POV: Anan
The library smelled faintly of old paper and polished wood, mixed with the subtle aroma of coffee drifting from the small café corner. Anan Phongchai shuffled nervously between rows of bookshelves, his oversized backpack weighing heavily on one shoulder. His notebook, which he had been so careful with yesterday, peeked out from a side pocket, making him extra cautious.
He was searching for a book on marketing theories for a class project. For a first-year like him, the library was a labyrinth. Every shelf seemed taller than the last, and the soft hum of students typing or whispering created an almost intimidating silence.
"Excuse me! Sorry!" Anan muttered as he turned a corner sharply, only to collide with someone.
Books toppled from his arms. His heart leapt. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!"
"Careful!" a familiar deep voice said, steady but laced with surprise. Nate Chaiyaporn stood before him, arms crossed, a small frown creasing his forehead.
Anan's face flushed bright red. "I-I didn't see you there. I swear!"
Nate crouched slightly, helping him gather the fallen books. Their hands brushed as they reached for the same marketing textbook. Anan's breath caught. The fleeting touch, so light yet so electric, sent an unexpected warmth racing through him.
"You really need to watch where you're going, Nong," Nate said, his voice calm but teasing. "Library corners aren't for running."
Anan gulped and nodded, fumbling to stack the books. "I know… I just… I wasn't paying attention." His words trailed off, but his gaze kept flicking up at Nate. He couldn't help it. There was something about the senior—calm, composed, and inexplicably magnetic—that drew him in.
Krit appeared from behind a shelf, smirking. "Whoa, who's running into who now? Looks like someone's excited to see you again, Nate."
Nate shot him a sharp look. "Krit."
Anan buried his face slightly in his hands, feeling mortified. "I… I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," Nate interrupted, handing him the last book. His dark eyes met Anan's amber ones. There was a softness there now, a spark that made Anan's chest tighten. "You're lucky I'm here."
Anan swallowed hard. "Y-Yeah… lucky."
For a few seconds, they stood awkwardly, both unsure of what to say. The library's quiet made every heartbeat sound loud. Then, Nate broke the silence with a smirk.
"You know, if you keep bumping into me like this, someone might start thinking you're trying to get my attention."
Anan's cheeks burned hotter. "…I… I'm not!" he stammered. But even as he denied it, he couldn't hide the flutter in his chest.
Nate chuckled softly, straightening. "Sure… if you say so."
Anan grabbed his notebook, holding it like a shield. "I-I should get going before I… bump into someone else."
"Wait," Nate said, stepping slightly closer. "Do you need help finding the book you were looking for? Seems like you're struggling."
Anan hesitated. He didn't want to seem dependent, but… there was something about Nate's calm, steady presence that made him feel safer. "…Okay… maybe just for a minute?"
They walked together between the shelves. Nate's long strides matched Anan's hurried pace, and somehow, Anan felt he was walking closer than necessary. Every time their shoulders brushed, Anan's heart raced, and he quickly looked away, cheeks flushed.
"So, marketing theory, huh?" Nate asked, his tone casual but curious. "You're actually taking notes, not just flipping through, right?"
"Yes…" Anan replied, biting his lip. "I… I want to do well. I don't want to fall behind."
Nate nodded, studying him. "Good attitude. Most first-years just skate by." He smirked. "But you… you seem different."
Anan's stomach did a strange flip. "Different… how?"
Nate's smirk softened into something warmer. "Focused. Determined. And… a little clumsy, but in a way that's… kind of charming."
Anan's ears burned at the compliment. "…Charming?" he echoed, almost whispering.
"Yes," Nate said with a grin. "Don't deny it. I can see it."
They finally reached the shelf with the marketing books. Nate picked one off the top for Anan and handed it to him. Their fingers touched again, longer this time. Anan felt an electric shiver run up his arm.
"Thanks," he whispered, barely audible. "You… you really help a lot."
"I don't mind," Nate replied smoothly. "Besides, I like seeing you try."
Anan's heart raced. His thoughts spun. Try… for him? Like he… liked him? He quickly shook his head. No, that was impossible. Nate Chaiyaporn was a senior, confident, composed… and far out of his league.
As they started to part ways, Nate's voice stopped him. "Hey… Nong?"
Anan looked up. "Y-Yes?"
Nate's gaze softened, and a rare, small smile appeared. "See you around… okay?"
Anan nodded quickly, unable to speak. He watched as Nate walked away, his long strides confident and sure, leaving Anan's thoughts tangled and his heart pounding.
Sitting at a nearby table, Anan opened his notebook, trying to concentrate. But every scribble felt pointless. All he could think about was the brush of fingers, the teasing smirk, the warmth of Nate's presence.
By the time the lecture bell rang, Anan was certain of one thing: he wanted to see Nate again. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted Nate to notice him too—not just as a clumsy first-year, but as someone worth caring about.
Meanwhile, Nate returned to his class, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. First-year, innocent, clumsy… and captivating. He felt a protective urge rising, stronger than he expected. And he had a feeling this was just the beginning.
The library encounter, though brief, had created something new—a tension that neither could ignore, a connection that both felt deep in their hearts. And as they continued with their day, each secretly replayed the moments, wondering when and how their paths would cross again.
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