Day Nineteen: Formality

Day Nineteen: Saturday

Nineteenth Challenge: In Formal Wear

Tears streamed down the cheeks of the eleven-year-old girl, not bothering to wipe them off as her friend’s funeral took place in the grand garden of Wammy. Speeches were told and flowers were laid down, while Heather stayed glued to her seat, looking down and silently sobbing at the fact that she lost someone important to her.

A the Great.

A the First.

A the Brilliant.

Linda couldn’t get her out of her seat, and could only look on sadly as she walked back inside. The funeral finished and she still remained outside, now watching as the sky remained blank and unoccupied by the clouds. Grey tinted the view, a slight rumble occupying her ears. The rains would come soon. They would come just as her tears did, quiet and unnoticed by many.

She didn’t notice the footsteps come up from behind her.

Her eyes didn’t dart to the person who sat next to her, who sighed softly and looked her way. She could feel the person’s eyes on her, but she didn’t want to speak just yet. Her friend just had his funeral. Other people had to wait, she needed time to grieve. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but a hand gently clasped her shoulder and a white handkerchief was placed on her lap.

She turned her head to the left with a lost, confused expression.

The boy looked a little older, with his blue eyes boring into her reddened green ones. His lips were pursed and he had wild ginger hair, some sticking up in random positions. He caught her looking at his hair and quickly tried to smooth it down, working a bit in the process. His cheeks were light red from her noticing.

He took his hand away.

“Um, it’s best if you use this.” He gestured to the handkerchief.

She stared at it and then picked it up, as if unsure on how to use it.

“You wipe your face. Sort of like this.” He took it from her and dabbed the tears away, making her redden a bit. She snatched the piece of cloth away and wiped her own face, eyes wide as she recognized the boy, but couldn’t put his name into place with his face…how odd. Who was he?

“He was…he was your friend, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

Her reply was soft, quaint.

“I’m sorry, too.” Her accent, though fading, made the letters in her spoken words rise and twist in peculiar ways. “He was amazing. Fantastic, even…” tears leaked out of her eyes once more, and she wiped them away before she could see them fall. She thanked her lucky stars her long black hair shielded her face from the rest of the world.

However, she knew he could see the fallen tears that made marks on her dark dress. The dress that fit her petite, thin frame and reached her knees. Now that she looked at him, she could see that he was in formal clothes – probably dark pants and a long-sleeved, button-down shirt with a tie – and that he still looked at her with the same emotion on his face.

Concern.

“Everyone loved A. No one knew his real name, though.”

“He liked keeping it a secret.” A shrug came from her. “He liked being mysterious…” she suddenly became aware that she had used his handkerchief. “W-Wait, your handkerchief…I’ll have it cleaned and give it back, I swear,” she started. Her accent became more prominent as she panicked, but stopped when the guy flashed a quick smile at her.

“You can have it.”

“…have it?”

“Yes. It would match your formal dress, yeah?” he nodded at her attire, making her cheeks darken in color. “Not like we should dress like this more often.”

“…thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” he began, but cringed at an angry yell coming from the inside. “God – I sort of have to go.” She looked at him.

“Will I see you again?” the question left her lips before she could stop it.

He thought for a moment.

“Yeah, I will. Alright. As longs as we’re not in these clothes,” this made her smile slightly, “it’ll be alright. Don’t cry.”

Another yell, muffled.

“I have to get going. See you,” he bid her goodbye and ran off, yelling back at the one who had called him. Heather smiled, but suddenly realized that she didn’t get his name.

She looked at the handkerchief all over, but saw nothing.

All she had of him was the boy in the formal clothes.