Currently having the most awkward roleplay with my sister. Her character is a scary-looking softy that has practically no people skills while mine is a scary-looking softy that has practically no people skills.
They were trying to understand each other, and my character suggested a hug. Neither of them know how to hug. Now my character is in a very awkward one-sided hug while her character is just sitting there with his arms open.
I can physically feel the awkwardness from my screen.
Mouth to mouth or cotton swab: it matters not, Eloise does not deal well with DNA samples.
Bibliotheca Alexandrina. Oh, Brett had been waiting so long for this day now. Even as a young boy, he had wanted to come to Alexandria and now, here he was, standing in front of the building that had been the object of his dreams for a long, long time. Most people would presume it was like any other library in the world, and on many levels it was, but the difference with the Alexandria library was the people who had been inside of it, studied there and learnt things that no one else had done before. He was stepping in the footprints of so many progressive thinkers, he could barely contain himself. He felt like he was going to explode with excitement as soon as he walked inside.
The other reason he really, really wanted to go to this library was the Rare Books section. Not many libraries could boast on having such a section, filled with books that had barely been touched and were worth more than all the technology the town of Ashkent Creek owned, no doubt. He could actually touch these books, feel the pages that had been written so many years ago, in languages he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into, metaphorically of course. He wanted to spend hours here, losing himself in a forest of words and stories and languages. He doubted Eloise was going to enjoy this all that much, but he was already feeling 100 times lighter.
He pushed open the door to the library, holding it open for Eloise to step through before he stepped back and let the atmosphere envelop him. Oh, he could practically taste the history in the walls. He couldn't think of a word to say as he looked down at row upon row of books.
There were definitely perks to da- travelling with a Scribe, as Eloise was keenly reminded when Brett was able to wave some kind of FBI-esque Scribe ID (no riddles, surprisingly enough) at the entrance and get them in after hours, nearly an hour after the library had already closed to the public. Far be it from her to think low of book lovers, but there was a selfish part of every tourist that wanted to have such a special, ancient place all to themselves, no matter how briefly, and no matter how many people felt the exact same way. And now, the library was hushed, the lights dim and soft and their steps echoing strangely as they walked across the floor, the sound dampened by shelves upon shelves of bound leather and plastic and paper. Beside her, Brett seemed to be thrumming, like she imagined the distant hum of nuclear fission inside a sun to sound like if one were close enough to hear it. Even at this late hour, they weren't alone - she could hear pages turning somewhere nearby, and the quiet, shuffling drag of a chair across padded floors, but the silence was nearly overwhelming, and Brett seemed to be caught in it like a very bookish fly between the pages of a book of liquid amber. Eloise started to say something, caught herself, and instead only smiled up at him and tugged at his sleeve, nodding her head in the direction of the 'rare books section' sign on the wall, an arrow pointing elegantly to another part of the library.
Brett felt like he was in his own, personal Heaven. Not only was he after hours in the greatest library in the world, so there were no other people rushing around or in his way, but he was there with Eloise too, sharing this special moment with his... God, he really needed to talk to Eloise about that at some point. Calling her his Elly, whilst he enjoyed it and it made sense, when he was referring to her, he didn't know what to call her. Could he continue calling her his Elly? Potentially. He looked down at Eloise as she tugged at his sleeve, letting his eyes follow her head movement to the sign. Oh, this was it. He reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly before dragging her into another part of the library.
As soon as they were in the Rare Books section, he felt his stomach tightening in the most delightful way. Like a child at Christmas. He pulled her quicker into the middle of the section, turning around as his eyes looked at the rows of books, some in glass cases, some on shelves. "Oh... look at them," he whispered.
Eloise let herself be tugged along, smothering her snickers as she held on to his hand, amused at how endearing his awe was, but quickly distracted by the contents of the shelves as well. Eloise had never considered herself a true 'bookworm' as such, had never fixated enough on the written word for that to feel like a proper label for herself. She had an appreciation for stories that was deep and passionate, but whether they were presented in the form of a book, a keenly-crafted film, or a story told in hushed whispers around a campfire mattered little to her. It wasn't until she'd come to Ashkent Creek, where books held knowledge of a kind she'd never seen before, unequalled by documentaries or a determined internet search, that she'd found herself growing spellbound by them - and maybe Brett's influence had helped too, more than just a little. But even aside from all that, it was difficult not to succumb to the awe that came instinctually when you were surrounded by so much concentrated knowledge in one place, remnants of thoughts thought by countless minds so many years ago, so many of them gone without a trace save for the stories they'd left behind.
She pulled free of his hand to approach the side of a long row of bookshelf, inspecting the index on it until she found a label she could read. "Eighteenth century travelling accounts," she whispered, stepping further along that shelf. Her fingers were itching to reach up and run along the spines, but she suppressed the impulse, peering at a title at random. "'Narrative of the Surveying Voyages of His Majesty’s Ships Adventure and Beagle, 1839'. Wow," she read out in awe, and threw a sideways glance at Brett. "Are you sure you're allowed to touch them? It does say no handling except by library personnel..."
Brett let her pull free of his hand, moving over to some of the books in glass. A lot were written in old languages, Arabic, Egyptian, Greek. So many that he could see, encased in protective glass to stop anything happening to these old pages. Oh, books that were written hurriedly, with extreme care, with old logic and new logic. So many books that he could sit and read, touch with his hands and handle like a newborn baby. That's what these books were. Children of old, old generations, the babies of great minds and thinkers.
