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The moon has always been drawn to the sun. That’s just the way the story goes. Hằng Nga had loved Hậu Nghệ—always and forever. So maybe, Cantrip should know that being drawn to Summer is inevitable, that seeing Summer in a hazy golden light isn’t rose-tinted emotions but destiny finally falling into place. He should know to expect the butterflies and jumbled words and flushed faces that appear just when she utters ‘hi’. But here he is, feet tapping underneath Lickity Split’s white café table, while her gaze locks on the way the light from the midday sun is making Summer's short brown curls glow golden.
She’s talking excitedly, hands animatedly waving while she recounts the theatre practice that Cantrip had missed, and he’s strung up on every. Single. Word. All the inflictions in her voice and the quickened pace when she talks about something that makes her particularly happy plays on repeat in Cantrips head like the sweetest melody to ever exist. She’s leaning over the table with the sleeves of her favourite jumper rolled up to her elbows revealing the few bracelets that match her friend’s. Cantrip glances at the purple one and feels her face heat up and the urge to hold Summer’s hand—even just for a second—eats up his nerves until its almost unbearable. She instead fiddles with his matching bracelet and turns her gaze to the balcony painting behind Summer’s head as if Cantrip hadn’t been staring.
Summer remains oblivious of course, too entrapped by the story she’s telling to really notice, but Cantrip feels bad, nonetheless. She focuses on her breathing, afraid that her erratic heart will give away her affections and continues glancing between the painting and the coils of brown strands that frame Summer’s face as if the painting has some secret to wiping the stupid grin from his face. It doesn't, of course, only aids in making it worse because of course art only reflects real life and the image of Romeo calling out to his dear Juliet only reminds Cantrip of all the hours she’s helped Summer practise her lines. She tears her gaze away from the painting and looks back to her sun.
Summer is looking at him expectantly, like she’s missed something, or worse, been caught in the act. She doesn’t get angry at him though, only laughs, and fuck. Cantrip feels like she’s falling again. It’s as if her feet have sunken through the floor because Summer’s laugh lets the sun shine through, and he feels like he must be in heaven because that’s where deities belong and the girl of her dreams is right in front of her.
‘Jade?’ Her voice is his favourite song.
‘Mhmm?’
‘I’m going to go to the bathroom and I can buy the ice cream? And don’t argue ‘cause you got it last time, and I’ll feel rude if I let you pay again!’ Summer crosses her arms as she stands up with an unserious pout as she looks down at Cantrip. She can’t even think of protesting though because her stomach is jelly and his mouth couldn’t open if she tried. So, he nods. And The Deity just giggles again and shakes her head before walking off. Cantrip sinks into her chair with a flushed face and hiding a smile, waiting for the sun to return.
He rests his head onto his folded arms, feeling the purple sweater fabric on her cheek as she tries to control the soaring butterflies in her stomach that flutter and glide each time Cantrip thinks of Summer’s smile, or her dimples, or her eyes, or her ridiculously pretty face. He isn’t quite breathing properly, she thinks, and maybe—just maybe—that wanting to hold Summer’s hand and fall asleep on her shoulder or kiss her, is more than just a high-school crush. More than just a little thing that can be ignored in the dead hours of the night when pinkies intertwine from opposite sides of the bed under the blanket of darkness and the false guise of “what friends do”. And Cantrip doesn’t know if he is truly ready to admit that out loud yet.
Before her thoughts can wander much further, he feels a gentle tap on her arm and Cantrip lifts his head up ready to expect gentle eyes and the smile that plagues her dreams. Instead, she is greeted by a much smaller person—a kid who looks like they’re ready to jump with joy. Their brown coils bounce as they rock on their feet, hands now fiddling with their dress.
‘Hey, um excuse me, I think you should marry that girl who sat with you before. You smile a lot to her when she’s with you, and my mummy says that if someone makes you really happy like that you should marry them, and be happy with them forever and ever.’
Cantrip blanks, umming and uhh-ing a response until all he can utter is a half-jumbled response. ‘We’re not- me and her... we’re just friends! She doesn’t like me like that.’
‘Maybe she just doesn’t know it yet! My mama didn’t know she liked my mummy 'till ages but now they’re best friends and married and in love! Soooo, you can do the same!’
The kid runs off back to their family squealing excitedly and returns to rambling to their parents as if they didn’t just throw Cantrip’s world into a loop and she doesn’t even have time to school his face before Summer returns suddenly with two waffle ice cream cones, an expectant hand out ready for Cantrip to grab the coffee ice cream cone before sitting down with her respective lemon sorbet one. Cantrip can feel the involuntary grin creep up on her face, and like every time the two come here swearing it’s not a date, he replies with a playful ‘thank you’ that is both ridiculously dramatic and far too confident for the roller coaster of emotions that she just experienced.
But it doesn’t matter, because just like every time, Summer awkwardly bows in her chair and loudly laughs as if the sound itself isn’t the most beautiful one in existence. As if the freckles dusted on her face don’t make Cantrip want to take astronomy classes if only to be able to point out the constellations on her dimpled cheeks. And just like every time, he believes she’s so pretty that maybe he really is the moon because how else could she explain the feeling in his chest. How does she explain that he doesn’t mind being in her shadow if it means she gets to stay by her side—if it means he is still allowed to brave staring at the sun and see her smile. And maybe Summer has been practising her lines with Cantrip too much because she has to stop herself from saying those stupid three words. Cantrip can feel the stupid grin return.
