THIS RANDOMLY HAPPENED AAAGHGHGHHGH.

Update speed for this one = slower than normal for me. And those of you that read my stuff will know that my normal update speed is around one chapter a day and slow update speed is still faster than most people's fast. (I usually write the stories first, then start posting them. This one I will be posting as I finish the chapters.)

WARNINGS:

BL (Boy Love. Lots of fluff, maybe some kissing and fleeting mentions of sexual content. FOR NOW…)

MindReader!Tino x Deaf!Berwald

Ummmm…yeah. Have fun, my children. Read and review!

The sound of a page turning in a silent room is a calming thing. The air is still and smells of old binding and ink. In this place you can feel solitary, unnoticeable, and undisturbed as your mind travels to places only you can see. Words on a page are forgotten and the story magically comes to life in your mind. Like a movie seen in a thousand ways by a thousand people.

The library is a nice quiet place to most. I, for one, always feel at home in this maze of books, tables, and comfortable rocking chairs. My foot absentmindedly moves up and down to bend my knee and make me sway peacefully back and forth. The rhythm is comfortable and paced just to my liking. Like everyone else here I hold a book in my lap and have my eyes glued to its pages. But unlike everyone else, I am not reading this book. I am watching the ones being read around me.

If I wanted to watch a story I could go to the movies. But that costs money and is nothing quite like unfiltered human imagination. Filmmaking doesn't come anywhere near the vivid detail and lure of written tales. I am the only one around me with the gift to tap into the minds of others and see what they see in their heads. Each perspective is different and even the same book can be read twice but feel new by different people. That is why I come to the library: to watch what others read.

My head doesn't do so well in most public places. The thoughts of the busy world are often headache inducing and confusing. Sometimes downright scary. Ever since I was little I hid from crowded places where I would hear voices in my head. However, they were not in my head. They were in others. Mind reading comes in handy sometimes but often I feel as if I must isolate myself to keep my sanity. It is here in the library I can enjoy the company of others and not be burdened by my odd ability.

It is in relaxed settings like this I can exorcize my control. By narrowing in on one person's mind as they read I can focus and learn to sharpen my awareness. Most people want to learn how to take in as much as they can around them. I try my best to become ignorant and have made considerable improvement.

It was a normal day when I decided to stop viewing the story of the man by the window reading a murder mystery novel when a scene started to get too graphic for me. He had quite the imagination to see it in such detail…or maybe it was how the book described it. I could never tell. Instead I freed my mind and began to see the images and pictures of the twenty or so people around me at the time. There were also the thoughts of the librarian who was busy thinking about what she was going to have for dinner.

I could really go for a big bucket of fried chicken but I don't want Roddy thinking I'm a fat cow…I wonder if he's okay with pasta….

I knew Elizaveta pretty well. Of course she knows almost nothing about me, just my name and what kinds of books I normally check out (I am a regular after all) but after spending so much time here I couldn't help but pick up on who she was. It might have been an intrusion on her personal space but I couldn't help overhearing her funny and blunt thoughts from time-to-time.

I began to focus on the voices behind me. People sat at small tables and comfy chairs all over in my proverbial vision.

Rather than streetlamps, placed at regular intervals along the sidewalk were enormous trees the likes of which the children had never seen before-and which they could scarcely see now. High above a thick and prickly trunk, the branches of the trees drooped down like laundry hung out to dry, spreading their wide, flat leaves out in every direction, like a low, leafy ceiling over the Baudelaires' heads. This ceiling blocked out all the light from above, so even though it was the middle of the afternoon, the street looked as dark as evening-if a bit greener. It was hardly a good way to make three orphans feel welcome as they approached their new home.

A story about orphans? I wasn't particularly in the mood for such a dark story right now and the way this person pictured it filled me with dread. My mind skipped to the next one.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm very sorry, Floe. Your parents are…gone."

I knew it. One of my last memories is of my dad telling me my mother had also contracted lympaticotosis. "My dad, too?" I ask softly.

"Yes," he says quietly. "It wasn't your fault, Floe. The Venice Beach outbreak was unexpected and highly contagious." He smiles. "I have some good news, though. I can revive them as well."