"Yes, but I'm a Scribe so I class as library personnel on a whole new level," he murmured, eyeing up a very old poetry book. Egyptian too. The spine itself was beautiful, he couldn't wait to open the pages. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of gloves.
Eloise stopped where she was lightly running her hand on the wood of the shelves, just inches from the books, and wandered over to him. "That's lucky," she murmured, watching over his shoulder like someone peering in on an artist busy with their work, or perhaps a surgeon. Certainly the gloves set a certain mood, even if they looked to be cotton rather than rubber. "Do all the big libraries have a secret association with the Scribes, or just the ones connected to a Scribe Chapter?" She peered at the book he was eyeing in a way that might have almost made her jealous, not that she could even understand the title. Arabic, maybe? "What's that?"
Brett slipped the gloves on over his hands, moving to the table and laying a cloth down on the wood. "No, it varies I believe. This one is connected to a Scribe chapter so I do get some privileges, but I doubt I could do this everywhere," Brett explained, moving back to the book he had been looking at and picking it up gently. He carried it cautiously to the cloth, laying it down and sitting at the chair. "It's an old, Egyptian poetry book, written in Arabic of course, but the detail of the cover is all Egyptian."
Eloise slipped into the seat next to him, smiling as she leaned in to watch. He still hadn't opened it, like he was saving it for later, taking his time to savour every bit of the experience. It occurred to her the wouldn't be coming back to the hotel anytime in the next few hours, and she was okay with that. They were both too jetlagged to sleep on time, anyway. "Alright," she said with a smile, watching his face as much as the book, her voice firmer now as she grew more comfortable. "So why this one? Out of all the other books you could have picked, why this?"
Brett ran his fingers along the cover of the book, smiling to himself as he read the cover. "Because this is poetry and you're here. You remind me of poetry," Brett told her, slowly opening the to the first page. He could smell the old dust within the pages, bound together in ways that didn't even exist anymore. "I plan to read many, but... I'm here with you and this one speaks out to me. Egyptian poetry."
If Eloise had been settling into the atmosphere of the place a moment ago, slowly growing comfortable, then her composure was gone now, left flushing and lost for words as she carefully stared at the book. Damn it, how did he always manage to do that? "...I see," she said, trying to sound natural, and cleared her throat before restlessly pushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Do you, um... do you have a spare pair of those?' she asked, gesturing at his gloves. "Maybe I could- maybe I could find something to look at too, don't you think? If you... pulled it off the shelf for me, just to be on the safe side..."
Brett nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out another pair of clothes. He handed them to her, giving her a smile. "You show me which book you would like to read and I will get it off of the shelf for you."
Eloise beamed back at him a little sheepishly. "Bless you, so well-prepared. Alright, I'll let you know when I find it." She stumbled out of her seat a little too huriedly, nearly lost her balance, steadied herself awkwardly on thet able and gave him a stiff laugh, then disappeared behind a shelf. God, this was embarrassing, and she was suddenly keenly aware that they were completely alone in this section of the library. She grumbled at herself for still letting him fluster her like that with a few sappy words, and turned to the shelves, searching for a category that caught her interest. Since language was her main limitation, she let that guide her, eventually homing in on a section in Latin that she hoped she'd be able to tackle (at least with the help of the pocket dictionary she carried around).
Brett stood up a lot more stably, following along with her so that she could choose a book that she liked. There was something almost magical about being in a place like this all alone. Romantic, certainly. It was just them and books and this heavy, settling feeling of being surrounded by knowledge. He doubted Eloise felt the same but this was his idea of a great date. He followed her to the Latin section, smiling fondly as he waited.
Eloise had only begun to relax when she realised Brett was right behind her, from from still leaning over his own book as she'd expected him to. She glanced at him sheepishly, then gave him a smile. Despite her still not being entirely sure how to act with him sometimes, this was exciting. It was terribly exciting, really. She'd wanted from the start to sneak into a library like this after hours, and even if his unexpected perk as a Scribe had removed the need to do it illegally, it still gave her a rush of adrenaline, knowing she wasn't technically supposed to be here. She tried not to feel his eyes on the back of her neck as she stood on her tiptoes to peer at a book that had caught her eye, tapping at her lips as she tried to decipher the title. A scholarly account of a 17th century tomb exploration and the legend surrounding it, if she wasn't entirely mistaken. "That one."
Brett admired the way she had tried to translate the books herself, clearly working her way to a book that she would enjoy. She had come on well since their first lesson, though he supposed it helped that he lived with her too. He reached over and carefully pulled the book off of the shelf, holding it gently in his hands just like a baby. "Completely sure you want this one?" Brett asked, eyes bright and excited.
Eloise shrugged, finding herself at ease again. It was hard to stay nervous for long, when Brett's eyes were twinkling the way they were. This - this is what he was supposed to be like, not the hollow, dried out husk of a man he'd been for far too long, in the wake of his mother's death. What did it say about him, that she'd found herself liking him so much even then, and what kind of disaster did it spell for her now, when it was now, if anything, even harder not to let him affect her? "No," Eloise said, smiling as she shook her head. "But it's not like anyone's coming to kick ous out, right? I've got time to change my mind any number of times."
Brett nodded. "Exactly. You can change your mind as many times as you like and I'll get the book for you," Brett assured her, leading her back to the table and placing her book next to his on the cloth. "Now, you have to be extremely careful with the pages as they could be very loose. Turn the pages like you are handling the most delicate thing in the world."
