The pile was so high now, I had to look past it to see where I was going.

I always ended up doing the same thing. I went to the library to get one or two books about pottery in the search of new techniques and inspiration, but left with an entire pile. Who knew there were so many fucking books about pottery? The funny thing was, I went through all of them within a week and had to come back for more.

I always found it strange to be in libraries. I knew at least some people would recognise me; statistically, they should and also, I saw how they cast weirded-out glances at me. Luckily, they were too distracted by seeing a porn star out and about, in a library nonetheless, to notice the books about pottery which I was grateful for as it was so important to me to keep that aspect of my life to myself. Some people did, of course, find my huge pile of books eye-catching and would look at the titles to see what I was all about, then raise an eyebrow, but they clearly didn't know who I was so I didn't mind, really.

I was hoping that at least one of the books held some inspiration of how to make more complicated vases. I had tried loads of different patterns and shapes over the years, but none of them had been truly challenging to me.

I wonder what Izuna does in his spare time.

I didn't really know where the thought came from all of a sudden. He had had a tendency to do that ever since I met him... Just slip into my mind, all of a sudden. What did he like to eat? What countries had he seen? What were his dreams and ambitions?

I thought about the party last night. Roland, my manager, had told me he knew Izuna would be there. Or, at least that he was invited. I had looked all over for him, and not discretely. Actually, I had walked around the place going 'Have you seen Izuna? Have you seen Izuna?' for the first full hour. Finally, I gave up, found a girl, made out with her until she invited me home.

I thought about the girl, what I had truly felt about her. Nothing, really. I didn't usually feel things about the girls I slept with. It hadn't bothered me before. Now, however...

Suddenly, I stopped dead in the library.

I stopped dead and I stared.

On my way to checkout, I'd walked past one of the glassed-in study rooms. And lo and behold; there he was.

He was sitting at the table, writing something in a notebook, deep in thought. He had a large, black band T-shirt with an octopus; Red Hot Chili Peppers, I read, and his hair was fastened on his head with a large, black clip with rhinestones. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that made him look painfully intelligent, which I suddenly realised he might as well be. His lips were glistening; I saw a chapstick next to his notebook he had clearly been using excessively. He looked at the computer screen, wrote something down, looked back up, frowned, scratched something in his notepad, wrote again. He took a book up and turned to a page he seemed to know by heart, looked up a paragraph, wrote again. He was so focussed, I suspected only an earthquake could wake him up from his thoughts.

I wish I were that earthquake.

Another thought I wasn't prepared to think.

I stood and looked at him stupidly for a while until I finally realised that standing and staring at someone in a library was weird. What was I going to do? I wanted to talk to him so badly. I had missed him. Actually missed him. I couldn't remember last time I missed someone that wasn't my cat.

I didn't know if I ever had.

Had it been a girl, I had known exactly what to do, and I would have done it. I would have opened that door, sat down next to her, close enough so they'd known I was interested but not close enough to scare them off. But he wasn't a girl. He was something else entirely and I wasn't used to it. It fascinated me how engrossed he was in his daily life. I was afraid that if I went in there and showed interest, he wouldn't take the bait if he deemed his studies were more important, no matter how badly he wanted me. I found that incredibly intimidating for some reason.

Suddenly, I saw him do what I always did, but whereas I did it on purpose, he clearly didn't even think about it. He started playing with his tongue piercings. I was still in shock about him having two, owning me, but the fact that he subconsciously played with them made me go mental.

I had to close my eyes as I couldn't stand seeing him like that. Not when I couldn't go in.

I turned and I left.

The sensation of the wet ceramics beneath my fingers was as soothing as ever.

I leaned forwards, feeling the beginning of a pain in my neck; I was sitting badly again. But I couldn't stop or the shape would be destroyed.

I had been lucky; one of the books held information about several techniques that were new to me, and I had gotten to work that same night, in dire need of distracting my mind as masturbating three times hadn't helped. But of course, it didn't work. I could, unfortunately, do pottery and think about him at the same time because I was Not Like Other Guys.

My mind kept going back to his little face, deeply engrossed in his notebook. Who knew he studied? I chastised myself; why wouldn't he? I couldn't have prejudices about porn stars like that! I was one, and I had a college degree! My hair fell into my forehead and I blew it away, frustrated, which of course made my fingers slip so I made a mistake in the shape. I sighed, started thinking quickly about a way to fix it while going. I wondered what his reaction would have been if I had come in. Would he have been happy to see me? Would he smile? Or would he be shocked? Shy?

You can find out.

I suddenly stopped, removed my hands, stared straight out. I turned off my pottery wheel; this thought needed my full attention. I could go back to the library tomorrow and hope he was still there, I knew.

I looked over into the corner where Betty was snoozing. Ageing suited her, I thought; she got more and more beautiful each year.

"What the fuck do I do now?" I asked her.

