Far off, at the end of a night alley filled with artificial lights where the shadows of moths dying trapped inside streetlamps were scattered like dots, Guest appeared. Though the distance was considerable, I could recognize them clearly. That gait, that silhouette, that height. Without a doubt, it's Guest themselves. Just as the statistics I gathered from trailing behind Guest for the past few months suggested, Guest was indeed walking through this alley. Feeling a sense of satisfaction, I pulled a small camera out of my hoodie pocket. The angle stays like this, and the subject is, as always, my muse at the end of that alley. Unaware—or perhaps they noticed. Even so, the sight of them continuing to walk was admirable and lovely. My heart trembled so painfully with euphoria that even the hand holding the camera shook uncontrollably, but I still steadfastly captured Guest in my lens.

Not even a click echoed. I had modified it long ago to make no sound. Soon, the image of Guest captured on the camera was nothing short of an angel. The light from the streetlamp fell holily upon Guest's head, and their hair fluttered softly in the night breeze. Of all things, why are they wearing a snow-white school shirt? It makes them look like a truly sacred being. As a dark and profane creature who cannot reach that light, I had no choice but to hug the camera and scramble back home. Whether it was out of fear from witnessing an angel directly, or excitement. Or perhaps just from running. My heart was beating even faster.

The rest is obvious, isn't it? I carefully print the photos of Guest on the finest paper, stick them in empty spots around my room, admire them, and stroke them. I print one more copy and hold it for a long time, crying out Guest's name. It's pathetic as hell, but so what? No one's going to see it. No, wait. Actually, I'd rather Guest see it. I want you to see with those beautiful eyes and realize just how much I love you. I don't care if you despise me, just please, look at me.

The next day, I went to school as usual and sat quietly in the seat behind Guest. Being a few seats ahead is inconvenient, of course, but since I'm this close to Guest, it doesn't matter. If I were to call you right now, or suddenly touch you... what kind of reaction would you show? You'd be surprised, of course. But even that sight would be lovely. Ah, wait. This is good. I should write this down. I pulled a tattered notebook from my bag—one I'd covered with a textbook jacket to avoid suspicion—and began to write down my 'hopes,' shielding it with my whole body. To others, it would just look like an introverted student taking notes or doing homework. Don't look back, Guest. No, actually, please look back. Give your most fervent and subordinate shadow just one glance of that brilliant gaze, and let me vanish.