In all honesty, you were the last person I expected to see there. But, there you were, standing on the top of the Eiffel Tower, your arms resting on the edge, as you gazed out at the city. You were the one person I thought I hated. The one person that I couldn’t even pretend to get along with.

Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything. Normally, I would have insulted you or made some sort of rude comment or at least walked away without saying a word. This was different, though. Monumentally so. As you stood there watching over the whole city, silent tears streamed down your face. To me you had always been strong. You had always seemed infallible. You had always been steadfast in your role as my rival. You had always been the last person I would expect to cry.

I walked toward you, my mind yelled for my feet to stop, but they moved of their own accord. I should have turned around. I should have walked away. I should have forgotten I ever say you standing there crying. But I didn’t.

Instead, I asked what was wrong. I saw you tense at the sound of my voice. Your back stiffened, your entire body went rigid, and for a brief moment I thought you were going to make a scathing remark about me sticking my nose into other people’s business. But it was different, just as I had suspected it would be. You watched me for a moment, as if to see I was sincere. I guess you decided I was because you let your shoulders slump almost imperceptibly before telling me that you had left her.

There was no doubt as to who you were talking about. You had been dating her for over a year. Everyone though you two would get married. Well, everyone except her apparently.

I didn’t say anything more. I just pulled you into a tight hug. You seemed surprised. I couldn’t blame you. I was surprised, too. What had happened to all the animosity? How had all those problems we’d had just faded into the past so quickly? I didn’t know and I didn’t particularly care.

Suddenly, all my prior opinions, all my misconceptions, all my hate, faded and it was just you. It was as if in that one moment, I saw the real you. Not the schoolyard enemy I’d had for so many years, not the asshole that had tried to make my life as close as possible to a living hell. Just a man like everybody else. Just you.

Almost an hour passed before you spoke again. You told me that you had to get back to your hotel and we made plans to meet the next day. No questions were asked about the sudden shift in our relationship, if you could call it that. Nothing was said about the way things had been between us. We had a silent agreement not to talk about, to just forget about it all.

I showed up at the meeting spot early, but you were already there. We spent the entire day together and not a word was spoken about how he had always acted together, just as I had expected. Our bitter rivalry seemed part of a distant past. Those feelings, that place, seemed a world away. I guess people had a point when they said there was a thin line between love and hate.

Nothing could touch us. We were free. Free from the expectations people had of us to fight and argue and bicker and hate. We were free from prior commitments and prying eyes. We were free from judgment and lies and everything we knew back home. We were free to be ourselves.

That week was both the longest and shortest of my life. It was beauty and it was pain. I wanted to stay there, with you, in Paris, forever, but it ended far too quickly. We had plane tickets and luggage and our flights home were quickly approaching. Soon we would be back. Back to the way we were. Back to reality. Back to a truth we couldn’t ever really escape. All we had were the few moments of freedom that Paris had afforded us. The dream was fading fast and it seemed as if reality was always just around the corner. Lurking, waiting to come crashing down on us. Every moment was bittersweet, knowing it couldn’t last.

The day we returned home was the hardest day of my life. We stood in the airport halfway between where our separate flights would be boarding. By sheer coincidence, they were boarding only a half an hour apart and we spent those last moments in the airport together.

“I love you.” My voice was quiet and trembling as I stared deep into your eyes, searching for the answer to all my problems.

“I love you, too. You have to go, though. Your plane will be boarding soon.” I nodded, but we both knew I had no inclination to leave. You pulled me into your warm embrace, kissing me firmly. All too soon it was over. “Goodbye,” you said.

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just picked up my bag, ignoring the tears streaming down my face. I didn’t get more than five feet before I dropped my bag and rushed back to you. You held me in your arms for a long time.

“Just know I love you,” you whispered in my ear. “No matter what happens. Nothing can change that. Nothing can take this away. We’ll always have this. We’ll always have Paris.”

I began to sob because I knew it was the end. I wanted to tell you we could stay like this. We could be like this forever, but it was ridiculous and I knew it.

You planted a kiss on my lips and I knew it was our last. It was time for me to go and I walked back to where I had carelessly dropped my bag. Picking it up, I turned around one last time. You stood there, in the middle of the airport, crying silently, yet harder than I’ve ever seen anyone cry in my life. If things hadn’t been so bad, I would have laughed at how you could look so dignified while crying your eyes out. I was sobbing as well, but I knew that we couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

The entire flight home your words replayed in my head. They were the only things that comforted me. The knowledge that no matter what happened, I would always have the memories of the happiest time of my life. The time I spent with you.