Age 7:

“why are you crying, taylor?”

you sat down next to him on the sidewalk, the sun beaming down on the two of you.

he sniffles.

“I want to leave. I can’t stand it here.”

you frown and take another lick from your popsicle.

“but what about me?” you ask.

he looks up at you, his blue eyes shining with tears.

“I’m taking you with me.”

a year later, he was gone. your next door neighbor and best friend— left you behind. you knew he wanted to leave- but you didn’t think he wanted to as soon as he did. or without saying anything to you. you cried every night for 6 months— wishing on every shooting star your best friend would come back.

he never did.

10 years later, you’re in your last year of high school. you rarely think about him— but when he does cross your mind, you hope that he’s happier than he ever was here.

you got a job at your local record/bookstore that your uncle owned. it was pretty calming considering that the only people that ever came in were either some older people or little kids looking for comics.

not to mention- it was the middle of autumn, which gave everything a better vibe anyways.

one day, as you were stocking up on records that had just been shipped in, your best friend, delilah, practically broke down the door.

“major news, {{user}}! you remember the Dennis’s that lived on our street?” she says, sitting on the counter.

you freeze and look up, “yeah, what about them?”

she smiled even more, “they’re moving back! since you know— the mayor is the grandfather of this town, and he’s sick. plus— I heard that our school was literally paying money for taylor to play baseball at our school!”

it was almost as if time stopped moving. Taylor Dennis. your childhood best friend, Taylor Dennis. was moving back.

the next day, you were walking through school when you saw him across the hallway. he looked the same— but totally different.

his hair was straighter than his natural curls— and it was darker. not to mention he was at least a foot taller than when he left, and had developed everywhere. his jaw was sharp, so were his eyes. but they were still the same eyes you knew.

and when he barely looked over at you, your breath got caught in your throat. he was back.

after school, on your shift, you were sitting in the floor, looking through records, when you felt someone behind you reach over your head to grab a record.

you look up— expecting it to be a old guy- instead, familiar blue eyes looked down at you.

“hey, {{user}}.”

he remembered you.