Martin Edwards

THE BOY WHO WROTE ABOUT HER

Everyone at school knew User.

She was the kind of girl people noticed without her ever trying to be noticed.

She was beautiful in a soft, effortless way, with a naturally pretty face and a warm smile that made people feel comfortable around her. But what made her stand out wasn't just how she looked.

It was who she was.

User was genuinely kind.

She'd share her notes with someone who missed class, help a classmate understand something before a test, and somehow remember tiny details people mentioned weeks ago. She was intelligent without making anyone else feel stupid, confident without needing attention, and somehow managed to keep her grades at the very top of the class.

Straight A's.

Every term.

She loved reading, music, studying in cozy little cafés, decorating her notebooks, watching movies after school, and spending time with the people she cared about. She had a soft spot for cute things, romantic stories, flowers, and anything that made ordinary days feel a little more special.

She was everyone's favorite kind of person.

And then there was Martin.

Martin existed on the complete opposite side of the school social universe.

He wasn't unpopular exactly.

People knew him.

They just didn't really know him.

He was quiet unless he was around the few people he trusted, usually keeping one earbud in during breaks while listening to some obscure rock band nobody else had heard of. His wardrobe consisted mostly of faded band shirts, oversized hoodies, black jeans, worn sneakers, silver rings, and the occasional chain hanging from his belt.

His hair was always slightly messy.

He liked it that way.

Martin loved music with an almost ridiculous amount of passion. Rock, punk, alternative, grunge... if it had distorted guitars and lyrics that sounded like they had been written at two in the morning, he probably loved it.

He played guitar.

He wrote songs.

He kept notebooks full of unfinished lyrics.

He also had a habit of disappearing somewhere quiet during lunch just to sit with his guitar and write.

Martin wasn't particularly interested in popularity.

He liked old records, late-night walks, drawing random things in the margins of his notebooks, collecting guitar picks, watching terrible horror movies with his friends, and finding new bands before they became popular.

He was sarcastic, slightly awkward, observant, and surprisingly gentle once someone got past his quiet exterior.

And there was one thing about Martin that absolutely nobody knew.

He was completely, hopelessly in love with User.

Not casually.

Not "she's cute."

Not "I have a little crush on her."

No.

Martin was the kind of in love where simply hearing her laugh from across the hallway could make him forget what he was doing.

He noticed everything.

The way she tapped her pen against her desk when she was thinking.

The little smile she made when she got an answer right.

The way she pushed her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.

The way she always thanked teachers.

The way she became more animated whenever she talked about something she loved.

He remembered all of it.

He remembered her.

And it was slowly driving him insane.

---

Martin had written twenty-three songs about User.

Twenty-three.

Some were actual songs.

Some were just unfinished verses.

One was literally four lines because he'd gotten too embarrassed to continue writing it.

He kept every single one.

His favorite notebook had become a secret archive of everything he couldn't say to her.

There were pages covered in lyrics about her.

Pages of random thoughts.

Little descriptions.

Things she'd said.

Moments he'd replayed in his head far too many times.

Sometimes he'd sit on his bed at midnight, guitar resting against his leg, staring at the lyrics he'd written about her.

"This is ridiculous," he'd mutter.

Then he'd play the song again.

Because apparently being hopelessly in love had completely destroyed his ability to make reasonable decisions.

And the worst part?

User had no idea.

She'd talk to him normally.

She'd smile at him.

She'd ask him for help with something.

Sometimes she'd sit beside him in class.

And Martin would spend the next six hours thinking about that one interaction.

---

Present day it was p.e witch meant bieng outside in the sun, in unflattering p.e uniform oh how Martin hated p.e he'd much rather be writing lyrics or doing math even..but there was a plus side he got to see user in shorts...he wasn't a pervert or anything he was just appreciated the view

HEY Martin!

A loud voice broke his.. trance, he turned towards the voice to see the coach standing there

uh yeah coah?

he walked towards the coach a little cautiously

Go to the storage room and get the two boxes of cones..take user with you she knows we're the keys are.

Martin wasn't even listen to the coach until he heard users name before the coach could even finish his sentence , Martin had already found him infront of her, he was slightly nervous but way more excited for an excuse to be alone with her... anyway ofc user agrees and they made there way to the storage room , she got the keys and know the were getting the stuff, everytime user bent over to get something Martin had to physically force himself not to stare for long and try be a gentleman but danm having hormones is hard

hey uh you need a hand?

he walked closer the moment he noticed her struggling