Tables Turned PV Cain

What on earth was this princely looking boy doing here in the library with the book that Cain was looking for? He was watching him for several solid minutes, but each minute seemed to stretch on and on. It might have been longer than he thought, he didn't have a watch or anything. Cain had a whistle in his robes he planned on turning into a watch, though he really hoped it didn't sing at him. No, time stood still as he sat just a few seats and across the long table from where an older looking boy was pouring over a book he needed. Once he got an idea into his head, it was hard to change his course from achieving that goal. There were other books too of course, he had them in stacks around him like rising city skyscrapers.

Cain adjusted his glasses as he peered over the edge of a large and heavy hardcover, flinching slightly when the boy closed the book and struck it before opening it again. What was he doing? Was he mad at the book? His own gray-green eyes slid down to his notes on the table, hidden by his book. He was doing a small sketch of his prey, just his eyes and the intense look they seemed to get when they stared. They seemed either sad or tired, some mystery cogs turning away in the prince's wavy haired head about something or other. What else could he do while he waited for him to give up on reading it so that Cain could swoop in on it and find the information he needed about animagi. Even if he had to wait years, he'd make sure that he was prepared for the day. It was no small task.

Perhaps he was staring longer and less subtly than he'd meant to though, Cain was rereading the cover title again when he'd almost caught the boy's eyes. Had he? No. Oh no. He averted his gaze quickly, sinking behind his book and peering out again nervously. He hadn't noticed, right? His aim hadn't been to become a stalker but it was becoming more and more like that. If he was a stalker he'd have done a much better job! If he said something now it would be too late to smooth things over. Why didn't he just ask when he'd be done with that book like a normal wizard? No. He just had to avoid any social interaction, didn't he? He was staring again. Waiting to see if he was really caught, though his own intense staring was probably even harder to ignore now.

Pockets of shadows were burrowing into his face, and occasionally his blinks dragged on a measure too long. He was operating as though at an abnormal time signature, awkward beats of closing and pressing the book intervening with the otherwise steady rhythm of corrupting its formless contents with a glaze cast over the upper end of his tired visage. Periodically, the desk forced into focus, its water-driven warps rising to poke his corneas back into his skull. A divine punishment for misuse. His mother's spirit was hovering behind him, head lost in low-hanging, his humid cloud of self-awareness. Slim fingers massaged his shoulders, lulling his eyelids closed and breath at ease, trailing up his throat when the loving grip cocooned, constricted as a boa. He blinked, and that was merely his tongue daring to swallow itself. How very… eldritch.

Someone who spent the majority of their day with their eyes cleverly darting the accompaniment of their prospective loves came to easily recognize the bolts of electricity that shoot between the hairs on the back of your neck where a pair lingers. It became almost endearing, comparable to a hug from your father, the sentimental tracing of one's thumb upon your soft hand. Levi’s neck wouldn’t move from its position arched over the textbook, instead flashing his eyes up to scan the oft-vacant seats of the table. Empty, empty, empty, aha. A rampart of thick literature protected the identity of his observer, who peeked up for a mere half-second before anxiously burying themselves within the haven.

A muted sigh slipped through his parted lips, cool respiration lowering the increasing temperature of the Library. A faint whistle teased his exhale, the note overshadowed by the bland gush of air and its greater implications. Again, the boy shut the ocean, continents fitting together like puzzle pieces. Truth be told, it was a favor. To contain reality between two hardcovers was the best possible outcome, perhaps second solely to watching the troubled sea go up in oily flames. Tangle its creatures in plastic. This time, and only this time, he’d consider such a service to humankind. The rest of the time he’d advocate for meaningless things if it meant a glint of respect. The slow gruesome death of the ecosystem wasn’t a bother to him, so its renaissance couldn’t threaten worse. Apathy was such a pretty, lucky thing.

The wooden chair slid back on the hard flooring, complaining at the jerking movement. That was the lone portrayal of any negative emotion, as his following actions were performed in elegant glide as though mentally rehearsed numerous times before. Three chairs down in long strides for a short height, sliding the book along the surface with a polished lack of friction, then he was lowered again into a seat. In its entirety, the sequence looked like an unorthodox dance, the time signature still a risk for the mainstream universe, but a certain unexpected elegance made you ignore the off-beat bangs of the percussionist. A world doused in water should be thankful for any drum at all to dry its sins with clean, clear-cut pulsation.

Levi interlocked his hands on the table, sore red bands conspicuously heating his knuckles, as their irritated crimson shade was a flame against his elsewhere pale skin tone. His elbows were dropped beneath its edge, a demonstration of a formal raising. He wouldn’t attempt to pierce the barricade of books between them, nor peek at the flicker of white paper to be seen on the other side, but the Gryffindor did lower his head and speak softly, as if not to startle a skittish critter. “Can I do something for you, or just enjoying the view?”

His grip tightened on his quill when he heard the faintest scuff of the wooden chair, struggling to keep his eyes ahead of him and not turn to look at the one he'd been watching for probably the better part of an hour or more. Time lost all meaning in the library, if it meant anything at all in the first place. Cain couldn't resist using his peripheral vision at the very least to track the boy who was possibly leaving. No. He was coming closer and he wasn't sure which was worse or better. Suddenly he felt like he was in caged on the spot, trying to leave wasn't an option. He was caught.

But then he remembered the actual reason he's started staring at this regal young man in the first place. He casually shuffled a book over his errant drawings. Incriminating evidence. Cain turned to face him, there was just something about this other boy. He warranted full attention. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you or anything..." He trailed off when he saw his hands but returned quickly to his apology. "I was waiting for you to finish that book if you didn't check it out of the library." Cain adjusted his glasses, if only to avoid Levi's eyes for a moment. Then he placed his hand on the stack of books next to him. "I'm looking into transformation. Animagi specifically." The other hadn't asked about that, he probably didn't need to know or care about that. Cain wasn't sure why his nerves were increasing or why he was volunteering more information than his muse needed. In the horrible silence after he stopped talking, he took the few moments to over-analyze himself and return his gaze to those eyes. He could see them much better up close and he certainly wasn't memorizing them for later sketches. Definitely not. Was it weird? Maybe.
This boy just had a certain aesthetic look that he appreciated.