Watching the Rain

It was raining that night, and inside his room, Dave was watching the trails of the raindrops on the window. His room was lit only with the faint light of a moon covered with thick tufts of clouds. From time to time, he would look at the digital clock on the bedside table, eagerly waiting for the glow-in-the-dark digits to change. Right now, the digits announced that it was a minute before midnight. Realizing that gave this pinching feeling inside his chest. The date was about to change. And so was his age.
Dave rubbed his eyes, trying to ward off his sleepyness. Or maybe, he was doing so to prevent tears from raining down on his cheeks like the rain outside draping the eaves. But like exhausted clouds, his eyes let go and the tears began pouring. He covered his face with the blanket and suppressed his sobs like the muffled melody of the raindrops on the roof. His chest felt heavy. He calmed himself down I can’t cry, he thought. Again, he looked at the digital clock: It was 12:01. It was final. From 14, he was now 15. And soon, the moon would be gone, sacrificing its presence to the sun, whose light was more needed by the sun. If the dark clouds would disperse and the rain would halt, nobody knows.
Sixteen hours from now, he was supposed to be dancing with Ramona, the girl he loves. His suit was ready, ironed to perfection by his Mom. He shined his black leather shoes with the Kiwi Shoe Polish he bought from the store. He picked fresh roses from the neighbor’s garden, which he put to a vase with water, which he planned to give to her, now on his study table. And he made an acrostic poem just for her.
“That’s all I wanted for that night,” Louie, his best friend, told him the other day. “To dance with her all night long.”
Dave forced a chuckle. “Like she’ll want to be locked in your arms all night.”
Louie smiled. “It’s a wish come true for me!”
“What do you mean?” Dave was going to ask, but with the tone of excitement in Louie’s voice was all that he needed to answer his question. In Louie’s eyes, Dave saw honesty spelled onomatopoeic like his heartbeat in shattering beats: crack-crack, crack-crack, crack…
They both fell in love with Ramona the moment they laid eyes on her. Louie was expressive, while Dave veiled his feelings in silence. The whole school knew the Louie-Ramona love team. Dave could fight over Louie to get Ramona. But who was he? He was a nobody; and for sure, Ramona would most likely pick Louie than him. If in any event he fights over Ramona, it would be the end of his friendship with Louie. Dave learned in physics that when two objects collide, there would be nothing but damages. Endless and sever damages.
So now, the suit would remain in his closet. His shiny black leather shoes would remain at the rack. The poem he wrote could merit a good grade in his English class. And the roses would be a decoration in his room until it withers and his Mom would put it away.
Dave lay on his back, stared at the ceiling for a while, still feeling the hints of tears and sobs.
“Happy birthday, Louie,” he muttered in the darkness before surrendering himself to sleep.
The rain outside has no sign of stopping.