For as long as I can remember, I had to give up a lot of things for River.

However, as you can imagine, our two-year age gap wasn't the only factor separating us since we were kids.

River had always been the extroverted and popular one between us two. The boy always being picked first on their team during P.E. classes. The center of group presentations and intermission numbers. The face everyone deems as "conventionally attractive" by societal standards. The heartbreaker. The charismatic one. The one who always gets what he wants.

I, on the other hand, prefer to stay at home. Alone with my books. The boy was always forced to join the team with the least members because he wasn't picked in the previous ones. The one at the back who is always hidden from the audience's view (I'm taller than my peers so maybe that's also a culprit). The "average" face, lacked the essential features to separate me from the crowd. The book smart one. The silent one. The one who doesn't exactly know what to do with his life after college.

Our parents separated when I was fifteen. River was thirteen. My father, who I can barely remember save from the time he would read us bedtime stories (River would ignore him and play with his tablet while I always waited until the story ended), settled in Germany where he worked as a magazine editor. My mother, now a single parent at this time, worked as a clerk at the municipal office before finally setting as the head librarian at The Eastwood Archives.

People often ask why I'm so mature at my young age. Well, the simplest answer is that I had to be the mature one to keep things together when my father left. I hold no personal grudge towards him, of course. Maybe just a little, but sometimes you have to accept that some couples aren't as compatible as they seem to be. It's a hard pill to swallow, I know. So whenever our mother wasn't at home, I'd step up as the older brother to make sure the house is still a home while River became even more carefree.

Before anything else, I would like to share that there was this one incident in high school when River and I had the same crush.

This happened a few years after our parents got divorced.

She was a classmate of mine in history. Short black hair and a kind smile. We rarely spoke back then, but I remember she was one of the few people who actually paid attention to me whenever I reported in front.

River, who always obligated me to write his essays and do his reading assignments, took a liking to her and started courting her that same academic year. Of course, I had to give way.

Like I had in so many things in my life.

"Don't be like that. There are a lot of girls on campus! Plus you're going to college next year, right? I'm jealous," he would say. "I can't wait to go to ECU and meet people."

"College isn't about meeting people. It's about education and skill development."

"Maybe to you. Come on, why not loosen up a bit? Hey, have you finished my reaction paper? It's due tomorrow."

For the record, I do love my sibling like how any normal person would love theirs. But sometimes I secretly include River's name in the short stories I write and make him the villain as my form of revenge. Petty, I know. But at that point, I only had my books and my unwritten stories to keep me company.

By the time I started writing on paper and turning them into paper cranes that filled my jar of the things I'd given up on, I was already doubting my chosen degree program. River got accepted and started pursuing an engineering degree (math is the only subject he can survive without my help, props to him), boasting about it at family reunions. Meanwhile, I had to defend my choices and explain the potential career paths I could take to justify myself.

First-born, but I was never the first option in anything.

So when I graduated college, I got lost along the way and asked myself:

What now?

When I decided I didn't want to pursue careers that I'd later regret down the road, I started spending my nights at the library. I brought blankets with me and started building my own nook at the farthest corner where people rarely venture to. Of course, that didn't go unnoticed by my mother who addressed this one afternoon after her shift.

"So, you're gonna stay here again tonight?"

Reading a book, I answered, "If possible, yes. Can I?"

Mom sighed, knowing all too well that her eldest son has his quirks unknown to mankind.

"As long as you don't get caught, I guess it's okay. Just come home in the morning and tell me if you need anything."

"Roger that."

"And Ronan?"

"Hm?"

"What's that jar for?"

Ah. When she pointed at the jar I filled with paper cranes, I immediately pushed it back against several encyclopedia volumes. Sometimes it's easier to leave things unexplained until the day you'll be brave enough to open up to someone about it.

"It's for a project. The usual."

Mom nodded, although I could tell from her expression that she didn't fully believe what I said.

"Okay. Oh, and River's group is organizing Engineering Week this year at ECU. Support your brother, okay? You know I can't leave my duties with finals week coming up. Students are buzzing in and out of the library these days."

"Don't worry, Mom. I got it," I replied almost mechanically until I heard her footsteps retreat to the front of the library. I sighed, knowing that my life revolved around babysitting my reckless brother and making sure he didn't do anything out of line. Many times in the past, I took the blame for his mistakes just so he wouldn't get in trouble for it. Some might call me stupid, but I'd like to think of it as a heroic act if only to make it more appealing.

This is my life. A ghost unseen by the ones around me, living just to support and give advice to others...

All while having my own things to deal with.

Things I'm not ready to talk about yet.

.
.
.

