A Curious Encounter closed

Heather was walking through the green grass and the students playing and talking and smiling. She was holding her faithful brown notebook in her hand and looking for a seat in the shadow of any tree. Since all the trees seemed stormed by all kind of groups of students, Heather was considering getting back in the library so she could write freely. But as she was turning back to the castle, she saw a beautiful tree, free of students,  waiting peacefully for her.
While she was walking to this one, all sorts of stories and thoughts and characters were crossing her mind, ones on boats, others on planes. She was getting high in her head with all of them when she arrived at the lush tree. Being this close to the trunk, she guessed a shoulder and a book's corner on the other side of the wooden shadow maker. 
But now that she crossed all the way to the tree, she just felt down, the back against the rough trunk. She sat cross-legged and opened her notebook. As she was taking a pencil, a lot of pictures and stories were coming back to her mind and she started to close her eyes. She was taken deep into her imagination.

There, a girl was crying, sitting on a bench, alone in the bright sun. In front of her, there were three red poppies flowering through the grass. Behind those, Heather could guess a child, laying down in the grass. He has little fragile shoulders and black hair. He didn't move at all. We couldn't say if he was even breathing. As Heather was coming closer, the boy began to move. As she came closer and closer and closer. And black. His eyes were holes in the middle of his head. He has nothing but nothing in his eye sockets. Nothing to be scared of. Heather was just finding again her friend. Simon. Her eyes-free friend. He was feeling her presence. He began to walk to her, limping. And smiling.

A rustling made Heather startle. But this was only the boy against the trunk turning a page. As Heather was coming slowly back into reality, she was losing first details, then the faces of her story. She didn't want to lose those, but the more she tried to catch them, the more they were flying away through her fingers. She grunted briefly.

Elrich was taken away from his reading once more by the sound of footsteps behind the tree he was sitting under. He took a brief look over his shoulder to see the girl sitting down with a notebook in her hands. He figured he was not the only one who decided to enjoy the nice weather while still keeping to their own thoughts. He looked back at his book and began to read again.

He turned a page, finishing the chapter on manticores, when he heard the girl let out a but of a grunt. He couldn’t help but look over again when he heard this, but he looked back toward his book immediately, as not to bee noticed. He did, however, notice that she was not reading from her notebook, but actually writing in it. As it often did, his curiosity began to eat at his mind, which would not let up if he did not look over again.

Elrich looked back around the tree toward the girl, and down at her notebook. He was not close enough to read her writing in entirety, but he could make out some key words: something about a crying girl, some flowers, and a friend of hers who didn’t have…eyes? He did not want to get caught being nosy, but it was written rather well for somebody their age, and he simply couldn’t resist good literature. So, he tried to inch slight closer around the tree to get a better look.

Heather was in a bubble. The famous bubble of the people at ease, in their element. She was drawing some letters, trying to remember her thoughts. She wasn't hearing any noise now she was with herself. She was just watching her notebook, circle of black fog, and covered in black words. 
She looked up from her notebook since her pencil didn't have any more pencil lead. The sun was as shiny as possible and several students were still playing and yelling around. 

Suddenly, Heather remembered the boy against the trunk and got a little sad about thinking he could be gone. She didn't hear him turning pages anymore. Maybe he wasn't there. But as Heather wanted to look behind her, she heard a rustle of robe just next to her ear. Maybe it was him, maybe it was not. Anyway, there was someone looking above her shoulders, reading her words. And she did not like that at all. 

Heather closed brutally her notebook, letting fall her pencil and stood up in front of the boy.
He had fair hair and blue eyes. He was looking up at her as she was trying to get mad, but she couldn't. He was just being curious about her writing, that's all...
Heather couldn't find how to act. She was just standing there, her arms dangling, her notebook on the grass, her pencil hidden among the grass stalks. Talk or go away? You don't like to talk, Heather. Just go away. But he doesn't seem mean. He was just being curious. Don't go as he might take it the wrong way. 

Heather was just panicking inside. What should she do? Stay or go?

Elrich had gotten too close, but he did not care. He was truly intrigued by the girl’s writing, and all he could think about at the moment was getting a better view. Just as he had gotten into a position to be able to read entire sentences at a time, the notebook was abruptly closed, which of course startled him a great deal. He jumped back as the girl rose to her feet, and he could feel a mix of nervousness and shame come over him. He knew what he had done had been rude and pushed boundaries, especially since he had no idea who the girl even was. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, as it often did.

At first, he did not want to look up at the girl’s face, fearing what he assumed was a disposition of pure anger. He forced his eyes off the ground and slowly gazed all the way up to her face. To his surprise, she did not look nearly as mad as he thought she would. In fact, she looked like she was experiencing a lot of emotions at once and was equally as panicked as he was. She was just standing there with her arms dangling at her sides.

After a bit of a pause, Elrich decided to break the silence with whatever he could manage to utter.
“I’m…uh…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so nosy,” he said slowly, his panic making it hard to get words from his brain to his mouth. He looked down at the girl’s notebook and pencil, but he wasn’t sure if picking them up would be seen as helpful or just make the girl uncomfortable. “Your writing is really good,” he mentioned, trying to find something to say that might lighten the mood.

