1 The Open Gates (I, II, III)

I

It was a bright Saturday afternoon and a very special day for Micael. One must be happy , most definitely, because of his high school graduation. As far as he could remember, he was not really expecting to even graduate in the most sophisticated way possible for he was not really studying and only cared of his peers and wants.

"What's the matter, honey?" said his mother right before their line was called. "Nothing. I am just so happy to graduate and make you and dad proud," he uttered. He looked upon the white and blue garlands which had adorned the sides and aisle of the auditorium and verily noticed the signage posted at the front of the gym saying: Welcome, graduates! May the commencement today foresee the journey beyond.

Upon looking around meticulously, he found his classmates waving at him (they were arranged alphabetically, which were way far than his) and he gracefully waved back, trying to decode what they were saying that time; the crowd got loud from a performance of Armes Beaumont, who had a great taste for what it seems to be old music but a very angelic voice to start with. "Are you bored, Mic?" said his father having the same regards inside his head. "Because of the songs he's singing? Not at all, dad," he replied and followed: "I mean, he's got the voice of a damn angel." After what it seemed to be a very great performance, the emcees finally went forward to the graduation rites, where everyone was surely excited to be involved in. "This will surely be a tiresome and a beautiful day in one, right, Micael?" said his seatmate, who he only knew because of their Physics class where they both failed. "Uh-huh. I mean, who mustn't be happy, Jake," Micael replied and they both followed a laugh reminiscing what they cowardly did just to take a passing grade from Mr. Watsons. "Remember the day when we tripped Mr. Watsons in the bridge and he fell down the muddy water?" said Jake while hysterically laughing, which buggered those who are listening to the emcee's talk-abouts. "IT was the very of our semester," obnoxiously uttered by Micael and also, followed by a very loud laugh which captured the very eyes of some teachers (they were more than glad that Mr. Watsons was not there, not because of he was diagnosed with Tuberculosis but because he was literally not in the ceremonial rites, or else they were dead sheep by that time) because of how they were bothering the latter of the students around them as well as the parents who attended to see their respective boys and girls hoist sweet success.

"Oh, here she comes, mate."

"Who?"

"Look!"

Micael was confused by the way Jake suddenly reacted over something.

What the hell is he even talking about? Or pointing to? 'twas Micael's mind running unto and then without any mere hesitation, he looked towards where Jake was pointing his index finger at. "Let me just wear my glasses, mate." Micael said (he is near-sighted, just so you know). He quickly reached inside his brown leather bag and searched for his glasses, only to find out that it was in his mother's. "Hold on one second, Jake. I will talk to mom first," he embarrassingly followed. "I know you are looking for your glasses, honey," enunciated by his mother and quickly handed his glasses to him, as if one's mother could hear every voice of their children with most accuracy. As far as Jake could remember, Micael had this 'reading specs'-looking glasses with a metallic fame and a quite astounding capability of making him good-looking.

Only if Micael wasn't really near-sighted at all, one would haven't waste time to see such beautiful lassie was the words circulating inside his mind, let alone the thoughts one cannot even articulate in front of Micael. Jake watched closely as Micael went back to his seat, as his parents sat on the other side of the auditorium, and quickly went back to business. "There she is now," said Jake and pointed his index finger towards the front right corner of the auditorium. "You see her now?" Jake frustratedly articulated. "I see," Micael replied and followed: "What's her name again? Her face and hair are familiar, mate. Maybe because she lives next block on our street or?" Micael surely had a good sense of taste of memory, I guarantee. "She does live next block to ours and her name is-" Jake replied and abruptly cut by Micael and started to point out names randomly.

"Rebecca?"

"No."

"Austine?"

"Of course, no."

"How about Alexandra?"

"No!"

Before Jake knew it, Micael called it a day on trying to guess the name of the gal in a cream dress wearing a beautiful braid in his head, and a cream fedora to match. "Her name is Cate. Cate Williams," said Jake in a quite manner. "She is the sister of Keith, huh?" Micael replied. "A twin to be exact twice. And stop looking, we have been dating for quite some time." "Knicks on you, mate. But, yeah, you do look good with that kind of hair and," said Micael whilst looking at Jake from his messy hair to his leather chelsea boots he decided to wear at the rites. "You are so much damn lucky and a very handsome guy!" Micael followed. "And if I were you, I'd rather stop mumbling 'cause everything's about a start, mate. Congrats to you," Jake uttered while the very anthem of almost every graduation was playing (Pomps and Circumstance), the reason why Micael was not able to utter a single reply, or even a nod.

