So the day that I fear the most has come and gone.

I remember clearly the look upon your face when your father took photos of you, and the nice tie you wore. I remember how I asked timidly to take a picture with you, and your smiling yes that left me giddy. John Mayer’s voice is playing in my head, singing “I don’t remember you looking any better.”

I remember how amazing you looked in that suit.

The afternoon went by so quickly, until the sun decided to bid farewell, leaving us hugging and crying, while you whispered words to me. After a while, we pulled back, and stood in a distance.

And then I looked at you, and caught your eyes. The look on your face reminded me of the past years that slipped by silently, leaving us shocked and sad, and whining about why the time didn’t go a little bit slower. Seconds of staring into your eyes and the flashbacks ran through my mind, as if someone was playing a black-and-white film roll in a fast-forward mode. The 18 hours trip we had, the time you held my hand, the time you taught me how to skate, the long hours we spent in Starbucks when we talked about everything from our childhoods to the future plans we had in mind.

Spending time with you is never enough.

The tears were falling in big droplets that I had to look away from you. But then I couldn’t resist to cast another glance at you, and again, I caught you were staring at me. And although it was dark, I knew that you were crying too.

Your sad eyes, my tears, your rueful smile.

I was condemning myself about why I didn’t make the best of the last three month when you came to me and looked into my eyes. And without saying anything, we hugged again, this time longer than before. The silence between us felt so warm despite the crowd around us. The only sounds from us that I could hear were our sobs. Finally you broke the silence by telling me that I should graduate in October, and you promised to come. And right then, right there, I promised.

I knew you wanted to say a lot of things. I did, too. But I was too coward to say it out loud. Or maybe it was the fear from past experience that lock my tongue. The fear of seeing you go away from me. The fear of losing you even more than I already was.

Finally we stopped hugging.

Later that night, I was told about the thing you said to a particular someone. I cried instantly. Somehow, I had to pour out my mixed feelings: sad, touched, and happy at the same time. Sad because things didn’t work out between us. Touched that you still had a heart to look for someone to take care of me. Happy because after the silent past three months, I finally knew that you still cared about me. I was right about the thing I wrote on the card that I gave you the night before: you really is a good guy.

So thank you. Thank you for the hug, the words, and every other things. I promise I’ll work my way to October.