A/N: Ok, here we go. This is a story I finished up over on ao3 just recently, and I've just made the move over to ffnet as well. Forgive me if I mix a few things up, I'm still figuring out the differences in how to use the two sites :) I'm going to put this story up in its entirety now, and then slowly work on some of my others over the next couple of weeks, but if you want to see them in full you can just jump straight on over to my ao3 page. Details are in my profile.

Anyway. Some things about this story; it's mostly fluffy, but it's rated M for Chapter 4 (some violence but only results in a minor injury) and Chapter 7 (mild smut). Individual chapters that require warnings will be marked accordingly (which is what I do for all my fics) and you're welcome to skip either or both if that content's not for you.

This is also an AU fic where both Samar and Aram are much younger and of course, far less traumatised than canon, so the same sort of personality is there but they're a lot more innocent and so on.

I hope you enjoy their adorable kidselves and adorkable teenselves! :)

1999

'No, you misunderstand,' he quickly interjected, his eyes pleading with her to listen. 'I'm not asking you to stay. I'm saying... What if I go with you?'

She paused, taking a short but sharp breath in as his words hit home.

A wave of emotions rushed over her; surprise, caution, fear and delight alike... But most of all, there was adoration.

'Are you sure?' She asked, her voice barely audible.

/*/*/*/*

1984

He was five when he first saw her. She was four. She was born in that house, and he was moving in next door.

He peered over the fence between their front gardens that was nearly as tall as he was, the fence that was covered in climbing red and white rosebushes that prickled his skin... But he didn't care. Not at first, anyway.

He was fascinated... Awestruck, even.

She danced about the front patch of grass between the flowerbeds, her little brother only just able to walk and eagerly follow her. She was barefoot, allowing the soft ground and grass to be felt under her toes, and she wore a long, flowing, dark blue tunic dress. Her hair was dark, curly and untamed, flying behind her in the light breeze as she moved. She was happy, and carefree in her innocence.

He remembers little from such early years, but he remembers that. He remembers thinking even at his young age, that she was beautiful.

And he's been in love with her ever since.

/*/*/*/*

1998

Aram had sat out in his mother's beloved back garden, reading to her from the latest book to have taken her fascination. She couldn't read beyond the basics, having not been allowed to receive much of an education in her youth, but still she loved stories... And she loved to hear her husband or son read them to her. Aram had delayed starting to read the latest chapter, however. He had delayed it with small talk until he saw out of the corner of his eye, that familiar shadow flash across the side fence and then settle, going very still.

That was when he started to read aloud; not at any of the times his mother almost teasingly asked if and why he was delaying it –with a curious expression as if in truth, she knew the answer but she was simply feigning ignorance for her son's benefit... But when Aram knew Samar was there, sitting in her usual place behind the fence in her own garden, and that she was listening too. Samar loved stories, just as Aram's mother did. The difference was that Samar did know how to read; she too, hadn't been allowed much of an education outside of home, but with the combination of her outspoken parents and discreetly sharing her brother's schoolbooks, she had still learned plenty at home.

Though it was Aram's voice she loved to hear. He had a way of bringing her favourite stories to life even more so than her imagination ever could.

Once the chapter came to its end and his mother returned inside, Aram waited for a moment. He waited to make sure his mother wasn't lingering just inside the door, watching him... And then he darted across the garden to the wooden fence. He sat down and crossed his gangly legs in the grass beside it, where he knew Samar was just on the other side... Where there was a small hole and a loose plank from an incident with a soccer ball when her little brother Shahin was only seven.

'You were late,' he murmured softly, leaning his head against the wooden planks. 'Mother kept asking me if I had lost my voice or something... I was worried there for a moment that I'd have to start without you.'
'It's been a long day,' she sighed in response. Through the small hole in the planks, Aram caught a glimpse of her weary smile. She really did seem tired, but happy to sit there with him all the same. He smiled softly back; that point in the back fence was one they talked through nearly every day for years. It was where they developed their deeper friendship beyond their combined family dinners where their interactions were otherwise supervised, the one they were supposed to keep hidden... But it was that same friendship that they both treasured. It allowed them to speak without judgement, without fear of the town's ire that looked so harshly on their parents.. And most importantly, it allowed them each someone to confide in, whether they were supposed to or not.
'Long, how?' Aram asked gently.
'I argued with my father today,' Samar sighed again. There was a pause, and Aram furrowed his brow in concern as he eyed that weary expression on her face once again. Samar didn't tend to argue with either of her parents. In fact, as Aram thought back, he couldn't really ever recall it happening in the past. Samar's parents caught the ire of the town for the same reason his own did; they rejected many of the traditions and rules that everyone else lived and breathed by. They were firm believers in girls being allowed to learn, not being forced to marry at a young age, and in many other things like that. It was for that very reason, that though both families were frowned upon by the town, and though they at least partly differed in faith, they found a strong friendship with one another. It seemed unusual that Samar would argue with her father in particular; he was, after all, one of her biggest supporters. At her current age of 18, there were already whispers around the town, rumours speculating why she hadn't yet been married off, but Samar's father was adamant; he wasn't accepting offers for his daughter's hand simply due to it being common practice, nor for money. He wasn't at all interested in her living the rest of her life unhappy and as nothing more than a cook, cleaner, and producer of offspring for the family line of a man who couldn't care less about how she felt. Samar's father still wanted her to be safe, to be careful not to interact with unrelated men in public beyond manners and small talk –lest it result in particularly dire consequences- but other than that he wanted her to marry a man that she loved... And so in every decision he technically had to make for her, he –discreetly- insisted on her input first.
'Do I dare ask what you argued about?' Aram cautiously began. There was a pause, and a bitter sigh he heard from the other side of the fence, as if she was determined in what she wanted, but nervous to say it out loud.

