Three words

As I walked up the flight of steps from the tube I could see you stood at the summit, the darkness of your silhouette contrasting with the bright white of the pale December sunshine.

You greeted me with a smile and a cheery “alreet”, in your northeastern burr which had always stood out among the estuary vowels of most of our fellow students.

It was one of the few times we had met off campus, despite “seeing each other” since the start of term.

You were 19 years old, yet to join the Army, yet to really even consider joining the Army. Our 20s still stretched out in front of us, in a vast swathe of uncharted waters and untold possibilities.

In those early days the following month would seem as far away as the next five years and we were both figuring out whether our two futures would entwine with one another or branch off in different and unexpected directions.

Before that December day I had never really considered that you just might be “the one”, this fair haired boy who seemed to have appeared from nowhere and charmed his way into my life.

I told my friends that it wasn’t serious, I wasn’t looking for anything long term, it was just a bit of fun.

But day by day it became harder to imagine my life without you in it.

So there we were, alone together despite the hoards of desperate shoppers clogging Oxford Street at they frantically searched for presents for their own loved ones.

It seems like a lifetime ago, and yet I remember the detail like it was yesterday.

I wore a pair of pale pink gloves, with beaded snowflakes stitched onto the backs of each hand while your yellow and blue university scarf protected you from the winter chill.

We walked hand in hand, peering into shop windows and talking for hours as the winter sun began to dip behind the London skyline.

Stepping away from the busy hustle and bustle we found ourselves on a side street, illuminated by the small frosted windows of the quieter shops and brightly coloured Christmas decorations hung overhead. I told you that it reminded me of Diagonal Alley from Harry Potter, only to correct myself and, in a desperate attempt to make myself sound like the English literature student I was, added “or Dickens”.

You stopped and your eyes met mine.

“I’m really going to have to get you a good present now,” you joked.

I asked why but you simply smiled and replied “just because”.

Hours later, back in the happy bubble of the university campus, we celebrated the end of term in the rowdy students union with our friends. Our two sports clubs shared a Christmas meal and though we were sat apart our eyes continuously met.

Escaping for a moment we ventured outside into the night air.

“Do you know what ‘because’ means?,” you asked. I nodded.

“I love you.”