Hopping out the door, Xan tugged on his black and red jacket, the scent of leather enveloping him. He tucked his helmet under his arm. If he quickened his pace, he'd make it into town before the bookstore closed. He'd done a quick search online and it turns out there was a quaint little used bookstore not too far from the university. The brunet hoped it was like all good used bookstores; that is to say, it was equipped with books stacked in haphazard stacks reaching for the ceiling and a feline or two prowling between customers' legs.
It was Jasmine's birthday in a few...hours, and while she had repeatedly demanded he study and actually attend his finals instead of flying home to celebrate her birthday, that didn't mean he couldn't send her a present. Or five. He had meant to get the shopping done earlier but if Xan hadn't been studying, finishing final projects or papers, or completing his exams, he'd been sleeping like the dead.
To be fair, he'd already sent her a little something in the mail, but when he had talked to her earlier in the day, she'd been so excited about a newly-discovered poet. An Astronomer-Poet of Persia. He could still hear the fervour in her voice, echoing a passage from her school-loaned text:
"Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain - This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies - The Flower that once has blown forever dies."
It was a fairly well-known work. One Xan was mostly certain he'd be able to find in the bookstore. He's have it shipped out to her by Fed Ex. It would be worth it. Xan could just imagine the joy on her face. He crossed the road, heading into the student parking lot, eyes honing in on his bike...his bike that wasn't there.
Stopping dead in his tracks, Xan's eyes widened. Where was his bike? He always parked it right by the streetlight closest to the dorms. Fighting down panic, the brunet hastily closed the distance between himself and the street lamp. My bike. Oh god...where's my bike? I can't find my bike. Why can't I find... He came to a dead halt, just a few yards away from "Scarlet Fever", the silent litany in his head trailing off. Brows furrowing, Xan refrained from rubbing his eyes, feeling more than a little dumbfounded. ...my bike with a strange person sitting on it. Why is there a strange guy...girl? sitting on it? They can't be sitting on it. It's my bike...