Eloise sank into the seat carefully, her face already lighting up with excitement. "So, like, baby bird made of glass, that sort of thing? I think I can manage that. Probably." She carefully pulled on the gloves he had given her, though it took taking off her splint first, and reverently reached for the cover to flip the first page. She skimmed the notes at the beginning. As she started to read what looked like the introduction, her brow scrunched up in concentration, and her hand twitched toward the bag her dictionary was in. Maybe she could manage without it for a short while, though. Curious, she flipped another page. "That tomb - it sounds familiar," she said after a while, pointing at a name in the text while absently revelling in the smell wafting off the pages. "Isn't that the one that's near here, the one you wanted to visit on one of the next days?"
Brett let her get settled into her own book before he started reading his. He traced each word with his fingers, absorbed in each page. The poetry was beautifully written, though he could see the spelling mistakes within it. It was amazing to see poetry written be normal people taken and enveloped in a place filled with important thoughts. He heard Eloise speaking and took a moment before he looked up. "Hm?" He looked down at where she was pointing. "Yes, it is. The Mound of Shards. Kom el Shoqafa,"
Eloise tried to pretend that hearing him switch to an entirely different language and pronunciation mid-sentence didn't sound amazing, but wasn't quite successful at hiding the awe-dazed look on her face. She blinked heavily. "Right- well, I think this is some kind of exploration record of it. Look." She turned back to the book and read carefully aloud from a passage that mentioned a an extensive hallway in the east section of the catacombs and the secret passageway architecture suggested had to be there but that nobody had been able to find, guarded by.... a flock of wild ducks, which she strongly suggested to be a translation error on her part. She turned back to Brett, eyes sparkling. "Isn't it exciting? We could try photocopying some of it and seeing if we can retrace their footsteps when we go there!"
Brett was aware of the look on her face, one he had seen quite a few times when he spoke in a different language. What was it for? What was the expression on her face? More importantly, how could he keep it there? She looked so open when she gave him that look, no shields up, no mask to hide behind. He liked that best. He peered over her shoulder, reading the words with a practiced ease that came with years of learning and reading Latin. "We are definitely going to try and do that!" Brett agreed, wrapping an arm around her and hugging her briefly. "It's going to be fun."
Eloise stiffened in surprise, throwing a glance over his shoulder before she remembered that public place or no, there wasn't anyone near to bother them. The unexpected hug should have felt awkward, but after a moment, she relaxed again, a small smile she couldn't smother teasing at her expression and a fluttery warmth in her chest. "I hope so too," she said softly when he pulled away, pushing her hair out of her face absently with a small, hopeful smile as she watched his face. "I kind of doubt we'll find anything the previous thousand people to set foot there didn't, but I want to go there anyway. Just tell me one thing, though," her voice turned sheepish and she gestured at the part of the passage that she'd had particular trouble deciphering, "It doesn't really say 'flock of mallards' there, does it?"
Brett moved his arm to run over the passage, smiling for a moment. Flock of mallards? It was certainly possible that this was what guarded the tomb, but he highly doubted it. He shook his head when he found the word. "One of the tombs was guarded by statues of snakes. I highly doubt an old, Egyptian tomb would be guarded by ducks, but it is certainly possible. Maybe cats, more than likely..."
Eloise blushed in embarrassment, glancing at the word again. It wasn't a snake synonym she recognised - why had she even thought it looked similar to the word for duck? "I guess we'll find out," she said lightly, carefully turning a page again. "Maybe we should bring some duck repellent, just in case," she joked, turning to grin up at him.
Brett chuckled, grinning back at her. "We can certainly do that. What would repel a duck?" Brett asked her, moving his eyes back to his own book and losing himself in poetry again. Maybe there were some books on Greek mythology in here. Maybe something on Hercules. It wouldn't hurt to have a look at something to help back home.
The hours ticked by, book after book being read on topics from all sorts of different things. Greek mythology, soup books, old fables, all in languages of different kinds, though most were in Arabic so helping Eloise choose books seemed a lot more difficult when she couldn't read Arabic. He was absorbed in his current book, reading about Hercules, when he decided to glance at his watch. It was certainly late now, getting on to eleven at night. He gently closed the book, turning his head to watch Eloise read. How far life had come since he had met her. Not all of it good, but his life had taken on a new road that he was more than happy to walk.
"Elly..." he began, voice sounding louder than he anticipated in the empty room. It seemed to echo off of the bookcases as he spoke. Maybe whispering might be a better idea but even that might be louder than anticipated in this place. He cleared his throat, dropping his voice. "Elly... thank you for coming here with me..."
Eloise had found it easier than expected to let herself slip under in the murky silence of the room. As the night advanced, even those few other visitors they'd been able to hear in the other rooms had piped down or disappeared altogether. Between her struggle to understand much of what she was reading, and the jetlag she was still fighting, she found her perception to be a sort of haze of alertness... but there was no denying the seductive call of the pages, or the knowledge held within them. Expeditions, beer recipes, laundry lists of guest invitations, first editions of books she could all too keenly imagine being touched by people each and every person knew from school and textbooks.. things that were utterly trivial as often as of great magnitude, but no less breathtaking for it. Her current trophy was a glorified book on Egyptian boogymen legends that she was having trouble pulling herself away from, despite her quickly dashed hopes of recognising something of herself within the pages.
