UNDER THE MOONLIGHT

“Why do I have a feeling that the song is for you?”

I rolled my eyes as one of our friends was happy enough to broadcast that to everyone on the table. It wasn’t actually a question but a statement that the rest of the group seem to agree with and that pissed me off just enough to look at you. The fact that you were looking at me didn’t help at all.

“And there goes the dagger eyes. You should probably get a license for that you know. That’s quite lethal. The last time you gave me that look, I swear I had nightmares for two days thinking that anytime, you’d appear in my room with a knife on one hand.” Another friend of ours added, making everyone else laugh.

I gave him the finger and gulped down the beer on my glass before motioning for the waiter to get me another one. Based on experience, talking only makes them dwell on the topic more so I chose silence. I just wished you did the same thing and stopped singing but you didn’t. Song after song, you sang.

Time seems to be moving so slowly with the conversation on the table shifting from one thing to another. You kept on singing all throughout, stopping just enough to take a sip of your beer once in a while. As for me, I’ve had enough beer to fill up a pail or two. If it was because my dad was an alcoholic making my tolerance level a little higher than normal through the genes he passed on to me or that I’m just a freak of nature, I don’t really care. I’m just relieved that every single time I didn’t want to talk; I can grab the glass and drink.

“Why are you drinking so much?” I stopped at mid-sip when I heard you ask me that question. Our table became unusually quiet at the same time. Instead of answering, I gulped down the rest of the beer and again ordered for a refill.

“Hey! Are you okay?” One of our friends asked. I just gave him the thumbs up and waited for my beer again. When the beer came, I downed it as fast as I can, left enough money on the table to cover my bill, and walked out. Too stunned to talk, our friends just watched me walk out of the bar.

The cold wind outside sent a shiver down my spine. I looked up and almost smiled when I saw the moon shining brightly in the night sky. I almost wish that I had my camera with me.

For some reason, the moon had always reminded me about what love is. What you see isn’t actually what you get. Most of the times, you just see the beauty of the light it emits, not really understanding the fact that it’s just borrowing its light from somewhere else.

“Can we walk home together?” Another chill run down my spine when I heard your voice. I turned around to see you standing about a few feet away from me.

“I can manage.” I said as coldly as I can, making you look away. That wasn’t a surprise. It was actually so typical of you that it started to get boring a long time ago. You pretending to care, however, was something new.

“You don’t have to put on a show you know. No one’s watching. You don’t have to pretend that you care. Caring is just way above you.” It would have been better if I was able to hide the bitterness in my voice. “What’s with this anyway? You didn’t say a thing when I started walking away so what’s the point of this show now? Why? Do you need someone to make you feel important again? If that’s the case then better look somewhere else because I am way over my charity limit already.”

“Is that all that I was for you? You’re charity case?” Your question almost made me laugh.

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

“I just want to know, damn it! You can’t just drop me like that and expect me to just keep quiet about it all!” The anger in your voice was surprising, that makes two surprises in one night. The ironic part is, if there’s one person who should be angry, that should be me, not you.

I gave out a sigh, smiled, and approached you. You were taken aback when I held your hands and looked you straight in the eyes. I glimpsed some spark of hope in those lovely pair that I used to let myself drown into.

“We do what we got to do, use what we got to use.” I said, echoing every single word that I heard you say before. I just didn’t expect that the pain I felt before could actually come crawling back in again, wave after wave.

I felt you stiffen with every word. A little feeling of triumph swept over me but it didn’t last long enough to keep the pain away.

“Sounds familiar?” I finished before letting go of your hands. I didn’t walk away though. I stayed where I was, just inches away from you. I wasn’t expecting a reply but I stayed to see you squirm. You answering after a while was yet again, another surprise.

“Would you at least let me explain?” Your voice was almost a whisper but I heard it clearly.

“Any word coming from you would be just like running water on an open drain. But go ahead, if it would make you feel a lot better. One of us owes to feel a lot better sooner or later anyway.” I said. I didn’t hear an explanation though. You kept your silence the way you always do. Makes me wonder why you asked to be given the chance to explain in the first place.

“We have two ways of ending this. First option is that we talk about it and I’d go crazy and probably push you in front of the next car driving through. The second option is that, I pretend that I don’t know you, you pretend that you don’t know me, and then I pretend that YOU never happened at all, meaning, I’m going to walk away and you’re not going to follow me and that every single time we meet, we pretend not to see each other. You choose because either of the two would work well for me.” I was almost out of breath when I finished talking.

You didn’t say anything right away but when you did, I can almost hear my heart breaking into tiny shards.

“Are you going to be okay?”

I took a deep breath before answering, fighting the tears that was starting to fall from my eyes.

“I will be.” I said. You just stood in front of me for a while. Probably running out of words to say, you went back into the bar.

Only then did I let the tears fall. I look up into the sky and smiled sadly at the moon.

Like most people, I feel in love with the moon.

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