the library boy

Rayyan Shah had always been watched.

By girls. By teachers. By fake friends who laughed at all his jokes. He was used to it — the attention, the whispers, the heavy stares across classrooms.

But this… this was different.

This stare wasn’t casual. It wasn’t playful.

It was intense. Heavy. Unblinking. Like someone had peeled off his skin and was studying what was underneath.

He shifted in his seat at the back of the campus library, his eyes flicking up over the edge of his laptop screen.

Still there.

The boy sat three tables away, tucked in the shadows between the shelves. Dressed in black. Hood up. Book open but untouched. Staring — no, watching him.

Every. Single. Day.

Rayyan didn’t even know his name. But lately, that face haunted him even when he wasn’t on campus. That sharp jawline. Those dark eyes. The way he never looked away.

It should’ve creeped him out.

And at first — it did.

But now… there was a strange tug in his chest. Not fear. Not really. Something darker. Something curious. Why him? Why like this?

He closed his laptop and stood up, heart oddly fast in his chest. If he turned toward the door, he’d pass the boy’s table.

His feet moved before his brain could argue.

As he walked by, he glanced sideways. The boy's gaze was still locked on him, unmoving. There was no embarrassment. No guilt. Just possession. As if Rayyan already belonged to him.

Rayyan stopped walking.

"Do you know me?" he asked, voice casual — too casual.

The boy blinked, once. Slowly. Then he smiled, just a little.

"I will."

Rayyan’s breath caught in his throat. The voice was low, calm, but something about it — the certainty — made his skin tighten.

“I’ve seen you before,” the boy added, the voice softer now, “but not like this.”

Rayyan’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

The boy tilted his head. “It means I notice the real things about people. Even the parts they try to hide.”

He leaned forward just slightly, resting his chin on one hand.

“You’re not as happy as you pretend to be, Rayyan.”

Rayyan froze.

He never told him his name.

“You’re not as happy as you pretend to be, Rayyan.”

Rayyan froze. The air seemed to stop moving around him.

His name. He never said it. Never introduced himself. Never posted it on any of the library booking logs.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, voice low.

The boy didn’t look guilty. If anything, his smile widened. Not friendly. Not cruel. Just… calm. Unsettlingly calm.

“I listen,” he said simply. “You talk to your friends. Professors. Girls who flirt with you. You don’t notice when people are listening, do you?”

Rayyan took a half step back.

“You’re stalking me.”

The boy shrugged, like that word didn’t bother him at all. “Maybe. Or maybe I just see you better than anyone else does.”

Rayyan’s pulse raced. He should’ve walked away by now. Called someone. Told a friend.

But his feet stayed planted.

“You really think this is normal?” Rayyan asked, eyes narrowing. “Following me. Watching me. Knowing my name?”

Zayan leaned forward now, the faint light catching the hollow of his cheeks, the sharp curve of his jaw.

“I don’t care about normal,” he said. “I care about you.”

Rayyan swallowed hard. His throat felt dry. The worst part? There was no mockery in the boy’s voice. No sarcasm. It wasn’t a line.

It was a promise.

“Why?” Rayyan whispered. “You don’t even know me.”

Zayan's eyes burned darker. “Because I’ve been alone my whole life. And then I saw you. And for once, I didn’t feel alone anymore.”

The silence that followed was thick. Tense. Not even the humming library lights dared to interrupt.

Rayyan stepped back again, but slower this time.

“I have to go,” he said finally.

Zayan didn’t stop him. Didn’t stand. Didn’t move.

He just said one last thing, low and certain:

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rayyan didn’t look back as he walked away — but he felt it. That gaze.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

And for the first time in a long time, Rayyan wasn’t sure if he felt afraid…

Or excited.

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[To be continued...]

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