Chapter Text
𝐄lizabeth grins as her boyfriend reaches over to kiss her cheek, tucking her silver hair behind her ear as he leans away to settle in the seat in front. "Beautiful as always, Elizabeth," he winks, causing her face to flush. She smiles and whispers a thank you- his olive eyes twinkle. James turns around, sitting more comfortably in his chair and chats to George.
"You've almost been dating for two years, yet you're still adorable," Rowan squeals next to her. Elizabeth chuckles and places her face in her palm, sighing contentedly at the ceiling above. The peace is short-lived as Rowan playfully shoves her shoulder, snapping her back to reality. "How've you been together for so long and not get tired of each other?"
She glances at the back of James' head, at the position of his hairs on his neck that she knows off by heart. She twists to speak to Rowan, "I'm not sure. Communication, maybe? Trust-um-"
"Yeah, yeah," Rowan rolls her eyes. The ginger picks her biro from their desk and uses it to poke Elizabeth's cheek. "That's what every couple says," another poke," what's specific for you two?"
Elizabeth replies, "I don't know if there's something like that. But we care for each other; we like each other; we make each other happy and, for me, that's all I could ever ask for." She grins again, memories of her almost-two-year relationship with James floating through her mind. "You remember my crush on him? That's the most I've liked any guy." Rowan hums and stops tormenting her best friend's cheek. She checks their surroundings, the back of their homeroom, the people around them talking boisterously in the last five minutes before their school day officially commences.
"Well, Mrs Johnson said we're getting a new boy today, remember?" At Elizabeth's nod, she continues, "Ellie, what if he's the one! You and James are obviously meant to be, that's clearer than the stars in the sky, and what if this guy-I hope he's hot-is the one for me?!" Rowan checks at her friend's disbelieving expression, "I know it sounds weird, but then we can finally go on double dates!" She laughs, wondering if Rowan only ever wanted a boyfriend for the possibility of double dates or because of the endless rom-coms she'd watched. Though, the comment on her and James makes the butterflies in her stomach flutter because she agrees.
"I've got a feeling in my gut," Rowan pokes her left cheek again, forcing Elizabeth to stop laughing, "I have a strange feeling this guy will actually be alright..."
Ocean eyes shimmer, "And if you end up liking him, then I'll make your ship name!"
Rowan beams, her face illuminating like fireflies, and she whispers, "You're the bestest best friend in the entire universe, you know that, right?" She halts her poking to wrap an arm around Elizabeth's shoulder, bringing their cheeks together in a side-hug.
"Yeah, I know," she muses, resting herself on Rowan's shoulder. Rowan snorts, placing her head on top of Elizabeth's. Silver crashes with red, cascading down their backs. It's a stunning collision of hues, bold and light. Roses and stars. Burning fire and the luminous moon. Maybe someone else would've remarked on how the red resembled blood, even flinching at seeing the colour so close to the silver-haired girl, a sight viewed numerous times.
The bell rings three times and echoes as students retreat to their respective seats. Elizabeth willingly reciprocates smiles in her direction, her kindness like heat they crave. She knows she's lucky-surrounded by her best friends, behind her boyfriend-she would never ask to switch seats. Cream walls of the classroom encase them in softness, desks clean apart from pen marks and gum sticking underneath the table that nobody confesses as their own. They wait patiently for their teacher to arrive, merry chatter and giggles filling the room.
The BANG of the door hitting the wall ceases all conversation as the occupants snap their heads to the figure standing at the entrance.
It's Aubrey.
Cheeks pink, shoulder-length, chestnut hair static, chocolate eyes wide, and she's panting, having just sprinted up the two flights of steps in less than three minutes. She exhales heavily, greedily gulping oxygen and surveys the people in her class. Clutching the door handle, Aubrey mutters loud enough for them to hear, "I saw him."
Of course. Of course, Aubrey had snuck around Reception to catch a glimpse of the new boy. It's such an undeniable element of hers that has Elizabeth fondly rolling her eyes. She straightens her back, leaning her chair against the back of the wall, asking what everyone else is waiting for, "And?"
The brunette grins, tiredness instantly absent and smoothly closes the door with a small click. Aubrey walks next to Elizabeth, and before she slumps into her seat, she winks at her fellow friends and peers and, emphasising the last word, announces, "he's hot."
Whispers immediately break out in the classroom, buzzing sounds of girls squealing and boys muttering. Aubrey reaches in front of Elizabeth to tap Rowan's shoulder, "Your type are blondes, right?"