"G'day, ladies and gents! Today, we uphold the very generation of this school and foresee the dreams of its students to slowly unfold in front of their very eyes…"

The emcees surely are prepared for this program. I mean, the graduation had just started 20 past 1, a 20-minute late program, I presume. This is a kind of program that I would lose attention, interest, and eventually myself in the process. I am so close on losing my hearing as I cannot decipher any of their talk-abouts. Micael's unattended mind was all but running around thoughts that made him think of this very graduation, how completely worthy he was hoisting success and some of the latter. He quickly got himself a paper and a pen to write something about anything under the sun, as far as his life was concerned, he was a good writer and he oftentimes owe that privilege to the Knock-Knock guy, Shakespeare, since he was fond of reading William's books when he was just a child and later on decided to create some poetic masterpieces.

"Such is… the privi…"

"A wonderful blessi… from those above…"

"That's a very nice hobby of yours,"

Micael was dazzled by the voice who uttered right beside his right ear. It was of very unfamiliar voice and without mere hesitation, he decided to check and see if the face was at least familiar. "Oh! You are-" "Indeed, how was your day so far?" Micael was surprised because he did not know that Anna, his classmate in Chemistry class and whom liked by him, was just sitting before him and Jake, who then went for a walk. "The girl you are pertaining to in that poem sure is lucky," she followed. "I… uh… yeah. She must be lucky." Anna patted Micael's shoulders and uttered: "Hey, you better get going because they will start calling the graduate in a couple of seconds. You look great by the way, and, I love your glasses," and smiled gracefully in the very front of Micael's face. He was stunned of what Anna just said to him; it almost feels like one's dreaming and deep inside, his spirit is dancing with tremendous glee. "Thanks. You too, Anna. You look great, as always," he replied and smiled afterwards.

II

It was it that very moment where Micael realized the great potential of himself across the very globe. Since there were only about a hundred or two graduating, it had been going on a speedy pace. "One line less and we are in that effin' stage, mate! Aren't you excited?" said Jake. Micael wasn't able to utter an immediate reply because he was incredibly stunned of how the rites is being held before his eyes. "Micael?" Jake said again. "Uh, yeah. More than excited, mate," and finally, Micael replied and then went back on the mesmerizing feat in the stage.

"And now, for the class of Mr. Watsons…"

It was everyone's game when Micael's line was called by Dr. Peeks, the school Principal and a dear friend of Micael's parents (he was always at his office), not to mention that the school's president was also in the same page as his father. Micael looked about their line and had immediately seen the joy and celebration within everyone's eyes. The jumping, the screaming, the dancing all because they all looked like at Cloud Nine. And ultimately, even Micael could not contain himself and jumped gracefully and sang whilst doing so. It was so melodic even Jake was not really at the time to think 'twas really Micael singing.

After seemingly forever, Micael done himself, fixed his hair, re-knotted his tie, wiped the sweat dripping on his face because of the excitement not so well-contained, and moved forward to the stage, meeting his dear parents halfway.

"This is it, honey. The moment you've been waiting for," said his mother. And even without the dearest reply, Micael gave a full smile back to his parents and the tightest hug one could give in that wonderful moment. He looked back to their seats, and became excited not only because of the memories but also of the time (they are seated last, so apparently, they will be dismissed soon after), which gave him much happiness. One mustn't be sad when your graduation and your birthday occurs in the same day, right? If one would not concur, so wouldn't everyone.

At the very first, it took like forever on Micael's waiting to hoist finally the hardships he had overcome. And then, the principal enunciated the name before his, and it was Jake's.

"Jake Porter, please come on stage." The way the principal had spoken his name seemed like he was indeed his favorite student after all, though I consider him as someone I am closely related into, one cannot forget the stupidity and bravery that we both have been doing all throughout our high school life here in Melbourne. Oh, how time had passed by so quickly than one's blink.

