3 Hero, Heroon and Heroin.

"You are...."

Yes, we say this in unison. But before I speak anything, he says:" you are my deskmate? Glad to see you are here. When the teacher announced that one of our classmates could not come to school on time because of an illness, my heart was a little shrinking. Anyway, welcome!" Simple words do a great job on me. I have to admit that he is the master to capture others' hearts. Fortunately, my brain doesn't stop working. During his talk, my focus is all on him and I am swallowing saliva from time to time. Uh, the latter doesn't matter. The importance is he is similar to someone. Who? Someone I ran into his chest impolitely forty minutes ago. It is really unfriendly meeting, and especially it is merely unfriendly to me. I thought to myself," One good turn deserves another. So does the bad. Maybe I'll be justice by him. What's more, the punishment must be the same as forty minutes ago----he would run into me. Hmmm, wait, the punishment is as I'd like. Imagine when his head comes closer, and I make a sound of sucking saliva. Yeah, never!"

Back to reality.

It seems that he didn't recognize me, the man who owns a strong desire to be punished.

Next, he opens his arms, intending to give me a hug to show his friendliness to me.

His baggy white shirt cannot show fit, getting tight when stretching the arms. The hem is rising while his belly is revealing, a wheat color given by the summer sun which shows his health, a few indistinct contours of abdominal muscle. "They are thinner than adults', but enough for me. " I thought.

While I observer him in secret, something dirty occurs to me, how did he do on the ▇▇▇(Shielding)?

God, no, I have called him too many times today. How about my lord? You know in my head a pile of saliva is sucking by me, making a loud noise this moment. I shake my head, struggling to empty these thoughts, looking his arms open inviting me to approach. As a matter of fact, I do.

He continues to say, "My name is Harri..." His voice is beautiful and warm like the sunshine shining in my soul.

But it's obvious that his name is not Harri. It's just the bell that rings. Attention please, it is the bell that rings when he wanted to give me a long-awaited hug. Although the long-awaited is about forty minutes. Nevertheless, do you know there is a theory of relativity in the world?

"Putting your hands on a hot stove for a minute, it seems like an hour. Siting with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's the relativity."------Einstein

Please highlight this sentence and underline it. That's how I feel right now.

Move on. As the bell rings, he stops talking and puts his school bag on the chair. Of course, he put his hands down and the hug transparently comes to an end. It's not my style to ask him for the hug. I can't help feeling an ounce of depression. Believe me, only an ounce.

He sits down and points inside my desk. I looked down at my desk. A pile of well-organized books greeted my eyes. It must be he did, for me. My lost heart exulted.

I imitate him and take a math book out. As long as I think this book was touched by his strong palm and watched by his eyes. My heart is pounding and the blood around my body seems to pour into my face together, turning it into a kind of red that means infatuation. So think about other distractions, how about his name? Harri, Harrie, Harrington or some others? Good job, my face finally calms down. Being calm is a necessary skill for me to strengthen. And the shit of the bell, the shit of my reaction and the most important shit of how he could be so charming, which can't be envied but can attract me more than much.

The teacher has entered our classroom, a woman who is in an essential little black dress. Her molten-red hair is draped over her shoulder, showing great charm. I suddenly find the fact that Harri▇▇▇ is looking at her with all his eyes. What's more, some lecherous and dirty expressions flicker on his face from time to time and then disappear. At least in my eyes, it is. Or, it must be this when something that belongs to you is taken away by others. Certainly, he doesn't belong to me. We even are not friends, just a nodding acquaintance. And a nodding acquaintance is also my wishful thinking.

All students are ready when I think about it. The teacher's voice pulls me back to reality. I begin to perform the duties of a student, study. My academic record has been good since childhood. Maybe it is the saying goes "When God closes a door for you, he will also lock it for you. To make matters worse, he closes the windows. You see the sunlight coming in from the outside." Fortunately, I'm the one who kicked that door open. Despite being absent for five days at school, the course is still very easy for me. She arranges a quiz. I spend five minutes finishing it and then I lie on the table, staring at him.

He is left-handed. His elbow, for the sake of writing, comes over my table. When his arm moves, the hairs on his arm, the thick veins and some simple muscle, all of them catch my eyes deeply.

Look up. His side face is strong and defined. His dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression, show how difficult the mathematical problems are. His lips are pursed. I can't help doing the same, swallowing saliva.

Bad habit should be changed. Inexplicable, stigma quickly floods me densely.

Problems from the bottom of my heart rise.

I really love or like him?

I judge a person and like him because of his appearance. Communicate no more than three sentences. See each other no more than twice. And one of two is not admitted by him. Love is imaginary and more than delicate. Am I a shallow person?

My thoughts have never been so confused. Why do these special and dirty feelings come up? Why the...

No one can answer.

Class bell rings again. It's also a long-awaited time.

I adjust myself. I take a deep breath. I calm down.

I ask his name. He answers, "Harrison". It doesn't occur to me. Yeah, Harrison, a good name matches me, before. He asks me the same problem. Different from him, I don't wanna. To avoid being impolite, I say, "Heron." It took me a second to come up with the name and took me another second to come up with the words, hero, heroon and heroin.

Actually, Heron is not three of them. But on the other hand it is these three words.

It's like the curses I do on myself. And they will actualize one by one.

You can be my hero in my life to brighten my unknown way. When the lights start flashing like the photo booth, we can sit on the top of the mountain seeing the stars explode. We can be best friends.

Nothing could destroy our friend except ourselves.

I know the hero will die, the star will put out and our relationship will rewrite. The heroon will be ready for the hero.

But you know you are more like the drug, heroin, touched my mouth and this life is difficult to quit.

We are destined to be infected with each other, this life must be together.

So before I totally fall for you, please keep away. The fake name is just the beginning. Hating me is no better.

After hearing my name, he bursts into laughter. And before I propose the question, something amazing he said out.

(Heroon(German):n. Temple tomb; Hall of Heroes. I see this word on some websites. Do not care. )