I tried not to think much of it. I tried not to make a big deal. Even though the optimistic side of my brain was making up romantic situations and conversations that might happen, I still tried to keep my hopes in check. Therefore, I decided to go for casual wear—a flannel shirt and faded jeans. My safe choices. Most of the clothes that I owned looked babyish or too grown-up—and by "grown-up," I mean the kind of outfit my old-fashioned mom would wear.

However, my overexcited sister thought that my clothes were too dull and tomboyish, so she made me wear her pale pink lace sundress and gave me a simple makeover.

I told her, "Clover, isn't this a little too proper? I mean, we'll just talk—"

She raised her hand to stop me. "I know you guys have hung out many times before, but this time? I think it's different, so you should dress up prettily. Trust me."

Her words fueled my optimism and made me tense.

While I sat on the bench facing the fountain two hours later, my head was chock-full of scenarios that didn't match up with reality at all. I imagined Michael wearing clothes that were not his style, and I tried to guess what he wanted to say to me. Maybe he wanted to talk more about his life. Maybe he wanted to show me his new work just like last time. Or maybe he would say those magical three words that I had longed to hear him say and longed to say myself. No matter how our talk would turn out, I was sure I would still enjoy it because he was there.

A tingling sensation ran down my body when I saw a moving figure in my peripheral vision, but the feeling died right away when it was only a passerby. This went on for several times: my heart rate spiking up in anticipation whenever I sensed someone coming and then falling dramatically. I checked my wristwatch; doubts were beginning to creep into my mind.

Two minutes left. Maybe I'm too early? But he said 4 PM, right? And he said today, didn't he? And not next Sunday? I checked my phone for any new messages. Zero. Did he forget about it? No, that can't be.

I began to cramp from sitting, so I stood up and sauntered around the area for a bit, still searching for any sign of him. All I saw were people riding bikes and walking their dogs. I sent him a message about my location and went back to the bench.

It was a few minutes past four, and yet he was nowhere to be found. My throat became dry, but I tried to comfort myself. Something must've come up, and he had to take care of it. He would just be a little late.

So I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

My calls were left unanswered. My patience was wearing thin. I felt tired, let down, worn out by expectancy. But I still waited.

Then finally, I received a message from him.

I'm sorry.

He never came.

──────

I stomped to my room and slammed the door shut, which made Clover jump up from her bed and my mom yell at me from downstairs. Clover's eyes were wide, and her face was lit with a hunger to learn how it had turned out, but I only said, "Look, Clover. I'm really tired, okay?" and flopped across my bed on my stomach.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and reread his message over and over until my eyes moistened. Clover remained silent behind me, but I knew that she knew that the meeting didn't turn out the way we had anticipated.

"Okay... I'll just be downstairs if you need me," she said.

The door shut. I clenched my fist and teeth so strongly, and with my anger and dismay, I could do nothing but bear my wounded fantasy and hold back my tears. I should've known that his promise was writing drawn in the sand, waiting to be washed away by the tide.

Are you just playing with me, Michael?

My anger didn't simmer down the next day. I had planned what I would say to him and how I would say it. I looked for him throughout the day but didn't find him. Assuming that he must be avoiding me, I asked the others where he was. But they were looking around for him, too. They were as puzzled as I was.

"Why is she super stressed out about him? What gives?" I heard Rose whisper to my sister, who nudged and shushed her. I had told Clover about what had gone wrong and had begged her not to interfere, as it was my problem to solve.

My thoughts were heavily centered on his whereabouts throughout the day. And when I didn't see him anywhere, even the following day, I assumed that guilt had consumed him to the point where he couldn't afford to show up his face.

I knew it was callous of me to think and act that way, but my selfishness had exceeded my better judgment. It made me unable to think rationally. It made me unable to consider his side of the story. I wish I weren't so selfish.

Two weeks after that, Michael didn't come back to school. The others sent him a bunch of text messages and called him several times, but they received no word from him. They became anxious and exhausted, not only because of the finals, but because of what could have happened to him.

I wanted to check up on him myself, too, but because I couldn't swallow my pride, I always ended up hesitating. Even so, I couldn't stomach it—the troublesome feeling of something going wrong. It gradually put out the fire within me until it left me cold.

Then one day, at lunch, he showed up. Alive and well. And he looked as if he'd never been gone at all. His sudden arrival had stopped the group's conversation, surprise engraved on our faces. None of us could speak for a minute until Nate greeted him with one of those bro hugs where they slapped each other's back.