"Micael Pratt," followed by the drop of the drums and screams of woodwinds playing.

And his name was called. At first, he thought: He might pronounce my name as Michelle instead of Micael, which is more like Michael. He walked upstairs the stage with his parents, who were very happy for him. Who wouldn't be happy, right? Before reaching the school president, his father incessantly fixed his suit and tie, done his curly-wavy brown hair (as opposed to Micael having a wavy hair, next to his mother), and did some internal phonetics to avoid any irrevocable mistakes, since his dad was quite nervous in front of people with fame in their name.

His mother, on the other side of the spectrum, was just happy of how she looked like even in the front of a lot, I mean a LOT, of people. She just wore a bland white dress, a cream-like white bag on her left hand, An old watch on his right wrist and hand of his son on her right. Micael looked at his mother, from her very done hair and a greatly-polished heels, and said whilst walking: "Why are you so beautiful like that, mother? That is really why father can't leave you out in a while." "Oh, Micael. That is also why I love you like that," his mother replied while being kissed by Micael in the head, as his mother's height fell short on his, a mere 6 inches to be exact. After some steps and more, they have finally reached the school president, who wore the same, generic uniform that he does all year long. Nevertheless, it was still a great experience for Micael.

"Congratulations, Micael. See you on the other side," he said.

"Thank you, m'lord," his mother uttered right before Micael could.

"Me t-" Micael followed but then immediately cut again by his father: "It is our greatest pleasure, sir." Out in the open, the school president, as Micael's father and him were great friends, remembered the omnibus company that they have on afar, the United Kingdom. "How's your omnibus company going in Southwark, Louis?" said the president. "It's doing great! I mean, me and my wife are planning to move there so that we can handle it more efficiently. And of course, we want our son to take degrees in Great Britain," the father replied. "I see. Does that sound piece of advice, Micael? I bet you love traveling as well," the president gladfully followed.

I can ascertain that father and the president quite talk a lot about things in life. I mean, I have never told anyone that I love to travel and stuff, and given the fair distance, that must have come from my very father's mouth. This must be the weirdest seat I have ever sat unto, if there's any. I mean, knees sweating and my spine frantically dancing won't keep one a fair posture, right?

'twas then and that Micael finally come to at least talk a little, as seemed like he was thinking of something deep and out of the ordinary. "I do love traveling, and that must came from father's," he said. He then looked about the back of the auditorium at the stage's front, where he saw his friends calling for him to take a snap. "We better be going, father." "Uh, yeah," his father replied and went down the stage while the other graduates were giving them a lot of applauses which echoed around the four walls of the auditorium. On their way to the entrance of the auditorium to take some time, 'twas like the 100th replay of Pomps and Circumstance which rendered Micael horrendous and out of taste in his place. It also kind of made him shrug a little as it started crawling down his spine. "Micael!" an almost indiscernible tone shouted from afar, and it was Keith. "Mother, meet me outside, I will just check on my mates," he said. It was unclear whether his parents even tried to utter words or just gave him a big kiss on his forehead, but he rushed to his classmates nonetheless.

'twas the greatest times and the littlest of errors among others that one would not be missing. "YOU should be in this group, mate!" Keith followed as Micael approached them from afar. "What's your talk-abouts 'round here?" Micael uttered as he was able to hear the murmurs they were producing. "Do you think we do not know? Your parents told us to come to your burger party," said Cate. "Oh, did mother informed all of you? About to-" said Micael and cut immediately by someone he had acquainted with back Biology class (he's a close friend of Keith, at least). "May I come-not?" he said. "Of course! Why wouldn't you even come, right? It's a party after all. What's your name again?"

"Harry, mate. Harry Watts."

"What a lovely name. I thought you were about to say Watsons."

And then everyone laughed in the latter. They all got their uniforms back to the school, as they were just borrowed, and then Micael uttered: "Should we call it a go?" "Hell, yeah!"

III

I was seven past six when they all arrived in Micael's house. It was very peaceful and though the graduation alone was a tiresome program, no one put Micael's birthday celebration into their excuse. Everyone from his circle of friends was there for they all knew that Micael and his parents would move to the United Kingdom in a day or two.

