Moyurakhkhi's Cigarettes

25| Strawberry

"It's so cold," I muttered. I inched closer to the Bunsen burner. On it, the water boiled in a beaker.

"Right?" Sahal rubbed his hands together. His nose was pink from the cold. It was cute.

It had been raining incessantly for 3 days. Through the window of the Biology lab, the ashen sky sparked and rumbled. Inside, the orange flame cast a warm glow on our faces.

The quality of tea in the cafeteria was so bad that we had to sneak into the lab to make it ourselves. Fizz didn't come, she wasn't as fazed by the cold and plus she was a coffee person.

I took out my tub of Mentos, which now stored tea. A spatula from the shelf of chemicals served as a spoon as I added tea leaves to the boiling water.

"Did you know that tea was used as a currency once?" I said, watching the water turn a lovely orange.

"Nerd," he said affectionately. He fished out a zip bag full of sugar. "How much sugar?"

"Two spoons, heaped. Keep it in the beaker first, then add the tea. That'show I like it."

He nodded, smiling. Ah, the bliss of being known.

I took the beaker he made for me with both hands. I pressed it to my cheek, eyes closing, relishing in the heat that seeped into my skin.

When I opened them, Sahal was staring, in a way that felt nearly unbearable. His eyes were like honey in the faint glow of the fire. Our gazes met for a moment before I lowered them.

I looked outside. I could still feel him staring.

-

"Mind if I sit?" Sahal smiled once he'd walked all the way to the back, gesturing to the empty seat on my bench. He looked like a feral cat had dragged him here, messy hair and all, but it was cute.

"What if I say no?" I asked, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

"I don't really care." Sahal said. Stifling a yawn, he tried to comb his hair with his fingers. I looked away abruptly, as if I shouldn't have been watching something so...physical.

And then I smiled. I was smiling a lot lately.

-

For my 19th birthday, Sahal got me a strawberry beret. His birthday was only five days later, and I got him a matching flower beret. We wore them out to Ramna Park one day. The two of us and Fizz spent the evening painting potteries. A rainbow graced the sky that day, I'd almost forgotten how beautiful rainbows are.

-

"Aww," Fizz said. I grinned too, drinking our fifth batch of laboratory tea at the cafeteria. Kiwi just posted an adorable photo with his new girlfriend - Tania from that cafe we found him at. "Her brown eyes are so pretty."

I nodded. "I know, right? They're so bright and-"

"Meh," Sahal interrupted. "I think black eyes are prettier."

I looked to the ground. "You're like, the only one who thinks that."

"I mean, black eyes have depth. They...let you sink in them," he muttered.

I laughed. "Five visits to Mihran Sir and you've become a poet."

The call for Asr prayers crinkled over the city from tall minarets. As it faded to an end, Fizz and I rose to leave.

As soon as we were in the car, Fizz flipped to me. "He was looking at you. When he was talking about black eyes, you were looking at the ground. He was looking at your eyes."

-

Sahal, as usual, was chatting up Nusaiba. She seemed to be his favourite girl to flirt with, other than Fizz. He leaned against her desk, saying stuff that made her giggle.

I watched.

Nusaiba's giggles were rather graceful. Much more so than mine. They spilt across the classroom and lit it up. Lit Sahal's face up. A strange, strong potion of emotions brewed in my chest. Contempt, and sadness. And jealousy?

She gripped his arm to balance herself. He grinned.

I shot up and darted out of the classroom.

But there was no escape from this prison I begun to find myself in, a prison with warm tea on a Bunsen burner stove, stolen glances and a bed that smelled like cucumber soap.

-

moyurakhkhi's notebook

There's a moon in my sky.
I didn't notice it before
Or maybe I did,
but I was too hung up on the stars.

Like I expected
all the stars fall out one day.
There's faint trepidation growing as I
think about turning to the moon now.
Simply because I want to love.
I have a lot of it to give, you see.

Not letting myself think,
I snap my head towards it.

It has me transfixed in a sliver of a second.

Sure, it's rough around the edges,
but that means that even from this far
I know it's not one-dimensional.

We talk all night.
Even when we don't.
Its songs are there to lull me to sleep,
and they're there when I wake up.
(It does come
smile at me in my dreams,
but does it count if
I know that I'm dreaming?)

And just as I'm falling in love with the moon,
it begins to wane.

-