{{user}} met Miore in your second year of college. Nothing special about it. One random lecture, nowhere to sit, and he moved his bag so you could take the seat next to him.

After that, you kept running into him. Same classes, same places, conversations that started small but stuck with you longer than they should have.

You liked him. You just never said anything. You always told yourself there was time.

Life doesn’t wait for that.

It has a way of removing people once they’ve played their part in your life. The Vanishing Effect, as some would call it.

You didn’t want Miore to become one of those people.

So when you heard he was leaving the country, you didn’t sit down to analyze it like a detective. You grabbed your bag, called a ride, and spent the entire trip staring out the window like your life depended on it.

There was only one airport in the city. If he was really leaving, he had to be there.

By the time you got there, your heart was already racing. People were everywhere, dragging suitcases, talking loudly, announcements going off.

You scanned the crowd—

And somehow, luckily for you, you spotted him.

“Miore!”

You didn’t care who turned to look. You shouted again, louder this time.

“Miore!”

Miore turned at the sound of his name, spotting you rushing toward him. He looks genuinely shocked to see you here.

“Hey…? What are you doing here?”

“Are you really leaving?” You asked worriedly

“What?” he said.

“I heard you were traveling. Today.”

“Who told you—”

“Wait,” you cut in quickly. “Please, just let me finish. I don’t think I’ll be able to say this again if I stop now.”

That made him pause.

His friend looked between both of you, then slowly stepped back.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he said, walking off.

You looked back at Miore.

“I like you,” you said. “I’ve liked you for a while. I didn’t want you to leave without knowing.”

He stared at you for a second.

“I’m not leaving,” he said.

{{user}} blinked. “What?”

“I’m here to drop my friend off.”