Work Text:
"So, you work at the library?" Santos said with disinterest while she tapped away on the keyboard. You folded the stack of forms you had collected from the mailbox of book wishes, as you liked to call it, and placed them into your bag before you answered.
"The public library mostly, and sometimes at the hospital library, when they need help," you explained in short, fully aware she was not really eager to make small talk. It did not bother you, people were different. That was the beauty in humanity.
She looked up from the screen and raised her eyebrows, "what would they need help with? Alphabetizing and categorizing?" Despite the mocking undertones of her words, you laughed, "yes, exactly."
Sometimes it was refreshing to talk to someone else who did not enjoy the same things as you did. It was a great way to gain perspective. To remind you of the many wonderful things that was in this world, to show how people can love differently, think differently — feel differently — learning of these perspectives was your favorite part of life.
The concept of bringing the library to the patients of Pittsburgh, was originally primarily focused on long-term patients. It was an initiative you had the honor to be a part of, bringing the beautiful world of books from the public library to those who were not able to seek it themselves.
The job consisted of distributing books to patients who wished for them, through filling out a form and putting it into one of the mailboxes scattered around. You went around to collect them, brought them to the library to find the books they wanted, and brought them back to distribute them — often as soon as the next day.
One time, you had the unfortunate luck of passing through the emergency room, and you could not help but notice how depressing it was. It really brought your spirits down, so, undoubtedly, it made everyone else suffer.
Your spirits were not easily shattered, some could even say they were unbreakable. Sky high. Always—almost. You were only human after all.
From there on out — after convincing the other associates of the initiative, and your boss at the library — you had made it your own personal mission to lighten up the place. Bring some joy to the temporary patients, as well as the more permanent ones upstairs.
Not to mention, hopefully you could bring some emotion back into the zombies that called themselves doctors and nurses.
It seemed it would kill them to smile. To laugh. Or even to eat. They were constantly miserable, by the looks of it. The lot of them.
A good fantasy book should cure that. Splash of color and they would be good. Honestly it appeared to have helped, at least a little bit and that made it worth it.
"Excuse me," a sweet looking girl tugged on the hem of your shirt to get your attention, "are you a real fairy?"
You turned around to the hopeful and bright eyes of what looked to be a five year old girl and crouched down to her level. A bright smile on your face as you met the pure soul in front of you, "who told you that?"
It was not really a question, there was only one person who walked around calling you a fairy. It would have been cute, had it not sounded more as an insult than anything. 'Little miss fairy' he had called you the first day you walked in to the emergency room. Apparently, he found the name addictive, or he simply enjoyed the blush that painted your cheeks, because ever since then…
The girl pointed a tiny finger to the culprit of your now confirmed suspicions. Robby waved from the doorway of a small family room, looking very pleased with himself. Of course he did.
"He said the pretty fairy would help me find a magical book," she shrugged, turning to face you again, "and you're the prettiest here."
You lifted your gaze back to the doorway, to find Robby not nearly looking as pleased anymore. Instead he appeared almost flustered, despite the sheer implausibility. It must have been the light.
Santos gasped beside you and pointed to herself, "what about me?"
"I guess you're pretty too," the girl knitted her eyebrows in concentration, like she was taking the time to analyze the features of the woman, "but you don't look like a fairy."
"Nah, you're right. Anyway," she shrugged with indifference and walked off, leaving you and the little angel.
"What's your name?" You asked her, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. She beamed and her dimples appeared right below the apples of her cheeks, "Willow, like the tree!"
"That's actually my favorite tree." A smile grew on your face as you saw the way her eyes lit up, like rays of sunshine reflected on a glimmering surface of a pond. Everything about the sweet child in front of you radiated an otherworldly balance.
Willow. Her name was like poetry in itself — a melancholic daydream — the epitome of reminiscence. A longing for something unknown, the heavenly kind of sadness. Two sides that cannot exist without the other.
