"You have got to be kidding me, not again."

Slamming his fist into the door, Daichi let out a frustrated growl. This was the third time this week that one of his roommates had unceremoniously locked him out of the room. Four others shared the suite with the junior, and yet none of them seemed to mind in the least that it was Daichi who seemed to always be the one stranded in the dorm hallway without his key. But to the latter it was getting a bit ridiculous. How hard was it to leave the room unlocked? It's not like anything ever happened at the dreary school; there were too many goody-two-shoes around for any major crimes to take place. Besides, it wasn't like their room had anything worth stealing anyway. Yet every single one of his suite mates felt it necessary to always always always lock the door, even when only popping out for a quick coffee. Daichi, who never liked carrying his dorm keys anyway, found this both inconvenient and frustrating. Especially when he left the room for all of five minutes to grab a few snacks from the good vending machine on the third floor, yet now was somehow magically locked out. Again.

Probably to rub salt in the wound, a short note was tacked to the door for Daichi, the handwriting sloppy as if written in a rush:

Last minute study lab for Bio. Kenma left too, something about a new game release. Hope you have your key ;)

~K

Ripping the note from the door Daichi shredded it in anger, letting the tiny pieces of paper float to the floor like confetti. "I'm going to murder him." He growled to the empty hallway. Not like he could prove it, but Daichi could swear he saw Kuroo smirk earlier when Daichi had left the room, and it wouldn't be entirely out of character if the wise-ass had actually made up the Biology lab just for the laugh at Daichi's expense. Running a hand over his eyes in exasperation, the junior gave the door handle one last jiggle as if to test and see if it had magically unlocked itself, before cursing loudly and stalking off down the hall towards the exit. If he couldn't sit in the comfort of his own room and pig out on salty cheese snacks, then there was no use standing around in the hallway looking like the idiot who forgot his key.

Swinging the door to the dorm building open with enough force it bounced off the wall, Daichi pushed his way through the crowd of annoying freshman who always seemed to congregate just outside the building. Maybe it was the piercing way his eyes glared at anyone who make contact with them, or perhaps it was the hostile aura he seemed to radiate with every step of his combat boots, but as soon as he approached the crowd of shrimps they immediately scattered, leaving a clear path for the angry upperclassman.

With no keys or wallet and only a few spare coins from the vending machine in his pocket, the list of places to blow off some steam was quickly dwindling. And while it was a pleasant enough late summer evening, the campus grounds were crawling with overly eager college students looking to make new connections and far too many couples not at all worried about public displays of affection. It all was too sickening to even consider taking a walk around the grounds. Without even having to think much about it, Daichi's feet instead lead him in the direction of the one place he knew would cure his foul mood.

Luckily, the Hobbit Hole stayed open late, and was still a new enough addition to campus it wasn't crawling with wannabe hipsters just yet. Having discovered the tiny bookshop back in high school, it quickly became Daichi's safe haven. So much so he had only told Suga and Asahi about it, and that was only after they kept pestering him to know where he disappeared to on the regular. If allowed, Daichi would spend hours in the store, wandering up and down the dusty aisles in search of nothing or everything, depending on his mood. He'd tried this at other bookstores, but the magic of finding just the right book quickly wore off when being followed through the store like a shoplifter. Someone like him wasn't supposed to be into books after all. He had too many piercings, too many tattoos, and chose leather jackets over tweed suits with elbow patches like other good bibliophiles. Yet when accidentally stumbling into the Hobbit Hole years ago, it was like discovering lost treasure. The owner didn't seem to care how he looked as long as he didn't spill coffee on any of the books and left his prized sarcophagus alone, and so for the first time in years, Daichi was free to browse for books to his heart's content.