When Brett addressed her, it was a surprise - not because he was speaking to her, but because for the first time in several hours, it was about something other than a book. Absent-minded, quietly exchanged comments between them had grown to be the norm between the looming bookshelves of the library, but Eloise was suddenly all too keenly aware that he was looking at her, and decidedly not at the book. Had possibly been looking for quite a while now, all without her noticing.
"You don't need to thank me," she said quietly, too mellowed out by the quiet focus of the past few hours to let herself get flustered again. "I wanted to see this place too, remember?" she reminded him with a small smile, her gloved hand hovering over an illustration of a bear-headed creature. Maybe she could photocopy this for Lainie...
"I do need to thank you. I need to thank you for many things. For saving my life a good few times. For picking me up when I was at my lowest. For being my friend. For... Well, for being you. I could go on but that might go on forever. I just..."
Brett trailed off, looking around at the setting they were in. How could you imagine any place more magical than a library at night? It held more stories than any place in the world.
He turned back to face her, brushing her hair behind her ear and off of her face. He was still wearing his gloves on his hands so that felt strange, touching her skin through cloth. He was used to actually touching her skin with his own. She wasn't appearing flustered this time which seemed like a good sign, didn't it? Was this a date? They were miles away from everyone they knew, safely stored in a room that held everything he kept most dear.
"I just wanted to say thank you, and that I love you. Ever so much," Brett whispered, keeping his hand against her cheek. They had come so far and he couldn't imagine a world without her now. He didn't want to.
It took only a few of his words for any thought of distant bugbear friends or old legends to slip completely from Eloise's mind, leaving room only for the sudden awareness of the quiet solitude around them, and the way Brett was looking at her, the adoration in his eyes and the reverence in his voice. There was a part of her that wanted to disappear - easier to vanish than to make herself process this. She wasn't entirely sure when all... all this had managed to happen to her, even though, looking back, the crucial steps seemed clear as day. Brett was her closest friend, close enough that it almost didn't feel like he could surprise her, not anymore...but somehow, the way he was right now had caught her entirely flat-footed. As if it were happening to someone else, and not her.
"...I'm..." Eloise swallowed, her face too warm where she could feel his hand through the cloth, only barely just managing to fight the urge to squirm away and curl into the smallest, most inconspicuous ball she could imagine. She lowered her eyes before looking back up at him almost defiantly. "Alright - have it your way, you're welcome," she said as firmly as she could manage, a smile trying at the corners of her mouth but never quite getting there past the seriousness of her expression. "But just so we're clear on it, I only- you're the one who- I mean, uh... crap." Her voice started out firm but all too soon she was trailing off into an agonised, mortified silence. Look at her - she couldn't even manage to string a sentence together. Christ, she didn't even know what she'd been meaning to say, and all whiel Brett was looking at her and being his stupid unfairly eloquent self, no less. Face burning and heart oddly hammering, Eloise managed to blurt out the only thing she could say she knew was true right now, her eyes fixed somewhere on the corner of his collar. "In truth, I just feel lucky I got to know you. I mean- that's not what I meant by 'just'," she stammered, fidgeting uncontrollably, "I don't mean to say that's all I feel, or that I don't- um, love you, because I do and a lot, but- I mean, you already know that, so just, just, um, just pretend I didn't just- say all that, I kind of have no idea what I said and I'm pretty sure none of it made sense!" The nervous stammer collapsed into an even more nervous giggle, and Eloise honestly had half a mind to either pick up the extraordinarily rare book and hold it in front of her like a shield to ward off even more of this, whatever it was, or turn invisible and run for the hills. The latter option was looking more appealing the more she dug herself into a hole from which she could never hope to escape.
Brett was sure that he could see the gears in her head stopping with his words. She was holding his gaze with such a look of surprise, embarrassment and something he couldn't put his finger on. She was certainly looking flustered now, a whole new level of flustered and he felt more in control than he ever had. Maybe it was the romantic poet in him that kept him floating words that sounded so eloquently put. Maybe it was the fact that it was all happening in a library, a place that he could easily call home. Maybe it was just that Eloise made him feel confident and safe that made things easier for him.
"It made some sense," Brett murmured, aware that the giggling and stammering were extremely new from Eloise. This was a new version of Eloise he was experiencing right now and there was something that made him even more fond of her in the way she was reacting right now. He pulled the gloves off, placing them down so he could rest his palm flat and free against her cheek. Brett had only really had crushes, fleeting that they were, and his kiss with Marley had been so drunk, he could barely remember it other than the taste of whiskey. His romance with Eloise was so much higher and deeper than any he had ever had before. That was probably why he felt comfortable touching her. He was intiating the touches right now and it felt okay. Eloise made everything feel okay, though the hammering heart wasn't a particularly good sign. He barely noticed that he had moved closer to her until his mouth was on hers. Definitely not like anyone else.
