Classroom of the elite short Stories

Silent Admiration

It starts innocently enough.

standing by the window, gazing down at the bustling courtyard below, where students are chatting and laughing, heading to their classes. It's a lively scene, yet I feel miles away.

My gaze lands on-Ayanokoji.

He walks beside Ichinose. They're talking but their voices lost in the air before reaching me.

Ayanokoji's hands are tucked into his pockets, and every now and then, his eyes flicker toward Ichinose, who is speaking with her usual bright enthusiasm.

She laughs at something he says, her smile warm and easy. My chest tightens trying to suppress the strange mix of emotions inside me.

My fingers press against the glass—it's cold. The thin glass between us like an invisible wall, separating his world from mine.

I wonder what could possibly holding his attention so completely? Are his words as effortless as they seem? Does he have feelings for Ichinose, or is it just friendly conversation?

For a brief moment, his eyes sweep the window, and I freeze, holding my breath. But he don't find me.

Makes my heart skip a beat, and I instinctively pull my hand back from the glass, as if he could somehow sense my gaze.

His gaze stays fixed ahead, uninterrupted as he walks beside Ichinose.

My breath catches, but he doesn’t falter—his world remains undisturbed by my presence.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, The noise of the classroom behind me feels distant.

I know I should turn away, return to my seat, but something holds me to this spot, watching him.

I stay by the window a little longer, watching as they enter the building.

In cafeteria, I find my usual spot at the edge, tucked away but still within sight of him, catching the way he leans back slightly in his chair.

He's with his friends, but there's a distance in his gaze, as if he's there and yet somewhere far away at the same time.

I can't hear what he's saying, not really, just the low hum of his voice blending into the background noise.

It's like he's figured out the world in a way that no one else has. His friends laugh at something he says, and I find myself smiling too, though I have no idea what the joke was.

What would it be like, I wonder, to be part of that world? Just to be close enough to really hear his voice, to talk to him, to share in his silence, But...

I could never bring myself to approach him. He is like a distant star, beautiful and untouchable To touch him felt like sacrilege. There is a purity in his distance that I dare not tarnish with my clumsy words and unsteady heart.

My hand hovered over the table, fingers trembling as I considered writing a note. But the thought of him reading it made my stomach knot.

It was safer to admire him from afar, to weave fantasies in my mind where I was brave enough to talk to him, to share a piece of myself with him.

His eyes never looks my way, and honestly, I'm okay with that. For now, just being near him felt enough.

But sometime, my heart refuses to stay quiet, urging me to reach out, be greedier but I'm too frail to listen to its pleas.

Each day, I want to be brave, to take a step forward, yet, here I stand leaning against the school gate, acting like I'm waiting for someone, but deep down, I'm just holding my breath for him.

And there he is, stepping out of the main building.

I watch as he lifts his gaze to the sky, It's as if he's searching for something-something that eludes him, just like I'm eluding my own feelings.

A wish, perhaps? A dream? I can't help it; I find myself lost in that moment until our eyes meet.

My pulse disturbe as his eyes meet mine, and heat floods my face. Before I can think, I jerk my gaze away, playing with the strap of my bag, as if it could hide the blush creeping up my neck.

Why am I so afraid? Afraid that if he'll find out the mess I am inside.

It's easier this way, isn't it? To remain a ghost in his world, to admire from a distance rather than risk everything for a glance.

He continues on his path, and as he walks away, my heart aches with a longing I dare not voice00p.

The students rushes by, filled with laughter and chatter, but he remains my fixed on gaze-unreachable and perfect.

You know, it's funny...

I practice my words alone in my room, rehearsing them over and over until they feel natural. I stand in front of this mirror, rehearsing lines like an actor preparing for a performance, but they vanish the moment I step outside.

I imagine saying something simple, like "Hi," but it feels like I would need to offer more-something of myself that I am not yet ready to give.

Every day, I rehearse lines I’ll never say, practicing how I’ll act when I finally gather the courage. But when I see him, all those words vanish, what's left is nothing but the flutter in my chest. So I accept my place. It’s a strange feeling, really, knowing that I’m choosing silence when every part of me urge to speak.

I’ve created a small, safe space in my heart, where my feelings for him are mine alone.

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and before I know it, a whole year has passed. I’ve watched him from afar, quietly holding onto this love that grows heavier with each passing day.

It’s not always easy. Some days, my heart feels heavy, wrapped in a gentle sadness that never completely fade away.

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Kinda short but I think stretching it out would ruined it.