suho

Looking back, the day he moved his seat from across the room freshman winter to the seat next to her should have been a sign to just confess. But she was too preoccupied with trying not to be distracted by his endearing smile every morning as she took notes on Darwin. The teacher droned on and on, and it was hard not to bask in Suho's prescence, in the way everything seemed more peaceful and happy around him.

So, it came as no surprise to when this was the only thing she learned from that class: Suho could be the ultimate evolved human, with his ethereal facial symmetry and otherworldly attractiveness. She almost felt offended by his bland perfection. No one could ever find fault with him; he was endearingly earnest, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled always brought a raging blush to her face, which she would have to quickly hide with a curtain of hair ravaged by split ends.

After all, she was a solidly average girl with braces and frequent breakouts across her forehead, the latter of which she hid with her side-swept bangs. She had short, curvy legs and a long torso. Thinking that she could be with him seemed blasphemous for the collective human gene pool. She almost felt like writing that on an exam when she saw an question about natural and ual selection, except then she remembered that her teacher would be reading it, and she stopped.

Years later, she could still remember the conversations they had about the bad cafeteria food, the difficult homework assignment, and his love of classical music. She remembered laughing at some of his jokes, even though they weren't funny at all, just so he would look at her for a split second with appreciation before he tried to make everyone else laugh as well.

She wondered if the fact that he had moved his seat next to hers meant anything back then, when she was too oblivious to realize it. Her friends had thought that they were getting closer, and that he may have liked her. But she had refused to believe them.

It would be delusional to think so, she had said. But the possibility haunted her ever since.

Which is why she was doing this.

She brushed a strand of healthy hair over her shoulder, seeing a hint of blue out of the corner of her eye, and smiled, tasting the strawberry lip gloss she has just applied. Her mascara-laden lashes ticked her eyes.

"Hey, congratulations," she said when his name was called for a class award. She teteered forward in her wedges, her rosy pleated dress swaying around her thighs. He had grown in the three years since they had shared the same class; his jaw was sharper and his shoulders broader. He looked good in his crisp white button-down and black slacks. She felt a rush of warmth as she met his eyes; it was still all too easy to feel the butterflies fluttering again in her stomach.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes wide and twinkling. "I can't believe it. It's my first award."

She stepped forward and hugged him, her arms going around his shoulders, "I'm happy for you." She leaned back, taking a deep breath. 

"I really admired you back in biology class, and I know you'll do great things," she whispered.

"I admired you, too," he admitted, voice soft.

It was as close to a confession as she and he were willing to give. And with only a week left of school, she was fine with it.