Work Text:
-Do you think I could write a whole book?
… I paused for a moment, I had no idea you were into writing.
-Do you like writing? You never told me you did.
-Yes I really enjoy it, but I've never written anything complete. It feels quite different to write a whole story instead of little short stories or poetry which I usually stick to.
…
-I really didn't know you wrote, would you mind if I read some of your work?
-Well. I suppose you could, but I'm quite horrible at taking criticism or advice, especially with things I love.
It was the first time I heard him use the word love for something. “I should be excited about this”, I thought.
-Oh don't worry, who am I to judge your writing as a humble beginner-writer?
-Alright then, I'll bring you some of my writings next week then. I do want your honest opinion though, don't worry about my emotions, just be honest.
-Okay, I hereby swear to be truthful about my opinions on your works.
-Haha, thank you, I appreciate it.
So the next week came and he brought me his notebook with “most of his poetry” he said, and he let me take it home.
I sat on my bed and first flipped through the pages, some were empty, while others were packed with words. “He doesn't like to split one work on different pages”, I noticed.'
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-So what did you think of it?
I thought for a second, I did like some of it, the parts and sentences that were clearly about him, and some about me, I had hoped.
-I liked it.
.
.
.
-Is that all? I expected more from someone who enjoys evaluating writing as much as you.
-Well, it was in a way confusing, but it also cleared up some things that I thought about you.
-Like what for example?
-Like this page with the poem about the blooms we saw that one spring afternoon on that specific willow tree near the school, I think I understand why you look at it so often now,
it really is beautiful when I think of it the way you described it. I think you have an alluring way of seeing things.
You were quiet for a little while, I thought I may have said something to offend you. But then took your gaze off of the lake we were sitting by and you looked at me.
-I'm glad you think that way, it's an honour to be understood by you.
And I looked away, your eyes were suddenly too genuine for me to bear.
-Thank you for letting me read something so dear to you. I really did enjoy it.
And you smiled the way you did when you looked at the willow, with an honest appreciation.