#maiele

He exhaled a sigh through his nose, refusing to look away from the manuscript in his hands.

Maiele smiled sweetly, resting his chin in his palm as he leaned forward with his elbow propped on the table. He adored watching Tyril read—the subtle pull on his features when knowledge was particularly inspiring, the way his eyes widened, letting the dim lights of the library twinkle in his eyes.

Tyril's gaze flickered up, just for a moment. He attempted to avert his eyes quickly, but he had still caught Maiele's alluring attention. Focusing on the text was nearly impossible for the elf now. After a series of growing and unrelenting frustrated sighs, Tyril finally turned back to Maiele, a stern look on his face.

"Can I help you?" Maiele questioned, his yellow eyes glowing with admiration.

"You need to stop," Tyril grumbled.

"Stop what?"

"You know!"

"If I knew what you were talking about, I would not have asked the question."

"You're being distracting."

"I haven't said a word since I sat down," Maiele stated proudly, his brow rising. "Actually, you know you're impressed by that!" 

"That fact does not alter my previous statement," Tyril insisted, his gaze falling to Maile's all too kissable lips—too close to focus and yet, still too far away. He drifted closer to Maiele, forgetting himself. The book in his hands fell from his grasp, pulling him from the trance that had overtaken him. "See what I mean?"

"Oh, don't worry. I see what you need."

"Good." Tyril attempted to recompose himself, clearing his throat. He reached to gather the book but was blocked by Maiele's hand, holding it to the table. "What are you doing?"