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The first time Sharron sees Maric is when the new neighbors come to greet them. Sharron peeks from behind her parents’ legs to see a solemn, brown-haired boy about her age standing at his mother’s side. His father is apparently at work. Sharron’s mother encourages them to go play while the adults chat in the living room. Sharron beckons the boy to follow her in silent offering, and they both go upstairs to her room. They sit down on the spiderweb-patterned rug she had gotten for her seventh birthday, and stare at each other.
Maric speaks first. “I’m Maric. Nine years old.”
“Sharron. Nine years old too.” Silence reigns again after the greetings. Unlike the other kids Sharron had interacted with, however, Maric doesn't look uncomfortable, content to start looking around at her room.
“I can show you my books.” She attempts, remembering what Miss Reinette had told her about socialization. Her tutor seems to have the same distaste for general interaction Sharron does, but has learnt to manage it when she has to.
Maric looks back to her, slight interest in his gaze. “Okay.”
They spend the next hour pouring over the mystery novels and supernatural comics she had collected over the years. Her mother is a novel writer and a fan of the paranormal, and has gifted various books she particularly liked to Sharron. People tell her she looks like her father, but her tastes have always matched her mother’s.
It’s a good topic to bring up with the woman whenever she isn't shut up in her office and remembers to come out for food. Sharron’s glad she likes the quiet as much as her mother does; she wouldn't want to disturb the woman when writing.
Maric doesn't read much in general, and sometimes struggles with the more difficult words, but he's genuinely interested in the plot twists and darker topics, while other kids would have shied away in fear. Most of the time is spent reading a chosen book together, occasionally broken by questions or discussions.
By the time they come back down, hand-in-hand and quietly talking about the story, the adults have decided to have lunch together. Maric’s mother looks relieved and surprised at the sight of them, while Sharron’s parents look pleased.
—
Sharron carefully navigates her way through the lawn, heading for the oak tree Father told her had been planted before they bought this house. It’s grown large enough to shade half the backyard, but more importantly is a good meet-up spot. She carries a basket full of cookies and bottles of milk in one hand and a book in the other.
She sits down at the tree trunk, carefully arranging her dress of the day; black lace and frills with a shawl to fend off the approaching chill of autumn. She cracks open her book, settling in to read. She finishes a few chapters before the creak of a door sounds from over the side of the fence, and not longer after a brown-haired head pokes up from behind the fence.
“Hey.” Maric greets, heaving himself over the fence and holding a book of his own, trotting over to her side. There’s a bruise on his cheek today, already black and blue, and Sharron tries not to let her gaze linger. “What are you reading?”
She lifts her book to show him the cover. “The Aldora series.”
Maric perks up, offering his own book up for inspection. “I’m finishing the third volume today.”
Sharron hums, picking up her basket and placing it between them as Maric sits down on the grass too. The boy’s eyes light up despite the rest of his expression remaining unchanging when they unpack the snacks.
“We’ll be starting high school next month.” Maric says idly, a rare moment of conversation. They don't often talk much during their backyard meet-ups, choosing to read in silence or cloudgaze while eating. “What do you think?”
Sharron knows her classmates had found it odd for a pair of childhood friends to be so quiet with each other, but she likes it that way. Neither of them are inclined to talking, and with her having attended a girls’ academy while he went to a public co-ed school, their daily lives rarely intersected once they were too old to spend most of the day outside.
“I think it would be nice.” She says slowly. Maric nods in acknowledgement, and the short exchange stops entirely when they each open their books.
They read until Sharron’s father calls for her, sun starting to set. Maric helps her pack up the remains of their afternoon snack, standing up. Sharron meets his gaze. “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll try.” Never a promise, but it’s all she can take and all he can give. Sharron’s hands grip her basket tightly, itching to reach out to do- something to comfort Maric somehow.
Maric’s gaze flicks down to her hands, then back up. He cracks a smile, rough around the edges and not quite reaching his eyes. “It’ll be fine.”
He waits for her to nod before turning away, clambering up the fence and disappearing over the side. Sharron stands there for a long moment, before hurrying back into the house.
—
“Do you have everything?” Sharron’s mother fusses over her, a mug of coffee in her hands and a quilt around her shoulders. Sharron is quietly pleased that the woman found time to see her off, but she really does need to leave. “I can drive you.”
“It’s fine, Mother.” Sharron reassures, picking up her bag. “Maric is walking with me.”
“He's such a nice boy, isn't he? I’m so glad his mother finally divorced that husband of hers.” Her mother relaxes slightly, looking a little cheered at the thought. “Alright, I won't keep you. Have a nice first day!”
