Work Text:
Coco groaned in annoyance, an unusual sound for her. The blonde sat at her desk, carefully attempting to salvage her cassette copy of In the Court of the Crimson King. It was one of her favourite albums, possibly the favourite and now, it lay before her as a crinkled mess of tape, fragile but not beyond repair.
With steady hands, she worked at the knots, untangling the delicate ribbon inch by inch. After six painstaking minutes the tape was back in playing order. Grabbing a pen from her pencil cup, she slowly turned the cassette's hub, rewinding the past back into its rightful place. Her trademark smile returned as she inserted the cassette into her Walkman. Headphones on, she eagerly pressed play ready to hear Greg Lake’s iconic megaphone-tinged vocals once more.
Instead, she was met with the same garbled sound from ten minutes earlier. She couldn’t fully describe it, but she knew exactly what it meant.
Opening the Walkman’s hatch, she winced at the sight of tape spilling out like tangled ribbons, worse than before. That Image made Coco’s heart sank. This time, her groan was louder, echoing through the room as her fist instinctively rose to hit the table. Instead, she gently tapped it, her frustration melting into sadness. With a sigh, she moved the ruined cassette with the player to the side of the desk. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for something else to occupy her mind. Her drum set caught her attention first, but she quickly dismissed the idea. It was only 8 a.m., and she didn’t want to wake the whole house or the neighbourhood for that matter. Maybe there were chores she could do instead.
Sliding her yellow bunny slippers out from under the table, she slipped them on and padded toward the creaky staircase. In the kitchen, her adoptive mother was sitting at the table, enjoying a cup of coffee. “Oh... hi, Coco. How are you doing?” the woman asked, taking a sip of her drink before Coco could answer.
“I’m doing quite alright, thanks for asking! Do you need any help with the washing up?” Coco replied, remembering there’d been extra dishes after Maya joined them for dinner today.
“Thanks, dear, but I already finished it,” her mother said warmly, taking another sip. “How was school?”
It was the typical parent question, but Coco never minded. She usually enjoyed school, and sharing that with someone else was something she couldn't resist. “Oh, it was pretty fun! Some classes got cancelled because the teachers were sick, but overall, it was a nice day,” she said cheerfully. “Glad to hear that. Any homework today?” her mother asked, finishing the last drop of her coffee.
“Yes, but all done,” Coco wanted to reply, until she suddenly remembered her unfinished English assignment. “If you’ll excuse me, Mom, I think I still have something to do. See you later,” she said hastily, turning to leave.
Her mother called after her with one last question. “Before you go, do you know who ate the stroopwafels I bought for Mymy? You know how moody she gets without them for breakfast.”
Coco paused, wracking her brain, but she had no answer. There was a unspoken rule in the Household, no one was allowed to eat nor touch stroopwafels before Mymy did. She turned back, shaking her head apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t know,” she said before heading back upstairs.
Hastily climbing the stairs back to her room, Coco cast a glance at her bag. Inside, it held the dreaded worksheet she needed to finish by tomorrow. She wasn’t the worst in English, far from it. She was fluent in speaking and understanding it, but when it came to grammar and writing, her struggles became painfully clear. She thought about asking for help, but her options were limited.
Her mom was off the table, still cooling down from a long day at work. Mymy wasn’t an option either. The last time the ginger-haired girl helped, Coco had ended up in the principal’s office. Somehow, Mymy had convinced her that certain racial slurs were acceptable in English, which had been a huge disaster for her grade.
Another name popped into Coco’s head: Maya. But that thought gave her pause. Was Maya still mad at her for the history presentation fiasco? Or the dumb death threat Coco had made? The longer she thought about it, though, the more it seemed Maya was her only real choice. The idea made her nervous. Coco had always secretly feared that Maya hated her deep down and that thought saddened her. Despite being two months older than Coco, Maya felt like a younger sister to her, someone Coco wanted to protect and care for.
She always tried to show Maya extra attention in small ways. Like buying extra Kruidnoten when she went shopping with their mom or sharing her school lunch when Maya forgot hers. Sometimes, though, Coco had to remind herself not to overdo it. Maya often rejected her help, and the blonde learned to tread carefully. A memory came to mind, one that still stung. About a year ago, Maya had started getting night terrors. Coco could hear everything from her own room, the creaky bed as Maya tossed and turned, the shaky breaths of someone trapped in a nightmare. At first, Coco hoped it was a one-time occurrence, but after the tenth consecutive night, her worry grew too strong to ignore, her Sister Senses kicked in. Summoning her courage, she went to Maya’s room to check on her.
