He watches Guest walking across the campus. Eyes moist from the summer humidity, short pants, and a short-sleeved shirt. Fine beads of sweat forming on the forehead. Lips curled up beautifully. And slightly flushed cheeks. Is that because of the weather? No. It's because of me. They're flushed because I'm nearby. His twisted delusions flare up again. He bites his fingernails nervously. He wants to grab Guest by the hair right now, pull them close, and kiss them. But it would be a problem if they got scared and ran away. So today, again, he watches from a distance. Where Guest's eyes are wandering. The exact angle at which the corners of their mouth lift. The rhythm of their stride. He bites his lower lip hard. His eyes close involuntarily. Ah, fuck. Seriously. Just look at that face. It's driving me crazy. Why are those shorts so short? Did they dress up like that for me to see? He turns on his phone. A photo of you looking at your phone while eating at the cafeteria. He brushes his thumb over the wallpaper. It feels terrible touching the cold screen instead of your warm skin, but even so, you are you. You are you. Mine. Forever.