“I see that you are deeply in thought.” I don’t turn around to see who is talking to me from behind the cold, metal bench I’m sitting on. I can easily tell by the voice, and the arrogant undertone in it.

“Thank you, the obvious-stating Will.”

“You know, there’s a better comeback that you could have used there.” He scuffles, but does not show himself, and stays behind the bench.

“You fool; the trick to using comebacks is confidence and the proper use of conceited tone. Everything is surely able to do the trick as long as you sound condescending enough.”

“I understand you were caught off-guard and forgot that the phrase Captain Obvious exists for a second, but at least don’t put the blame on me, and don’t call me a fool either.” I can’t see William’s face, but I can imagine him, rolling his eyes with slight distraught.

“See? It works. What I said was the furthest thing from a comeback, but it was condescending enough to piss you off.”

“I guess that’s how talking works, according to you.”

Is that supposed to mean anything?

Will finally marches to the other side of the bench and steals a glance at my defeated face; then, he pushes me to the right side of the bench and sits on the left side of it.

“Look, if this is about the thing I was supposed to write, then…”

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what the hell do you want with me?” I exclaim in utter shock and disbelief.

“Don’t be rude. I’m not some common conman who’s always in it for the gain. We can have a normal conversation too, you know?” He yells. I gather my focus once more elsewhere, as the hallway on the other side of the window in front of me gets more and more crowded. People are leaving the library. This might be my only chance.

“So, how has your day been progressing?” Will asks, clearing his throat.

"What is this, a Martin Mystery episode? What’s with the formal approach?"

“Dunno. I thought it might be preferable for you. So, is there something bothering you? You’ve been spacing out more than usual, and the usual you meagerly spends time in our world.”

That was just a cruel thing to say. Even if it was true, it didn’t mean he had to be honest about it. “As a matter of fact, there is something troubling me.” And with that, I tell him everything. From the first note, to the second, as a desperate attempt at finding out if he was the one who put them here, by watching his reactions. As much as I wanted to show him the notes, the first one was torn to shreds and the second one was still in Sonny’s possession.

Pinched by Sonny, is a better way to put it.

So, I just get this over with by showing him the picture I took of the second note with my phone. As I thought, Will does not react. He stares blankly and absorbs everything I say, then makes the face of a brazen armadillo, and stares at me for several seconds with the exact same expression.

“I’m not sure I get this.”

This idiot should just drop dead. I’ll make sure to read his note a week before and set it ablaze, and feed the ashes to an actual armadillo.

“Oh, it’s okay. I kinda get what’s going on, so you don’t need to try too hard to convince me like that.” Will averts his gaze from the phone, and glances at me, and once he sees my face, his eyes widen and he immediately goes back to the phone he’s holding. I guess my face couldn’t hide my murderous thoughts at all.

“You really don’t need to understand what I’m saying." I let out a sigh, and pull myself to the right end of the bench, leaving a small bit of distance between us. "All I need to know is how to approach a dimwit who is pushing me away every single time.” He really doesn’t need to understand, not that he actually does. He can be very dense at times.

“You can be very dense at times.” He begins after a sigh.

How ironic.

“I mean, you’re trying to talk to someone who just keeps pushing you away? Isn’t that a bit similar to a certain someone?”

I understand what he is referring to.

“I wouldn’t say similar.” Rubbing his chin, he takes the pose of Le Penseur. “Maybe even identical?”

"…"

“Well, anyway.” He continues. “Sonny and I are probably the only ones who can help you out since we’ve been doing this for a while now with you as our guinea pig.”

“So, what should I do? How do I get her to open up?"

“Easy; you approach from behind, when she least expects you, and has her guard down. In other words, approach her when she’s spacing out, so you wouldn’t get clawed.”

“Noted.”

“And don’t initiate with a dialogue. Ask her a question instead, and get her to talk with this method.”

“Alright. Then?”

“Avoid being in her sight so much, she might feel uncomfortable having a person stare at them. You can avoid that by simply standing behind her, like behind the bench she is sitting on.”

“Just for how long have you been making this guide?”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Translation: Beware the stalker. “Just leave it all to me.” Translation: join the dark side of stalking; we have free drinks here.

“Are you sure about this? It did work on me a few moments ago, but aren't I a bit different?” My question gets a side-glance in return.

“You can trust me with this; and what the hell makes you think you're any different? Are you some kind of special snowflake now? Don't get too cocky just because the story is from your point of view. Don't worry you can handle it.”

The problem is, I would’ve let my mind deceive me into believing one ounce of anything he just told me, if only he wasn’t wearing a dinosaur T-shirt again. “Fine. Any other pointers?”

“If you want to pet her, give her some food first, and be friendly and patient.”

“Wait, that was a guide on how to approach stray cats, wasn’t it?”

“It always has been. So what? I don’t see any difference between a cat and a human. They both need security before they can trust someone.”

“You know I don’t have time for extra dialogue about humans being the same as animals.” I exasperate. “I’m in a hurry. So spare me the philosophy.”

“Well, I wasn’t even trying to lead you astray. This would actually work; with everyone, no matter the species.” The cat-obsessed William declares. Now that I remember, he did have a “cat-person” T-shirt the other day. Is he not bothered by the cold? The most I’ve seen him wear, was that day when he had a ridiculous T-shirt with a raccoon on it, and a shirt with the buttons undone.

Two thin layers of clothing is the most he’s ever worn ever since I met him.

Maybe he simply wants to show off his T-shirts. If you ask me, there is nothing in those dorky-looking garbage T-shirts worth showing off.

“Well, thanks for the tips, I guess. Except the last one.”

“So, are you not going to write that thing? Do you want me to take care of it for you? I can tell them you were busy or come up with some other bullcrap excuse.”

“No. I’ll get to it. Just give me more time.” As to why I changed my mind, I still don’t know. All I know is that not doing it didn’t seem right. I probably had a reason inside, and I was too tired to even process what it was, so I decided to go with my instincts on this.

“You can have all the time you need, as long as we get the old you back. Don't rush it.”

Even I don’t know how the old me was different from today's me. When you change, you don’t realize it yourself, and by the time you notice, you will have already forgotten it; that’s something my dad used to say. He had a lot to say, despite being the drunken blockhead he was, and I get reminded of a lot of them when I least expect them.

I can’t help but laugh at that thought.

Will ignores my chuckle and checks his phone.

“Crap. I need to go back to the library. They're wrapping things up to leave for the day. Are you alright here?”

“Sure. Farewell, the Williams-obsessed William.”

After he dashes away, I get back to staring at the once-empty hallway again.

“Guess I need to find the girl,” I whisper to no one.

No one.

No one.

I shove those words away, before they bring back a familiar name, and stand up, looking around. There aren’t many people wandering around.

Atilla is nowhere to be seen.

She probably left a long time ago.

And I should probably leave as well.