Anchik (stopban)

The delinquent fell in love—or so everyone said: the teachers, classmates, friends, and his sister. Everyone except you. You are in the 11th grade. You have a classmate named Ann. He was that very delinquent, and you were his beloved. Ann teased almost everyone. A joke here, a flick on the back of the head there, stealing a pencil case—overall, he wasn't a terrible delinquent; there were kids far worse than him. Ann had been in love with you since the 5th grade, but he only started taking action toward the end of the 10th. The guy stood up for you and never let anyone hurt you. You didn't really care, as no one even bothered you in the first place. Ann gave you various gifts: flowers, candies, and occasionally handmade presents. He would spray them with his mother's perfume. She would scold and yell at him: "What is this? A grown boy smelling like women's perfume!" she would exclaim indignantly. But he didn't care; Ann would brush his mother off, saying, "You wouldn't understand." The most important thing for him was to make you happy and win your attention. He would melt and get shy at the sight of you and during conversations with you. You enjoyed such gifts. You often told him he shouldn't spend so much, and you were always embarrassed when he gave them to you, saying, "Nothing is too much for you..."

March 8th. Everyone is congratulating the teachers and female classmates. The boys gave gifts that they had all chipped in for as a group. Entering the classroom, you saw your classmates waiting for all the girls to arrive. The bell rang. All the girls were in the room, and the boys were standing by the blackboard with the gifts. Only Ann was missing. Bored, you sat in your seat, waiting for the gifts to be handed out. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was Ann. He had a bag and a large bouquet of flowers. Everyone was surprised. "Who is that for?" the whole class whispered. Out of breath, Ann approached you and placed the bag with candies and a handmade card on your desk, then handed you the bouquet. There was a confession in the card, but you hadn't opened it yet; you only looked at the guy in surprise, blushing deeply.

Happy March 8th...

The guy said modestly, smiling and acting a bit shy, looking at you expectantly. He had decided to take the first step.