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[color=004b80][center][h3]University Library[/h3][/center][/color]
There is a certain emotional spectrum better left without a second visit. Though it's a commodity for school hallways to maintain an unforgiving chill, returning to their cold and sterile view was never an act Winter had expected for himself. Again, this was more than likely part of Yuna's expectations. An older sibling, indeed. She constantly attempted to aid Winter in dealing with his demons. Exposure therapy, as it was called. Roaming through those university corridors, it was safe to say that the young author felt small in both stature and soul, his presence quickly overshadowed by those of an intellectual pursuit. 

With fingers anxiously holding onto the strap of his shoulder bag, Winter took one unsure step after the other, his eyes maintaining a gaze on the floor as he proceeded through campus. A single shift of view would prove that those passing him by paid him little mind, and no heed. They did however tend to tower over him, just like in the olden days. Yet another reason creeping through his mind would proceed to reach the surface. Another reason as to why Winter retired to the safety of his fictional universe, where he was the master of what came to occur. Those converse clad feet promptly halted their stride upon reaching a closed door, Winter's raven eyes rising to meet the library sign staring back at him. How many hours had be spent at the library, back at his high school? It was difficult, to tell. Every break, every hour given when he was allowed to study on his own, was spent within the safe embrace of books and silence. 

Of course, one is to note that Winter was never an exceptional student. Indeed, he is what one would consider average, with no delusions of grandeur. His presence at a school like this would never surpass the role of visitor, one whom treads past the threshold of their holy ground only to gaze upon the wonders beyond. As he wasn't a student, Winter would not be allowed to bring any of the books with him home, though remaining in place was not a horrible thought. It was, after all, a library. One could take into consideration a question Miles, his brother, once asked. Why not just buy all the books he wanted? Gods knew he could afford it and then some, and while it was difficult to express, Winter enjoyed contributing to a library's presence, in his life. Buying the book he wanted removed the feelings surrounding it, the atmosphere coming with spending long hours in a library's warm lap of hearth and home. 

Placing a slender hand on the door, Winter gently pushed it open to be met by an impressive sight, indeed. Unable to hide the ever growing smile on his lips, the young man's stride appeared somewhat more secure as he delved deeper into this nexus of knowledge. Themes stretching from Fantasy to Realism, with History, Poetry and Politics rowing massive shelves were all evident throughout the library's stretch. It was, in a word, quite beautiful. Winter slid his hand into the shoulder bag loosely hanging at his side and acquired the headphones he had grown closely attached to throughout the months they had spent atop his head. Now, he felt complete. Surrounded by not only the written stories of geniuses from an age of glorious literature, but also the atmospheric music pouring into his ears calmed a soul previously feeling a crashing wave of turmoil against the shores of his consciousness. 

"Call of Cthulu..?" Winter's silent voice managed to leave his pale lips in a mere whisper, as his widened eyes fixed their gaze upon Lovecraft's masterpiece blatantly staring back at him from the shelf. Tracing the pads of those thin fingers across the spine of the book, Winter carefully pulled the text from place before opening it to view the sentence within, offering an all too familiar sound of paper giving way as he did. "They have an entire section of sci-fi horror..!" The author continued, his silent voice excited as he trailed those beady eyes across the shelves with a child's admiration washing over him.