The Sun and The Moon

 

 

The Earth was created. He was one of the first architects, making sure the world goes round, spinning and growing. They were made to assure all problems will get fixed and all life runs smoothly. He was one of the few. He was The Moon.

The Moon was a new being, introduced to the world. They were all born from different elements and essences. He had never seen the other ones, from the moment he opened his eyes, he was in his own hall. He was told he was made out of mystery and wind and dreams. The Moon didn't know what it meant, but he could feel the soft breeze blowing a little around him always. It chilled his skin and he felt his hair feather around his face. It was comfortable, something familiar, even though he's been just created.

He had a job. The Moon's job was to bring the night to the people beneath him. His first day, he entered his chamber, dark and cold. The Moon found a note sitting on his chair, an enormous chair with curved armrests, covered in silk. His hand ran over the material, forgetting about the note for a second. His eyes were indulging themselves in the ethereal place that was now his home.

He was told he'd bring the night to people. And with him would come the dark and the cold. He’d bring sleep and sleeplessness. He’d bring the stars and the dreams. He'd bring fog and headlights shining in the velvet dark. 

Reluctantly, he sat down behind the complicated looking panel, sitting just below a window that let him see the world. He ran his fingers across the buttons and switches, a little unsure of what they're for. They told him he'd figure it out, that it was his natural instinct to create the night accordingly. The paper informed him this was to control the night. He had the world in his hands during the night. Some parts, that's it. He controlled the weather at night and he controlled the dark, the magic, and sleepiness, he controlled the night lights and he could sprinkle in some essence. They were neatly stored in tiny bottles above his head. The Moon took one, twisting it in his hands carefully. ‘Sadness’ read the tiny paper attached to its cork. The blue dust sifted from one side to another as he inspected it from all sides. Other bottles had slightly different colors, ranging from black to navy to baby blue to white. Happiness, fear, anger, tenderness, excitement, love, trust, loathing, grief, ecstasy and so much more. He was yet to try them all. Just a little sprinkle, he was warned. You'll need just a little sprinkle over the world to mold it as you wish. Just open the window in front of you, or go to the balcony. Let the stars guide you, help you. Listen to them, listen to the dark too. Take its advice. You'll become friends.

They’ll be watching you, the paper read. They'll be looking up, pointing at you, saying how beautiful you are. They'll bask in your moonlight, sharing their most intimate moments. They’ll be writing stories about you, they'll be wiping tears, happy or sad, and laughing, all of that is your power. They'll look up at the night sky and talk about their silliest dreams and deepest fears, gather the nerve to confess, they’ll kiss and hug, they’ll have courage and freedom, all under your veil of darkness and beauty. Sometimes they'll be scared, they'll be crying or yelling. It's okay. It's in their nature. The Moon had a special power. He could bring the deepest secrets and desires out from the depths of being forgotten. He was ecstatic to try it out.

He continued reading the paper. You’ll be switching with The Sun to rest.

The Sun?

Who’s The Sun?

The Moon looked around, noticing the night's ending. That was his first night, his first art piece. The glass under his feet showed the night getting lighter and lighter, eventually turning from the darkest black that hugged you the whole night into a lighter hue, the promise of a new day. He turned around, following the twinkling light of yellow and orange.

He had never seen anything like that. 

He saw The Sun.

He couldn't see The Sun clearly. He was too bright and luminous for him to see anything clear yet. The Sun wasn't too far, but he was just rising from the horizon. He could see the whole world waking up, a sudden wave of dizziness fell over him, closing his eyes to go sleep. But he didn't want to close his eyes, he didn't want to ever stop looking at The Sun. 

The Moon couldn't tell what his hair looked like but it glistened in tones of orange and red and gold, reflecting the chamber's lights, just like he did. His skin was golden and warm, he could feel himself getting warm just by looking at him. His hands weren't cold anymore. The Sun rose some more, his eyes fixated on a similar paper such as his own. He smiled, dimples appearing on his rosy cheeks, his smile sweet as honey. The Moon felt like he'd melt. 