Sharron nods in farewell, lips turned upwards at the corners as she steps out of the house. Her gaze finds Maric, leaning against the brick fence of her home and watching the sky. The gate creaks slightly when she swings it open, and the boy turns to face her.
“Good morning.” She says softly, stepping forward. Maric murmurs a greeting back, straightening to fall in step with her.
They walk to the train station in silence, later finding empty seats in the train opposite each other and staring out the windows instead. There are a few students in the same uniform as them in the train carriage, chattering away eagerly. Sharron watches the city flit pass her in a blur, and wonders if she could make any new friends in school.
—
Their new class is noisy.
The first thing that greets them when Sharron slides open the classroom door is a black-haired and red-eyed boy shrieking something about… pedigree? His noble house? Another boy with longer black hair and green eyes laughs, which just incenses the other boy further. She doesn't think he’s actually saying words at this point.
Maric leans over her to grab the class door and quietly slide it shut again, muffling the one-sided argument. Sharron checks the classroom placard hanging above them without missing a beat; 1-E, it is the right class, unfortunately. They stand around for a moment longer, deliberating their next course of action, when someone clears their throat behind them. They turn around in unison to face the stranger.
A nondescript black-haired boy with brown eyes blinks back at them, a bit of apprehension in his eyes as he grips his bag strap. “Um, hello. Are you going in?”
It takes a moment before Maric speaks: “It’s a bit noisy in there right now. I’m Maric. Are you in the same class?”
“Yes!” The boy seems to relax, expression turning earnest. “Nice to meet you, I’m Klein.”
“Sharron.” Is all she has to offer, but Klein doesn't seem to mind, peering curiously past them at the little window on the door.
Maric turns around to slide open the door, the shouting boy now stewing in his seat while the green-eyed boy perks up at the sight of the newcomers.
“Klein!” The boy bounds up to them, reminding Sharron of an excited dog. His hair is a little messy, but not purposefully so, and he looked like someone her former classmates would gush over.
“Leonard.” Klein looks fond, if a little exasperated. Leonard beams, stars in his eyes, before noticing them.
“Oh, hello! I’m Leonard!” He turns a dazzling smile on them, and Maric blinks rapidly at the sudden onslaught. Sharron meets the gaze as best as she can, shuffling slightly backwards.
They make a second round of introductions, and Leonard tugs Klein into the classroom without preamble, gesturing for them to follow too. It’s clear that the two boys know each other well, but Leonard chatters with them without a care, and Klein makes an effort to bring them into the loop.
Sharron and Maric settle into the two seats behind Leonard and Klein, the former having saved a seat for the latter. Leonard sits on his chair backwards, still cheerfully telling them a story about taking a tumble down the stairs once, while Klein turns his chair around. It's a little overwhelming, to be honest, but Sharron nods when appropriate, elbows on the desk and hands propping her chin up so she can listen attentively. Klein eventually cuts into Leonard’s babble to lure more than two words out of Maric, and anything at all out of Sharron.
It’s a startling good start at making friends, even if she still hasn't said much. Leonard talks enough for all of them, and Klein is thoughtful in keeping them connected to the conversation. And when the day ends, they say goodbye at the school gate, and Sharron and Maric walk to the station together.
It’s as novel an experience as going to school was, walking side-by-side back home like this. Maric taps her shoulder and gestures for them to head into a nearby convenience store, where they buy meat buns and drinks to snack on.
Sharron sits down carefully on the railing outside the store with both buns in hand while Maric cracks open her green tea can, and they switch food for drink. He hops on himself, feet propped up on the middle rung of the railing, cracking open his own can of soda with a loud pop and taking a large bite of his bun. By the time Sharron’s eaten half of her bread, revealing savory brown meat, Maric is shoving the last of his bun into his mouth.
“Eat slowly.” He tells her before she can rush, brushing crumbs off his pants and finishing his soda. Condensation drips off her own can to soak her skirt, and a breeze sweeps through the empty parking lot, the sun still high in the sky above them. They’ll probably be home in time to catch the murder mystery series streaming in the evening.
Sharron smiles slightly. It’s a nice day.
—
Emlyn White is an interesting individual. He’s a little too proud of his bloodline, as he likes to call it; something about his family line being traceable to famous legends. Klein dubs him a chunni with a blank face, and neither Sharron nor Maric can refute the statement.
Still, Emlyn is a decent groupmate to work with, doing his part and contributing his fair share of ideas. He’s particularly good at design, and boasts about his hobby of making detailed dolls when lightly probed. He then comments that Sharron reminds him of one, which is when Maric, who had been blank-faced like her the whole time, started glaring daggers at the black-haired boy.
