The Moon Sees You

Chapter Six: Silver Tongue

The next dream came slowly, like a fading star.

Eliot had been restless for days. The nights were longer now, filled with images of Noé that drifted away the moment he woke. He couldn’t tell if it was the moon that had changed, or something inside of him. Maybe both.

The air around him felt heavy with something unspoken, a tension he couldn’t grasp. Every time he closed his eyes, the same question echoed in his mind: How long can I keep him here?

When the dream came, Eliot was standing at the edge of the same moonlit river where they had met before. The water was eerily still, reflecting the stars in perfect symmetry, as if the universe itself had bent to make this place a perfect mirror.

And there, waiting for him, was Noé.

But this time, Noé’s expression was different — something darker in his eyes, as if a shadow had touched his soul.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Eliot said, stepping closer.

“I have much to say,” Noé replied softly. His voice carried the same ethereal, haunting quality it always had, but tonight there was a new edge to it — like something buried beneath the surface.

Eliot looked at him with growing concern. “What’s wrong?”

Noé took a slow step forward, his silver hair shimmering under the pale light. “You need to understand something,” he said. “Something I’ve never told you.”

Eliot’s heart skipped a beat. Noé was always so careful with his words — a poet in the dark, always circling around the truth without revealing it.

“What do you mean?”

Noé’s gaze dropped to the river, his fingers skimming the surface of the water. The ripples shuddered, but the water never moved, still as glass.

“I wasn’t always a dream,” Noé said, his voice breaking the silence. “I was once like you. A boy who loved too much.”

Eliot’s pulse quickened. “What do you mean? You were human?”

Noé nodded slowly. “A long time ago. I lived in a world not so different from yours. But the gods were fickle, and love... love was a crime.”

Eliot stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “A crime? What happened?”

Noé’s eyes flickered with the remnants of something painful, something ancient. His gaze met Eliot’s, dark and full of sorrow. “I defied them. I loved someone who was f*******n to me. The gods didn’t like that.”

Eliot felt a chill creep up his spine. “Who did you love?”

Noé turned his face away, his expression distant. “Someone who wasn’t supposed to exist, someone who was never meant to be mine.”

Eliot’s breath caught in his throat, the weight of Noé’s words sinking in. He wanted to reach out, to hold Noé, but the distance between them seemed vast, like an ocean too wide to cross.

“Noé... what happened?”

Noé’s lips parted, but the words didn’t come right away. He took a deep breath, like he was drawing strength from something ancient and terrible.

“They punished me,” he whispered. “The gods stripped away my mortality, my body, everything I knew. They cursed me to live as a shadow, a dream — only appearing in the minds of those who longed for love the most. But they made sure I could never stay. I can never stay. I fade with each passing moment, and every time someone stops dreaming of me, I disappear.”

Eliot felt his heart break with each word, the pain in Noé’s voice a reminder of something he couldn’t fully comprehend. He wanted to hold onto him, to make him real in a way that wasn’t just a fleeting illusion, but the truth of Noé’s existence was like fragile glass, threatening to break at the slightest touch.

“So... what am I, then?” Eliot’s voice cracked. “Am I just another dream for you? Another person who will forget you eventually?”

Noé’s eyes flickered to him, and for the briefest moment, there was something that looked almost like regret in his gaze. “No,” he said, his voice shaking. “You’re different. You’re the first person who has ever made me feel real again. I... I’ve been waiting for you, Eliot. Waiting for someone who could remember me long enough to make me stay.”

Eliot’s heart raced. “But I don’t want you to fade. I can’t lose you.”

“You can’t stop it,” Noé said, his voice low and steady now. “Even the deepest love can’t keep me here forever. And the more you love me, the more I’ll slip away.”

The silence between them stretched for what felt like an eternity. Eliot’s mind raced, thoughts scattered, trying to make sense of Noé’s words. How could someone so real — so alive in the way Noé was — simply vanish?

“Is there no way to save you?” Eliot asked, his voice barely audible. “No way to stop you from fading?”

Noé’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming. He reached out, gently cupping Eliot’s face in his hands. “Maybe there is a way,” he whispered, “but it comes at a cost. Everything comes at a cost.”

Eliot’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

Noé’s expression grew distant again, his fingers grazing Eliot’s cheek as if trying to memorize the feeling. “I was cursed, Eliot. And in a way, you were cursed too. You found me, and now I’ll never truly leave your dreams. But I’ll never truly be yours either.”

Eliot reached up, touching Noé’s hand, needing something to hold onto in the face of these impossible truths. “I don’t care about the curse. I just want you.”

Noé smiled, but it was a sad, broken smile. “You say that now, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough.”

Before Eliot could respond, the dream began to shift again — the stars dimming, the water growing dark. Noé’s form flickered, as if he were losing shape.

“You have to wake up,” Noé said softly. “I’ll be waiting. Always. But be careful, Eliot. Don’t forget what you’ve learned.”

Eliot’s heart hammered in his chest as he reached for Noé, but the dream fractured, dissolving like mist in the morning sun. When he woke, the real world felt too solid, too harsh, in comparison. The air was too thick, the daylight too bright.

But there, on his pillow, was a single silver flower — its petals shimmering faintly with the memory of moonlight.