Contrary to popular belief, I know my reputation as the Library Ghost in The Eastwood Archives. I guess some people noticed that I was more "active" on Fridays. There's no special reason. From Mondays to Thursdays, I would usually help River with his projects and submit my applications in hopes of getting a decently paying job. A mundane and boring job, but a job nonetheless. Unfortunately, I've already been rejected by more than a hundred employers in the past year and I'm on the verge of giving up.

That's when I heard her sobbing between the bookshelves one night while I passed by an aisle to return a novel I'd been reading.

'She must carry a lot on her shoulders to be crying herself to sleep in a library,' I thought in pity. When I noticed her tear-streaked face, sleeping soundly as turned her head to the side, I quickly realized she was a new face.

A transferee?

When I got a glimpse at the essay she was working on, I immediately recognized the topic. River had a similar assignment that week in his class. I should know, I'm the one who wrote it.

Sighing, I knew I couldn't just leave her alone like this but I'm pretty sure she'd get freaked out when she finds me here.

Everyone is freaked out by me. Especially when I roam the library with a white sheet covering my entire body! Remembering that I still have some store-bought cookies left back at my fortress, I smiled.

"I'll just leave her a note and an apology cookie."

.
.
.

"So, I have this seatmate in English class."

Sunday nights are family nights in our household. Mom would usually cook us our favorite meal, while River would brag about the events of his week. On nights like this, I usually ignore what he says but acknowledge his presence out of politeness. But, somehow, what he said next caught my full attention.

"...her name's Ebony. She just moved to Eastwood a few weeks ago, I think."

Ebony.

I quickly avoided eye contact, as if I was hiding something River shouldn't know. Which is a bit strange since I've never felt the need to hide anything from my obnoxious brother. Not that we care much about each other's affairs since the only similar trait binding us is our eye color.

Ebony Suarez.

How could I forget such a memorable name associated with such a memorable face? For the past few nights after she lured me out with some chocolate chip cookies at the library, spending the nights with her in my book fortress is something I secretly look forward to. Something I anticipate the moment I wake up the following day. That is besides the fact that I'm more than happy to help her with her book review.

'So, they're classmates?'

That explains why her essay back then seemed familiar.

"Do you think she'll like me?"

I almost choked on the marbled potato I ate. Immediately, I grabbed a glass of water and masked my suffering as River eyed me curiously. Was my reaction that obvious? My mother silently studied me, her gaze already asking questions I had no answers to yet.

"Don't you think it's inappropriate to assume her preferences when you two seem to barely know each other?" I asked jokingly, hoping to alleviate the tension in the atmosphere. "Why don't you... I don't know, maybe spend quality time, communicate, build the foundation of trust and friendship first? See where that'll take you?"

River shrugged as if it was never a big deal to him. "Hey, it's worth the shot. If I'm not her type, then I'll make her like me. I'm a likable person, remember? And what do you know about girls, Ronan? You've never even had a girlfriend."

I frowned at what he said. My brother's a good person (albeit a bit conceited) but sometimes River can still be insensitive. On normal occasions, I'd just be the bigger person and let this slide. But right now, I feel offended.

Our mother must've noticed it too because she then diverted the topic.

.
.
.

My nights with Ebony progressed into something more than just a mutual agreement. I admit, that I enjoy spending time with her and I sometimes wish that she did too. It turns out, we were both healing from something we both weren't ready to talk about. She was healing from her past and I was dealing with my future---two people trapped in a present time, figuring out what to do with their lives.

The first time I saw her had an anxiety attack, I wanted nothing more than to protect her from whatever pain she was going through.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I know she's a strong woman, and I do not doubt that she'll get through this. Until then, I would gladly be standing beside her, holding her hand if she'd let me, reminding her to breathe.

"You didn't tell me you knew Ebony."

River's words broke my train of thought that morning when I just came home from another failed job application. I was about to clarify what he said when my brother suddenly placed a familiar tissue paper on the table.

"Sleeping Beauty? Really? She accidentally dropped this from her bag. I instantly recognized your handwriting, Ronan."

I shouldn't feel guilty. Ebony and I are friends, and what we do together is beyond River's scope of concern. But then again, I can't help but feel a bit defensive.

"Ebony and I are close acquaintances."

"Is she the reason why you're camping out at the library every night? You used to only do that on Fridays. Don't think we haven't noticed, you sly fox."

"The last time I checked, there wasn't a sign in the library that forbid me from seeing her," I frowned.

"Uh huh. Still," River sighed. His expression didn't betray what was playing on his mind. A moment later, he mimicked my frown. "Look, you know I like her right? Do you think she'd be thrilled to meet the man behind that stupid ghost costume you always wear?"

'But I met her first,' I wanted to counter but kept my mouth shut instead.

"What do you mean?"

When River walked away that day, left my question unanswered, and took the tissue note with him, I hate to admit that he was yet again successful in one thing: planting a seed of doubt and stirring old insecurities within me.