He wondered what The Sun was made out of. Maybe peace and morning dew. He tried to study The Sun as close as he could, without his eyes hurting too much. He was shining so bright. The Sun had freckles, on his face and on his arms. They created wonderful patterns on his skin. The Moon wanted to come closer, introduce himself but the glass windows didn't let him. He tried to push on the windows, making them budge but couldn't move them an inch. His hand stayed on the glass unwillingly, feeling as the glass got warmer and warmer with The Sun rising. 

The Sun looked so warm. So friendly and open, you could feel his warmth eloping around him. He wished The Sun would look his way, he wished so badly to give him a smile and to see The Sun smile at him. He knew he’d have the most heartwarming smile.

The Moon had never seen anyone as beautiful as The Sun.

 

*

 

The Earth was created. The Sun arose, waking up in a strange sunny room. He had been created and molded into this form, given the job of bringing the day to people. To bring light and warmth a life. 

The Sun felt something drip down his fingers, morning dew. He had just woken up, little droplets of chilly water forming on his hands and cheeks. he felt it drip down his neck but soon enough he was dry. He was The Sun, after all. His cheeks were getting redder and redder with the warmth he felt, always around him. 

He looked around the room, feeling like he's home even though he had just arrived. It felt awfully familiar, The Sun felt like he knew almost every detail. Leaves and branches bumped into his head, growing from the ceiling and the walls, filling his chamber. He could grab a fresh orange if he wanted, fruit and flowers growing everywhere he looked. The glass floors were giving him a view of the world beneath him, he could see his work from there.

The Sun arrived at his control desk, careful not to touch any button or lever, sitting in the satin chair. It felt so cold against his warm skin, he appreciated the change. Someone had left him a paper, he curiously read the instructions. But somehow he felt like he already knew all of it.

But his curiosity got the best of him, his fingers reached over to the colorful buttons and pushed the yellow one, the sky instantly glowing brighter. He saw it beneath his feet, through the glass floors. He wanted to try out all the buttons but they were missing something. The whole world was missing some shade and as hard as he tried to find out more about that in his papers, it didn't mention anything. 

The Sun had one faint memory, from just before he woke up. He remembered being told he's made of honey and joy and haze. He was told he'd bring life and warmth, that he was a crucial part of every life on the Earth. He gave life. He made the world feel warm and sunny and cheerful and lively. They won't be able to look at you for long, said the voice. The Sun was saddened, he wanted the world to look up and point at him, saying, that's our star, that's our darling Sun. He wanted them to look up and be reminded they're loved by The Sun, that The Sun's here to shine and love and take care of and embrace the world. 

But the voice assured him, it's because you're too bright. Blazing and dazzling, so luminous, they couldn't bear to look at you for so long. So beautiful. And The Sun felt his own cheeks getting rosy, forgetting his own warm aura. 

The voice told him he was the signal of a new day, of a new beginning. After a long, cold night he was there, to give the world new hope. He was there to wash their worries away, to scare away the monsters of the night. But sometimes, he was there to remind people of the night before. He was there to remind them of their reckless decisions, confessions, words said in the heat of the moment, kisses given in the dark of the evening. It was there to remind them those elements and their demons are still there, not hidden under the satin covers of the night. 

He was their star, savior, and protector. No matter how intensely he burned, they wanted him to come back, no matter the season. The world would raise its arms up to him, asking him for gifts and life and help.

The Sun read the final words of the letter, pushing more buttons to see what'd happen. The wold changed colors and temperatures, it changed from a singing oasis to a lazy afternoon.

You'll be switching with The Moon to rest, the letter read.

The Moon?

Who's The Moon?

The Sun felt a sudden breeze on his cheeks, cold wind blowing from his right. He never noticed a window sitting there, obstructed by the rich flora growing in his chamber. He pushed the plants out of his way, following the river of darkness across the sky.

There, he saw The Moon.

He felt like his breath was knocked out of his lungs, the moment he looked at him. The Moon's chamber was dark, only illuminated by a few pale lanterns but he could still see him well enough. His dark hair, every hair in place, shone in the light, contrasting with his ivory skin. He was far enough but he could still imagine it feels cold to the touch, The Sun had a sudden urge to run his hands all over him, to embrace him and pull him closer, to warm The Moon up. He was reading the same paper like The Sun, sitting in his own silken chair. 

