An Everlasting Smile

From the moment I was born, loneliness has been my constant companion. My parents worked tirelessly to give me every happiness, yet they never realized that the truest joy I longed for had long since slipped through their fingers...

When I was young, I was surrounded by people who doted on me for my endearing sweetness and chatterbox ways. I reveled in smiling and laughing alongside them--it made me feel like the luckiest child alive. I had loving parents who gave me their time, and I was loved by others in return. I cherished everyone around me just as fiercely.

But as the years passed, subtle shifts began to take hold. By the time I reached fourth grade, I hardly ever smiled or laughed for anyone. The talkative boy I once was retreated into silence; the circle of children and adults who once flocked to me vanished, leaving only worried looks.

My parents' love never wavered--but two things changed. They learned to show love to me in a different way, and they stopped loving each other. Neither shift brought me the warmth I once felt.

They believed that money could buy my happiness. They toiled day and night to secure my future, pouring all their hours into work so that I might have comfort and opportunity. In doing so, they left me with paper riches but robbed me of their presence--and, tragically, of their love for one another. Even as a child of unusual insight, I came to understand that however vast the family fortune, without their time and care, I felt nothing but emptiness. And as I grew a little older, I learned a second truth: love, no matter how sweet it seems, need not endure.

I wasn't a troubled or resentful child--after all, no matter how bright, I was still just a boy. I laughed with classmates like any other, until middle school arrived. Then, as boyhood gave way slowly to young manhood, my introspective nature deepened every change I saw in myself. Outwardly I became known as "the quiet one," timid and painfully shy. Friends were few, and even when acquaintances greeted me daily, I felt more alone than ever--because none of them loved me for who I was. Not for my money, not for my games, and certainly not in the way a true friend would.

No, I was no millionaire; never indulgent. Every penny I had belonged to my parents, earned at the cost of my own happiness.

The second lesson I learned about myself was that I felt no interest in romance. I scarcely believed in love's existence. In seventh grade, while other boys whispered over crushes, I remained content in solitude.

Then in eighth grade, we drew new homeroom assignments--and I met someone I could truly call my dearest friend in all the world, then and now.

His name was Philip, and his family was comfortably middle class. He was neither strikingly handsome nor an academic star, nor a natural athlete. Yet the brightest thing about him--what set him apart--was his smile. He was the boy with countless friends, with admirers lining up to be near him. With nothing more than warmth and that shining smile, he could draw any group into his orbit. And though I saw him as remarkable in every way, he chose to befriend someone utterly unlike himself: someone like me.

Philip's cheerfulness stung me with envy whenever I saw him light up a room. At first, I assumed his kindness to me was mere courtesy--part of his habit of making friends with everyone. But over time, I realized that he didn't view me as a casual acquaintance, nor merely as a classmate. He saw me as a true friend.

He invited me everywhere, determined not to let me fade into the background. And often, it was just the two of us--talking about everything under the sun. He shared his dreams: how he wanted one day to work for NASA--not as an astronaut, but even if that meant mopping floors, he would be content. We laughed together at his grand ambitions.

But alongside laughter he confided darker thoughts: troubles at home he'd never revealed to anyone else. He trusted me alone with those fears. His words, his trust, wrapped around me in a way no one ever had before.

After knowing him for barely three months, I fell ill during P.E. class that day in the gym. Fevered and weak, I was given permission to rest in the infirmary. No sooner had I laid down then I heard someone enter.

"How are you feeling, Patrick?"

I raised my head, surprised to see Philip standing there. How did he even know?

"I'm okay," I murmured.

He moved closer and pressed a hand to my forehead. "You're burning up. Taken any medicine?"

I shook my head. "I don't feel like it. But how did you get here? Didn't you have class?"

He shrugged. "I asked the teacher. And honestly, I didn't have much else to do today." He pulled a chair beside me.

"Why do you go to such lengths?" I asked. I truly didn't understand why he cared so much for someone like me. Whenever other classmates fell ill or got hurt, everyone would crowd around them--with me, I felt distant concern, but never this devotion.

