The Moon Sees You

Chapter Nine: Echo Frame

Eliot spent the rest of the morning in a haze, staring at the moonflower as it slowly withered in his hand. He knew what Noé had said was true — he could feel the fragility of their connection, the inevitability of its end. But it didn’t make the ache in his chest any easier. Noé was slipping further away, like a dream that was fading just as he reached for it.

Livia had noticed Eliot’s silence. She always did, even when he tried to bury it behind his photography, behind his obsession with the moon and the fleeting moments he captured. She could tell something was wrong, even though he didn’t speak of it.

That afternoon, when Eliot walked into the living room, Livia was sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea in front of her. Her eyes were focused on the window, staring out at the distant horizon. There was a faraway look in her gaze, one that he recognized but couldn’t place. She wasn’t just his guardian, his aunt, his protector; there was something else in her that Eliot had never been able to define.

She turned when she heard him enter, her expression softening at the sight of him. “How are you doing?” Her voice was gentle, the kind of softness that masked concern.

Eliot hesitated, his fingers still curled around the moonflower. “I’m... okay.”

She had always been a mystery, a quiet guardian who’d raised him after his parents’ death, and yet Eliot had never known the full story of her past. Now, standing in front of him, her gaze distant as she looked out at the horizon, it seemed like she held the answers to a question he hadn’t even known to ask.

Livia didn’t respond immediately, studying him with a look that seemed to search for the cracks in his composure.

“Eliot,” Livia said, her voice becoming more serious. “You’ve been distant. You’ve been disappearing again.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. “I’ve been busy,” he muttered, not meeting her gaze.

“Busy with what?” Livia’s tone was patient, but there was an edge of something else beneath it — concern, maybe even fear. “I know you’re not doing your work, not focusing on your studies.”

Eliot shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of her gaze on him. “I’ve been... distracted. There’s something—someone I’m trying to understand.”

Livia leaned back in her chair, her fingers slowly tracing the rim of her mug. There was a moment of silence, and Eliot felt a sudden pang of guilt. He didn’t want to burden her with his dreams, with Noé. Not when she had her own life, her own burdens to carry.

But Livia was no stranger to loss. She knew more than Eliot could imagine.

“Someone?” Livia’s voice was quiet now, though her eyes sharpened slightly. “Someone you’re dreaming of?”

Eliot froze. It was as if Livia had plucked the truth out of his mind without even trying. The way she phrased it made it feel like she understood exactly what he was talking about, as if she knew the pain of love and longing that existed only in the space between sleep and waking. But how could she?

“Do you know what it’s like?” Eliot’s voice was almost a whisper, his hands trembling slightly as he looked down at the moonflower. “To love someone you can’t even touch? To want something so badly, and know that it’s not real?”

Livia’s gaze softened, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stood, moving to the window to look out at the sea. Her silhouette was bathed in the afternoon light, her features slightly obscured by the shadows. There was something in the way she held herself — a quiet strength, tempered by sorrow.

“I do know,” she said, her voice low and steady.

Eliot’s head snapped up, and he stared at her, confusion and disbelief filling him. “You... what do you mean? How could you possibly know?”

Livia didn’t look at him. “There are things I’ve never told you, Eliot. Things I’ve kept hidden because... because I didn’t want to burden you. But you’re not the only one who’s ever loved someone who only existed in the space between dreams and reality.”

Her words sent a ripple through Eliot, and for a moment, he felt as if the world had shifted beneath him. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what she was saying, but nothing quite made sense.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice trembling with both curiosity and fear.

Livia took a deep breath, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of the windowsill as she continued to watch the sea. “I was once like you. Before I became... this.” She paused, and the silence between them grew heavy. “Before I became the person who took care of you.”

He couldn’t shake the memory of her last words — I was once like you.

“Livia,” he said, his voice hesitant. “You— you were like Noé?”

She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “Yes.”

Eliot stared at her, disbelief still clouding his thoughts. “But… how?”

