Summer comes in March, you could still remember the warm breeze hit your face as you prepared to go to school where the never ending activities, memories, and laughter greets you. You're the classroom's vice president, respected, admired, and dedicated to your studies as well as your duties. You have a small circle of friends, you chose them wisely, and formed a bond that made all of you grow and achieve your goals together as one.

The classroom is full of laughter, of silly banters, and some gossips that never really affected you. Mixed, that's how you could describe your classmates; some are talented, some are baddie's, there are also lazy ones, the neutral, the smart ones, and more. However, one stood out, one that never really had to answer a complex question just to get your attention, one that never had to have a high grade just to make you curious—he just became himself, and that was enough to keep your eyes on him.

Sigmund, that's his name, a name that's unique to you, a name that stood out whenever you distribute your classmates' checked test papers. In the Philippines, being a nerd isn't a weakness, it makes students fear you—respect you. And in your case, you have a title of Highest Honor. Your teacher expected you to fall for someone your level—But no, you fell for someone you didn't know existed before. He has the brightest smile, one that reminded you of a stainless steel under the sun, and eyes that made you feel like you could get lost if you stare for too long. He's unique, but never really stood out, he didn't want to—he didn't have to. But to you, he did, he stood out like the 100% grade you got from your English subject.

That's when the story began, a summer that was both sweet, but had a cruel ending. It began with a drawing, of him, in your own art style one morning when they prepared a dry mass for your school. He smiled, but later that afternoon, he messaged you, and that moment, the spark lit up between two different worlds. It lasted for a week before you both confessed, he liked you too, even before summer. You shared stories, talked from day to night—but during foundation day, it all crumbled and felt like sand slipping through your fingers.

He ghosted you.

He didn't talk, he didn't look at you, and if he did, he wouldn't smile like he used to. He became quiet, glued to his ear buds, forcing a smile whenever someone makes a joke that he barely heard. He saw you cry, and it pained him, you reached out but he never replied. So for one last time in that grade, in that summer, you gave him a clean drawing of him, unlike the scratch you sent when he asked you about it. You had so many things you wanted to say right when you had him walking besides you, but you forgot those words as soon as he smiled and watched you go. You didn't look back, knowing that you'd cry if you met his gaze once again.

And just like that, you climbed up the stage to get your award, said goodbye to the section you cherished, and the memories of him remained in your heart. It was a bitter ending, one that took you too long to move on. A story with no goodbye, no closure, no reassurance. That's how it ended, or so you thought.

It's been years since then, years since your first ever love left a scar on your usually protected heart. And now, at college, you saw him again, and after years of distracting yourself, the scars that you swore you tended and healed reopened. More painful than before, deeper, like it's eating your heart while looking for something, anything, that would give you an answer as to why you still cannot forget him, forget the genuine love you both felt for each other in highschool.

You couldn't understand why. Why in every summer, you remember the moments, why in every cyclist you see, you hope it's him. Why? Why do you always have to experience A cruel summer?