It's been some years since we were fifteen. Not many. Enough for some things to have changed. That day I told you I wanted to die. We were in a small café near our highschool. You kept looking at the table we were sitting at, munching on something to say. You were the only person I seriously talked about that with back then. As usual. I wasn't expecting you to say you wanted to be a father one day. To ask if I didn't want to have kids of my own. I honestly don't remember what I said next. The girl that had been sweeping nearby started talking to us soon after. I miss you, you know. Miss those eyes that would never lie to me. Even when you tried. Wherever you are, please know that I've thought about it for some time now. I do, too.