Dear William,

Chapter 1: The First Page

Dear William,

That day wasn't like any other day. It had rained heavily, so much so that I hid in my usual corner in the library, my dark spot away from the world, while I drowned myself in my novels. I hated the rain, anything wet, and most importantly, anything that was undetermined, like the weather. It was the beginning of November. We had our first lecture-free day as we began preparing for the finals. A little while ago, it was Halloween, and in a few weeks, it would be Thanksgiving. I expected winter, the cold snow, and the rush for another meaningless holiday at the orphanage, a cold and empty one. But it was worse. It was still cold, but wet, a painful reminder of the day I hoped to forget.

The pages that I had not expected to come to an end did. I was finally at the last chapter, the final bit of the book that I had been reading for days. I closed the book shut almost immediately and let out an exasperated sigh. I wanted no more of it. I was done. I hated endings. I could never bring myself to them.

I got up from the wooden floor of my corner in the library, gently picked up my mess of books, and took long strides out of my hole and back into the rowdy library.

Students spoke freely, laughed amongst themselves, and lounged around. Most tables consisted of students sitting in circles with barely a book in sight. It felt like a competition to see whose group was the happiest, but I bothered little with them.

I needed only one glance to confirm that the librarian, Mrs. Jones, wasn't in her seat. Instead, Derriere, the school's library prefect, sat cross-legged on her revolving chair, snobbishly ordering a sophomore around. Well, I couldn't judge her. Today was a free day, and while everyone was expected to come to school as usual, it wasn't necessary to do any schoolwork.

I glanced away and focused on the shelves in front of me. One by one, I placed the books back until my hands were bare again, and I went on my next hunt.

Heartstopper.

It was a new book, one that was expected to have a series adaptation soon. It wasn't a classic like Shakespeare or Austen, but I remembered Alyssa talking about it, and with nothing else to do, I was intrigued to find out more.

I knew the library like the back of my hand. After all, I was more familiar with its walls than those of the orphanage I was supposed to call home. It felt similar to what the others called home—something I could rely on sometimes.

The aisle for the new books was far from the classics and closer to the entrance of the library. It was the principal's poor attempt, and obsession, with fitting in with other schools, and her need to be recognised as modern and innovative, even when the walls of the school were slowly rotting away and desperately needed repairs.

The aisle for the new books came into sight sooner than expected. Its fresh feeling was evident, especially given the number of students crowding the main aisle at the centre.

I began looking ahead, hoping to catch a glimpse of the colourful cover. It took a while, and at least six quick steps, before I finally saw it.

I stifled a small smile and hurried towards it. Luckily for me, no one else seemed to be approaching the book. I took my chance and reached for it.

My hand got there first.

It was clear as day in my head.

But despite being so close to it, I felt the book slip away as another, more muscular hand grabbed hold of it, leaving me hanging in the air.

I had somehow lost it before I even had it.

It was just a book, I remembered telling myself, but somehow, it always felt like more.