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There are blue skies above the rusted swing set. A few light clouds and puddles on the ground are the only remaining signs of the previous night’s storm. MC is idly swinging back and forth. His parents are sitting on the other end of the park, no doubt doing something boring like reading the news. Being an only child is both good and bad. He’s not sure which it is more, yet.
Some days he feels like swinging to the very top of the arc, and then jumping off. The landings are like he sees in action cartoons. It’s very heroic.
“Hello!” says the voice appearing from his left. There’s a girl attached to it, and MC struggles to think of a response. Where did she come from? She says, “Um, Hello? What’s your name?” The girl is the same height as MC. Her hair is… a colour. Not brown, but not pink either. It’s long enough to touch the swing’s seat, and held back from her eyes with a chipped, red clip.
He says, “Imari.” Oh. Well, it’s one of his names.
“Mari? That’s a girl’s name, ehehe.” Her laugh is like the windchimes MC’s grandfather whittles from pine wood. “Or are you a girl?” She shakes her swing’s chains, causing her to sway back and forth. “I’ve never had a tomboy friend before. That’s so cool.”
“I’m a boy.” A simple thing to say. Maybe the girl’s eyesight isn’t very good. Or, maybe he’s letting his own hair get too long again. His mother tells him it’s impolite to hide his eyes behind it. “Who are you?”
“Sayori!” She nods quickly. “It’s my mum’s name, too! We moved here just last week!” She must live in one of the many identical houses on the street. They were all built before MC was born, all at the same time. Sayori digs around in the pockets of her skirt. “Um, try this. You can keep the hair out of your face with it.”
MC is presented with a hair clip. It’s more aged than the one currently on Sayori’s head, looking more pink than red. He says, “Thanks.” He has to say this when given a gift, even if it’s one he never plans to use. That’s the polite thing to do.
The apartment is small. Small enough to be affordable on two twenty-something’s budgets. Small enough that the smells of anything being cooked quickly soak into everything. Sayori doesn’t cook often, so this balances it out. Mabel doesn’t mind doing this for her, given everything Sayori provides in exchange.
Mabel pushes the eggs around in the pan. They float on a layer of oil that’s probably not the healthiest. The sound of sizzling bacon is an effective alarm for the other resident of the house.
And indeed, there’s soon a pair of arms wrapping around her midsection. Sayori’s voice says, “May-boo… can I have some?”
“Only after it’s cooked.” The warmth from the stove is matched by the warmth from behind. “Can you set the table for us, Sunshine?”
“Ehehe… With pleasure.” Sayori’s footsteps tap out against the wooden floor as she trots around the kitchen. “Tomorrow, I’ll do the cooking.”
Tomorrow, Mabel will wake up first again, and have something prepared. She likes giving Sayori another thing to wake up for.
Sayori’s room is a common sight by this point. What’s less common is her hairstyle. MC struggles to define what he feels on seeing it. Something like a tree cut down.
She says, “It’s easier to wash this way, hehe. I was taking way too long to brush it every morning.” Sayori points at him. “You did the same?”
He sits down on the edge of her bed and sighs. “The teacher said I had to. It’s part of the uniform. At least I didn’t need to dye it.”
“Oh… Like that blonde girl in the other class? I thought that was her natural colour.” Sayori is dressed in a simple shirt with a cat’s head on it. The matching skirt looks good on her. Then again, she looks good in everything. It’s effortless. “The rest of the uniform is okay, though… The skirt is nice and long.”
She stands up and pulls open a set of painted blue drawers. Out of it she retrieves the middle school outfit. The top is the same as the one in MC’s room - a white button-up with the school emblem on the pocket. The bottom is different, of course. It’s a checkerboard, white-and-black skirt. She says, “I don’t have the jacket yet. Mum says it got lost in the mail.”
MC looks over the clothes. “Won’t you be cold in that?”
Sayori smiles. “Warmer than you, in the shorts. Oh, but we get shorts in the sports uniform.” She huffs. “I don’t get why we’re only allowed to wear them for sports. Walking around is a sport, too.”
MC doesn’t say, “At least you get to try out both.” He doesn’t say anything at all.
She notices anyway. Mind-reading is one of Sayori’s many talents. “Do you want to try them on?” She moves closer, holding up the outfit. “I’ve got enough of these for a whole week.” The skirt is dumped onto the bed, and she soon has a second set in her grip.
MC shakes his head. “No, that’s… It’s your uniform, not mine.”
