Bismark
Elsen(Off) x Player - Elsen(Off) x Reader (Heyo, this is my first time sharing fan fiction, I am nervous to share and I wasn't planning on sharing it... but I saw that the Elsen Yume shipper's don't have a lot of fiction to read on here. So I'll share what I have and I hope you like it. uvu` ) I am also sharing this little music track I made recently, I was listening to it a lot while I was writing, warning it is a little loud, turn your volume down to a third! skdflsf )
Chapter 1: Broken Routine
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The rain fell from the heavens in a steady downpour, the hush filling the library with a constant drumming beat. Droplets raced down the windows in rivulets, their paths crisscrossing down the glass. The library was silent, an all encompassing silence that seemed eager to swallow any other sound. It's pale patrons understood how important the quiet was to this space. There was an uncomfortableness that permeated the air from those who skulked around the shelves. They did not walk, but instead tread with the quietest of steps. Books sliding from shelves were met with subtle winces, pages flipped with trembling care. If not for the rain, the only thing that would have been heard would be soft rasping breathes and the shuffling of paper.
You were like the others, but not. The quiet space that seemed to hold it's breath did not frighten you. You moved without the same fear of making noise, and where met with nervous glances.
You weren't able to move silently in any case, a trolley by your side was laden with books to be reshelved. The wheels creaked, and the metal cart would boom like thunder if it bumped into anything on it's path. Reshelving the books was important to any library, the books would come and go like the blood flowing around a body. As important as it was. You could also tell there was a visible waver of relieve, when you finished a cart and turned to the stairs that took you up and down the floors. There were no elevators, the library was older than the electricity that used them. However, you also believed that it's rumbling noise would have upset the patrons, and therefore one had never been installed. It was a sprawling work of art, yet a masterpiece that left it's visitors uneasy. It was the thought you always pondered going up and down those long stairs. If a place had such an air, why did they come and linger? Was it a subconscious choice? One that repelled as much as enticed, did they realize they had a choice? They must know, surely.
The higher one climbed up the labyrinth of knowledge, the quieter and less occupied the floors became. With the many stairs that had to be traversed, and the guests whose anxiety permeated the spaces they occupied, the top floor become a solace of yours. No eyes to watch you, no trembling sensibilities to upset with your presence, your taking up of space. The marble handrail slides up against your ascending palm, smooth and cold.
"At least this job keeps me as fit as a fiddle." The laugh that expels from your lungs resonates in the air. Even whisper quiet, it seems to fill the stairwell. Shaking your head you continue your dialog, quieter than before. "Maybe I should have gotten a job over at the shopping mall instead. It seems busy but, at least I wouldn't have to worry about how loud of was being."
You breath a sigh of relief as you reach the top floor. "Hello my favorite section of the library~" You sing song breathlessly, "How are you today~?"
You startle as there is a sharp inhale of breathe, "Hh... Hello?" Words being choked out through tight lungs. You freeze in place, looking for the voice, "Hello?" You echo back, feeling a shiver of anxiety up your spine. Someone was here, someone was here. You pray you wouldn't get in trouble for speaking so loudly. You suck in a sharp breath before you continue choosing to speak to the patron with a friendly tone, hoping they'd look past the volume, "How are you today?" You walk carefully forward, peeking around, looking for them.
"Hh... not... not well." The voice admits. You find the source of the voice, one of the patrons sits on the floor, their clutching their throat and breathing ragged. Their chest heaving with tight anxiety "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm being l-l-loud..." They shudder in a shallow breathe and begin to rock back and forth. You're eyebrows knit together and you join them on the floor. " You don't have to apologize, you're just fine. What's going on? Are you okay?" Your eyes dart back and forth, the being clutches at their throat, eyes wide and panicked
"Hey... can you Breathe with me?" You offer and without being prompting you start to make slow careful breathes, "In for 1... 2... 3...4...5..." you pull in a long breath counting the number slowly on your fingers. "And hold it for 1... 2... 3... 4... 5..." You breath slowly out and count, "Out for 1... 2... 3...4...5..." They look at you wide eyed, but their panicked breathe has become a faint wheeze. Feeling emboldened, you keep the pattern going "In for 1... 2... 3...4... 5..." You suck in another breath, pleased when you hear there voice rattle on an inhale. Hearing the faintest "1... 2... 3..." echoed back to you. You stop talking then, letting your fingers keep the count between the both of you. Steady careful counted breathes, stopping only when their posture is relaxed. Their hands resting in their lap. You breathe out one last long breath and smile gently.
