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“Please get together in groups of two and-”
I was blocking out the rest of her words. I didn’t need to hear more to know how the rest of the lesson would go. There were 17 of us after all. And, unless someone planned on cutting themselves in half, 17 wasn’t made to be divided in groups of two. Which meant that, just like every lesson of every subject of forever: I wouldn’t be picked. Which was fine by me, really. I’d gotten used to it after all. It was just … how things were. I worked fine on my own. Wasn’t salty. Wasn’t hurt. … Not anymore that was. You got used to it after a while. And besides, it wasn’t like things were all bad. Like, if I finished quickly, I wouldn’t be forced into a drowning storm of awkward silence where my partner pretended and failed to be polite and sociable as we waited for the teacher to continue teaching. And, as another bonus, the fictive cherry on this fictive cake so to speak: I got free time to doodle in my notebook without catching the mean eye of our teacher. And that made being singled out and ignored all but worth it.
Or, that’s at least how things had been going up until now. Because it was after the lesson had already started and we - as in the rest, I was already finished - were heads deep in the assigned group work, that the classroom door opened and a girl I’d never seen before walked in, her presence lighting the room in a way the fluorescent bulbs never could. Her hair—soft orange with pink highlights like a streak of sunset—framed her face in twin buns that looked like hearts. She carried herself with a kind of effortless grace, as though she belonged anywhere she chose to be. I couldn’t stop staring, my mind racing to capture her image, to imprint it onto the pages of my notebook. She almost reminded me of an OC I’d once drawn. Almost, because looking at her now, I felt my OC from months ago was lacking. My fingers itched with the urge to draw, but our teacher had started speaking again and if she caught me sketching as she spoke once more, she might actually go through with her threats of taking away my pencils.
“Ah, the principal mentioned you’d be arriving today. Class, please meet your new classmate: Mei Kawa.”
I barely heard the teacher’s words. It wasn’t her voice that broke the silence, but my own: “Hi Mei.”
The words escaped before I could catch them, loud and bright in the thick quiet of the room.
The laughter came next. Stifled chuckles, exchanged glances, the sound of embarrassment wrapping itself around me like a heavy coat. My face burned, but before the weight of shame could fully settle, Mei’s voice cut through.
“Hi,” she said, her gaze locking with mine, “Nice to meet you all.”
I knew she wasn’t talking to me directly. Logically I knew. But… the way her smile wasn’t just polite— was a sly curve, as if we were sharing a joke no one else in the room could understand, it… made me feel things. Things I couldn’t really put a name on, but… they were certainly not the usual feelings of embarrassment, fear or shame that others had made me experience for most of my life. No... They felt gentler, almost nice. And a part of me wanted to feel them again.
“Why don’t you take a seat next to Kaori?” the teacher said, snapping me back to the moment.
Mei made her way toward me, her steps unhurried, her smile lingering like the aftertaste of something sweet. My heart, the traitor, decided this was the perfect moment to hammer against my ribs. Stupid thing. Of course she was going to sit next to me—it was the only open seat. But still, the way she looked at me... It made me hope for things I had no business hoping for.
I felt myself tense as Mei pulled out the chair next to me, as she sat down and took out her notebooks. And by god was I still tense as the teacher gave us permission to continue our work. I’d never had someone sit next to me before. Or, at least, it had been so long that I forgot. I think the last time had been during that first week of primary school. The second week she’d asked to be allowed to sit somewhere else. I don’t think she’d meant for me to overhear, but I still remembered how she’d complained that I smelled of cactus. That had stung - pun intended - because she’d never shown any signs of being bothered. Had never said anything bad as I told her about all the different cacti my mom was growing in our green house. And, for one week, for one silly week, I’d allowed myself to hope that perhaps and maybe, just maybe, I might have made my first ever friend. If I had paid more attention I might have realised that her interest had just been fake. And that her smile had been meant to hide her annoyance. Yes maybe… or maybe I would have still not realized anything at all. For hopefulness and naivete were twins, and I’d never been able to distinguish the two.