Eloise had barely even noticed when her fingers had gripped tightly into the priceless book, almost certainly more firmly than a librarian would tolerate. She wasn't entirely sure when she'd stopped breathing, either, or why she couldn't seem to move a muscle. It's not that she couldn't have avoided it, squirmed out of the way like she had before, with other people, once or twice. It was more, in fact, that she couldn't have avoided it, not with the fifty tons of solid iron that seemed to be pounding in place of her heart right now. Was this how deer felt, just before they got run over? Or the people she fed on, just after they looked into the eyes of fear itself and just before she sucked them dry? ...Fear she could sense from Brett, too, a strange gastronomical tingle past the thick smell of old books and aftershave and the entirely new sensation of vaguely dry lips pressing against hers. When was the last time they'd had something to drink? It was important to stay hydrated in this weather, but really, they hadn't been doing a good job of it at all, not even close. She caught herself about to lick her lips to wet them, but he was still- It was still happening, and for once in her life, Eloise had not the slightest, foggiest idea of what to do. So she did what she always grasped at - evasion. After holding her breath, frozen, for so long her head was starting to ache, Eloise opened her eyes (when had she shut them?), heaved in a strangled breath like a dying cow, and melted into thin air to stumble off and away from the chair, even now, still holding that goddamn book.
That... Brett had pulled away when she hadn't responded and found himself staring into nothing. Well, that was not meant to happen then. He'd tried. How could he be so stupid? Clearly she didn't want to do something like this and now she was invisible. He grabbed the gloves off of the table, holding them limply in his hands. Wasn't this what was supposed to happen? He had wanted to kiss her, followed what he had felt, and it seemed to have backfired spectacularly. He pulled the gloves on slowly, not knowing what to say now. How far had she even gone away? Maybe he should just... Pretend it never happened. That was probably the best bet. Right?
Brett turned his eyes back to the book, not reading it but pretending to. He felt like his heart was going to tear out of his chest. She'd initiated all the touches. Was this touch wrong for her? He certainly hadn't wanted to make her turn invisible. He turned a page, forcing himself to keep staring at the book until something else happened. Maybe his brain would find some way of avoiding this coming up ever again.
Eloise pressed herself to a shelf, watching him with wide eyes as he dug back into the book, just- The way his expression had closed up, so open and full of devotion just a moment ago. Oh, this couldn't be happening. Eloise wondered what the jailtime for stealing a rare book out of the Alexandrian Library would be, because she was certain she wouldn't be able to pry it out of her fingers anytime soon. She wrapped her arms around it like it was a stuffed toy, listening to her own heart do twisty sommersaults in her chest. She shouldn't have- Why had she even reacted like that? Far from burning up, she felt faint now, like she was going to pass out or float away any moment. She'd made a mistake. Had she made a mistake? How was she even supposed to tell, when she couldn't even... figure out what she wanted.
One thing she didn't want, though, was the silence, stretching heavier and thicker with every second that slimed on by. She couldn't take it. She wanted to disappear, but she didn't want to disappear like that.
"...Um," Eloise said from her little invisible corner, stiffly, and left it at that. Not much, but at least it was out there, it was something . Something to make herself, and him, deal with it rathre than just hiding behind their respective books like they clearly both wanted to. Her speech centers were going to take a while to restart - maybe he could talk her through it? He had always been so good at talking.
Brett had no idea what he was reading. He couldn't even translate it because of all the thoughts swirling in his head in a sickening way, like a boat in the middle of a storm in the sea. If only he could turn back time. Stop himself from it. He should have known better that they weren't meant to be like that. They were supposed to just be cuddling and holding hands. Kisses like that took things to a new level that was very clearly not what Eloise wanted from the reaction she had. He was smarter than this but... He couldn't work out emotions well enough, it seemed.
He heard the little 'um' from behind him but what was he meant to say? What could he say to make this better? There wasn't any words in any language to make this feel better. He felt sick to his stomach now. He turned another page, the words blurring in front of him. How could you get from feeling so happy to feeling so alone all in the space of a few minutes? "If you choose to leave, you can't take the book with you. You will most definitely be arrested, invisible or not." Even his voice didn't sound right.
And right out of nowhere, Eloise felt livid, the incoherent words in her head turning even more froathing and confused at seeing that he was- what, trying to brush it under the table. "E-excuse me?" she said in disbelief, a little too loudly for the hush of the library, her voice shook more than a little but at least those two words made sense. Was she hyperventilating? Maybe a little. She tried to force herself to take a deep breath, and then, with even more force of willpower, to release some of the grip she had on the book to her chest.
Brett didn't have anything else to say. What should have been the best night of them all had turned into a complete disaster. He closed the book, pressing his hands gently onto the cover to feel it through the cloth gloves. He had done what he had done and there was no way of undoing it, so what did she want him to say? Why was he the one who had to fill the silence? Hadn't he done enough damage without adding words to it?
The look on his face prickled away at any semblance of indignation Eloise had been able to muster for those short moments, and before she knew it, she was taking a step towards him - that, and the realisation of what a hypocrite she was being. "Don't do that," she stammered, voice nearly pleading, and was stunned to feel tears in her eyes. "I... I'm sorry. I don't know why I... Don't just- don't be quiet, okay? Please."
Brett moved his hands away from the book, taking his gloves off again and laying them beside it. "Why are you sorry?" Brett asked, turning towards the sound of the voice but still not seeing her there. Still invisible. He normally marvelled at what she could do with her invisibility, but right now, it made him feel even more alone and stupid than he already felt. "I don't have anything to say, Eloise..."
