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Anxiously tapping on her tea, the girl in the library was awaiting for a potential customer’s next move.
Annie considers herself to be a normal woman. She recalls Enid from her old job talking to her about how library jobs are easy for neurodivergent people, blah blah blah—all that. She just would have never excepted how right her best friend was going to be. Most, no, all of her earlier jobs went downhill—really, really challenging jobs considering her fragility and social difficulties. And it was tough to keep up.
Luckily, Sadie’s got her back—Annie’s always found a sense of safety around women much older than her that had more experience in the workplace and teaches her the new things with nothing but kindness and caution instead of being harsh and difficult, and this was no different with her only coworker. It’s true, Sadie was gloomy sometimes, but she always means well.
Enid would come over sometimes to read some stuff here and there and Annie would scold her all the time, “If you wanna read it, then buy it,” which always resulted in answers of scoffs and sighs from her. Other times, she’d invite some of her friends.
She was familiar with a lot of them. There was the blue-haired Amy Poehler-looking pixie cut girl, bright and vibrant, kindergarten teacher, (surprising to no one) that was such a stretch from Enid’s cloudy and bad-tempered attitude. Annie often catches Sadie staring at her dreamfully.
There was Edward—Ed for short. They met online around 2011, Enid told her, both fanfiction writers and had a mutual love for psychological thrillers. Annie has talked to him a tad, but with not too many positive results, much to the point that Enid had to tell her about his interests because Ed was so embarrassed to talk about them with other people it was almost scary. But Annie could get through that, she’s been there. She’s seen him make a lot of progress with Sadie, though.
Out of all the people she knew, without a doubt, Exposed Nerve Boy was the one that peaked Annie’s interest most. His name is Fred, an extremely slim and tall posture, so much that she didn’t believe that a human being this tall could exist other than Enid. Exposed Nerve Boy was the nickname given to him by Sadie, given his long zany nerve-looking strand of hair on top of his head, and the two women have called him that since—so much that even Enid herself started calling him that, and Annie found seeing him this flustered over it kinda funny. And cute.
Annie87: Are you and Fred dating or something?
enid: dude… that’s my brother LMAO
The day Annie found out Fred and Enid are siblings through fucking Instagram out of all places, the more she felt ashamed of herself. This has become a running joke between the two. Well, on Enid’s side, at least. She’d tease her almost every day merely for thinking about that.
Which raised her a few questions; if they happened to not be siblings, why would Annie care so much whether they dated or not? “You know, if you have a crush on him or something you can tell me,” Enid had told her, but the thing is that Annie wouldn’t call it a crush.
She liked him. For sure. It was easy for her to like other people, or even just pretend to like them, just to fit in in the good ol’ society.
But… There was something different about Fred. As weird as this may sound, Annie had this thing where she studies the closest people around her, their mannerisms, and their interests. With this study, she’s found out she has at least one thing in common with her friends; Enid’s impatience, Joy’s love for comfortable armchairs, Sadie’s love for campy YA novels, and Emil’s embarrassment to do specific things in public.
The thing is, with Fred, she’s found more than one thing that she has in common with. It was surprising to her when she found out. Annie’s never found someone this similar to her, that shares so many traits as her: both were really cautious in general but most importantly with their words (They don’t want to unintentionally offend someone!), they were scared of almost their own shadow, something that Annie was made fun of since she was a little critter. It was nice to see someone who understood her struggles.
There were times that Fred came into the library alone, without Enid. Annie would take advantage of this to take a peek at his highly focused gaze in the psychology section. With a shared homemade cookie from her, they’d have a lengthy conversation about the human mind and she found out that he was interested in the psychology of dreams.
While Fred was mostly preoccupied about the present, Annie would worry about the future. She’d fill her mind with little, negatively life-changing paranoias; paranoias that prevented people to take her seriously and over the years became inflexible until the point the closest people to her told her to get checked.
Fred wouldn’t call himself a romance person. He’s had a few crushes in middle school, thinks Michael Cera is cute, but regarding relationships? Eh.
A friend from high school had told him about that Ashley Madison site before, but Fred didn’t feel like being a homewrecker at all. Crazy stuff.
