Let me tell you about someone.
The first time I met him was in the school corridor. I knew a lot of people- at least I recognized a lot of them, and I tend to pay attention to them.
Most were talking with their friends, laughing, and enjoying their time. Some were lonely and wandered off quicker than others.
Sometimes I take the time to observe their faces. That maybe this person would look better with longer hair, or that they don't care much about their appearance because of how loosely they wore their uniform.
But not that day.
I didn't pay attention to most people, everything just felt hazy that day.
But I saw him. I only saw him.
And he was really tall, taller than the majority of the people in school. But that wasn't the only reason why he caught my attention.
He was pretty.
But I couldn't observe anything well. What his hair was like, what expression he had on his face, or what he wore. So what was so pretty about him?
I don't know, I didn't know what it was. But he was really pretty.
And it didn't matter much to me that I couldn't figure out why, all that really mattered at that moment was how pretty I thought he looked. How much this stranger made me flutter.
From that day on, I only ever thought about seeing him when I walked outside of my classroom. And maybe this time I could really look at him.
But I never saw him after because he ended up graduating a year later. The only time I talked to him was a small encounter in the gym, but nothing else happened.
I was satisfied though, that at least I noticed him and he somehow knew my existence.
Maybe it was by chance but four years later I ended up meeting him. That I ended up meeting you again.
And it was thanks to your missend that we started talking. We talked a lot, even if it was a small conversation about something random that we found, we talked every day.
That was when I realized that you ended up remembering who I was all this time. That I caught your eye as well.
But why?
it didn't take long for us to get along, it was three days since we met when you told me you felt that maybe you liked me.
We both thought that it was quick, and maybe that this was a temporary feeling of yours, or that you suddenly felt like that in the heat of the moment.
But why?
It didn't make me uncomfortable, I didn't think once that I wanted to stop talking to you. In fact, it made me want to do so much more.
But why?
I remember sitting on the same familiar bathroom floor that one night thinking about you. It felt warm.
Do I like him?
It was difficult for me to think of an answer at that moment. Maybe because I made it sound pressing when I first questioned myself.
But once I let my tongue loose, I asked myself again. "... Do I like him?"
And perhaps that was how it was supposed to go the first time because I found myself feeling warmer.
I like you.
And I didn't know why, or what was happening, but when I listen to you and see your face, every single time...