.
.
.

"River, you need to stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop pretending to be me and using my nickname for her. That's disrespectful!"

"Why not? There's no harm in a little white lie, right? Besides, you don't even go out during the daytime. It'll be fine. I just bought her coffee."

"But..."

"Look, I care for her too, okay? Chill."

At that point, I fear River would take things too far. Ebony doesn't even like my brother, right?

.
.
.

I have a confession to make. Indeed, it was never a requirement to take a date to the Ghost Festival, but there's a childish belief that if you took someone you like to the festival, you'd end up as soulmates. I know that's not how the conventional soulmate rules are as told in literature, but many still take their lovers there in hopes that they'll end up together one day.

Yes, it's silly. Even if the whole "soulmate" thing is real, it's nearly impossible to have a say in it. Fate would eventually bring you two together by a natural course of events.

And maybe that's why a lot of students still adhere to this weird tradition.

If there's a slim chance that we can actually be with someone we adore, why not take it?

I was ready to reveal this tiny detail to Ebony by the end of our escapade. I just finished reading her A Room with a View a few nights back and... If I were to be honest, I was just looking for an excuse to spend more time with her. Am I greedy? That worries me. I know she's going out of her way to help me with the paper cranes in that jar, but the longer we get to know each other, the more drawn I am to her company. Maybe I'm lonely, maybe I'm just scared that she'll suddenly stop going to the library at night. Maybe I'm just a lost Library Ghost following the warm light I saw in Ebony, deluding myself that this is my salvation.

She is my salvation.

Indeed, Ebony makes me feel braver. Never would I dream of doing the things I've given up on if not for her taking my hand and jumping with me into the vast unknown. She slowly showed me colors beyond the dusty old books and dull pages of The Eastwood Archives, the outside world, and what life has to offer.

And when I saw her smiling, laughing, and enjoying herself at the festival.

I secretly wished I had captured that image and placed it inside a jar to preserve it for all eternity.

'I started writing again because of you,' I wanted to say. On some nights, I know she notices me scribbling on sheets of paper, writing the manuscript for my first romance novel that I plan to submit one of these days. I've already had a conversation with my father at this point, and to my surprise, he was even offering to support me pursue my writing career in Germany.

I'm still undecided.

I still need more time.

'Ebony, what should I do?'

I wanted to tell her about this. I know she'd be delighted to hear that I've finally gotten over my hesitation with starting my novel. And that's all thanks to the courage she inspired in me.

But what if there's not enough time?

After the brawl with her bastard of an ex, I fled the scene when Anthony pulled the sheet from my face, exposing myself to the crowd of people around us. When I heard her call me over a distance, River's words rang in my ear.

'Do you think she'd be thrilled to meet the man behind that stupid ghost costume you always wear?'

Out of impulse and fear that Ebony wouldn't be too enthusiastic to see me, I fled the scene like a coward. My heart hammered in my ribcage as I distanced myself from the scene. When the crowd thinned out and the security dragged Anthony away, I nervously looked for my sheet. Damn it, where is it? I'm pretty sure the cut he made on the side of my face left a blood stain. What happens if Ebony...?

"...don't you ever leave me again! I was so worried! I-I..."

I stopped in my tracks, recognizing that voice. That's when I spotted her hugging my brother from behind.

"I care for you... So much."

I stood frozen in place as if time played a trick on me. And that suddenly made me wonder if I were the person Ebony wanted to go with to this festival in the first place. I only saw her during nighttime, so I don't know the extent of her and River's relationship. Can I be greedy? The voice inside me said no. Not when I've spent most of my life being the bigger person and allowing myself to shrink back into my corner as the world unfolded before my eyes. Who am I to drag Ebony into my mess? She deserves someone who she can be proud of, not someone who reads books in the shadows.

"I... I don't know what to say. It's nice to finally see you too, Ebony."

As River spoke those lines, I took it as a sa cue to exit the stage.

My mind reeled back to the manuscript and the dedication I'd written solely for her.

DEDICATION

To the princess, I found crying in the library a month ago, who deserves every chance at living her fairytale. Maybe in an alternate universe, you're Happily Ever After is with a writer. Who knows?

Daresay, I'll admit: I do love her. Because of all the experiences I've given up for other people's comfort, Ebony is an exception. She's not just an experience but an entire chapter in my life.

My favorite chapter.

But given our circumstances, she deserves a man who is actually a "somebody" and not just a nobody lurking in the public library at midnight. If I have to work hard and dream higher to be the person she needs me to be, I'm determined win every battle in this war against myself.

I want to be better.

For myself.

For her.

Until then, I could only hope for her happiness and that fate reunites us again at the right time.

I've made up my mind.

"Hello, Dad?"

---