Emlyn does not say another word for the rest of the class period.
Sharron doesn't think the comment was made out of any targeted malice, but it still hit too close to the various comments from when they were young about how creepy the two of them were. Too quiet and stoic to fit in, so they ended up alone together more often than not. Sharron hadn’t minded it back then. but Maric had never liked the treatment, especially when the other children talked about his father. They hadn't gone to the same elementary school, but both their classmates had been less than kind. Children outgrew that phase eventually though, and they stopped almost entirely once they entered middle school.
When class ends for lunch and Emlyn awkwardly leaves with an apology, taking his chair with him, Maric unfurls his fists to rest them on the desk instead, a silent admittance of his tension. Sharron doesn't point it out, instead taking out her lunchbox from her bag. Today is rice and salmon with assorted pickled vegetables. Maric stands up just as she starts eating, murmuring about buying food from the canteen.
Sharron takes slow, careful bites, listening to the buzz of the classroom. Klein gets a few people to push their desks together for lunch, with a couple others from another class poking in. A blonde-haired girl- Audrey? Sharron knows she’s rather popular amongst their grade for her good looks and kind demeanor. As it is, she’s sharing her cookies with Fors, who’s bemoaning something about a draft, while short(-haired) Xio half-heartedly comforts her.
Cattleya works with a wavy-haired boy (his dark hair is an interesting shade of almost blue) to tutor a very confused-looking and very tall blonde boy. Not for the first time, Sharron wonders how Klein managed to collect people from different classes entirely. The boy has been gaining a few rumors from being seen talking to various seniors amicably (or not).
She’s catching something about a ‘Tarot Club’ when Maric returns with food and drinks in hand. He sets a packet of strawberry milk on her desk, sitting down to unwrap his bread. Another one of those unspoken things that make her relax entirely, taking the drink gratefully.
Maric catches her eye, tilting his head in the direction of the strange mix of kids on the other side of the classroom. Sharron shrugs, as clueless as he is. It makes sense somehow, though. Klein has a natural affinity for talking to people and then bringing them altogether despite their differences. It’s not their business to pry, however, and they spend the rest of their break in relative peace.
—
Mr. Azik calls on Maric to help him deliver workbooks to the staffroom at the end of the day, so Sharron waits in the quickly emptying classroom for him to return. She packs up all her things, then moves to do the same for Maric’s bag. When she’s done, she folds her arms on her desk, resting her head on them, eyes sliding shut.
There’s a chill in the air today; the forecast had predicted a light rain set to last until evening, despite summer fast approaching. Teachers are already giving out piles of homework in preparation, and Klein has organized a study group at the nearby public library for the class to work together on it during summer break.
The door slides open in the midst of her wandering thoughts, but she’s too sleepy to check if it’s Maric. The muted thump of the newcomer’s steps approach her desk, the creak of Maric’s chair loud in the silence as they sit down.
“Sharron.” Maric’s voice is low and quiet, and she almost twitches when a hand rests gently on her shoulder. “It’s time to go.”
She shifts then, turning her head on her arms to peek at him over the crook of her elbow. Maric looks back down at her, arm on his desk and propping his chin up. His eyes look strangely soft, shaded by his hair. He reaches out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, and looks away to his empty desk.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He reaches down to grab his bag from the floor. “Thanks.”
Sharron hums, slowly rising from her seat and picking up her own bag. The places where his fingers brushed her cheek and ear feel strangely warm against the cool air as they leave the classroom together. She wonders why.
(Her blonde hair flutters slightly in the breeze, drifting down her face. Maric reaches out to sweep it back for her automatically, even though he’s taken care not to touch her these days. Her cheek is soft under his rough fingers.)
—
Autumn starts in the change of colors for the oak tree, orange leaves littering the lawn. People start wearing extra shirts and bringing jackets to school, holding out until the switch to winter uniforms. Now though, the school is abuzz with the upcoming festival. While brainstorming, Sharron contributes ‘Haunted House’ to the list of ideas. She would make a good ghost. Maybe Maric could be a vampire. Klein, their class president, strides off to the school festival committee meeting determinedly with Audrey (also on the committee) by his side, ready to fight for the right to the spooky theme.
The next day comes with good news; class 1-E will be doing a haunted house. The classroom bursts into chatter, excitedly discussing what roles they should pick. Fors sleepily asks to be a corpse while facedown on her desk, already half-dead. Leonard loudly declares himself as vampire, and Emlyn follows suit. Maric raises his hand for zombie volunteers, but when it comes to her, Audrey hurries over.
