Crescent Moons and the Lunatics

Photo by Alexander A. on Unsplash

“Hey. Let me see the photos.” Enthusiastic as he had just finished a photoshoot, Beam urged Paul to give him his camera. However, Paul seemed to reject his seemingly forceful request as he was shaking his head while checking the photos from the camera.

Similar to Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks painting except for the number of people, this restaurant tonight was packed with university students and some families with their children, resulting in endless noises that both of them had to shout when speaking. Everyone’s private conversation was dispersed, amalgamating into one scattered narrative.

“Please. Please. Please. Please. Pleaseeeeee,” said Beam, still badgering him.

“Nah. Until I retouch them.” He looked so concentrated as though trying to look at a flock of stars without a telescope. Overwhelmed by a smile from the person in the pictures, without realising it, a crescent moon was brought onto his oval face. Smiling appeared to be transmissible, at least for him. Paul instantly raised his head to check whether the person in front of him saw his crescent moon.

“Fine,” said Beam with a little pout, which seemed to be so endearing to Paul.

Unable to cope with Beam’s cheeks, Paul began another conversation, “You’re still the same.” “Isn’t that good?” Of course, it was, he thought. Paul responded nothing but chuckled.

“Are you tired? You’d worn that gown the whole day.” He grabbed a pair of chopsticks, picking up a sliced sashimi salmon and placed it on Beam’s dish. “I remember you like it.”

Did not expect his long-lost friend’s hospitality, he was quite surprised, unable to react. He gradually lowered his head, trying to hide his nervous eyes, reddish cheeks, and another crescent moon. There had been three crescent moons already tonight. Maybe the others were about to be discovered sooner or later. “You’re still the same, too,” said this fresh graduate after pretending to look busy in his rigmarole for so long. And I know you did not like wasabi.

They continued their dinner, letting the uncomfortable silence to possess their dinner table. Four years of separation, in a way, grew them apart little by little; however, it cannot be said that they no longer missed each other. They just lived on opposite sides of the same moon. Maybe that cliche saying “love you to the moon and back” was originally derived by them.

“Look at the moon. A smiley moon,” said Paul, pointing his left index finger towards the dark clear sky to the first and ever moon.

They were like lunatics, really, hurting each other’s feelings as well as loving, sometimes craving, as if they were a couple of champagne glasses that could be melted and recycled. No, they were not. They were just kintsugi-like glasses adhered by their own tears.

---

They had finished the meal but did not dare to speak to each other. It’d be better just to listen to other people’s stories at this moment, they believed.

“Can I have a word?” Eventually, someone just said something. “Honestly, I miss the time when we were in high school. I do really miss it. You know what? I even think you wouldn’t want to see me anymore when you went to Chiangmai. I did go to the reunion every year, but you never showed up. You haven’t even contacted me.” He was serious at this time, unashamed to expose his vulnerability before him.

They were friends on Facebook, knew each other’s telephone number by heart, even secretly put each other in a one-and-only-close-friend list on Instagram, daydreaming that their Instagram stories would be seen by their significant other.

“You haven’t contacted me as well,” said the photographer. He had missed him so badly but his feeling was so overwhelmed that he did not know how to pour it out. A glitter of tears on his eyes began to overflow no matter how hard he tried to defeat the law of gravity.

Beam said with a trembling voice, “I’m sorry. Truly.” He shed his tears, never noticed them until his previous statement. “Can we just...start it again? Promise me that we are not gonna hurt each other again,” he begged while moving his right hand to touch his left hand. Paul still wore his bracelet, so did he.

“I can’t. I’m not sure if I...if we can do it. Even if we try not to, but there’s still a chance...” He paused. “I...I...I just... don’t wanna hurt you anymore, even unintentionally.”

“If only we try harder...” Beam still persisted. For Paul, it was redolent of the last time they discussed this same matter.

“We can be best friends. Like best of the best in the whole world friends,” said Paul with a melancholic smile. this time, it was he who gripped Beam’s hand. “We aren’t here only just to cry, right?” He chuckled. That was the most sorrowful chuckling ever.

A group of white cotton candy clouds was slowly concealing the crescent moon. On the left and right side of the moon, two stars arduously twinkled their white light against the upcoming darkness. They walked out of the restaurant, heading to the Skytrain station.

---

“Maybe it’s time to say goodbye,” said Paul. He gave him one more gentle smile, the one that he would give to the one and only Beam.

“Promise me we will never lose each other’s touches again. Just never let me go.” Those sparkling eyes of him were the most charming ones Paul would never forget.

“Never let me go,” replied Paul.

“See you on commencement day. My best photographer ever!”

Not knowing who started first, they began to get closer and embraced each other. That overwhelming feeling. That sense of touch. They did not know how much they had been craving for each other until that moment.