Present were Keith, Cate, Jake, Harry, Anna, Nick (nicknamed Knickers, Micael met this guy during PE class because this guy was as weak as him when it comes to fitness), and Jacob (a guy he met during Calculus class because of his cognitive attainment in that helluva subject).

"What's taking him so long?" said Keith while waiting for Micael to open their backdoor. "Please, be patient, twin," abrupted by Cate. One had looked around and noticed the not so quite pattern among the guests, let alone unto their table. It seemed like everyone was wearing different clothes and yet followed the same color scheme. There were cocktail dresses, generic shirt-and-pants, jeans with boots, and even some kind of a pajama goer, and they all had the same color scheme, like those you would normally see at themed galas or promenades. "Should this be planned, I mean, no one ever did, right?" said Nick, and everyone followed laughs and gags. They talked about how their very graduation went, the day where Mr. Watsons walked out from their classroom just because of pure humiliation from Jake and Micael, and even reminisced about the things they have all done just to pass his Physics Class.

"Does anyone wanna spill some jerky?"

"About the dumbest thing we have done in Physics Class, you say?" uttered Keith.

"I mean, Jacob is far than just unfamiliar with it, right, mate?" and offered Jacob a manner fist bump, given the indeterminate look of his to Jacob's hands and the gray pumped up vest he was wearing, partnered with those weird kinky boots worn by some broadway performers in Sydney. "Yeah," Jacob smirked a little, which gave Keith enough dare to share those good past times right before Mr. Watsons'.

"'twas like the first Monday of November when Mr. Watsons entered the room with a quite bulk around his arms. I was try'na help him to at least get some appreciation points 'cause we know we're failing like a plummet. Then I have this unforgettable glimpse unto the paper, it was something he wasn't able, let alone capable, of teaching which got my knickers up my sleeve. And then, Micael and I had this kind of a same page on everything that day. We looked at each other, raised brows and the stakes altogether. Without hesitation, we waited for Mr. Watsons to fetch his water on his faculty room because he had been that all year round. It was like a good minute before he realized he did this time. That window gave us a lot of opportunity to play games on our own. We, I mean the whole damn class, like gave ourselves and stuff and decided to leave the lab."

Jacob was of paramount shocked when he heard the last bit of Keith's unbreathed story. "Was that-" he followed, and discreetly abrupted by Micael. "IT was true, Jacob. No wonder why we are afraid of seeing Mr. Watsons the next time." "That was hilarious and way too hard at the same time, mate! Shocked that you passed his," said Jacob, and everyone did the 'hahahaha' after a quite long chit-chat – Those chats that Micael had missed because of a such long preparation.

"and Where was I?" said Micael.

"To those who passed the gate, and especially to our new brit, Mic!"

And everyone does the toast. It was all then their day after all, let alone their lives. After the quite dink! of their toast, they overheard the sizzle of the chuck brisket. By that time, everyone remembered that Micael's father worked on a food truck while studying in a university, a burger kind of food truck to be exact. He almost spent his free time cooking, mastering the very art of an Aussie burger. He was so furiously into it that the food truck eventually made money much higher before Micael's father. There he learned how to distinguish a good meat and a great meat, a good sauce from a great sauce and the myriad of ingredients combinations that made one burger extraordinaire. One closely remembered that Keith's parents were in love of the gourmet burger of Micael's father as it was the most delicious, looks-wise and taste-wise, inside the very border of the continent. The taste of his father's premium-made burger was put alike into those that caused gluttons in the circles of hell. Looking at it, you could see how it was really flame-grilled to nearly perfection and the burnt mark from the grills made it much more delightful to bite unto. Its size was not that much disappointing at all. As one could remember, it just felt like al dente when slicing thru the meat with your teeth. 'twas the chunks of butter forcefully stuck in the burger's crevice that made it much juicier than the other burgers. Today, Micael's Father had built his own restaurant inside Australia's heart, and should you visit his very resto, one mustn't be very unsatisfied of the place and food.

