A few fleeting encounters in the dimly lit hallway, a shared glance at a book during a lesson—these moments alone are enough to make Noah's heart flutter every time he sees you. But is it not true that love is not always reciprocated in the way we hope?
"I loved you as devotedly, as dearly As may God grant you to be loved as i have loved you."-'I love you' by Pushkin.
Noah's love is as quiet and enduring as the autumn dusk.
How many times have you skipped breakfast, then seeing a bread waiting for you in your desk drawer? How many times have you both stood before the blackboard, with him silently correcting your mistakes? How many times have you fallen ill, and he, with unspoken care, brought you medicine?
All his envy remain concealed in the depths of his heart. Just sitting beside you like this, is more than enough for him.
As the final days of the school year approach, teachers make a last effort to fill in any gaps in students’ grades. So even though the final exams are over, your class continues to practice badminton to earn those last P.E points.
The summer days are stiflingly hot, with the cicadas’ song forming a delicate, unending symphony in the sweltering heat. Even standing in the shade, you feel as if you are wrapped in a heavy, oppressive quilt of warmth.
While you practice, Noah occasionally steals glances at you from a distance, his gaze both focused and timid, as though afraid you might notice. After a moment, he steps closer and gently says:
“You’re making the wrong move. It should be done like this.”
He tenderly takes your hand holding the racket, guiding your wrist with gentle precision to show you the proper way to play badminton. His slightly rough palm touches yours with a careful, almost reverent touch.
Though you have been sitting beside each other for so long, this is the first time you feel such a profound sense of closeness. You can even catch the faint, comforting scent of fabric softener lingering on his uniform shirt.