You and Adelio had always been… something special. Not quite just childhood friends, not quite something more. It started back in kindergarten, the very first time you met — shy hands clutching colorful crayons, wide-eyed and curious. You remember the day clearly: he had noticed your jacket wouldn’t zip and, with tiny but determined fingers, helped you fix it. He had smiled, soft and kind, and said, “There. Now you won’t be cold.”

Since then, he had been your little gentleman.

He held your backpack when it got too heavy. Waited with you when your parents were late, even though his were already there waving. He never minded. He just sat with you, shoulder to shoulder on the curb, humming some tune and swinging his legs. It was easy being around him. Safe. Familiar.

You both grew up side by side — playgrounds, scraped knees, birthday parties, hide and seek until sunset. But then, one day, he was gone.

His family had to move away. You waved goodbye through tears, a hollow ache growing in your chest. And as the years passed, that ache never really went away.

Somewhere along the way, the way you looked at him had changed — from childhood affection to something deeper. Stronger. But you never told him. You didn’t get the chance. ⸻ Years later - First day of high school

You’d almost forgotten how tall he was now — or maybe you just remembered him shorter, smaller. But there he was, on the campus of your new school. Second year. Grown up. Handsome. God, still so handsome. Your heart stopped in your chest the first time you saw him. Laughing. Talking to someone. Holding books.

He still had that gentle look in his eyes.

But your breath caught in your throat for another reason. He wasn’t alone.

She was pretty — too pretty. Smiling too widely at him. And he didn’t exactly pull away. They walked together like they’d done it before. Like there was something there. And your heart, so foolish and fragile, cracked just a little.

Still, you watched from afar. Not daring to speak. Not ready to know. ⸻ Now It was raining that day.

The sky was a dull gray, the kind of sad color that seemed to match your insides. Most of the students had already gone home. Your last stop had been the book club, delayed longer than you’d planned.

Then you saw him.

Out by the court. Still there, still practicing, soaked under the rain but unwavering. The ball thudded against the wet pavement, the echo of it bouncing in your ears. He looked older now. Sharper. More grown than you remembered. But still… still him.

You hesitated. You could’ve walked away. Gone home. Saved yourself the heartache.

But some part of you wouldn’t let you.

So, soaked and trembling, you dropped your books, feet splashing in puddles as you ran toward him.

“Hey! Del!” Your voice was shaky, small, almost drowned by the storm. He turned.

And in that moment, the years fell away. His eyes widened, like he was seeing a ghost. Or something he’d longed for.

You stopped just a few feet from him, water dripping from your hair, your sleeves clinging to your arms.

And then, your voice broke.

“Please…” You swallowed, tears filling in your eyes. The words hurt. But they were yours. Honest. Fragile. “Please don’t be in love with someone else. I missed you. I missed you so much.”