text: Little did I know that fateful day I switched into a new class the beginning of the year at the very last minute, that I made a decision that allowed me to meet the person that would dominate the next part of my life. I saw you every day - you were in half of my classes - and I will never forget the fateful day we were partners in class for an assignment; the way your eyes locked onto mine as you spoke to me with your faint southern-belle accent as we introduced ourselves and I learned the basics: major, name, hometown, goals. Your eyes were like a ray-gun, and there I was, caught in the tractor-beam. Those very same eyes would glimpse into me every day as we made it a routine to walk back from class to get coffee. And while we used to say we would spend less than half an hour chatting, before we knew it, it would be past an hour and we would wrap up the conversation, the both of late to our next class. We would profusely apologize, hurriedly exchange a last fleeting look, and be on our way, only to see each other at night, studying together, entertaining each other’s days, and trading life stories. The first time... *The rain increased its tempo, seeming to mirror the pitter patter of my racing heart, as you complained about how you couldn’t wait to leave the city and move to the countryside of Europe. I responded, having debated this endlessly with you whenever the weather was unfavorable, with the fact that the weather patterns were about identical, with the notable exception being the snow you so much adored. You gave a defeated and disgruntled sigh as we resumed basking in the hypnotic rainfall. I shivered as a brief gust of arctic wind blew through my open coat, out of place on this otherwise lukewarm autumn day.* Not too soon after that very autumn day I asked you out on our first date - we didn’t use that term, out of fear or out of naivety, but that is what it was - we had just finished working on our homework together when I asked if you had any plans and if you would want to be a part of mine. I wish you could’ve seen your face; you were so excited you nearly jumped out of your seat. In the traditional college student manner, we ended up getting fast food, ice cream, and stargazing, all during the first freeze-snap of the autumn. Every step we took, you complained about the weather and how you wished you were anywhere but here, but the comments dissipated as I ‘lent’ you my flannel shirt. With the crowded twinkling sky as my witness, I even think by the end of the night, I got you to admit you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, in this moment, with- *A crashing thunderous clap emerged from the sky as the rain briefly lessened, bringing me back to reality - the reality of the situation. You were shivering, and I offered you my coat, not more than an afterthought before I departed my dorm, wearing it preemptively due to the overcast skies earlier. You used to joke about our contrasting clothing choices, with my muted and dark wardrobe juxtaposing your vibrant and colorful options. At this moment, you refrain as you cover up the brightly colored dress with the drab grey of my coat as you blended in with grey surrounding us. Despite the warmth my coat offered, I could see you struggle to warm yourself up as you blew into your hands. As I took your hands in my own in a futile attempt against the dropping temperatures and disappearing sun, I found myself remarking upon the softness of your hands compared to the calloused of my own. When was the last time I held your hand?* You hated public displays of affection, we both used to joke about how cheesy they were, out of place in the 21st century and a remnant from a simpler time. That was until we started doing them. And I won’t forget the first time you held my hand. I almost thought it was by accident, our hands were at our sides, and they found each other in the dark, walking back to our dorms. I could feel you stiffen up as I fit your hand into my palm and as we walked side by side, unafraid of those critics we once were, assessing us, just as we had done once before to others. Later you would tell me you were surprised that given all that I do, my hands were still soft; hands that did not seem to do laborious work, that did not have a hard life. You were self-conscious about your hands, with remnants of still-active callouses and eczema visible through touch and sight, and the history they represent. “You’re too soft”, you used to say whenever I used to complain about my minor inconveniences from the day, the rude comments I got, the person who shoved me in line, as I lay on your bedroom floor. Your kind words and love used to rebuild me from the days I had, from the loss of friends to family members, to failing in my endeavors and dreams. With you by my side, I never found the need to embrace tougher skin, you were there to heal my minor scrapes. As you told me your deepest and darkest secrets, from your troubled childhood and upbringing, to the horrors you had to deal with in high school and college, to the demons you still face to this day and the therapy you have yet to finish, you realized I was not as soft as you made me