Rowan's face widens into a grin as she leans to the middle, "is he...?" At Aubrey's small smirk, she giggles and clasps her hands together, icy eyes glimmering, then she composes herself, taking a deep breath. "Need to make a good impression," she mutters, trying to flatten her curly hair and tucking a strand behind her ear.
"Relaax," Elizabeth teases, resting in her chair, "I bet he'll be 'enraptured by your beauty,' she laughs when Rowan's cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms, that particular quote from her recent essay on love. Being known for the hopeless romantic in their friendship group, it was typical of her. "D'you know where Jasmine is?"
"Went to visit her grandparents in the weekend, she'll be back soon," Aubrey rolls her eyes, leaning back to her seat, "or she could be skiving, though I doubt her parents would allow that."
Before either can reply, the door cracks open. Everyone's spines neaten, all four legs of chairs slam into the floor, chatter terminates. Mrs Johnsons peeks in, eyeing the tables and exclaims, "Ah! Good, you're ready!" She releases the door to walk through, wearing a flowery layered skirt with black leggings and a white top. A pencil is behind her ear, toffee hair in a ponytail. As the teacher makes her way across the classroom to her laptop and desk, she motions to the door, "I mentioned last week that we would be getting a new classmate. Please make him feel welcome."
Eyes ogle the person at the entrance, who raises his skull to view his classmates.
Elizabeth hears Rowan catch her breath.
School jumper draped over his shoulder, the long-sleeved shirt he's wearing is rolled to his elbows, arms more than well defined. Her gaze wanders to his collarbone, how the top button's undone, a tie laying decently on him. The guy(probably a little shorter than her) has the messiest blonde hair she's ever seen. It's haywire, all over the place, a cowlick sticking out ungracefully, but it oddly suits him. Elizabeth's eyes roam over his face, firm yet soft, and reach two emerald orbs.
She jumps a little when realising he's staring directly at her, and for a fleeting second, she sees something. Like a ghost rippling over green grass, small but heavy and containing something-something she doesn't know.
The fleeting second is gone; a cloud camouflages him-he removes his gaze-as if whatever transpired hadn't; she's left wondering if anything happened at all.
He delivers a small smile and follows Mrs Johnson's seating instructions in the middle row.
Elizabeth furrows her eyebrows, shaking her head, silver locks flying, and circles the room to assess her classmates. Aubrey has a smirk on her face. Girls inspect him, whispers from boys with the words 'football team' involved. When she lands on Rowan, she stifles a laugh.
"Guuyyyss," she drawls, bringing her hands to squeeze her cheeks and captures Aubrey's attention too, "you believe in love at first sight?"
𝐈t's been two weeks.
He seems nice. He's approached everyone and held a conversation with them apart from herself. In fact, she's unsure if he's trying to be subtle anymore.
And maybe it hurts a little to see him laughing and chatting with everyone else, but then she nears, and he instantly walks off like she's a plague he's avoiding. Elizabeth grew up being kind, so if someone blatantly ignores her, even when she tries her hardest to be caring towards them, it may injure her pride a bit.
If she knew his name, then she would make his ship name with Rowan. The girl is infatuated. Elizabeth's happy for her joy, understanding what it feels like to care for someone, that they're the reason you smile. Aubrey tried to set them up, but she told the ginger they need to become close friends for her to do that.
The blonde guy excels at P.E too. One day, walking with James, he had told her about his strength and speed-and they're sure to win all their matches if he joins the football team. For some reason, blondie never bothers with clubs or anything of the sort. James also mentioned the boy being in his art class; they'd gotten along decently well and, sneakily, James had taken pictures of some of his pieces of work. When he showed Elizabeth, she marvelled at the sincerity exuding from the photos because his drawings seemed so perfect and every stroke was so carefully drawn it all fit together.
Elizabeth's never asked for his name. Since they've never talked, she doesn't find it necessary-she'd preferably greet him herself than her friends tell her everything.
(Though Jasmine seems as clueless as her right now. Making new friends isn't really her thing.)
However, Elizabeth also cares. The day she arrives at school early because her alarm rang an hour earlier, she notices him perching alone on a bench. Blonde hair shields his face, his head dipped, cradling an object in his palms. Elizabeth stops in her path, assessing the way he's hunched and how still he is. She doesn't know whether he wants to be unaccompanied, how long he's been sitting or why he's this early. But she cares(and no-one will ever tell her that she cares too much).
Elizabeth pads towards him, slow and loud, so if he hears her and wants to be companionless for a bit, he can signal- she'd leave. Despite that, he's fixed in his position, bag laying at his feet. To notify him, she slips her bag off her shoulders and places it near his. His face moves an inch, but he doesn't move or say a word. Elizabeth takes it as an invitation and seats herself adjacent to him.
