the boy on the cliff ☯

library

After that day I couldn't deny it. It ate away inside me, an impossible secret I wondered if I'd ever tell. I knew it, and Chanyeol didn't. That was the problem.
The days that Chanyeol sat on his own at his old table become less and less frequent, dwindling on extinct.
I begin to think of him as my best friend, the only best friend I've ever had.
And I know that's all he thinks of me as. A friend.

Chanyeol glances up at me from the floor. "Are we done yet?" He questions. "I have to be home kind of soon"
"Sure. Well, we can be done anytime. But if you're parents are going to worry, just text them. I wanna finish this, at least!" I point at the open book in my lap. I am sitting on a chair in the library, attempting to study for a history exam. Chanyeol is sprawled on the scratchy floor at my feet, his legs tangled beneath him, books piled in a wonky heap by his side. It's near impossible to concentrate when he's there, but I'm trying.
"They won't worry." He says darkly.
I don't say anything, but turn a page instead.
"Just ten minutes?" He pleads.
"Fine." I sigh, but I'm not annoyed with him. There's not much point finishing this book anyway, I'm not taking any of it in.
"Aren't you supposed to be studying as well?" I accuse, flashing my eyes over his empty hands.
"Erm... I am." Chanyeol says hurriedly, a look of pure guilt appearing on his face. He snatches up a book from the pile beside him.
The library is mostly quiet, yet our hushed conversation bounces off the walls and fills the entire room.
Chanyeol stretches out on the floor lazily and opens his book.
I scan my eyes over another paragraph of the one in my hands but my gaze is drawn back to the boy at my feet. I admire the way his skinny jeans cling to his calves, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on reading.
He's a giant. An adorable giant.
I end up having to re-read the entire page. The words swarm across the page, making no sense. I blink hard. I will not fail this exam.
Chanyeol calmly takes out his notebook, fishing a tiny, chewed pencil out of his pocket.
"What are you writing?" I ask curiously, craning my neck to try and see for myself.
He tilts the notebook away from me.
"Stuff." He says shortly. "Everything. Anything, really. Well..." He thinks about it for a second before continuing. "You'll see."
I huff loudly, but a smile spreads across my face. "You're so mean!" I retort. "When can I see, then?"
"When it's done." He tells me patiently.
I flick through another page of my book, the sound of pencil scratching over paper in my ears.