Platonic Love

“And those who only know the non-platonic love have no need to talk of tragedy. In such love there can be no sort of tragedy.”

—Leo Tolstoy—

Here we go again with the load of shit Mr. Hong was giving at the front of the class. Religion, good deeds, and the afterlife or whatever he was talking about had no relation to today’s subject: philosophical theory. What was the point of telling the whole class that we would go straight to hell if we didn’t go to church or showed too much skin? What was he actually thinking when he spilled all that out on the table? There was no guarantee we would listen even a bit to his unnecessary speech. He should have just told us straight about Confucius, Plato, Socrates, or other philosophers—or the content of philosophy itself. We were already tired of listening to his 90-minute crap every week. Having an exam as the wrap-up for his class would even be better.

The only thing I liked about this class was the location of the room; it was very strategic because it was right beside the Law Faculty. From the third floor—the floor where I was every Thursday evening—I could see that very special person from the Law Faculty. Usually, I took the seat nearest the window just so I could put all my focus on watching the people outside, hoping to see him with a heart full of blossoming flowers. That day was the same—still wishing to see the man I had my eyes on for the whole two years. The apple of my eye, Y/n.

The very first time I saw Y/n was during our medical check-up that was randomly held for all students from every major. I was the earliest to arrive, a bit grumpy because I woke up so early only to find out that the other students were still very calm and late. I had to wait longer, feel more bored, and sit for hours that made my ass feel like crap. I was in the middle of an imaginary transaction with the devil in my head when Y/n entered the room so gracefully. He looked like a super handsome angel—I couldn’t believe I had the chance to see him in person like that. Most importantly, and probably the craziest part too, was the fact that we sat next to each other, so I could easily read the name on his document folder: Y/n. I repeated that name several times before the realization that I was now a college student hit me like a drum.

Not long after, as if God was kind enough to want us to unite, I met Y/n again during our orientation day. Again, we sat next to each other. He didn’t recognize me, of course, but this crazy Karina could easily sense his presence because she had been focusing on him for a while. His existence mesmerized me—drove me into madness and, without me realizing it, led me to fall deeply into his charm. I didn’t know what to call it, but all the accidental encounters we had over the years convinced me that I just couldn’t simply give up on him. I might be in love, or just obsessed with the guy who looked so charming with his beautiful smile, godly voice, and top-tier social skills. All those thoughts made me confused and scared at the same time.

The first time I had a conversation with him was through DM when I told him about the dog food he dropped in front of the bus stop. The second was the finest and sweetest because he remembered my name plus all the DM stuff we had talked about exactly a year before. After years of admiring him, I finally had the chance to know him in person because my good friend—who happened to be one of his friends too—introduced us to each other. That was the first time I held his hand; the first time I realized he was a real person I could feel through touch. He definitely tried to attract some attention that time—obviously shown through the way he acted—he kept walking back and forth, making me gradually lose focus because of that handsome face of his. The third time was the shortest; he just waved at me and I waved back (it happened a month ago).

Sometimes we chatted with each other. But all I could tell was that the feeling wasn’t mutual. I felt like I was sending a bunch of messages to my idol and he would reply just once or twice. But it didn’t hurt me—crazy, I know—it’s a normal thing that happens to people with a one-sided crush. I flinched, then smiled lightly when my eyes caught Y/n walking with his friends (that beautiful social butterfly), probably heading to the cafeteria. I let out a sigh, pulled back to reality, and threw my focus back onto the class.

“Platonic love in its modern popular sense is an affectionate relationship into which the sexual element does not enter, especially in cases where one might easily assume otherwise,” said Mr. Hong—pretty obvious that he quoted that from some website.

But that wasn’t the thing I wanted to point out; it was about platonic love. All the feelings and adoration I had for Y/n would be more suitable to be identified as platonic love—I couldn’t agree more. Again, I let a smile slide across my face, closed off the daydream I had, and brought my senses back to the table.

—END—