In order to get closer to you, I crossed three thousand days and night.
However, you don't need to know cause I'm about to forget you.
46Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNMHbtxLApB
On a blazing summer day, the sky stretched endlessly blue, not a single cloud in sight. The heat was unbearable, and even the gym’s AC seemed to give up. I wiped the sweat dripping down my face as I sat in the stands.
From where I sat, I could see him—broad shoulders, long arms, moving effortlessly as he dribbled the basketball. The crowd around me was wild, shouting his name over and over.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My heart sank when his opponent stole the ball but soared again when he snatched it back with ease.
The clock ticked down. His team was leading. The game ended with a jaw-dropping long-range shot that sealed their victory.
The crowd erupted into cheers so loud it made my ears ring, but my focus stayed on him. His eyes sparkled, and though his smile was small, it carried a sense of deep satisfaction.
There are people like him in this world—people who can flip your world upside down with just a glance.
As the crowd began to disperse, some girls approached him shyly, offering bottles of water. I couldn’t help but feel a little envious of their courage. The bottle of water sat warm in my hand.
---
A friend once asked me if I’d ever liked someone. They said they’d never seen me show interest in anyone.
I shook my head and laughed it off, saying, “Not possible.” But honestly? My heart was pounding at the thought of being found out.
I’ve never been confident enough to talk about my feelings. He and I were worlds apart—there’s no way we belonged together. Instead of feeling frustrated about it, I just felt... powerless.
Light always casts shadows. For me, being in the shadows where he couldn’t see me was enough.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
Coming from a broken family since middle school had made me skeptical about love. Love could turn cold after a while; love felt like an old story that didn’t end well.
But that summer—my first year of high school—everything changed because of him.
I remember hiding in an abandoned classroom on the second floor of an old building behind the school. Hugging my knees to my chest, I cried quietly, replaying every argument after my parents’ divorce and all the coldness from my new family. On top of that were the endless failures at school. It felt like everything was falling apart.
Then I heard footsteps. Startled, I looked up—and there he was. Those clear blue eyes that everyone had been talking about since orientation day were now staring right at me.
Panicked, I quickly wiped away my tears. Great. Just great—getting caught crying like this.
He didn’t say anything at first; he just walked over and held out an open pack of tissues.
I stared at it for a moment before looking back at him in disbelief.
But he didn’t budge. He kept holding it out as if to say, *Go on, take it.*
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I grabbed one tissue from the pack.
He nodded once. “Take them all,” he said simply and handed me the whole pack.
I let out a bitter smile. I must’ve looked like such a mess for him to go out of his way like this. It wasn’t his kindness that annoyed me—it was being seen like this that made me feel so small.
Noticing my hesitation, he placed the tissue pack on the desk instead and didn’t say another word.
The air felt hotter somehow—the AC in this place really wasn’t working—and silence hung between us like an invisible barrier. Two strangers who didn’t know what to say to each other.
I wasn’t in the mood for talking anyway. My eyes wandered out the window where trees swayed gently in the breeze behind the school.
Out of curiosity, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He seemed lost in thought, his calm expression unreadable but oddly comforting at the same time. There was something about him—something steady and unshakable—that stirred something inside me.
It hit me then: even someone as perfect as him probably had struggles too—things he couldn’t share with anyone else. In the end, we’re all just human.
He must’ve noticed me staring because suddenly he turned to look at me directly. His gaze locked onto mine with such intensity that warmth crept up my face immediately. Embarrassed, I quickly looked down to avoid his eyes.
“My name’s August,” he said finally, breaking through the awkward silence with a voice so clear and smooth it almost caught me off guard. “What’s yours?”
“June,” I replied softly.
“June 21st?”
His question threw me off completely. How did he know? My stomach twisted uncomfortably at how random—and accurate—that was.
“I just guessed,” he said quickly as if reading my mind and sensing my discomfort.
“You’re right,” I admitted reluctantly with a small nod, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary.
“So I got it right.” He smiled then—a warm smile that reached his eyes.
“The summer solstice,” he added thoughtfully. “It’s hard to forget.”
“It’s a nice day,” he said again, this time with a smile so genuine it made something inside me flutter unexpectedly.
And just like that—with one smile and one simple sentence—my heart raced uncontrollably as a gust of wind swept through the trees outside, scattering leaves everywhere like they were witnesses to what had just happened inside me.
---
After that, our encounters became mere fleeting moments, marked only by his polite greetings, which I took as simple courtesy. He was the kind of person who had kindness etched into his very being.
The differences in our social classes and circles made me aware of my place.
The conversations that continued until sunset felt like a dream that had come to an end.
Yet the feelings that had taken root within me were unavoidable. They grew and blossomed even more.
I tried to gather my thoughts and emotions, reflecting on myself. The issues with my family, whether old or new, shouldn’t shake me. We are the owners of ourselves, just as he said. My declining academic performance wasn’t beyond repair either; I could start studying again, little by little, to improve my weaknesses.