His face fell. "You don't like it when I do this?"

"No, no..." I sat up, eyes filling with tears I hadn't planned on shedding. "I'm sorry, Philip. I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I never imagined someone like me could have someone love and look after me this way. I don't understand why you care so much when no one else seems to."

Tears welled and began to fall as I spoke, unbidden, and in that moment I realized how profoundly my world had shifted--because of a single, unforgettable smile.

Philip looked up, and when he saw my tears, instead of offering condolences or sorrow, he surprised me with a broad, reassuring smile.

"Because I'm your friend," he said, wiping a tear from my cheek. "I love you. Okay?" He smiled again, gentle and warm. "Listen closely: you're not the aloof, unlovable person you think you are. You just find it hard to smile--that's all. I see another side of you: kind, tender. No one in class hates you, not really. They just haven't `seen' you the way I do... Give it time, Patrick. You'll see everyone loves you too."

At his words, fresh tears welled in my eyes.

"How can you say that so confidently?" I asked.

He paused thoughtfully, then grinned as if his answer had just come into focus. "Because I love you," he laughed.

I sat frozen. I was only fourteen, but I understood the implication: Philip was gay... and because he'd just said he loved me, it meant he loved me that way.

It wasn't the idea of Philip being gay that stunned me--after all, I knew my own heart, too, and I would have been overjoyed if he returned my feelings. What truly surprised me was that he'd said "I love you" not once, but twice.

Reading my silence, Philip spoke again. "Everyone else is hesitant to talk to you because you rarely smile and you guard your heart. But actually, you're the one who loves your friends more than anyone. Isn't that right?"

I bowed my head in embarrassment. Fever flushed my face, hiding my shame.

"Hey, why so shy?" Philip laughed, leaning close.

"My face is flushed because of the fever," I managed, meeting his eyes.

"I never said you were flushed," he teased, flicking my hair. "You're blushing, aren't you, Patrick?" He ruffled my hair, and I couldn't help but smile, my cheeks burning all the more.

"See?" Philip pointed at the dimple on my left cheek. "When you smile, you're impossibly cute. Remember to smile more, alright? I promise things will get better... And, by the way, I like it." He scratched his own cheek sheepishly, his own blush matching mine.

Our conversation ended there. The school nurse gently ushered Philip away so I could rest. He paused at the door, flashed me one last grin, winked--and then was gone. From that moment on, I knew exactly how I felt about my friend: I wanted to see that smile forever.

That was the first--and only--time he ever said he loved me.

After that day, Philip and I drew closer than ever. We were inseparable--our friends joked we were more tied together than conjoined twins--but I didn't mind. His friendship broke the ice; others began to tease and laugh with me too. As Philip had said, time proved that people could love me. I regained confidence, still quiet and reserved, but increasingly aware of my own growth--and of the joy Philip's presence brought me.

By the time we reached junior year, we were back in the same homeroom. Everyone knew we were a pair: one brilliant and shy, the other carefree and always smiling. Though we were as different as night and day, we promised to stand by each other until death.

But that vow was doomed--because I was the one who would break it.

It was the day before our final exam of junior year. After class, I waited on our usual bench, surrounded by friends as always. When Philip emerged from the exam room, he asked everyone else to leave.

"What's up?" I asked once we were alone.

"Nothing much..." He flashed that familiar grin. He looked so much taller, more grown-up than before--handsome, really.

"Stop with the smiles and get to the point," I teased, though I never tired of seeing him grin.

"Really? You're tired of my smile?" He laughed and leaned closer until I couldn't help but blush and smile back.

"Okay, okay," I said. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Tomorrow's our last exam," he said, settling back on the bench. "So I want to invite you somewhere... after we celebrate with everyone else." He hesitated. "I mean, I want you to come over to my house."

"Your house?" I echoed in surprise. I'd never been there. He'd been to mine only a handful of times.

"Yeah," he said, scratching his cheek in that shy way I adored. "I want you to stay over."