out to be or as I seemed, listening to your every word. I had faced my fair share of trauma, some of which haunt me to this day, and I related to you. “I know how you feel,” I used to say. These hands are not the same hands you remember. I try to remove my callouses to preserve the softness from a time past, but those callouses protect me from future injury. My hands have had to grow tougher to accommodate the changing demands of my life, the life I have had to live after you. *The wind proceeded to ramp up in intensity as a piercing splash of icy rain hit me in the face, taking me out of my thoughts. I for a moment lost the dialogue I was having internally, and I noticed you were transfixed on the growing river of runoff from the storm, creating murky brown streams running in front of us, carrying foreign matter, debris, and trash from elsewhere to our feet.* *It seems like we found each other, by luck, or by the changing tides of life. But despite this, you know that we weren’t perfect for each other. We have our differences, our conflicts, and our human disagreements. After all, then how could I explain the next semester any other way?* Our differences used to drive us apart, and we used to try to make it work despite the odds. We used to talk, but not listen, applying small patches to gaping holes. For some periods of time, these temporary band-aids used to work, and we would be happy. Gradually, those band aids ripped and revealed raw skin, sensitive, and fragile. We did this until you gave up. I held on hope longer, but I too, lost hope. *You’re looking at me now. I see your lips part as you look at me with those eyes. I hadn’t seen that look since we were in love all that while ago.* But then, how could I explain the next autumn, this autumn? I hadn’t spoken to you in months; the summer months were a reprieve. We hadn’t seen each other in longer, the last weeks of spring classes were cordial at best. But it was a like a day hadn’t passed as we resumed the rhythm we had done for so long. I missed you. And you missed me. Those conversations we had, they came without the arguments that followed and we were content. Finally, a relationship we felt could last the test of time. Ultimately, all good things come to an end, and our insecurities came out, and resulted in an argument to end all arguments, fueled by months of stability and lack of disagreement, that came as a product of the turmoil from earlier. We couldn’t erase the past, it was fundamental to our growth. We both are not the same people we once were. *Your mouth was moving, and I saw the development of a mischievous and peculiar smile. For a brief second, I forgot the past, and I wanted nothing more to pretend that our future was now. As the wind increased its ferocity, I failed to listen as you struggle to speak, and I moved closer, forming a barrier between you and the wind.* We tried. We did everything to make things work. I remember spending nights in your bed, convincing you to not lose hope for a better tomorrow as we used to contemplate the future after our arguments. Our vortex of emotions carried us this far, why give up? I never actually gave up. *As the rain reached a crescendo, and the distance between us closed in an instant, the lightning illuminated us as a decision had to be made or a crisis to be averted. I pause as your eyes begin to shut.* Our first kiss was under Andromeda’s twinkling glance. I remember seeing her starry eye wink as I leaned in on that cold autumn day and formed a connection that changed my life. *How did I get here?* It would have been a little over a year since you entered my life. *Is this what I want?* I knew it from the day we locked eyes, you’re worth it. I can feel your warm breath permeate the space between our faces. I remember squirming late at night due to the tickle of your breath on my face and neck. Is this what you want? You were hesitant in the beginning to say we were dating - I wore my heart on my sleeve, but you had it deep down, locked in your chest. But I possessed the key, and we had a good run while it lasted. I still have the key. *In the heat of the moment, anything could happen.* The spontaneity which led to us meeting in class, developing a relationship, and saying hurtful things all were due to the heat of the moment - this moment. *What do I do? I felt like I was drowning in the ocean of my emotions and memories, the history between us rivaling that of Antonius and Cleopatra.* Late at night, lying in bed, we used to talk about the future. Even before you told me you loved me, and that you haven’t said those words out loud to anyone before, we had already planned our future. *I fell in love with you all over again. You saw it in my eyes, and I saw that you never stopped. I felt your heart pound in my own, as I struggled to make my decision.* I remember early into our relationship we promised that no matter what, we would never leave each other’s lives. You later made me reaffirm that iron clad commitment. We were the keystone in each other’s lives, essential, unique, replaceable, but it just wouldn’t be the same with anyone else. *I love you.* I love you. *You love me.* You love me.