🌻 Two Years and a Sunflower Smile

Elias and Aoi

I've been in love with Elias Santiago since tenth grade. That’s 730 days, give or take a few missed ones when I tried to convince myself it was just a phase.

Spoiler: it wasn’t.

We were classmates then. I sat by the window with my sketchpad, and he was the guy who'd always run into the room like he was born late and the world had to adjust. Friendly, messy-haired, too radiant for mornings—but his energy filled the room like warm light.

He had this laugh. Loud, unfiltered, contagious. The kind of laugh that made you forget everything was falling apart at home.

He never noticed me—not really. I was just that guy who doodled on everything: the corner of a worksheet, the back of a test paper, my arm when I ran out of space.

And for two years, I stayed in the background. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know what else to do. When your life is a bit of a mess—parents barely talking, dinner being more of a silent war than a meal—you kind of just try to survive. Love wasn’t something I thought I deserved. Especially not from someone like Elias.

But then came Foundation Week.

We got grouped together to design the stage backdrop for the closing ceremony. He was the committee head—of course. I was just the assigned artist. And that was when he really looked at me for the first time.

“Hey,” he said, all sunshine and mischief, “You’re Aio, right? I’ve seen your sketches. You’re kinda insane—in the good way.”

No one had ever complimented my art like that. Not with that much raw, glowing belief.

I shrugged. “Thanks.”

He smiled like I had just given him a cupcake. “Can I see your sketchbook?”

I hesitated, but handed it over. He flipped through it with awe in his eyes, gasping at every other page. I never realized someone could make you feel seen by just looking at your drawings.

From that day, we started working together every afternoon. He’d bring snacks and ideas, and I’d translate them into brush strokes and color palettes. He’d talk—nonstop—and I’d listen, sometimes sketching the curve of his smile when he got too caught up in a story.

I found out he loved cats, used mint shampoo, and cried while watching Your Name. He called me “Picasso” when I was in the zone and once rested his head on my shoulder while we painted banners on the gym floor.

I think I stopped breathing then.

One time, it rained so hard we were stuck in school past six. We sat under the covered court, watching the world blur behind water. He told me he envied how calm I always seemed.

“If I were like you, I wouldn’t overthink everything,” he said, hugging his knees. “But you... You just are. Like a still lake. It’s nice.”

I wanted to say, No, Elias. I’m not calm. I’m screaming inside. Because you’re here. Because you’re perfect. Because I’m in love with you and you’ll never know.

But I just replied, “You’re not that bad either.”

He laughed. “Aio, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I think I’m gonna cry.”

We both laughed that time.

—

The day of the closing ceremony, he gave me a sunflower.

“Because you’re like one,” he said. “You brighten things up without trying. Even if you pretend you don’t care.”

I looked at him—really looked. His stupidly soft eyes, the scar on his chin from a biking accident, the way his fingers fidgeted like he was nervous.

I almost said it. I swear.

But my phone buzzed.

Another fight at home.

I backed away. Smiled. Told him, “Thanks, Elias.”

That night, I cried while staring at the sunflower pressed between the pages of my sketchbook.

—

We’re in twelfth grade now. We still talk. Still laugh. Still paint banners and walk home under the same orange skies.

I haven’t told him. Not yet.

But someday, when I finally believe I deserve something good—when I finally believe I’m enough—I will.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll smile that sunflower smile and say,
“What took you so long, Picasso?”

💛 Notes from the Author:

This is for anyone who’s loved in silence, who’s waiting for the right time. Sometimes, feelings grow quietly—but deeply. And love, the kind that stays for years, is always worth telling someday. 🌻

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Want more soft boy love stories like this? Stay tuned. 🌙
Drop a 🌻 in the comments if Elias reminds you of someone.