I feigned suspicion. "What's the catch? Are you planning to...?" I let the rest hang, smiling.

He laughed. "Don't worry--if I wanted that, I'd just ask straight-up."

My cheeks went hotter still. Philip's blunt jokes always left me unsure whether he was teasing or serious.

"Aha--you're blushing now," he crowed. "Think you can make it?"

"I'll have to ask my folks," I said, but I was already certain.

"Parkers!" a voice called. We both turned to see our physics teacher beckoning Philip.

"Darn," Philip groaned. "Alright, you've got my answer. Tomorrow--after your last exam--be at my place. I've got something to tell you... Something I haven't said in years. Four years, actually." He gave me a quick hug, then bolted to his teacher. I watched him jog away, head down, hand scratching his cheek.

I sat there for minutes, Philip's words echoing in my mind. Did he mean what I thought? If he did, then something inside me had already taken its first step forward. No matter what anyone said, I was ready to speak my heart at last. I just needed courage--courage I would summon for him.

If anyone dared to impose limits on love, I'd show them there were no bounds. Philip and I had shared years of love--two boys loving each other--and my parents' failed marriage only proved that gender didn't define the strength of love. From what I'd learned, love, like a butterfly, takes time to grow--beautiful, fragile, fleeting... and yet worth every moment.

I counted down to that final exam with trembling anticipation. I longed to say "I love you" to the one who already knew my heart.

But hope remained just that. The next morning, news shattered my world: Philip had been struck by a car whose drunk driver ran a red light. He didn't survive.

My heart splintered. I stared blankly at the exam before me, tears blurring every answer. Around me, teachers and classmates wept; their grief washed over me, but I heard only Philip's voice--clear and bright, younger than ever--telling me he loved me, promising to meet me after all those years, vowing he would love me until death.

He never came. Never would again.

He was the light that had brightened my world. The first to teach me what friendship truly meant--and what love could be.

I never went to his house. At his funeral, his mother pressed something into my hand: a photograph of us sitting together in eighth grade, smiles wide and unguarded. My left dimple visible as we leaned close. I traced the imprint of his laughter one last time, and in my mind, I heard him again:

"Smile more--you're so beautiful when you do. I promise, everything will be alright... I love you."

"I never get tired of your smile, Patrick. I love it--and I love you."

I sobbed harder than ever, then turned the photo over. In his younger hand, he'd written:

"I will love you until the day I die."

Below, in a steadier, adult script:

"My one true love--forever and always."

I wept until I could no longer feel my tears. Even his mother and friends could only hold me while I mourned. In my life, I had never known love like his--and now, I faced a future without him.

From that day on, I lived with a single ache: regret that I never managed to say those three simple words back.

When the new term began, I returned to school--but I wasn't there. My silence and reserve deepened. I withdrew, unwilling to risk new bonds only to lose them again. Each breath was haunted by his absence; each night, I wept for my dearest friend.

One day, I took out that photograph and stared at it as I had countless times before. His smile urged me to change, to honor his wish for my happiness. I realized he wanted me to live, to smile again. So I promised myself I would grow stronger--for me, and for the boy whose laughter still echoed in my heart.

I found the most recent portrait of Philip I had. Even now, I never tired of that gentle grin. I knew his greatest wish: my happiness. So I vowed to live--truly live--for him, who still lived on inside me.

"I'm sorry I broke our promise," I whispered to his image. "You kept yours until the end. And I love you still, beyond the bounds of life and death. I promise... nothing--not even death--can change that... Philip, I swear from this day on..."

My voice failed, choked by tears. I cried until I fell into fevered sleep, the photograph clutched to my chest.

The next morning, I withdrew from school. I could no longer walk the halls where his memory lingered. Instead, I chose a new path--one I would walk with his love as my guide. I vowed never to forget my dearest friend, whose smile remains alive in my heart whenever I close my eyes.

From here on, I will strive to live fully and joyfully--for the boy who still smiles for me, somewhere beyond this world.

I will love you forever.