To the guy I loved who loved me back

It didn’t take that long. But I thought it would.

I secretly stared at you at Math class, my eyes would scan every hair on your body, I would look at every inch of your skin, searching for bruises and scars you may have inflicted on yourself, or if others did. I looked at you from afar, and it was nice. I was contented. It was okay.

But then I told my friends about you. Suddenly, everybody knew. And I think you’re already one of those people too. You knew I liked you. I like you for the reason unlike any others. While women my age prefer bad boys with leather jackets who’d change for them, I liked you because you were good, you were good but you knew when to be bad. I liked you more because even when you knew my feelings towards you, you never treated me bad for it. It caused my heart to instantly attach to yours, hoping that your heart would attach to mine too. And it slowly did. I talked to you, you answered, and it was a cycle. I was happy because you were slowly opening up to me. I went full out with my feelings, you knew everything. And I did too. I knew how you managed to get that scar I saw once at Math class, I knew why you have that unnoticeable mark on your shoulder. I knew basically everything, and I knew you liked me too. I know it by your smile when I look at you at Math class, I knew you liked me because when I look at you, you were looking at me too.

But there was one thing I didn’t know about you until you told me.

You told me your favorite part of the day was Math class.

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