"... How's that? Are you feeling better?"
The patron looks down, one hands thumb brushing over the other, back and forth, back and forth. "Yes..." They glance at you before their vision darts away again. "How... hhh... how did you know that would help?"
Your smile turns sad, "I... ah, well. Let's just say I have dealt with my fair share of panic attacks. I'm... I'm guessing that 's what you were struggling with. It makes you feel like you can't get enough air into your lungs."
They nod, staring at the floor. "..."
"... Would you, like some tea?" You offer.
Their head ducks up, "In... hn... in the library?"
You scoff playfully and stand, dusting off your knees. "Hah, of course. We're not going to drink it on top of the books, it'll be perfectly fine." You glance down at them to see them blinking at you in wonder. "Tell you what, you stay here, and I'll get us some. Just relax, everything is okay, you're alright, I promise." With those words, you turn to the back and begin to walk. You have a small wooden table set up in a secluded corner. On top is an electric kettled, some mugs and boxes of tea. You sift through the boxes, reading the labels, White Peony, Rooibos, Vanilla Macaron, Darjeeling, and aha here it is, Chamomile. The kettle is switched on, while the water heats, two mugs are gathered. Honey is poured into the bottoms, the tea bags set alongside, and spoons that garnish the sides of each mug. Their is a click when the water is ready and the kettle turns OFF. Steam rises up in ghostly plumes as the hot water settles into the mugs. The spoons clinking like chimes as the honey melts into the mixture.
You carry both mugs back and notice the guest is up and standing, watching you curiously.
"I didn't know the library served tea..." They murmur.
"Well I do," You say cheerily, "You found my secret hideout. Here, one cup of Shamamale."
"Hhh?"
"It's Chamomile," You say warmly, "Good for the nerves, careful, it's a little hot." They take the cup between their hands, inhaling the steam. The faintest of smiles turning the corners of their mouth.
"It smells... lovely."
"There aren't many who go to these higher floors. Where you looking for something I could help you find?"
Their expression turns guilty and their eyes fall to staring at their tea, gripping the mug tighter. "I... I... was looking for somewhere to be alone with my... hhh... thoughts."
You smile encouragingly and nod. "I do that when I feel overwhelmed too."
"But-but I am glad I got to meet you, you are kind." They add quickly, rotating the mug in their hands.
"Well hey, you're free to stay here as long as you need." You pull a watch from your pocket and frown. "I'll have to get back to work soon, will you be alright?"
They nod and give another pale smile. "Yes, yes, quite alright... Thank... you..."
Leaving your tea behind on the small table you begrudging trudge down the stairs. A part of you mourning the break that was missed, sore feet wistful for rest. Yet, another part of you is simply glad that you had been there at the right time. Back on the main floor you load canvas bags with books, and huff as you tromp back up the stairs with the heavy haul. "For folks that... act like they're scared to read, someone sure is reading a lot." You sigh with relief as you reach the designated floor, the heavy bags slumping against the waiting metal cart. You decide to roll it over to a chair and sit a spell while your organize the books. The steady slide of the books only interrupted when the stack you were organizing falls onto it's side and causes the cart to bang loudly. You scrunch your shoulders up and wrinkle your nose, feeling the wide eyed stare of the patrons in the room. You grumble as you fight to straighten the books then proceed to catalog until a two straight rows fill the top of your cart. "You wouldn't think this would be so anxiety inducing," You murmur in amusement.
The day proceeds along in the same manner, trying to keep quiet, but the cart trundles along on it's own agenda, blissfully unaware of how noisy it is. By the time your shift is over you are almost to the bottom floor when you realize you haven't cleaned up the tea table. You tilt your head back and groan, sore soles complaining just as loudly. You debate on marching back up all the flights of stairs but your exhaustion wins out. Tomorrow, you promise yourself. Tomorrow you will contend to the mess.