He shifted in his chair, his shirt moving a little from his chest. It was silken, just like his chair, white and glistening, he had the first few buttons undone. The fabric hung on every inch of him perfectly, he looked so delicate but celestial, almost like he'd disappear in a cloud of smoke if someone caressed him with intentions other than love and care and tenderness.

If The Sun could see clearly, he had little moles in his chest and hands. They were all connected, creating constellations and patterns on his skin, just like the stars. He wasn't sure what came first, the shapes on his skin or stars themselves.   

The Sun's eyes were closing, feeling it's time to switch with The Moon to take care of the world beneath them. But he didn't want to leave, not without catching his glimpse, not before The Moon notices him. He felt like The Moon is his gust of fresh air, finally filling his lungs with the dear heaven and blessing him with his glory.

He knew he'd never see anyone as alluring as The Moon. 

 

*

 

The Moon hasn't decided what this night's essence will be. He used his powders sparingly, but tonight felt like sprinkling a little sadness over the world. The day looked so beautiful, he wanted to keep the balance. The day was truly beautiful, The Sun was an artist. It was his favorite part of going to sleep, seeing the sunrise. But it was their collective work. He slowly let the world go brighter, giving The Sun space to work his magic. He laid down each morning, watching the world beneath change colors, fro, blue to orange, to shades of yellow he could only dream of. He didn't know how The Sun did it.

He reached for the bottle labeled ‘Sadness’, but before he could bring it down, a flickering light directed his attention elsewhere. 

A bottle near his window, a huge bottle was sitting down, its content glowing in the dark chamber with golden lights. Curiously, The Moon knelt down, inspecting the strange object. The bottle had a little note on top, wrapped close with thin twine. He read it quickly, curious to see what it is.

The Moon felt his heart start to melt, seeing The Sun's signature. He still hasn't been able to catch him all this time but this bottle still found its way in. That means The Sun sees him, acknowledges him. Cares about him, dare he say. He set the note aside but he'd sure keep it nearby. He opened the bottle, letting its content fly out freely. The flickering lights of golden and yellow and white dispersed all over his chamber, creating an immaculate sight worth of heaven. The Sun named them fireflies, hoping they'd carry an essence of the day into his dark night. 

The Moon couldn't take his eyes off of them. They felt like a part of The Sun himself, a few of them sat on his shirt. Their tiny bodies shone through his blanket of the dark, illuminating anything and everything. As hard as it was to take his eyes off of the sight, he decided he couldn't keep this for himself. If it made his heart race and made him forget about sprinkling sadness over the world, the world deserved to see them. It was very difficult for The Moon, he wanted to keep them all to himself, little twinkles of electricity. 

The Moon opened one of his windows, letting the fireflies fly free. He hated seeing them go but the world deserved to see the beauty. They all flew, except one. It stays sitting on his shirt, right above his heart. It feels warm, like a little bit of The Sun is with him. And it is. The Sun made them, created them, molded them, for him. So he'd always have a little bit of The Sun near him, even if they're always missing out on each other's glances and smiles.

The Sun cares. 

 

 

That night The Moon lay awake, not even the sunrise color show beneath him putting him to sleep. He wondered if the world could still see him up in the sky. It happens sometimes, he heard. When he's up late or if he wants to watch the sunrise, you can see both, The Moon and The Sun. He wondered how it looked from down below. 

But The Sun's gift was still on his mind, his stomach tying a happy knot each time he saw that one lighting bug fly around. He wondered, how did The Sun make them? What did he create them out of? He found he could make clouds, just out of nothing. He wondered if The Sun would like his clouds.

The Moon rubbed his index fingers together until they felt cold and wet and a little tingly. He pulled his hands away, seeing a little fluff of white floating in front of him. It wasn't bigger than a marble, hovering above his thighs. But as small as it was, he still felt the cold emitting from this little froth, even despite being covered in blankets. 

He cupped the cloud in his hand, seeing droplets in his palm. It felt like he was holding nothing but at the same time, felt the cloud and tickle his hand. He twisted it between his hands, watching it get bigger and bigger, the more he molded it with his palms. The cloud was now as big as a head but still flew effortlessly in the air. Sometimes, he wished he could be like the clouds he made. So light and airy, delicate, floating through the air letting the wind chose your destination.

