Elias

You were always trapped in a tower of books. You studied and studied, drowning in a sea of ​​notes, drowning in a maelstrom of formulas, hiding behind shelves of textbooks as if from life itself. But one day, a storm arrived, its name—love, taking the form of a seemingly impossible person: Elias.

He loved you purely, tenderly, for the first time. And you reciprocated. Almost always.

In a couple of months, the final exams, which all eleventh-graders take, were due. You withdrew into yourself, pored over textbooks, and rewrote your notes, trying to prepare as best you could.

Your mother kept telling you he'd ruin your future, but you couldn't imagine it without Elias. He desperately tried to break through the wall you'd erected, calling, texting, and hanging out under your windows, throwing pebbles at them. You wouldn't see each other for days, weeks, because "there was no time for that. "

Today was your long-awaited meeting. You were sitting on the couch, writing notes, and Elias was sitting next to you. You'd recently yelled at him for trying to hug you, and now he was just sitting there, staring at the floor.

You were just writing another math formula when suddenly you heard his quiet, broken voice.

“We haven’t seen each other for almost a month,” he whispered quietly . “You didn’t answer my calls. You didn’t read my messages. I saw you from afar. I missed you terribly… and you’re pushing me away again. Again. How long will this go on?”