“Sharron, correct me if I’m wrong, but did I see you at a cafe last week in this gorgeous black lace dress?” Audrey asks, sitting down gracefully next to her. Sharron scans her mind for a moment, then connects the timing to when she went out for afternoon tea with some former classmates.
“Yes, I did. Why do you ask?”
“Well, since we’re doing a scary theme, I was thinking that maybe we could incorporate something like cursed dolls into the theme! With that dress, some make-up and a veil, the look would be perfect for the haunted house!” Audrey’s green eyes sparkle, hands clasped before her. “Only if you're comfortable, of course!”
Sharron considers it carefully, picturing the final image in her mind, before nodding hesitantly. It’s a good opportunity to get more involved in the festives, after all. Audrey is absolutely delighted, quickly hugging her before running back to the whiteboard to scribble it down. Klein shoots her a thumbs-up, and then the discussion shifts to splitting up the class for preparations.
Maric nudges her shoulder gently, giving her a questioning look. ‘Are you sure?’
Sharron looks back. ‘Yes.’
Maric makes a noise of acknowledgement, and they turn their focus back to the class, who are now arguing over the design of their advertisement, for some reason. Emlyn is winning by virtue of his artistic talent, and Fors is being cajoled into writing a short backstory for their haunted house.
It’s a blur of work from them on; they make simple walls out of sturdy leftover wood and buy dark fabric made ragged to drape over them. They’ll be set up to form a short route that zigzags through the classroom and leads their visitors into an open space where Cattleya and Klein will have a fortune-telling tent at the exit.
Sharron’s not sure where the last part came from, but Klein seems rather invested in the concept, which means everyone is working hard to bring it to life too. Sharron’s helping with the design crew to make costumes, since hers is just one of her own outfits. Maric is helping with the manual labor and running errands, buying materials and occasionally drinks with others. They're too busy to interact with each other most of the time, and now their commutes are filled with talk over their festival work. It’s oddly refreshing, always having to keep her hands busy and mind focused on her task, no time to let her thoughts stray. She looks forward to the final piece.
The class gathers round again at the tailend of their preparations, passing around drinks as they work out their schedule for the festival itself, ensuring everyone has equal shifts. Sharron and Maric get the same breaks under a sudden unanimous decision and more than a few giggles paired with knowing looks. She stares at her classmates blankly, turning to Maric for clarity, but he resolutely ignores her gaze for some reason.
It’s fine, if a little odd. It means they can explore the festival together. She’s happy with that.
—
The festival dawns on a sunny morning. The whole school is abuzz as visitors flock from classroom to classroom, trying out food stalls and games.
Sharron changes into her dress; long sleeves that fan out at the ends with see-through fabric, two columns of buttons running down her top and a flared skirt going below her knees. The neckline runs half-way up her neck, black lace soft against her skin and a silver cross necklace decorating it. A simple headdress with a black veil shrouds her face; black lipstick paints her lips. She tugs on a pair of stockings, the pattern asymmetric, and slips on black kitten heels.
She steps out from the makeshift changing room to much fanfare, Audrey the first to gush over how wonderful she looks. Emlyn takes a dozen photos of her as reference material, and Sharron resists the urge to fidget under her classmates’ praise. She’s ushered to sit down, and Maric wanders over once he’s free of last-minute preparations. He has yet to put on the zombie make-up, but he’s already dressed in brown slacks, a white button-up and a vest. They had gone for a sort of Victorian image in addition to the horror theme.
“Comfortable?” Maric sits down slowly, careful not to crease his pants, but still looking at her.
“It’s nice.” She admits, smoothing out her skirt and clicking her heels against the floor.
“That’s good.” Maric opens and closes his mouth, like he’s chewing on his next words. “...You look really nice.”
Sharron feels heat bloom in her cheeks, her poker face finally falling beneath the obscurity of her veil. She swallows, parting her lips as she tries to find an adequate answer.
“Thank you.” A pause. “You look good too.”
Maric laughs then, one of the rare ones that make his eyes close before he raises his hand to hide his smile. Sharron feels a twinge of disappointment as he covers it, and hurriedly rummages through her bag before she can dwell on it.
She pulls out a blue ribbon and offers it to Maric. “Like in the story Fors wrote.”
Fors had ended up writing a surprisingly detailed setting for their haunted house, which revolved around Sharron and Maric for some reason. Sharron the vengeful spirit of a young lady, and Maric her trusted servant, following his mistress dutifully even in death. The rest of the class are various other inhabitants, or guests invited by ‘Sharron’ for a party at her mansion that later burned down.