“We’re the same size, ehehe.” Sayori’s voice is gentle. “I’ll leave for just a bit and put this on. You can do whatever you want.” And, she does exactly that, vanishing out the door of her bedroom.
He’s left alone with the pile of clothes on her bed. They still have the plastic bits holding their shape, fresh from the store.
They’re not his size, exactly. Sayori is a little taller. Because of this, the shirt hangs on him a little loosely. The skirt is adjustable, slightly. There’s a fold-over zip on the waistband.
The knock on the door almost makes him hit the ceiling. Thankfully, it’s followed by Sayori’s voice. “I’ve changed. Can I come in?”
MC says, “This is your room. You can do whatever you want.” He’d never try telling her what to do. Not that it would ever work, anyway.
Sayori slips in, quickly closing the door. The long skirt swishes around her legs as she moves around. Graceful is a word that will never describe her, but the fabric lends her a kind of flow anyway. She says, “Ah, you did put them on.”
In front of anyone else, MC would instantly perish from embarrassment. In front of Sayori, he can withstand it. He says, “Only because you told me to. Everyone is always telling me to do things.”
She says, “I think you look good.” He pretends that it doesn't make his heart jump. She points to the wardrobe mirror. “See? It fits you really well.”
There are two middle-school girls in the mirror. Both of them have short hair - maybe some kind of fashion trend. On the left is a taller, smiling girl. The red bow on her head contrasts with the monochrome outfit. The other girl is slouching, and the only red is the skin on her face.
But they are just in the mirror. Outside of it, MC just feels absurd. “I think shorts are better.”
Sayori puts her hands on her hips and turns in front of the mirror. “Maybe if it’s windy.”
The bed is cold, even with two people in it. The outside is colder. Sayori is asleep. Mabel is not.
Sayori is on the other side of their shared double bed, which might as well be thousands of kilometres away. It would be so simple to reach out, to press her body against her partner’s. She doesn’t. What if Sayori wouldn’t like it? What if Sayori woke up?
She had an irregular schedule, made possible by her job as a children’s book writer. That meant long hours when inspiration struck, and short days otherwise. Mabel would never forgive herself for disrupting this.
There’s a cold hand on her back. Sayori’s. Mabel ceases all movement. The hand drifts up and down her back, gently tracing over sore muscles. Then, a squeeze on her arm.
Mabel says, “You’re awake.” Her voice is so distant, like that of a tiny caged bird.
Sayori only hums in response. Her cheeks rub against the backs of Mabel’s shoulders. “You’re warm.” Her arms slither around onto spots on Mabel’s stomach. They fit in place better than any jigsaw puzzle.
When Mabel next opens her eyes, the sun has risen, and she can smell sizzling bacon.
The pink-haired girl says, “A boy in the club? Way to ruin the vibe.” Behind her looms a purple-haired girl who says nothing. Maybe she agrees. Maybe he’d be better off walking home right now.
Sayori says, “I promise MC is different. He’s a good friend.”
The girl (Natsuki?) crosses her arms. “Well, only because you said so.”
Another girl steps between them. Her name is no mystery - Monika. “This club was set up for the good of everyone. If he’s willing to love literature like we all do, then there won’t be any problems.”
Sayori nods. “Yep! MC pretends not to write, but I’ve seen his poems. He reads a lot as well!”
“Mostly manga…” MC tries to smile, while wondering how Sayori found out about the poetry. He wouldn’t call it poetry, though. That’s supposed to rhyme, right? “That’s literature, or close enough.”
Natsuki glances at him with sudden interest. “What kind of manga?” Action. Heroism. MC has a strong feeling she doesn’t read those.
The tall girl speaks for the first time since MC stepped into the clubroom. “I’d rather not recapitulate that discussion again.”
Monika says, “Yuri, I’m sure you can find common ground with him.” She smiles and gestures with her arms, but there’s an uncertain tone in her voice.
The black rectangle on the screen says, “Darling, the webcam shutter is closed.” There’s a clicking sound as pink and purple figures slide into view.
Natsuki says, “It’s not my fault it looks the same either way.”
Monika is also present on the screen in her own rectangle. It’s of a lower resolution, no doubt due to her being on the other side of the planet. She says, “You both look far more charming with the lights on.” Her webcam view seems set up for business meetings more than anything. Behind her is a shelf of books. Reading the spines was impossible, but Mabel knew that Sayori’s entire collection was part of it.
Natsuki says, “Just wait until you get back here! I’ll show you what charming is.”
