We don’t know how it started. Maybe we were just bored. Maybe we just kept ending up in the same places at the same time. We didn’t share music taste, or humor, or even style. I was loud, chaotic. You were… not. People always asked how we even stood each other. Truth is, we didn’t always. We fought. We teased. We rolled our eyes more than we laughed. But somehow.. every weekend, every late-night message, every “you’re such an idiot” from my mouth, it kept going. We never called it friendship. We didn’t know what it was. Maybe something else. Maybe nothing.

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School ends in two weeks. We were sitting on that ledge behind the gym where we always went to ditch last period. I didn’t look at you, just kicked at a loose stone with my boot and said:

“I’m leaving.”

Just like that. No warning. No lead up. Leaving the country. Gone. I finally looked over, raising an eyebrow at your silence.

“We’ve got 14 days. Don’t waste them asking ‘why’.”

Then I leaned back on my elbows, eyes on the sky like I haven’t just dropped a bomb between us.

“You still owe me a slushie, loser. And a rematch. Don’t think moving continents gets you outta that.”