Like We Used To || Manuel Neuer

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           "You all set?"

My best friend hastily shoves the remnants of his clothes into his leather suitcase, thereafter ramming the piece of leather shut with a light shove. "I guess I am," he answers coolly, locking the suitcase.

"Is it selfish of me to wish that you aren't?"

Manuel chuckles, casually smothering my blonde hair with his pale hands, which's porcelain hue gleams in the intense lighting of the sun. "I'll be back before the year ends, Azelie," he assures with a calmness that I struggle to empathize with. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

The two of us are currently standing on Manuel's veranda, exchanging final goodbyes before he leaves for good, leaving behind our insipid city to pursue his relentless dreams. Unfortunately, his dreams are limited to achieving glory. When he closes his eyes, he envisions stadiums swarming with a palpable crowd and boundless prosperity. He does not see me.

I see him—I always have, for as far as I recall.

I met Manuel for the first time in nursery when I had been the only timid child in Gelsenkirchen. Our friendship had blossomed during the obstacles of naptime, when no one with the exception of Manuel had been aware of my occasional insomnia. He would sacrifice his napping hours to keep me company. I can still recall the two of us tucked under blankets in the napping hall, discussing everything and nothing at all.

For as long as we have been friends, Manu has understood me.

Now, it is my turn to understand him.

"I guess it's okay," I murmur with a faintly discernible reluctance.

A small smile materializes on the corner of Manuel's lips. "Help me out then?" he requests. "Move my luggage into the car while I say goodbye to everyone inside."

I stare at him, the gesture strained. "Fine."

Without uttering another word, Manuel hands me his suitcase. Only when its weight falls firmly onto my hands does it dawn on me how much of him I already miss. I need this boy. The majority of the hours in my day are squandered with him. How am I going to last an entire life without him?

I plod through the dirt on Manuel's front yard, reaching his car rather gingerly.

As I am sadly placing Manu's bags inside of his trunk with warm tears prickling on my eyes, I hear footsteps drawing towards me from behind. They toil onward until they are occupying the empty space beside me. When an agonizingly familiar scent of raspberries barrel into my nostrils, I already know who it is. I don't have to look around to guarantee that it's him.

"Promise me you'll call me every day," I demand, my eyes fixated on anything but Manuel. If I glance at him even only once, I will burst into inevitable tears.

"I promise," Manu answers, carelessly leaning forward and closing his trunk.

"And when you're a famous goalkeeper," I add. "Don't forget about me."

"Do you really think that I could forget you?" Manu retorts, tugging on one of my arms. When I don't answer, he adds, "Azelie. Come on. Look at me."

And so I do. I rotate my body ninety degrees, fixating my gaze on Manuel at last. From where I am standing—from where I've always stood—he looks so handsome. His dancing eyes glisten with a newfound determination, his stance resembling one that can effortlessly conquer the world. He delicately seizes my wrists, pulling me into him. "Don't look so sad," he murmurs, gently circling his arms around my waist. "You're making it hard for me to leave."

I swallow my anxiety in an attempt to release words, but merely a pathetic "Sorry" gets released.

"I'll call you every minute of every day," he reassures, releasing a wistful sigh onto my hair. "Trust me, Azelie, I'll call you to the point that you'll get annoyed and never want to hear my voice again."

I pull myself away from his embrace, raising a pinky. "Promise?"

Without a trace of hesitation, he entwines his pinky around mine. "I promise, love. I promise I won't forget you. Ever."

As our fingers part, I let myself believe him.