The familiar jingle of the bell above the door alerted the elderly man behind the front counter to a customer, and when he saw it was his favorite, he gave Daichi a smile and a wave before returning to his crossword puzzle. Daichi returned the quiet man's gesture before immediately whisking off towards the furthest aisle of books. Even if he couldn't buy anything tonight, he knew if he asked they'd set anything aside for a later date. He was a regular and reliable customer after all.

Slowly Daichi made his way down the row of bookcases, keeping his eyes peeled for a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. To his complete horror, his previous copy had been used for a paper mache rendering of Japan by his two younger sisters, who had been devastated to learn it wasn't just some old book they had chosen at random, but their big brother's favorite novel. Unlike with his roommates, who seemed to live to irritate him, Daichi couldn't stay mad at the twins for even a moment, much to their relief. Silently mourning the loss, Daichi helped the twins finish their project, which earned top marks, and spent the next three months searching for a replacement copy. The unabridged version was hard to come by, and he had scoured the entire book store multiple times, but still nothing. Tadaari-San had insisted he remembered seeing a copy at some point on the inventory list, but Daichi was starting to think the old man was finally loosing it. Three months of searching without luck, and despite still actively looking, somehow Daichi knew today wouldn't be his lucky day either.

Nearing the back of the store now and stooping to try and get a look at the stack of books at the end of the aisle, Daichi's concentration was broken by an odd clicking sound emanating from somewhere close by. Metallic and sharp, it cut through the quiet of the store and grated at Daichi's ears like nails on a chalkboard. Maybe it was just a reaction to his already poor mood, but it was the last straw to an already frustrating day. Huffing angrily, Daichi gave up in his search and instead marched down the twisting aisles to give whoever it was making so much noise a piece of his mind. Not like this was a library or anything, but still. The clacking was only getting louder and more frequent, he couldn't be the only one who thought it bothersome.

Following the maze of shelving into the back of the store and the source of his annoyance, Daichi didn't see the extra large book jutting out from the bottom shelf until it caught on his shin, and he face planted into a stack of particularly dusty volumes on Russian literature with a spectacular crash. Letting out a string of curses, Daichi pushed the fallen stack of books aside and brushed off as much of the dust as he could from his clothes. Still cursing and now in an even fouler mood than before, it took him a few moments to realize the space had gone deadly quiet. The clacking had stopped. Stepping more carefully around the bookcase and turning a corner, Daichi was unsurprised to see nobody at all. Most likely scared off by his clumsiness, whoever had been creating so much noise had vanished before the angry junior could tell them off for being so annoying. The only trace that someone had been there just seconds before was the light still on over the typewriter and the faintest scent of lavender that still clung to the musty air.

The typewriter.

Of course it was the typewriter. Now that he was seeing the machine again, the still annoying, but now identifiable noise made sense. Someone had been writing.

While it wasn't the first time he'd come across the angry looking machinery, it was in fact the first time he'd ever seen someone use it in person. Or, almost seen. Just last week was the first time he'd even paid attention to the hunk of junk, having originally thought it was just for decoration. In his never ending search for the elusive revenge novel, Daichi had wandered closer to the typewriter's desk than normal and had taken a moment to glance at its pages of text. At that time he had been curious and a bit intrigued by the poetry left behind, but it had quickly slipped his mind as soon as he had left the store that evening. Sure, it had been a nice little poem someone had typed out, but not much worth his interest for more than a few minutes if he were honest. Now, staring at the piece of what he could only assume was the same writer, Daichi felt a jolt of electricity course through him when he recognized the words on the page.

Those born to wealth, and who have the means of gratifying every wish know not what is the real happiness of life,

Daichi was silent for a moment as he read and re-read the quote on the paper, now incredibly interested to know who typed it. This particular quote wasn't as well known by just anybody, except a select group of bibliophiles. It was one of Daichi's favorites, one he had written down several times himself, which is how he knew it was unfinished. Probably his fault for scaring whoever it was away. And while he knew it was a complete coincidence that someone wrote this specific segment today, it also somehow also felt purposeful.

