I saw her again this afternoon, like a habit I could never break. She walked briskly through the campus lobby where I sometimes hung out after class. Her hair was tied low, her steps brisk, and her gray blazer fluttered lightly as she opened the door. She looked like a world too grown-up to touch—and yet I still wanted to step into it.

"You pretending not to see me?" I asked flatly from behind.

Her steps halted. She turned around slowly, as if she already knew I’d show up. Her face looked tired, but still beautiful. The kind of face I used to watch from afar as a freshman.

"I'm serious," I said.

She exhaled. Her eyes met mine—but not in the way I liked. In a way that made me feel like a little boy uninvited into her world, as if trying to draw a line I wasn’t allowed to cross.

"I'm older than you," she said finally.

I held back a smile. My steps were light as I moved closer, letting the distance shrink until I could catch the soft scent of her perfume. I stood just a little taller than her, enough that she had to tilt her head up to look at me. I liked that. I liked how she still looked strong even though her body was smaller than mine.

"And I'm taller than you," I replied in a calm, controlled voice, locking my eyes on hers. "What does age matter if I'm the one who ends up taking care of you more?"

I reached up to brush a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. My movement was slow, deliberate—daring her to react. “Don’t use age as an excuse. You’re just scared. Scared that I could make you fall too, aren’t you?”

I placed one hand against the wall beside her, boxing her in. I didn’t touch her—not yet. But I could feel the warmth radiating off her, could hear the shift in her breathing. She tried to keep the remaining distance between us, but I didn’t give her the chance.

"I'm old enough to know exactly what I want. I don’t care that you’re older, more established, or that you still see me as that ‘annoying junior’ who’s too bold.” My voice hardened slightly. “All I know is, I just want you.”

She gave a faint, almost mocking smile, but her lips trembled. Her fists clenched at her sides, and I knew she was trying not to waver. That’s what she always did—endure.

I leaned in, my breath brushing against her skin. I wanted her to know how serious I was. “Don’t reject me just because of numbers,” I whispered. “Reject me if you truly feel nothing for me. Reject me if you genuinely don’t want me.”

After I said it, my heart pounded—too loud, too fast. Like I was waiting for something uncertain. My words hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. But I stood there anyway, silent, unflinching. Because for the first time, I didn’t care who opened their heart first. I just wanted her to know—now and forever—that I wouldn’t walk away just because she was scared. That I would keep standing here, even if the whole world said I was too young to love her.