Giovanni tilted his head to try to read the title of the dark leather bound book, but was distracted by the elegance of the man's fingers.
The delicate way he cradled the book in his hands.
Only after carefully studying the man's hands, trying to understand why they captivated him so, did he realize the man was watching him as well. In a quiet intense way that made Giovanni feel as if he was being thoroughly seen, in a way he never had been before. The man had dark lashes surrounding deep brown eyes, but 'brown' wasn't accurate enough a word to describe the shades of hazel and gold in his gaze. His eyes were simply beautiful.
He was beautiful.
There was something about him, maybe it was his sharp jawline and dark brows that made him look so serious and regal. Or his gentle, graceful movements as he moved throughout the library. Perhaps the divet between his collarbones that peeked out of the collar of his sweater. The way his lips looked perfect for small, soft smiles. Something indescribable made him the most beautiful man Giovanni had ever seen.
He could feel the flush on his cheeks as the man looked at him and nodded a shy, awkward greeting before ducking behind a bookshelf. His heart seemed to be throwing itself against his rib cage.
He thought it was the most wonderful feeling.
________________________________________
The next time Giovanni was in the library he looked for the man. Looked for the curly dark hair and round tortoiseshell glasses that he only vaguely remembered, most of his attention having been fixed on the man's hands. He found him in a far corner of the library.
Tucked away between the historical non fiction and autobiographies, he was running his slender fingers over the books as if they were old friends. It took Giovanni five whole minutes after seeing that strangely beautiful sight to work up the nerve to enter the same aisle. The man looked at him for a moment but said nothing. Another five minutes and Giovanni turned to him and uttered a very quiet, even shaky, "Hello." The man simply stared at him with the same intense focus as before as he nodded. No return hello, no smile, no change in his placid expression on his subtly handsome face. Just a slight curiosity in the depths of his eyes.
But it was enough for Giovanni.
________________________________________
Giovanni went through a process every time they met in the library.
Taking his time to calm his nerves enough to manage a hello. Maybe a few sentences on a good day. And the man, who on their sixth meeting Giovanni had been counting revealed his name was Henry, would more often than not stay silent, reserved, and simply listen. When he did speak, Henry's voice was low and his words were slow coming. He seemed to measure every word before he spoke. Giovanni liked his thoughtfulness.
He treasured Henry's rare words.
He tucked them away, deep in his mind where they would be safe. He poured over them again and again when he lay in bed at night. Thinking of Henry.
The dark made Henry's words seem to glow in the moonlight streaming through Giovanni's windows.
________________________________________
It was simply a miracle of fate, or so Giovanni thought, that one day they happened to bump into each other on the way out of the library after their eighth meeting. Giovanni wondered if he could count this as their ninth meeting even though it was on the same day.
Henry had straightened his jacket and nodded to Giovanni, and didn't offer a complaint when Giovanni caught up to walk beside him for a few blocks. After his customary few moments needed to gather his courage, of course. Never mind that Giovanni lived in the opposite direction, he could find a bus back to his apartment.
The butterflies in his stomach from walking with Henry made him feel almost light headed but he found it to be a good kind of feeling.
They walked in silence for a few minutes before Giovanni thought he noticed tension gathering in Henry's shoulders. It was then Giovanni realized perhaps, even though he simply wanted to spend more time with Henry, it was too forward of him to walk Henry home. He mumbled something about a forgotten appointment, wished Henry a quiet 'good day,' and turned to head home.
He walked so fast, trying to escape the embarrassment of his overzealousness, that he almost didn't hear Henry's soft,
"Thank you."
His heart was pounding all the way home.
________________________________________
On their fourteenth meeting Henry smiled at Giovanni.
It was a small upturning of the corners of his mouth, but to Giovanni it was the most sincere and warmest smile.
All because Giovanni had remembered the book Henry had been reading the last time they'd met at the library. He only remembered because that day their chairs had been closer together than usual and Giovanni hadn't been able to look away from Henry, taking in everything about him. From the gentle slope of his neck as it met his shoulders to the book in his hands.
