time never kills true love

no matter how fragile

human

h e a r t s

are

-januaryfebuarymarch.

January. The month in which I met you, and you met me. I still remember you walking in during homeroom on a seemingly normal day with your incandescent smile. Pearly whites framed with the sexiest lips alive. You were radiant. A tad bit shy at first, but radiant. Inside out, and outside in.

I also remember feeling kind of lucky when you were seated next to me and even luckier when you turned your head in my direction asking me for an eraser, and after that, my name.

I tell you, nowadays, that I was captivated by your indigo eyes, but we both know that it was really curiosity that got the best of me. I'd wanted to get to know the henna red haired girl with the incandescent, iridescent smile, desperate to find something kind of new in my boring fifteen-year old life.

And my blue eyes found you.

-aprilmayjune.

We became close friends.

We just seem to mesh well, you'd always tell me with that same old smile. Sometimes when I'm particularly bored, I remiscent on those cold winter mornings when you'd grab your retro trench coat and pink converse shoes, and we'd just prowl the town's alleyways for hours. Hayner, Pence, and sometimes even Olette would be there with us, and we'd just have a ball. You'd always searched for glittering bottle caps on the dirty pavement, and ask me to help pocket them for you. And I did. Every single time you asked.

And there were times when we tried studying together, but we always failed the tests anyway. That is, Hayner, Pence, and I did. You were always the star pupil of our class, on the principal's list, and teacher's pet. All that and a bag of chips.

I'd always be on my skateboard, rolling around town with you and the crew, getting mediocre grades, and completely unconcerned.

I was a yellow balloon drifting on a hazy cloud of you, falling for you ever so badly.

And I didn't even notice until tenth grade had ended.

-julyaugust.

Summer crept onto us as unexpectedly as you'd popped into our lives. I spent most of my summer that year sharing some private moments with you, and other times with everybody else. Everyday was filled with sunshine, and it still makes me laugh when I think about the time in which I tried to teach you how to skateboard in the shopping district. You were so frustrated when I tried to tell you to come off it, and go grab some sea salt ice cream. Everybody that passed by was staring at you while walking past, but you just kept on going at it and at it over and over again, muttering things that sounded like 'I can do this!' and 'perseverance'.

I remember a lot of other things too, but they're all safely stored in something called my mental scrapbook. Or at least that's what you call your memories.

But it wasn't all sugar sprinkles and lollipops, mind you. I started noticing my love for you more and more until I discovered in August that it was starting to get hard to face you while we were talking. You noticed how queer I was acting too, but ignored it. We still hung out every other afternoon, making little houses out of our ice cream bar sticks, planning future things to do together when we turned sixteen and that made me happy enough.

Nonetheless, nothing ever stays perfect. Especially for somebody like me.

But then again, who would've made the plot so twisted? The thought of you moving away before school started again never surfaced in my mind. Never.

-septemberoctober

The only clear thing I remember about you leaving that day is how w I felt when you got onto that train, knowing that you wouldn't be back in just a day or two.

We'd already exchanged good-byes, and I even let a few tears slip when you delicately pressed my old eraser back into my hands. But with a blink of an eye, you'd already had to board the train then, before I could say anything substantial.

I remember wanting to stop the train, heck, maybe even jump onto it the last minute. I also remember feeling alone for the first time during that year.

It was too late to tell you that I'd fallen in love with the girl that had pretty red hair.

Oh but there were letters, lots of them and a few long distance phone calls. We kept in touch on the regular, and I'd find a little white envelope with a heart sticker sealing it in my mailbox every two weeks or so. But it wasn't the same; it just didn't do it for me.

I could imagine your eyes lighting up at certain parts of your letters, you making a face at your new cafeteria lunch, and even that cute brown haired guy that you'd met. But it wasn't right.

I couldn't secretly sniff your strawberry shampoo, hear the sounds of your footsteps walking right beside me, or talk to somebody that understood me anytime I needed.

So most of your letters became papery pink shreds after I read them, torn all over my bedspread. The same fate happened to my letters a lot of the times to you, I'd spend hours writing just one letter. I'd had to make first drafts, proofread them for any dangerous three words, and make sure my printing was even legible.

By the end of October, I'd given up on the idea of having a happy ending with you.

-november

It was a quiet evening when I recall that particular day. So quiet that I hadn't expected you at my doorstep right after dinner.

Rendering me speechless, I'd stood in front of you, my right hand gripping onto the doorknob ever so tightly.

"I- I'm back."

Your voice was shaking with so much raw emotion that I swear my heart rate trebled.

"You're home."

And then it was all a big surreal blur, you throwing your luggage onto the steps, and running into my arms.

Your slender hands were around my neck, and your face buried in my shirt, whispering things about you being transferred back here, wanting to surprise me, and missing me so damn much. And I think I felt numb with something called happiness.

You were back home, and in my arms, and for once in my life…I…I felt like I didn't have to hold my breath.

And then you said it. Those three words that'd been locked inside my heart all along.

-december

That November evening was quite a while ago, yet still vivid and clear in my mind, and as I'm driving back home from work in my car. I think about our love story, and how it really would be a best seller if we published it.

I've just finished parking my car, and while I'm getting out I see you coming out of the front door with little Kiyori in tow. Incandescent smile still in place, and indigo eyes still glittering. Your loving hands stretch out to rearrange my tie.

"I'm back." I say, gently taking her hands away from my tie, and holding them in my own.

"You're home."

kairi, I think

this is our

happy

e n d i n g

Written for Loren's challenge.
Inspired by a poem I wrote.
MONTHS OF THE Y E A R.