"Dude, we missed you!" he shouted and pulled Michael to the table.

A chill wracked my body as he sat across me. My voice cracked as I said, "Michael... welcome back."

His blank face changed to one of surprise, and his mouth formed an unnatural grin.

"Hey, thanks," he said.

"Where have you been, man? What've you been up to?" Clint asked, his words tumbling out in haste. "We were worried out of our minds!"

"Sorry. Something came up at home that I had to tend to," Michael replied, confirming my hunch.

Rose furrowed her eyebrows. "Are you okay, Michael?"

"Yes, I am. It's all good now." That was all he said. No further questions were raised.

Rose clapped her hands to break the growing silence. "Great! You're back just in time. We need to focus on studying this week because exams are in three days."

"Are you guys seriously prepared for this?" Nate asked.

"Yep. Autumn and I have been studying lots at home, you know?" Clover said. This was only partially true. She had spent most of her study time crying over some animal videos on the Internet.

"I have my handouts with me anywhere." Clint held up some papers as proof.

"Shit," Nate muttered. "How about you, Mikey?"

"Took some time to read my notes, so I think I'm good."

"Well, fuck me sideways. I didn't have enough time to study for shit. Still haven't memorized half of my notes," Nate complained dramatically.

"Actually, there's plenty of time. You just like to waste on useless things. Here, slacker. Work. We all made a promise to graduate together." Rose threw a textbook at him. "You don't have to memorize everything. Just try to understand your notes."

"Man, people say 'you gotta hit the books,' but now the books are hittin' me instead."

Michael watched them and hid his mouth with the back of his hand to laugh. Meanwhile, I observed the things that everyone else seemed to try to ignore. His messy hair. His wrinkled black hoodie. The cruel dark lines beneath his eyes. And the Band-Aid on his right cheekbone.

All of those things made me wonder where the real Michael was and where he had gone.

──────

After school, I found a sticky note on my locker.

Meet me at the tree. You know which one. –M

With a foreboding feeling in my chest, I rushed my way to the sycamore tree where Michael was waiting patiently. For how long, I didn't know. He was sitting on one of the thick roots. Upon hearing my footsteps, he stood up and turned his unreadable face to me. We were making eye contact, but it felt like he was looking through and far beyond me.

"I'm glad you came," he said. "I thought you would ignore the note."

"Why did you think of that?" I asked.

"You're mad at me, aren't you? I broke my promise." He didn't wait for my reply as he added, "How long did you wait for me?"

My feelings from the past two weeks came rushing back like a tidal wave. "A long time," I said. A single tear ran from my unblinking eyes and dripped into my shirt. "I waited for you for a very long time." I pronounced every word, every syllable clearly and intensely to make sure that my hurt pierced through the barrier he had set up around him. "I was so mad at you. I'm still mad at you. But I'm also worried sick."

Michael didn't any movement. He just stood there with his hands limp at his sides, watching another tear slide down my cheek, then another, until my body shook from crying.

"I understand," he said. His words were barely perceptible. "I'm sorry. I couldn't make it that day. I'm really sorry."

"What happened to you?" I sniffed and wiped my tears away. "You came back as suddenly as you disappeared."

He was silent for a long time, so long that I wondered if he was going to speak at all.

"Something came up at home," he repeated what he had said to everybody at lunch. "I'm fine, don't worry."

"Michael—"

"Let me make it up to you, okay?" His voice had taken on a slightly desperate tinge, but he tried to cover it with a small smile. "Please."

I stared into the void of his eyes. No games and lies were evident in his expression. My stomach recoiled at the fear of having history repeat itself, but at the same time, I was determined to know what he was thinking and what had happened to him.

Exhaling a deep breath, I gave him a nod of my head. "Okay."

"Thank you," he said, his appearance suddenly looking a little less tired. He started walking ahead of me, and I followed him.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To the only place that I love in this town. I need to show you something."

──────

I never thought he would take me to the harbor. It was the leading attraction of the town as it offered the unobstructed vastness of the sea, and it was a place in my childhood memory that had almost seemed to be lost and forgotten. Michael motioned me to sit with him on the bench facing the sea.

When I settled down next to him, I said, "So... what do you want to show me?"

"Something extraordinary. Just enjoy the view while we wait. Good thing the conditions are perfect."

