I need to try and find a balance with my stories - perhaps one day I do a chapter of one, and the other day I do a chapter of the other. I don't know, on with the show:

 Magda finds you slumped in the kitchen when you return home, her car keys held loosely in her fist and standing half in and half out of her coat. You sit bonelessly in your chair, glaring at the kettle, and she quietly stands just on the edge of your peripheral vision.

 "Y/n? Is something wrong?" She breaks the silence in a quiet voice, almost a murmur but too-loud in the soundless kitchen. You sigh and let your palms hit the dining room table with a sharp slap, sitting up so fast the chair scrapes uncomfortably against the tiles of the floor.

 "I'm just so confused!" you yelp, drumming your fingers in irritation. "Why can't he be just a normal guy instead of some up-himself brainiac with some kind of ego issue?"

 You catch Magda smiling gently, her eyes warming. She slips into the chair opposite and reaches her wrinkled hands out towards you. "Ah. This is the Stuart boy?"

 You nod hotly, breathing so hard it's difficult to not imagine steam pouring from your mouth. Magda takes a deep breath and hums thoughtfully, eyes cast to the ceiling, and you raise an eyebrow, still drumming. Her hand presses yours to stop the sporadic movement of your fingers.

 "You say he has an ego?" she quizzes thoughtfully, and you nod, jaw tight.

 "Well, he seems to love himself and dislike everybody," you mutter through your clenched teeth. Magda smiles wider, looking pleased.

 "You see? He is afraid," she says, tapping your hand. Your face creases.

 "Afraid?"

 "Yes. Afraid that if he tells you how he feels, you'll say no because he has spent so long being rude. And that will break his ego," Magda explains in a warm voice. You click your tongue and stare at her, unconvinced.

 "Right..."

 "Did you not say he was anti-social?" Magda presses, and you nod once again, things clicking in your mind. "Then he isn't used to making the moves. He's so scared that he can only talk to you by being a mean little boy." This makes you snort.

 "Why didn't he just...I don't know, say it then, if he likes me so much?" you sigh, exasperated. You lean back in your chair hard, your back hitting the wooden edges of the chair painfully, but keep your hand under Magda's, feeling safe from the warmth and wisdom it possesses.

 "You must do it yourself. Make it clear to him that you like him and it's okay to say that to you." Magda strokes your hand and gets up, keys jingling inbetween her fingers, and sweeps off with a nod to you, leaving you biting your lip and wishing you could believe her.

*

 Your mood is surprisingly good the next morning, and you decide to leave for work early, the sky faded and pastel-coloured like orange, pink and blue paint has been watered down and streaked above the horizon, the outlines of buildings and trees still almost pitch black and unrecognisable.

 The library is open, the world of Google still quiet yet dotted with people, all of them with serious expressions and curious eyes, as if on a mission, each of them carrying books, coffee or a laptop case. When you enter timidly, confused by the sound of music flowing from a speaker, you notice one of the cleaners is still wiping down the tables and chairs, twitching her hips in time with the music. You drop your bag on the desk and peel off your coat, nodding in time to it, unused to the sound of music with a backdrop of the usually silent library, and feel your mood increasing, Stuart far from your mind. Ish. Not entirely.

 You soon find yourself getting into the song, your own hips moving independantly and arms swaying in time, pulled into the beat by your cheery mood. It was difficult to resist picking up a hairbrush from your bag and singing into it, hands flying about and stepping back and forth in time with the dancing, particularly when the cleaner has caught you and joins in with a can of polish, both of you bursting into amateur dancing and mouthing along sassily, the two of you suddenly bursting into laughter and clutching at each other.

 You are laughing with your new friend far too much to notice Stuart leaning against the door frame of the library, hands in his pockets and a half-smirk on his face, unable to tear his eyes away. He pushes himself off the wall and leaves far too swiftly for you to turn around in time and notice him.

I had Come On Over by Christina Aguilera in my head when I was writing this, it's been stuck there for weeks. Yes, you were doing sudden dancing with a random middle-aged cleaner in the middle of an empty library at half five in the morning. And yes, Stuart was up at that time too.

Happy birthday, Kate Middleton's newborn; I'm feeling extra British right now.