Age: 16

Oddly enough, it looks a lot like I'm doing maths in this class. Glancing from the book to what I wrote with furrowed eyebrows, as if thinking "Did I answer this question correctly?".

I'm never doing maths. Not here, at least. The constant sound of pencils scraping against paper gives me a headache and I can never seem to get that annoying beeping noise to quit. It keeps me up at night. I should probably get that checked out, or stop listening to music in earphones on the loudest volume. Ah, never mind... I'm just writing nonsense here. In my maths book. That's funny.

But mostly... I think I can't focus on doing maths because you sit only a few seats away from me. You're very close. You have to walk past me to get to the pencil sharpeners. One time you looked at me while walking back to your own seat and my heart didn't stop beating at an abnormal speed until almost fifteen minutes later. I blushed, too. That was almost more embarrassing than the way my heart beat from you just walking past me.

Sorry, I guess I'm rambling again... Ah, not like it matters. You won't read this stupid note anyway. In fact I'll probably burn it after class, just because I'm clever like that.

Besides writing stupid things like these, I mostly draw. Writing meaningless, cheesy Chinese sayings because they look cool, and drawing symmetrical little nonsense drawings. I draw lips, trying to make them look like yours. Too bad I can never do that. I guess your lips are too different, too plump and too complicated to draw. Simple as that. Or maybe I just at drawing.

On another note, maybe it's good that I can't draw you properly. If you saw it you'd think I'm some sort of creep (I kind of am).

Oh... I keep thinking about your lips. The thoughts can occupy my mind for hours, through the whole school days... I waste classes thinking about them. How would they feel? The slightly chapped texture, the wet surface. Would they curl up as you laugh against my own lips? Would they be puckered, straight relaxed maybe? I can only imagine, but that's fine. I can only imagine your heated breath against my lips and your eyes closing as you sigh. Tilting your head nervously and moving as if you're unsure about your every move.

That'd have to be your first kiss. That thought haunts me day and night, through classes and when I get home. Even in my sleep, I dream of it. I want to be the one to kiss you first, the only one you had ever let your guard down to. Skipping class, sitting in the corridor and looking at each other for minutes until we lean in. Laughing at how weird it feels... Maybe you wouldn't be a good kisser. I hope you aren't, because that's cute. Maybe you'd plunge your tongue so deep, inexperienced. I'd laugh and you'd blush, but I'd say it's okay. I'd embrace you and hold you close.

I'd be silent and hold your around your back, trying with motions to show how precious you are to me. Then I'd peck your lips again before we decide that school and we should go home instead.

Maybe you'd even sleep over at my house. Preferably with my parents gone. I'd put on a movie and curl up in bed with you, under the covers. Maybe lion king? I heard you like it, which makes me very happy. It's actually my favorite. Disney used to make a lot of good movies, don't you think? Oh okay never mind. I want you to sit on my lap as we watch it. Hold you. Kiss your neck from time to time. your hair so calmly, feel your fingers entwine with mine. Kissing each one of your knuckles, one at a time.

Okay. Class is almost over and all I accomplished was drawing how you look from this angle as well as writing this stupid little text. You're very pretty from this angle, I have to admit. You put your uniform on so sloppily, I wonder how you aren't getting into trouble. You look just about as concentrate as me.

   OK CLASS IS OVER AND IM GONNA BURN THIS NOTE: BYE. I hope you won't find out how much I love you.

Age: 36

Coming home after a long day, I can't be bothered to care where he is. It's still too early for Chaeri to be home from her friend yet, which explains why it's dead quiet in our small apartment. Throwing my shoes off and hanging my jacket above, I walk towards our little bedroom. The door is closed so I begin to wonder what he's doing.

He's sitting there, on the floor. My notebook is thrown to the side and only a crumbled checkered paper is in his hands. He looks concentrated, a tiny smirk on his lips. 

"When's this from?" he asks, mockery in his voice. He doesn't turn around to look at me though, which I'm thankful for. I'm sure he'd laugh if he saw the blush that had spread all over my cheeks and neck. A grown man, business man at that, blushing.

"Why are you reading that?" I ask in a hushed voice, walking forward and trying to grab it. He stands up and holds it behind his back, now smirking. "You weren't supposed to read that!"

"It's really cute," he says, turning around again, eyes skimming through the words. "I'm guessing... High school? We had maths class together in high school, didn't we?"

" you," I sigh, not bothering to try taking it away from him again. He can mock me all he wants. I turn away and lay down on the bed while ing the first few buttons on my dress shirt.

"I know you love me," he smiles and joins me on the bed. His arm immediately wraps around me and he laughs.

"Yeah, I do," I say, more to myself than to him.

It turns quiet. A calm, comfortable kind of quiet. All I hear is his breathing and my beating heart.

All I want is for everything to stay just like this.