I was further intrigued but didn't press it. "Do you come here often?" I inquired instead.

"Yes."

"What do you do?"

"Just sit here, looking at the view and listening to a piece of music or trying to create one."

I looked at the view with him for a minute. It was a clear afternoon without clouds on the horizon. The sun was dropping bit by bit. People promenaded along the waterfront, engaging in various forms of recreation. A salty breeze passed by, and it made the fishing boats rock against the quay. I closed my eyes, taking in the tranquility of this little part of the world.

Suddenly, my ears picked up the distant sound of a ferry's horn, and I was startled. I cracked my eyes open and saw Michael staring at me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked.

He moved his gaze back to the sea. "Because it's like I'm facing two sunsets at the same time."

"What do you mean?"

"It's your hair, Marmalade. It resembles the sunset."

"I see," I replied in an amused tone.

Laughter and screams rang behind us, and we both turned around to see several children playing tag. A smile crept to my lips as a fond memory occurred to me.

"You know," I began, "Clover and I used to come here when we were kids, and then we would chase each other around or pretend to fish. Sometimes, our mom and dad would make a picnic."

Michael nodded with a pensive smile. "Do you ever wish you could go back in time and be a kid again?"

"Yeah, sometimes. We all looked so happy and peaceful back then..." I trailed off, recalling the misfortune that had struck my family many years ago. "By back then, I mean... the time before Dad left us."

"Do you know where he is now?"

I took a second to breathe and think about it. I had never told anyone about my family's history, so it was difficult to answer. "I don't know. My parents fought a lot, and I was too young to understand what was happening. Clover would always cover my ears and help me sleep. One day without warning, Dad moved out. He didn't say goodbye. He didn't take anything. We've never heard a word from him ever again. Mom and Clover refused to talk about him. I think they don't miss him."

"And how about you?"

"I do. I still do. It's impossible to forget a person who played such an important role in your life. A person who gave you the best and the worst memories."

"But it's impossible to go back in time, isn't it?"

"Laws of physics said so."

He emitted a dry chuckle. "I don't wish to go back in time. But I do wish I could foresee the consequences of my actions so I could stop whatever I was doing in the present and change the future."

I listened to him carefully, but even so, I couldn't unravel him.

"Oh, yeah." He pointed at the sun, which was now almost hiding behind the horizon. "There's an optical phenomenon where the sun flashes a green light the very moment it dips below the horizon or rises above it. Blink once and you won't see it, so watch the upper rim of the sun very carefully, okay?"

"Sure."

I watched just as instructed, thrilled to see the green light. We both waited in silence as the sun dropped until it was nearly entirely below the horizon. For a second or two, an intense flash of emerald green appeared on the sun's upper edge before the big ball of light completely disappeared from the sky.

"How was it?" I heard him ask.

I wasn't able to answer right away. My eyes were glued to where the blue sea met the orange sky, and I replayed the green flash in my head. Seeing such a pretty thing last for only the briefest time was so overwhelming that it almost physically hurt.

"Beautiful," I whispered. "It was beautiful."

"It sure was. That's what I've wanted to show you."

I looked at him and smiled. "Thank you, Michael."

He smiled back and offered his hand to me. "Come, let me walk you home."

──────

The night fell like a curtain as we ambled on the sidewalk, streetlights shining above our heads. The air had cooled, and the crickets sang from the pines.

"Thanks for sticking around with me," he said after a period of silence. We were almost close to my home.

I watched him earnestly. His shoulders were slumped again, and he looked like he was losing the strength to pretend a smile. Looking again at the Band-Aid on his cheekbone, I could no longer hold back my worry.

"What's the matter, Michael?"

"Nothing. Why do you ask that?" he replied, brushing aside my concern with another dry chuckle.

"It's not 'nothing,'" I insisted. "I can tell something's up. What is it? Please tell me what's wrong."

"Autumn, I told you I'm—"

"Don't say you're okay because you're not!"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

My shoulders rose and fell as I tried to catch my breath. Frustration and helplessness had filled me, burning like acid in my stomach, begging me to let them out. "Everyone knows you're not okay. Rose, Clover, Nate, Clint—all of them were pretending to be happy when you said it was all good."

"You're so stubborn," was what he only said. He didn't sound annoyed. Instead, he sounded tired. Defeated. He shook his head and resumed his walk.