You’re beautiful. He thinks. Do you know that? You rival both the sunrise and the sunset combined because I have never seen a sight more pretty than you are. I am left in awe in your presence because you mean more to me than Prime itself. Would you tell me if you knew I thought all this? Would you be okay if you knew I thought so highly of you? Would you still hang out with me? Would you still hold my hand when we hang out? Call me when you’re bored? Because I don’t want to let this go…
‘Jade? Earth to Jade… Have I got something on my face? You’re staring.’
Heat floods Cantrips face like waves flood the shore. ‘No- I wasn’t!’ She’s grasping for any excuse really, any response that isn’t I’ve just got you on my mind. ‘The painting!’ She runs with the first thing he can lay her eyes on, and he can’t even be shocked at that being an artwork of the play that creates a backdrop for Cantrip’s interactions with the girl looking back at her. ‘The painting! It has a rose-covered balcony! I was looking at the painting of the balcony that looks like yours! That’s all…’
What the fuck was that?
Before Cantrip can dig the hole any further, “his dear Juliet” glances outside, eyes widening in shock. She stops licking her ice cream, beginning to chuckle instead. She lifts up a hand to wave at whoever has caught her attention outside and for the second time that day, Summer is laughing while shaking her head. Cantrip’s face remains neutral as she tilts her head to the side—a silent question—as she ignores the sudden pang of hurt that overcomes him in swelling waves. She can feel the green chords of jealously slowly entrap his heart with delicate threads of malice; layer after layer of the overwhelming emotion.
It overfloods her admiration and she hates that affections will go this far. Hates it because, realistically, Summer can laugh with anyone, it makes Cantrip happy to see her happy. So why does it hurt his pride now? Why does it feel stupid now for his thoughts to chant Summer, Summer, Summer, when her eyes are on someone else. His thoughts are like an undying hymn of love, love, love- and the waxing and waning of love and hate comes far too naturally for her liking. He glares daggers at the melting ice cream before returning her face to a neutral slate. Cantrip feels himself half-heartedly laughing along.
When Summer’s quiet chuckles stop she faces once again to Cantrip and with a humorous smile explains, ‘William and Vyncent are outside. They’re… they’re being stupid, really.’
I’m being stupid. ‘Sounds like them.’ The smile feels forced so she pushes the feeling away and finishes his ice cream in an almost stifling silence filled with confused looks from the person of Cantrip’s affections. He can’t ruin this day. She can’t ruin this, whatever this is. It’s too important to him—too special. She hates these conflicting emotions; hates the unpredictability. The danger. But like Summer knows exactly when the waves are too strong for him to swim in alone—she probably does—she clutches his hand, finished with her ice cream, and pulls Cantrip to her feet as he finishes his own, saving her from the ever-expanding emotions that feel large enough to flood the universe.
‘Come on, let's go. I’ve seen more of those two than I ever needed to for a lifetime…’
And this time, the laugh that slips from Cantrip’s lips is genuine and it tumbles out like starlight dancing around the moon. The mushy feeling in her brain returns like it never really left and like it’s the most natural thought in the world his thoughts are plagued with the sun. Summer doesn’t let go of her hand and she can’t help but think this is how he’d like it to go every time; Cantrip being pulled away by Summer, hands held together with the red strings of fate wrapped around their ring fingers like vows yet to come. And as the moon follows the sun through the door, Cantrip feels craters form a grin on her face that match the radiant glow of the sun’s own. Behind him, she hears same little kid from before excitedly exclaiming to the entire store: ‘See mummy, look! I told you they’ll be together always and forever! I was right!’
-☾-
Four blocks later and Summer is still holding his hand, like she can tell that the loss of contact would create a supernova of Cantrip’s heart. She feels they are the sun and moon in eclipse. Cantrip’s grin isn’t faltering, and her stuttering breaths are hidden by playful banter and lively conversations. He glances at Summer who’s as breathtaking as she always is, and who’s looking down at her with cheerful laughter that makes her freckles just that bit more pretty. Cantrip tucks the image away into her memory’s photo album to pull out again for their late-night calls when the stars outside are muffled by the city pollution and all Cantrip wants to do is admire them. He feels the gravitational pull towards Summer. She’s leaning in closer to her, close enough to see all the different shades of brown in her eyes, close enough to kiss her. Close enough to do what he’s wanted to do for months, and she can feel his heart beating in anticipation. Then she notices the surroundings. Suburban houses, passing cars, talking people… and Summer’s house down the street.
Cantrip hugs her instead. A kiss can wait for another day, another week, another month… just not yet. Not when this whole friendship is riding on Summer not freaking out and ignoring him. Cantrip feels Summer’s arms wrap around her and he feels safe and loved and warm. The hug lasts a second longer than it maybe should but neither say a thing. Instead, they hesitantly part ways, looking at each other’s faces while walking backwards, not turning away in an attempt to keep the scene playing for just a little while longer. Their hands reach out towards one another like twin statues reach for their lovers to pull them close and never let go, until finally Cantrip turns away releasing her breath.
‘Wait! Jade!’ She turns back around at the call like it was programmed in his brain to be there when she needs, and suddenly she’s thrown centre stage for a role that he barely knows the lines for. A role with an extra scene that everyone got the script for except for her. Summer is still walking backwards as if she never turned around to begin with. She’s smiling that same bright smile and her hand stretches out in a gentle wave—like she’s shouting from the rose covered balcony calling Cantrip the “God of her idolatry” and leaving him breathless.
‘See you at theatre!’
I think I’m just another silly girl who’s in love with you.
‘Yeah, see you then!’