Never would I have thought that my pen pal from the 5th grade would be willing to keep talking with some German kid he doesn't know the face of.

We have been talking with each other since the assignment began 7 years ago. I was surprised when he actually responded to my letters each time, understanding each word I wrote. As awesome as I am, my handwriting was not.

His handwriting was sort of wobbly and small. So, I imagined that was what his voice was like. He was Canadian, so imagined his skin was as pale as the snow, or at least pretty close to it. He treated me like a best friend, like Liz used to. So I imagined he had emerald eyes and light brown locks, just like her.

I never really asked what he looked like, just imagined. And he did the same.

Matthew Williams was the one who really got me. He became my best and only friend. And soon enough, we exchanged phone numbers. His letters and text messages were one of the only things that kept me alive—but that's a story for another day.

We eventually decided that, once high school ended, we would buy ourselves an apartment. And after 4 years of anticipation, that day has finally arrived.

I fucking hate planes, but that was so worth the pain in my ear. I walked out of Terminal 3, only thinking about how I'm one step closer to seeing my best friend for the first time.

Well, I would see him, if I knew where he was. I should ask him where he is…

To: Birdie

Message: where art thou

I wait for a moment, and I get my reply. I've learnt that he's fast at texting.

From: Birdie

Message: Baggage claim. I'm in a corner near a window .I got Tim Hortons, btw, I hope you like white hot chocolate.

I start heading towards the baggage claim, and I notice that a couple of people are staring at me. Not surprising, my silvery hair and crimson eyes are extremely awesome. I choose to ignore the few peasants basking in my glory.

I look around for a bit, and my eyes lock onto the feminine-looking boy in the corner, red mittens holding up a small, paper coffee cup up to his lips, the steam fogging up his round, thin-wired glasses. His hair was blond, not too short, not too long, and the boy's skin was pale, like the snow that was visible through the window beside him. The sight of the boy made me… breathless. He was beautiful, and although that isn't how I pictured him, I knew it was the guy I was looking for.

I stepped towards him, and he didn't seem to notice my presence until I whispered, "Birdie?"

Matthew looked up at me, the steam that was covering his glasses fading away, and I saw his eyes brighten. They were lavender. Mattie smiled shyly.

"Why, hello, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Welcome to my country."

He sounded exactly like I thought he would. I would be lying if I said I didn't cry. They were manly tears, though!

He set his cup down and pulled me into a hug.

"Shh… I'm with you. It's okay, Gil." He reassured me with his quiet, angelic voice.

I didn't really believe him, because it was simply too good to be true. But once it finally sank in, I grinned like mad and I knew that we both wanted this moment to last forever.