As long as I could remember, he was always like that. Silent and composed. Even so, he offered his best smiles when people gave him ones. He was humble and calm, but in any relaxing air he could be the loudest guy in my class. Like when his friends teased him about his ex, or math stuff—a subject he kept complaining about yet he excelled in. The silence he had kept for himself would break and he would laugh in a way that no one—including me—would believe that it was really him who laughed. As if he was a different person. Surprising me, in a good way. Completely different. He was always like that.
It made my stomach stir and the butterflies would tickle. As long as I could remember, the sensation was always like that. The same.
Then world revolved and time went by. He became the silent and smart guy again. I sat next to him and he started it, or sometimes I started it; we always had a very weird conversation, which always involved him teasing me about the way I looked or behaved like no girl or mocking about my indecent logic. He was always the normal boy and I was the creepy girl. But it was always like that, and I liked it. I never knew whether he felt it, too, though; I never had the guts to ask. But he didn’t stop; he kept making a simple excuse as a start of another strange talk between us so I thought it was okay. It was okay with him. It was okay.
We were always like that.
But well, damn. The world changed. Even we did. We grew, which made us different. Parts of us were still the same, but something others grew different.
He was still quiet and excellent guy. He still laughed unlike himself sometimes, but in a softer way. In way that would turn my insides to mush, melting. His eyes never revealed anything people would easily caught, but they were different by then. I knew it; I had been watching over him. Then I realized that those glances, random glances he sent around were not random. They were for someone. A girl. A girl.
She wasn’t me, though.
I was still the creepy and weird girl. I still talked to him, but I knew the exchange was not like the old times. My eyes were still glued on the pace he walked through, and the stupid me couldn’t stop watching. Even when I realized his feelings were not for me, even when I felt knives on my back, even when I thought I had to quit—shit, I can’t!
I couldn’t tear myself away from the memories of us.
As long as I could remember, there were always the memories of us. We liked to play stupid in front of the people, silently telling them that those memories never existed in the first place. But when it was night and I was all myself, alone and thoughtful, I would imagine we were talking like we used to be. He started to make fun of me and I struck back with topics about math just to see him frown. No, it wasn’t like we were fighting or anything. It was just him talking to me and laughing at me, and it was just me enjoying our time and these all—bonds, I supposed. Even if he pretended to never have one with me and I told lies to others that I never had these stupid weights attached to my heart, in a time like this I would still cherish them, treasure it deep down in my heart and locked it for myself.
As long as I could remember, there were us. Even if he never admitted it, even if I was just dreaming about us. Even if we’ve walked to different paths and he never looks back, I still do glance at him. I am hoping, but not for his return. I am not hoping for our time to come back, either. I am just checking, to make sure he doesn’t fall and make mistake, a very big one like seeing the past just like what I am doing.
It is a good thing he never looks back and finds out that I remain a terrible failure of my old self.