She admires the school in front. A vast concrete field girded by grass and in the core is a canopy that shelters the Reception. On either side of it are pillars, painted on each is the logo- a ruby shield with an eagle in the middle, wings soaring. Behind is an establishment with unblemished windows. It's two storeys, bricks mahogany, the top moulds into a triangle, pointing to the clouds.
That's when she peers at his hands. An orb glints in the morning rays. It's attached to a gold loop, intricate designs of the sun, moon and stars sway in the azure centre, seeming ancient yet brand new. Elizabeth recognises the item from one of the pictures James had showed, having to admit it was drawn magnificently. From the shading of blue to the elaborate details of the symbols to its delicate spherical shape. It's beautiful.
He cradles the heirloom, holding it like a tenuous petal. Elizabeth hears something leave his mouth, something she would've missed if she hadn't strained her ears, and she's grateful the leaves aren't stirring. But when her name leaves his lips in the most subdued of tones, she furrows her eyebrows and responds with, "...yeah?" The lad jumps, grip tightening on the earring, his head snaps to hers, shock flashing in his jade eyes, and she smiles sheepishly, embarrassed to have suspended his relaxed state. He turns, looking back at his hands, which clamp together to block his possession from view.
"Sorry," his voice is a bit husky, but he clears his throat and continues, "Didn't know you were there."
Elizabeth bumps her shoulder with his, trying to create a friendly atmosphere. "S'fine," she shrugs, arms stretched on either side of her and digging into the wooden bench. "How'd you know my name?"
She misses his flinch.
"Oh wait, you didn't know I was here! My bad," she chuckles awkwardly but fixes her eyes on his tousled hair. Don't assume you know what's going on, Elizabeth. He could've been thinking of someone else. "Is something wrong?" He hesitates, then shakes in denial. The pair are silent for a minute, Elizabeth conjuring ways to comfort him. His entire presence is eerie. She knows something is off yet doesn't know what, so she purses her lips and drums her fingers against the bench, deep in thought. It's when he lets out a strangled chuckle that she jumps.
"Your friends mention you a fair amount," he says, lifting his head to see the school, a distant look in his eyes, "they say your kind."
Elizabeth shrugs, a faint pink settling on her cheeks, glad that's the image she spreads, happy to be viewed in that way. She responds, "Some of my friends have mentioned you. They said you're creative..." She stops her mouth before she can announce how James and Aubrey had taken pictures of his work. Elizabeth doesn't want him to get angry at either of them.
He hums nonchalantly, tapping his foot against the concrete floor. "Was it you that James showed my drawings to?"
"Oh-yes! I didn't know he asked you. I thought he, umm, did it without your...permission?"
He chuckles, "He did try at first." she giggles as he rolls his eyes, a smile blooming, "but I caught him, and he said he wanted to show you, so I let him."
Elizabeth flushes a bit, fidgeting with the sleeve of her school jumper. "That's sweet of him. James knows I like art," she whispers, a sudden wave of gratitude swallowing her as her boyfriend enters her mind. A small smile settles over her face.
"Oh?" He raises a brow, "why's that sweet?" A breathy laugh escapes him, and, for the second time since he's arrived in the school, the blonde turns to Elizabeth, a different edge to him "don't tell me you have a crush on him?"
She laughs, an adoring notion in her eyes, "I don't have a crush on him-"
"That's-"
"He's my boyfriend." Elizabeth chimes, a smile gracing her face. She tucks her hair behind an ear and leans on one arm. Her friends never forget to remind her how lucky she is, having a boyfriend for such a long time, the pair still not tired of the other. Elizabeth wonders whether it's love.
"Is he a nice boyfriend?" The guy utters. She's unsure whether his voice is quieter or if it's her imagination.
She beams. The guy confronts her with a rustle; she shifts to him too and answers with utmost pride and confidence, blue meeting green, "the best." Their faces don't move, Elizabeth waits for him to change his gaze, yet his focus is wholly on her eyes. Her grin dims lightly because the atmosphere is suddenly intense. Way too intense.
"That's good," he mutters. A smile coats his features, but it's the most artificial smile ever seen, lips twitching to the left side and leaving just as quickly.
Elizabeth's eyebrows disappear into her forehead, something prickling her insides-did he snarl? His response was so monotonous, so dull that it irks her. "What? Got an issue with him or something?" Her tone is harsher, attacking, defensive. No-one makes fun of the people important to her.
The lad blinks, "no issues with James." He gulps, "Seems nice."
"He's more than nice," She hisses.
He hesitates, blinking thrice, then twists to face the school again. "What's so nice about him?" He questions, voice softer.