“I’m…uh…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so nosy.” 

Oh. He was apologizing. You see, Heather? He is nice and curious. He doesn't bite. Talk to him. Talk to him. He seemed as confused as her.

“Your writing is really good.”

Ok, and now Heather, you are just blushing like a tomato. And talking to yourself. Answer him. Go.

"Uh... Thank you...? That's not a big deal, don't worry... You were just being curious, I would have done the same."

Heather tried to smile, but she was too nervous. She felt ridiculous, standing in front of him. As he was looking at her notebook again, she took it and began to search for her pencil. Where is it? You are ridiculous, Heather. That's too many time searching a pen. Come on, it can't be so far away!
Since she wasn't at ease, she just stopped looking for her pencil and hold her notebook in her hand.

"Uh... Sorry I got up this brutally. I usually don't let anyone read me. It kind of makes me feel strange. Like, read me! I write stories so you have to read them because I'm a writer !!!"
Calm down, Heather. Breath in. Breath out. You are just shouting at him, you unlovable person!
"Sorry... Again. Uh... You, do you want to read it? Sorry, stupid question. You don't have to. Uh... Well..."

Heather was fiddling her fingers nervously. Why did she talk? She could have been in the castle at the time, not confused and ridiculous with this nice boy she doesn't know sat on the floor while she's standing upon him. Saying this to herself, she sat down in front of the boy so he didn't have to break up his neck.

"Uh... Thank you...? That's not a big deal, don't worry... You were just being curious, I would have done the same."

Elrich felt a wave of relief fall over him when she said she was not angry with him, and when he saw her begin to blush, he could not help but give off a big grin. The best part was that his compliment was not an empty one that some people would use to diffuse a situation; he really did think her writing was impressive, even if he could only get glimpses of it.

"Uh... Sorry I got up this brutally. I usually don't let anyone read me. It kind of makes me feel strange. Like, read me! I write stories so you have to read them because I'm a writer !!!"

When she looked down to get her journal, he noticed that she was having some trouble finding her pen. His eyes darted between the blades of grass, but he could not seem to pinpoint it, either. When she began to apologize his smile grew even larger. Usually he was the one tripping over his words, so it was nice to be the composed one for a change. “Don’t worry about, it’s totally fine,” he replied to her apologies, his smile not leaving his face. He was still very curious as to what she had been writing, but he did not want to pry anymore than he already had.

"Sorry... Again. Uh... You, do you want to read it? Sorry, stupid question. You don't have to. Uh... Well..."

When she asked if he wanted to read what she had been writing, his eyes beamed with excitement. “Yes, I’d love to read it!” he exclaimed, not doing a very good job at hiding his joy at the opportunity. He inched over to give her room to sit down, not keeping his eyes off of her journal out of sheer anticipation. If she had not let him, he surely would have spent the next few days wondering what her story was in its entirety. "And if you don't mind my asking, why don't you usually let people read what you write?"

The boy had a large grin and beaming eyes.

“Yes, I’d love to read it!” he exclaimed.

Oh... What a joyful face! His face made Heather smile frankly at him. 

"And if you don't mind my asking, why don't you usually let people read what you write?"
"I think because I want my characters to stay mine. You know, when you read something, you picture the characters, but sometimes your character isn't like the one I used to think about while writing. And it just makes me wanna correct you. But I know that writing is about different ideas, from author and from readers. So I would say that I don't let people read what I write because I am afraid of their judgment," she said.

Heather stretched her arm to give him her notebook. He was smiling. It was funny seeing him that eager to read. Also a little strange... Why would anyone read her writing?

The notebook was closed. When the boy opened it, she saw all of her letters, her tidy writing laying down on the paper. She felt strange about letting someone read her. Like I said, Heather, writing is also about sharing with others. Maybe he won't like, maybe he will. Maybe he won't understand her universe, maybe he will (If he does, she would be really surprised, her world is so messy...) The boy was turning the pages avidly.

So I would say that I don't let people read what I write because I am afraid of their judgement"

Elrich was grateful that the situation had been diffused so easily. A lot of people would have simply gotten angry and either yelled or stormed off, but she seemed like a rather pleasant person. Perhaps a little shy, but still pleasant. He listened intently to her answering his question, and her answer made a lot of sense to him. He had never written anything like this himself, which may have been part of the reason he was intrigued by it, but he could understand being afraid of negative judgment. When you put this much work into something, you don’t want to risk other people mocking it. “Don’t worry, I’ll try not be to too critical,” he said in a joking manner, his smile not leaving his face.

He eagerly took the notebook when she extended it to him, excited to finally indulge his curiosity. When he opened it, he was greeted with letters and stories which he immediately began reading. He had high hopes for the girl’s writing, but what he was not expecting was the sheer amount of effort that she had put into it. As he went through the pages, it was like another world was being unveiled to him; one that had come purely from the girl’s mind.

“This is absolutely amazing! It’s like you’ve crafted your own universe in these pages. The amount of creativity this must have taken is astounding. I’ve never seen anything like it!”