And out of everyone I've met, it's you I can't forget.

Fourteen

"I think it's stupid, you know?" you say as you point towards the 'I Heart you' stenciled on the shirt hanging by the window of the store. He walks by you and eyes the black tee on the mannequin. You've been walking around the mall for an hour, eating the Frosty from Wendy's.

"What is?" he asks and you cock your head to the side.

"The heart is just a mere muscle, pumping blood for the body. It has nothing to do with emotions. Well nothing on its own accord, to be exact. The brain is the one responsible most especially the hypothalamus. And by God, the heart does not break."

"How do you know this stuff?" You hear and you explain how you've read it through a book about Physiological Psychology from the library.

He laughs and he puts his arm over your shoulder. "You know sometimes, you're too smart for your age. I'm a year older than you are yet you know more things than half our class combined. And besides," he pauses and leans down to eat the Frosty you scooped on the spoon, "it's not very poetic when you say 'I brain you', is it?"

You frown and roll your eyes but couldn't stop the smile that's creeping up your face. He's getting used to this, you think. You ponder on how he gets away with things just coz he's him and he's your best friend for a year yet it feels like you've known each other for the longest time. Or maybe you're just deluding yourself.

Fifteen

You enter your bedroom and don't bother to open the light, just throwing your bag down and kicking off your Hush Puppies, flinging your body on the bed, facedown on your pillow.

"Bad day?" his voice floated towards the room and you reply with a muffled groan. You're not surprised that he's in your room. He's been climbing through your window since the tree that's between yours and his grew tall enough to be a bridge.

You feel the bed shift and sense the weight on your right. You know that his fingers are entwined behind his head and you automatically snuggle closer to him, enjoying the warmth his body is giving off.

"What happened earlier? I saw you and Kristen, she…"

You groan again, wanting to rip off the girl's platinum blonde hair just for existing. You've never hated someone so bad before. And it scares you that the reason you're like this is not really the accidental mistake she did on the project you were partnered for but the fact that you're jealous and you're insecure. She's his girlfriend and you're just the best friend and the worst part is no one knows about it because you both agreed that keeping it quiet would be better.

By now you're using his arm as your pillow, your nose buried on the side of his chest, your arm draped across his torso and your left leg in between his. You're soaking yourself with his scent and you wonder how it is that he could smell like he's always just showered. You contemplate to yourself when you've sunken to the cliché of best friends falling for their best friends and/or the star soccer athlete being secretly best friends with the school's biggest nerd but you never come up with a proper date and time.

Sometimes you wonder how it'd be like when you finally admit to him the things you're feeling. And then you grow scared. The what-ifs playing like orchestra inside your head and the climactic part would be the possible ending of your friendship. So you decide to keep it in yourself. Better friends than nothing.

Sixteen

"What do you think I should wear?" he asks as you look up from his kitchen counter. His mother and father are out and you two have got their flat by yourselves. You're munching on some pop tarts and he's getting ready for his date with the new girl Caitlin. You shrug and sat quietly, thinking of the countless times he's asked you the very same question before. How his night always ends up with him calling you around two in the morning. 'She's not the right one,' he says and you agree and console him. 'You'll find someone worthy,' is always your reply. You want to ask him to slow down. You know he's been stressing on finding the perfect girlfriend and he's been dating nonstop for the past six months.

"Come on, love. A little help, please?"

You find yourself between the grid of smiling and scowling again. He still knows how to get away with it. You hate it when someone calls you sweet names and you always run away from those who try but somehow when he says it, you find it cute.

"That green shirt I bought you the other day, it brings out the greenness of your eyes. And the pants we shopped in Levi's." You say out loud remembering the ice cream that you shared that afternoon. You imagine how he dates a girl. Is it like your weekly Friday movie night? Popcorn over-showered with cheese powder, some Coke, watching till you can't anymore and finding your head on his chest, you, practically on top of him, his left hand placed on the small of your back and his right arm hanging on the edge of the couch, fingers nearly touching the floor.

Better friends than nothing, still echoes in your mind.

Seventeen

"The heart is just a muscle, so technically this isn't right,"

You hear his voice and hear his words and you freeze from where you're standing. He was a few steps away from you and you can see him crumpling a paper in his fist. He was talking to Kristen who was looking at him oddly. And you hide yourself from view behind your open locker door.

"What?"

"You wrote 'I' and drew a 'Heart' and penned a 'You', it's scientifically wrong. The heart doesn't feel. It beats the way the brain commands it to. So in truth, the heart doesn't do the loving,"

You hear Kristen giggle, "And since when are you concerned with these things?" she asks. "Who told you about that anyway? I mean, you don't read so it's not from the books."

As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself waiting for his answer. Will he tell her the truth? Will their friendship be finally known? You've talked about it before and you told him that it's alright for you if your friendship would be shown. You say that it's getting hard for you to pretend and you remember the day he won the soccer championship yesterday. You remember running towards him, completely forgetting the secrecy of it all and finding yourself flinging your arms around him. You remember him pushing you away with strength, him saying "Ger' off me", you looking at him incredulously, hurt showing in your eyes. You remember the way he didn't even look back to see if you're okay after his team pulls him away and places him on top of their shoulders.

You remember how last night he tried to break your window but you slept downstairs because you're not ready to face him and you don't know if you ever will be.

"I saw it on the internet."

Your world shatters.

