He is my best friend.

It wasn't long for me to understand his pain. It was clear and pure. He would grip my hand and clasp his other palm on his chest. I would stand still and sometimes hold him on his position as I watched him gasping. The pain would only last about 5 minutes the most. Then he would slowly loosen his grip and inhale naturally. He would smile and I returned back with a weak reply. I am his stand when he is out of breath.

He's been a friend as long as I could remember. Someone dearly to me. Someone so special. Not in a girlfriend or boyfriend way. It's more to a son or a brother way. I love him so much. He means everything to me. He's the one who will sit patiently beside me and listen to my ridiculous ramblings. He's the one who will gladly (or reluctantly) volunteer to taste my poisonous cooking. He's the one who will lend me his shoulder for me to cry when I just broke up with a guy. He’s the one who will buy me presents on Christmas, Birthday, Thanks Giving, Easter, Halloween; you name it. He’s the one who will let me copy him in tests even though he knows he’ll get 200 days of detentions. He’s the one who will help me with my homework and sleepover night just to keep me company. He is everything that even a superman can’t beat.

He always says that I am everything to him too. His best friend. His soul mate. And yet he’s the one who does everything for me.

Though we love each other, the romantic feeling never sparks between us. Not even one second. Because we knew better. Even when we were kids that we might be best friends but we couldn’t make each other happy to be lovers. And we knew back then and we know now that we will live as best friends and die as best friends.

His family, my family and I are the only people who know about his deadly sickness. His heart is weak since he was a baby. He has difficulties in breathing and doing extreme things. He can’t be too excited or be too devastated because his heart might not be able to withstand such emotions. Though it was heart for all of us to keep his emotions steady, it was never impossible to do so. He makes it simple for us and for himself as well. He’s such a saint. He’s never a devil even for a minute. I miss him dearly.

Though we have finished high school and go to different colleges, we still keep in touch with each other. I call him every night and we meet once or maybe twice a week. We talk, we laugh, we have lunch together. It’s hard not having him close to me. Because I always look for a shoulder to cry on, and I don’t want anyone else’s but his. I always look for someone to taste my cooking and I want him to be the first. I always look for someone to hear me ramble about everyday’s nonsense and he has the ears for it. I miss being close to him. I miss being able to always hold his hand and hear him whisper, “I’ll catch you when you fall, I be there when you need me, I’ll stand by you and the sky is the limit .” He’s a true friend. I can picture his eyes twinkling and smiling, his laugh and his gestures.

He is my shoulder to cry on, my food taster and my ears while I am his stand for him to hold on when he’s out of breath.