"I guess we need to work on the revisions tonight," River casually suggested after handing me back our paper.

I frowned, taking in the red markings our professor made. Corrections, annotations, and a few suggestions are scribbled near the end of the page. I glanced at my watch, noticing dismissal was only a few minutes away. As much as I want to exit the room and head straight back to my apartment, I know I have to be patient.

And being patient means tolerating my seatmate slash partner's obvious advances.

"Can't," I answered and handed him back the paper. "I have extracurricular activities after class. Maybe we can work out the revisions tomorrow at lunch?"

River raised an eyebrow at my words, clearly not convinced. "Extracurricular activities, huh? You don't seem the type to take up any extra stuff."

"What does that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing. It's just that you don't look like the sociable type. Tell me, are you seeing someone after class?"

My eyes widened at his accusation. When I didn't respond, he smirked and further pushed.

"Just kidding! You look like you've seen a ghost."

He was leaning too close for my liking, but I know I can't just complain and make a scene here. Aside from the fact that I don't wanna be rude, the professor is still up in front, discussing a few pointers on how to improve our creative short story output. I don't wanna be a distraction or be the center of attention. Still, I have no idea why he even paired up the class in the first place. I'm pretty sure short stories can be written individually and yet here I am stuck with River.

"So, tomorrow at lunch?"

River asked again as we exited the classroom after dismissal. I have to admit, he is good-looking, and there's something familiar about him that I can't seem to pinpoint. Aside from his annoying personality.

I nodded, my hands clutching the strap of my bag. "Yes, if that's alright with you?"

He smiled. "Of course. See you tomorrow, Ebony! Good luck with your 'extracurricular' activities." River winked and started walking in the opposite direction.

I watched in silence as he walked away. From the corner of my eye, Julie appeared beside me with a scowl on her lips. She followed my line of sight and stared at me as if I were crazy.

"Is that River?"

"Huh? Yes. We have English class together."

Julie huffed and hooked her arm with mine, leading me to the opposite hallway. The students around us are lost in their own worlds and social lives as well. It's funny how we all pretend we don't know each other outside of the classroom.

"I know I told you ECU boys are hot, but he's out of the equation. Piece of advice, my dear cousin? Stay away from that freak. He's a narcissistic playboy! Never had a good reputation at ECU to begin with," Julie warned me.

"I don't need any more warnings, but thanks, I guess?"

"Well, that's a relief! Anyway..."

She laughed and started to change the topic, ranting about how strict her adviser was or something. I don't remember. All I know is that my mind slowly drifted off to that book review I'm working on with Ronan.

When Julie and I departed ways at the gate, I quickly checked the time and silently cursed under my breath. I still have so many things to prepare before my meet-up with Ronan!

'Great. Way to go, Ebony!'

With a spring in my step, I rushed back to my apartment and started preparing my little surprise for the Library Ghost.

*

"Ronan?"

Ronan turned to me just when he was about to open the book to do our nightly reading. He was sitting in front of me, with a pair of reading glasses over his blanket. I found it weird at first but just accepted that it was part of his many props and quirks that make him... well, Ronan. He gently replaced the handcrafted bookmark and waited for whatever I was gonna say, giving me his undivided attention.

"What is it, Ebony? Is something wrong? Is there something on your mind?"

And that's one thing I noticed about Ronan. When he stares at you, he stares at your soul. Like you are the only person in the room with him. I find myself still overwhelmed, not used to someone looking at me like that.

Not even Anthony did.

I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"I made you something."

He tilted his head, amused and attentive. A hint of excitement in his voice.

"Really? What is it?"

"It's..." I sighed and just took out the small container of chocolate chip cookies he adored so much. I handed it over to him and quickly covered my face. "They look ugly, I know. I... followed the recipe I saw on the internet but I think I put in too much butter or flour. I am so sorry, this is my first time. The chocolate is cheap and unbranded because I couldn't find anything else at the store and..."

My voice trailed off, overpowered by the munching sound coming from him.

When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the sight of Ronan eating the cookies. I saw them disappear under the blanket covering his face before taking another one. A moment later, he smiled.

I know he was smiling because his eyes crinkled at the corner.

