s  y  z  y  g  y

i. casting shadows.

It’s sunset in Asia. A fiery red orb of light sinks slowly beneath the horizon. Threads of warm light linger in the endless sky, blending with the scattered clouds like rough brushstrokes of paint across a once bright-blue canvas. The heavens are streaked with hues of heated oranges all around. They fade gently into reds, and then appear shades of salmon pink that melt into a chalky mauve. A stygian darkness takes over the Asian sky a moment later. It’s another day that’s ending.

The Moon is awakening. Sequin-silver stars like the glowing embers of a dying fire start to wink down at the humans on Earth. They whisper the arrival of the lustrous disc of argent, and of another night.

The Man in the Sun watches Asia disappear from his sight as the Earth continues to orbit. A wave of twinkling shadows now covers the vast continent while somewhere else, another day is about to start. There’s no concept such as hours and minutes and seconds in the life that the Man in the Sun lives, but he knows he must hurry. He looks up one last time. The Man in the Moon is just about to show up.

“Goodnight,” the Man in the Sun murmurs, and then turns away.

It’s dawn in America. It’s another day that’s starting.

*

“What’s your name?” the Man in the Moon wants to know.

The Man in the Sun stares at him oddly. “I don’t have a name.”

“Everybody has a name,” the Man in the Moon insists.

“What’s yours, then?”

A pause. A blink. There’s a frown that creases the Man in the Moon’s forehead.

“I—… I don’t know.”

They part ways.

*

Nighttime is a vast expanse of blue-jet-black sky broken by glittering little lights. It’s a pause in a frenetic diurnal lifestyle, which lets the nocturnal one continue where it left off at the last dawn. Some people are falling asleep, tucked in their beds, while a few others are waking up along with the departure of the Sun.

The scorching heat of the Man in the Sun has surrendered to a cool, soothing breeze. Relative darkness is slowly engulfing a large part of Earth, swallowing every last bit of sunshine, and playful shadows have already started to dance with moonlight. It’s scary for some, the Man in the Moon knows. But it’s also reassuring for others. Children think that they are monsters, and tired adults think that they are a relief, that it’s time to rest finally. And then, there are those that are opening their eyes for a new night.

The Man in the Moon is there to protect them all.

Tonight again, countless of stars have come along with the Man in the Moon. They’re scattered all around him and burn with the brilliant sapphire pallor of electric light, like tiny shiny pebbles that hang in the blackness of the night. Each has its own unique shape, and each has its own little secret that makes it as special as the other. Constellations spread across the dark sky. The platina of the Moon glows softly and melts along the horizon.

The Man in the Moon pokes a little star. It stops glittering for a second, and then preens at the attention. Thousands of other stars try to glower more brightly then, demanding of him to play with them too.

“Yes, yes,” the Man in the Moon smiles. “You are all very pretty, aren’t you?”

They don’t answer—of course they don’t. The Man in the Moon sighs. He does feel a bit lonely.

*

“I’ll call you Donghae,” the Man in the Moon decides the next time.

The Man in the Sun frowns. He looks puzzled. “Why? That’s not my name.”

“You don’t have a name.”

“Exactly.”

The Man in the Moon rolls his eyes. “You don’t have a name, so I’m giving you one.” He pauses. “You can call me Eunhyuk! You know, because silver… like the moon… or something.”

A skeptical look is thrown in his direction. “I’m not calling you Eunhyuk.”

*

It’s dawn in Asia.

*

“I’ll call you Hyukjae.”

//

ii. umbra.

The first time that the Man in the Sun meets the Man in the Moon, the innermost and the darkest part of the Moon’s shadow covers the Sun completely. The umbra falls on the whole Europe, which cannot see the Sun at all anymore. The Man in the Sun is not impressed. He folds his arms on his chest, staring down at the Man in the Moon with raised eyebrows. For once, he wishes that he could look a bit more threatening.

“Europe cannot see me anymore,” the Man in the Sun deadpans. “Move.”

The Man in the Moon shrugs sheepishly, a bright grin tugging the corners of his plump lips upwards. He looks full of playfulness and innocence, and is probably thousands of years younger than the Man in the Sun. His dark hair falls messily just above a pair of single-lidded eyes, which are gleaming with excitement. A straight nose stands in the middle of the Man in the Moon’s face and seems almost too big for it, but still fits perfectly somehow; its tip is round, and somewhat adorable. The Man in the Sun sniffs contemptuously. The rest of the Man in the Moon’s features is sharp, like his jawline, and covered with a flawless expanse of smooth, milky-white skin. It looks a bit like moonlight, the Man in the Sun supposes.

“Oh, sorry,” the Man in the Moon says then. He does not sound sorry at all. Glancing behind him, the Man in the Moon frowns at the Earth, and then shrugs again. “I didn’t know that I could meet other people!”

The Man in the Sun sighs. “I take it that this is your first Solar Eclipse?”

A bewildered expression. “A Solar what, now?”

*

“When will I meet you again?” Hyukjae demands. He sounds upset, as though scared to let go of Donghae.

Donghae looks over the edge of the universe, where dark emptiness spreads without limits. “Next time, I suppose,” he says.

“That’s not an answer,” Hyukjae scoffs with a glare.

“Of course it is,” Donghae bristles.

“No, it’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“You’re annoying.”

“That’s right I am,” Hyukjae exclaims happily. He pauses, and then looks grimly at the Earth behind them. “I’ll miss you, Donghae.”

Donghae doesn’t reply. But he does smile. A little.

*

The Man in the Sun is the very first person that the Man in the Moon has met after he became who he is now. He’s a bit quiet and a bit grumpy, and a bit short for someone with so much power, but the Man in the Moon is too happy to care. The endless universe suddenly feels a bit less lonely than it had been before.

The Man in the Sun doesn’t have a proper name. But then again, neither does the Man in the Moon, apparently. He frowns in the general direction of America, ignoring the Milky Way that seeks his attention, and thinks back on his first encounter with the Man in the Sun. It feels like it happened just the night before.

The Man in the Sun had