"Damnit!" Swearing loudly, Daichi turned quickly from the typewriter and tried to find any more clues of where the writer might have run off to. All thoughts of how annoying the typist was now completely gone as he much more desperately wanted to confront whoever it was to ask them why; why that quote, and more importantly, why that book.

The desk itself sat in an odd corner of the bookstore, a meeting point for three different aisles of bookcases. Taking a chance on the one furthest from where he stumbled through, Daichi rushed down the aisle, pushing awkwardly against the narrowing bookcases as he half ran the crooked aisle in his haste.

Whether it was irony or fate playing a cruel joke on him, Daichi ran up and down the aisle without seeing anyone. Even doubling back and trying the second one, the only person he ran into was someone shelving textbooks, who could only sputter out a few senseless words when he shook them by the shoulders, demanding to know who else had been here.

Frustrated now for a completely different reason, Daichi slowly stomped back to the typewriter. Staring at the page again, brow furrowed in concentration, he tried to think of who he had seen in the bookstore before. Assuming it was the same person who wrote last week's poetry, Daichi could surmise it was a regular like him. But the more he thought, the more his mind came up blank. He wasn't exactly one who got along easily with new people, and always chose to visit the bookstore at odd hours to purposefully avoid running into someone that might want to spark a "friendly chat."

As he stood there stewing over his continuous bad luck, the disgruntled junior finally decided on a course of action, and hoped that it would catch the writer's attention. Taking a step closer to the desk, he let his hands rest gently over the keys of the typewriter, wondering for the first time in the power of fate. And then slowly, he began to type. The click and clacking sound filled the space again as Daichi typed out the final lines to the unfinished quote, this time the sounds of the typewriter not nearly as annoying as it was before.

just as those who have been tossed on the stormy waters of the ocean on a few frail planks can alone realize the blessings of fair weather.

~Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

***

"Well, well, well, look who's finally back. So you did forget your key again, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Kuroo." Finally returning to the dorms, Daichi was not at all surprised to find both Kenma and Kuroo back as well and the door finally unlocked. Pushing past Kuroo who lounged on the lumpy old couch with his feet dangling in the air, Daichi made sure to purposefully and roughly knock his knee against his roommate's head as he went to reach for a soda from the mini fridge. "I know you faked that Bio lab just to piss me off. That was a dick move."

But his anger didn't seem to phase Kuroo, who only barked a laugh as he tried to sit upright, "So it worked then, excellent."

"Why don't you—"

"You do know you could have just asked the floor advisor to unlock the door, right?" Kenma spoke quietly from his spot in the corner, not once taking his eyes off the handheld game consul he was playing, but still in-tune to the all too familiar way Daichi's voice was rising.

Taking the last spot on the couch and punching Kuroo lightly, Daichi snorted in contempt, "That snooty priss who always looks like she has a stick up her ass?" He took a long swig of his drink, turning his attention instead to finding the television remote. "I'd rather be locked out of the room."

"She's really nice actually, Asahi and I have political science with her." Kenma mumbled, sneaking a peak at his suite mate, who if he was being honest, was more Kuroo's friend than his, "She always offers to lend me her notes."

"Great, so not only does she think she's better than everyone, but she's a know-it-all too. Again, I'll just deal with being locked out."

Tossing the remote to Daichi from where he found it lodged between two cushions, Kuroo gave him a signature smirk, "You know the easiest solution would just be to start taking your dorm key with you? Ya know, like a normal person."

"Why would I do that?" He returned Kuroo's smirk with his own lopsided grin. As much as the tall idiot annoyed him to no end, the two were more alike than either would admit out loud, and both could tell Daichi's anger had fizzled to nothing but friendly bickering. Finally having a chance to relax and enjoy the vending machine snacks he'd bought earlier, Daichi tossed a bag of cheese puffs to Kuroo and Kenma each, kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and opened his own bag of snacks. "Being normal is so overrated."