There was no happiness without hurt, no love without hate. No beauty without death. That was the weeping willow tree.
"Really? Why?" Willow asked, her eyes widened with a pure curiosity you envied. There was a time when your eyes shone with the same insatiable hunger to learn, to explore the world.
"There was a huge willow by the lake where I grew up, I used to sit under it and read books for hours, it made me feel safe." A hazy memory painted your mind, of a time were stars were wished upon, when the world was colorful and dreaming was all there was to do.
"Did you not play with your friends?" Willow's soft spoken words drew your attention back to the present. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Robby stiffen against the wall he had leaned onto, like he was afraid that if he moved, you would not answer the question lingering in his mind as well.
You wondered if he would find a way to use it against you.
Like that time you had barely started your work day and everything had already gone wrong. Coffee was spilled on one of your favorite books, your overalls had gotten a paint stain on them — though, that one was unavoidable, paint was everywhere in your home — and then the container of beads for the friendship bracelets you were making, had tumbled from the table.
Cleaning that up was a nightmare. You would undoubtedly find beads everywhere for the next few months, yet you were thankful it was not glitter. That would have been worse. The wonderful ethereal sparkles had to be some sort of devils work. Though, you supposed all beautiful things came with a curse.
The first thing Robby had said when he saw your unusually grumpy face when you walked in was; 'what, did the other fairies leave you by the stream?'.
You blinked to rid the memory painting your mind, and then shrugged, "not really, I didn't have many friends, that's why I love books so much."
"So, you are the book fairy," she proclaimed victoriously, followed by a sweet melodic giggle that could cure all hopelessness in the world. It certainly filled your heart with hope.
After writing down her book wishes with the colored pen of her choosing, which was green, you led her to the pastel yellow mailbox with white flowers painted on it. Capitalized letters adorned the lid in the same colored paint, reading 'BOOK WISHES'.
It had taken you two hours and four glasses of wine to paint it, but it was worth it, seeing it on the wall. It really lit up the sterile, headache-inducing, fluorescent energy that was the entire hospital.
Beside it stood Robby with his arms crossed and a gleam in his eyes. Not at all like the bright twinkle of starlight that was in Willow's, his was mischievous.
He had likely placed himself there knowingly, and despite preparing yourself on the small walk over, your breath hitched.
Robby had a way of sucking out the sunshine in your heart and increase the tempo of the beats instead. It was like his presence absorbed the air out of every room, out of your very lungs. You could not breathe around him.
Your heart was a peaceful pond, undisturbed and still, of sincerity and wonder. He was the north wind, cold and harsh. The stormy seas. So different, yet it filled you with intrigue. It was infuriating at the same time.
"You found her," he said with a smirk as Willow bounced over to the mailbox. You rolled your eyes, though the smile was still bright on your lips. Robby reached a hand beside him to hold open the lid as she dropped the piece of paper into it.
"She is pretty," Willow whispered out loud to him like it was their secret, "you should kiss her, on the lips." After adding the last part, she clamped a hand over her mouth and giggled.
The blush painting your cheeks was furious and burning. Robby's gaze flickered to you for a split second before landing on the floor.
"Oh–kay," he clapped his hands together and exhaled, "let's go find your parents, come on."
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The shift at the hospital library had dragged on. The towering stacks of medical books seemed never-ending, and putting them away required ladders and endless patience. Thankfully, you had the former.
One moment of carelessness, one inattentive step and, well, at least the work day was over.
"Shit!" You yelped as your foot slipped on the ladder.
The heavy leather bound book flew from your outstretched hand, and through the executive decision issued by the panicked state of your mind, you reached out for it instead of holding on to the wooden handles of the ladder. Perhaps not your brightest moment.
The beautiful gold letters on the worn leather cover glinted like stars in the air above you. Hauntingly. And still, your thoughts raced with concern for the book, even as your hands only gripped air and your feet levitated.
Like flying — only falling.
The shelves you had climbed stretched and grew taller over you.