The rest of the lesson felt like it simultaneously dragged on and flew by way too fast. I hadn’t exchanged a single word with Mei, even though I had felt her stare at me for a while. But she hadn’t said anything either, so maybe she hadn’t wanted to talk to me to begin with. Maybe I’d managed to ruin the way she saw me forever already. Not that I should be surprised. People who look like her rarely spend time with people like me. It was just that… No, nonsense. I was reading into things. Clearly I should stop applying wishful thinking when I interacted - or rather, didn’t interact - with people. Still, it had almost seemed like, just for a moment there that…
The bell rang and I closed my notebook. I heard our teacher say something about assignments and the stuff we were supposed to read till next time, but I had already stopped paying attention, too busy deciding which pencils I’d be taking with me into the yard. The last time I’d brought the whole pencil case someone had taken it and thrown it into the toilet. And I didn’t really feel like repeating that experience. So, once our teacher was done, I took my notebook, my pencils of choice and left. If I was fast I’d be the first to arrive at my regular spot near the trash cans. If I wasn’t I’d have to fight - and lose - against some boys from an upper class who went there to smoke. And if that happened I’d have to hide in a toilet stall again. Those were never comfortable and way too loud, since so many girls meet there to gossip and talk about boys. Which was annoying and of itself, but especially bad when they talked about sex stuff. It made me uncomfortable in ways I didn’t have the words for.
Lucky for me, today wouldn’t be one of those toilet stall days, since when I arrived at my spot it was still smoker free, silent, except for the distant, faint chatter of fellow students. I spread my jacket on the ground, and settled into my usual spot next to the garbage bins. They were my silent companions, indifferent and unjudging. I opened my notebook, pencil in hand, and began to sketch, letting the lines pull me into their world. Mei had inspired me to rework that OC from months ago. It had always felt incomplete, and now I knew why. It had missed that spark. That certain something that I had seen reflected in Mei’s eyes. And if I changed their human design to resemble Mei’s a tiny bit then hey, who would ever find out?
“That’s supposed to be me, right?”
Unnoticed she had sneaked up on me, like a breeze you didn’t feel until it was already there. I jumped, my pencil slipping from my fingers, narrowly missing her as it flew, moments away from turning into a bird and flying away. Oh, how I longed to join it. For my heart lurched, as a mix of shock and mortification crashed over me. If only the earth would swallow me whole!
She stood there, arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
“I… I…” The words wouldn’t come. My face burned, my hands trembling as I clutched my notebook to my chest.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She said as her smile widened.
I hadn’t caught if it had been one of appreciation or mockery, since I was too busy hiding my face in shame. Should I lie? Would she believe me? Maybe she would have if I hadn’t started to turn into a tomato on top of taking years to answer. People with a clean conscience would have corrected her assumption already after all. And I hadn’t. Still hadn’t. And she was still smiling, wasn’t she? Oh god!
She crouched beside me, her presence hypnotic in a way that made it impossible to look away.
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m very pretty after all. Besides, you weren’t the first and certainly won’t be the last person that was charmed by my beauty. It has been a while since I’ve caught the eye of a girl though”, she chuckled.
“It’s not—” I tried to protest, but the words tangled in my throat.
“Mm-hmm.” Mei leaned closer, her grin sharpening into something almost predatory. “And so quick too! I must be getting more beautiful with age. Not that I expected anything else of course. But still. Always nice to have confirmation.”
It wasn’t like that! I mean… girls were very pretty and Mei was especially so.. but, but, but!! I hadn’t drawn her because of that! Really! She had just caught my eye, tickling my creative urge, making me overflow with inspiration until I couldn’t hold it any longer. Until I all but had to draw and sketch and doodle. (Usually only cacti got me going like that, but if I told her that she’d just assume I was attracted to cacti, which I certainly was not! They were just super cool plants that deserved more love and appreciation and… I was losing my train of thought.)
“Now I’m pretty sure I saw you draw more sketches of me. Don’t be shy now, yeah? Show me. Your object of desire would like to see if you've captured her good side… Oh, who am I kidding, I only have good sides. Still. Show me. ~”, she all but sang, that smile still plastered all over her face.
It didn’t feel fake, but it also didn’t look quite right either. Something grey, almost. Speaking of grey, I should deny I had any more. Those were the non-human sketches and I didn’t feel like watching her teasing turn into anger.
“That’s all of them. Really”, I lied, but Mei just gave me an unimpressed look.
I would have made a comment about how she might be a mind reader if it weren’t so obvious that I was not telling the truth. Something about the way my voice changed and my face didn’t match my words, I assume. I’d always been a bad liar after all. So, with my face still burning, I decided to accept my fate. I just hoped she wouldn't tear out the pages. That would be worse than if she decided to shower me with garbage or something.
