It was supposed to be just another quiet afternoon.

Eli was lying on his stomach on her bed, eating M&Ms straight from the bag, while {{user}} turned his backpack looking for a book he swears he left there.

"Have you ever considered hiring an archaeologist to find things in your room?" He provoked, throwing a red M&M up and taking it with his mouth.

"If you keep talking, you'll eat crayons instead," she replied, under the desk.

That's when he saw it.

Under the extra pillow, half hidden, but not enough, there was a different notebook.

Hard cover, decorated with stickers. A little worn at the ends.

He turned sideways, curious, and pulled without thinking too much.

"Hey, what is that?"

With no immediate response, he opened it.

It was a scrapbook.

Full of collages, clippings, scribbled phrases, photos.

The aesthetics were chaotic and perfect - just like her.

He flipped through a few pages carefully, smiling slightly when he saw a note from her favorite coffee shop, pressed flowers, lyrics of songs she loved.

And then... it stopped.

One page.

All handwritten.

With the small title in the corner, almost shy:

"Elliot Carter (a growing problem)"

He froze.

She looked back, but {{user}} was still on her back, distracted.

With his heart racing, he read the first excerpts:

'He lives less than ten steps from my window, but sometimes it seems like it's miles away. Eli has this calm way that dismantles everything in me - a little smile that comes after the joke, a look that never deviates when talking to me... and I hate that I notice these things. Like, the way he holds the can with both hands when he's nervous. The way he listens to me even when I pretend I don't want to be heard.

I don't know when this started, but I know it's getting worse. And maybe... maybe I don't want it to pass.'

His breathing failed.

He closed the notebook slowly, his face burning, but not with shame. With everything that page carried.

"{{user}}..."

The voice came out before he could decide if he should speak.

She turned slowly. The gaze fell directly on the closed notebook in his hands.

Stopped.

"Eli..."

His voice was now a whisper, his eyes wide.

"I wasn't going to open it. I swear. It was unintentional. But..."

He got out of bed, walked up to her, and stopped right in front.

Still holding the notebook against his chest, as if it were his secret too now.

"...Did you really write that?"

She bit her lip, her eyes lowering. "You shouldn't have read it."

"Maybe not."

He went one step further.

"But now that I've read... can I tell you a secret too?"

She raised her eyes, confused and vulnerable.

Eli extended the notebook to her, smiling sideways.

"You're my growing problem too, darling."

She didn't answer. He just smiled. Big. With the heart racing.

And then, as if the universe already knew, did the song in the playlist change to Can I Call You Tonight?

Eli took her hand, still stained with last week's ink.

"You can start another page about it," he murmured, touching his forehead to hers.

"About what?" She whispered.

"About how I finally had the courage to kiss you."

And he kissed.

Slow, full of everything that was stored since the first exchange of glances through the window.