"Pardon?"
"I mean-" he waves a hand in the air, failing to find the correct words "-Nah, never mind."
It's empty as Elizabeth racks her mind to move the conversation(?) in a more favourable direction. He has something against James, most likely how talented her boyfriend is at football. She decides to be direct, a quality of Aubrey that she greatly admires. "Have you been ignoring me for three weeks?"
His reply is smoother than she expected, "Nope."
"Right."
Back to square one. Awkward, confusing and from what's gathered- not compatible to be friends. Disappointing, considering she loves to talk and help and care. Nevertheless, if he was going to be moody about it, it's not her issue.
She draws a breath, standing to pick her bag and swing it over her back. "I'll see you in school," Elizabeth says over her shoulder. She walks off, not bothering to ask for his name.
His eyes remain focused on the ground. Meliodas silently(but loudly, violently, furiously)curses at himself. But this is better. Better than an attachment. The squeals of Elizabeth-who's located James-resound in his ears.
He inhales, calming the vexation(envy) whirling in his gut-it's ironic how sounds of joy in the distance can be equivalent to dull throbs for someone else. If Elizabeth, with all her memories, knows he's getting jealous over something this pointless, she'd surely turn in her grave.
Meliodas abruptly chokes on air, then swallows harshly to regain control, coughing for composure.
There is no proper grave.
"𝐇ow long have Elizabeth and James been dating?"
"Uh-nearly two years, literally the class couple."
"Oh."
Milo sharply scratches his answer out with his pen, grumbling because how hard is it supposed to be to solve one damn variable? "You figured this out already?"
Meliodas shuffles his book to Milo's peripheral vision, then snatches a chocolate bar from his jacket pocket to snack on while the teacher(somehow)doesn't notice.
"Dude." he gasps, staring wide-eyed at the maths book. "I thought you couldn't do maths."
He mutters something that Milo doesn't entirely catch.
"What did you say?"
"I know bits and bobs," Meliodas shrugged, chewing with his face propped onto his left palm. "Say, who liked who first?"
"Who liked what?" Milo responded, voice quieter as he vigorously copied down answers.
"Elizabeth and James. Who liked who first?"
His pen halts in mid-air. Milo racks his brain for an answer, divulging into his memory banks. The teacher heedlessly drones on, drowning his head with numbers and equations that are impossible to fathom.
"Can't remember. At some point, their feelings were painfully obvious. We all teased them about it." Brown hair tumbles onto his eyes, shadowing his vision, and he bitterly puffs on them. They lift but drop back. Meliodas hums, then plucks a Mars Bar from his pocket to nudge in Milo's direction.
"Is she happy?"
"Who?" He gratefully peels the sweet from its wrapper, not fretting with being subtle.
"I mean, Elizabeth and James. Are they happy?" Meliodas inclines into his chair, tilting on its back legs, hands stretching behind his blonde mane and interlocking at the back of the mess.
"Yeah? They seem pretty happy to me," he mumbles, relishing the heavenly flavour in his mouth. "Why you askin'?"
"No reason," he replies. "Isn't your crush that brunette?"
Milo all but choked.
"N-no," he stammered, throat dry. "I don't like Aubrey, I-we-"
Though he isn't facing Meliodas, the smirk is apparent. "There's a ton of pretty brunettes I could've thought of, but your mind immediately flashed to Aubrey."
"So? Aubrey's the brunette I'm closest to, doesn't mean I fancy her!" Milo turns to Meliodas with a huff, whose grassy eyes trained on him. "And you just admitted that you find brunettes pretty! Fess up, who's your crush?"
There's no variation in the shorter teen, no falter in his look, adding to Milo's ire.
The grin on his face arises, a chuckle shaking from his lips. "I'm not into brunettes-" The clang of Meliodas' chair contacting the ground startles him. "-and I have no crush."
"Believable."
"Not bothered whether you believe me or not." He shrugs, "But you're a horrendous liar."
Milo mutters under his breath, returns his gaze to the lecture and slumps in his seat, dropping his pen onto his exasperating maths book. He's fatigued in such a taxing lesson and suddenly has a strange but unsurprising crave for a pillow.
𝐀ubrey raps her knuckles on the desk in front, looming over it in what she's hoping appears as friendly. The head slowly, lazily even, looks up from his abandoned essay, and now she's assaulted by impassive green. "Yo."
"Meliodas." She responds, briskly checking the door for signs of a teacher and luckily receives no signal. "Actually, I've never heard of someone with that name..."
"Dick of a dad named me," he mutters with a lively(forced?) grin.