It wasn’t that I was doing nothing. I was working hard in the background, taking steps closer to the light.
But he was moving too fast.
Looking at my final exam results in hand brought me relief with numbers that exceeded the standard. There was even one subject where I had achieved the best score.
The voices around me made it clear that he wasn’t just at the top of our school; he had also won a gold medal at the International Informatics Olympiad.
I smiled amidst the chaos of admiration for him. I knew he loved programming and always strived to do his best.
From my spot in the sea of people, I watched him stand on the podium, his posture strong and his gaze calm and unwavering. The sunlight illuminated one side of his face.
He spoke a few words with a quiet authority that resonated deeply. His brief speech concluded with a sentence I would never forget:
“Learn and make progress every day.”
Those words encapsulated all my efforts to become better.
The applause was deafening, followed by cheers of praise from all directions.
I stared blankly, feeling something tighten in my chest. Even though I knew it wasn’t directed specifically at me, I couldn’t help but feel touched. Once again, he shook me to my core, in ways unseen.
---
In my final semester of second year in high school, my English exam essay ended up being showcased as an example. Mrs. Claire, our English teacher, shared it across different classes, even with the first-year students.
Honestly, I was pretty thrilled about it. I had poured my heart into that essay about summer, carefully crafting every word.
I never told anyone, but I was bold enough to reach for something in a place where no one could see.
One day, while I was walking to the broadcasting building with a junior, she complimented my essay from a while back.
“I really loved the feelings you expressed in your essay. It was amazing!” she said with genuine enthusiasm, her ponytail swaying as she walked.
“Thank you,” I nodded.
She smiled back at me warmly. “The way you talked about having and losing—it really resonated. I read it multiple times,” she added, clearly impressed.
I couldn’t help but grin. “You put that really well.”
She laughed a little. “I seriously love your writing, senior.”
Then she paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. Her next words surprised me and kind of peeled back the layers of what I had been hiding.
“But, senior, why do I feel like it was written for someone?”
I gave a bittersweet smile and quickly tried to hide my surprise. If only the person it was meant for understood what lay behind those words.
“What did you say?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t heard her.
She shook her head quickly. “No, it’s nothing, senior.” I could see a hint of panic behind her calm demeanor.
I didn’t want to dig deeper. Maybe she was just like me.
Having a secret crush on someone makes us more aware of our surroundings, including the feelings of others. We tend to be more sensitive because we don't want to be discovered.
I completely understand.
---
In my third year of high school, I managed to enter the elite class. Being among the best students certainly made me nervous. I never imagined I could make it this far.
I was filled with all kinds of worries, but seeing friendly faces among strangers helped calm me down. There was one person who had inspired me for years, someone I had looked up to from the very bottom of the class to the top.
He remained unchanged, like that summer day. His calm demeanor and maturity always left me in awe.
I never expected him to feel the same way about me. I knew who I was.
But then he found me.
His gaze seemed to say, *Congrats,* and it sent a shiver through my heart. My eyes started to well up. He always showed such kindness.
However, trying to adapt to this new environment made me doubt myself. I felt more foolish and desperate. My grades started to plummet, evident from my daily test results. I didn’t dare approach him and only interacted politely, feeling completely inadequate.
I was really disappointed in myself.
Staring blankly at the classroom ceiling during a study session, I lost the desire to write. My thoughts hit a dead end, and tears began to flow as memories flooded back. As I gently wiped my eyes, I was startled by a tall figure blocking the light above my head.
Holding my breath, I found his gaze revealing an unreadable expression. He pulled out a chair beside me and sat across from me. This must be a dream; there was no way he was here, in front of me.
His long, clean fingers tapped rhythmically on the table as his eyes scanned the papers filled with my writing before returning to meet mine.
"June."
His clear call snapped me out of my daze. I watched him, feeling utterly lost.
"Give me your pen." He reached for the pen in my hand. With no strength to resist, I let it go.
He quickly started scribbling on my paper. "You got this part right, but your marks are flipped here," he said after finishing.
I stared blankly. His face, his thick eyebrows, his blue eyes, his strong jawline—all so close. My heart raced; its pounding filled my head until I could hear nothing else.
"June, look here." He lifted the paper in front of my face, startling me back to reality.
"August?" I whispered softly.
"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow.
"You remember me?" I exclaimed in disbelief.
He looked at me for a long moment. "Of course, you’re June—the one Mrs. Claire always praised. I've always been compared to you."
"Compared by Mrs. Claire?" I echoed, confused.
He nodded, looking frustrated by my ignorance. "Yes! And do you know what she called you?"
I shook my head, utterly bewildered now.
"An exceptional writer," he said with a sigh.
I knew that. But what truly shocked and confused me was that he knew it too.
Understanding the meaning behind my gaze, he gave a wry smile. "You thought I didn’t know? My ears have grown numb from Mrs. Claire’s praises about you." He rolled his eyes when mentioning her praise.
I couldn’t help but smile back. Suddenly, all the burdens on my shoulders felt lighter—he surprised me yet again.