Fors’ writing is captivating, and she’s quite good at short stories. Sharron’s already made a note to ask if she often reads the mystery and supernatural genre. In the story, however, the lady is mentioned giving her servant a blue ribbon to wear as a sign of his loyalty. Maric seems to remember too, eyes suddenly darting away before going back to her, gaze suddenly determined.
He shuffles closer, leaning towards her in silent request. Sharron realizes after a moment, and she loops the ribbon around his collar, neatly tying it in a loose bow. Maric lifts it carefully, admiring it before smiling at her again, a quick blink-and-you-miss-it movement.
Sharron doesn't have time to examine the strange skip her heart does at the action, because it’s time for them to work.
—
Sharron and Maric keep their outfits on when they get on break, but wipe off their make-up before they roam the festival. Maric tries his hand at some luck-based games, losing terribly in a bout of misfortune, and Sharron consoles him by guiding them to some target games.
They win some candy and start buying food instead, sharing fried noodles and hot takoyaki. Acquaintances and strangers call out to them as they pass, usually to compliment Sharron’s outfit. Maric has a sign promoting their class hanging off his shoulder, shoved on him by Cattleya. It’s a good marketing move, considering the attention they're attracting now.
Maric keeps her close as they navigate the crowd of students and visitors, occasionally putting an arm around her shoulder to guide her around a corner. He retracts his touch immediately each time, sometimes with an apology for the sudden touch. Sharron catches sight of a couple holding hands while walking down the hallway, and hesitantly grabs Maric’s hand the next time it retreats from her.
The boy freezes, almost stumbling in the middle of the busy hallway when Sharron brings their joined hands back down. He gapes at her for a moment before his jaw snaps shut, still looking at her with poorly concealed surprise. Sharron looks away deliberately, taking a bite of her meat skewer, looking calmer than she feels. Eventually Maric relaxes, and they explore the rest of the festival like that.
—
They don't talk about the hand-holding. Sharron’s not sure where they would start with it either. It exists though, a transparent sheet over their dynamic. They get through the festival like that, holding hands each time they roam the school, and letting go once back at their classroom.
Their classmates shoot them knowing looks; she’s not sure when the information managed to circulate all the way back then. They've been hearing a few comments on the hand-holding from their grade, though none unkind, so there's that.
The last day comes all too soon, and all the classes pack up their hard work, changing back to school uniforms. The festival is set to end with a bang, the school having gotten permission to set off fireworks tonight. Sharron and Maric help clean up, taking down the wooden walls and folding the black drapes. Their remaining classmates head out to throw the trash, leaving Maric and Sharron to rearrange the desks and chairs.
They do so quietly, the classroom lit in orange by the slowly setting sun, and the shouts of students below in the square float up to them through the open windows. Sharron combs a hand through her hair after pushing in the last chair, and Maric sets down the last desk.
The boy glances at the darkening sky and then the clock, his frame dimly lit by the bright lights from the school square and fading sunlight. “Let’s stay here to watch the fireworks.”
Sharron agrees with a nod, and they move towards one of the windows to peer down at the students outside. The concert stage is lit up in a rainbow of colors, a band playing to roars of approval from their audience. Sharron squints and thinks she sees Klein surrounded by the rest of their class before they disappear into the crowd.
Maric sits down on a nearby desk, one ankle resting on his knee, and Sharron does the same next to him. Speakers flare to life all over the school as the broadcast club announces the impending fireworks. Maric reaches out to grasp her hand. It still makes her heart flutter a bit despite the past couple days, and she laces their fingers together.
They used to do this all the time when they were little, Maric ringing her doorbell so they could run off to the park, the local library, the market, anywhere they could go. Hand in hand, so they wouldn't get separated, clutching the straps of their little bags. Maric, running from a dark and too loud house, and Sharron leaving a warm but sometimes too quiet home. It was always fine when they were together, curled up under a tree or skipping stones at a river.
Maric’s hand tightens on hers, and he turns to look at her. His gaze is soft. It’s always been that way for her. She wonders if she looks at him the same way.
“Will you go out with me?” The words are whisper soft, but Sharron hears them all the same.
“Yes.” Her reply is quiet too, but Maric smiles at her, relief and delight, and Sharron smiles at him until her cheeks ache, warmth bubbling up from her chest to dust her face pink.
Someone starts a countdown down on the stage, rousing the school to chant along at the top of their lungs. Maric leans towards her, free hand cupping her face and tilting it to him. Sharron goes with the movement, gazing up at him, words stuck in her throat but reaching him anyway.
The world explodes in color and sound just as Maric kisses her. A gentle press of lips against hers, and when he releases her she moves closer so that she can lean against his shoulder. His hand is warm in hers. The fireworks fade away in the evening sky to the endless cheers of the school.
It’s a beautiful night.