Under The Moonlight

Hullo.

So a few weeks ago on 29th September, I went to my best friends' high school graduation (because we're no longer in the same school; plus, I graduated from high school over a year ago). The moment I arrived at the ceremony, I was washed away with lots of story ideas. Hence, the birth of this short story that I've been writing since 3rd October (didn't get to finish it till yesterday). 


So here you go, "Under The Moonlight". 


P.S. Dhiv, if you're reading this (of course you'll be reading this, I told you to), LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DOOOOOOO. 


*PLAYS "LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO" BY TAYLOR SWIFT ON FULL BLAST*

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This was a bad idea.
That was the first thought that came to my mind when I arrived at the park. The sun had only set a good fifteen minutes or so, but the sky was already splashed with ink. Fairy lights adorned the trees, twirling and dancing on the branches. Senior students dressed in fancy gowns and crisp tuxedos, looking professional underneath velvet red robes. The moon smiled brightly, almost as if it was proud to see all these students graduate tonight.
I stood there, hands wrapped around my arms under the chilly breeze. Autumn was coming, and I was dumb enough to forget my jacket at home. I looked down at what I was wearing, a baby blue sundress that flowed down right above my knees with a bow tied at the waist. I rubbed my face in frustration, careful to not ruin the intricate layer of powder. I couldn’t believe I let my sister do this to me again.
“You’re going to Taylor’s graduation!” she had said to me, dress and hairdryer in hand. “You’ve already looked like trash at your own graduation night, at least look decent at hers!”
At that moment, I thought, yes, it probably wouldn't hurt to wear something nice to my best friend's high school graduation instead of my usual sweaters (in which I wore a pair of leggings and hoodie to my own school graduation).
But now, I take it all back.
"Chrissy!" a voice cried, pulling me into a bear hug. I stiffened at first, but relaxed once I breathed in the familiar strawberry scent. It was my garden, my guardian, my soulmate. It was my bestest friend in the whole world, Taylor. I sunk in deeper into her arms at the thought. I missed her.
“I haven’t seen you in ages!” she said, pulling away to take a good look at me, jaw dropping when she did.
"Thea," I rolled my eyes. It wasn't everyday you see your nerd of a best friend show up to your high school graduation dressed like she was going to star in the world's best music video.
“She did a really good job,” she nodded in approval, twirling a finger around my strands of dark hair. “Even your hair looks great.”
“I guess so,” I shrugged, pulling her prying hands away from my head.
“You look great too.” My eyes fell to her peach colored dress, the smooth fabric glowing under the moonlight.
“I decided to go for something minimalistic.” she said, swishing her dress around as if she’d never done it before.     
“But never as pretty as you,” her eyes softened at me, a fond smile appearing on her rose coated lips. “Sometimes I wish I had a fashion designer as a sister.”
“Well you’re lucky you don’t,” I crossed my arms, recalling all the times Thea called me over to be her makeshift mannequin for her latest designs.
“Anyway, I’m pretty sure you’d like to meet the rest whom you’ve never seen since ninth grade right?”
I backtracked. “Uh no, I think I’m good here-”
It was too late. Her arm was already locked with mine.
With a sigh, I let myself be dragged from person to person, some whom I managed to make small talk with, some who had grown significantly for the past four years since I've been here, and some I couldn't remember at all.
Then I saw him.
Wrinkled dress shirt and tie. He was by the food table with his classmates, cup in hand, sipping its contents in between words. Probably soya milk. The school always had a thing for the protein-concentrated drink and would serve it instead of the usual fruit punch. Then he paused and ran a hand through his dark hair.
Something jolted in my chest.
“Chrissy you’ve gotta help me, my makeup is dying!” Taylor cried, pulling me towards the school to use the girl’s restroom.
In that moment in time, his eyes caught mine. His eyebrows raised simultaneously, a silent greeting of the eyes. I returned the gesture, and gave him a smile before being pushed through the school doors.
We got out just in time for Taylor to shuffle in between her classmates, where everyone was lined in an uneven zig-zag to receive their graduation certificates onstage. I sighed for the umpteenth time that night, retreating to my seat where Taylor’s family was.
“Where were you two?” Taylor’s mom hissed between ruby lips, a color, no doubt, took ages to apply until it was just right. I fought an urge to sigh again. Like mother, like daughter.  
“We were fixing her makeup,” I told her. “She accidentally smeared her lip gloss on her sleeve and her eyeshadow was fading.”
I saved the part where she ended up crying at how her makeup was completely ruined and how hideous she was going to look for the rest of the night. I found it funny that I was the one worried at how late she was going to be for her graduation. We spent the next half an hour re-doing her makeup, which included a layer of foundation, three layers of powder, and countless strokes of her blusher.
Did I mention that she was very particular of the symmetricity of her eyeliner? Both sides had to be on point: the same thickness, the same length, the same “flick”. Don’t even get me started on how long she took to apply just one layer of lip gloss. She even had the audacity to mix her beige eyeshadow with her gold one. “A little creativity wouldn’t hurt, would it?” she had said, dusting the color on her eyelids.    
“It would if you’re going to be late for your own graduation.” I rebuffed before dragging her out the restroom.
Mrs. Melby sighed. “We should really keep an eye on her.” She rubbed her temples as if the mere thought was enough to give her a major migraine. “What if she accidentally splashes herself with water the next time she goes out for an event? Her mascara would be completely ruined!”