He had never seen the clouds during the day. The Moon wondered if The Sun would like them. Sometimes, he let them out during the night but they were always so small and flowy, it almost looked like nothing. Maybe during the day, they'd gain on size and create beautiful paintings in the sky. He saw the people sometimes look up and point at his clouds, saying they looked like people or dogs or hearts. He always found it so amusing, molding and carving the clouds as he wanted and then letting them fly outside, pushing them out of his window. And then leaning out and listening to people guess, look at their ever-changing shapes. And if he felt mischievous, he'd send out the clouds sprinkled with a little bit of ‘Fright’ essence. The world seemed like an awfully different place when he did, good and bad happening down below. 

He blew into his cloud, pulled its sides to shape it how he'd like. A little froth here, a little pull there and some more fluff here. The Moon held it in his hands, careful not to crush it. Its coldness stung his cheeks and hands but he enjoyed it. He walked over to his window, the one from which he could see The Sun. The Sun was just waking up, he accidentally caught him at this private moment. But he wanted to send him a gift too, opening the window and sending the cloud out but not before sprinkling a bit of ‘Serenity’ and ‘Comfort’ on top. he knew The Sun would recognize his gift. 

If The Sun wanted, he could send the cloud into the world. It'd take it its own way, getting bigger and bigger, dividing, casting a shadow on the world. A little bit of the night during the day. But he was a little worried The Sun would maybe get cold or wet holding his cloud. A little part of him wished The Sun would keep it just to himself. 

He wanted The Sun to know The Moon cared too. 

 

*

 

The Sun sat in his chair, fiddling with the Earth's temperature. It felt like a whole new world now that he found the cloud outside his window. He could mold the world into his liking, always trying to find the perfect atmosphere. For spring and for autumn, but he still kept the original cloud with him. Always.

Even though it made him feel a little cold at times, it still warmed his heart. It was nice to cool himself down from time to time, to feel the slight breeze on his ever-rosy cheeks and burning hands. When he went to sleep, sometimes he'd lay his head on it, the cloud surprisingly keeping its shape and form. It felt like laying in heaven itself, the cloud caressing his face. Sometimes, he'd wish it was The Moon instead. 

It was time for him to go to sleep and The Moon to take over. But he wasn't tired just yet, moving himself to the window from which he saw the night. When he couldn't sleep, he'd look at the stars and city lights, not being able to tear his eyes away from the twinkling lights. The sea of lights always looked so enticing to him. He'd open the window and take in the night air, being able to differentiate between the essences. ‘Joy’ smelled like summer nights, warm and earthy. ‘Melancholy’ would be sharp and a little sweet and dry. Tonight he smelled something new. It was almost floral, very soft and tender. 

It was ‘Love’.

 

Not for the shining light that caught his attention, he'd still be basking in The Moon's essence. The Sun looked down below, seeing a flying ball of light fly just beneath him. It left below a tray of light and stardust, glistening beautifully in the night. He had heard of those, from the Earth. It was a shooting star, he was supposed to make a wish. As silly as it sounded, it was a very sweet tradition. What should he wish for?

Something moved in The Moon's chambers, snapping The Sun back from his daydreaming. He looked up, seeing a figure standing near the chamber's window looking straight at him. He felt his stomach shrink looking at The Moon, slightly illuminated by his lanterns and... and The Sun's firefly. It sat on his silken shirt, casting a yellow glow around it, sitting just above his heart. It shone much brighter than the other ones, setting it aside from the rest. The Sun knew it was the first one he had made. He cupped his hands together and at that moment, he thought of The Moon. He felt something buzzing in his hands, he opened them and out flew a lightning bug. It was one of the prettiest things he had seen. And now it was embellishing The Moon and the night.

He looked at The Moon, looking right back at him. The time seemed like it stopped, The Sun thinking about a thousand and zero things at once. He didn't even realize as a smile spread across his face, seeing his gift and his other half. He tried to calm down his heart but he was too excited to finally lock eyes with The Moon.

