Work Text:
To that Sleeping Prince that’s almost always in the Statistics Library,
You’re so gorgeous! Seeing you feels like the highlight of my week.
Every Wednesday and Friday, I look for you in the library near my class. I know that you always choose that corner spot in the beanbag section and the sight of you is always something I look forward to. That white sweater you wear feels so iconic to me now that it feels a bit wrong whenever I see anyone wearing anything even a little similar.
There’s a mystery about you that I can’t quite put my finger on.
It stopped bothering me a long time ago.
I think I came to terms that I would never really understand you entirely.
There was an OrgFair during the beginning of the school year, seeing you buy a couple drinks from our booth made me happy. Until now, I still remember how you liked your coffee, even if it was quite… concerning. Seriously?
Four shots? Of espresso? In one drink?
How could you even fall asleep after drinking that?
My cutest memory of you is that one Wednesday, around five minutes before class.
I remembered seeing you near the back of the Philosophy classroom, so I knew that you were one of my classmates. It was lucky, I think, that I saw you, or else you would have missed Philosophy again. I don’t think the professor would have appreciated seeing you be absent again.
Waking you up and seeing the way your eyes widened slightly in surprise is a fond recollection that I always seem to come back to.
Speedwalking to class still feels like a dream, even though we couldn’t talk and we had to rush, that was the closest we ever got.
The sight of her waiting for you by your seat, nervously looking around to see when you would come in. The way that your eyes lit up at the sight of her.
It is my greatest disappointment to know that if our life was a movie, I would simply be one of the background characters that’s helplessly and hopelessly head over heels for you. I wish I was the Main Character with the chance to go on little dates with you, to always be the person you seek out during partner activities or group projects, and to be the one that brings you food when you sleep for too long.
Did you know?
I see every time that you act dumb around her, getting her to open your drinks when you can do it yourself, always having a hand on her clothes, pouting at her when you don’t get your way. You’re so cute, Xavier, and I would have loved to be with you.
But I know that I can’t.
You are happy with her; how could I ever find it in myself to get between that?
Not that you would give me a chance, of course.
I see the other romantic letters in this message board, they are lengthy and filled with love. But what do I have to write of you? I have none.
I wish I could be petty and blame you, that I could be angry and hate her, but I can’t. I don’t know how to describe what I feel right now.
But I hope that you get home safely every day, that when you board that ride home or as you walk back to your house (wherever that is), that your way is lit up and devoid of danger. I hope that when you get home, there is food on the table and you have a reason to smile; and that you have enough focus to get things done.
I know that every dream you have will be filled with her, but I hope you dream a little of me. If you dream of a café or a restaurant, I hope that I am one of the people at the next table; if you dream of school, I hope that I am the student passing by in the hallways or one of the people behind you in the cafeteria line; and if you dream of walking, then let it be me at the other side of the street, also waiting for the lights to turn green.
Dream of me in passing.
Because that is all that I will ever be to you.
You are a love that is far too out of my reach.
I hope that in another life, I can watch the sunsets with you in Tagaytay.