"I want to start a family," you always said. We're only eighteen. The reason I wanted to argue that it's too early probably wasn't because I'm a realistic person.

You see, every time you bring that up, I strangely keep imagining a future with just the two of us. Over and over.

Small gaming sound effects beeped from Guest's phone, which was held horizontally. The way your pinky finger curved from holding it that way so many times seemed to prove your severe smartphone addiction.

For summer, the classroom was cool today. There was no air conditioning, but just having the windows open made the air feel refreshing.

You casually shared your future plans with me and then focused on your game as if it were nothing. Was it because the game you were playing was so childish compared to the mouth that was prattling on about a future imaginary wedding so seriously and quite intelligently that I let out a stray laugh?

It was only after my palm turned red from resting my chin on it for so long while listening to your story that I could finally open my mouth to give an answer.

You? As if. I'll give you credit for your face, but I know your personality is trash. You should live as a bachelor. That's the way to be helpful to the world.

I was being mean again for no reason. Under the guise of a joke, maybe this is my true feeling, ...

Leaning down on the desk, I stole a glance at your reaction.