I still remember our first hug in eighth grade. It wasn't anything special to anyone else—just a quick embrace marking the start of a new friendship between strangers. At that time, I felt out of place in a new environment, with only books as my companions. They were my solace, taking me on journeys with mythical beings and mundane romances, while I sought my place in the world.
As months passed, our hugs lingered. With you and our friends, we slowly built a new family, one I hoped would last a lifetime. The summer that followed was significant for me; it was when I first realized my feelings for you, though I didn't yet know how to name them. Watching you with your partner helped me suppress these budding emotions, yet the bookworm in me couldn't stop crafting perfect confessions for you—words I wished I could profess during early school mornings.
Yes, it took me long to finally proclaim my affections for you, and I know it took you even longer to realize you felt the same about me. Those hugs were my salvation through it all, a source of comfort that you didn't even know you provided.