This one-shot is based on a real memory from my own life. There was a boy I saw every morning on the bus, and I never had the courage to speak to him. This is the love I never confessed—but it stayed with me. Maybe someone reading this has loved silently too. If so, I hope this makes you feel understood.
I don't remember the first time I saw you.
Maybe it was just another morning. Just another bus ride. Just another stranger.
But somehow… you became everything my eyes searched for.
You weren't even that handsome. Not in the textbook way.
But you had something else—something quieter.
Maybe it was the calmness in the way you stood, or the way your shirt was always neatly tucked in. Maybe it was your Lenovo bag, always slung over the same shoulder, or how you scrolled through reels on your phone as if the world around you didn't exist.
You didn't try to be noticed.
And yet… I noticed you.
Every day, I sat on my usual seat, like a ghost of my own routine, watching you.
My heart would race, but my body stayed still. I didn't smile. I didn't wave. I just… looked.
And in those silent moments, you became something more than a boy on a bus.
You became my morning peace. My invisible comfort.
I've seen so many boys in school, in my neighborhood, on other buses—but no one felt like you.
Sometimes, when our eyes met—by accident or fate—I would quickly turn away and look out the window, cheeks warm, heart thumping.
I never meant to stare too long.
I always wondered, "Am I making him uncomfortable?"
And so, there were days I didn't look at all.
But still, I felt you there. I always knew when you entered the bus, even without looking.
One day, the bus was crowded. I stood on the girls' side near the front, sighting you like always. You were busy watching reels. But then, an old lady got in. She pushed past me and I got shoved closer to the boys' side. I shot her the most dramatic side-eye.
And that's when it happened.
You turned.
You looked at where I was supposed to be.
And when you didn't see me there… you searched.
Your eyes moved side to side.
Until they found me—just beside you.
And the moment you noticed, you turned back to your screen like nothing happened.
But I saw it. That small hesitation. That quiet curiosity.
Was it just habit?
Or… did you miss me in that one moment too?
There was another morning.
I was headed to an important exam—tired, nervous, not expecting anything but stress.
You were there again.
I didn't notice you at first. Not until the driver stopped the bus—he was sick, and told all of us to get down and take another one.
I stood there, confused, surrounded by strangers. And then… I saw you again.
You were walking toward a share auto.
And without even thinking, I followed.
I didn't know where that auto was going. I didn't care.
All I knew was that you were there. And so, I sat in the back. Quiet. Small. Close enough to see you.
You turned around. Once. Twice. Every time the driver slowed down, you turned like you were looking at the road—but your eyes always landed on me.
And for those few minutes, the world shrank to the sound of a rattling engine, the weight of a shared silence, and your glance.
But when the auto stopped…
You got off.
You wore your bag.
And you left.
You didn't look back.
Not once.
---
Maybe I was just a face to you.
Maybe I was one of a hundred passengers, and I only imagined it all.
But even if you never knew me, I knew you.
You were the boy I looked at every morning.
The boy who never smiled, but still made me feel warm.
The boy I followed into an auto without knowing where it would take me.
The boy who never said a word… but still left a space in my heart.
You never waited.
You never stopped.
You never looked back.
And maybe, you never felt it at all.
But I did.
And even though it hurt, I'm glad I got to love you—
quietly, completely, and beautifully—
even if it was all in silence.
---
And then—after six months—I saw you again.
For all those days in between, I would glance at the bus stop where you used to board.
Every morning, I searched.
Every morning, you weren't there.
Eventually, I figured it out.
You must've started taking the train.
But on July 10, 2025, something changed.
The bus was crowded that morning. I could barely see through the gaps between people.
Still, I found you—by your white-colored AirPods.
That tiny detail, that instinct... it was you.
The moment I saw them—saw you—my heart began to race.
You stepped inside the bus before my stop, and I froze.
We both got off at the same stop that day.
But we had only three, maybe five, minutes of that fleeting moment.
You were standing near the steps, and I picked up my bag, standing directly across from you.
Even then, you were listening to music—lost in your world.
But you wore a red shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.
It was the first time I'd seen you wear that color. And honestly?
> You looked so bright, I forgot how to breathe.
When you turned your head and ruffled your hair, I swear—my heart skipped.
You weren't even trying. And yet, I was completely lost.
When our stop came, we both got off.
You adjusted your shirt, quietly walked away, and blended into the world again.
But me?
I stood there, watching you—like someone hopelessly stuck in a moment.
---
I don't know who you are.
I don't know where you live.
I don't even know your name.
But you came into my life like summer—
And disappeared like winter.
You left a mark.
And you didn't even know it.
"I still take that bus. Sometimes, I swear I see your shadow in the crowd—but it's never you."
---
I still don't know if I was the only one feeling this.
Maybe I imagined it all.
But sometimes… your glances, your pauses—they made me wonder.
Did you feel it too?
Even now, I carry your memory like a pressed flower between pages I can't open.
If fate ever brings you back into my life…
I'll still look at you. Silently. Longingly.
But until then…
> Let me bid farewell to my feelings—
To the boy who bloomed my heart and broke it without knowing.