As you march past the circulation desk to escape out the front, one of the circulation workers waves you over.
"Someone wished to thank you for your help." They whisper, "Good work today."
Your face brightens and you beam, giving them a silent wave as you exit out the building which leads to, of course, more stairs. You hold out a hand feeling the tiniest pings of rain touch your palm. The rain from earlier has subsided into the softest of drizzle.
---
Chapter 2: It's Raining Again Today
Rain forms rivulets that rush down the windows and the purr of thunder roils overhead. You watch the window and the world outside misting with a sheen of rain. Sitting curled up in blankets and resisting to get out of bed until the very last moment. The clock on the wall ever proceeding forward in time, the gentle morning is forgotten in as the usual routine takes your attention. Get up, eat food, prepare for work, double check supplies, leave. With an umbrella tucked under your arm you exit the quiet confines of your house and take a leisurely walk through the residential area. Blocky homes stacked up in odd places, with some figures speaking to one another in soft tones. You hum to yourself and open your umbrella, heading towards the large building that looms overhead.
Once you begin to climb the stairs you check the time on your watch, and fish out a set of keys from your pocket. There is already a small group waiting outside, and one of them seems particularly interested in catching your eye. They move to wave before pausing and looking at the others. Fingers curling with anxiety, "It's you again, hello."
"Oh hey," You smile warmly, "How are you are doing today?"
They look down and nod, their hands clasped thumb carefully rubbing over the knuckles on their right hand. "Better... much better. I have... a, mm... question, if you'd allow."
"Okay, go for it,"
They do a double take before sucking in a deep breathe, "You're not like us." They say apologetically. "Forgive me, but what are you?"
You're lips part, but no words come. Lips press back together firmly and you shake your head, "I don't know." You admit, "I..." Your frown deepens, "I can't remember. Sometimes it feels like there should be something I should be doing... or somewhere I should go, but everything's a little hazy."
Their breath rattles beside you, "You don't... remember who you are? Where you came from?"
No other had dared to ask such a bold question in all the time you've been residing here, but you get the feeling that the small group is now listening eagerly for the answer. It makes you nervous, you chew on your lip, pondering it for a moment before your head starts shaking and you lift your shoulders in defeat. "I don't. I haven't remembered much in a long time. This, all of this," You gesture at the world around you, "This has just became my new normal. I vaguely remembering working at another library before this one, but..." You trail off, the thoughts like a stream of water through your fingers. The more you tried to grasp onto memories, the more they eluded you. It must not have been important. "I don't know," You finally say, hesitancy thick in your voice. "I just don't know."
They clear their throat, and try to look consoling, but a wrinkle of concern is etched deeply across their brow. "That's alright. You're here now, and we are happy to have you."
You smile distractedly and nod, the feeling of deja vu tickling the back of your skull. Pushing odd the thoughts away, you fiddle with pressing the key into the doors lock. One hand firmly pushes the door open. "In any case," You say, putting a polish of cheeriness onto your voice, "Good morning, welcome back to the Bismark Library," You hold the door open and welcome in those who have been lingering on the porch out of the rain. However, your new friend hovers at the threshold, watching you for a time with an unreadable expression. The two of you stand awkwardly appraising one another, the last two on the porch. Until they finally duck their head in submission, and disappear inside.
You draw out a lengthy sigh, and the worries you had been feeling recede back into the recesses of the fog within your mind. Now isn't the time to ponder them in any case, your mind compiles a neat list of morning chores, and off you go. Back inside the library, back to moving books up and down the floors and listening to rain. You find a single book to be brought up to the highest floor and your heart soars, you can take the journey there and then take a much wanted break. With a newfound bounce to your step you begin the long climb.
Upon arriving upstairs, you are surprised to find the same patron, sitting and reading.
"Oh, hello again!" You say,
"Hello," They take a breath before fumbling through words, "Hhh can I... nnn... would it be alright if... I promise I will be quiet and stay out of your way." They cringe awkwardly before they look at you with pleading eyes.
You tilt your head in confusion. "Huh?" They twitter with anxious laughter and gesture around the room. "This floor, may I... hhh... may I stay here and read? I... I... I like it here."
