Partly mine, partly his.

In the Philippines, I met a boy. A boy that changed my entire Summer. Introduced by an older cousin, I had no expectations of a relationship, though everything changed so vastly in less than a month. The tables had turned and we began to have what was an exclusive relationship. We'd meet every afternoon on his verandah as it was his alternate turn to look after his family's chicken feed store. He'd tell me a variety of completely different stories during sunrise and sunset, and there I would sit beside him absolutely intrigued, like a dork reading a comic book. He rendered my ears useless as I heard nothing else but him, his voice. I wasn't in love, no. This was all just a fling, something more than friends, but not enough to be called his. I liked him, he was tall, dark and handsome. He was about 172cm, had brown, mesmerizing eyes, kind and soft, that seemed to blind me when I stared into them, and dark, husky, messy hair. Everyday I would see him in genuine smile, that deeply cut dimple on his left cheek increasing as he would show off his slightly crooked teeth. His adam's apple would move fast, the sound of his voice was deep and strong, and I had always beamed to hear more of it. He could sing, but was always too shy to do it for me. He played basketball, real hot (HAHA!), typical for a Filipino teenager, and everyday he wore a different coloured jersey. Just like my grandfather, he smelled of coffee and cigarettes, the quite addicting sensation. Moreover, he changed my whole perspective of man. The gentleman he was, knew how to treat a girl with respect even though he didn't understand how I was at times. He courted a girl like me the old fashioned way with flowers and constancy when he knew that coming from Australia, I was very modernized. This 17 year old boy, Mark Christian Libao, was one I thought I would ever only meet in my dreams.
Now that I'm back here, we hardly have time to communicate, to catch up and say a simple 'how are you?' The time differences and school make it all too hard. I miss him. But in the end, I can only consider him half a boyfriend, whatever that is. We never really spoke of ourselves as a couple, neither was there an 'official' relationship. I never had the chance to answer him, that time, and even today, I can't keep someone else out of my mind. I'm confused, yes. Long distance relationships aren't on my list, but I don't want to let him go so easily, I don't want to deny my infallible passion for him. He's the only other person I knew who loved me, for me. I still hear echoes of his voice as if I hadn't left him behind but like a winters breeze, he came and is now gone in a second's time with no trace of mercy. Tell me, is this degrading love story just a beautiful lie? If it is, I hope that past the distance, past the noise, it'll be a lie that will perpetually stay.