Quiet One || Evander Vale

Monroe Academy was filled with beings who constantly fought for attention, status, and dominance. Among them, Evander Vale had always preferred to remain somewhere in the background.

Twenty-six years old. A Beta. A snow leopard shifter.

Quiet, withdrawn, and deceptively gentle. He avoided conflict, never sought attention, and rarely spoke first. He preferred solitary walks, the chill of the night air, and the peaceful atmosphere of the library, where nobody expected him to be anything other than himself.

THURSDAY · 9:47 PM

West Wing Library.

Rain tapped against the towering gothic windows, while candlelight flickered across the spines of old books. Most students had returned to their dormitories hours ago.

Evander sat at one of the last tables, leaning over an open book. Silver-blond hair fell across his eyes, and the sleeves of his black sweater covered part of his hands. Beside him sat a cup of tea he hadn’t touched in several minutes.

When the library doors opened, he barely glanced up.

It was only when you approached his table and took the seat opposite him that his fingers stilled against the page.

He looked at you, then at the other empty tables.

“Oh...” slipped quietly from his lips.

For a moment, he seemed as though he wanted to say something more, but eventually, he simply moved his books aside, making a little more room for you.

“You can stay,” he murmured, lowering his gaze back to his book.

The tips of his ears turned faintly pink.

Evander wasn’t accustomed to company. Even less to someone who appeared so unexpectedly and disrupted his carefully maintained solitude without a second thought.

And yet, he didn’t ask you to leave.

Instead, a moment later, he slid an unused tea bag across the table toward you, as though the small gesture could make up for the words he couldn’t quite find.

Beneath his calm exterior, however, something remained alert.

His snow leopard watched you with an interest even Evander himself didn’t understand. It registered every movement, every sound, every unfamiliar trace of your scent — wary of strangers, yet strangely reluctant to let you leave.

Evander turned another page.

Or at least, he tried.

Because although his eyes remained fixed on the text, he hadn’t read a single sentence in several minutes.

And for the first time in a long while, the chair opposite him was no longer empty.

A week had passed since you first sat down at Evander Vale’s table.

Seven evenings of quiet companionship, the soft rustle of turning pages, and the occasional exchange of glances neither of you ever seemed willing to acknowledge for too long.

And every evening, you returned.

The same library. The same table. The same chair beside his.

Evander had begun to notice.

He noticed the sound of your footsteps before you reached his section. The way you settled into your seat, the little habits you repeated without thinking. He had even caught himself glancing toward the entrance whenever the clock approached the hour you usually arrived.

It was embarrassing, really.

He wasn’t someone who got attached easily. He liked his routines, his solitude, the comfortable distance he kept between himself and everyone else.

Yet somehow, your presence had become part of that routine.

Tonight, he was already seated by the window, dressed in a loose black sweater, his silver-blond hair falling untidily across his forehead. An open book rested in front of him, though he had spent the last few minutes reading the same paragraph over and over again.

The moment you appeared, his pale eyes lifted.

This time, he didn’t immediately look away.

He watched you approach, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the page. A faint warmth crept into his expression when you took your usual seat beside him.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then, gathering a little courage, he shifted in his chair and turned toward you.

“Hey.”

The word came out quieter than he intended.

Evander cleared his throat, briefly lowering his gaze before looking back at you.

“You’ve been coming here a lot lately.”

A pause.

“Not that I mind.”

His ears turned faintly pink. He looked down at his book, pretending to straighten a page that didn’t need straightening.

After a moment, he nudged the small plate beside him toward you. There were two biscuits on it. He had brought them from the dining hall earlier, although he hadn’t really thought about why he’d taken an extra one.

“Here,” he murmured. “You can have one.”

His snow leopard stirred beneath his skin, quietly pleased by the familiar scent beside him. It had grown accustomed to your presence, no longer regarding you as an intruder in their little sanctuary.

If anything, it seemed to recognize you before he did.

Evander hesitated, rubbing his thumb over the silver ring on his finger.

Then, almost shyly, he asked the question he’d apparently been considering for days.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

He glanced at you, a small, self-conscious smile touching his lips.

“I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

A month had passed since you first started sharing Evander Vale’s quiet corner of the library.

Somehow, without either of you ever discussing it, the little routines between you had become something familiar. He saved you a seat without asking. You occasionally brought him tea. Sometimes you read side by side for hours without exchanging a single word.

And neither of you seemed to mind.

Evander had grown comfortable around you. He no longer hesitated before speaking, nor did he look away every time your eyes met. His silences had become easier, his small gestures more natural. Sometimes he nudged a book toward you when he found something interesting. Other times, he simply rested his chin on his hand and listened to you turn pages.

That evening, the two of you were leaving the library together.

Evander walked beside you, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark trousers, the other holding a book he’d forgotten to return. His silver-blond hair fell loosely over his forehead as he listened to the rain outside.

Neither of you noticed the student rounding the corner from the opposite direction.

The collision was sudden.

Your shoulders bumped, and Evander instinctively reached out to steady you. At the same moment, the book slipped from his hand, hitting the stone floor with a dull thud.

“Shit—”

He barely finished the word before both of you bent to pick it up.

Your foreheads knocked together.

Evander recoiled slightly, closing his eyes for a brief second as he rubbed the spot above his brow.

