Beneath the citrus trees and over the bed of the lawn I lay with closed eyes, the warmth of his body next to mine leaving a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth.

"It's just this summer" he is saying, his voice just as hoarse as mine would be.

"I know" it was a whisper, and that was all I could manage to let out of me.

I can feel how cold my hands are getting just like my mind. Thinking about even just a minute of my life without Marty by my side is no better than having someone locking me in a dreadful prison.

"I'll call you all the time that you'll get really tired of me so you'll block the shit out of me," Marty says, still not so fluent in French and God, I would be so offended if someone says there is anything cuter than Marty speaking French.

A breathy laugh left past my lips as I press my palm to my eyes, "I would never get tired of you" I then held his gaze, His glossy hazel orbs as warm as the morning sun, "I would never".

A smile dances in the corner of his mouth, " I know"

With a sigh I fix my eyes on the horizon and watch how the sun peeks up between the mountains before letting itself shown to the world, scattering light in our lives, but only if my light isn't fading, if only I can make him stay and spend this summer together like we did the last two years.

It's just this summer. I try to make myself believe. And I do. But I can't take it.

"I'm afraid it's time for me to leave" I heard him say before his palm squeezed mine. I turn my face to the other side, afraid that my tears would never stop flowing if I took a glance at his face—his face which I wouldn't be able to see for a long, a very long Two months.

Two months which I don't think I can survive.

"Why do you have to leave?" There's no retreat from the way how my words shudder. I swallowed hard, but the lump is still there, "Talk to her again, maybe she would let you stay. Please…" I felt pathetic, But I could be anything in front of him. He would never say a word about it.

"I'm sorry that she won't" And that's the same answer I expect. The answer I've been hearing for the past weeks.

We tried anything and everything to make his mother agree for him to stay in my home while they fly to England, their motherland. But France is more of a home to Marty. France, my home country, which fails to be a home to me until Marty came here to make me fall in love with it.

"You know how she doesn't like us together. She would do anything to bring me England with her so that she could live in the relief of us not being together. What would she do if I turn into gay by your magic?" He snorts.

And all I could offer him was a sad smile.

His mother was no better than my father. So homophobic that it disgusts me. She never likes me in the first place because she believes that I'm gay— which I really am— But the thing is, she had known it way too long before I found it out myself. Ever since I and Marty become so annoyingly close (from her perspective), She start to curse every time she sees my face.

She even told me that i'm the one who's gonna make Marty a freak of nature even though she clearly knows Marty is as straight as straight could get. And a part of her knows that I and Marty are nothing more than great friends. But the other part of her still doubts. After all, she is a person who lives with what-ifs.

Marty sits up on the lawn, palm pressing onto the green grass. he turn his head to look me in the eyes, "I'll miss this" he said. And I notice how much rawer his voice had gotten over the span of two years and how his jaw sharpened as much as his hazel orbs.

I still remember the day I felt the warmth of it for the first time. It was when we were in the 1st year of high school. That day when One of my bullies dump my books in the toilet, Marty didn't even think twice before breaking his nose.

He got suspension and we got closer.

We are inseparable since.

I sit up, shoulder brushing against his, "and I would miss you" I whispers.

The sun has come fully out, and Marty's Brown locks glimmer in the streaks of sunlight as he lifts onto his feet and offered me his hand to get up.

He smiles at me and it's a sad one.

I throw my hands around his torso and bury my face in the crook of his neck, "I love you" I whispers.

"I love you too" His breath tingled the hairs on my neck. My eyes burn, and i'm not ready for goodbye.

"After these stupid two months, I'll be running to you, to here, to home," He says, squeezing me between his arms. "Till then, I want you to enjoy your summer here, And go to the farm and our lake and excavate every piece of this town like we always do" I felt him smile against my neck, "I can't physically be here with you, But in my mind, there will be only you and our Small town."

He pulls away his face from my neck, held my gaze, and gave me his most beautiful crooked smile, "Goodbye, Enzo. I can't wait to come back home"

I held his face between my palm, squinting the tears away as I press a kiss to his forehead, "I'll be waiting" I whisper.

The smile on his face never got away even though it is not so bright.

He untangled his hands from me and take a few steps back. Then swirled around with his arms wide open, eyes ranking every inch of this place, to the lined citrus trees, the green lawn, the white fence, and our bikes parked near it.

The melody of the birds flew up to us with the morning breeze.

"We need to leave…" Marty is saying. He walks over to the bike and I follow after him, soon getting on the bike just as he did.

When we ride past the familiar meadows and dandelion fields, without our usual laughs or mockings jangling in the air, I felt an ugly weight on my heart.

Even though no one is saying it out loud, the echo of "This would be a lifeless summer" is hard not to be heard…