sanest albedo fan

His fingertips would always reach for yours, even if it's about the smallest of the smallest things—whether it's handing books, or handing him a mug, or handing him anything—his fingers would always graze against yours, savoring the brief moment of your touch before it's gone.

Oh, how he wants you.

Painfully.

Despite the warm smile Chesed holds for you, he's always been admiring you from afar, keeping his distance as he makes no move to pursue you. After all, you were just librarians under Angela's hold with a bleak future looming over your heads; a guillotine threatening to take your life.

It feels like standing on one side of a river that isn’t wide enough to justify giving up, but too wide to cross. Chesed could see everything clearly—your smile, your eyes—and he could hear the sound of your laughter if the wind shifts right. He can imagine the warmth of your hand if he can remember it.

But he cannot reach out.

His eyes were always glued to you, with a small pain thrumming on his heart. The pain is silent and lingering, reminding him that he can't do anything; and it pains him to just stand there, resisting every urge to just cup your cheek and rub his thumb against the swell of your cheekbones. 

Chesed can't do anything, and it's killing him as if poison slipped into his veins.

You're his poison.

The apple of his eye.

The center of his world.

The morning dew on nature's leaves.

To him, no one hasn't noticed just how painfully Chesed was reaching in the distance. Chesed made sure that he kept it a secret, leaving no traces behind.

Though, he was wrong. The others have noticed—Malkuth, Yesod, Hod, Netzach—almost every Patron Librarian could notice just how painfully Chesed was reaching out to you. How could they have missed that, when Chesed always looked at you like you held the entire universe? His eyes always brightened up like the sun peaking through the rain clouds, and he always looked like you were home.

Chesed's yearning gets the best of him, and it scares him.

In one afternoon, Chesed was ruminating in his thoughts as he wiped another mug clean. With a crisp click, he placed it back on one of the shelves, dusting his hands. You were behind him, seated in your usual spot—alone. His back was turned to you, cleaning his station.

No one was around at the moment, and that silence only amplified Chesed's thoughts like the waves in his head turning violent. You weren't talkative as usual as well, after having a rough reception.

With a slip of his tongue, he blurted, “...You really have no idea what you do to people, do you? To me?”

A beat passes, and his eyes momentarily widen in shock with his heart sinking in his shoes. His hands that were occupied with brewing coffee froze, and his line of thoughts silenced itself.

“...What?” You croaked, stopping halfway in sipping your coffee. 

Chesed wants to dump himself in boiling hot water—how was he so sidetracked to the point he let a sliver of his feelings slip? 

Backtracking, he immediately opens his mouth, turning his head to your gaze. “...Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud.”

A smile spreads on his lips, quickly putting up his usual calm demeanor as a mask while he bites his tongue on the inside. “It was nothing. Just a little slip-up, that's all~” he added, but the tone he used was more like he was convincing himself not to worry.

Maybe it was stupid of him to backtrack—maybe he should've admitted his feelings then and there, so that he could get it out of his chest. More thoughts began to cumulate and stewed in his feelings even more, his usual talkative demeanor washing away. Though, the afternoon had already passed before he could muster up the courage to confess.

Funnily enough, his cowardice put him back in his shell, restraining him—and it pains him to do so. That moment was so perfect; no one was around, it was silent, and it was just the two of them.

But he was so, so stupid for thinking he could have a chance with you. You were out of his league, you could never have your eyes on him... or so he thinks.

Even as he gazes at you from afar, he'll accept the fact that he will be just admiring you, as long as he keeps his eyes on you. That's enough for him.

.

.

.

It wasn't just Chesed who was admiring from a distance.

You were, too. 

You were admiring him from afar, appreciating how he always remembered how you liked your coffee. You appreciated how he always offered help when you were stuck with sorting through books. He deeply and sincerely cared about his librarians and his friends, even if almost none of them returned the favor. He was so considerate and thoughtful, and you swore that made you fall even harder.

And you noticed his stares.

Well, aside from his handsome face; you always noticed how he stared at you—how his eyes brightened up an entire room shrouded in darkness when he saw you. You noticed he lets his touch linger for a moment before pulling away. You noticed how he admired you from a distance. 

You wanted nothing more than to just take his hand in yours, squeezing it. You wanted nothing more than to just walk up to him and wrap your arms around him. You wanted nothing more than to lock your lips against his.

You wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Of course you couldn't have missed them. His feelings were painstakingly obvious—he was bad at hiding things like these, but that was to say about you as well. No one could’ve overlooked the way both of you locked gazes at one another like you were each other's comfort.

Though, even as you notice all of them, you can't help but hesitate to reach out to him. You know that he'll welcome you in his arms if you do, and you wanted nothing more than to just hold him.

Maybe if you buy some more time to reflect, you could welcome him in.

Some day, that'll be possible.