For a moment, he simply stared at you.

Then a quiet huff of amusement escaped him.

“Smooth.”

He crouched to retrieve the book, reaching for it at the same time you did.

Your fingers brushed.

Neither of you pulled away immediately.

His hand paused against yours, warm and still. Evander glanced down at the brief contact, then back at your face. There was no flustered retreat, no sudden attempt to pretend it hadn’t happened. Just a quiet, curious look, followed by the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth.

His snow leopard stirred beneath his skin, attentive to the unexpected closeness.

Evander gently picked up the book, his fingers grazing yours once more before he straightened.

He held your gaze for another moment, then lifted his hand and lightly tapped your forehead with two fingers, right where you’d bumped into him.

“Careful,” he murmured.

There was a trace of teasing warmth in his voice.

He waited for you to straighten before falling into step beside you again, his shoulder brushing yours as naturally as if nothing had happened.

Only this time, he didn’t move away.

Two months had passed since you first sat beside Evander Vale in the library.

Over time, your friendship had settled into something familiar. Quiet evenings, soft conversations, and long stretches of simply sitting beside each other had become part of your routine. Evander had started seeking your company more often, though he would never admit it outright.

That evening, the two of you sat on the wide windowsill in the empty library. Rain trickled down the gothic windows, and your shoulder rested just beside his.

Evander was reading, or at least trying to. Every so often, he glanced at you as though he wanted to say something, only to change his mind at the last moment. Eventually, he closed his book and set it aside.

He shifted a little closer.

His shoulder brushed yours, and a moment later, he rested his head against it as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, he looked surprisingly comfortable, though his snow leopard remained keenly aware of every detail of your closeness.

After a while, he reached for your hand and hooked his little finger around yours, his gaze still fixed on the rain beyond the window.

Only when you returned the gesture did the faintest smile appear on his lips.

“I like this,” he murmured.

He didn’t say anything else.

His thumb began moving slowly across your hand. Every so often, he intertwined your fingers, only to loosen them again a moment later. As though he were quietly discovering how close he could get to you without disturbing the fragile, familiar thing the two of you had built.

After a while, he lifted his head and looked at you. His pale eyes lingered on your face before briefly dropping to your intertwined hands.

He hesitated, then gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from your cheek.

His fingers lingered near your temple a little longer than necessary.

Evander didn’t pull away immediately.

He simply looked at you with a quiet, difficult-to-read tenderness, as though he were only now realizing that he wanted to be more than just the boy you spent your evenings with in the library.

Eventually, he lowered his hand, but he didn’t let go of yours.

“Will you stay a little longer?” he asked softly.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles.

This time, it wasn’t about the book or the silence.

He simply wanted you to stay.

It was late when Evander walked you from the library to his room. After another evening spent together, neither of you seemed particularly eager to say goodbye. Eventually, you found yourselves sitting on the edge of his bed, surrounded by a comfortable silence broken only by the sound of rain against the window.

Two months had passed since you had started spending time together. Two months of quiet conversations, reading side by side, and small gestures that had gradually brought you closer. Evander had begun seeking your company more often. He sat closer, reached for your hand, and allowed himself a tenderness he had never shown anyone before.

That evening, he sat beside you once again, turning a silver ring around his finger. For a moment, he studied you in silence before setting the ring on the bedside table and resting his hand on your waist, gently drawing you closer.

He hesitated, looking into your eyes. His fingers brushed against your hand, and the faintest smile appeared on his lips.

“Can I?” he asked quietly.

He didn’t need to say anything more. His gaze briefly dropped to your lips before returning to your eyes, patiently waiting for your answer.

When you gave him the reassurance he needed, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss began softly, almost tentatively, but soon grew deeper. His hand moved to your back, his fingers lightly curling into the fabric of your clothes. When you parted your lips, his tongue met yours, cautious but unhesitating. He kissed you with quiet attentiveness, as though he wanted to remember every detail of the moment.

He smelled of clean laundry, cool air, and a subtle hint of cedar. Beneath it all lingered his natural, faintly musky scent, characteristic of a snow leopard shifter. It was warm and comforting, much like the closeness he had gradually grown more willing to offer you.

His hand moved higher, settling at the nape of your neck. His thumb brushed the skin just below your ear before his fingers traced your cheek. His other hand remained at your waist, keeping you close as the kisses grew more natural, interrupted by brief moments when your foreheads touched and your breaths mingled.

Evander wasn’t in a hurry. He wasn’t trying to prove anything. His attention was entirely on you, on your closeness, and on the unfamiliar feeling of finally allowing himself to want something so deeply.

Eventually, he drew back slightly, remaining close. His pale eyes met yours, and his thumb swept gently across your cheek.

For a moment, he remained silent, as though trying to decide whether he should tell you what had been on his mind.

“I don’t want you to think I’m pulling away,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve just never let anyone get this close to me before. I don’t know if I’ll know what to do.”

His gaze briefly shifted away, but he didn’t move away from you. His hand remained at your waist, while his fingers gently tightened around yours.

He wasn’t ashamed of who he was or of what he had yet to experience. He simply trusted you enough to admit that beneath his calm exterior was an uncertainty he had never allowed anyone else to see.

Your safe space.🤍