"That sizzle always gets me," uttered Cate. For some time, she had spent her free time in Sydney, the reason why Micael's father was always be reminded that Cate really likes burgers, especially his. His brother, Keith, replied a mock that embarrassed the way she was, though mediocre in nature, twins should be coming along in quite a unison. "This ginger beer tastes good, mate. Where'd you get this?" asked by Jake, who was seemingly mesmerized by what he was drinking. "It was a sample ale from the Brits. We got it last a night," replied Micael.

"Where are we again?"

"At Micael's birthday party, and his quite inevitable departure."

It ensued a short silence around their table. It was like a sudden flash of every memory of them done with each other's hands and backs, let alone literally themselves. "From my black card to Micael's!" Nick cut what awkwardness had ensued and got themselves to go for another toast. There was a lot of dink! at that discrete moment where every one of them was drinking in a quite careless manner, one mustn't waste the last time with their comrade, as the old Russian tale said. "What are you planning to take, Micael?" Harry followed. There was a mere 5-second delay before Micael was really able to utter an honest answer. Stuttered he went to answer his delightfully:

"Music. Anything under the rhythm of the sun, mate."

Everyone was shocked of his answer, let alone very amused.

"Oh. I thought it gon' be a degree in Physics," said Jake, and everyone followed their indistinct laughs. "Why? Because of Mr. Watsons?" he uttered a reply faster than one could had imagined out in the open. "One is not impossible of happening, mate. –" Jake followed an indeterminate voice which no one had got to even decipher what was running inside his mind, for everyone knew that time is that Micael's father was approaching their very table with what it seemed to be what was long awaited.

"This is it, m'lords and m'ladies," said Micael's Father. As everyone had predicted, it had this very distinguishable smell among other burgers marketed out. It smelled so herby-ish though there were no too many herbs at all. It was like pure magic that made the burger so magical, aroma-wise.

Without any interference, his father handed them their respective burgers: They piled so accordingly that it looked it was prepared for a broadway performance prop. They consisted of two patties inside these good-looking buns that Micael's father only would have produced. The patties were so juicy when you look at it even from afar, one can tell how they were prepared perfectly. The sauces were great, too. There was this special sauce that tastes like Sriracha and Szechuan but made much better and far from those aforementioned. The placement of the vegetable would not put you into submissive appraisal either as they looked so delicious that you wouldn't want to throw them. There were sliced pickles, caramelized onions, shredded lettuce and perfectly cut mushrooms and tomatoes, which completed the sequence.

At the very last, one mustn't forget the flag put atop of his father's every food: Louis', as it turned out to be the name of his restaurant in Sydney.

"I am full just by looking at it," said Harry.

"Me too!" Jake followed.

"Taste this, as well," Micael's father followed while carefully handling them the perfect-fried frites, dusted with very minced herbs and sprinkled with salt to further emphasize the flavor. "Enjoy the night," his father followed. Everyone was looking at their food: the dazzling burger utterly combined with frites and ginger ale made their stomachs grunt. "So, shall we? I am hungry," said Jake convincingly. Before eating, they made another toast as to remember that this night would be the best night of their lives, and talked about their respective journeys after dinking their burgers.

"Feeling tipsy not yet, Cate?" uttered jake which seemed like he was flirting to her.

"I am more than not! How about you?" Cate replied with an augmented laugh in the latter.

Before Jake was clear to even a reply, Micael quickly interrupted every one of them: "I really am going to be missing you once I am in the United Kingdom, mates." It was those words that melted the very hearts of everyone around their circular table, which was spilled over by the sauces and some ale.

"You should do pay us a visit," uttered Jake and hugged him, as they sat beside each other. "If only flying cars with wings were invented, I would have been flown to Southwark right away," and everyone was laughing, as traveling to a country and back might take a year or two to revolve around it.

Without looking at their watches, they eaten a little more, talked a little longer, glugged a little much heavy, let alone immoderate, and before their very eyes, it was midnight. "Aren't we supposed to be home at eleven, Cate?" uttered Keith in a quite drunk sense. "Do worry not. My mother had prepared you guys some space inside the house. You may find your suits there," Micael followed, and then Jake whistled to call his attention, and offered him the mannest fist bump one would have done in years' time.

"Shall we call it a day? Long day tomorrow," Micael uttered.