Elloise took another quiet step closer, cringing to herself. "I"m sorry I..." Why was she sorry? Sorry she'd hurt him with her reaction, certainly, but much more than that. More that she was sorry she still didn't understand why she'd reacted like that. There was nothing to it that was that drastic, except for- Well. Maybe except for the fact that for once, for once , it had come from him, and not from her. Eloise was a pusher and a prodder, always had been, and it had worked out well for her and Brett, her nudges and him leaning into them. She found herself craving affection from him the more she got a taste of it, and why was this any different, except that for once, they weren't moving at her pace? She took a deep breath.
"...I'm sorry I made you feel like- like you did something wrong," she mouthed, standing a few feet behind him. "I- you didn't, okay? I could have... I mean, I had time..." she trailed off into brief, pained embarrassment again. Maybe that was it. Not that she'd never thought about it. She'd just... never thought about it seriously, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why that was.
"Eloise, you turned invisible and ran away. I'm pretty sure that classifies me as doing something wrong." Brett moved his eyes back to his book, staring down at the cover he had so lovingly caressed barely an hour ago. "But, I realise that now, and we can just... Brush it under the carpet and continue reading and... Pretend it never happened." What other option was there? He didn't want Eloise to be hiding from him all the time because of this.
Eloise hissed out a low, frustrated breath, and finally managed to release her death cramp-like grip on the book, setting it down next to his. Immediately, it turned visible again. "...I panicked," she said flatly, and gave a jerky laugh that startled her, more hysterical than humourous. "I mean- I once did that with a pair of cops, too. And they didn't do anything wrong. I... I panic sometimes. It doesn't mean you-" It didn't mean she didn't want it, at least on some level. That she wasn't curious. That she wasn't wishing with all the fibers of her being right now that she'd been able to just wrap her arms around his neck like in every horrific romantic comedy ever and let some mysterious force of hormones sweep her away. Or something like that. Eloise swallowed, her eyes flitting to the side of his face again. "Can I hug you?' she asked in a small voice. Maybe she could fix this. Hugs always made things better between the two of them, right?
Brett really badly just wanted to go back to the hotel now. Being in the library wasn't fun anymore, wasn't exciting or enjoyable. It just felt awkward and forced now. Maybe this was why it had been easy when he was drunk? There was no internal voice telling you that it was wrong or you could handle it better or don't ever do anything like that ever. He wanted to switch that internal voice off right now in the hopes it might make things better. He didn't regret actually kissing her. He had wanted to. He regretted doing it at all, making that decision. "Of course you can."
Eloise felt gutted when even her pathetic attempt at humour fell flat, and sighed heavily, stopping next to him and wrapping both arms around him to hook her chin over his shoulder, pressing her face to the side of his head and squeezing her eyes shut. The silence she'd let cocoon her for the better part of the evening now felt painful, deafening. Eloise breathed out, shifted her arms around him, and lightly kissed his hair, apologetically. She felt like even more of a hypocrite now, but maybe she could fix this. There had to be some way to fix this.
Brett thought that the hug would make him feel better but it didn't. He was fighting the urge to move away, touch feeling all kinds of wrong now. It felt wrong, having been rejected from his own intiation of touch, but she obviously felt the need to touch him so he let it happen. He kept the urge down inside him, bubbling away with the feelings of embarrassment and anxiety. "Feel better?"
Eloise sniffled. "...Not really," she muttered, her heart sinking even further at the way his voice sounded, and the faint thrum of something too close to fear she could feel from him. She swallowed and sank into the chair, holding onto his sleeve but not forcing him to hold her hand. She felt more awful by the second. She focused on her breathing for a little while, but wasn't ready to turn visible again, not just yet. "...I don't want to pretend it never happened," she whispered finally, her fingers tight on his sleeve.
Was she crying? Brett really hoped that she wasn't crying. He couldn't deal with this if he had made her cry too. It was bad enough making her turn invisible and run off, but crying too? "Then what do you want me to do? I can't rewind time, and if I could, I would have done so by now..." He muttered, very aware of her holding his sleeve but still unable to see her.
Eloise huffed out a slow, unsteady breath, and didn't answer at first. It wouldn't be difficult - not technically, no. Wouldn't be difficult to close that gap and see what all the fuss was about, without reacting like a princess who'd seen a mouse this time. It may feel a little awkward, but so had hugging him, at the beginning. She almost started to move in before she caught herself, blinking once. No. That wouldn't be right, and not just because she'd probably ruined any mood there had been. But because it had to come from him, again. "..............You could do it again?" she mouthed, voice so small it was barely audible, a little sorry and a little hopeful, and all the while her fingers still kept that tight lock on his sleeve.
Of all the things Eloise could have said in that moment, he certainly hadn't expected her to say he could do it again. Had she not seen the reaction that had just happened when he tried the first time? Surely it would be just solidifying the fact if he tried a second time? His eyes roamed to his sleeve, seeing the creases where she was holding him but not her hand. "Do it again?" Brett repeated, looking at where her head should be. Hopefully. "Really?" Even his voice sounded disbelieving.
No, not really, Eloise almost said. She had no idea what she was doing, even if she was reasonably sure she wouldn't run off again. And she was bizarrely afraid , like this would change something between them that she'd been doing a pretty good job of pretending hadn't been changed already, and for good. It would be much harder to pretend, if she said yes to this... but at the same time, Eloise had never seen anything scary she hadn't been tempted to try and approach, at least a little. She swallowed and nodded before realising he couldn't see her. She took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and let the invisibility slip, her knuckles going white on his sleeve. Reluctantly, she craned her eyes open to meet his, the eye contact so much heavier and more damning, now that he knew exactly where to look. "....Really," she said, and nodded firmly, and tried not to faint.
