I know he has feelings for me. I can feel them resonate through our bond when he lets his shields slip. I know he is waiting to approach me. Waiting until he is older. Waiting until he reaches his age of majority.
Why would he want me? I am more than twice his age. I am too old. I am set in my ways. He is young. Vibrant. He has his whole future ahead of him. It doesn't matter that he makes my heart sing when he smiles. It doesn't matter that he fills me with desire just by walking through the room. I am still too old for him.
I'm too young. I know that's what he'd tell me if I revealed my feelings for him. But I don't feel too young. What I feel is not what a child would feel.
A child doesn't feel the overwhelming surge of love as I watch him do the simplest of things.
A child doesn't feel the throb of desire as I watch him performing a Kata with sweat dripping from his forehead and adding to the gloss of his bare skin or as he walks into the fresher uncaring about his nudity.
No a child does not feel those things. Can not feel them. But I do.