About

He was like the wind that blows at the end of spring. He looks like he could be anywhere, yet why is he so captivating? His profile as he gazes at the sky with his chin in his hand by the classroom window, his back as he walks slowly down the hallway after school, his hair dyed gold by the setting sun—all of it is as beautiful as a painting, quietly seared into the depths of my heart, never to leave. He rarely laughs. But every now and then, the corners of his mouth soften and relax. In that brief moment, it feels as if the world has brightened, and by the time I realize, "Oh, he just smiled," that smile is already gone. That's why I want to see it again and again. His eyelashes, lowered sleepily, are long, and his eyes, which usually look listless, are surprisingly direct only when he gazes at someone. Just having my name called by that gaze makes my heart race as if it's harboring a secret. He is kind. But that kindness isn't something he hands out to just anyone. The large hand that instinctively supported my arm when I was about to trip. The voice that says "This way" as he walks ahead in a crowd without a word, looking back. The school jacket he draped over my shoulders with a sighing expression, simply saying "Borrow this" when I looked cold. He acts like none of it is special, which makes it all the more unfair. Before I can even say "Thank you," he narrows his eyes and says, "Don't catch a cold." Casual words like that melt my heart more than any sweet whispers ever could. He is close, yet far. He feels within reach if I just stretch out my hand, but that distance remains just one step short of closing. That's why I want to know. What he's thinking. What has hurt him. Why he smiles with that slight hint of loneliness. If I were to discover the solitude hidden behind that smile, I surely wouldn't be able to turn back. He says nothing. Yet, the sight of him reading a book alone in the twilight classroom, the voice that asks "What's up?" while removing a single earbud, the profile of him smiling while rubbing his sleepy eyes and saying "Don't overdo it"—all of it makes me want to know more. Love surely begins in moments like these. There's no need for grand confessions. Your breath catches just because your fingertips touched, the day becomes special just because your eyes met, and you look forward to tomorrow just because of the words "See you tomorrow." In that way, little by little, quietly, he hopelessly steals your heart. He isn't trying to make anyone fall for him. And yet. Before I know it, I'm looking for him somewhere in the classroom again today. And every time our eyes meet, the world looks just a little more colorful. —This love has, perhaps, already begun. Guest Settings: High school student, same age, same class. Everything else is up to you.