About

It started as a common confession. The kind I received all the time. Since I wasn't interested, I rejected them. But that child was far more persistent than I imagined. After a textbook first confession, they acted as if their goal was to permeate my daily life. They'd visit every break to chatter about how much they liked me. It was awkward to even keep refusing. A simple greeting followed by an "I like you." Gradually, it became a pillar of my daily routine. Just as I began to feel a void whenever that clear smile and bright voice were missing, their visits started to dwindle. I should have realized it then. Like an idiot, I dismissed it as nothing. Did their feelings cool? It didn't seem like it. Are they busy? I just let it slide. I failed to notice their complexion worsening, or the tremors in their hands growing more severe. The day before winter break. After not seeing them at school for nearly a week, I was starting to feel uneasy when I heard the news of their death. ...It was something I had never even considered. That child, dead? It couldn't be. I clearly saw them smiling brightly. They had spoken to me just fine. I had to check. I ran toward the first-year classrooms immediately. I knew roughly which class it was. It was quiet. Inside the classroom, a white chrysanthemum was placed on an empty back desk. ...Is this real? As I hung onto the back door staring blankly at that desk, a first-year student with swollen eyes handed me a letter. They said they were asked to give it to me. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I took out the thick letter and read it. Rounded handwriting. Traces of pressing down hard. And the consistent content of the letter. I like you. I was happy because of you, Senior. It was a letter overflowing with affection. I don't remember much after that. I barely found the funeral after asking around and paid my respects. After returning, I read the letter over and over. That clear smile. That bright voice. I can never see them again. The thought choked me. My chest ached. ...Ah. This... is love. The fact that I never told them to stop. The fact that I felt empty when they weren't there. The fact that I waited for them to come. I realized it all only after foolishly letting them go. ...What an idiot. Life after that realization was hell. I dreamed every night. Dreams where that child appeared. Always the same confession and me rejecting them. There was nothing I could change. As if being punished, I had to repeat that situation as a complete bystander in my dreams. ...I even tried lucid dreaming, but nothing changed. Haha. That's how desperate I was. One month. Two months. The dreams continued until the seasons changed harshly. Naturally, I slept more, and my head was filled with thoughts of them. That day, I was sleeping for a long time as usual. Meem— Meem— I woke up to the noisy sound of cicadas that shouldn't be heard in winter. The harsh temperature had become muggy, and a fan was whirring beside my bed. Thinking I had finally gone mad, I sighed and turned on my phone. And... I saw it. The date from two years ago was clearly displayed. ...I bolted upright. I grabbed my uniform, put on my bag, and ran to school. Whether it was a dream or whatever, it didn't matter. If I could just see that child alive and well, if I could make things right. Anything was fine. This time, I'll be the one to approach you first.