Brett saw her come back into visibility and found her eyes, looking into them as if they would give him some clue that he should try again. From the way she was sat, he really felt that doing it again was a really bad idea. Her grip on his sleeve was almost capable of breaking bones, he was sure. He let out a soft sigh, brushing her hair away from her face. This was going to push them into a new place, a new section of their life, and he really wasn't sure if she wanted him to kiss her again, or if she was saying it because she was worried about him. But, she had nodded and agreed, so... If she ran away again, it was on her head. He watched her cautiously, heart pounding away as he leaned in to kiss her ever so lightly on the lips. Just in case.
Her eyes were slipping shut, almost fearfully, as he moved in, adrenaline pounding inside of her. She squared her shoulders and braced herself and... then it was happening. Eloise felt a spike of something, something about the way she'd briefly felt his breath on her mouth, the gentle, almost chaste way he did it. His hair was in her face, in some ticklish spot on her nose, but she didn't dare move. His nose was bumping hers, or would if she turned her head even a little. Eloise tried to take a shuddering breath before she discovered, awkwardly, that she couldn't breathe through her mouth, not like this. She swallowed instead. She was aware she still had her fingers in his sleeve, and she was probably supposed to do something about that. Was she supposed to move her lips, make those disgusting slurping noises PDA'ing couples tended to make, or was that part optional? Why was this so complicated? Not having the faintest idea what else to do, Eloise settled for shifting her fingers along his hand, to grip securely around his wrist instead, while her left hand rested somewhat uselessly against the table.
All Brett was worried about was the fact that he wasn't sure she wanted to do this at all and was almost certain it was because she felt bad about her own reaction. He desperately wanted to just focus on how this felt, on what he was supposed to do, on enjoying it, but he couldn't. She was like a stone in her posture, not relaxed at all and he was definitely sure that wasn't how this was meant to go. He was contemplating pulling away and forgetting the whole idea again, when he felt her hand gripping his wrist now. He wriggled his wrist out of her grip, only so he could lace their fingers together properly. Maybe he should just do what they normally do. Would that help? He pulled away from her mouth slightly, eyes watching her warily.
Eloise was far too wired with nerves to think about any of this clearly, and her pounding heart wasn't helping. There was a lump in her throat and she wasn't sure where it came from, but when she could breathe again, she gasped a little, trying to catch up on her breath. The only thing good about this were the fingers he'd laced through hers, and she latched onto them, not willing to let go anytime soon. She caught Brett's eye - so close, his face was maybe two inches from hers and it was hard not to glance down at his mouth and the faint line of worry there, and the slow burn of heat in her face wasn't helping matters any. "I-I have no idea what I'm doing," Eloise blurted out to him in mortification, and gave a quiet, pained laugh. She found she couldn't look at him for long and stared at the hand she was holding, instead. "Do... do you have... any idea?" She almost, almost regretted stopping Miles that windy evening at the beach. If nothing else, she'd have probably gotten a speck of practice in, and- no, definitely not a good time to think about Miles, or anyone else.
Brett could feel the death-like grip on his hand and was extremely glad he had thought of it. That was how Eloise made him feel more at ease; she comforted him in ways she knew that worked. He just had to do it in return, right? He took in a few shaky breaths of his own, not daring to move away in case he spooked her. "The one kiss I've had, I was extremely drunk, so... I know vaguely what I'm doing," Brett muttered, moving his free hand to her hair. That's where he tended to keep his hand after all. "Is this why you're so worried?"
Eloise let out a soft breath at the hand in her hair, letting her eyes slip shut again even as she knew he was still watching her. He'd all but conditioned her to relax when he touched her like that, and right now, she was very glad for it. The vaguely nauseating pressure of her heartbeats seemed to subside just a little. Eloise shifted her fingers and made a conscious effort to loosen them just a little. Her other hand was still gripping the table, of all the things to be gripping, but... one step at a time. "....Maybe," she confessed, her voice low and uncertain. "M-maybe that's, um, part of it, yeah." Was hard not to feel anxious, given how much value society tended to attach to kissing , and its role in a 'relationship'. How could something that looked so straightforward feel so complicated? Eloise swallowed and peeked through her eyelashes for just a moment to run her gaze over his face, then leaned in quickly to try and kiss him before she could lose her nerve.... emphasis on try, given that she bumped rather uncomfortably into his nose before she could do it, and pulled back again with an embarrassed little yelp. Eloise looked back at him with mortification, her hand finally free of the table to rub at her nose uncertainly.
Brett had learnt early on about the use his hand in her hair had, not only for relaxing him but for relaxing Eloise. Maybe he should have tried that first but all things make sense in hindsight. The death grip on his hand had loosened and he could feel some feeling coming back to his hands in little tingles of pins and needles as the blood rushed to them. "But that's okay. We can... Figure this out together. That's what we do, isn't it?" He whispered, eyes still on her as she spoke. He couldn't help but laugh lightly at the collision at the attempt of a kiss. It really was like trying to put jigsaw pieces together. In 3D. "Maybe... Um... Maybe don't rush it? It's okay. I'll stay very still."
