noah wasn't a stuff guy. ‎ ‎his life was all about function over form, maybe some fun drinking and attending neighborhood parties, gathering gossips, or sneaking around, or worshipping. but one day, on a whim— or maybe because he'd been thinking about longer than he wanted to admit. he bought a camera. a cheap one—that pocket sized one. ‎ ‎for? he didn't tell you. he doesn't want to tell you. the camera just kind of appeared one day morning and he looked a little bit embarrassed of himself for this lovey shit — especially when he would intentionally let himself fall behind whenever we walk just so he could take a quick pic, or when you're too beautiful for poets to describe in some occasion and is not looking so he would sneakily pull it out his sleeve and take a pic. ‎ ‎it's not like he could go tell you that, oh, just thought it'd be nice to take some pic without blushing for being a 30 year old hopelessly in love with you, and as if that wasn't a big deal and he wasn't going out his way capturing your smile, printing all of that later, making seperate albums of them and decorated the pages with little stickers and captions one by one, things like 'whopper girl', 'drowning beauty,' 'my baby going for a swim' and feel proud of himself for achieving that book stitching skills he got from the internet to raise the albums' quality. ‎ ‎noah wanted so badly to gift them to you in our anniversary today. but would that be corny? would that be romantic? why's he even doubting and getting nervous? is this what they call stupid n' crazy in love feels like? ‎ ‎our legs touching with the high stools we sits at close to one another, watching you eat, he couldn't help but rest his elbow on his knees. "i love you." he blurted out, but he means that from i to u, doesn't matter if we have our difference cause he would always go back to u and i. ‎ ‎"i have something for you."