⟢ library.

@✧ seo aera Miyeon was so caught up in her own emotion, even if it was so tightly bottled up and her tears were flowing without a proper sound coming out of her. She had really thought she was alone and safe and free to cry until she felt a presence beside her. Miyeon instinctively turned around to face the woman, her hand smacking the stranger’s by accident. The handkerchief was knocked out and Miyeon quickly catched it. She was emotionally constipated but she wasn’t a full-on heartless to do this on purpose.

Even if she was fresh from crying, she attempted to keep up her cold front. Only this time it was faltering because of how recent her vulnerability was. The librarian’s eyes were bloodshot, there were even remnants of tear stains gently ruining her typically perfect foundation, that she would touch up later. Her nose and the flesh around her eyes were pink, and she knew that. Miyeon knew how she looked when she cried, she attempted to get used to “pretty crying” in front of the mirror as some strange muscle memory practice. All so that her mother wouldn’t fully scold her for crying anywhere because she was still the beautiful daughter she expected Miyeon to be. It did work, she looked like how actresses cried but the tears and emotions that came with her rare cry still stung like arrows in her body.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” She was far too exhausted to even be curt, especially to a stranger who was showing her support. It was a coincidence that Miyeon didn’t notice this person, they moved like a ghost, but she appreciated them. She would rarely have a companion or stranger help her when she was in tears. Granted, she even restrained crying near her friends and even with Haesoo herself (for other reasons) because she knew they were present. This person was sweet enough to offer a handkerchief without knowing Miyeon’s full history. Or she hoped she didn’t. “Thank you.” she said, dabbing the cloth at the corners of her eyes to keep whatever remains of her makeup intact.

Back to work, she thought, pushing the idea into her head quickly. Miyeon didn’t really want to stay by the wall of deceased librarians any longer, but she kept a gentle grip on the woman’s handkerchief. She moved towards her desk, grabbing the library book scanner. Her other hand tightened around the handkerchief as her emotions settled in her body again, but she forced herself to look at the young woman as the librarian sat at her usual counter. “Did you need any help borrowing a book?” This sentence was spoken with more remnants of sadness than when Miyeon had said sorry moments earlier.

She still wanted space to cry, but she had to put her feelings away in the little box as she had gotten used to doing.

@✧ rang miyeon Grief was something that Aera was familiar with. Too familiar with. And so, she knew it when she saw it, no matter how quiet or hidden it believed to be.

Grief was often stronger at night, where company left and people only had themselves. She knew, for grief haunted her in every step she made at home, where every single part of it had been touched by a beloved that she could no longer hear nor see. She knew, for she had felt so even in the safety that the library had always provided for her solace, though perhaps it was not to the extent of the librarian of the present.

While Aera had known the past librarian to a certain degree—another grandmother, as Haesoo would have said before—she was not as close to her, like she believed the current librarian to be. Aera's time with Haesoo wasn't as long, having only known the lady for two years, and even then, they hadn't talked much. (Aera had never been the one to talk much, she knew that even if she had been able to speak.) But time was nothing when it came to grieving, to attachments, and she could not imagine how the current librarian must feel, assuming that the latter had been with the former for many more years.

A heavy silence befell upon the library, and Aera had been on her way to where the librarian was, to hopefully borrow a book to take home for the night. Perhaps she had overstayed her welcome for the day. Her footsteps had been quiet as she neared the counter, but a quiet sobbing took her attention all too easily. Slowly, she walked toward the sound, and she paused upon the sight. Rang Miyeon, if she remembered the name correctly, having read it off the lady's I.D once. She had often seen Miyeon with the deceased older lady, and while she was not privy to what their relationship had been exactly, she knew the two to have been close, at the very least.

The sobs continued. Aera's gaze hardened, her eyes turning glassy—it reminded her of her own grief. Silent sobs in places where no one would see, where she had hoped no one would see. A heavy weight on the shoulders, as though they carried the weight of the world upon them. It had taken Rang Miyeon to put up a portrait of Haesoo; Aera could only wonder how long it'd take her until she finally swallowed the bitter pill of her grief, a death she refused to accept.

With steps as silent as a ghost, she stood by Miyeon's side, keeping her gaze at the portrait. With her phone in one hand, she used her other to hold a handkerchief toward the other lady. A plain white handkerchief, still clean, as though it hadn't been used at all today.

@✧ seo aera TW / Mentions of past death, grief.

The spring of 2021 and every spring season moving forward has always been a difficult period to pass for Gohyang’s main librarian. It was on that random spring night where she wanted some solace and companionship with her elderly friend did she find her collapsed on the ground and in need of medical attention. She was confirmed deceased by the doctors after the ambulance trip called by Miyeon herself. She hasn’t fully enjoyed every spring season since. Season of growth and hope, her .

It had been three years since the former librarian’s passing and Miyeon had been given space to grieve. Many citizens of the city had no idea how close they were, only a handful saw the vibrant but lonely little girl going to her favorite book-loving friend. And now, three years later and since that day she passed, they would see neither. The old librarian was gone from this world and Miyeon felt that she could never allow her old happy self to seep through the wall she had built for herself. It was that joyful naive girl that had let the world step over her, no matter how much people talked about how privileged she was.