You keep your head tilted in utter confusion. "... Of course? All library floors are welcome to be used. You can stay here as long as the library is open."
A smile wobbles across their face and they nod eagerly.
What an odd duck, why ask me for permission?
You move around the table to continue your work. Glancing at them from the corner of your eye, while replacing a book on the shelf. Then again, how odd is it that this floor isn't really occupied like the others? Some of the books get taken out from this floor on occasion. However even they don't cycle nearly as frequently as the rest of the libraries collection. It's odd. The more I think about it, the more I think this whole library is just odd.
You stop to tidy the tea table and pause, your cup is clean and washed. There is a new box of tea sitting on the counter next to a dark blue stoneware mug you've never seen before. The tea box has a little red ribbon carefully tied around it, a bow at the top. "Blueberry Hibiscus." You read the label before glancing back to figure reading at the table. They catch your eye but quickly they avert their gaze propping their book in front of their face as their pallid skin begins to turn a faint pink.
"... Thank you for the tea!" You call over to them but they ignore you, keeping their face hidden behind the book in their hands.
You laugh faintly, then place the mug beside the two others, and decide to get the kettle going to have tea on your break. You prepare a cup, decide to pull the ribbon from the new box and open up the single drawer underneath the tabletop and grab some snacks. While the kettle hums you peruse the aisles in a mild stride, looking for a section you haven't sat in before. As the kettle clicks off, you return to a spot next to a tall window. Sitting at the window seat to drink tea and eat. Eat, throw away empty packages, clean. You put a bit of hot water into the bottom of the cup, then use a clothe to clean the bottom and lip. You look up to study your companion, still sitting with their face hidden.
"Thank you for the tea, it was very good."
Still they don't respond, the book resting very pointedly in front of their face. You walk over to the table they are sitting at, lean forward to see them. Their eyes finally glance up at you, peering around the tome you smile at them. The ghost of a returning one twitches across their face. "You're... you're welcome." They mumble before going back to reading, or... hiding.
You shrug internally, not sure how to make heads or tails of their behavior. Having the companionship is a rare treat, though, so you decide not to analyze it too much. You pause at the stairwell and hesitate.
"I'll...See you later?" Not quite a statement, not quite a question. You leave the upper floor with some renewed cheer, but you get the impression of eyes watching you descend the stairs.
I have never felt this tender swelling ache beneath my skin before. You've speared my heart and it flutters with something new. I should try to stitch it back together, but I don't want to. I want the softness you offer, I want sanctuary. Who are you? What have you done to me?
Time ticks by, a slow iv drip, drip drop, drip drop. Words on the page begin to float up from the paper. No more reading for today. Can't focus. Standing feels foreign, and the body stretches to remember it's muscles. Shaking fingers carefully gloss over the name on the spine of the book. Those same searching fingers touch the spines of the books on the shelf in a slow methodical brush. Finger tips feeling the tiniest of valleys between the tomes. The empty spot is found and the book is replaced.
The room doesn't feel as accommodating as it once did. They hurry to exit the room, and head for the stairs. They hear the wakeful boom of the metal cart, and the uneasy whispers of the guests on that floor, frightened like rabbits at the noise. They feet move a little faster, less inclined about being louder now that such a loud sound rings like a bell. They see the staff member who had wholeheartedly gotten their attention. Their expression set with determination, as they wheel the cart past. A mouth opens to form words, call out, but hesitation quells the sound.
They don't see me, they don't know I'm here. Looking from one patron to another, the why becomes clear. Everyone is identical, except the person who moves the cart. That's why they stand out so abrasively, why others pause to watch them go. If no attempt to wave or to be friendly is made, they won't know ever know who is who. They won't know who I am. The thought bothers them, an itch that newly manifested wanting to be scratched. This is troublesome, what can be done? Same face, same clothes, same tie... perhaps a different tie. Fingers pick at the fabric uneasily, "But black is traditional..." It sounds like a whine, and they gasp at the tone, covering their mouth with their hands. Fingers trembling, beginning to feel fretful they breath deeply, counting like they were shown. They can recall the fingers going up. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... Breathe in, hold, breathe out, head's clearer. They run their hands down their face and look around, but the library staff member and their awful cart is gone. Should they try to find the staff member and say goodbye? No... no they are working, better not disrupt them. An idea comes to them and the barest hint of a smile flickers across their face. Perhaps they can find something to add to their daily ensemble to make themselves more visible. With a twine of hope they leave the library, and begin to search for something to help them achieve their goal.