What goes up, must come down, right?
Though, you had hoped it would be a little more graceful than the echoed thuds of the book first slamming into your head, followed by you slamming onto the floor.
Thankfully, your embarrassment ended there, as the curtain closed and the world faded to black.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
"Hey," a deep voice called through the haze of your mind. You blinked against the bright light of the sun, no, it was not the sun. It was a flashlight.
"Little fairy forgot her wings, huh?" A click turned the light off, and you sighed with relief. Robby stood over you with a stupid looking smile on his face.
The words echoed with the pounding in your head, but you could not manage to bite back.
“How bad is it?” You muttered as white flashes of burning pain hit you again, you squeezed your eyes shut to keep the room from spinning. It did not work. Perhaps you were spinning. That would make sense.
“Really bad, might have to chop off your head.” Robby replied flatly, keeping his voice steady. He even deadpanned in case you decided to open up your eyes and see his face.
It would not do you any good to see the panic that flared in him.
“I hate you,” you managed to grunt between heavy pants. Your lungs ached, like a blazing fire, desperate and insatiable. Greedily demanding more air than you managed to swallow.
The world tilted as your head was pushed backwards, to rest on something soft. Plush. Warm. Perhaps a pillow, perhaps a mossy meadow.
Although your eyes were closed, there was a growing darkness looming around the edges of your vision. It seemed friendly, despite its somber essence. You could feel a faint warmth inside, like it was buried deep, caged away and protected by the unforgiving coldness. A truth untold and unspoken — a secret spark of hope, of longing, of everything that could be a weakness — and hidden out of desperation.
Somehow it felt familiar.
“Yeah, why don’t you tell me all about it, little fairy, come on.” The darkness spoke in the distance. Hastily, frantically. Was it worried?
You could not tell, yet you understood as the spark grew to a flame, erupting from the depth of the darkness. A blinding light of emotion. Like Pandora's box, only this chaos was a wonderful rush of something else entirely.
The roaring in your ears sounded like a mighty waterfall, thundering as it fell onto mossy rocks. Flowing into a glimmering river, reflecting the setting sun. A river of pure starlight, a stream reflecting an entire galaxy.
It whispered an enchanting melody. A song of promise, of hope and wonder. It echoed in your veins, a beckoning for your soul. For your heart.
Iridescent drops of mist trickled down your face, like pearls of silver. The drops of starlight decorated your hands, and you watched in awe as the droplets turned golden in the orange hues of the sunset.
As the sky darkened, gold turned to bronze. Then, the pearl turned rusty, the vibrant metallic bronze dulling to a brown, before flushing crimson.
Blood.
The awful fluorescent lights of the emergency room came into view as you woke up again.
"Robby?" The name had spilled from your lips without your consent. Your mouth was like a desert and your voice croaked, but the pounding in your body was worse. You reached out, for what you did not know, but a hand took yours. A heavy and warm hand, an anchor.
"Right here," he said, from somewhere around you. The last thing you could make out before the darkness claimed you again.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
"There she is," Robby stood at the edge of the bed, holding what looked to be a patients charts, "how's your head?"
"Throbbing?" It sounded like a question, but it was the best you could manage. You blinked, adjusting to the brightness of the ceiling lights as you scanned your surroundings. Emergency room, hospital bed. The memories came rushing back and you flinched.
"Yeah, that happens," he chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly. You watched Robby as he stepped around the bed to your side, your brows furrowed in confusion hearing the sound. Was that a laugh?
"But seriously, don't ever do that again," he raised his eyebrows expectantly, "understood?"
You nodded as much as you could manage, "why, were you worried I'd leave you to wallow in your own despair?" His face twitched with something you could not make out, and before he could tell you all about it, which was definitely something he would do, the hasty footsteps of a girl claimed your attention.
