Starry Night - Extended

The crowd around me was a distant echo when I saw you staring back at me. How you laughed with the horse beside you felt mesmerizing and enchanting—time seemed to slow down when you walked towards me.

I met that smile of yours once. In India, during Diwali. And, like the Diwali Festival, you had this glow that my heart has memorized a thousand times. Everything about you since then hasn’t changed, save for you, trading off that white kurta with a blue sweater, which matched your eyes perfectly.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you since last year, Vic!” You waved at me, and I died a little with your French accent. I waved back at you. I even managed to put out a “hey.”

“So, how are you so far?” You asked. “Draw any handsome strangers as of late?”

I felt my face heat up. You remembered the fact that I drew you during Diwali. Afterward, I showed it to you. I remembered that your frown slowly turned into a smile when I showed it to you. And that was the start of our friendship.

“Well, I’m doing fine.” No, I haven't found anyone as handsome as you. “How about you? Anything new?”

A smirk lined your face. “Well, I’m now a published author. Since we last saw each other, I’ve published the book I always wanted to write.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Publishing was always tricky, especially for starting authors. And yet you managed to do it. “It was titled Whispers from Nobody, right?”

"Well, I'm flattered that you remembered!" You said.

Before I asked another question, I felt my wrist vibrate. I checked my watch to find an alarm read: Prepare Home for Dad.

I coughed a bit. “I’m sorry. I would love to catch up some more, but I have to prepare my house for my dad. He’s coming home from Mars.”

“That’s ok.” You put your hands in your pocket. “I have to go home soon as well.”

“You moved here?” I asked, and you nodded.

“Yep. I thought a new change of pace would be nice, so I moved here.” You said.

“So, where do you live now?”

I learned that you lived around the street where I live. You lived on top of the Oak Tree on the Roundabout. Since we lived close, you offered to take me home.

Soon, we were side by side. The moons above were bright enough that the light from other lamp posts seemed unnecessary.

“So,” I said, trying to mentally block out the sound of macaws from afar. “What’s your next book?”

“Oh.” You smiled. “It’s a poem book for my father.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really.” You replied, looking up at the stars. “We never had enough, you know? My father was a struggling florist in Metro City. Yet he always wanted me to pursue my dreams. While we lived a cozy life thanks to his contributions to Sequoia planting, I always wanted to repay him for everything. And I think this book might be it.”

“Your father sounds like a great man. I would love to meet him one day.” I said.

“Of course he is. After all, I must thank the person who gave me this face.” You winked, and I laughed.

“But can you promise me something?”

“What?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Can you promise to sign me a copy of your second book?” I smiled. “Once it gets released, of course.”

“Well, duh.” You teased me by punching me in the arm. “You’ll be one of the first in my book.”

“And when it comes out, your book will be the first I read,” I punched your arm in return.

“It better be.” You laughed.

“Of course it is. I make handsome authors like you a priority.” A statement never more embarrassing just escaped my lips. But the blush on your face made it worth the risk.

Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. “The sky is beautiful tonight.”

My eyes widened when I looked at the sky for a second time. Each shade of blue and yellow was like brushstrokes that blended to make a harmony of colors that filled up the sky. The two aureate moons in the sky twisted along with the blues.

When I glanced back at you, your eyes seemed to shimmer with the stars above as if you were part of the masterpiece.

“Yeah, it is," I grinned.

When you finally gazed back at me, my cheeks were on fire.

“Anyways,” I glanced back at the sidewalk. “My house is just a few blocks more.”

“Oh, right.” That was all you said before we both started to walk again. This time, the silence permeated between us like a little parasite. I almost wanted to open my mouth again to say something, but you were still looking at the sky in awe. So, this time, I allowed the silence between us, which stood between us until we reached my house.

“So, here we are!” I stood in front of my walkway.

“You lived here?” You asked.

“Yep!” I said, feeling my chest grow tighter at the thought of leaving you. “Anyways, thank you for walking me home. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Your eyes were glued somewhere far away.

“Anyways, goodbye,” I waved at you. “Take care on your way home!”

“Can we do this again?” You stared at me. “Like, talk again.”

I giggled. “Of course, we can.”

Your face made me laugh when it grew even redder than your hair. Your hand reached down to your pockets and pulled out a strip of paper.

“Call me.” You muttered.

“Oh? Where was all that bravado just now?” I laughed as I took the strip of paper from your hand.

“I think I lost it when you smiled at me like that.” You looked back at me, and it was my turn for my face to heat up again.

“Well, bye! Hope you find it again!” I walked to the front of my door. I wanted to die on the inside again.

“Bye!” You said in the distance as I finally opened the door to my house, hoping to call you once I finally got inside.

…

A dark ceiling greeted me instead of a living room. Following it was a pang of grogginess that hit my chest. I looked at my alarm, which read “4:33 AM”.

“Wait, what about you?” I grabbed my phone. The light blinded me when I turned on my phone. I checked my contacts, searching for your name in my memories. But all I got was-

I felt my heart crumble along with my phone. I combed through all my memories, but all I had of you was the dream. As I stared at the dawn cracks, I realized I had spent the night watching romance movies. I was never at a party. I have never been to India to experience the Diwali Festival. My dad wasn’t an astronaut coming back from Mars. There were no macaws or oak trees. Even the painted heavens were a wishful dream.

But what crumbled my chest most of all was the fact that I had never met a passionate, red-headed author. I never met you, for how can you meet someone who never existed?