You are on your knees filling books on a bottom shelf when you see one of the library occupants approaching, a smile on their face. It takes you aback because truly, you've never seen one of them smile before. Not a full smile like this. They fidget with a little pin on the lapel of their shirt, and sigh in delight. They rock back and forth on their heels.
"Can I... help you?"
"It's me, now you can... know... uhm know... it's me..." A beat of silence follows and their posture begins to sag, their face falling. Realization clicks for you and your mouth opens.
"Ohh! It's is, it's you!"
They slowly stop wilting and brighten again, lacing their hands behind their back and go back to rocking.
"That's really clever," You pause before inwardly wincing, telling the patrons apart was difficult. It was different when everyone kept to themselves, but this one in particular was suddenly eager to be friends. You squint at the little silver pin they wear, committing it to memory. It's a small silver duck, a bit hard to see, but you don't have the heart to mention it, they are positively beaming. From everything you have seen about the folks you share a home with. This is wildly different than what you are used to. You're used to existing with quiet, overly polite, and very timid individuals. You can't image what changed, but you embrace it with open arms.
"It's a very cute pin, it looks good on you"
Then they turn positively pink and hide their face with their hands. "Oh... I... Oh... It hhhhh.. it must have sounded like I was bragging. For... forgive me!" Their head jerks looking for an exit, sweating profusely and tugging at their collar. Their expression shifting back and forth from looking terribly pleased, to looking positively horrified "I... I mm... must be late for work... good... good day..." Without warning they charge out of room, your eyes popping open in surprise. You've also never seen any of them move that fast before...
... What... just happened?
You blink once, twice, thrice. You look up to see equally shocked faces looking back at you. You feel your own cheeks begin to feel uncomfortably warm and you creakily get to your feet. Maybe they had the right idea, you'll work on a different floor for a bit, and come back to these books later...
Chapter 3: Day off at Work
You see the same patron yet again lingering at the door to the library today. Their eager open eyed expression reminds you of a hopeful puppy. After yesterday you weren't sure if they would be back at all, they had practically full tilt ran away from you.
"Good morning," You say,
"Good morning," they open their mouth to well, you are guessing they are going to apologize yet again. However you beat them to speaking first.
"I'm not working today,"
Their shoulders droop and they slouch. "O... Oh..."
"But I did... bring some things to do... If you'd like to join me." You aren't sure why you offered, but the glimmer in their eyes makes you smile shyly.
"What... what is it?"
"Coloring supplies," You supplant holding up a bag filled with assorted items, "Working on coloring pages is supposed to be relaxing, I was going to do it at home but..." You think about what to tack onto that sentence. I didn't want to be alone. You shrug your shoulders, "It's more fun with a friend."
They point at themselves, opening and closing their mouth wordlessly. You are about to ask if they are alright when they swallow hard and finally speak, "I'm... a... uhm... friend?"
"We have been hanging out a lot lately." You smile, and they nod eagerly. You continue, "If you're up for trying something new, I'd be happy to share what I have."
With your new odd friend in tow you go inside, waving at the circulation desk workers. They glance at you and nod, met with the same quiet acknowledgement as every other day. The two of you walk in silence, when you begin to flag around the middle floor you stop to catch your breathe. They hold out a hand for your bag and frown. "I can... help carry things..."
"Oh it's okay," you laugh, "You'd think I'd handle these steps better since I walk them every almost day but whew! They are still pretty invigorating. Their hand doesn't move, as you look at the outstretched fingers you entertain the idea of giving them a hi-five instead. Wait, no, you haven't known them very long yet ,and they are still timid. You didn't want to scare them off by evolving into your silliest self just yet. You battle between letting them help, and not wanting to burden them. You hesitantly slide your bag off your shoulder and they take the bag with a little smile. The top of the stairs make you sigh with relief, they set the bag onto the table and look to you for further instructions.
"I'll get set up if you would like to make us some tea?"
