Moongaze

Chen dreams of the moon

There is something comforting about sleeping beneath the open nighttime sky.

Chen, shifting in his imprint-spot in the highlighted grass, gazes fondly at the distant cloud-rimmed moon.

Although Xiumin used to complain he felt so exposed beneath the moon’s beam, Chen had always felt safe in the pale shower of the celestial body. He loves the way the air seems to glow in its swelling glow, those blue shadows cast by the trees in its unending light. The stillness, the quiet that blankets the air. Its continual, ceaseless presence seems to protect him, banishing the bad things and letting him bathe in the good.

The moon may wane and wax, but it is always there…

Closing his eyes, Chen listens to the subdued tune of crickets and nighttime breeze.

“The moon is drifting among lotus-shaped clouds,” he sings quietly, voice weaving with the muted music of the night. “The nighttime breeze comes in waves, carrying the sound of happiness…”

Whoosh!

Without warning, a large gust of wind whistles by and Chen throws his arm up instinctively. When it dies down as swiftly as it had started, he sits up and looks around.

Slowly, an unearthly beautiful singing reaches his ears. His eyes widen in awe.

Silver orbs of light start to form from out of nowhere, gathering towards one place. Then, unhurriedly, a boy who doesn’t seem older than him materializes from the formless mass.

Chen fleetingly wonders if he is seeing an angel. Long honey hair that dances falls into closed eyes, full lips moving in incoherent words. He wears a simple tunic that bares lithe arms and legs. Silver jewelry glinted from his wrists, ankles and neck.

This youthful newcomer has purest and smoothest skin that Chen has ever seen, like nimble moonbeams. He finally understands the phrase “breath-taking beauty.” Just looking at that flawless ivory skin steals the air in his chest.

Heavenly.

The mystical being opens his eyes. They are a sharp but endlessly wise silver that pierces through the other. Chen feels his entire existence drawn, attracted, magnetized to this boy.

“Hello.”

It takes Chen a moment for his mind to register that this gorgeous creature is speaking to him. But, as he tries to string words together, he finds that his voice had suddenly failed him.

Touching a delicate hand to his chest over his heart, the other inclines his head. “My name is Luhan.”

There is something about the boy’s voice that is incredibly soothing and every syllable that drips off his tongue is as sweet as ambrosia.

Oh my god, Chen thinks. He’s talking to me. To me…

But those aren’t the words that come out of his mouth. “Um, m-my name is C-Chen,” he says rather eloquently.

Luhan raises his head and their eyes connect again. Chen again feels himself unconsciously gravitating towards the other like ocean waves towards the moon, heart jumping in his chest.

Those eyes sparkle as the corners of Luhan’s eyes crinkle.

“I know.”

---------

It just doesn’t make sense.

The golden-crimson sun outside is starting its descent beneath the hills, peeking through the cracks of the window shade, strips lining the room.

Running a hand through his dark hair, Chen leans back in his chair and lets out a sigh. The sunlight drips like paint into the subtle dips and cavernous valleys of the crumpled sheet of paper on his desk, dripping into the smallest of fissures.

In many ways, Chen is like that sunlight. He is a foreign-exchange student at the local university who came all the way from Korea to study Chinese literature and pursue creative writing.

Since his youth, he had a deep infatuation with words and language and the way they could be strung together to relay the exact feelings that would tug at his heart in either excruciating or exhilarating ways.

His fellow literature majors often commented on his uncanny ability to articulate the most hidden and profound voices of people’s heart, seamlessly weaving the sounds buried in those crevices that others had missed. But to him, it is as natural and effortless as breathing. He never questioned it and it had never failed him.

Until now.

For some inexplicable reason, Chen cannot find the perfect words, the complete descriptive expressions that normally come so easily to describe that encounter.

His time with Luhan.

They had talked until the hints of sunrise on the horizon started to chase away the vestiges of the night.

Closing his eyes, Chen can still distinctly remember the way Luhan had simply just stood up and melted into the pale sky like the ephemeral wind without saying goodbye. Though he doesn’t want to admit it, Chen hopes that there never will be one, that he’ll always see the blonde boy.

But the simple act of being left behind had flooded him with panic. When he realized that Luhan had truly left, Chen had fled home into the comfort of his dorm. His roommate Tao was out again.

Forcing himself to calm down, his eyes fell onto his notebook and pen. So he sat down at his desk and decided to do the only thing that could calm him down and immortalize that experience—to write.

Falling back into his element, Chen calmed down and the tenseness in his shoulders evaporated.

However, the actual writing itself is proving to be far harder than Chen had ever expected. No words could describe the way the subtle expressions that had shown through Luhan’s every move, the almost understated beauty that simply radiated.

But it is the way Luhan speaks that makes Chen ache with want, longing for more. His words had danced through the clear air smooth and absent, then rough and rich. Chen had found himself soaking in every sentence the other speaks, line-by-line, famished and full of desire for more of Luhan’s smooth syntax. His voice was quiet, yet it filled Chen’s ears to the brim but it’s not nearly enough.

