Short Stories (reconstructed)

Hand in hand

We were eleven when we met. We lived only a building away from each other, always finding the time to meet and play. We even shared a school service, and would sit together whenever we could. We would stay silent for most of our rides, on a few, we played on his iPad.

It wasn't long at all before his parents knew me, and mine knew his. They even knew each other.

I was once invited to one of his family's events, and I was off for the night with him, his sister, and his parents. We spent that night doing nothing but wander off into spaces with his cousin, telling stories and playing tag. They brought me along for an early Christmas celebration, where we watched a show at the mall and stared at fireworks.

At the end of the year, however, we bitterly separated as I'd kept him from contacting me. I was too afraid to communicate my emotions, thinking he would never understand.

Five years had passed since then, and I sat alone one night. I suddenly remembered our memories as if they only happened yesterday, and decided I'd find him and apologize.

I offered my apologies to him, and he willingly accepted. We became became better friends with time, and eventually felt the freedom we wanted to feel around each other.

Somewhere in our journey, we admitted that we both felt a certain way for each other in childhood, and that those feelings have come renewed as we spoke. We took a while to get where we are, and now, as I write, we're awaiting our second anniversary.