I rushed to grab his wrist. "I... I know I can't solve all your problems. I know I don't have the power to change whatever happened to you. But I don't want to see you hurt, so vent it all on me, and I will listen to you."

Michael didn't push himself away from my hold. He just stood with his back facing me.

"Mother died."

The words left him in a hushed tone, and they slowly faded into the air.

"The night before we were supposed to meet, my mother was rushed to the hospital after collapsing in her room. I was told she'd had a stroke. There was nothing the doctors could do for her."

His voice was empty of emotion, but beyond this emptiness, I could sense one thing. Hurt. I didn't let go of his hand.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Michael," I spoke gently.

"I wasn't able to save her," he kept on. "She and Elodie—I wasn't able to save them. Mother and I were never really close, but losing another person in your life just fucking hurts. I was the source of their misfortunes. I brought bad luck to the family who took me in. I could have done something. I could have prevented their death."

"Michael, please don't blame yourself. You'll get through it. Please just hang in there. We're here to help you."

He took a moment to compose himself with a shuddering breath before asking, "You always say 'it will be okay', but do you have a clue how it's going to be?"

"No. But... but I think that if you choose to believe that it will be okay and do something to make it happen, then it will be okay."

With the help of the streetlight, I caught a tender look on his face as he stared at me through his bloodshot eyes. Sighing, he pulled my hand off his wrist, saying, "You really are gullible. But in a good way."

"I'm here for you. Remember that you can always talk to me if needed," I said.

And he asked, "Why do you do this for me?"

Right there, right then, I could've just told him that it was because I loved him, but the question somehow got deep into my mind. It dug up some of my bottled-up memories and tossed them back in front of me. That was when the epiphany struck me. It was not because of love and generosity alone, but also because of my fear and weakness.

My throat became dry after a minute of contemplation. "It's... because... I want to help."

"Why would you want to help?" Michael's somber expression was forcing me to give an honest answer. So, I did.

"I can't stand to watch the people I care about fall apart. I'm afraid of being helpless to protect them. To save them. That's why... that's why I want to do something for them."

"I figured that as much," he replied.

"Then why did you ask me if you already knew?"

"I wanted you to acknowledge it."

Looking down, I chewed on my lower lip. He was reading me like a book again and exceptionally well at that, as always.

"I'm not worth worrying about, Autumn."

"If you're not, I wouldn't worry about you as much as this."

"I appreciate your concern for me. I really do. But you shouldn't worry about me anymore."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You'll know soon," he said and turned his back to me again. "I should go now. Thank you for the time and for listening to me. I truly needed it."

As seconds passed, as his steps took him away from me, my concern grew again. I followed him, shouting, "Where are you going? Are you going home?" He wouldn't stop until I reached him, but even then, he seemed miles and miles away. "Michael—"

He spun to me and sighed once more, playfully tapping my forehead with his knuckles. "You worry too much. Didn't I tell you that you shouldn't worry about me anymore? We'll see each other again sometime."

"You'll be back at school tomorrow, right?" I said hopefully.

"I have a lot of things to do. We'll see."

"But Michael—"

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

He gave me an easy, reassuring smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. I would have smiled back if his expression didn't make my heart heavier than it already was.

"Okay," I said.

But more words still lingered in my chest, and I felt it was time to let it all out.

"I love you."

Saying it was like jumping off a cliff, blindfolded, with no idea if there was hard ground or water or if it was just an endless drop into an endless expanse. My fear was so acute that it was difficult for me to speak, move, or even breathe. But I needed to take the jump. I had to.

Because important words had to be said out loud.

His dark eyes widened as he took in my confession. Closing the distance between us, Michael cupped my cheeks with both hands and made me look him in the eyes. My skin tingled from the contact, but I didn't pull away.

"I have always been—" The words left my mouth in a breathy whisper, but I was stopped before I could say the last four words: in love with you.

I wanted to stop time. I wanted to freeze the world so that I could be with him and we could stay that age forever. And we would just talk and talk because there were still so many important words that needed to be said. But then, it was impossible, and the reality of it was too painful to accept. I understood that our lives were not fully recognized. Our future had plenty of opportunities and possibilities, and we needed to move forward to reach them.

However, all those worries and fears faded away, and all that mattered at that moment was his kiss on top of my head.

"Thank you," he said. His voice, which was full of gratitude, reverberated in my ears. It was like music playing the sweetest song until it ended on an off-key note. "Please don't wait for me."