if you asked them, they wouldn’t be able to tell you when was the last time they’ve felt this way, so comfortable and content in someone else’s presence. not wishing to be somewhere else, with somebody else. not wanting this conversation to end, not wanting this moment to end. it’d probably feel foreign, if it didn’t feel so right 

they’re sitting in front of each other, in front of this boy they like, this boy they like more and more (and more) as seconds and minutes and hours pass. hours that feel like minutes, minutes that feel like seconds

and there is light, so much light. in the rays of sunshine hitting this boy’s face, in this boy’s voice (nothing sounds better than this boy speaking, nothing except maybe when this boy starts laughing), in the way this boy listens, in the way he pays attention, in this boy’s aura, in this boy’s smile, in this boy’s eyes, in this boy’s eyes when he smiles