The Moon Sees You

Chapter Five: Lunar Bloom

The moon was full again.

Eliot had been waiting for it. Every evening, he studied the sky, anticipating the moment when the light would turn silver, casting its soft glow over the shore and the silent hills that loomed behind his house. The tides felt different under a full moon — heavier, somehow. More deliberate. Like the world was about to shift.

It was a strange thing to wait for — the night. The moment when Noé would appear, as if the world itself was holding its breath until they could meet again.

He’d stopped worrying about time. School was a blur now, and Livia’s quiet concern was something he could set aside, as easy as folding a photograph into the drawer of his desk. He couldn’t stay grounded in the daylight anymore. All he wanted was the dream.

Noé had become more than just a presence in his sleep. In a way, he felt like the only real thing Eliot had ever known.

That night, when the moon rose high and the stars bled through the velvet sky, Eliot found himself at the edge of the beach once more, his camera slung over his shoulder, the sea wind tossing his hair. He’d given up on taking pictures of anything else — only moonlight now, the kind that seemed to slip through the edges of everything, like it knew how to reach inside a person and tug gently on the hidden parts.

His fingers trembled with a strange sort of anticipation.

When the dream came, Noé was already waiting for him, standing in the middle of a vast meadow where the air sparkled like it had been dusted with starlight. The grass here was soft as silk, and the sky above seemed endless, as though the moon had spread its light over every corner of existence. Flowers bloomed midair, their petals glowing like liquid silver.

“Noé?” Eliot called; his voice almost breathless as he stepped forward.

Noé turned, his hair shimmering in the starlight, eyes reflecting something brighter than the stars. He smiled faintly, his lips curving like the first curve of a new moon.

“You’re early,” Noé said, his voice soft like the rustle of wind through the trees. “I thought I might be the one to wait tonight.”

Eliot’s heart thudded. He took a step closer, his feet barely touching the ground, as if the world was made of light rather than earth.

“I couldn’t wait. Not anymore.”

Noé’s gaze softened, but his eyes were dark with something unreadable. “You’ve been sleeping a lot.”

“I can’t stop,” Eliot admitted, his voice quiet. “When I’m with you, everything feels... more real than anything in the daylight.”

Noé took a step forward, his fingers brushing the space between them. “I wish I could stay forever. But this place is fragile. Every time you come; it holds just a little bit longer. And when you leave, it fades. And so do I.”

Eliot’s breath hitched. “You won’t fade, Noé. You can’t.”

The moonlight around them flickered, just for a moment — like the air had shifted in some imperceptible way. Noé looked down at the ground, his fingers curling into the glowing grass, as though he were holding on.

“I’m not like you,” he said quietly. “I was never meant to stay. I was never meant to be real.”

Eliot’s heart ached at the words, sharp as an unanswered question.

“But you are real,” Eliot said fiercely, stepping closer until the space between them disappeared entirely. “You’re more real than anything I’ve ever known. You are here.”

Noé looked up at him, his eyes searching Eliot’s face, as if trying to find some answer there — some way to believe in the truth of Eliot’s words.

“I want to believe that,” Noé whispered. “But when you wake... I will still be a dream. A shadow.”

Eliot’s hands trembled, and before he could stop himself, he reached for Noé’s face. His fingers brushed the pale skin, and Noé didn’t pull away. They stood like that for a long moment, their gazes locked, the world around them flickering, both in danger of slipping out of time.

Then, with a soft exhale, Noé leaned into Eliot’s touch, his lips brushing against Eliot’s palm, his breath warm against his skin.

“Do you want me to stay, Eliot?” Noé asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid to hear the answer.

Eliot didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took Noé’s hand in his, holding it like it was the only thing keeping him from falling.

“I want you to stay,” Eliot said finally, his voice breaking the fragile silence. “But I’m not sure how to make it happen. I don’t know how to keep you here.”

Noé’s expression darkened, and he took a small step back, his face etched with a shadow of something painful. “The question isn’t how to keep me here, Eliot. It’s what you’re willing to lose in order to do so.”

The words struck Eliot like a cold wind.

“What do you mean?”

Noé’s smile was sad, wistful. “Everything comes with a price. Even love.”

The sky around them darkened, the stars flickering once more as the ground beneath them seemed to tremble, though neither of them moved. Eliot’s heart raced as he clutched Noé’s hand tighter.

“I don’t care about the cost,” Eliot said, his voice trembling. “I just want you to stay.”

Noé turned his face away, closing his eyes for a moment as if gathering something from the night itself. When he looked back at Eliot, there was an intensity in his gaze, a quiet sadness mixed with something else.

“You will,” Noé said softly, “but not the way you think.”

Eliot’s heart pounded in his chest, the words unsettling him, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Instead, he whispered, “Noé... don’t leave.”

The wind rose again, swirling around them like the echoes of forgotten memories. The dream began to dissolve — the flowers flickering, the trees swaying, the stars dimming.

But for a moment, just before it all faded, Noé stepped closer, his lips grazing Eliot’s cheek with a featherlight touch. The kiss was soft, barely there, but it lingered like moonlight on the skin.

And in that moment, Eliot felt like he was falling. Falling into something deeper than a dream.

Then, as always, the world shifted, and the light in the dream began to burn out. Eliot was left standing alone in the field, holding nothing but the fading echo of Noé’s presence, the scent of moonflowers clinging to his skin.