Willow, you remembered, from earlier. There were tears in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks like shooting stars. Her dimples were nowhere to be seen. Behind her was a lady, her mom by the looks of it. A spitting image, only the eyes were deeper, more sunken. She had seen more, witnessed more of the cruelty of the world.
"What are you going to do now?" Willow sobbed from the doorway, "you can't fly!" The laugh erupted from you before you could stop it, and you flinched from the flares of pain it caused.
"It's not funny!" She stomped, obviously very upset seeing the state of you. It was adorable, and truly heartbreaking at the same time.
"No, it's not," Robby shook his head, looking at you with disappointment, "you can't fly, so I guess you're not a fairy anymore." Oh, stupid man. Stupid, stupid, stupid man.
"No!" Willow screamed, hysterically sobbing into her mothers arms. You glared at Robby, weighing your chances of punching him in the arm, yet you decided against it. The little girl had enough dreams shattered for one day, you did not need to add a bad influence on the list of disappointment.
"Hey, Willow," you said sweetly, beckoning her over with a wave of your hand, after she calmed down enough to look at you without breaking down. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt, sniffling, but shuffled her little way over.
"Do you want to know a little secret?"
She nodded, though hesitantly, and sniffled again. You smiled softly and leaned closer to whisper the secret into her ear.
Willow gasped, her eyes wide with shock and a glint sparkled in them again. You nodded in confirmation, and watched with awe as the joyful smile grew on her face. Those small looks of pure hope, of admiration and wonder, that was what made life worth living.
She jumped in excitement before dashing out of the room, so fast even her mom could not follow.
"What did you do?" Robby asked, scratching the back of his neck as the guilt of nearly destroying the little girls dream crept up. He really should have known better, he was too focused on you, on finding a way to make fun of you, that he did not think of the consequences.
"Magic," you shrugged weakly and smiled. He huffed, though a small curve tilted his lips.
Then he took the time to explain what had happened and what they did to treat you and what you were to do forward. Very clearly, he made sure of that. Still, he managed to find a way to sneak in a 'little fairy' insult here and there.
And soon, you could get back to work.
Soon, hopefully, without Robby's eyes following you every time you move.
That did not happen. You should have known, the man was stubborn.
Lifting a book, Robby was there to take it from you. Talking with patients, helping them fill out the forms, his eyes was fixed on you the entire time. Eventually he even lifted the lid of the mailbox and took out the forms himself, before giving them to you. Because you were to weak to do that. He essentially did your job for you.
It was one of those days, when you could feel his eyes trailing you around.
"You write the name of the book and the author, along with your patient number," you explained with a bright smile, pointing to the different sections on the sheet of paper you were holding in front of the patient, "and either give it to me when I'm here, or you can put it in the yellow box by that big board over there."
She followed your pointed finger and nodded as she located the pastel yellow mailbox with white flowers painted on it.
The sound of footsteps caught your attention, to the doctor striding toward the very hospital bed you were standing by. Your eyes met and you swore he smirked. Smirked. This could not be good.
"How's your head?" Robby stopped right next to you and flipped through the patients files. His shoulders were brushing yours, sending shivers of annoyance down your spine.
At least that was what you told yourself.
"My head feels fine, thank you for asking." The woman on the bed in front of you, Anna, beamed, lifting a manicured hand to brush a strand of grey hair from her face. Her fingernails had been painted red, thanks to one of her grandsons 'many colorful ideas', as she had told you after you complimented them. Her eyes had shone with pride and it gave you a newfound appreciation for life.
"I should hope so," the man beside you said, pointing to the cast stretching the entire length of her leg.
She laughed, loudly, and you could not help the smile growing on your face. She was likely high off her ass on pain medication, but still, her laugh was like a meadow of flowers. Swaying in the wind to a music you could not hear, but still could not help but sway in time with.
Robby gestured to you with a small gleam in his eyes, "I was asking our magical book fairy over here." Of course he was.