He smiled back at him too, The Sun seeing the most charming smile. He had seen a few humans in his time but this was The Moon, giving this smile to him and just him. The Sun cursed that their chambers were so far away, wanting to reach out to The Moon. Sheepishly, he raised his hand, giving The Moon a little wave, saying hello. The Moon did the same, not hiding a little laugh that he just couldn't keep in. 

The Sun was too enveloped in his beauty, he had seen him a couple of times but now, it felt different. Maybe it was his smile, maybe it was his look, maybe it was the twinkle in his eye. Even though he was far away, he could bet that he had the whole universe in his eyes. His eyes smiled too when he smiled. The constellations on his chest glowed a little brighter than usual and The Sun liked to think it was because of him. 

He wasn't sure what he felt but it was nothing short of starstruck. Devine and heavenly, he almost thought he saw an angel. But it lasted short, too short for his liking. His flame had turned away, attending to the night. His heart sunk a little but he soon found himself back in his chair, smiling widely for no reason. He felt like a teenager, he had seen those down on the Earth. He had seen them experience first loves, passion, smiles, and tears, heartbreak, saying ‘I love you’ and ‘It's over’. Sure, it was sad at times, bitter, seeing their heartbreak and regret but he also found it beautiful. Experiencing it for the first time, your heart pure and unmarked, unscratched. He felt like that too, The Moon's smile burned in his memory like a song he couldn't get out of his head. The butterflies in his stomach flew around, or so he thought before he felt something land on his hands. Tens of butterflies, straight out of their cocoons that they had on The Sun's trees. They sat on his hands and shoulders, sticking out their tongues as if they were looking for a flower. The Sun put them on the nearest tree, watching them search for sweet nectar. He wondered if a single smile could hatch tens and hundreds of butterflies, what could love do with him? And with the world?

 

 

*

 

The Moon couldn't help glancing at the window. He had been working the whole night but all he wanted was to see The Sun again. The night was all set up, his little firefly flying from one hand to the other one, sitting on his fingers. He felt like the night needed some more wind, pressing the button on his far left but it wouldn't budge. Confused, he tried the other buttons. None of them worked but before he could stand up, a paper flew right down onto his panel board. It was the same handwriting like on the paper he received when he woke up for the first time. 

After scanning its content, he turned around, seeing a door appear, just as the paper said. It felt like a rock on his chest, unsure of what's on the other side. Just now he realized he had never left the chamber. He didn't know the way out, after all. What was waiting on the other side?

The Moon looked out from his window, checking up on the world underneath him that was in his hands for the night. The lights stopped twinkling and the water didn't run, all standing in one place. The world has stopped. The Moon was confused but hoped the paper was right, assuring him that this happens sometimes. To fix all the little errors and give the architects some time to unwind. He guessed if he wanted, he could've left for some time before. He wondered if there'd ever be another Moon, someone to take his place.

The Moon debated whether he should walk through the door or not. The decision was made easy, as soon as his firefly flew up, sitting on the handle. 

He opened them slowly, peeking behind them just to see a long curved hallway with glass ceilings and floors, similar to his own chamber. He could see the night sky all around him, a wave of comfort and calmness washing over him. He followed the road of lanterns and shrubs lining the passage, the familiar wind slowly stopping. The night sky underneath his feet was beginning to light up but when he looked back, it stayed velvet black. The air was getting warmer and The Moon felt a familiar knot in his stomach, just like the one he felt when he finally saw The Sun. 

With great anticipation, he followed the path before looking up, finally seeing him. The Sun. He was following the same path as The Moon, finally seeing him too. As much as he wanted to run towards him to grab him close and never let go, he grabbed his hands behind his back and slowly made his way towards him. He didn't want to seem too fidgety, too nervous, too eager. He wanted their first encounter to be perfect, perfect as it could be. 

The air was getting warmer and warmer the closer he got to The Sun, not being able to hide the smile on his face. The Sun couldn't either, looking away a few times. The hall seemed never-ending, the other person still too far. 

