I Once Really Liked You
You were genuinely good-looking, with delicate features and a beautiful smile. But, you were also quite awful.
By the time you were in the second year of middle school, you had already dated several girlfriends and shamelessly begged me to write love letters for you. I would flamboyantly pen them with hidden insults, watching you deliver them with glee only to return dejectedly.
You would grit your teeth and say to me, “That girl didn’t appreciate your love letter; how could I have liked someone so shallow?” Then, you would look at my laughing face with full confusion.
You liked to rest your chin in your hand and look at me melancholically: “You like me, don’t you?” Hearing this, I would be so startled that I dropped my pen and punched you hard enough to make you howl. After it happened enough times, I would just roll my eyes at you with a look of sympathy and pity reserved for special needs children.
You, however, never tired of it. Three times a day, you would persist until I leaned weakly against the desk, saying, “Yes, I really like you.” You would grin like a child who had stolen some candy, patting me earnestly on the shoulder and saying, “I knew it! I’m so handsome!” I would look down, contemplating whether to take off my shoe and slap you with it.
You were quite the rascal, while I was just an average student with good grades. We were supposed to be parallel lines. By chance, we became desk mates, and after getting familiar, it became routine for me to punch and kick you.
One time, a boy came to see you, and while you were talking, you casually picked up my pen and started twirling it. I snatched it back and habitually gave you a whack on the arm. The boy was dumbfounded, but you just smiled nonchalantly. At that moment, I realized how much you indulged me, and I couldn’t help but smile.
At that time, all our other subject teachers were easy to handle, except for our math teacher, known as the “Exterminator,” who was also the grade director. During math class, she would walk in with a stern face, and the students around would pull out the required cardboard, but my face turned pale.
The Exterminator’s cold voice echoed, “Students without the cardboard, go stand outside with a book on your head!”
I was about to step out with a bitter face when a piece of cardboard slapped down on my desk. I looked up in a daze to see you already at the door.
After class, you came back swinging your arms. I looked at you, wanting to say something, but in the end, only managed, “Thank you.”
In our class, we were the only male-female desk mates, and we got along well. Since you were always a popular figure, rumors about us flew around. You laughed them off, but I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles under the pointing fingers. Eventually, the rumors got so bad that the Exterminator called me to her office and earnestly advised, “You’re a good student. Don’t get too close to certain people, okay?”
In front of you, I suddenly became silent. When you spoke to me with your usual bright smile, I would only respond half-heartedly.
Gradually, you noticed my distance and seemed to understand something. You forced a laugh, saying, “Study hard,” and then rarely spoke to me.
One day, as I was walking, a friend suddenly leaned in mysteriously and whispered, “Hey, are you and your desk mate…”
Seeing the teasing smile in her eyes, I hastily shouted, “How could that be possible? Even if I liked someone, it wouldn’t be him! His grades are so bad, he’s always causing trouble, and he’s so self-righteous—how could I like him?”
She suddenly looked panicked. Following her gaze, I saw you standing under a tree, hands in your pockets, expressionlessly watching me.
The next day, I walked into the classroom cautiously. You were sitting at your desk, asleep, and didn’t look up even when I sat down. You never brought up that incident, but you also never spoke to me again.
Before the final exams, the teacher arranged our seats based on our midterm scores. As the second-place student, when the teacher called my name, I randomly pointed to a seat in the front.
As I packed my things, you looked at the triumphant smile on my face and said indifferently, “Couldn’t wait, huh?” My hand paused, and it felt like a heavy hammer had struck my heart, causing instant, unbearable pain.
In the third year, I was selected for the math competition class, and you went to the notorious “garbage class.” Though it was only four floors apart, I never saw you again.
Later, I casually mentioned you in a conversation with someone and learned that you had dropped out. She asked curiously, “Weren’t you two close? Didn’t he tell you?” I just smiled, speechless.
The only vivid presence in my youth disappeared without a trace.
Now, I really want to find you and apologize.
Now, I am brave and bold, no longer the timid person I once was.
There was a long period when I didn’t dare think of you, fearing that guilt and longing would break through my heart’s shell. But now, I can finally smile.
That hazy affection has been completely washed away by time.
Yes, you read that right. I once really liked you.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