Sayori leans against Mabel’s shoulder. “Ah, young love.” Under the desk, beyond the camera view, she places a hand on Mabel’s own. “You three have so much to learn…”
Yuri smiles. “Oh, I can imagine so. No doubt you would be willing to regale us with the finer details. The head start was significant.”
Monika is waiting for MC on the school roof, just as the text message said. Her hair is trailing behind her in the afternoon breeze. The rest of the club members were sent home early.
He says, “Too important for the group chat?”
She turns to face him, leaning against the mesh fence. It’s a solid barrier around the edge, the only reason why students were allowed up there at all. Monika says, “Very important. Like, the most important thing there could be.” Her hands are shaking a little - but maybe it’s just the wind. “Sayori. I’m in love with her.”
MC stares back. “And you’re telling me, instead of her?”
Monika smiles. “You know how hard that is. We’re in the same boat, after all.” She sighs. “Confessions are a bit more than just the words. Tip of the iceberg.” The school’s bell tower begins to ring, off in the distance.
“She’s out of my reach. I mean, she’s only into girls.” Monika is clearly colourblind, enough to look over the pins on Sayori’s bag. “Why bring me up here, then? Are you going to push me off?”
Monika turns away, and looks out over the school. “Never. I want Sayori to be happy. If that’s with me, great. If it’s with someone else then it’s good enough.” The chainlink fence creaks a little as she grips a section. “And… I do feel like you’re an option for her. I wouldn’t have… this knot in my heart otherwise.”
Sayori spins the pen around on her hand. “I just can’t get it flowing. The pieces are all in place but…”
Mabel is laying down with her head on her partner’s lap. Sayori’s face takes up all of her vision. “Maybe the characters need to be shuffled around?” Walking through these things tended to help.
“Ah… It’s not that. I’ve just spent the last month painting myself into corners.” She looks downcast. “The empty page has too many choices, and the half-full one doesn’t have enough. I’m just not cut out for this.”
The successful writer is not cut out for the work that leaves millions pleased. Unlikely. “Explain it to me.”
She sighs. “I just wanted everything to be simple, but I’ve ended up making it boring.”
“What was the feeling you were trying for? Sadness? Happiness? Excitement? Fear?” Mabel reaches up, and gently brushes her partner’s chin.
Sayori says, “Exciting would be a good start.”
“What if something unexpected happened?” Mabel says. “A betrayal, or a failure.”
She looks down at Mabel. “But I don’t want to have them fail.”
“Well… if you were doing this all over again, what would you change?”
“Nothing. That’s the frustrating part.” Sayori scribbles in the margins.
Mabel says, “Well, I wouldn’t change anything either. That’s why I know you’ll figure something out.”
They’re in Sayori’s room again, for the first time in a while. Somehow the common factor is the skirt Mabel is wearing. It’s more comfortable than she could have expected.
Sayori is sitting on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t expect you to want a sleepover.” There’s a tenseness on her face. She knows there is more to all of this. It’s not a shock - nobody is more perceptive than Sayor. It’s one of the many things Mabel loves about her.
“I thought this would be a better place to ask.” A better place than the school roof. A better place than out on the street. Somewhere nobody could see her fail, if that happened. “Do you have someone in mind for the graduation dance?”
“Oh. Um, not yet.” Sayori fidgets. “It’s nice of you to consider me for that. I’m sure you can find someone better.”
Mabel sits down next to her. The scale of the room is different from what she remembers. Everything is far smaller than what she saw in her mind’s eye. Most of all, Sayori. Years will pass and Mabel will still feel like the other girl should be taller. Mabel says, “That would be impossible. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.” The last step is the hardest here.
Sayori seems to struggle to think of a response. Her face is of someone attempting to turn down a donation.
It gives Mabel enough will to continue. “And, that’s why I love you.”
Sayori shakes her head. “No… I’ve tricked you. It’s not the real me you like. I’m just a bunch of costumes.”
“I love the girl in the costume.”
She says, “There’s nobody there to love.”
Mabel reaches into her breast pocket. “Then, who gave me this?” The hair clip is a lighter pink now, aged despite the lack of use.
Sayori gasps. “You kept that? But… I…” She winces. “I don’t deserve any of this.”
Mabel says, “You were the first to call me what I asked. And, the person that’s been at my side forever. If we can keep doing that, I’ll be happy. If not, I’ll be happy if you’re happy. That’s what matters to me.”
“I…” Sayori turns, and looks into Mabel’s eyes. “Will you be my Mari?”
Mabel leans towards her. “For as long as you’re my Sayori.”
Her lips are softer than any cloud.