Just One Voice

•Saying See You Tomorrow•

~15~

There are only two clouds in the entire sky. They attempt to strangle and hide away the full moon from polar angles. Regardless, the moon's light effortlessly seeps through the sneaky gray clusters. I know, of course, that the moon doesn't actually produce its own light, but rather is just a mere orbiting reflection.

It's funny though, because I've always loved the moon most, over the sun or even over the vast selection of a billion stars. The moon is so minuscule, almost irrelevant compared to the sun, yet it's always there. It steps back and quietly cheers from behind while the sun steals the show during the day, but when the sun falls tired at night, the moon holds its position. Sure, the moon isn't nearly as bright, it has visible imperfections, and it really is just reflecting the sun's glory, but I like to think that we shine the absolute brightest when we're supporting others. And in that seemingly unimportant task every night, the moon is an attractive example to all of these little stars, and the one single beam that leads everyone through their darkest hours—when even the sun can't do so.

Obviously these thoughts of mine are solely metaphorical, not scientific facts nor close to. But my point is, the moon, it's always there. Always.

I think Max is my moon.

But for the first time, he won't be there anymore. He'll be gone as soon as the sun wakes up again.

Why am I awake? I shouldn't be. My mind is getting too deep again.

I reach down into my warm sleeping bag and turn my phone over, reading the time at almost three in the morning.

I internally groan. The night's festivities had sufficed as a great distraction, until they wound to an end and everyone finally fell asleep. I had even dozed off for a few minutes out of pure exhaustion, but my light sleep was easily disturbed when a short gust of wind caused me to inhale a lungful of sand. You've got to love nature, am I right?

I squirm to find a comfortable position on top of the shifting surface. After several moments of this I sit up in frustration, straining in the dark to check up on all of my snoozing friends.

One is missing.

I quickly decide to stand, and in my somewhat drowsy state, begin wandering towards the soothing hum of the ocean. I don't know why I had the feeling that he would be there, but I'm proven correct upon recognizing a familiar silhouette overlooking the water.

I make an effort to be the opposite of silent as I approach him, not wanting to startle him from my emerging from the shadows. I seat myself right next to him, and can't help but wonder why he hasn't spoken yet. Instead, his rich chocolate eyes are fixated on the fascination that is the bubbling energy of the sea in front of us.

"Take this." Max eventually says, draping his blanket onto my chilled shoulders. The leftover heat from his body instantly melts against my skin, causing me to feel even sleepier.

"Thanks." I reply quietly, "I'm tired, but I couldn't sleep."

"Me too." He sighs. The moisture saturated air must now be affecting his hair, because his messy strands are even curlier than usual. "I don't want to sleep though. Want to go for another swim?"

I vigorously shake my head, "it's freezing."

He smirks, "A little hypothermia never killed anyone."

"Actually, that's exactly what hypothermia does."

"I just don't want tonight to end. More specifically, I don't want tomorrow to come," he tells me.

"I can't believe that you're leaving tomorrow." I pause as the words rattle my brain, "In fact, I don't believe it. You wouldn't leave me, you love me too much."