He simply savored the reaction on your face as he called you names, loved seeing you squirm whenever he commented on something. It was not that it bothered you, hearing him call you all possible versions and variants of ditzy fairy — what bothered you was the way he seemed to enjoy it — like it satisfied him to see your cheeks flush every time.
"Why? What's wrong with your head?" Anna asked you as soon as she managed to draw a full breath. The joyful expression accentuated the many beautiful lines on her face, and you just knew she lived a life full of love and happiness. It was the dream you wished for. The life you wanted.
"I'm fine," you tried to brush it off with a shrug. With the hope of looking indifferent. To not reveal the embarrassment you could feel creeping up your face. Yet, you should have known the man beside you would find a way to do exactly that.
It was pointless, trying to fight it. The blush was a permanent addition to the color of your cheeks when he was around. A tattooed proof of his effect on you.
"Little miss fairy forgot her wings while she was putting away her books," he tried to hide his satisfaction by flipping the pages he was reading through a little faster, though he only looked more so, "she got a concussion and had to get stitches."
"Did he kiss your head all better?" Anna laughed so hard she had tears streaming down her face. In your peripheral you could see Robby smiling, drinking in the growing redness on your face.
A glance was all it took. One simple look at your face and his smile broke through, the gleam in his eyes lit up even brighter. It was like he could not help himself.
Your lungs burned, ached for a breath you could not draw as he stood next to you. It was like he absorbed every ability you needed to function. All that was left was the thundering beat of your heart and feverish skin. It was dizzying, being around him.
He was well aware. It was his favorite sight, as he had come to learn. The pink apples of your cheeks. The excessive chewing on your bottom lip as your eyes darted to the floor. He savored the glares you sent him, only him. You did not glare at anyone else. However, he did not smile so much around anyone else, either.
In that regard, you were the same.
"No," you turned to face him, having enough of his torment, "is that why my head still hurts? Because you didn't kiss it better?" You added a pout, really selling the illusion of the helpless fairy he thought you to be. He stared at your pouted lips without replying, lost in whatever insult he was likely thinking about.
So, you tried to put on your sweetest smile, though it was a little tilted — the wrong way — and turned on your heel.
Air, you needed air. Had they cut oxygen out of the budget, or what?
"She's a pretty peach, isn't she!" Anna's voice trailed after you as you walked away. The loud giggle that followed calmed your nerves a fraction, yet the roaring of your pulse remained in your ears. You could barely make out Robby's reply with the growing distance between you.
"She's something."
You had not even made it across the emergency room before he was there.
His hand firmly gripped your wrist as he pulled you after him, up the flights of stairs, all the way to the rooftop. Despite the ragged breaths and burning muscles in your thighs, you were thankful.
The silence of an elevator ride would have been suffocating and nauseating. You did not trust yourself to not punch his face in, or keep yourself from fainting in the small space next to him. Which would have been bad, made everything worse for you.
He was an overprotective piece of infuriatingly bewitching annoyance.
The door slammed closed behind you but Robby did not stop. He dragged you with him to the other side, navigating through the ventilation system of massive whirring fans and thick metal pipes.
At last, you came to a halt by the railing. Hidden from the world, yet atop of it all the same. The bright hues of the setting sun painted across the sky like pastels on a canvas. Clouds danced across the horizon with the wind, creating graceful swirls of velvety foam. A slight chill accompanied the eerie silence in the air. Waiting for the darkness that was the night.
Robby turned to face you, his eyes focused on your face as he searched for answers, "you're angry with me, why?"
"I'm not," you swallowed, looking away from his burning gaze. The lie tasted wrong on your tongue, like a metallic tinge of guilt. That was what it was — guilt.
You felt guilty for lying, though not as much as you felt guilty for letting yourself lie. It was something you never did, never wanted to do. A vow you had made with yourself, for yourself.
The world was cruel enough already.
Your wish of making it a better place crumbled in your hands with every dishonest word falling from your lips.