"And of course, I still remember," he continued softly.
"Remember what?"
Looking into those unreadable eyes made me feel nervous again; all I received in return was a thin smile.
"Finish your assignment. I'll help you," he said, changing the topic.
"Huh?"
He looked at me seriously. "Here," he pointed at something written in the corner of my paper, "Don’t write that you’re stupid."
"You’re not stupid," he said earnestly.
I was taken aback. When I messed up again, he reminded me of what truly mattered: valuing myself. How could it be that I didn’t fall for him?
---
One evening at the end of summer in August.
It was my last day as the director at the broadcasting club—the place where I kept myself busy, stayed productive, and, honestly, found myself again. Just like he once said, I’d eventually find my place. And maybe this was it.
Usually in the afternoons, we played songs requested through anonymous letters. The letters were picked randomly from a mailbox, and the songs were broadcasted in classrooms during study hall. It was a way for students to take a breather and enjoy a little slice of teenage life.,
Honestly, I had a selfish motive: I wanted to play his favorite playlist on his birthday.
After all, it was my last day on the job; I convinced myself it would be okay.
Spending time in the same class allowed me to get to know him better—his preferences, likes, and dislikes. I wrote everything down in my diary so I wouldn’t miss any interesting facts I discovered about him each day.
I maintained our relationship like that of close friends, being careful not to reveal too much.
The playlist began to play, featuring beautiful instrumentals with heartfelt lyrics. It continued on repeat until the very last song.
Come on, I may have written about you all my life,
but like a habit of speech I’d never forget
My imagination is tracing the paper now
And there you are, always at the tips of my fingers
In the midst of the electric guitar’s melody, I whispered softly, "Happy birthday," sending him my blessings.
And there you are, always in that summer.
I let out a sigh of relief. My task was complete.
I turned off the equipment, tidied up the room, greeted the juniors who came in, and then walked away.
On one hand, it felt like something was missing—the place where I spent so much time searching for myself.
But on the other hand, the happiness of being able to share a little bit about my existence was enough.
August 31st. A summer that I will always remember.
***
After the exhausting final exam, the vibe in the room was a mix of frustration and relief. I watched my classmates rushing out, while others slumped over their desks, completely drained.
I let out a relieved sigh. Surprisingly, all the questions I had practiced and the material I had crammed didn’t make the exam too hard. Sure, some things didn’t change much, but at least I made progress. The results wouldn’t be worse than before.
This was the last exam, and I gave it my all. Once the results come out, I can plan my college path more confidently. Getting into my dream major shouldn’t be too hard.
Thinking about how high school was coming to an end left me with an odd emptiness.
Where would he go? How far would he chase his dreams?
These questions stirred a reluctance in me. While I had taken one step forward, he had already taken a hundred steps ahead.
The proud son of heaven. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him.
Packing up my books and pens, I got up and left the classroom.
The final night of self-study started with rare freedom granted by our homeroom teacher. 46Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPswtoR1Z3n
Mr. Sam, our strict math teacher, rarely ever smiled.
“Good results,” he said proudly, his eyes scanning the room.
The class immediately erupted in excitement. Someone who barely ever said “good” suddenly said it. Mr. Sam must’ve been talking about our impressive exam scores.
“You’re free today,” he continued, “but don’t get too noisy.” He warned.
After leaving class, the buzz didn’t die down right away. I overheard discussions around the class president—apparently, they were planning a movie night with a projector. Leaving school was still off-limits, but having fun in class was allowed.
I smiled to myself. Not bad to relax for once. Glancing at my phone, I replied to my mom’s text not to prepare dinner, we had conversation for awhile.
And suddenly something caught my ear from the door’s direction.
Someone came running in, panting heavily. It was Josh—a friendly classmate. His rushed entrance immediately grabbed everyone’s attention.
“Hey! Listen up!” he said excitedly between breaths.
“Look over there! Alice and August are together!” he shouted, pointing out the window towards the school’s back garden.
My heart sank. It felt like a hammer hit my chest. The shocked gasps around me only made it worse, throwing me into chaos.
From where I sat by the window, I could see them clearly.
Under the garden lights, they stood facing each other. A girl looked up at him with admiration and love in her eyes, while he looked down at her—she barely reached his shoulder—with an expression I couldn’t quite make out.
Voices around me gushed over how perfect they looked together. I bit my lip to hold back the bitterness.
I shouldn’t feel this way. This mix of insecurity and jealousy only made me worse.
I knew many girls liked him—some openly, others secretly. He was like a magnet; just standing there drew people to him.
He always turned them down kindly before things got too deep. That only made me more afraid that he might say the same thing to me.
But seeing him with someone as amazing as her left me feeling utterly defeated.
The best girl and the best guy—they truly belonged together.
Clenching my pen tightly, I wrote in my diary and ended it with a sense of helplessness.
The best people deserve to go to the best places.
Eagles must embrace the vast blue sky.
---
46Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1lAPjnbTSa
