I remember when I first met you.

We were both seven years old, and your family had just moved to our peaceful, coastal Irish village of Doran.

I was colouring a dragon using brightly coloured crayons in a quiet corner of my school classroom when you accosted me with a flurry of pigtails and giggles and told me your name was Freya Murphy. Even at that tender age, your smile was infectious, and I couldn't help reflecting it as I introduced myself as Ryan McCoy and offered you a crayon. When you then sat down and chose a picture of a space rocket to colour while we kept each other company, I was elated to have you join me.

After that moment, our bond only ever grew in strength.

Your parents had purchased an old farmstead on the outskirts of the village, renaming it 'Murphy's Farm' to reflect your family name. Their refurbishment of it was stylish, using classic designs and furnishings that were in keeping with its character without making it look outdated. As well as actively working the land, they offered weekend horse-riding lessons to the local community.

I was never interested in horses, but my younger sister, Niamh, loved them, and thrived on the opportunity to learn to ride. Your mother always treated her with love and patience, and that influence bled through into other areas of her life.

I may not have been overly enamoured of horses or riding, but with my father often working on Saturdays, and at an age when I was too young to be left at home alone, my mother had no choice but to bring me along. Not that I minded, because I inevitably got to spend time with you when my mother stayed for coffee with your family after our riding lessons. Niamh would join us for games of 'hide and seek,' which, in such a notable property, was an adventure of its own. I happily spent hours exploring its narrow passageways and hidden chambers, which were steeped in history.

On the days where you were unavailable, I would sprint across the meadow to the majestic oak tree that grew near the periphery of your property. Its wide branches and thick, gnarled trunk drove me to believe it must have been over a hundred years old, and I often wondered what wonders it must have seen and endured over its long lifetime, and what secrets it would share if it could.

A short distance behind the tree was an abandoned patch of land, littered with weeds and wildflowers, that had fallen foul of neglect. Your mother once told me that it had once been the site of a smaller house that had been destroyed in a fire. At some point after the blaze, ownership of the derelict land where the house had once stood had transferred to the proprietor of the farmstead, which is how it came to be owned by your family.

After digging up an old half-penny from the dirt on this disused site when I was ten years old, I hunted for 'treasure' at the same location as often as your mother would let me. And so, my ineffaceable fascination with history and antique artifacts took hold.

Every Sunday, after church, we would walk down to the seafront, just south of Eithne's Crag, and collect cockles and mussels. We knew our parents would cook them as an afternoon treat for us after we'd expended our energy along the pebbly coast. Occasionally we'd manage to acquire a limpet if we were nimble enough to pull it quickly from a rock before its sucker cemented it to the spot. We'd play in the cold, brackish water of the rockpools for hours with plastic buckets, collecting crabs and minnows, carefully returning them to their homes after we'd marvelled over their individual features and mannerisms. You would always make me laugh with your impression of a crab, as you walked sideways with your cheeks puffed out and your eyes crossed.

At fifteen years old, when we were both knee-deep in puberty and all the associated confusion and turmoil that accompanied it, you admitted your longstanding crush on me. I remember being shocked by the revelation, which led me to conclude that I'd either been so naïve that it had made me oblivious to your feelings, or you'd hidden it well. I put my hand on yours and made a confession of my own – that I'd been questioning my sexuality and had concluded that I was gay. Although you seemed surprised, you smiled and told me you understood. When I then told you that you were my best friend and I would love you forever, I meant every word. You took the situation well, all things considered, and any resulting awkwardness dissipated relatively quickly.

There was nobody I would rather have taken to prom after our graduation from senior school. We'd both had our fair share of casual flings, but nothing that had endured in the same manner or depth as our friendship. I couldn't have imagined dancing with anyone else under the rows of twinkling lights, and if my preferences for a partner had been different, I would no doubt have asked you for your hand in marriage.

But apparently, my destiny was fated to be much more extraordinary than to settle down with you in this quiet little coastal town.

Studying at a local college allowed us to specialise in the subjects we enjoyed most, while reaping the benefits of continuing to live with our respective families. You decided to study physics, while, perhaps not surprisingly, I opted for history. You had dreams of finding employment in the alternative energy industry, ideally in a research and development team where you could be at the forefront of technological advances. Meanwhile, I had no such concrete strategy for the future. My reasons for taking the history course lay firmly in my love for the subject, and not because I had any great career plan in place.

Despite our disparate interests, we still met every day for lunch at the café situated on the south side of the central quadrangle of the college campus. The menu boasted locally and ethically sourced seafood and didn't disappoint. The briny tang of the fresh cockles brought back fond memories for me of exploring the coastal rockpools of our youth.

By the time our final exams were approaching, any boyfriends that either of us had had were few and far between. So, since we were both single, we occasionally spent our lunch breaks together swapping opinions on the young male students that drifted through the café. Without knowing which way their preferences would swing, we mused that it was difficult to know which one of us they might hypothetically prefer. Inevitably the statistics meant that most of them were likely to fall in your favour, but it didn't prevent me from dreaming.

It was one fine morning in early spring during this final year of college that my life changed irrevocably.

Upon meeting as usual at the campus café for lunch, we both ordered a large portion of haddock and chips, as we had habitually done every Friday for as long as we'd attended the college. 'Fish Friday' was my favourite day of the week for campus food, as the haddock was almost guaranteed to be one of the 'Daily Specials' on the menu. The white, flaky fish easily gave way to the touch of a fork, and its subtle taste was the perfect contrast to the rich, crisp, battered shell in which it was encased. Every crumb of it would always be eagerly devoured by both of us, and that Friday in early spring was no exception.

"That was so good," I sighed as I leaned back for a moment, sated.

"It's always good," you agreed, mirroring my action and grinning. "By the way, Mam says you should come over for lunch tomorrow if you're free."

"Sure," I replied. I'd had more than enough experience of your mother's cooking to know that I wouldn't want to miss out if it was being offered. "Was there any particular reason?"

"It's a surprise," you answered cryptically.

"It's not even my birthday," I countered, smiling and raising an eyebrow.

"Who says it has to be a special occasion?" you retorted as we stood and meandered towards the exit. "We just have something we thought you might like to see. So, one o'clock, tomorrow, at our place?"

"Sure," I agreed nonchalantly as we parted ways and headed to our classes.

I wonder whether I would have been quite so insouciant about agreeing to our lunch if I'd known that the 'surprise' you alluded to would have such a significant influence on my future. As a result, I slept soundly that night, yet to comprehend that this juncture would be the catalyst that changed my life forever.