#shotgun shell

bumped into you on his way out of class, too busy talking to tim. he hadn't noticed you and grazed past, rough shoulder against yours. "oh, sorry!"

you waved a hand, then, a little smile on your face. "nah, it's alright." and something in his brain fired. a root system of electricity connected to every corner, like a working tesla coil circuit. huh.

brian gave back that little smile of his, head tilted to get a better look. "say," he smiled a little wider, fully aware tim was starting to walk away, "i've never seen you around before."

you blink for a second, registering. "right, yeah," a laugh leaves your lips. "i don't... show up often, actually." well, he'd notice if you did.

"nice to meet ya," he held out his hand, posture straightened up just a little, "names brian." -- and to think a handshake changed the trajectory of his daily schedule.

because you were right. you barely showed up at all, most days. hard to catch, could scarcely talk to you. he thought he'd like to build some rapport first; get a better idea of what he's getting himself into -- maybe get your number? but you're as enigmatic as an urban legend. can't find you. can't catch up to you, either. it's almost like you go up in a puff of air whenever he sees you rounding a corner.

thought himself going crazy, asked tim if he'd seen the person he'd bumped into that day, if brian had bumped into anyone at all. "sure ya did. i left when you started talking." tim huffed. so you do exist.

real flesh and blood, and a real phone too. found you, late one evening, alongside an excuse to ask for your number. luminous amber under the sunset, a prize after all his running around. and you gave it to him.

"see you around," you almost waved, but he's not letting another chance like this slip by, no sir, so he exclaimed a 'wait '.

and a little awkward laugh escaped him. who was he becoming? "i was thinking..."

you turned back to face him, hand fiddling with the phone you're putting back in your pocket, eyes curious and wide.

"wanna go out?" he... didn't mean it like that. "for a coffee, maybe?" but you didn't seem to notice. real smooth, big guy. suave as ever.

but he put his mental beating aside when you agreed, his smile genuine, replacing the awkward one. watching the pot in his mind simmer on a new breakthrough.

∗ ∗ ∗

"how was it?" wasn't much of a question, given it came from tim. eyes half-lidded, body sprawled out on the couch, arms crossed.

brian had made a few decisions. "pretty good," he groaned, sitting down, eyes trained to the ceiling.

he wants to know you more

he wants to...

actually... getting the first point out of the way would be a start. he's usually ambitious, wants to get a list of things done at any given opportunity, but this time? he'll slow down a bit. speed up only when it starts to count. he'll play the rhythm as it presents itself, for now.

he pulls out his phone, shooting you a text:

> 'Had fun :)'

he paused, the caret blinking against his eyes, waiting.

grabbing lunch or even dinner seems too forward, but another go at a coffee shop is just repetitive.

he turned, looking over at tim dozing off.

...

> 'Had fun :) Would you want to grab breakfast tomorrow before class?'

he didn't exactly know your schedule, but asking couldn't hurt. surely you'd be free enough in the morning?

he sat there, pointers tapping against the sides of his phone, staring at the open chat. ehh... you'll reply eventually. he should just wait.

with a sigh, he leaves his phone behind on the couch, getting up to shding!

> 'Sorry, no can do! How about lunch instead? '

he thinks about it for a bit.

you always seemed busy around midday, but... maybe tomorrow you weren't?

... ah, to hell with it.

> 'No problem!'

∗ ∗ ∗

12:09, brian is waiting at the spot you agreed upon. he imagined you'd arrive somewhat soon, any later and lunch wouldn't be that anymore. more like... lunner... dinch? whatever lunch plus dinner equals, it'd be that.

> 'I'm here :)'

> 'Where? I don't see you '

he looks up, head on a swivel, trying to find you. door, then front-of-house, but he can't seem to. where are you?

the chair under him scrapes as he gets up, another text to specify the seat he's in.

but the reply you send back has him pausing.

> 'Thought we were supposed to meet at 2? '

what?

> 'Isn't that too late?'

> 'When do you usually have lunch?'

he couldn't stop himself with that last text, befuddled completely by how late you thought the meeting would be.

> 'Depends. Usually 3 ish though '

he sits back down, bottom lip caught between his teeth. what?

brian couldn't really decide whether or not he should ask you to just come now, or if he should wait around until the time you're used to. he let out a little puff of air, leg bouncing anxiously.

still, three pm seems far too late, even for him. just move it to dinner? maybe... reschedule the whole thing to some other day. damn, he should'a specified the time. who does that? forgets to mention the when. still, who eats lunch at three? when do you have dinner, then? or breakfast?

but his worries are cast aside when you say you'll be there in a bit.

∗ ∗ ∗

see, brian thinks most of the world runs on a pretty similar schedule. meals are set at certain times everyone is used to, work and school are pretty standard. even if someone were in college, their schedule would be pretty predictable. he's never faced an issue with someone before, especially when going out to eat. but you? honestly, he's got no clue how you run.

his printer fucked up. wouldn't work, for whatever reason. ink was fine and full, printer was plugged in where it should be, all the buttons are completely functional. but nada -- no print.

he grumbled and groaned, but eventually decided he'd head over early next morning to the campus library, housing the closest printer in the vicinity.

got up, got in his car, arrived at campus, then walked into the library. at this hour, you wouldn't really find anyone. well, maybe except for...

"oh, hey brian!" you smiled up at him from your seat. leaned against the table, a giant book open, cover propped up against your arm.

he blinked. once... twice... before finally smiling back, lop-sided and a bit bleary. "good morning."

he fiddled with the printer for a bit, "what's got you up here so early?" can't a man quench his curiosity?

you hummed, "hah, couldn't sleep anymore. thought i'd hang here for a bit."

right on, right on. what do you mean by 'anymore'?

letting the papers file through the machine, brian takes a seat adjacent to yours. he crosses his arms and lays his head down to face you.

"your timing's all weird." there, he confessed it. tried to be polite, but he really couldn't word it any better.

you let out a chuckle, closing the behemoth and focusing your attention on him. "how so?"

he closes his eyes to ponder, then opens them again, looking directly into your eyes.

"you're never around when i expect you to be," he thinks back to your similarly majoring peers. how they're around, but you aren't. "classes, for example."

you nod in acknowledgement, crossing your arms, then mirroring his position on top of the book you were reading.

"and that time," wasn't too long ago. give it a few days, "when you said your lunchtime was at three..." he trails off, still baffled.

you let out a sharp exhale through your nose, "who has lunch at three?" brian exclaims. that got a laugh out of you.

"and what do you mean when you said 'depends'?" he recalls the text you sent, having never gotten a chance to ask about it.

your eyes have a pretty glint in them, a little humour. "can't catch you when i expect to."

"expect to?"

he lifts his head, leaning it against the crane of his arm. "like now,"

his eyes study you for a moment, "wouldn't have guessed in a million years that you're awake, and here, in the library." then a tired smile graces his face.