After the hug during recess, me and Jeremy go back to what we used to do. Spending every second together.

Nap time, lunch time, recess. Anytime we could spend with the other, we would take it. It was our own little treaty.

We'd stay together through thick and thin. Through everything. I truly felt that I had a friend for life.

Jeremy was a great friend. He was kind, funny, a little cute, and the teacher said being gay isn't bad so I'm allowed to say that stuff.

We lasted like that through the rest of our kindergarten and first grade and second and third. All the way up to fifth.

Nothing changed much then. But it was the first year that we had different teachers. Me and Jer couldn't hang out as much anymore in school.

We started hanging outside of school. Mostly I'd go to his house but occasionally he would come to mine.

We played video games together and, on days we had sleepovers, we'd sleep in the same bed as one another.

We did all the things couples would do. Only we weren't a couple. And I was pretty sure Jeremy would never see me that way.

I had a sliver of hope that he might all throughout childhood. But all that hope came crashing down in middle school.

"Micheal, look," Jeremy had said to me. He pointed down the courtyard but I couldn't see what he was pointing at.

"Jer, what is it? I can't see," I had responded. He pointed through the crowds again and I saw.

A girl with black hair that went down to her shoulders. She seemed happy and loud. I looked up at Jeremy.

"Yeah? So," I asked him. He hums and rests his head on my shoulder. He continues staring at the girl.

"She's so pretty," he says. My hope falls but doesn't die. He might still like me. Maybe this isn't a crush and he just thinks she looks good.

But Jeremy kept staring. He kept staring and staring at this girl. He liked her, he had told me one night.

He really liked her. My heart beat loudly inside my chest and my stomach sunk. There was no sickening squish or crack to go with it but I knew.

My heart had been broken. My hope had been squashed. I felt like crying but didn't. I told Jer that I couldn't hang out that day.

I went home, shoved my face into a pillow and cried. I cried and cried and cried. I liked this boy. I liked him so, so much. And he likes someone else.

The next morning I come into school late. I go up to Jer and ask, "do you even know her name?"

He nods and hums, "her name is Christine."

It's a name I wouldn't forget anytime soon.

Christine Canigula.