Another smile and they nod eagerly as they move towards the tea corner. While the kettle whirrs you work on pulling out the supplies from your bag. A folder filled with loose leaf ink drawings copied from books, and a large tin of pencils that you pop the lid off of.
Coming back with tea, they hover around the table, at first they are looking pleased but then a nervous expression crosses their face.
"What?"
"The... hhh... the pencils..."
You look down then back at them. "...What about them?"
"They... they look so sharp? Sss... someone could get hurt."
"Are you planning on stabbing yourself?" You tease,
They look stricken, "N...n... HhhNnnnno?"
You nod with feigned sageness, "Okay, you're good then."
Their forehead creases and they pick up one of the pencils and eye the sharp tip. With such a grim expression you couldn't help it, you laugh at them. They perk up and look at you with eyes wide.
"You're... you're not hhh, taking this very seriously," They huff.
"Ooooh, do I detect some sassiness?" You joke, cupping a hand to your ear. They choose to stay quiet and huff again in response, looking through the papers you laid out on the table. Pulling out a line drawing of a plant before hesitantly putting pencil to paper. The crinkled lines on their face smoothing out as they get absorbed by adding delicate purple lines to the page. You watch them for a moment, your mouth curled to the side in an amused smile. Taking out another page you begin to add soft layers of shading. The room is quiet except for the scratching of pencil on paper, yet it's a comfortable companionable space. Left to right, hands pass colors to one another. The intermitted grinding whirr of a pencil sharpener occasionally breaks the solitude. Hours feel like minutes, the passing of time lost as piece by piece the pages are filled with color. You stand up to stretch, looking over the messy desk and the two pictures laying side by side.
"Did you have fun?"
They break their concentration, looking up from putting the pencils away. carefully arranged by color. "It was... nice." They admit softly, then there eyes wander the room. "Spending time with you has been... umh... nice."
"I've noticed everyone mostly keeps to themselves." You murmur, "I've missed just sitting like this with someone. Hanging out."
"Would you... like to meet for this again?"
"... Yeah, you know what, that sounds nice, let's do this again sometime. I'll let you know when I have some time off." You pause and look at them, "And this may sound silly, but is there a nickname you'd like to go by?"
"Nick...name?" They have visible stars in their eyes as their mouth forms the words.
You laugh awkwardly, "Yeah... you know... a special name I could use that isn't just Elsen. If all of you are named Elsen... I can't really use your name to call you individually from a crowd, you know?"
You fear that you've broke them, they sit looking at you with that same wonder filled expression.
"H... hello...?" You wave their hand in front of their face, "Buddy? You okay?"
Their mouth begins to wobble, and they start pulling on their shirt collar, that same pleased / pained expression crossing their face. "I yes... I... would uhm, hmm... like to be bestowed with a special name."
You eyes squint slightly, well that was... a weird way to put that. "You don't have a nickname other's call you?"
And now they look like you've just kicked a puppy, "We'll, we'll," You stammer, "We'll figure something out, sometime it takes time to find a good name, and I want you to at least like it!" They still look like you've kicked a puppy and it's your turn to wheeze with some anxiety, "Mm.. maybe I'll just call you Ducky in the meantime? ... Since you have that cute duck pin..."
The kicked puppy expression fades and they look down, their fingers raising to gently touch the pin on their lapel. "Ducky..." They muse, "Ducky... because of the Pedalo pin I have..." A pensive expression is better than kicked puppy, so you take that as a small victory.
"Do you... have a uhm, nickname?" They murmur, still fixated on the pin, running a finger gently over the beak.
"I've had some," You admit, "At one of the my old jobs, a coworker used to call me Sunny." You pause trying to grip the rest of that slippery memory. "Hah, Sunny, I haven't thought of that in a long time. Who was it again, who called me... Sunny?" You close your eyes trying to remember, trying to feel for the edges of that past life. Barely there, and whispered away in an instant. You let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't remember that either, apparently."
"Sunny and Ducky," they muse.
You give them a begrudging smile, "Yeah, pretty cutesy names huh? I'm not the best at giving nicknames so..."
"Oh... I like them," Ducky says, still gently tracing the Pedalo pin. "I like them very much..."
