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According to the digital clock on the first floor lobby of the library, it was July twenty-seventh when Chase stopped going into stories.
Nox wasn't worried. He always took at least one day off a week. Said it was an 'important appointment.'
Nox didn't see what could be more important than earning narratonin and finding the rest of his siblings, but he supposed six out of seven days a week wasn't bad.
The issue, then, was that it wasn't one day.
It was now July thirty-first. Nox had checked three times to make sure he'd read the date correctly. The month was ending and Nox hadn't seen Chase in four whole days (five, if he was to be a no-show today as well). That's five days too long, if you asked Nox.
Maybe he'd gotten sick again? That could explain why he hasn't been doing any books.
Though, of course, were that to be the case, Nox was rather hurt that Chase did not notify him of this change in their regular routine.
Nox did so enjoy his routines. Every morning, he and Violet would climb through the vents up to the first floor and watch the clock change from eight fifty-nine to nine am.
At first, Nox thought nine was a rather bizarre number to want to catch, but Violet explained that that was when the humans started showing up.
Why she enjoyed watching what she perceived to be 'disgusting creatures,' Nox really didn't know.
Regardless, they'd catch the hour change, and then Violet would tell him a story. It took him longer than he would have liked to admit to figure out that the stories were not, in fact, factual accounts of the library employees and patrons, but rather Violet exercising a supposedly 'healthy' amount of creativity, as she put it. He'd once heard her mumbling something about it being good for 'keeping the mind fresh and the outfits sharp.'
Unfortunately, that meant Nox couldn't complain too much about it. While he didn't appreciate being lied to, he did have to admit that all story telling is a lie of sorts (though at least you learn to expect falsehoods with written literature), and he wouldn't be caught dead without one of Violet's showstopping outfits. Chase deserved better than a boyfriend in a drab suit of armor (even if the crescent moon on the back was rather dashing). It just wasn't very cuddle friendly attire.
Violet's latest tale ended with a rather scandalous elopement between the janitor and the woman who frequents the historical fiction section of the library. It felt a little abrupt, if you asked Nox, but luckily for Violet's temper— and Nox's unslapped face— she hadn't asked.
At ten fifteen, Violet always heads back down to the storage closet, claiming she 'couldn't possibly be around such nasty homunculi for a single second longer.'
At ten sixteen— once Violet is completely out of sight— Nox rolls his eyes.
Honestly, if Violet could have seen Nox during his life on the streets, she'd perhaps think twice before condemning the miscellaneous library goers as 'the most vile and unseemly beings this world has ever had the misfortune of harboring.'
He… was a little jealous, if he were to be completely honest. The future held many marvels, and one that Nox found particularly enjoyable was the seemingly endless supply of pre-warmed water that flows out of nearly every pipe.
Simply divine. He'd never felt so clean in all his life. Though, it would be even nicer if he could actually feel the water. It had to be positively scalding for him to register it as barely lukewarm. Unless he was in a story, of course. Which he wasn't today, because somebody hadn't activated the spell page in days!
He and Violet had had no choice but to extend their Friday library explorations to the rest of the week just to keep from going insane in the dark basement storage room.
Ergo, at eleven thirty, Nox sneaks into the third drawer of the left desk near the front of the library. After somebody (not him) left chocolate crumbs in there, the library employees had begun to set traps.
Why they thought a spring and bar mechanism would be effective against a key, he wasn't sure. Then again, they couldn't have known he was a key, so perhaps he could allow them a little grace— so as to spare their dignity, and all that.
And though he really would have preferred more chocolate, the traps were always supplied with a sizable chunk of cheese. Tasty enough, but not really comparable to the King Bars Chase had given him.
Speaking of Chase, he'd better head down to the storage room. If the spell page lit up and he wasn't back yet, he'd get a doozy of a lecture from Violet.
Nox looked at the clock on the wall. The dull electronic display read eleven thirty-seven.
Hm.
Nox doesn't go back downstairs until twelve, so he has some time to kill. Usually he and Violet just wander around and make fun of people together, but she insisted on watching the spell page day in and day out for any signs of activity.
Nox couldn't say he blamed her. It was so unlike Chase to just drop off the face of the earth like this. Realistically, he could come back at any minute…
So why did Nox find it so hard to wait for him?
After the third day of Chase disappearing, Nox had decided to spend most of his time upstairs. Then he could pretend that every day is Friday, and he's up here because Chase has his 'important appointment,' and not because he'd gone and left Nox.
If every day is Friday, then Nox doesn't have to sit by the spell page and wait for hours on end, just to be met with disappointment.
He'd been abandoned before. This was nothing new.
He survived it then, and he could survive it now.
…As long as he didn't think about it. Or Chase. Or Violet down in the storage room, sitting on the shelf in his stead, still holding out hope that they can pull through this.
Nox shook his head. The clock on the wall read eleven forty-two, July thirty-first.
Friday. Not Thursday.
Because Chase wasn't around.
And Chase only leaves him on Friday.