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DRABBLE MARATHON #13:
LEE CHAN (DINO) + library
Though quiet on most days, the library always came bustling to life sometime in the second half of the semester. Empty desks and beanbags became occupied by students who looked like they hadn’t slept in days – messy hair, bags under their eyes, and wearing hoodies that should’ve found their way into the washing machine ages ago already.
Frankly, you were no exception. Head heavy but heart racing as an after effect of too much caffeine, you too sat in the library with your laptop and a textbook you might as well have picked up for the first time in your life.
You were halfway done with your essay when you heard a familiar theatrical sigh.
When you glanced up, you found yourself smiling at Chan. He, on the other hand, looked almost annoyed to see your smile.
He slumped into the seat across from you, all but throwing his book bag on the floor, before glaring at you. His voice went up a pitch from his usual tone as he imitated you: “‘He won’t ask that on the exam~”’
His voice dropped to its normal range or even lower, “You little liar.”
You stared at him quizzically. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically before resting his cheek on the desk. “I took my biochem exam today.”
“Oh.” You struggled to find the words. “That was today?”
“You literally helped me make a study guide yesterday,” he whined, straightening up again. “Do you have a doppelganger or something? Was it a different (Y/n) in my dorm yesterday, with the highlighters and the kisses for the right answers?”
“No–” You took a moment to think about it, tilting your head. “No, I’m pretty sure that was me.”
He snorted. “I hope your essay’s going better than my exam.”
You could only sigh – it was all he needed to know exactly how it was going. His gaze softened, concern taking over.
“It’s not going, is it?” he gently asked, reaching across the table to hold your hand. “How long have you been writing?”
“I’ve been here since 11,” you responded and ran a hand over your face, resisting the urge to tug on your hair. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
He pouted. “Have you taken any breaks?”
“No time.”
“There’s always time for breaks,” he protested and got up to move his seat next to you instead, his hand never leaving yours. “How about we close your laptop and you lean on my shoulder and you take a quick nap?”
“You think that’ll help?” you wondered, eyes widening as you considered the possibility. He hummed and nodded confidently, already patting his shoulder to invite you to lean against it. Begrudgingly (not really, but you had to justify this procrastination episode somehow), you placed your cheek on his shoulder and closed your eyes. “Promise to wake me up in 15 minutes?”
“20,” he argued.
“15.”
“25.” You leaned your head up to glare at him but he only chuckled. “You look like a panda with those eye bags, sweetheart. Just sleep.”
You bit the inside of your mouth in thought, eyes narrowing before you leaned back into the previous position. “17 minutes.”
“Deal.” He smiled, victorious, and caressed your cheek with the bank of his hand. “Sleep well.”