"You are, I can tell," he stepped forward, closing the distance between your bodies. Waves of warmth flowed from his body to caressed yours, igniting shivers that trailed down your spine. Your breath hitched as the scent of him mixed with yours. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides, like he was keeping himself from reaching out. To touch you — or to hurt you — it did not matter. They were perhaps the same.
Everything about him was a threat to you.
"Just tell me, put me out of this misery, please." The soft pleading of his voice pushed you over the edge. Silence erupted between your ears, like a volcano of secrets buried deep within you, yet it made no sound as it pillaged through your mind. The meadow of wildflowers you had carefully grown, withered with every passing heartbeat you spent with the man in front of you.
Honesty wrapped a hand around your throat and whispered deceiving sweet melodies laced with threat.
"I'm angry because you make me feel like I can't breathe, I can't think. You make me feel hopeless and scared, and it's terrifying," the force of your words hit him in the chest, yet your voice was low and soft, quiet. Like the message was not even for him to hear, it was a secret you had not even admitted to yourself.
Your eyes watered as Honesty choked the air out of your lungs, and your voice broke from the pressure, "it's like there is no happiness around you."
Robby stilled in front of you, a statue of somber, though his eyes were soft. A gateway to the soul, a mirror revealing the depths of his being. Pity, sadness, loneliness, despair. Yearning, longing, hope. Hope.
A tear fell down your cheek as you met his gaze, "I can't see the wonders of the world, or enjoy the dreamy colors of a sunset, because all I think about is you, and I hate you for it."
"Hate me all you want, I don't care," he spat the words and looked away. He could not bear your sparkling eyes focused on him. The weight of knowing he made you feel hopeless and scared crushed him to pieces.
"Then why are we here?" You whispered, watching the muscles in his jaw tick in the golden light of the sunset. The white coat hanging from his broad shoulders and the sun-cast glow of his skin made him look ethereal. An angel. Soft and real. A new and unseen version of him stood in front of you, one of honesty and vulnerability. One capable of being loved and desired, and perhaps one capable of doing the same.
Robby ran a hand down his face as he turned to you.
"I'm sorry I fell in love with you, but I can't do shit about it," he confessed frantically, the pressure of everything weighing on his chest exploding, "and, I can't seem to be away from you without being worried sick to my stomach, so I don't know, okay?"
He breathed heavily, finally looking you in the eyes, "you tell me."
The world stopped spinning. A thick silence stretched like a heavy blanket across the earth. No sound could be heard except the beat of your heart. Thundering in your ears.
Even the man in front of you stilled, frozen by the words hanging in the air between you. As if it dawned on him now, what he had said. What he had laid out before you.
The fate you held in your hands.
"What?" You whispered the word, searching his face for the usual glint of mischief. There was not a trace of it. Nothing but him. The real him.
Vulnerable and scared, and honestly so.
He shook his head slightly, closing his eyes as he tried to pull himself together again. You could practically see him building up his walls, caging himself back in.
"I'm not saying it again," he sighed and looked up to the sky. His hands grabbed the railing, gripping so hard his knuckles turned white. As if he was forcing himself to stay, to face the consequences of his own actions.
For once, Robby did not want to run away from his problems — for once he wanted to stay, to face it — to face you as you held the fate of his heart in your hands.
With a shaky breath, you stepped up beside him and took a hold of the cold metal railing.
"Okay," you said softly, the final acceptance. You admired the colors painted across the horizon. He turned his head to look at you, quiet, simply watching you as the moments passed and sky darkened to twilight.
You placed your hand on top of his and without thinking, he turned it to interlace your fingers.
"We're still at work, you know," you broke the silence and turned to face him, smiling sheepishly. His hand was heavy and warm in yours, the butterflies in your stomach reappeared for the first time since you could remember.
Perhaps the darkness of him did not crush the sunshine of your heart. Maybe he was the other half of the balance. There was no light without dark.
No hope without fear.
Maybe, there was no him without you.
"In a minute," he muttered, before cupping your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours.