Chapter Text
The staff lounge always smells like banana milk. The scent swirls around, or maybe curdles, considering that it is milk. Either way, it makes Juhoon feel sick. The walls are covered in corny inspirational wall art, labor law posters, and drawings little kids had made for the employees that they would feel bad about throwing away.
Mrs. Amy sits down and pats the chair next to her, an invitation. Juhoon carefully sits, wondering why they needed to be in the library’s staff lounge just for them to talk.
Mrs. Amy is a quiet, caring woman, but she can be intense when she wants to be. Juhoon sometimes thinks that she cares more about the organization of the bookshelves than her own family. She always smells like fruit and coffee, a strong combination that disorients Juhoon. Occasionally, she’ll show him new stamps she’s collected. He likes to think it’s her opening up to him, because admittedly, in the months he’s volunteered here, she’s kept her distance.
She laces her fingers together on the table in front of them. “We are getting a new…volunteer. He’s the same age as you, so I want you to…guide him, I suppose. Show him the ropes.”
“I thought you weren’t taking anymore volunteers.” His brows furrow.
Mrs. Amy clicks her tongue. “He’s not volunteering, necessarily. He’s doing his community service hours here.”
Juhoon tilts his head. Community service. Meaning, this guy got in trouble. He got in trouble, got sentenced to community service, and now Juhoon has to babysit him.
Juhoon narrows his eyes. “What did he do to get community service?”
“He graffitied a few train cars.” She sighs. “Nothing terrible, but he still needs to be punished.” Ms. Amy unlaces her fingers. “I think you would be a good influence on him. You’re polite and intelligent. I think he could learn something from you.”
Juhoon distantly wonders what he’ll be like. He probably hasn’t touched a book in years. Maybe he’ll even try to vandalize the library.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
Juhoon shakes off his growing dread at the prospect of this guy being around him four days a week.
“When does he start?”
“Monday.”
…
Martin barely makes it on time.
He knows that if he’s ever late, he could get saddled with even more community service. 75 hours. He acknowledges the fact that he could have gotten way more, but it’s still annoying. Out of all the places he could do his community service at, they pick a library. He’s going to spend all summer shelving books.
(Secretly, Martin’s grateful for the library. It was either that or mowing the cemetery lawn twice a week.)
He walks through the front door of the library. There’s another door to the right that leads to the kid’s books section. A giant giraffe chair peers back at Martin through the window. He glances past the giraffe. There’s a boy, reading a book to a group of kids who sit around him on a rug.
Martin vaguely remembers that he once was one of the kids on the rug. He would never pay attention to the story, unless it was a picture book. If it wasn’t, he would draw on his arms until an adult told him to stop.
He looks away and starts up the ramp leading to the main level.
The first half of the ramp’s walls have art obviously made by children, apparent by the handprint turkeys that haven’t been taken down in the month it’s been since November. The second half features pieces from local artists, with a long mural at the turn in the ramp. Martin walks slowly to admire all the artworks.
Okay, he’ll give the library credit for that.
The main level has blue carpet, three-foot-tall bookshelves, and a huge skylight. The beams of sunlight put the specks of dust in the air on display, making it feel like an old memory. To the right is the teen section. There’s a large world map pinned to an even bigger bulletin board. To the left is the check-out counter. The librarian sits there, nose-deep in a book. Past the counter are two rows of computers, a handful of patrons hunched over their screens.
Martin walks up to the librarian, taking note of the guinea pig cage by the counter. How is a library allowed to keep guinea pigs?
He almost runs into the counter, too busy gawking at the tiny animals. They ran to the corner of their cage when he went past.
Martin stops right before colliding with the desk. The librarian looks up at him, gaze too high for her to be looking through her glasses.
“Hi. I’m here for my community service hours.”
Martin tries to keep his voice level. He doesn’t want to be rude to the librarian, but she can probably still sense his annoyance from here. He knows has no one to be annoyed at but himself, but that just annoys him further.
That night, when he’d gone out to the train yard, he hadn’t planned on graffiting anything. But, he had needed an outlet, and the spray paint cans in his backpack were only half-empty.
When life gives you lemons…
She looks up from her book. “Ah. Martin, right?” He hurriedly nods. “I’m Ms. Amy.”
Ms. Amy holds out her hand. Martin shakes it. He notices that she smells like coffee.
“One of the volunteers will be showing you the ropes. He’s your age, so I’m sure you’ll get along well. He should be downstairs in the kid’s area.”
Martin soon enough puts the pieces together and realizes that the boy who was reading to those kids earlier is the volunteer that Ms. Amy was talking about.
He looks like the type of kid who would willingly volunteer at a library. He only says a few parting words to the children once he’s done reading the book to them. His expression is completely blank as he puts the storybook back on the shelf, no doubt in the exact right spot.
Martin waits by sitting in the giraffe chair. Fitting, he supposes. The boy walks right past him, and Martin scrambles to follow.
“Hey. You’re supposed to show me what to do.”
The boy stops at the ramp and turns around. This is when Martin realizes the height difference. He stands almost a head taller than this kid.
He looks up at Martin. The latter feels this weird sensation in his chest as he looks into the shorter boy’s eyes.
“Are you the boy who is doing community service?”
Martin bristles. Shoves his hands in his pockets. “...Yeah. Ms. Amy told me that you would show me what to do.”
The boy gives a small sigh. “Right. I’m Juhoon.”
Martin raises an eyebrow. “Wow. So welcoming.”
“What else were you expecting?” Juhoon’s eyes bore into him.
Martin shrugs. “Dunno. Just some more hospitality. Maybe ask what my name is too?”
“I already know your name. And I’m not sure if someone like you deserves hospitality. ”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Juhoon raises a brow. “You’re a troublemaker.”
Martin laughs, but it sounds more like a scoff. “It was graffiti. No one got hurt.”
“Things like that could go on your permanent record. Do you just not care about your future?”
Martin scoffs and shakes his head. Who does this kid think he is? “I’m not here to argue with you. I just want to get my hours over with as soon as possible.”
Most people immediately assume the worst of Martin. He was stupid to think that this boy would be any different.
Juhoon purses his lips, appearing like he wants to say more. It’s hard for Martin to take him seriously like this, with the height difference and Juhoon soft features, despite the deep scowl etched on his face now.
He sighs. “Come on.”
…
Martin had proved useful for something, at least. He could reach the high shelves that Juhoon can’t.
For Martin’s first day of community service, Juhoon gave him a tour of the library and showed him how the books are organized. Martin went through everything with a bored look on his face.
Juhoon is attempting to read a book in bed, but he can’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance anytime his mind wanders off to the blond boy. And his mind won’t stop wandering. Juhoon doesn’t know why he is still thinking about Martin, and he doesn’t want to confront that question.
It’s just…the way he spoke about his community service hours…It all seems so careless to Juhoon. How can he not care about his record? His future? While Juhoon’s spent the past six months agonizing over his own?
Juhoon entertains the idea that maybe Martin doesn’t have much of a future. Maybe he doesn’t do well in school (Juhoon feels as though this is likely) and college isn’t in the books for him. That way, it wouldn’t matter if he’s irresponsible.
Juhoon hears himself. Realizes that he’s probably being close-minded. He knows, like, two things about this guy.
He’ll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.