Nah. Lets see what the next one is…

He transferred one hand to his other grip, leaving one set of his fingers free to slip down over the curve of her throat and to cup her breast while her wrists were captured above her head. The hand left her breast and reached down to lift the weight of her gown, crumpling it in an awkward wad between them. She felt the fresh air through her light woolen hose and the brush of his strong leg between hers.

Woah, woah, WOAH. Erotic romance novels strike again! I hate it when that happens. If I didn't tear my mind away from steamy scenes like that quick, I would end up with a problem in the middle of the library. I do enjoy the romance genre, but I am a rather innocent man…when not alone.

Would he like to get a coffee with me?

That thought was not accompanied by an image. It was from someone, a man by the sound of his inner voice, not reading a book but thinking to himself. I have a bad habit of sticking my nose into other people's business and tuned in curiously.

Wait, no…I have to introduce myself first don't I? Will he think I am weird for talking to a stranger like that? Maybe I should come up with something that I need…a conversation starter. I could ask him if he knows where a certain book is and he could show me, and I could thank him and invite him out to coffee or lunch… But he might not know or point me to the librarian. Then what would I do?

Score! Oh how I love to listen to the inner ramblings of these kinds of situations. When a girl is working up the courage to speak to a boy she likes, or a man is pondering what his first line to a possible sweetheart will be…! Unless the person has purely lusty intentions, it is endearing to watch. This man sounded nervous and confused and I couldn't help but grin. His thoughts were sweet; the images in his mind of the places he wanted to take whoever he was aiming for were wonderful and charming. It would be worth it to take a break from my viewing to see how this turns out so I focused everything on him.

If only it were easy to tell if he even likes men…I could be setting my sights on someone I don't have a chance with. So I should start with being friends. Should I walk over and recommend a book to him? No, that would be too random to be casual… Perhaps I could drop something as I walk by. He looks like the kind that would help me pick it up and I could strike up some kind of conversation.

It is times like these I can be thankful for my strange gift. I don't have nearly as much trouble as others when it comes to figuring out someone's sexuality and personality before I speak to them. I am bisexual, so you can see how it comes in handy. In my own head I was rooting for the man clearly infatuated with this lucky stranger. Try it! I would certainly fall for such a cute way to make first contact, being the sap I am.

Wait, I can't talk to him…I keep forgetting. I don't know the point in trying when I'm like this. The chances of him knowing sign language are slim to none.

Don't tell me…this man is deaf? Oh, how cruel! He was right, there was a very small chance of a random person knowing sign language. I felt the utmost of sympathy for him.

It would be a good excuse to find out, though. I could thank him in sign and see if he understands. If not…

Soon after he made a decision. He was going to try it whether he thought he had a chance or not. Whoever this was had balls, I gave him that. I wished him luck.

"Ah!" a gasp came to my side as someone was walking by. I looked up from the book I wasn't reading to see a man, very tall with blonde hair slightly darker than mine, was carrying a few books when they tumbled out of his grasp. They landed on the floor with a loud thud echoing in the silent building making a few heads turn only to resume what they were doing a second later.

The man bent down to pick them up, throwing a quick weary glance at me, and I instinctively got up to help. "Whoops, let me get that one for you." I picked up the one farthest from his reach and handed it to him as he kneeled on the ground with the others. He took it, his face rather stern and intimidating as he stared up at me with sharp sea blue eyes behind square glasses, and set it on the small stack he gathered on the floor. He then lifted his hands and made a sign, then nodded affirmatively. I heard his thoughts clearly above all others.

"Thank you." Please understand…

It was in that moment that I realized what just happened. I was the one the deaf man was thinking of, and I just fell into his little scheme.

Reviews will determine the update speed of the next chapter. The more I get, the faster the next chapter will most likely come out. That's just how I roll.

BOOK EXCERPTS USED:

A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Ersatz Elevator By Lemony Snicket

I was a Teenage Popsicle by Bev Katz Rosenbaum

Bound by Honor: An Erotic Novel of Maid Marian by Michelle Buinfiglio.