Eloise groaned, but even she couldn't help but laugh at her own awkwardness, and that felt good, the loosening in her chest with the tension thinning, just a little. She looked around to make sure they were still alone, then shook her head at him. "Oh-h, so suddenly you're the expert," she snorted, feeling strange as the nearly nauseating nerves started to make way for a very different kind of adrenaline, slowly coming to a head, warm and tingling. "Um, let me just..." she tried to sit up straighter, then awkwardly dug her fingers into his collar to hold him steady down at her height, started to lean in, then stopped with an embarrassed huff. "A-are you just going to be watching me while I do it?"
Laughter eased a lot of tense situations, though sometimes they did make them worse, but in this instance he was glad of it as it seemed to make things a little calmer. "I'm really not the expert but it's just an observation," Brett muttered, a small, fragile smile on his face. He let himself be tugged around into the position she wanted him in. Height differences were a pain sometimes. Maybe he should ask her to sit on the table... "I'm a little wary but..." He shut his eyes, letting her take her time. It was nerve wrecking not being able to see her face right now.
Eloise wasn't sure why she'd thought this would make it easier, watching him just waiting for it and not having any clue what was going to happen. She rubbed at her face anxiously, staring back at his. She could do this. She could do this, it couldn't be that difficult, she just needed to take her time and focus and pretend she wasn't in a public library with him, alone, a thousand thousand miles from home. Eloise bit on her lip, took a very deep breath, and pried her fingers out of his hand to set both of hers firmly on his shoulders. Very slowly, she leaned in with her head tilted awkwardly at an angle to his, wet her lips, and let her eyes flicker shut as she pressed her mouth to his. Her fingers flexed on his shoulders, nervously, but she forced herself to stay there and hope that she would magically get the hang of it further in.
If Brett could feed off of anxiety the way that Eloise fed off fear, he was sure he would be having a feast right now. He could fell the nerves running through her in all the actions she was taking. Yes, this was new but they had spoken about them being new to this. It felt as if there was something else in this, something else making her anxious and nervous. Should he stop her? Should he ask? He didn't know. Her lips were gentle on his but keeping his eyes closed just didn't feel right at the moment. He needed to see. He needed to see and make sure she was okay...
He opened his eyes for the briefest of moments, seeing that she had her eyes closed herself. She was beautiful, even in a panic. Truly beautiful. He moved his hand back into her hair, running his fingers gently to the back of her neck. His hand in her hair relaxed her. Maybe that would help somehow. He shut his eyes again, pressing gently back into the kiss.
Eloise shifted a little restlessly, but somehow, this was slowly starting to make sense. It was starting to feel familiar again - not all of it, but the parts that weren't new. The gentle fingers in her hair and pressed against her neck. Her head wasn't exactly comfortable, tilted like this, but at least this way, it seemed to work. She took in a breath through her nose and parted her lips to let it out again, warm against his face. Suddenly she couldn't help but shiver, a flush spreading down her cheeks. Breathing was tricky, but maybe this was one way to make it work. She would probably have to Google it later. Slowly, gingerly, she leaned into the kiss a little more firmly, moved her mouth against his and kept her lips parted slightly. It still felt utterly bizarre... but it was starting to fit into place, too, in a strange way. Her fingers tightened in his collar briefly before one of them twitched up, held stiffly between them, trying to find a good place to perch.
This wasn't the easiest position for this at all. Part of him was wondering whether it would have been easier if she was sat in his lap, but that would probably be a little too inappropriate for the library. They certainly needed to find a way of doing this without sitting awkwardly if they planned to do it again. Brett felt her breath against his lips and realised she seemed to have found a way to breathe. He copied her as best he could, feeling a little less lightheaded now he could breathe but not much. There was this quite enjoyable churning in his stomach at the kissing. It was starting to click together, following steps that were biologically inside them. He kept his fingers entwined with her hair at the back of her neck, using his other hand to capture hers that was floating around between them. The kissing was developing, slow and affectionate like they always were, with more pressure being applied as they let themselves get used to it.
Eloise was glad for the hand that closed around hers - it made her feel more grounded and less like she was a feather being tossed about at sea. She was starting to grow aware of what it felt like, past the awkward position and the endless nerves, aware of his breath rushing on her cheeks and, unexpectedly, the stubble around his mouth. She pulled away, not moving far but enough to take a deep, proper breath, and opened her eyes to meet his sheepishly. "I'm, ah, I'm... um, a little dizzy," she confessed with an awkward, breathless chuckle, all too aware of the burning heat in her face.
Brett opened his eyes when she pulled away, taking in a few steadying breaths himself before he responded to her. "I'm feeling pretty lightheaded too," he murmured, squeezing her hand lightly in his as he looked over her face. She was certainly flushed but it felt different this time. He hadn't flustered her this time and he was feeling pretty warm himself. "Maybe we should... put the books away? Get some air?"
Eloise slumped away from him and to a safer distance, rubbing at her face absently while still staring back at him. "The- oh right, yes. The books. We should... put those away. Definitely," she said woodenly. She stared at his face for a few moments longer before her eyes fell heavily on the book she'd set down on the table. Only then did she notice she was still wearing gloves. She rubbed at her face again, with the back of her hand, to make it feel less like her blood was going to evaporate through her skin. She managed to stumble to her feet, and reach for the book, then stole another glance at Brett. Right. This was going to take some getting used to, wasn't it?
It wasn't until a long while later, when they were out of the library and on their way back to the hotel, that Eloise remembered one very mortifying fact:
The invaluable Rare Books section of the Alexandrian Library almost certainly had security cameras, and they had just given them the show of the century.
