It started with a boring history class.
Pearl tapped her pen against her notebook, her mind drifting between the droning voice of the teacher and the grey sky outside. She could see Sharon a few rows ahead, sitting by the window, chin resting on his palm, sketchbook balanced on his knee under the desk, pencil moving in quiet, practiced strokes.
She smiled, biting her lip. She shouldn't, but she did.
She tore a small square from her notebook and scribbled:
"Hey, Sharon :) Don't sleep off!
—Star"
She folded it carefully, pressing the edges down before shaping it into a tiny paper plane. The teacher's back was turned, explaining something on the board. Pearl took a breath and flicked the plane forward.
It glided softly, landing perfectly on Sharon's sketchbook. He blinked, startled, looking around before his eyes found hers. She waved her fingers, stifling a giggle.
Slowly, carefully, he opened the plane. His lips twitched, the softest smile she had seen from him yet, as he read the note. Then, with a small shake of his head, he pulled out a pencil, scribbling something on the same paper before folding it back into a plane.
When the teacher turned, Sharon launched it back, the plane landing neatly on her desk.
She opened it, heart thumping.
"I'm not sleeping. Just drawing.
—Sharon"
She glanced up, and he was already looking at her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the class, the noise, the world blurred into the background. It was electric, soft, and warm all at once.
She quickly scribbled again:
"Drawing what?"
Plane sent.
He unfolded it, glanced at her, then at the paper, and scribbled back before sending it over.
"You."
Pearl's breath caught, her fingers curling around the paper. She looked up, and he was still watching her, his pencil paused, his eyes saying what he couldn't in that moment.
A flush crept up her neck, but she smiled, a small, real smile that reached her eyes.
That day, they didn't need words spoken aloud. Their paper planes became conversations, laughter hidden in scribbles, secrets folded into paper, flying quietly between them.
Later, as she packed up her bag, Pearl tucked the final paper plane into her notebook, pressing it flat like a memory worth keeping. She looked back one last time, catching Sharon watching her, his sketchbook open to a page where her laughter was captured in pencil lines.
And for the first time in a long time, Pearl felt seen.