She hadn’t expected the reaction she got. Maya, red-faced and screaming, had begged Coco to leave.
The memory still lingered in Coco’s mind. Maybe the nightmare had been particularly intense. She sympathized with Maya; Coco herself had experienced nightmares so vivid they made her cry. In those moments, having someone there to comfort her had made all the difference.
But Maya was different. That much Coco had come to accept.
Coco sighed, bracing herself as she gathered her things. With the worksheet and pencil in hand, she made her way to Maya's door.
Upon arriving, she noticed that the police tape once haphazardly stuck to the door—meant to keep someone or something out—was gone. Coco had never figured out who or what it was supposed to deter. Her hand hovered over the doorknob, ready to open it, when she remembered a request from the dark-haired girl a few weeks ago.
"Coco… could you… maybe… please knock next time?"
With a quick nod to herself, Coco gently knocked on the red wood. The knock was quickly followed by a loud thud, frantic mouse-clicking, and faint, shuffling footsteps.
Maya, still caught up in her gaming session, hesitated as she approached the door. Her train of thought was soon interrupted by a burst of yellow energy greeting her with a cheerful, “Hi, Maya.”
“Oh, hey... cough... uh, hi, Coco. What’s up?” Maya asked, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor to avoid Coco’s gaze.
“I’ve got some English homework to finish,” Coco explained, holding up the worksheet, “and I thought maybe you could help me? Please? After all, you got an eight on the last test, right? That’s super impressive, good job on that!”
Maya’s cheeks flushed at the unexpected praise. Coco remembered her grade? And even complimented her?
“Thanks... Coco,” she mumbled. But as the weight of Coco’s request hit her, Maya grew hesitant. “Uh... listen, I’ve got stuff to do. Can’t you ask Mymy or someone else to help?”
Maya’s thoughts spiralled.
Why is she asking me? One of the top students in the class? Doesn’t she have plenty of friends who can help her? What if this is some kind of trick—maybe she wants to spy on my room? Or worse maybe she’s trying to break in again and catch me mast-
“Please, Maya,” Coco interrupted her spiral, “you know how Mymy is. She’s... let’s call it ‘creative,’ but not the most reliable help with school stuff. I’m sorry if I interrupted you. Anyways, good night, sis.” Coco turned, ready to retreat back to her room in defeat.
“Wait.”
Maya’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, but it stopped Coco in her tracks. Turning back, she saw the door wide open.
“If it’s just that worksheet,” Maya said, shifting nervously, “then I guess it’s no problem.”
Coco’s face lit up with a beaming smile as she stepped inside. Looking around, she noticed that Maya’s room hadn’t changed at all since the last time she was here.
“If you want... we can work on my bed,” Maya offered awkwardly, motioning to the lack of chairs in her room.
Coco nodded, her enthusiasm bubbling over. Both girls settled on the bed, the worksheet laid out between them, ready to tackle English together. Maya cringed slightly at the thought. Something about this whole situation still felt fishy. Her mind whispered doubts, reminding her to stay on guard. But a smaller, quieter voice, the kind she rarely paid attention to, nudged her with a different idea: maybe Coco genuinely needed her help. For reasons she couldn’t quite understand, Maya chose to believe that voice.
“Alright… with what exactly do you need help with?” she asked, though she couldn’t even recall having any English homework herself.
“These two,” Coco replied, pointing to a grammar exercise and a short writing task.
On paper (pun definitely intended), it seemed simple enough. But for Coco, tackling these exercises felt like trying to drum with only one stick, utterly impossible.
“Well,” Maya began, gathering her thoughts, “start of by analysing the sentence, usually it gives away what...ehm...tense it should be..”
As Coco worked through each sentence, Maya found herself getting the hang of explaining things step by step. With every bit of guidance, Coco seemed to improve, and Maya started to feel a spark of confidence in her role as a teacher. The blonde, meanwhile, beamed at the realization that she was not only learning but also finally getting some much-needed quality sister time with Maya.
“No Coco, you can’t use double negatives in English.”
Well, every start is shaky, right?