His smile grew into an even bigger one, The Sun at arm's reach now. They stopped, taking a moment to finally realize they're now together. He couldn't believe it was really The Sun, but the dreamy smile couldn't belong to anyone else. The Sun was the first one to stick out his hand, introducing himself. “I'm The Sun.” He knew The Moon was familiar with him but it felt right. It felt right when The Moon took his hand, he felt cold but it was so pleasant. Like a cold drink on a summer day. It sent shivers down The Sun's spine, he gently squeezed his hand a little tighter. It felt right, seeing The Moon smile and introduce himself in a hurry, seeing the most darling face. It felt right when The Moon stepped closer and pulled The Sun to him, thought their bodies touched, they were still too far. It felt right when he claimed his lips, The Sun's hands unwillingly finding their way up to The Moon's shoulders, The Moon holding him close, The Sun's face while the kiss lasted. 

The world seemed like it stopped again but just for them this time. After never-ending cycles of switching and bringing day and night, night and day, here they finally were. The Sun couldn't explain how badly he needed this, The Moon, how badly he wanted to feel his coldness and the wind messing his hair. The Moon didn't want to say how much he wanted to feel The Sun in his embrace, feeling his heat and touch. The world felt like it was complete, it felt like rain on a summer evening, like a fireplace on a winter morning, like their purpose was finally done. It felt perfect, like morning dew falling on his hands, like the stars showing themselves, like butterfly wings.  

“God, you taste like honey,” The Moon whispered against The Sun's lips after pulling away from the kiss, still fueled by both, passion and softness. They rested their foreheads against each other, not wanting to move an inch away. He saw The Sun smile, feeling butterflies in his stomach too and seeing them fly out from The Sun's side. 

He tasted honey once. It was from The Sun, sent on a summer evening. He tasted it once, but it could never equate how sweet and intoxicating The Sun tasted. 

The Sun didn't hesitate a moment before bringing their lips together one more time, needing a second kiss. The Moon's breath was hot but his breeze was cooling him down, a sigh escaping The Sun's lips when he pulled away again. Their worlds were melting away, The Sun The Moon's cheeks. They were smoother than ahis silken shirt and he could finally see the stars on his chest clearly. They shone, brighter than he could ever imagine. 

He looked below them, on the glass floor. They were both left speechless. Where they stood, the sky turned rosy pink, the color spilling on both sides, day and night. It was the perfect mix between The Sun and The Moon, the most romantic color they'd ever seen. The sky hasn't looked like that ever before. The Sun didn't even notice he was holding The Moon's hands, it came as naturally as laying on his shoulder. “It's so beautiful,” The Moon sighed, looking down at the sky while caressing The Sun's hair. Just now he noticed he was slightly taller than The Sun, his hair tickling his face. 

“You're beautiful,” The Sun breathed, looking up at his other half. When he saw his eyes, he forgot about the sky. He knew they'd hold many stars but nothing could've prepared him for how captivating his look was. But so was The Sun's smile, shining like a thousand stars. The whole world was beneath them but for the time being, they felt like each other's whole world. There was nothing else, no one else, just them. 

 

The Moon laid down, feeling the world moving again. He knew he wouldn't close an eye, the world spinning underneath him was suddenly the most heartbreaking thing. It signalized getting back into their cycle, running the Earth. It meant he couldn't see The Sun until the world stopped, oh how he longed to see The Sun again. To hold him close, grazing his back with his fingers. To be captivated by his smell, always engulfed in the aroma of wood and nectar. To have his fingers connect the stars on his chest, to hear him talk and laugh. He lay there, never realizing how cold he actually was until he had The Sun warm his hands.

The Sun sat in his chair, hoping the clouds would take care of the day because he wouldn't be able to concentrate. He wished he could lay down next to The Moon, fall asleep next to him. And then hold him, close, as closely as he could. Be enveloped in his aroma of cinnamon and flowers, to have him trace his freckles and say they're also like constellations. To sit at the edge of the sky again and talk, talk while the world was stopped just for them. And laugh, to hear him laugh and sigh, see his smile and feel him embracing him. He wished he could look up at him and fall for him over again and over again. The chamber didn't seem so lonely until he had The Moon. 

They didn't know when the world would stop again. They didn't know when they'd see each other again, when they could hold each other again. But until then, they'd be in each other's thoughts. Dreams. Wishes and hopes.

The Sun loved The Moon.

The Moon loved The Sun.