"It will be a long day, mate. Last dink?"  Keith replied, then everyone agreed to have the very last drink of the night before going to sleep, as Micael's mother had prepared them their beds inside their house. After their last drink, which ensued a little talk-abouts, they started to sing one last happy birthday song to from them to Micael's.

Happy Birthday to you…!

And then everyone gave him the biggest hug and kisses from others. After they have done it awhile, they started to at least buss the table covered with sauces and some ale spills from their carelessness, and into the house they all went. Cate and Anna were the first one to see the house of Micael's parents from the inside. In the front of their very eyes, there was none. Everything was covered in gray sheet of cloth and arranged inside boxes.

There was also a painting that was left uncovered by the accomplices and it seemed to be the painting of Micael's grandfather, who had his name written across borders back his time. It depicts the tremendous effects famine could have ensued to the global people, let alone the poor constituents of the world. They looked upon the mezzanine of the house, and above they saw Micael's parents having their own kind of party: a tea celebration and astounding late night talks, which everyone really wanted to experience in different extents.

They traversed the distance of the house before feeling the tipsiness from the ginger ale, then they are approached by Micael, who seemed to be confused.

"This is a very nice home, Mic."

"Sad to say, leaving it." Micael uttered. It was then where his mother noticed the three of them below. At first, she offered them a cup of tea to drink but they all declined as they were all wasted, and might waste another precious cup. There was a clock along the spiral staircases on which connects to mezzanine from the floor. It was very antique and ran by a muting screech of the pendulum, of which only heard in the midst of dark silence, also of which occurred at that very space.

It was adorned by synthetic mistletoes on its sides and a miniature willow tree at its very head; it is also finished with gloss so that it would shine, but all it could array is the dust accumulated from its installation before Micael's grandfather's wake. It also seemed like Micael's mother, and both her parents, are fond of anything under the very nature's eyes based on what was adorning the pendulum clock most. More than just a decoration, it was also a timekeeper, and Anna did not miss the chance to read it: "It's getting already late, Mic." "Yeah, It's thirty past twelve. Shall we find our places?" he followed. Both of the girls have agreed to sleep and called it their day.

It was a matter of just the hallway which separates the staircase from the living room wherein the rest were heavily asleep. The hallway was filled with a lot of carton boxes, which were all filled a lot of odds and ends: pictures, easels, painting materials which used by Micael's grandfather, and some of his instruments. "Who's going to live here once you're in Southwark?" Cate uttered. Without any indiscernible reason, Micael followed an immediate laugh. Daring and confused the two girls went upon hearing one's obnoxiousness.

"What's the matter?" Cate asked whilst walking straight.

"Nothing. It's just an extraordinaire kind of thought, I presume." It was really the pronunciation of Cate's that made Micael laughed upwards the roof of his mouth. As one Aussie could remember, it was South-erk by which the word should be pronounced rather than relying on one's pure phonetics. It ran and bounced inside Micael's mind while they were walking down the hallway to Jake and others. There was silence ensued because of everyone thought to contemplate on things.

The wonderful taste of the foods, the way ginger ale hit all of them, and the night where it's going to be the last with Micael, that year, at most. "We are going to miss you, Micael," uttered Anna with what it seemed to be with deep emotions beyond her tongue. It took quite some time for Micael to utter a reply, but at the moment he did, they were in the house' living room. "I will be going to miss you all, too. Especially you, Anna," he said. He blushed for a matter of a nano, but never was she even able to have a glimpse, as the room was merely enveloped by a very antique-looking shade in the corner.

Micael's eyes were dilated that time, wanting oneself to truly concur that his friends were sleeping soundly and in good shape. With tipsiness, it took him a pinch of a moment to suit himself and the two lassies a much comfortable place to sleep unto. The room floor was halfway occupied by Jake's company as they were completely lied asprawl, but the sofa was luckily unoccupied which became the comfort for both Anna and Cate, and decided to sleep unto it. Micael found himself a place beside Jake's, where he seemed to be heavily asleep as clued by his monstrous-like snoring, which would scare nearby cats and draw very unwanted attention. Micael simply looked at every else's and uttered silently: "Goodnight, everyone," and then smiled.

...