Livia took a deep breath, her eyes softening with sorrow. “Eliot, there’s something you need to understand about love like this. I was never truly human. I wasn’t born into this world as you were. I was a dream-being, created by someone’s longing. My existence wasn’t my own. It was tied to him.

Eliot’s heart pounded, trying to piece it together. “Tied to who?”

“Your uncle, Thaddeus,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “He was a painter, a man who loved me so deeply that I came into being for him. He dreamed me into existence every night, and in the morning, I faded. But Thaddeus refused to let me go. He— he loved me so much, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing me.”

Eliot’s eyes widened, realizing the depth of the sacrifice. “He— he did this for you? He loved you, but...”

Livia nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of the table. “He did. And I, too, loved him. But the cost of that love was his life. The only way I could live as a human — the only way I could exist outside of the dream — was if he died. His life gave me mine, Eliot. And he was gone.”

The silence between them was heavy, and Eliot felt the weight of Livia’s sorrow, her unspoken grief. She had lived with the consequences of loving a dream-being, just as he was now. It was the price of love that existed in the in-between, where dreams and reality blurred.

“But you didn’t want me to—” Eliot began, but Livia cut him off.

“No,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want you to go through what I did. I didn’t want you to lose yourself in a love that would only fade. It’s a curse, Eliot. One I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

Eliot felt the heaviness in her words settle deep within him. He had always felt that connection to Noé — that longing that consumed him. But now, with Livia’s confession, he understood more clearly than ever that it was not a path to be walked lightly.

Livia’s gaze softened as she stood, walking toward him. She reached out, gently touching his shoulder. “But I can’t stop you. You’ll do what you must, as I did.”

Her words hung in the air, but Eliot couldn’t find the right response. What could he say? How could he explain the ache in his chest, the pull of Noé’s presence that seemed to draw him in, even knowing it would hurt?

“Livia,” he whispered, finally looking up at her. “I don’t know how to stop loving him. He’s all I’ve ever wanted, even if it’s impossible.”

Livia gave him a sad smile, a knowing look that said more than words could. “I never stopped loving Thaddeus, either. But love like this… it leaves you broken. Eventually, you have to accept the cost.”

Eliot closed his eyes, the pain of her words cutting deeper than he’d expected. But he knew she was right. Love like this couldn’t last forever. And yet, he still held onto it — the hope, the dream, even though it was fading, just like the moonflower that had withered in his hand.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Eliot’s thoughts turned back to Noé. He could feel him — a presence just out of reach, waiting in the dark corners of his mind.

That night, as he drifted into sleep, he knew what he had to do.

In the dream, Noé stood by the river again, bathed in moonlight, his eyes locked onto Eliot’s. This time, there was no hesitation. No more running from the truth.

Eliot stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He had waited for this moment for so long, and now it was time to say the words that had been stuck in his throat.

“Noé,” Eliot breathed, his voice trembling. “I love you. I know it’s impossible — that you’re just a dream, a wish I’ve cast into the night. But I love you, more than I can explain. And even if this can’t last, I need you to know that.”

Noé’s expression softened, his silver hair shimmering under the moonlight. There was a faint sadness in his gaze, but also a tenderness. “Eliot,” he whispered, stepping closer, “I’ve always known. I’ve always felt it.”

Eliot’s breath caught as Noé reached out, his hand brushing Eliot’s cheek in the softest of gestures. “But you must understand,” Noé continued, his voice almost a plea, “I am a dream, and dreams fade with the dawn. You can’t hold onto me forever.”

“I don’t care,” Eliot whispered, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch Noé. “I don’t care that you’re a dream. I’ll keep you with me, even when you’re gone.”

Noé smiled, though the sorrow in his eyes was still there. “You’ll remember me, Eliot. And sometimes, that’s enough.”

As Eliot stood there, heart laid bare in the moonlit dreamscape, he realized it didn’t matter if Noé could stay. What mattered was that they had loved — even if only for a moment.

And sometimes, that was enough.