"Selenophilia..." He uttered as we witness the glistening of the moon under the city as we sat at the rooftop of this sturdy and tall building. Beside us are ashes of cigarettes, a can of beer, and a seemingly tasteless chips; pouring some sense to our void being and exhaust mind. He's staring at the moon while I am staring particularly at the details. No. Not the moon. But at the man beside me.
I smiled and put some strands of hair at the back of my ear. Definitely not my mannerism but I found myself apparently doing this everytime he's near. Brows furrowed because of curiousity; not of the word, but of the mystery he just said out of nowhere.
"Why the moon?" I asked.
"You're like the moon," he answered.
I shifted. And suddenly, I am most thankful of the moon. I smiled brightly, brighter than the moonlight.
I cleared my throat. Fascinated by his answer, I demand his explaination. Maybe to clarify some mistaken intention?—
"but why?"
He cleared his things and get up from sitting. He stretched his arms as if he just woke up from a deep sleep and held his favorite astronomy book. He pats my head; his usual gesture of saying 'goodbye'.
He's about to walk away when he said—
"You're diligent in chasing people...particularly those who keeps on walking away from you."
—
That moment is still vivid...like a cassette that keeps on playing at the back of my mind. It always demand to be remembered. Maybe to put my sanity back together and draw some logical sense; he hates being followed. I loath the moon now. Heck, I hate myself for confessing at that very moment, too.
Finally, he's conspiracy has come true. He distance himself now, and I'm like the moon... Seeking of attention. Kept in the dark because of this sick romance.
