That year, he still didn’t understand what love was. All he had fallen for was that faint, almost-there smile.
That year, when weighing his studies against love, he chose love without a moment’s hesitation.
That year, a little favor from him sent him into raptures. He could hardly wait to announce his happiness to the whole world.
That year, he stumbled onward with a wound left by love, yet swore he would never give up.
That year, when he finally held him in his arms, he understood: it was all because longing had sunk into his very bones.
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Somehow, a boy like this took shape in my mind: his smile pure and bright. Perhaps when he first began to fall in love, he still didn’t know what love was. He simply remained devoted to one person, all for the thrill of a beating heart.
Probably everyone has a time like that, when they give without regret, think nothing of the future, and ask for nothing in return. But after the passion burns out, devotion is used up too, and few manage to hold on.
So I wanted to tell this boy’s story: his devotion to love, and his refusal to regret it. Perhaps such persistence is even a little foolish, but to me, it is utterly endearing.
This story is a slow burn, and almost entirely clean, so proceed with caution, everyone.