When dating sites really became popular in the early 2010s, he said Fine, let’s give this a try, and finally gave in. His last known romantic interaction with someone was in 2012, with this one girl named Desiree. And Desiree was really pretty; Short, combed dark hair, long eyelashes full of personality and clear skin—a combo made in heaven. The same can’t be said for her personality.
The whole date had her always something to complain about; like how the place they were eating at didn’t clean the tables properly, or how the band playing very loud music nearby and the children crying and running around the restaurant gave her hyperbolically homicidal thoughts.
They went home and watched Mean Girls—the longest movie in the world. She fell asleep on his shoulder which was kinda cute at least. But they weren’t a good fit. That was a sign she liked him, but didn’t love him.
During her first date since… basically never, Annie started to panic. All of the what-ifs were all starting to appear in her mind. Again. Joy and Sadie reassured her and told her that it was going to be fine, it was a person she knew and was friends with for a bit, but the paranoia was too strong like it was for the other date.
His old pal Desiree had told him everything he needed to know. What she doesn’t know is that Fred is a 32 year old man with a stable job and he is certainly aware about the fact that during dates he needed to look handsome and smell nice and not take things too fastly. The only thing that concerned him is making her uncomfortable or being boring or not talkative.
Which wasn’t the case at all.
They went to a tiny little Parisian-like cafè that was Annie’s go-to; it makes her a little nostalgic because she remembers going there with her grandma as a child. She would always have strawberry jam filled croissants with orange juice, a childhood classic. Fred wasn’t one for french desserts, so he just got a regular coffee, like good ol’ fearful Fred always did.
If he was scared of not being talkative enough, he realized too late he’d be goddamn wrong. Annie has a habit to start talking too much when she gains confidence, which was a good sign, helping him slowly and slowly open up about even the most random stuff, like talking about the new Mad Max movie or just their mutual enjoyment of 80s new wave music. The girl’s wavy ginger hair gets snuggled up by the sunlight that passes through the glass of the windows; she was wearing a 50s polka-dot sundress that belonged to Joy.
The more he gets closer, the more he just wants her.
There were times she would surprise him with more cookies, sometimes a blueberry muffin. She’s heard him tell Enid that those were one of the few desserts he liked, and has—resulting in burnt ovens and shattered flour all over the floor— learned to make them with Joy since.
In the following months, it became a Friday evening ritual for the two to sip on teas and coffees and talk about tv shows or the books they were reading at the moment. It was a perfect occasion especially because the library was never particularly crowded in the evenings, and Annie had overcome this loneliness to share a tender moment with someone.
She’d notice changes in his behavior—the way he started to smile more when she came up to him, the way he gave her recommendations about things he’d think she would like, (“Annie, since you, uh, like The Moldy Peaches, check out She & Him. Zooey Deschanel plays in them! You know her, right?) and seeing her in everything he saw. Like when they were walking through San Francisco and passed by a flower shop and said, “That’s you,” while pointing at a bouquet of poppies, or thinking about her and Fred whenever she’d see orange and black cats.
Everything reminded her of him—on quieter days, where the anxiety grew and the melancholy started to get her, she’d think about him, her senses slowly overcoming.
They’ve been to each other’s place so much that they know it by heart at this point. Common details Annie started to notice was that she had a sugar bowl in her house, but Fred never used any sweeteners. Or that he had more books than she did, let alone a whole bookshelf. His room was so cozy and organized that Annie started growing ashamed of her own room. Yes, the mattress in his bed was less softer than hers, but it didn’t give her back aches like her bed used to do.
She’s really, really careful when it comes to touching him. To be fair, this is Annie, so she was extremely cautious when doing anything. Well, with Fred—she was more careful than with anyone. She could never let herself be an embarrassing freak in front of him, or make him uncomfortable in any way. Nope. Not now, not never. She’d just get really upset and would just ask before laying a finger on him anywhere (“Fred, is this good?” “This is okay, right?” “Mind if I hold your hand?”). Him and her friends helped her through this, and if they both weren’t in the mood to have any sort of physical touch, they’d be totally understanding of it.
After a while, sleeping on his bed gave her a warm sense of security, and she didn’t know whether it was for the difference from her super uncomfortable as old as the hills bed, or the idea she was going to wake up next to him the next morning.