Eighteen

You're lying on your bed in your new dorm room. You're in college now and you're happy. Your parents wanted you to have a party on your debut but you disagree, saying that the tradition was silly and nonsensical.

It's been a year since you've last talked. Since the night you crawled down your living room, curling up your body with tears running down your face, hearing the loud banging on your window. You didn't tell him you were leaving for London for college. You heard from your parents that he's on his way to Toronto. You didn't give him any contact details and ask your parents not to give anything away.

It is four in the morning and you're still not asleep. You imagine yourself in class later, your head lolling down and your eyes barely open.

And then your cellphone rings and you pick it up. It's your mother.

She asks how you are and you tell her about everything, reminding her that their time zones are different now and it's too early here.

"How about you and dad, mum? I reckon the house is silent without me and my loud music."

And then she pauses for a while before speaking. "You know your friend next door?"

"Yeah?" you say nonchalantly.

"He's left,"

You say okay and you proceed to tell your mum about how awesome your roommate Marize is.

Nineteen

You watch the familiar views of your hometown whiz by the car window. Your father is driving you home from the airport for your winter break. The sun was shining and you feel your father eyeing you through the rear-view mirror as he drove the car to a halt on your garage.

"Mum!" You step out the car and cry out loud and give her a big hug. You've missed her.

Minutes later, you're carrying your luggage upstairs and opening the door to your room. There's something in your stomach now and you can feel it. Your intestines are coiling and you curse yourself for being nervous about nothing at all. Your room is still the same and the room is just like when you've left it. You try to pry your eyes away from your window but you can't control it.

You drop your trunk on the floor and walk toward the glass. You feel yourself choking back tears as you open it. You're acting on instinct now as you slid through the branch that you use years ago. His window is unlocked.

You step in and his scent wafts in to you but you hold yourself together and scan the surroundings. Everything is still the same except that he's not here anymore. You don't know where he is or when he'll come back. You walk in his closet and touch the sleeves of his shirts as you move and a certain black beater catches your eye. It's hanging by the coat rack with the t-shirts you used to borrow when you sleepover his place or when the rain suddenly pours down while you're on the tree outside. It was a shirt much like the one you've seen in the mall way back but instead of an 'I Heart You' it says 'I Brain You' and you find yourself laughing and crying and snatching the shirt off the rack.

Days later you're on your way to the airport with your luggage almost bursting because you brought those five shirts you found hanging in his closet and the I Brain You lies on the topmost.

Twenty

The day started out fine and you're sitting around the round tables of Tootsies munching on a burger and crinkle-cut fries with Marize and she's in one of those you-must-date moods. She's been doing that ever since your last date failed and the other 50 prior to that. She slurps on her Coke before eyeing your shirt disdainfully. The big bold letters of I Brain You now looking over-washed and over-worn but you love to wear it especially on lazy Sundays much like this.

You eye the vintage ads hanging on the brick wall and find yourself wondering what he would say to her about those blind dates you've been in. You're sad and Marize knows it and everyone who knows you knows about it and they can't get through you because you don't let them. There's an empty space you've been trying to fill and yet no one even comes close. Your life sounds like a big soap opera showing daily on primetime telly and you're one of those people who sometimes cry themselves to sleep.

"So, I know this guy who's looking for a girl," Marize starts but you shake your head for her to stop. You're not ready, you say but it's just a cover up for the 'I won't be for anyone else but him'. You haven't been home for over a year and your father says you've got an English accent already. You don't know if he's joking but you don't bother to ask.

She stays silent for a while then you notice her nose crinkles whilst eyeing something from outside the glass window. "Is I Brain You a new trend or what?"

You look up and follow her gaze and you drop your can of coke. It's him with the sticky-out hair and green eyes and he's here and he's holding someone else's hand but you don't notice. Next thing you know you're up on your feet and you're running out the shop. You're vaguely aware of Marize throwing down some money and following you out. Your mind is split into two, whether you should run away from him or towards him but the emotional side of you wins and you find yourself not caring who the girl is or whatever. You yell out his name and he turns around but before he can register who you are, you flung yourself around him, tears leaking out of your eyes and whispering things but you don't know what those mean.

"I…god… I… I thought I'd never see you again…" you mutter and then you pull away and he's looking at you and his eyes were wide with shock. You notice the girl eyeing the similar shirts you're wearing and she tightens her hold on his hand and you see rings on their finger and you feel faint.

This time, you realize, the heart does break.

Twenty One

It's been raining for a week and you're inside the apartment you and Marize share but she's out in Drill Hall, drinking up with her long term boyfriend. You haven't left London for two years and you're sure your dad's right about the accent. There's a knock on the door and you roll your eyes. Marize's forgotten her keys again.

But the person who greets you on the other side is not Marize. You freeze on the spot with his green eyes boring yours and you fiddle with the long shirt you're wearing. The one you stole from his closet years ago. His tattered soccer t-shirt, his surname emblazoned in the back. He looks at you and you look at him and you don't know what else to do. You want to open your mouth but you can't so he did.

The things Marize told you, the ones she researched about him after she saw the wreck you have been after seeing him again the fateful Sunday a year ago, flashed back. No, he's not married, he's just engaged. Yes, he's been living in London for two years. Yes, he's been looking for this unknown girl whom he met when he was thirteen or fourteen. "I love you, you know?"

And you nod and you smile and you frown but you let him in and he kisses you on the mouth and you never wanna let him go again. Ever. And judging by the way he's pulling you to him, he feels the same way.

Speak Easy ;;