I have and the workshop is about to end.We will still be friends right?",asked Millie . "Ofcourse we will be",said Louis but the sadness that laced in his voice didn't go unnoticed by Millie but again his loud coughing distracted her and she asked,"Are u really okay?" "I am don't worry",he said while smiling at her.

Next few days Millie didn't receive any calls or text from Louis nor did he return hers and she was a little worried .As she was sitting bored in her bed she received a message from Miss Winget."Millie your work has been selected to get published.Congratulations!" After reading this she was spell bound and quickly went to share the news with her best friend,Louis. She reached his house and stopped at his doorstep. She saw the house was locked and being confused she turned to leave when her eyes fell on a letter on the swing. She opened it and started reading and with every word her world seemed to stop.

"Millie I know that by now you must have died out of heart attacks by not being able to contact me.Haha!Millie this is to tell you that I will  always be there beside you but maybe not by remaining alive.I was fighting an indomitable  disease and I had my opertaion yesterday.By now if I didn't call you and you are reading this ,it means am not in this world anymore as I asked mom to keep it on the swing for you to read only if I didn't survive.I knew you will obviously come here.Millie you must know that just like the story ,your life will also have a happy ending because you are such a pure soul.Just see yourself in the story that we wrote and let me tell you a secret. I didn't keep the name 'Connected Strings' without any reason. I always thought we  are connected,both of us not being god's favourite and finding our place in this intricate world.I know our story must have been selected so don't forget the ice cream you owe me.I will always be your best friend and see you from a parallel world maybe."

"Now here up we will listen a few words from the author of connected strings,Miss Millie Holt",announced Miss Winget as the whole auditorium filled with claps.Millie walked up to the stage and started speaking with a hollow expression,"Hello everyone!I don't really have much to say apart from the fact that I didn't write this book alone.My best friend and actually my only friend helped me in writing this.From him, I learned how not to be encumbered by any tragedy and move on gracefully.He taught me how to live my life and made me believe in friendships,fairy tales,paradise and most importantly happy endings.I won't be able to write this book without him and I will keep the promise that I made to him of me living life to the best.Atlast I just want to say that now he must have understood why I used to say that my life would never have a happy ending."

[elipheleh]

Music - Henry's Music Room, with special guest Bea

The only room that really feels like both Henry and Bea is a small parlor on the second floor converted into a music studio. The colors are richest here: hand-woven Turkish rugs in deep reds and violets, a tobacco-colored settee. Little poufs and tables of knickknacks spring up like mushrooms, and the walls are lined with Stratocasters and Flying Vs, violins, an assortment of harps, one stout cello propped up in the corner. -Chapter 8, Red White & Royal Blue

This post features youtube links, rather than the spotify links of the other posts, simply due to the nature of the music involved. As such, I've put the whole post under a read more to save space. I want to thank @zukoinmypocket for all her help and willingness to be a sounding board for a stranger!

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Link to the masterpost/contents page for the music posts

Link to the masterpost/contents for the whole series

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In the center of the room is the grand piano, and Henry sits down at it and plucks away idly, toying with the melody of something that sounds like an old song by The Killers.

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Henry's classical music influences appear to be all - aside from the Killers! - within the Romantic era of music. The Romantic period in Europe was at its peak from 1800-1850, but dates throughout the 1800s. The former era was known as the Classical period and is commonly associated with the composers Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert.

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So he just listens and nods and smiles a little while Henry explains that this is what Brahms sounds like,--

Husband and wife duo, Lang Lang and Gina Alice Redlinger, play Brahms' Hungarian Dance No. 5.

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--and this is Wagner, and how they were on the two opposing sides of the Romantic movement. “Do you hear the difference there?”

R Wagner-C. Marín: Concert Paraphrase of "The Ride of Valkyries". Carles Marín, piano.

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His hands are fast, almost effortless, even as he goes off into a tangent about the War of the Romantics--

The War of the Romantics is a term used to describe the schism that emerged in Germany between two groups of Romantic composers, in the latter 1800s. The split - 'war' - was between those who defended the classical tradition - the absolute group which included people like Brahms - and those who were progressive - the program music group with Liszt and Wagner, among others.

Program music was descriptive, inspired by things like literature, or other non-musical inspiration, whilst absolute music's meaning was solely the notes on the page - inspired by nothing outside the music itself.

Liszt's piece linked below is a good example of program music, being connected to the poem "O lieb, so lang du lieben kannst!", as is Scriabin's piece Henry references.

Both forms added to classical music, program music - like Wagner - created new genres within the form, and absolute music - like Brahms - made old styles of music align with contemporary styles.

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--and how Liszt’s daughter left her husband for Wagner, quel scandale.

Liszt's daughter - Cosmina - actually had three children with Wagner whilst still married to her first husband.

Liszt's Liebestraum No. 3 - this piece is based a lovely poem, "O lieb, so lang du lieben kannst!" ("Oh dear, as long as you can love!")

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He switches to an Alexander Scriabin sonata, winking over at Alex at the composer’s first name. The andante—the third movement—is his favorite, he explains, because he read once that it was written to evoke the image of a castle in ruins, which he found darkly funny at the time. He goes quiet, focused, lost in the piece for long minutes.

Alexander Scriabin's Sonata no. 3, Andante

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There's something very interesting - and very in keeping with Henry's characterisation - that he was written as being interested most by Romantic era music. Not only are many Romantic pieces tied to literature and art - and we see Henry's love for both displayed in the book - but the Romantic period involved the rebellion against traditionalist expectations, and emphasised passion over reason. We can see this tying into Henry's storyline - he is, by his reluctance to willingly closet himself for the 'image' of the monarchy, rebelling against the traditionalist norms and expectations that surround his life as a prince of England. It's his passion, his love for Alex which leads him to stand up to his grandmother - the Queen, analgous to the Classical era's traditionalism - and refuse to back down over his desire not to lie about the emails and photographs which outed him.

The Romantic era, in many ways, worked to break the rigid standards that previous composers had been aligned with in the Classical Era and before. This makes an interesting analogy with Henry's interest in Romantic music - especially with the reference to Scriabin's imagery of a castle in ruins. Throughout Red White & Royal Blue, Henry is looking for ways to subvert the rigid expectations that come with being a prince. Multiple times in the book, Henry chooses to do the opposite of what he 'should' do, often when he is frustrated with his family. For example, in Chapter 8, after Phillip has been questioning Henry about his actions & suggests Henry should try to align his friendships more with those 'fitting' for a member of the royal family, Henry says to Alex: "I want to do the absolute last thing I'm supposed to be doing right now."

Henry's characterisation fits in with his appreciation for Romantic era music, in ways that aren't apparent at first glance. Henry & Alex's (happy) ending - breaking the rigid standards the Queen attempts to enforce on Henry as well as challenging the traditionalist expectations - parallels both common themes in Romantic music and the evolution of how the composers rejected traditional styles and created their own.

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“You know, Bea has only ever wanted to play music,” he starts. “Mum and Dad played too much Joni Mitchell for her growing up, I think. -Chapter 7

Sources/Additional Reading: Wikipedia - War of the Romantics ClassicFM - The War of the Romantics BBC iWonder - Dr. Caroline Rae discusses the ‘War of the Romantics’ Art And Popular Culture - War of the Romantics ClassicFM - What was the War of the Romantics? Russell Ger Composer - War of the Romantics Wikipedia - Romanticism Encyclopedia.com - The Challenge of Romanticism: Literature and Music Willan Academy - A Quick Summary of Romantic Music OpenALG - Music & The Human Experience, Chapter 11 Connolly Music - The Romantic Period of Music