I didn’t look up as I handed my sketchbook over, nor did I face her when she inhaled, whatever that meant. Nothing good, I assumed. People usually didn’t enjoy being portrayed as gory, tentacle monsters from hell. But it had just kind of clicked for me, you know?
There was something about Mei’s angelic face paired with the storm in her eyes—soft and sharp at once—that made the design feel right. The tentacles weren’t meant to be scary; they were… protectors, reaching out to pull someone closer, but also pushing them away. Like they were both a shield and a trap, wrapped into one. The kind of thing you couldn’t escape, even if you wanted to. Some were wrapped around her legs, like they were trying to hold her steady but also threatening to pull her under. The way they twisted up toward her hands, almost tender but not quite. They didn’t feel evil to me. They felt like they belonged to her, like they were hers. But it also felt like she didn’t know what to do with them, or didn’t want them to be there.
And her eyes… they’d been the first thing I noticed. There was a sadness in them, like a song you couldn’t quite remember the lyrics to, but could still hum the tune. It was beautiful, but it hurt, too. I think that’s why I added the cracks in the halo—the faint, jagged lines that split its perfection. It wasn’t broken, not completely, but enough to make you wonder how long it had been that way. Enough to make you wonder if it hurt to carry it.
My stomach twisted as I imagined her reaction. What if she thought I was mocking her? What if she hated it? What if she saw right through me—through this stupid drawing—and knew I had been staring too long, thinking too much?
What if she saw all of that, and hated me for it?
She paused on one of the drawings, her fingers tracing the edges of the page almost as if—almost like—she was afraid touching it too hard might shatter it.
“This one…” she said, her voice quiet, barely audible, almost like she wasn’t sure herself if she wanted me to hear her or not. “I really like this one.”
My breath caught in my throat. She didn’t sound like she was teasing. There was no sly grin, no playful lilt to her words. Just... softness. Hesitation, even. It was like a crack had opened in her, the smallest sliver of something raw and unguarded slipping through. And somehow, that made it harder to bear.
The sketches weren’t just drawings—they were pieces of me, fragments of myself. Each line was something I couldn’t say out loud, something too big or messy or tangled for words. And here Mei stood, her fingertips ghosting over my vulnerabilities like they weren’t sharp enough to cut.
“I…” My voice faltered, clumsy and uncertain, but I couldn’t stop. “You do?”
She nodded, and for a moment, I thought she might say more. But instead, she just stared at the page, her expression shifting—softening—in a way I didn’t know how to read. Like the picture was pulling her in, speaking to her in a language I didn’t know I was fluent in.
I wasn’t sure she understood what that simple sentence meant to me. How could she? How could anyone? Not when my parents had been the only people who’d ever seen something precious in me and my drawings before today.
It felt too big, too much, this quiet moment between us. Like it might crush me if I wasn’t careful.
“It’s just a sketch,” I blurted out, the words tumbling over themselves in my rush to downplay it. “I mean, it’s not—it’s nothing special.”
It was the wrong thing to say. I knew it the second it left my mouth. Knew in the way that wordless something left her eyes. Knew in the way it got replaced by something that felt less… ‘Mei’.
“Of course it’s special! It’s a drawing of me after all”, she smiled and I mourned the loss of something I’d never known.
Mei’s fingers brushed the edge of the page one last time before she carefully closed the sketchbook and handed it back to me.
“What did you say your name was again?”
“Kaori. My name is Kaori Kruz.”
“Kaori…”
The way she said my name—like she was testing it, tasting it—sent a shiver down my spine. God knew what I’d do if she ever put actual effort into unraveling me. And, almost like if she had spied on my thoughts, she began to smirk. It was a weird, off kilter grin with too many teeth and an eerie kind of energy (that… that certainly did things to me… Absolutely and without a doubt. So much for things not being “like that”.)
“Well. Congratulations Kaori. I’ve just decided that you’ll be my new best friend.”
My heart jumped—half in panic, half in a strange, impossible hope. Because I wanted, wanted, wanted. Had always wanted, yearned for someone to look at me and say ‘You’re enough’. But could she be honest? Just like that? Perhaps it was a joke? But then again… she’d said it with such certainty, like it was a decision carved into stone, like she didn’t care that people like her didn’t usually talk to people like me. It made me ignore the fact that I might be falling for the wrong twin once more.
“Okay,” I mumbled, unsure whether I’d just made a pact with an angel or a devil.
(But finding that, I cared far less about the answer than I probably should.)