It seems as if mere written expressions couldn’t fathom the miracle of that sound and would’ve diminished the silent wonder that lingers.

Maybe, Chen thinks, leaning back in his chair, feeling the setting sun dapple the sharp contours of his face, it’s not meant to be described.

---------

Chen dreams of imperfection

That night Luhan appears in the open field before Chen, not like he had arrived in a gust of wind, but as he had when he left—he just fades in.

Chen’s heart leaps as he watches each beautiful feature comes into focus like the focusing of camera lenses. Though the blonde doesn’t say anything at first, his bright smile was eloquent enough.

“Hello,” Luhan finally says again.

Chen is quickly growing fond of the word. But, before he can return the gesture, the other takes Chen’s hand in his. That simple touch, like cool river waters, silences the dark-haired man like nothing else in the world could.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

Chen barely has a moment to think that he could follow Luhan everywhere before his eyes are squeezing shut as a bright flash light flashes.

He can tell from the scent of the wind that he isn’t in the field anymore. Tentatively, he opens his eyes and blinks.

“Whoa,” he breathes.

For as far he can see, there is a sea of blue-tinted white flower petals, rustling and glimmering. Above him the dome of the sky seems to stretch infinitely in a curved vault, wrapping and enveloping the space in its elegance.

“Where am I?” he asks, looking around, not noticing that Luhan is still holding his hand.

“This is my garden,” Luhan answers, gesturing with his other hand.

“Why am I here?”

Luhan doesn’t answer right away. He avoids Chen’s eyes, dropping his hand, tugging at his tunic hem. Finally he says, slowly as if he is choosing his words carefully. “I…merely wish…to share my wealth with…another.” Pink stains his pale cheeks.

“Why don’t you just say that you’re lonely?” Chen asks. Silver eyes flash wide. Before Luhan can voice his question, the younger adds, hastily, afraid he had been rude, “I… I can tell from your eyes.”

Luhan bites his lip. “I do not lie,” he replies a little defensively.

“Only Gods don’t lie.”

“That is true.”

Chen wants to pursue the conversation, intrigued, but he can tell the expression that flits across Luhan’s smooth features that tell him otherwise, so he leaves it alone.

Gazing up at the heavens, Chen notices, despite the clarity of sky, metaphors of cloud fluff the swelling sphere with gray.

After a quiet moment, Luhan says, “You often watch the moon.” It isn’t a question.

Nodding, Chen fiddles with a blade of grass and answers, simply, “I love the moon.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Chen doesn’t answer right away. “To me,” he finally replies, slowly, “it’s the best representation of love.”

The older doesn’t speak, but his mercury eyes convey his unspoken request. So Chen continues.

“Love rises and falls in intensity, from moment to moment, even if the essence or object of love remains the same throughout. Like the moon, love ‘waxes’ and ‘wanes’… But, it is always there, not like the sun. It doesn’t demand your love like the passion of the fervent sun. The tender moon just pours its gentle affection unconditionally, never asking to be reciprocated. That’s how love should be.”

Luhan considers this. “You understand love.”

Chen shrugs. “I have my opinions about it,” he says offhandedly. “What about you?”

 “I often read of it.”

“You don’t believe in it.”

“I have not experienced it.”

“Do you want to?” Chen blurts out, without thinking. He immediately turns away, blushing furiously, mentally slapping himself for his impulsiveness. Luhan will probably laugh at him or think that he is crazy.

But Luhan doesn’t do either. Instead, an asking hand wraps around Chen’s again and, when the younger dares to look back, Luhan’s glowing eyes connect with Chen’s. The latter is surprised to see that they have changed from a sharp silver to a melted shine like mercury.

After what seems like an eternity, a small grin ghosts Luhan’s lips.

“Yes,” he murmurs without breaking eye contact. “I do.”

Even though there are glinting stars and floating snowy-white petals that could possibly rival the beauty, Chen suddenly forgets where he is. Goosebumps spring up upon his skin despite the fact he feels nothing cold. It seems that, for this instant, it is only the two of them in the universe.

As he gazes at those beautiful features framed by the dark of the night sky, Chen suddenly finds it hard to breathe properly.

----

A/N: Yeah, so this is getting to be really long so it'll be a two-shot. Yay~

This needs A LOT of editing, but I'm trying to make a deadline (again OTL) so it'll have to wait until I get this done. Please bear with me~ ^^;;

Oh, before I forget, when there are dashes (---) it's Chen's POV, and tildas (~~~) will be from Luhan's ^_^

Anyway, so, this is inspired by the Greek myth of Selene and Endymion. Full myth will be posted after I finish!

The song that Chen sings in the beginning is the first two lines of a Chinese song called “听妈妈讲那过去的事情 (Tīng māmā jiǎng nà guòqù de shìqíng)” or “Listening to Mama talk about past things/ the past” You can listen here.

Well that's it for part one! I hope you liked it!