“It was a privilege to be your friend, Haesoo.” The latest librarian wept softly, as the library had been dead quiet for the second half of the day. A few people had notified her that they were leaving a few hours ago and the blanket of night time had covered the city. She was alone, utterly and completely alone. The other photos of the past librarians (all kind and friendly women according to Haesoo, and all deceased since they were alive decades before Miyeon was even born).

Miyeon wiped off some of the tears that had dropped onto the glass of the picture of Haesoo. Sniffling, she hung it up on the little hook she had set up, right beside all the other librarians of this hallowed hall. She took a step back, quiet sobs becoming less and less quiet as they echoed through the library. At least she was alone, only in complete solitude could she allow herself to cry. Only her closest friends had seen her weep, back when she was fresh from Seoul and still emotionally vulnerable from the incidents that happened there. Her mother never allowed her to cry in public and she was mostly dismissive if Miyeon ever made the mistake of letting out a sob in front of the older woman.

She couldn’t look at the photo of Haesoo any longer, her eyes still overflowing with tears, and dropping to look at the small gold-plated metal placard underneath the frame. ‘Byun Haesoo, Head Librarian. February 20, 1946 - April 15, 2021. Rest In Peace.’ Even when she was alone, Miyeon was restraining herself from crying completely, even her sobs were being held back and was hurting from it.

“Ah, I really do hate spring.” she muttered, her voice sounding angry as she aggressively rubbed off falling tears from her cheeks.

@✧ seo minwoo Miyeon sighed deeply, sitting on a bench just outside the entrance of the library, her wet cardigan in hand. She was running her fingers through her now-damp hair as the firefighters arrived, one of the younger ones near her age approaching her. She didn’t know everyone in the fire department’s names, but she knew Minwoo from the calendar that Doyoon bragged about years ago. “Yeah, everyone’s safe.” she replied, sounding genuinely dispirited as she knew the books were not okay. She got up quietly, hanging her cardigan over her forearm as she stood beside the much taller fireman while he surveyed the surroundings with his co-firefighters. “It was my fault, I spotted a put-out cigarette near the heater. I don’t know how it got inside, we’re not allowed to smoke in here.”

“Thanks–” she mumbled, nodding at Minwoo and putting the jacket on. She didn’t realize how cold she was (in the winter no less) until she had on a warmer jacket than her now-scorched cardigan. ”I’ll bring up a replacement request to Taeya– to the mayor and the rest of the town hall.” She still sounded more sad than normal, at a level of gloomy that she disliked hearing from herself. She just didn’t like how all her hard work rebinding the books became soggy. Miyeon followed Minwoo’s instructions, picking up her bag which was thankfully under the front desk, and her wallet.

“I think I’ll just call you when there’s another fire. Or about the new heater.” she muttered, awkwardly trying to mirror Minwoo’s smile, and falling into her default uncaring face. The curse of her present-day more-automatic angry demeanor had setbacks, like the guilt she felt looking annoyed at visibly genuine people, so she’d try again. “Thanks, again.” Miyeon mirrored his smile, looking as awkward as ever and she watched the smoke clear out behind him, sighing at the sight.

@✧ seo minwoo No one would ever believe that a fire would start in the autumn season, much less the peak of winter. Miyeon would have had a story to rebut that immediately, since her workplace was the victim of a stray cigarette and her mild carelessness. Terrifying how an accident could happen at any time of the year. It all started like normal, a normal cold morning, a normal cranky Miyeon behind the counter.

“Yes, mother. I know. I’ll visit your friend next week, but no promises. You know I dislike her.” Miyeon grumbled into her phone, the device tucked between her shoulder and her cheek as she unlocked the door 30 minutes before opening. It’s 5:30am and the winter’s cold is biting at her neck, as well as everyone else’s. She’d see the early risers, usually the farmers giving their produce to the shops, other employees nearby setting up shop, all shivering. She pitied them as well as herself, sighing at the sight of her breath manifesting into chill-smoke as she nearly forced her way quicker into the library. She had not noticed that some of the older men, also early risers, were smoking and drinking near the library just to warm up. It was a typical way of warming up, she couldn’t blame them. All she had done to them was bow as she passed, they knew of her and she had to be polite. A careless move on her part, she should have shooed them away.

About an hour or so later, she was gathering some of the books she asked people to set aside if they noticed their binding was getting loose. Usually, she’d be checking on them and trying to restore the binding so the government wouldn’t need to pay for book replacements. If it’s not broken, don’t replace it, fix it. She had set out the books, printed words facing down and spines up, so that she could see what she needed to do. No one had really entered the library yet, 7:00 am would be zombie hour for many of the citizens, so she’d knock off some librarian tasks in the bright-yet-cold mornings. Just because of the temperature that was near unbearable for her, she turned the heater up to maximum. The incoming library goers would thank her, she hoped.

The very small fire started in the corner of the library, a cigarette that had rolled it’s way from an open window and much too close to the old, sparking building heater would be the cause of it. It had minimal smoke and almost no damage save for a couple of corners of the nearby tables. The real problem was not that Miyeon put it out before any fire damage by tossing her cardigan on it, a stupid move, but that she came almost a minute too late and the smoke had tripped the fire alarm. The sprinklers automatically and dampened many of the books that she had left on the tables, as well as her belongings. She was thankful she hadn’t the library computers yet.

So here she was, scrambling to the phone to call 119 for the fire department, but it was just too late. Her books were wet, her cardigan had a burned hole through the back, the heater was broken and needed to be replaced, and about four tables had scorch marks. All before lunch.