Is it just me or are people more beautiful late at night?
By 5 PM, they're awfully cute standing outside on the curb or sitting in the library, the soft pink of the sunset looking like a blush on their cheeks. There's yellow in their eyes and a little bit of fatigue in their expression. Suddenly whatever we were just doing becomes boring and we start talking about this and that. Mostly it's still about school, joking about whether we'll actually succeed or not. I hear laughter and see smiles, but I cover my own because I'm afraid of looking ugly.
At 6, everyone looks pretty under the darkening sky. Their hair looks darker and the wind from the passing cars lifts them up in different directions. Our bellies are grumbling as we're deciding where to eat. It takes a while—it always does. But the food is almost always good and the company is warm and friendly. Casual yet caring. The lights from the shops outside cast shadows on their faces, depending on which angle they turn. One always has their arms linked with another and that means so much when crossing the street.
By 7, stars are sprinkled across the black sky. We're laughing in the back of the classroom and making childish jokes. We do this to keep from dozing off. When you lean your head on my shoulder I try not to move. I'm holding my breath.
It's 8 PM and I should really be heading home, but we're going the opposite direction. The moon is hanging in the sky like a renaissance painting, beautiful and vivid. In the car, music is playing and I'm trying to relax in the backseat. We don't know where we're going, we're still trying to decide. I can clearly make out your features in the dark, though the streetlights splash us with bright yellow light at times. The glow is stark and artificial, the shadows darken, but only for a moment. They grow sparse as we drive further out of town. And somehow my heart tightens like its bracing itself for something. When we finally arrive, the cold wind greets us and goosebumps prickle our skin. I feel closer to you and suddenly understand why people keep traditions.
At 9 PM the night deepens and so does your brooding eyes, so does the conversation. We're talking about cherished memories and old friends. The moonlight turns your skin gray but to me you look more alive than ever. Your hair is getting messier, your expression more peaceful. We talk about the things that make us happy and our family's hopeless quirks. Things that frustrate us turn into anecdotes. I'm not tired anymore and would like to stay there longer.
At 10 PM, we're looking at the waves. I trust you enough to tell you everything that's wrong with me. With a sad smile I hope we stay friends anyway. I hope you like me despite all of this. You tell me about the things that hurt you, about your fears. We're talking about our broken hearts and dreams we've nearly given up on. I'm cheering you on though I don't even know what to do about myself.
At 11 PM, secrets have been told. I'm not sure if I'm going to regret this in the morning, but so far you haven't given me any reason to. Sometimes we have snacks, or a drink. I'm thinking I don't want to go home at all. I don't want tomorrow to come. Can the moon just keep its position in the sky? Can the stars just keep twinkling? I haven't seen a shooting one yet tonight. But I can feel you becoming more special to me. And this time, I don't care if it hurts. I don't care if you don't feel the same. I know I fall too hard, even in platonic relationships, but it's one of the things about me I've grown to embrace.
I trust you enough to still be with you at midnight. By now, you look stunning. I'm not scared of anything bad that could happen to us. I know we're safe. We fell into this intimate pattern almost seamlessly, thoughtlessly. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
