what a life||(open)

[iheartyouu]

can't you see i'm trying||

i don't even like it, i'm just lying
Brookelle brushed back her hair. What was she doing here? It wasn't like she had anything huge to study for. If she did, she would most likely have been curled up in her room right now, eating comfort food and cramming.
No, she was very much here and not quite sure of what to do. The library had been one of her favorite places as a child, besides any room with a piano and her dining room: it was large, open, had great acoustics, and it was only used at night. Maybe the library was bringing her closer to home somehow, reassuring her.
But why did she need reassurance? She had all--well, most--of the familiarities of home here, and her wonderful friends.
Maybe it was just her family. Maybe she was just getting nostalgic.
Was it the fact that Connor, her ex from over the summer, had had gone out the door and now it was 'bye, bye, bye' for the two of them? She had been so convinced that all they needed was love, but obviously she was wrong.
Maybe she was wishing for college to be over already. She actually laughed at that one: why would she want this fabulous dream of a college experience to be over?
She hadn't realized, but in doing this she had began to masticate her granola bar, and it was now lying in a crumbled heap of oats all over her sheet music.
"Oh, motherchucker," she groaned as she began to clean it up. There was no cleaning the sticky syrup that now covered a couple of bars of music, though, and she would just have to live with that.
Opening a random textbook that was lying sprawled on the table, she pretended to read it while really pondering these weird thoughts.
Her eyes flew across the page, not really taking in any useful information whatsoever. She hummed songs as she 'read', changing the tune whenever a new song came to mind. As she continued this odd process, a particular song came to mind. Free Fallin, by Tom Petty. What? She hadn't heard that song in awhile.
It didn't seem to go away, and she seemed to need to need to get it out. And there was only one way to get a song out of her head. She put down the textbook and started singing.

"And, I'm a bad boy, cuz I don't even miss her! And I'm a bad boy for breaking her heart..." She giggled. As long as she was doing this, she might as well do it the right way. She grabbed a pencil and started singing into it like a crazed teen with a hairbrush in front of a mirror.

"And I'm free, free falling, yeah I'm free, free falling!" She forgot that she was in the library and was really belting it out, despite herself. The sound of footsteps behind her made her cut the performance short. Was it the librarian? She blushed.

"Erm... sorry, I..." She turned around awkwardly to face whoever had caught the end of her little show.

[jackson]

His head was full of thoughts that would not go away. Jackson Cole was facing two terrible conflicts: but they both were about the same thing, the same subject. For one, two girls were probably about to kick his rear-end. His girlfriend, Holly-Ann Harrington, and his ex-girlfriend, Paige Roberts. The troubled boy loved both, but in different way. He loved Holly-Ann, but he was in love with Paige. He came to this conclusion not long ago. Maybe a day or so prior to now. However, he was not content with telling them. One part of him wants to drop them both like a bad habit and leave it all alone for now - like his best friend, Cat, had told him he should do. But the other part of him doesn't want to hurt either of them. No matter what he decided to do, someone will get hurt. If had to choose, he knew who he would choose. It was just a matter of getting there. Of trying not to hurt the other's feelings.

With that in mind, Jackson made his way toward the library. He needed to do something, and what better than study? He had a Music History test next week, and with his mind always on the two girls, Jackson rarely paid any attention in class. Messenger bag in tow with a few books and notebook inside, he walked briskly through the freezing October air. Sometimes he seriously loathed the state of Washington. Finally, he pulled open the double doors to the library, slid his card across the scanner, and waited for the inside door to open. When it did, Jackson quickly walked in before it had a chance to close again. The library was huge, with ceilings at least thirty feet high. But the bookcases made the room look full. He made his way through the library, hearing a faint singing voice from deep in the back. Curios, he followed the voice and it grew louder and louder. Then he found the beholder.

Jackson walked slowly up to her, trying his best not to laugh and spoil moment. But then she turned around at the sound of his footsteps, clearly embarrassed and flustered. And Jackson could not help but bust out in laughter. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're suppose to be quiet in a library?" His words were followed by a witty smirk and Jackson took it upon himself to sit down at the table she was at. He put his black, messenger bag on the table in front of him, a few of his books peeking out. "And, be careful with that pencil. With the way you are moving you might stab yourself in the eye." He winked at her subtly.