If they notice each other’s qualities over the year, they learn to do the same with their flaws.
When something upsets Annie, her habit of shutting off takes all over, something that had to claw its way out of her chest before the relationship could get more serious. Fred called himself a coward for not being able to process the thoughts in his mind and not saying when something makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to be a burden to her.
She’d cry, and shake, she truly did not know what was wrong with her. Tell him that she cared for him and would never want to see him afraid of her. Annie didn’t want anyone, let alone him to see her as a bad example—and vice versa. He’d comfort and reassure her, heal her tears with his presence and whisper to her that it’s okay, we can fix this, we’ll change things.
Both knew they were troubled and “difficult” persons, hell, they knew since they were children. It’s still a surprise, to both of the two, that they found someone that could understand the other in such a deep and personal level, one that wasn’t scared of the other, and despite their troubles, there is always a way to fix something, and Fred and Annie found one—well, attended therapy sessions first of all. They also set healthy boundaries, with weeks of reassurance and comfort, to prevent the two to have anymore problems as those in the future.
In better days, she’d dream of bringing him breakfast to bed, be like those women in the magazines with unrealistically big breasts and perfect teeth, and wondered why she couldn’t be as pretty as them. But then, she looked at Fred, and wondered how lucky she was to have him.
In the beginning, when they hug, kiss, do literally anything that involves intimacy in some way, it was weird, but now they do it like there’s no tomorrow.
Majority of their leisure is spent like this; some hugs from behind from him or kisses on the cheek from her; or having deep or silly conversations whilst staring at the ceiling. Sometimes both with one of them being the asleep one afterwards. Months later, Fred would still think back on their first kiss. It was a bit awkward at first, with their different face shapes making it tricky to find the right position—but they managed to make it work in the end, and surprisingly, they both did pretty well for a first kiss.
Intimate moments were the same; she’d curl up to him like a lonely kitten, it was meaningful. Meaningful as in she can feel him. Meaningful as in he restores her blisses lightly, and she picks every flaw off him like petals of flowers. Meaningful as in Fred feels like ascending every time Annie does anything, and that they wasted all this fear for nothing. Well, if this was nothing, then they definitely were both lying.
At first, it’s an awkward move for the two, for sure, but then they get used to it. They get the time. They’ve improved as much as they can.
When they slide back down, they usually fall asleep, it’s a common and familiar thing for the two now. For a mere second, he studies her body. In the recent month, she’s complained about how much she hated her body. He never said anything about it, except developing a slow habit to kiss particular spots in her body she hated, like her stomach or, well, especially, her lips.
“I love you,” he finally tells her, between gentle kisses, shared soft words and a embrace, he gazes at her, “I love you… so much.”
She doesn’t know what to answer at first—yes, that’s her partner telling her he loves her, a word that she’s heard daily by now, and is supposed to find familiarity with it. But after such a personal moment like sexual intercourse, she becomes red like a strawberry and tries to avoid it.
“Ah— um… we both have work the day after tomorrow, and, uh, we should be prepared for the day before! You know, we should go to sleep…! Sadie will be so pissed—”
“I think it can wait,” He started to stroke her hands in circles, which flustered him a little before he could stop and realize what he was doing. She’s got an awkward smile going on, and as time goes by, she starts to understand his unusual calmness. She becomes more confident, turning her cringe smile into a confident, relaxed one.
“And I love you too.” She murmurs back, trailing a lazy hand in his cheek. He reciprocated the smile, confused but not disappointed. He was just lost on how monstrously adorable he was. Their lips met again, this time they didn’t even have to ask. He was careful with her, cuddling and stroking her just that led her to think Wow, I am safe, and she was always ready for his next move.
“Can we do this again?” Exposed Nerve Boy says to her softly through her skin, his voice barely a murmur. They’ve done this a dozen times, but it was still scary. She laughs. She also thinks it's a wonderful laugh. One that is low and sour, and very different from the young girl who strove to make everyone proud.
He laughs back, a different one from the weak boy he used to be as a child. Truth is that he still is.
She doesn’t answer immediately to his request; rather, she leans over him, getting snuggled like a bunny, then flexing her leg closer to him to let her know what she thought in a more interesting way.
This was going to be a long night.