I remember one night in August.

You said I was your best friend. We were lying on the grass, watching the stars, and you said that to me. There were people around us; moths surrounding a bonfire, and yet I paid no attention to them. You were more beautiful than the stars, a true Narcissus, vain and proud, and I was the lake, admiring your beauty in each passing day. Pride and joy filled my veins as you said that and back then, I wanted nothing more than for the moment to freeze itself. For me to be in this bliss forever.

I remember one day in September.

It was raining. We were in that large, coldly bright room, huddled together to warm ourselves. You were still beautiful, and I was still admiring you. You spoke of the girl who stole your heart, the one from the Literature class. I knew her, and I knew that she wasn’t the perfect girl for you – no girl could match your beauty – but I couldn’t tell you that, and as I sat there listening to you I felt something within me crack. But I covered my pain, and pretended that everything was simply normal.

I remember one evening in October.

You were so happy when you told me of your first date with her. You barged into my apartment, hugged me and swung me around like a doll. You could barely speak from happiness, and I was pleased to see you like that. And yet, I had the uneasy feeling of impending disaster, and while I listened to your story I smiled and pretended to be happy for you. I was happy, but I was happy that you were, not for the fact of your date. I knew it was selfish of me, but I couldn’t come between you and her now. I couldn’t.

I remember one morning in November.

You got worse. She taught you how to drink, and now you’re an alcoholic. She brought you out to clubs, and now you’re a nocturnal insomniac. She persuaded you to skip classes, and that was what you were doing when I found you sprawled on the flat rooftop of our university. She was there, taking a swig of Hennessy’s, and you were spread-eagled, unconscious, and I was gazing at her and you, my fists clenched and resisting the urge to slap her into submission and take you home with me. And yet I did nothing.

I remember one dawn in December.

You were crying on my sofa, clutching the blue blanket I lent you last night. You said you were getting worse, and you wanted to stop. Stop being an alcoholic, being a nocturnal insomniac, being a class delinquent. You were pale and you threw up all day yesterday from the after-effects of alcohol withdrawal. You couldn’t sleep and I waited by your side all through the night, falling asleep only after you did. I woke up when I heard you crying, and once again my heart broke from seeing your distress.

I remember one twilight in January.

You got better. You quit drinking, you got back your sleeping routine and you were re-joining me in class again. I was happier than ever to see you back, I was happy as hell when you told her to disappear from your life. There you were again, sitting on my sofa, with that blue blanket that you un-officially claimed when you moved into my apartment wrapped around your shoulders, telling me about the constellation you saw when you looked out the window a few minutes ago and I couldn’t help thinking, this is the way it should be.

I remember all these memories now, as I stand in front your coffin, looking into it to see your beautiful face serene, free from any worries in the world. You died two days ago from heart failure; you were never really strong, but to me, you were the strongest man alive, for you had conquered more challenges than any other man would. I had known you for 9 years, and I had loved you from the first time I set my eyes upon you. You were my Narcissus, and I am your lake, weeping for your death. I had seen your beauty often, and yet I knew, that somewhere deep within your eyes you were seeing mine, and knowing that is enough for me to let you go without any regrets.