II: Snowless Christmas Isnʻt A Big Problem

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"Hey, Peter,wake up." My best friend and now my travel partner whispered into my ear.

"It's just December 21st, Rick! Get back to bed." I grunted, and plopped my head back into the pillow.

It's gonna be the first year that I would have to celebrate Christmas away from my home, and honestly, my biggest wish at the moment is to sleep in for today, and started to mind the immense amount of homework and the project that my teacher had given to us to do over the week.

Well, that was more than enough to pull down my general mood. It also didn't help that I won't have the chance to have a white Christmas at all this year. And for a person who was from a white Christmas paradise like me, that would be a problem. A huge problem.

A pillow came in contact repeatedly into the back of my head, making me sit up and grunted:

"Okay, Richard, I literally needed my beauty sleep, so just get up and prepare your own breakfast, alright?"

I don't even acknowledge the fact that it is only days before Christmas, and we haven't really done much regarding our long break.

The funny thing about our friendship, is that it revolves around Christmas: we first met when our elementary school was having a Christmas play about Rudolph, the Red-Nose reindeer. I was one of the elves while Rick was Santa Claus himself, simply because he could mimic the laugh of the aged fellow.

The time that we actually went out as friends, was the Christmas Eve back when I was in 6th grade. The school had a small celebration for the new students, and instead of inviting anyone else I invited him, just because he always wanted to go, but never had anyone invited him to go to such celebrations.

Then we reached high school and became inseparable; we did practically all activities that we could do together: from having lunch at school, to going to prom together as friends. And you never thought so, but it was a really fun night. But the real fun and strange thing that happened that night is when Rick and I encountered some of the girls on our way home.

Usually, I wouldn't really mind them, since I understand they wanted me just because I have the looks of Prince Charming; but this time, I was concerned not just for the girls who are basically trying to get me, but also for Rick, who was starting to act completely ballistic when he saw them trying to get me to be with them: He actually grabbed my hand in his palms and gave them death glares, simply because they had flirted with a specific someone. I was more than thrilled seeing him like this, let alone being in this state of mind with anyone.

"Why would you do that, Rick?" I exclaimed.

I never thought that he would be that over-protective over me in cases like this one.

"Because, Pete," he said as we walked towards my home "You deserve someone who would say 'Hey Pete, I truly love you' behind you, not just in front of you."

That one sentence kept on messing around with my mind. However, back in freshman year, I considered him not just my best friend, but also my brother, so I just shrugged and reminding myself:

Maybe, I would find someone in high school. It's just...not right now. Nor that person is the one who said that she "loves" me in front of me.

That thought stuck with me, even until today, especially when the person who said that sentence three years ago was sitting right in front of me and is trying his best to make me get up and make breakfast against my will. I understand that I cook great breakfasts, but hello, I'm his friend, not his mother! I can't cook breakfast for him all the time!

"If you are trying to tell me you won't do breakfast, I've already dealt with it while you were still sleeping. And get to the dining table, the food is getting cold" Rick said, walking away in a hasty manner.

I tiredly get up, impressed with the fact that since the first day that we enter middle school that he actually cooked something that is not microwavable, and started to do the morning routine before going out for breakfast.

Set on the wooden azure-colored table was some Portuguese sausages, rice and eggs.

"Took you long enough. Now eat up, the food is getting cold" Rick gestured.

I don't have to wait for his persuasive speech to sit down and eat, while mentally scowling at myself, for believing the cliché that my friend- an athlete - didn't know much about Home Economics.

"So, what's the plan today?" I looked at him innocently. I do know that we would never just spend a day, judging that we are on vacation and have a lot of time to ourselves, as our parents are out for the day.

"You still have your manuscript to write, don't you Peter?" Richard said.

I shrugged."I understand." I said.

I smiled and sat down on the chair. The table was filled with sheets of my manuscript, while his ukulele was placed on the brown stool.

Usually, we would cause a lot of mischief in the house without our parents there; but today, we acted like we were Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift, writing the lyrics for Everything Has Changed. He has been everything but helpful during the whole process, which I found surprising from my athletic friend, who didn't understand Ethan Frome is a classic. Yet, he is still patient and caring enough to understand all of the dark humor and overly sappy romantic details that I put in my story, as well as my crappy writing style.

The sun was shining from the window into our room, and he started to strum a very well-known tune of the community:

I have seen and watched your loveliness,

The sweet rose of Maunawili.

And 'tis there the birds of love dwell,

And sip the honey from your lips.

"Who did the birds sip honey from?" I asked.

He shrugged: "Oh, no one. Don't mind it."

"No, really, who is that?" I insisted.

Then he sighed, and started to talk:"I have a crush. On a specific someone."

"Oh," I replied. "Mind telling me who? Or just tell me about that specific someone of yours."

He shyly smiled, then said: "He's like an angel: handsome, awfully nice, and absolutely talented."

I wouldn't blame him, for having a crush on someone like that.

"He is romantic and a person whose every word written in their stories whispered something mysterious, wild, beautiful and as deep as the Marianas. He always asks me to help him with his work, although I know that I would never, ever can write something as magnificent as he can."

Okay, now I was a little bit shocked by Richard's sudden fine word choice, along with his great knowledge base; after all this time, how could he ?

"And you know what's the greatest part?" he asked.

"What?"

"That person may not see this, but I have seen, adored and loved that person, regardless of how they are: from the lost look of their 6th grade self..."

I mentally gasped and held my breath at the same time.

"...To this one moment, when that person was sitting right here in front of me, in all of their beauty. And for the first time, I have actually fallen in love with that person. And I wouldn't ever regret that." He concluded his speech, and I felt blood rushing to my face.

He grinned, as I smiled and blushed like there is no tomorrow.

Our vacation in the paradise started with two single guys and their parents , and ended with two guys happily in love and their parents. What more could a person asked?

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