She cast half an eye on me, licking her lips; it was dinner time soon. You me, that's what you do now, you motherfucking skanky whore, she would say if she could speak. But I still needed to process this. The thought had planted itself in my head and I knew it would be impossible to get it out until I acted on it. I sighed, stood up to feed Betty first and then make some pasta salad for myself (sod put your mask on first before helping your children and all that). I ate, still deep in thought. I considered having a shower before bed to cleanse my thoughts but decided against it, preferring my showers in the morning. I went to bed, tossed and turned, couldn't sleep. I wondered if he was in bed now. I checked my phone; midnight. If he was a university student and had classes tomorrow, he should be in bed. Or maybe, he couldn't sleep either? Was he thinking about me? I thought back to his focussed face in that library room, his glistening lips. He hadn't looked like someone who thought about someone else. He had looked like a student who was focussing on his studies.

I got up, took a sleeping pill, leaned my hands against the counter, sighed, went back to bed, tossed and turned some more. I was becoming incredibly frustrated.

Suddenly, something happened that hadn't happened in many, many years. A soft weight landed on the bed next to me, walked up to my face, curled up into a ball; Betty. Sweet, sweet Betty. She hadn't come up to sleep next to me since I'd just gotten her and she didn't feel safe in my apartment yet. Ever since then, she'd slept in her bed in the living room. But she must've felt something was up and reacted because nothing was ever up with her master.

I closed my eyes, buried my face in her fur.

I fell asleep. 

My hair was still wet at the tips, creating a cold sensation in the nape of my neck. I was feeling the beginnings of a headache, caused by me clenching my teeth too harshly in my sleep. My dentist had once told me I did that.

I didn't even pretend I was there for the books. I didn't even take a decorative pile of book to hide my intentions. I just stepped into the library, walked to floor three, and went to the glassed-in room where I had seen him yesterday.

My stomach already growled; I had, despite my eagerness to come here, gone to the gym in the morning, figuring Izuna would have classes during the day anyway, and I was too nervous to snack on my Rocky Road protein bar. So this was what people meant when they said they were so nervous they couldn't have a bite? I'd always found that ridiculous, but now understood exactly what it meant. I tried to feel any shame, any remorse of how this boy was making me, a straight man, feel, but found none.

I saw the room then, behind some shelves. My heart leapt as I saw someone in there; no details as my eyesight was, in fact, pretty bad despite my glasses, but definitely someone with dark hair. I came closer and...

It wasn't him.

In there sat a young, dark-skinned girl, deeply engrossed in a book.

My heart, that had leapt up to the skies, took a step out to free-fall. Disappointment.

Izuna wasn't there.

I walked round the glassed-in rooms, but he was
nowhere to be seen. I felt something I could only describe as a frustrated panic, walking round three rounds, hoping against hope I just hadn't seen him the first two rounds.

"Can I help you?"

I turned round. A librarian, an older woman, smiled warmly at me. I must've looked very, very lost.

"Thank you, I'm just looking for someone."

I cast my head down, frowning. Without thinking, my feet took me to the fourth floor to the pottery books; I needed one about pattern making so I might as well get one now I was here. I started browsing the books, grabbing a few while my mind created whirlpool after whirlpool. Could I really wait until next time we filmed together to talk to him? And what kind of talking would that be, after we'd fucked on camera? I wanted an actual conversation, a real conversation, where we met up for the purpose of conversing, to tell each other our stories, to-

I stopped dead.

I almost dropped my books.

There he was.

In another room, the same one as yesterday but on this floor. Of course. How could I have been so dumb not to think about that? He was sitting down, wearing his black-rimmed glasses, today clad in a baggy, soft-purple T-shirt with a cloud and black cargo trousers. His hair was down, wavy and clearly freshly washed, so well-styled it was as if he'd just been to the hairdresser, and slung over one shoulder. He bit his pen a little as he thought. I bit my lip.

And before I had time to think, I went to the door.

I opened it.

I opened the door to my soul to him. 

He jerked, looked up at me. I saw him search his memory bank, not because he didn't recognise me but because the setting was so unusual; he had never in a million years expected to see me here, and who could blame the boy?

But then, as he placed me in his brain, his lips parted, and he couldn't speak.

"Hi", I said softly.

He didn't answer. Just stared.

I am the earthquake and he's paying attention to me.

I had to push the thought away or I would go berserk.

"May I..." I coughed. "May I sit down?"

He didn't answer. I stood put, not wanting to scare him. This was a very, very unusual situation for me. I could always get the girls to talk.

But he's not a girl, Tobirama.

"I missed you at the party", I said. "You stayed at home?"

Whatever had rendered Izuna unable to speak suddenly left him.

"Oh, I was there", he said, without passion.

I frowned. What was this?

"Really? I didn't see you."

He looked at me dead-pan then.

"I saw you."

My frown deepened. Had he seen me and not said hi? Why? Didn't he like me? Was he too shy? Was he waiting for me to make the first move? Was-

And then it struck me.

It struck me exactly when Izuna had seen me.

And for the first time in my life, I felt something I never, ever expected myself to feel regarding my sexual behaviour.

Guilt.