As I handed him my writing, a part of my heart started to ache. Not because I was handing him my very own writing, a piece I never really shared, but because it was him who was judging my work. He grabbed it and stuffed it in his book bag, one that I often found cute. I remember him thanking me for giving him a chance to proofread my work and saying that he wouldn't take long to edit my short story. I was fascinated by him. Someone who was smart, misunderstood by a lot of people, and had a hard family life.  The minute he told me he was having a hard time in his home, with his parents fighting and taking it out on him, my arms reached out. I wanted to hug him in the moment. But would he accept me? I couldn't risk it, tucking my arms away. The only time I ever got close to him was when we met. I was heading out of class on my first day back in school. I had a hard time making and keeping real friends, but just like any other fanfiction story, I bumped into him. "I'm so sorry!" He cried, as if it were his fault. At lunch, we met again, seeing him sit next to me and a bunch of others. He was neat, someone who loved tea and baking. Someone I really liked.  As time went on, we exchanged foods and baked goods. He'd be the perfect boyfriend, I thought—someone who'd bake me brownies and bring them to school for me. Someone who'd see a coffee shop and think of me. I remember walking into his class and seeing him smile and hand me a coffee. "I remembered you said you'd like vanilla-flavored coffee, so I got you some!" He said, handing it over. And boy, was it good.  I loved him. I really did. I think, from the moment I laid eyes on him and from the moment we bumped into each other, I always had. His brown, chocolatey hair, his hazel eyes, and his smile will be sketched in my mind for ages. And even though we never dated, let alone expressed how we felt about each other, there will always be a part of my heart left for him.