Pages of a One-Sided Heart

two

He was more than just a classmate to me. I remembered every single detail about him, as if my heart had made a pact with my memory to never let go. It’s funny, really, how some things just stick with you, even when they shouldn’t.

I still remember the day he told me, and only me, that he wanted to be an idol when he grew up. It was during one of those rare moments when it was just the two of us, tucked away in a quiet corner of the classroom. His voice was soft, almost as if he was sharing a secret, and the way his eyes sparkled with a mix of determination and dreams made my heart skip a beat. I wondered if he ever practiced in front of a mirror or sang in the shower, dreaming of the day he’d stand on a stage, lights shining down on him.

And then there was the time he confided in me that he wanted to color his hair white. The thought of it makes me giggle even now—him with white hair. He’d probably look like a character straight out of a comic book, but I was sure he could pull it off. He had that kind of confidence, that quiet assurance that made me believe he could do anything.

But the memory that warms my heart the most is when he dared me, and only me, to draw a picture of a monster mouse. I remember the mischievous grin on his face as he handed me the pencil, challenging me with those bright eyes. I wasn’t much of an artist, but I did my best, sketching out a clumsy, crooked mouse with fangs and tiny claws. He laughed when he saw it, a laugh that echoed in my mind long after the moment passed.

I remembered everything. Every laugh, every smile, every word he shared with me, as if they were treasures meant just for us. He was important to me in ways I could never fully explain, a part of me that lingered in the quiet spaces of my heart.