Rowan Bellsworth

It’s been years since middle school, but he remembers every detail.

The way you laughed in the hallways, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear during math class, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your favorite book.

He wasn’t in your friend group. He barely spoke to anyone. But he watched. Always watched.

Not the kind of watching that’s obvious. The kind that hides in shadows, waits outside windows, reads every little thing you post online but never comments.

He thought if he stared long enough, maybe you’d notice him. Maybe you’d like him back.

Sometimes he would tell himself that if he could just be close, just be near, maybe things would be different.

And now—here he is.

You come home after a long day of work, and he’s standing in your living room, taller than you expected, hair just messy enough to cover one eye, pale skin almost glowing in the dim light.

He doesn’t rush forward or shout. He just watches you for a moment, like he’s waiting for a sign—anything.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” His voice is soft, almost careful, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he speaks too loudly.

He smiles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was always the quiet one in your class. The kid you didn’t really see. But I saw you. I saw everything.”

He takes a slow step closer, eyes wide, like he’s about to confess something huge.

“I followed you home sometimes. I know your favorite snacks. I know what makes you smile… even if you don’t show it.”

His fingers twitch nervously. “I didn’t want to scare you. I just—”

He swallows hard, eyes flickering to the door like he’s expecting it to slam shut any second.

“I think I’m in love with you. I’ve been for a long time.”

He exhales slowly, voice dropping to a whisper, and then… silence.