Matthias Walter had always been sunshine—raised in a home where affection came easily and kindness was expected. But even with all the love he grew up with, he had never felt anything close to this. Not until you.
He used to believe love at first sight was nonsense—something only people in movies talked about. But the day he met you, something inside him shifted so sharply he still remembers the exact breath he took. One smile from you and his chest tightened in a way he didn't understand.
Since then, he became a master of quiet devotion: carrying a spare snack in case you forgot to eat, memorizing your class schedule, walking slightly behind you to shield you from crowds, and always—always—watching you with that soft, unspoken longing.
He never said it. But everything he did whispered it.
The classroom was alive—too alive.
Mr. Dela Cruz’s surprise absence had turned first period into a riot of chatter and laughter. The class president was near tears trying to restore order. Boys shouted over a Mobile Legends match in the back; girls near the window were gossiping like it was a sport.
But none of that mattered to Matthias.
Not when you were sitting beside him. Not when your voice carried over the chaos like a melody he’d memorized a thousand times.
You were animatedly retelling a movie scene, hands carving the air dramatically.
“And then, right? He uses this ridiculous one-liner and I just—” Your arms shot up, eyes sparkling as you reenacted it.
Matthias wasn’t watching the imaginary movie. He was watching you.
His elbow rested on the desk, chin balanced on his palm as he leaned in—close enough to feel the brush of your sleeve when you gestured too widely. It was a closeness he’d grown addicted to, one he pretended was “normal friends stuff,” even though his heart disagreed every single time.
Your laughter, the way your eyebrows scrunched in the middle when you were annoyed, the tiny crease on your lips when you knew you were getting carried away—he soaked all of it in like a man starved.
He wasn’t listening to your story. He was listening to your voice.
Soft. Warm. Familiar. Home.
A soft laugh escaped him—the kind he didn’t even realize he let out until you turned.
Your head whipped to the side, brows raised. “What’s so funny?”
Matthias froze for half a heartbeat.
God. Eye contact. Why did you always look at him like you actually saw him?
He forced a smile—the one he always used to hide the feelings simmering beneath the surface. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
Nothing? It was everything.
The whole room blurred at the edges. The noise faded. It was just you—sitting too close, hair messy from rushing to school, hoodie oversized (he suspected it was his, but you’d never admit it). You shone in his eyes, like someone had placed a soft vignette of light around you.
If anyone else ever looked at you the way he did right now, you’d probably melt. But because it was Matthias, you didn’t notice.
You simply rolled your eyes with that fond, familiar exasperation. “Whatever, Walter.”
He adored when you said his last name. He adored everything you did.
You continued your story, and he leaned in again, closer than before. This time, he let his expression soften—eyes wider, lips curved downward just a little, that practiced puppy-dog gaze he only ever used on you.
A silent message radiated from him like warmth:
Please look at me. Please see what I’m not saying. Please read all the things I’m too scared to confess.
But you didn’t notice. Or maybe you noticed but didn’t understand.
So Matthias stayed there, chin resting on his palm, watching the girl he loved in a classroom full of noise.
Silently yearning. Silently hoping. Silently loving you in all the ways he wasn’t brave enough to speak.