The Moon (V)

"Feel yourself at home," Ronnie welcomes me, "but not really. You might wash the dishes if you really felt like home." I smirk, "You wish." We sat down on the living room sofa and Ronnie turned the television on. "Looks like Stardelle's on the news again," I mumbled. "Looks like our school achieved a hundred percent passing rate again," Ronnie says, "This is pressuring."

I looked around at Ronnie's home. It was fairly average; a living room, a cooking area, a bathroom, and a second floor. The walls were colored cream and the sofa and chairs were braced with pale birch wood and green cushions. There was something lacking, though: another presence. "Hey, Ronnie," I called, "You live alone?" He shook his head, "My older sister lives with me. She's on her work right now." He made his way to the kitchen area and opened the fridge, digging out every snack he could lay his eyes on. He dug out a ton. Don't tell me we'll eat all of that.

"Munch on these, while I prepare my room for painting," he goes upstairs, living behind a pile of junk food on the coffee table. "Jeez, Ronnie, do I have to finish this all?"

"So, what do you think?" Ronnie asks as I arrived at his room. Everything is covered in newspaper. "What do you want to paint?" I stared at the blank ceiling. "The night sky," he quickly answers in a mellow tone. "You could always sleep outside, you know?" I mocked him. "Shut up," he growls. He takes out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and gives it to me, "That's the plan." I am suddenly amazed by his sketching skills. It was a drawing of a quarter moon with stars around it.

"Seems easy," I said. "Wow, really?" he asks in disbelief. "Yeah, it'll be a piece of cake." He scratches his head, "When I was here alone, I was troubled on where to start." I smiled, "It's called talent, Ronnie." He rolls his eyes, "Yeah yeah, you're great in painting, I know. I'll go get gloves and other shits. Be right back," He leaves.

While he was away, I took the time to look around newspaperlandia, I mean, his room. Smells like Ronnie. The scent of strawberries filled up the room, causing me to crave for the said fruit. At the side of his bed is a window with the view of their front yard. From a distance, I can see somewhat of a familiar place. I think I saw that place before. It was demolished but its whole shape and structure was still intact. Is that a school? An elementary school? I can't recall.

"What are you looking at?" I flinch at the sudden question, causing me to trip on my feet and accidentally falling onto the bed. I pulled Ronnie down as well. We fell face-to-face towards each other. Our eyes met under the rays of the sunlight, passing through his transparent window. The light caused the true colors of his eyes to reveal: light brown. Our faces were so close, giving me a better view of his delicate, smooth skin. Then I realized I was holding unto his upper arm.

"Oh— um, sorry. I tripped," I apologized, pulling my hand away and sitting back up. "You clumsy dummy," he replies.

Two hours have passed and we were about to finish painting. Ronnie and I were putting the final colors to bring out the night feels on the ceiling. "My arm and neck feels stiff and numb already," Ronnie says. "Well, you did wanted a night view inside your room," I reasoned unto him. He pouts while stroking his brush. "Should've slept outside," I said. "Shut up."

Ronnie suddenly hummed a melody. It's 'You belong with me' by Taylor Swift. His voice was that kind of high pitch, tenor sound that I always found cute. Not long has passed until I joined in, making the room our stage for our humming duet. Our singing, although only in hums, blended harmoniously with his, being high pitch, and mine, being low. Our brushstrokes moved with the songs rhythm as we continued on our work.

I paused.

I glanced at the boy who is humming an old Taylor Swift song while painting the ceiling. His eyes sparkled with passion and joy while doing the art. He's having fun. He looked back at me, mouthing a why. I smiled and shook my head before returning to my part at the ceiling. He giggles and hums again.

He really likes painting, I guess.

"Here," he hands out a can of sprite. "How did you know this was my favorite?" I asked in surprise. "It was the only drink you had when we were at Kyle's," he answered. "Oh."

"As much as I want to warn you about the dangers of drinking nothing but carbonated drinks, I won't. Let's just have this sprite as cheers for the day," we clashed our cans. The view of the sunset from Ronnie's rooftop was amazing. Everything felt relaxing as the view of the buildings were covered by the cloak of the sun as it departs from view. "You really like painting and colors, don't you?" I asked before gulping the soda on my hand. "Yeah, a lot."

"What drove you to it?" I asked. "See that?" Ronnie points at somewhere in the distance. "The demolished building?" I asked. Is he really referring to that school? He nods, "Yup, that's where everything began," he answers, laying back on the roof, supported by his arms. "Care to share?" I asked.

"Well there was this kid at our school. It was winter back then and he was selling this cute little paintings on broken pieces of wood," he starts to elaborate. "Broken pieces of wood?" I asked for clarification. Wait—. "Yup. I only saw him one day though."

"W-What did the k-kid do to make you like arts so much?" I asked. "On that day, I found the purpose of my school life meaningless. I was busy but I didn't have fun. I saw this kid outside our school who greeted every student he encountered with a smile, offering his little artworks."

I gulped.

"He was like a little sunshine on that winter day. It was even so cold yet his clothes were ragged and torn apart. Bet his skin was shivering that day," Ronnie elaborated further.

"D-Did you buy any of h-his artwork?" I asked.

Can he notice than I'm already stuttering my words?

"I did." My heartbeat went rapid as beads of sweat ran down the sides of my head. "What did you buy?" I asked. Don't tell me…

"What I bought? It was a cat underneath the moon. That's only my understanding though. Want to see how it looked like?" I nodded in complete nervousness. He pulled out his phone and opened his gallery. He browsed his photos. He scrolled. He scrolled even faster. Then he stopped. He pressed on the very first photo on that phone.

"Here it is. What do you think?" He showed me, indeed, the cat underneath the moonlight. "I bought this from him because he felt like the moon and I felt like the cat," Ronnie explained. "He was the moon because amidst the darkness, he chose to be the light. I was the cat because I felt like I don't have a purpose that's why I end up only watching those people like the moon."

H—How…

"Sounds inspiring," I smiled before gulping my can of sprite. "Yeah," Ronnie exclaimed, "I always wonder where I could find him again. How he's doing now and if he's still painting?" He looked up to the sky before looking at me. "When will I meet him again?"

You already did, Ronnie.