Mr. Melby eyed me from the corner of his eye, amusement twinkling in them. He rolled his ocean blue sapphires, a trait my best friend had flawlessly inherited. I stifled a giggle, relieved that I wasn’t the only one who found the Melby women’s obsession over make up ridiculous.
“Taylor Melby.” the Master of Ceremony announced through the microphone. We watched her walk up the stage with vigorous confidence, and curtsied before the headmaster with such grace that I nearly mistook her for a princess.
“That’s our Taylor,” Mrs. Melby said proudly, clapping her hands like never before. If I squinted correctly, I could probably see Mr. Melby wiping a tear from his eyes.
I smiled. Yes, I thought, a sense of pride blooming in my chest before scattering throughout my bones. That’s our Taylor. Not a minute later, the young Miss Melby was hurrying towards us as quickly as she shuffled into position not too long ago, hopping into her parents’ arms with unshed tears brimming in her beautiful blues. I sniffed at the scene before me, fighting the urge to unleash a few tears of my own. Ah who cares, I decided as tiny streaks of tears streamed down my cheeks. I was too happy for her to not cry.
"Dan Harraway."
I stiffened at the name. His name.
I barely noticed myself turning my attention to the stage, where he shuffled awkwardly up the steps towards the school headmaster. He bowed down, dutifully and low, like a knight ready to serve his king. His lips curled into a sincerely grateful "thank you", a promise to return if the headmaster were to need any help. He was loyal like that.
"Can't stop staring at loverboy, hm?" Taylor wiggled an eyebrow at me. I shrunk bashfully, a reaction no one could ever pull out of me, until I met him.
Wait.
"Loverboy?" I spluttered. What in the world did she mean by that?
"Yeah," she gave a shrug. "The boy's head over heels for you, don't you know?"
If I was bashful then, I was definitely embarrassed now. It was then when the perfectionist of a blonde decided to take advantage of the situation. “Aww, lovergirl is blushing.” she cooed.
I scrunched my nose up at the name. “That’s the most unoriginal thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, I’m not the creative one between us two; you are.” Taylor pointed out. “You were the one who made him all those gifts, remember? I was just the mailman.”
I tried to not recall all those times where I spent hours making a pencil case with his initials sewed in the front, or that time when I took three days writing a song for his sixteenth birthday, nor that time when I specifically ordered a button badge of his favourite YouTuber.
Before I could deliver an empty rebuttal, a sudden “Ah!” escaped her lips, before taking me by the arm and dragging me towards a bunch of seniors dressed in exhilaration and freedom, towards a boy randomly flapping his arms around like a flightless bird.
Towards him.  
“Hey guys!” Taylor greeted with a wide smile, an expression I knew all too well. She was up to something.
“Mind if we take a few pictures with you guys before we say our goodbyes?” she chirped, phone ready in hand.
“Sure,” they nodded, moving into a straight line for the photographer (Basically a random student they forced to be their photographer. Poor guy.). I stood at the end, right next to Taylor, afraid to talk to the people whose names I didn’t think I could even remember right.
After a click of the camera, I noticed a faint smell of baby oil. That wasn’t what Taylor smelled like. Taylor’s scent was pink, purely strawberry and bought from the same shop she would always drag me to. This was rather light and innocent, free from impurities and conflict. It wrapped me up in a blanket and took me back in time to my childhood, a smell that I grew to love.
It was his scent.
I peeked to my right, hoping that my nose was simply playing tricks on me. It wasn’t. The sloppily ironed slacks was enough to tell me that my best friend wasn’t where she was supposed to be. My eyes slid to his side, where Taylor stood with a smirk on her lips and gave me a thumbs up.   
She switched places with him.
That sneaky blonde-
I was definitely going to get her back for this once this was over. The moment this photo session ends, I would pounce on that scheming traitor and splash water all over her makeup. That would teach her not to play matchmaker with her own best friend.
I guess luck wasn’t on my side tonight, because right after the third click of the camera, the phone jammed. Everyone was stuck waiting for him to fix it since that was the only phone with the best camera. I was determined to not move a muscle and maintain the awkward smile on my face despite it all. But he turned, looking down at me with an indescribable sparkle in his eyes. A look that seeped down into my veins and left traces of him in its wake, searching for my soul. And in this moment, I was positive that he could.
“Hi,” he whispered, just enough for me to hear. It was soft, like the fluffy cat pillow he gave me for my fifteenth birthday. My heart couldn’t help but melt at the thought, he was always so sweet.
“Hi,” I breathed out.

“Happy Graduation Day,” he said, pulling out a leaf from his pocket. My eyebrows furrowed at it, perplexed as to why he would have such a thing so carefully kept in his care. Then I took a really good look at it.
It wasn’t just any leaf, it was a leaf belonging to the Chrysanthemum flower, my favourite plant. It was what he used to call me when we were younger. My fingers trembled as I wrapped a hand around the leaf, enclosing his hand within mine.
“But it’s not my graduation day, silly.” I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
He smiled, honest and happy. “I know.”
It was right then, that I realized how much I loved this boy. His strange quirks, his awkward shuffles in the background, his shy side he almost never shows- all of it. It wasn’t a silly crush, nor was I another girl in love.
I knew, from the depths of my soul, that he was someone I would love till the end of time.
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Okay so, I don't know if this is considered as a cheesy story or whatnot but I can definitely picture my OTPs like this (*starts fangirling*). 

Anyway, yes, I am aware that this is a romance story (-ish) and though I'm not a fan of the genre (unless it comes to my OTP), I just thought it was rather necessary to get this story out of my head. 

Hope you liked it and I'll see you soon. Bye bye. 

*narrows eyes at Dhiv*

- Nukey

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