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11. Earthquake (Tobirama)

The pile was so high now, I had to look past it to see where I was going.

I always ended up doing the same thing. I went to the library to get one or two books about pottery in the search of new techniques and inspiration, but left with an entire pile. Who knew there were so many fucking books about pottery? The funny thing was, I went through all of them within a week and had to come back for more.

I always found it strange to be in libraries. I knew at least some people would recognise me; statistically, they should and also, I saw how they cast weirded-out glances at me. Luckily, they were too distracted by seeing a porn star out and about, in a library nonetheless, to notice the books about pottery which I was grateful for as it was so important to me to keep that aspect of my life to myself. Some people did, of course, find my huge pile of books eye-catching and would look at the titles to see what I was all about, then raise an eyebrow, but they clearly didn't know who I was so I didn't mind, really.

I was hoping that at least one of the books held some inspiration of how to make more complicated vases. I had tried loads of different patterns and shapes over the years, but none of them had been truly challenging to me.

I wonder what Izuna does in his spare time.

I didn't really know where the thought came from all of a sudden. He had had a tendency to do that ever since I met him... Just slip into my mind, all of a sudden. What did he like to eat? What countries had he seen? What were his dreams and ambitions?

I thought about the party last night. Roland, my manager, had told me he knew Izuna would be there. Or, at least that he was invited. I had looked all over for him, and not discretely. Actually, I had walked around the place going 'Have you seen Izuna? Have you seen Izuna?' for the first full hour. Finally, I gave up, found a girl, made out with her until she invited me home.

I thought about the girl, what I had truly felt about her. Nothing, really. I didn't usually feel things about the girls I slept with. It hadn't bothered me before. Now, however...

Suddenly, I stopped dead in the library.

I stopped dead and I stared.

On my way to checkout, I'd walked past one of the glassed-in study rooms. And lo and behold; there he was.

He was sitting at the table, writing something in a notebook, deep in thought. He had a large, black band T-shirt with an octopus; Red Hot Chili Peppers, I read, and his hair was fastened on his head with a large, black clip with rhinestones. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that made him look painfully intelligent, which I suddenly realised he might as well be. His lips were glistening; I saw a chapstick next to his notebook he had clearly been using excessively. He looked at the computer screen, wrote something down, looked back up, frowned, scratched something in his notepad, wrote again. He took a book up and turned to a page he seemed to know by heart, looked up a paragraph, wrote again. He was so focussed, I suspected only an earthquake could wake him up from his thoughts.

I wish I were that earthquake.

Another thought I wasn't prepared to think.

I stood and looked at him stupidly for a while until I finally realised that standing and staring at someone in a library was weird. What was I going to do? I wanted to talk to him so badly. I had missed him. Actually missed him. I couldn't remember last time I missed someone that wasn't my cat.

I didn't know if I ever had.

Had it been a girl, I had known exactly what to do, and I would have done it. I would have opened that door, sat down next to her, close enough so they'd known I was interested but not close enough to scare them off. But he wasn't a girl. He was something else entirely and I wasn't used to it. It fascinated me how engrossed he was in his daily life. I was afraid that if I went in there and showed interest, he wouldn't take the bait if he deemed his studies were more important, no matter how badly he wanted me. I found that incredibly intimidating for some reason.