"They're delicious. The best I've ever had! Thank you for these, Ebony."

A pause.

"Y-You're lying. You're probably just saying that to make me feel better," I said and looked away.

"I'm not," he replied with sincerity. "These are delicious. Please don't underestimate yourself or your baking abilities. Give yourself some credit."

I stared at him, disgesting what he said. If he only knew how relieved I am to hear that he likes them after I almost broke down and broke the microwave earlier in frustration. After a few seconds of silence, Ronan finally asked...

"And Ebony?"

I nodded and hugged my knees together. "Yes?"

"Why is it hard for you to accept compliments? You don't need to answer this if you don't feel like it," he quickly added, clutching the container. "I'm just worried."

That question caught me off guard, but it made me seek answers within myself. I'm never one who internalizes or reflects on things so this is new to me. As Ronan patiently waited for my response, I tried to look back on my past experiences, realizing the truth in his words.

"I guess because I have a hard time telling if people are genuinely complimenting me or just being sarcastic. I remember in high school, there was this one girl who complimented me on my bangs. I cut them myself even when my mother told me not to. So I thanked the girl, thinking I looked good. But at the end of the day, my bangs looked hideous and I quickly became the laughing stock in my class," I narrated, still feeling the lingering stares and hearing the laughter ringing in my ears.

They bullied me for a week after that incident and I was too anxious to go to school, always looking over my shoulder and hiding from other students.

People don't know how much these small things affect others until they manifest into permanent scars, reminders of a bitter experience.

"It's not easy to trust people," I admitted. "Especially when I've had a lot of them break my trust in the past. I would often wonder... what did I do to deserve this? Am I too foolish? Too trusting? Too stupid to wear my heart on my sleeve? I guess... it made me into who I am. I'm sorry."

Ronan remained silent, absorbing everything I said. Finally, he offered me the container of cookies. Confused, I hesitantly took one out and bit into it. To my surprise, they may look ugly on the outside but the taste makes up for everything.

He was right, they were delicious.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

He then stood up and reached into his stacks of books. That's when Ronan pulled out the glass jar that contained the paper cranes with fairy lights. He held it between us, allowing me to marvel at its beauty.

Pointing to the few paper cranes he made into wall decor, he explained, "Those are the things I've done," Ronan pointed back to the jar full of paper cranes, "and this is what I'd like to call 'The Jar of Things I've Given Up'."

When I didn't respond, he sat beside me and handed me the jar.

A silent display of trust.

"Why is there a lot?" I asked.

"Because I had to give up on a lot of things," he simply stated. When he motioned for me to open the jar, I did as I was told. Reaching in for one of the paper cranes, I noticed there was something written inside it. Ronan studied me as I unfolded the crane and read what was written...

"Be an author of a best-selling novel?"

He shrugged as if it was impossible to begin with. "I always liked writing. But I stopped for a lot of reasons. You could say I no longer have discipline or simply lack the motivation. Either way, it's in the jar. Because I was born to be a writer, but I had to accept the fact that I was forced to be something else."

I stayed silent, holding on to that piece of paper. Seeing him as a writer seems completely natural. Ronan has a way with words and I notice how his eyes shine when he tells a story, like a kid telling others he saw Santa Claus with his own eyes.

It feels... unsettling.

To find out that he had already given up on this. So much wasted potential.

I wish I could help him. Ronan had done so much for me in a short amount of time and I want to repay his good deeds. As a thank you for helping me with the book review, because I don't want to imagine what happens after this all ends. When I don't have any reason to meet him here anymore. Will we go back to being strangers or we will remain friends?

Suddenly, a crazy idea popped into my head. I eagerly looked up at him, feeling renewed and even excited.

"Ronan?"

"Yes?"

"What if I help you empty your jar of things you had to give up?"

He blinked at me, confused. "And how are we gonna do that?" 

I smiled and started taking out the paper cranes one by one. God, there are a lot of them! Just how many things did this man had to give up?

"By doing them together," I paused, realizing something as I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment. "I-If that's okay with you?"

Ronan then reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair and tucking it behind my ear. Our eyes met, and I felt like we were the only two souls living in this little world we called our own.

"If it's with you, yes."

---