Chapter Text
Across time, the table in the middle of the park had witnessed many events in human lives, sometimes on warm days under the shade of the foliage, sometimes in the cold of winter when trees and vines had only their dark branches to show.
Its planks were faded by the sun's rays and the passage of time, but it was still sturdy and stubborn against the elements.
It received friends and lovers alike. Kids would play on top of it with blocks or dolls, or run around as police and thieves, or dragons and knights.
Exhausted parents would catch their breath in the shade, maybe gossiping among themselves over the worn-out table while their kids ran around the open space.
Sometimes the stray cat of the neighborhood would nap peacefully, overseeing its domain from the edge of the table. It would come with all types of news from around the vicinity, and also keep the mice away.
Now, girls and boys were separated by the wooden surface that once, two years before, had witnessed one of their first encounters.
The day when the girl with the silver hair decided to apologize to those boys.
Something a shabby old table does not witness that often, so it was easy to remember.
Since then, new faces had eventually joined, attachments had formed, and bonds had deepened.
Such was the predictability of human nature.
And now they all congregated around it, yet again, in the yearly ritual of gift giving and reciprocity.
Also known as White Day, the wind had said.
The boys had collected sweet treats and cute trinkets.
And now the offerings had made their way across the wooden surface, enclosed in fancy boxes or glossy packages.
The reaction of the girls was simple, one of happiness and gratitude.
The noisy redhead had said something, and as usual the solemnity of the moment had been broken, and laughter had come naturally.
The tension of some of the newer girls had eased.
It was not long before the tall boy and the small girl made their way farther away, breaking from the rest.
The affection in their eyes has been clear to anyone for the longest time, a profound bond, a gentle type of love.
The boy was still holding on to sweet offerings, and a moment alone was required for the ritual that White Day represented.
So they parted.
Around the table there was the friendly warmth that always surrounded this sweet group, but things were always changing, as they usually do with humans.
The silver-haired girl and the long-haired boy were now together.
This was new.
Something new to witness, but not at all surprising.
They had come a long way, from resentment and fear,
Followed by friendship and trust.
Only a year before, the long-haired boy had been longing for her while seated in the same place, elbows on the table.
There had still been an insurmountable distance between them, painful eyes following her silhouette.
Now they sat next to each other, hands intertwined under the table.
How things can change in merely a year. Oh, the wonders of youth and time.
Their eyes met, uncertainty in his eyes, a request for privacy on the tip of his tongue that he did not know how to put into words.
The red-haired boy suddenly exclaimed his desire to play on the bars.
This was neither uncommon nor surprising to the others.
He did, though, direct his exclamation toward the new girl with the long dark hair, giving her a welcomed distraction, and to the rest an excuse to give the new couple a moment alone.
It was intentional and tactful of him, more than the others gave him credit for.
Once alone, the offering was made.
Hard candy in an elegant presentation.
Such was the recursiveness of life sometimes.
The silver-haired girl hugged the glossy package.
The two of them relaxed, with elbows on the table, watching their friends play like parents watching over their children, whispering sweet words of affection and playful teasing.
This table and its benches, under the shade on warm days or beneath the naked branches during winter, would witness many such moments along the course of their lives.
But it was not until later that day that the bars told about the sweet long-haired girl.
She was gentle and soft.
They had seen her not long ago with a broken smile and shattered feelings.
Now the bars had seen her better, healed by the support of her peers.
The inquisitive eyes of the red-haired boy had stolen glances at her in between silly antics and playful mischief.
Just before they left for the day, he handed her his own gift, hidden from the sight of the others.
Her gaze had been one of surprise, at the unexpected attention.
But her tender smile had confirmed it was a well received gesture.
It was hard candy of his own.