It was a sunny day in London, and more than anything, I wish you were here with me. In midst of all the grandeur of the century old buildings and the haste of the dashing Londoners, I miss you. All I could think about was how much fun we'd have together if you were here, about how I could hold your hands and together we'd explore every corners of London, its stone-paved streets and its hidden charms.

I have tried so hard to forget about you. Yet my failed attempt to replace you allowed me to finally realize that it's always been you. It's always going to be. You're the only person that I can fully let all my guards down, that I can tell every secrets, without any hesitation or shame. You were there for me through it all. I pushed you, and instead of pushing back, you pulled me even closer. Instead of telling me how you feel, you showed me. With every touch, you emblazon a painting with infinite possibilities, for you, for me, for us.

I don't need to be your first, I just want to be your last.

The secrets that we shared, the joy that we created, the night that was the beginning for many things--all of that was the perfect goodbye gift.

Four months, and you'll get to see me.

Four months, and we'll take on the world together.

Four months, and I might or might not fall in love with you again.

Love me.