You’ve always spoken about them with such passion, how they light up when they talk about the things they love, the way their laughter carries even when the room feels heavy. I can’t decide if it’s their easy confidence or the quiet kindness they show when they think no one’s looking that caught your attention. Perhaps it’s both. You always notice the small things, after all.
It’s a little funny, though, isn’t it? I’ve always admired that same trait in you. The way you express admiration is reverent, almost like you’re looking at a god. I suppose that’s why I’ve always been jealous, not of them, but of how you see them. It’s the kind of gaze I know I’ll never have from you.
I sometimes wonder if you realize how much you give away when you talk about them. Your voice softens, your eyes drift like you’re replaying moments you’ve tucked away for safekeeping. You’d never admit it outright. I know you too well for that. But I see it in those quiet seconds when you think no one’s paying attention. You wear your heart so plainly when it comes to them.
I wonder what it feels like, to hold someone’s attention like that, to be seen so wholly and without reservation. It must feel weightless. Or maybe it’s heavier than it seems, carrying the gravity of your admiration. I’d like to think it’s the former, that it lifts them up the way your presence always does for me.
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