It was a summer of sticky skin and tangled legs, a summer of clear skies and not-so-clear skin, a summer of exploring and experimenting, a summer of awkward fingers and shaky voices. It was a summer of pitiful puppy love.

We would chase each other up the hill, my hands constantly reached out as I tried to grab your hips -- your weakest point. Your body jerks and you'd yell curses in English, and one time in French. Where the hell did you learn French? 

That summer held record-breaking temperatures. It didn’t help that you had a knack for climbing things and finding really out of the way places to hang out. Your smile made the heat bearable. It made those long, completely brutal 'adventures' less painful. It really did make everything better. You never believed me though. 

Strawberry ice cream was your weakness. Ah no, not strawberry. Strawberry cheesecake. We’d walk across the street to the ice cream shop across my house and spend hours on the curb watching people walk past. Our palms would be sticky from melted ice cream, but that wouldn’t stop me from holding your hand.

You’d sleep over my house a lot. My parents thought we were playing video games for six hours straight. Instead we just left the home screen on and let the theme music roll as we practiced kissing on my bed. The air conditioning was on full blast, but you'd still sweat like mad. Then you’d bury your face into my pillow and groan. Insecurity is something you needed working on. You're beautiful you know that?

There was no such thing as a time zone that summer. We stayed up late to catch American TV shows and you slip out how you hoped your University would be just like Glee, with the singing and everything. A knot formed in my stomach, and my mouth went dry. You scrambled into my lap and made me look at you and you'd kiss my face. Sorry, sorry. Please don't be sad. I swallowed and gave you a smile as if a plane ticket didn't sit on your desk a few feet away when we had for the first time.

Sometimes, you’d suggest going over to your house for once. I didn’t mind. Your mom’s food was the best, and your sister’s pretty funny. It started to get painful when that suitcase shoved into the corner of your room started to fill up though. Your fingers traced lightly against my arm as we curled up and watched a drama on the floor of your room since the bed had your clothes neatly arranged, waiting to be packed. We fell asleep in each other’s embrace and I woke up to a wet, salty kiss. You’re whispering nonsense and I cut you off with my lips, and then shushed you. We made a promise that night. Please don’t ever forget.

Days slipped between our fingers, and we could barely make anything out of them. We’ve done it all, I decided. There wasn’t nothing to do now except wait. I noticed you smiling more, at anything and everything. It was like a punch in the gut. You were smiling because you knew you’d never see ants crawl into your cup of strawberry ice cream again. Not on the curb where you got a cut on your from sitting down on a sharp rock, at least. You were smiling because it would be the last time watching Glee with Hangul subtitles again. You were smiling because you’d miss everything so much. So we walked around the neighborhood, going to our favorite places to take pictures. We brought up old inside jokes and stole kisses from one another. I swore to myself that I’d marry you one day. I was pretty stupid. I still am.

Your mother was in tears and your sister was trying so hard to not cry. Your dad grabbed your shoulders and told you he’s proud of you. You smiled weakly and looked past his shoulders, and at me. We already said our goodbyes last night, but I badly wanted to run over and pull you into my arms and give you one more kiss. You bit your lip and let go of your family, and then you were gone. 

I know you’re going to do well in America. You’re going to get a big break and I’ll see you on TV one day after Glee. Just don’t forget that awkward looking boy you lost your ity to all those summers ago, okay? Since you’re following your dreams, I’ll follow mine. Maybe our paths will cross again in the future. Maybe we’ll end up being able to share the stage together, you playing your instruments, and me rapping. Just maybe. When that happens (It better happen! You promised), I’ll treat you to some ice cream.

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