A/N: A ficlet I wrote after listening to Northern Downpour by Panic! At the Disco. Set at an nondescript time.
Moon [Let Me Pretend]
Hey Moon, please don't go down. I don't want tomorrow to come. I want to stay here. I want to pretend. The world could—would—will end tomorrow, so let me stay here and pretend that everything is alright. So please, stay up for me.
He is beside me. Even without looking, I feel—know—sense he is not asleep. Maybe he understands. I think he will. I believe he will. But I do not look at him. I stare out of the window, at the Moon as it shines down.
Hey Moon, don't you leave me. It's light is comforting. It wraps me in silver, and if I just pretend—imagine—dream maybe tomorrow will not come. And I will stay here. Away from the world. With him.
I feel the bed dip and know he has shifted. Onto his side, with an elbow propping his head up. Sheets of dark hair fall as he moves and I have to turn to look at him. A hand brushes my left, that cursed thing. If it disappeared I would be able to pretend. That it was all a Dream.
"It's late."
"Yes."
We lie in silence. Please. Sun, why don't you rest? If the sun doesn't come up, then the day can't start. If the day can't start, then the world can't end. It's simple, isn't it? I know the world will end. Tomorrow. Maybe before lunch. Maybe after. But it will end.
"You should sleep." Kanda shifts again. I look at him. The silver moonlight has wrapped him up as well. As if agreeing that it will try. It will prolong the night as long as it can. Try harder, Moon. I don't want this night to end. I can pretend. I can dream. "Tomorrow is a big day."
"This might—" I say, rolling onto my side to look at him more clearly. He is beautiful. I always thought so. Ever since we met, ever since he denied my handshake, because I am Cursed. He has since gotten used to that. Don't leave me. "—be the last night. Why would I sleep?"
Kanda is gentle when we are alone. Has anyone else seen this side of him?
Hey Moon, stay up. Please. Just stay up. Don't go. Because if you do, the World will end. I reach out and touch his cheek. "It's going to end."
"I know."
We are able to get away without talking much. I guess it's right. We are similar. We understand. I am not afraid to die. I am afraid to lose him. He touches my cheek; my scar. His thumb is rough, but his touch his gentle and I close my eyes for a moment and Pretend.
"I don't want to sleep," I say. "I want the moon to stay in the sky. I want the sun to stay down."
He looks at me; I recognize that look. I've said something strange again, something he finds mildly amusing or just bizarre. "When the sun rises, this will end." Understanding dawns on his beautiful features.
"Yes."
"I don't want to sleep."
Please. Don't leave yet. Get bigger. Moon. Don't leave. You have always been here, always haunted me. So comfort me instead. When the sun replaces you, it will start. I am tired of this war. I am tired of the death. The anguish. Tomorrow it will be done, once and for all, one way or another. Tomorrow, the world will end.
"Yes," he says. I roll onto my back; I feel his eyes but let my gaze drift back to the sky. To the moon. He touches my cheek once more.
"Tomorrow. You will leave," I say. I am tired of being left. I am tired of being loved for something that is not me. And tomorrow, when the sun comes up, we will have to be soldiers once again. Not lovers. He does not know my pathetic thoughts; my tired mind; my exhausted body. I am so worn down, but I will not sleep.
"I'll be by your side," Kanda says. His voice is low; a hushed whisper in my ear.
Hey Moon. Let me pretend just a little bit longer. Let me forget about this war. Forget about the demons, the fighting, the death. Let me stay here. With him. He moves over me. I turn my gaze again to him.
"The world will end tomorrow," he says. His lips press against mine. I don't want to lose this. I don't want to forget this. "So let me indulge once again." The Moon is watching and I don't mind. It does not judge.
It feels normal. It feels right. It feels okay. I nod. Dear Moon, thank you for staying up for me. And I let him take—sanction—savor it. And I drown—fall—drift.
And I pray. I wish. I dream. I pretend. That tomorrow is just another day. That the war is over and done with. I know, through all the sighs and the gasps, the heated skin and the fevered beating of our hearts, that we both want the same thing. I want him to be the last thing I taste. And I understand he feels the same. And together we sink into the faerie tale of pointless hopes proved by the Moon.