'I want to leave,' Samar finally murmured, almost inaudible. Aram's head whipped around, away from leaning against the boards, to staring through the small gap instead. 'Aram, I want to leave this place and go somewhere else... Anywhere else, where I can be free to do what I want and not be told I can't just because I'm not a man.' A breath caught in Aram's throat as her words rang in his ears, and their meaning struck him like a punch to the gut. He wanted her to be happy, he really did. He saw frequently how much the restraints on women tore away at her inside, and he hated it. He missed the bubbly smile that could barely ever be wiped from her face when they were little, only to be replaced by a more weary one as they grew and began to understand the delicate nature of the society in which they lived. But, the few times he ever saw her warmest, most genuine smiles now were when they were talking, just the two of them... Secretly. And that was the dilemma; he wanted her to be happy and clearly, the things that made her happy weren't things she could do where they were... But at the same time, he didn't want to lose the girl who was easily his best –and only, if he was being honest with himself- friend. He might have had the privileges of the male gender that she did not, but that didn't mean he wasn't ostracised too. Just by nature of being raised by his own outspoken parents, people sometimes avoided him as well.

And then of course, there was that perpetually bothersome fact that he loved her.

'Do your parents not want you to leave?' Aram tried not to sound even vaguely hopeful.
'They don't want me to go,' Samar reluctantly tried to explain, 'but they know I'm not happy here. They would miss me, but if I really wanted to leave I don't think they'd actively try to stop me.' She paused again for a moment, and Aram waited patiently for her to answer the question that still lingered in his brain; then why the argument? 'But,' Samar slowly spoke up again, 'I can't leave. They can't afford to send me away, which means if I want to go I have to earn the money myself... And who's going to give me a job? Nobody who owns a business here will hire me, they think I should be married, not working. So I'm stuck here.' The final words rang with particularly bitter voice, and came with Samar's shoulders slumping miserably against the fence hard enough that Aram could feel it shake against his own.
'Not... Everyone,' he began warily. For a second Aram couldn't believe he was saying what he was about to say... But he had to. His happiness in having her stay there couldn't depend on her being where she was so miserable. Samar's brow furrowed in confusion, and she turned, glancing curiously through the hole in the fence.
'What do you mean, not everyone?' She asked, almost suspiciously.
'Not everyone who owns a business here thinks you should be married instead of working,' Aram murmured back. Samar offered him a small smile, but otherwise slumped back against the fence.
'Your father won't hire me to work in your family's bookstore,' she sighed flatly.
'No,' Aram hesitantly corrected her, 'but I would.' Samar's eyes went wide. 'You know he retires next week, and then the store is mine... I was his assistant, but when I take over I'm going to need one of my own. You could do it, all you have to do is stick price tags on things, and put books on shelves.' Or rather, that was what Aram had done as his father's assistant; all the things his father couldn't quite get around to in the shop as he grew older and slower... Aram had no doubt that with his comparative youth, he could probably run the whole store on his own. He also had no doubt that with the success of the store in recent years, plus his wages from working for his father, he could probably afford simply to give Samar the money... But she wouldn't want that. Even if they both feigned ignorance of the fact she really wouldn't be doing much other than sitting in the back room reading, she would still prefer at least to have the job title.
'You hire me,' Samar quickly shook her head, her voice rising slightly with concern, 'and you could lose half your customers.'
'Not necessarily.' Aram was grinning now, no longer cautious, but pleased that his initial plan was coming together even better than first thought, the longer he considered it. 'For most of what you'd have to do, you would be in the back room. Setting books on shelves or anything else that really needs you in the main area should be done early before the store opens or late after it closes. If you're worried, nobody has to even know you're there.' Aram paused again, studying through the hole in the fence, the way Samar's eyes were wandering as she processed the idea. 'And I guess the bonus is... You could read any book you like when you don't have anything else to do.'
'Are you sure?' Samar breathed, staring through the hole at him in utter, amazed disbelief.
'Mmhmm.'
'You would have to ask my father first.'
'I'll ask him tomorrow,' Aram murmured back. 'Do you think he'll say no?' In all honesty, Samar wasn't sure. In most part, she doubted her father would say no. The sound of her mother's voice calling out for her from inside the house, calling her back inside, rang in Samar's ears and stopped her from really answering Aram's question, but for a split second, she ignored it. All she wanted for the moment, was to be able to touch him... To grasp his hand or brush against his arm or something that could convey how grateful and adoring she was right there in that moment, but despite the fact that the one plank in the fence between them was loose and she could probably reach through it if she desperately had to, Samar knew she shouldn't. They really weren't even supposed to be talking in secret, without supervision, let alone holding hands. That would be the one level of rebellion against the rules that her parents might actually step in and stop, just to prevent some kind of scandal... So Samar settled for leaning her head and her hand back on the fence, against where she imagined his were. She hated having to settle for that, but it was the best she could do.
'I have to go,' she whispered to him, trying to hold his gaze as earnestly as she could through the tiny hole in the fence, 'but thank you.'
'Go,' Aram murmured back, nodding. 'I'll see you tomorrow, perhaps.'

Next up; the origin story of the hole in the hence, in 'The Fence'.