OK, then. Family issues. "Never said it was bad," she shrugs, noting doodles frolicking on the right of his margin. "How're you?"
"Good-"
"How're you finding the school?"
"Good-"
"Any crushes yet?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Sure that you're sure?"
"What is it with everyone and crushes?" He mumbles, tapping his biro against his chin, "there's no peace."
"Well, we need something to gossip about," She huffs jokily but quickly corrects herself at his raised brow. "Not that I'll tell anyone your crush. I'm super trustworthy."
Meliodas nods, rolling his eyes, "Everyone says that."
"I'm different."
His reply is smooth. "We're all different...or maybe we're all more similar than we'd like to admit." He muses, glancing down to his book, only to snort at his paragraph and scan the noisy classroom for the clock.
"What do you mean?" Aubrey questions. Philosophical guy, eh?
He faces her, propping his face onto his right elbow. "We all end up dying at the end, right? Life is supposed to lead to death."
"Supposed?"
Meliodas blinks, and Aubrey almost misses the hesitation before a cocky grin overcomes him, "Unless you believe in an afterlife of some sort, we just die."
She gulps, feeling as if she's missed something important, or it could be that eerie mask in his eyes-had they darkened for a second? A sudden itch inside orders her not to query him for the time being because, though she isn't one to read the room, Meliodas has a peculiar aura that strangely reminds her of a puzzle piece. In lieu, Aubrey nods and returns to her desk on the other side, remembering, once the teacher appears, that she was supposed to mention Rowan in a conversation.
"𝐉asmine," Elizabeth patiently says, leisurely walking up the school staircase to her chemistry classroom with her friend in tow, " they're legends. They're not real."
Jasmine scowls softly, not at Elizabeth, and her left hand stretches for the white-slightly scuffed-bannister as they reach a corner. "I know, I know. But they sound so amazing," she sighs in contentment, "wouldn't it be amazing if they were real?"
"There are so many variations. We wouldn't know which is the truth." She retaliates, setting foot on the second floor, now used to Jasmine's longing for fantasy and magic and...and...
"Why do you want them to be real?"
Her ponytail sways as she shrugs, hair gleaming like the sea at dusk, looking coffee-coloured because of the light seeping in from above. She tips her head up, catching more rays on her face, and Elizabeth observes how her eyes transform from intense brown to pools of warm honey. Jasmine's lips twitch, "I...I dunno," her voice is subtle as if revealing a secret side of herself. " I guess-well, as an example, Arthurian legends are such a mystery, what we know from stories and Google might be...untrue, but there must be more to it. And they're full of adventure and puzzles and-"
"Legends aren't real, though." Someone argues. Elizabeth recognises the tone. She tilts back, and, as she suspected, blondie is strolling towards them. Jasmine pauses in step too, turning to find who interrupted her, brows knitting together in annoyance. "You really think people like Robin Hood existed?" He advances to them effortlessly, hands behind his head, which also gazes at the window above, causing sunlight to ripple across his face too. His hair is golden, stubborn strands bouncing marginally with each step.
"Robin-" Jasmin huffs "-Robin could've been real, giving money to the poor sounds reasonable."
"A magical sword placed in stone by a lady who originates from a lake and only one man being able to haul it out is also reasonable?" He contemplates sarcastically, but not taunting, and he's promptly beyond the streaks of light, almost alongside the girls.
"Well," Elizabeth's in the middle of the two, now briskly walking and forced to listen to Jasmine's defensive remark, " legends are jumbled here and there, so I bet it's more complicated than what books and Google contain."
"More complicated?"
"If Excalibur was magical," Jasmine beams, possibilities buzzing inside like bees, then inhales deeply, "then there could've-must've- been other magic!"
"No evidence on Earth can prove that. Magic doesn't even exist." His hands lower and glide into trouser pockets. Elizabeth's unsure if he'd sidled closer to her. However, the sudden tingles on her left arm when they nearly brush together are briefly, yet certainly, there.
"I will find proof."
"Sure," he shrugs, a lilt to his voice, like he knew something they didn't, or maybe finding the whole exchange entertaining. "Elizabeth," she's startled out her trance, the second time he's mouthed her name and finds him facing her with curiosity, "do you think legends are real?"
She knows her answer; Jasmine knows her answer. It's on the tip of her tongue, but there's a weird itch because an odd sensation tells her that there are chances Excalibur was a tangible sword, that it had a purpose, that these legends weren't just-
"No." She says, "I don't."
Jasmine grumbles. Elizabeth knows she doesn't really mind and playfully shoves her shoulder. The blonde on her other side grins, eyes sparkling.
It seems tinged.