A/N: I know this isn't astronomically accurate/possible. But it's fantasy. Also I do as I please. So please don't complain. Thank you.
There is a man on the moon.
He has stars in his eyes and he glows with the same pale light as his home. Light borrowed from the sun. Where he walks, he leaves trails of stardust. His cloak is made of darkness and isolation, and it trails behind him, extinguishing the luminescence of his stardust.
He is alone.
He is bitter.
He is afraid.
Once upon a time, he was not alone. That was when the universe was young. When his home barely existed, and his companion's home was so, so close. And they spoke, and they fought, and they danced, and they fell in love.
And they drifted apart. Until one day, neither could jump far enough to bridge the gap. They could only cry out helplessly as the universe tore them from each other, agonizingly slowly. As a mass of rocks and water drifted between them. As his companion's home grew, and the man on the moon found himself stuck worshipping the planet while the planet worshipped his companion.
Of course Arthur is bitter.
Sometimes, they pass close enough to each other that Arthur wonders if jumping would be worth the risk. Sometimes, he is close enough to really do it.
Those are brilliant moments. Brief and exhilarating. He wants them to last forever. But they have homes, and he can't stray too far from his, because he has his duties, and if he doesn't perform them he may damage the universe more than the universe has damaged him. And the retaliation of the stars may keep them apart forever.
So he smiles while the Sun burns his feet and Francis' lips burn his own, and he clings to him as he tries to say everything at once, before the familiar tugging of the moon beckoning him home forces him to let go. And he cries as he steps back, and once more Francis singes his lips as they say goodbye for another lifetime, but he doesn't mind the heat.
Arthur jumps home.
The moon is cold and unwelcoming. It always is. It always will be. He wants to stay on the Sun forever, where there is warmth and happiness.
Well, it's rather hot where Francis has allowed the Sun to cast light. But soon enough, the spot on which Arthur lays curled up on himself, will be bathed in darkness and freezing.
He is so, so tired of being the man on the moon, doomed to suffer like this eternally. He is so, so tired of the stupid fucking indecisive rock he's trapped on. He's tired of being separated from his love. He's just tired.
He pulls his cloak around himself, and it glows in the light of the Sun. It warms him almost as Francis does. But it's still not the same. He wants to spend eternity wrapped up in Francis' cloak, as it blazes reds and oranges and yellows, as flames swell about the outside in order to keep the inside adequately heated.
God, he just wants Francis. Every time they see each other, it becomes more difficult for him to leave. As the years pass, the only thing that makes him return home is the awful nagging feeling in the back of his mind.
Even the moon seems to be aware of his preference. He wonders if perhaps Francis feels the same way; if he'd rather be on the moon with Arthur than the Sun by himself.
He also wonders what the moon will do without him.
When they first fell into orbit around the Earth, as Arthur has learnt to call it, he had known to help guide the moon around it carefully; not too close, not too far. By the same magic that he was summoned home, he was taught what to do. If he simply stops, will the moon fall out of that orbit? Can his idea that he can singlehandedly destroy the universe be true?
He isn't sure if he can do it. He waits what seems like a thousand lifetimes to draw close enough to Francis again. And when he jumps, when he drifts through space for those few brief moments before his feet touch flame, he falters in his anxiety. But Francis catches him, heat and passion, and pulls Arthur into a fervent embrace. Arthur smiles and kisses him, and he tells himself, over and over, not to listen, not to go back, no matter what.
He will stay, even if it kills him. In the few moments that they usually have, he clings to him vehemently. He absolutely refuses to let go. The moon begins to call out to him as they drift away, and he ignores it, instead pressing his face to Francis' chest and squeezing his eyes shut.
"What's wrong?" Francis asks quietly, fingers combing through his hair. His hand feels incredibly soothing, and Arthur finds himself raising his head if only to allow Francis to continue touching him in what time they have left, because it's much too difficult to stay while the moon tugs at every fibre of his being, beckoning him.
"I want to stay," Arthur murmurs, but already he's backing away. Not of his own will. "Please don't let me go."
Francis' hands capture his wrists and he's caught in place, and suddenly he's in agony as the moon cries out for him. He smiles. His feet are rising above the Sun's fires now, but Francis surges forward and pulls him down, pulling his cloak of sunlight around him and holding tightly.
The moon is wailing in his head, and perhaps if Francis could hear it he'd let go, but Arthur won't tell him to do so because he must stay. He must never leave again. Francis is saying something under his breath, something to calm him, and he realizes that he's screaming with the moon.
They are together in their agony.
There is something besides that agony, though. Some….relieving of pressure. It's too far to jump back now, and it seems to Arthur that the moon has realized this. The screaming in his head isn't as loud anymore; it fades more with each passing second. But even as the connection that has bound him to that rock for millennia breaks, he feels a flash of unbearable loneliness.
Not his own.
He's left the moon to drift through space alone. To pilot itself. To share its existence with no one. He's just as cruel to the moon as he thought it was to him. Hell, he's worse.
Arthur cries.
Francis comforts him.
They used to fight all the time. Verbally. Physically. It was their idea of companionship many, many years ago. Being kept from each other for so long has made them absolutely desperate for something quiet, kind, peaceful between them. So they simply hold each other, and Arthur rests his head against Francis' chest and weeps. For the moon and its loneliness, and for his own pain, and some of his tears are tears of joy because after so many years of wanting to be with Francis, he finally has what he's desired so desperately for so long.
"I love you," Francis tells him quietly, rubbing his back, and though he's heard it millions of times before, those are the most perfect words in the universe right now. Perhaps the most perfect in all of time.
He doesn't stop crying, because he feels something close to devastation over what he's done, but he smiles through the tears anyway. "I love you, too. So much."
By the time he's finished speaking, Francis has pulled him in for a searing kiss, one that leaves his lips burning and rueful for kissing the embodiment of the Sun but aching for more and more and an eternity of kisses that don't hurt nearly as much as they heal. He intertwines his fingers with Francis' and shifts to be more comfortable, and Francis puts his free arm around him, his chin on Arthur's shoulder.
"Will you stay forever?" Francis asks.
Arthur hesitates. He know he shouldn't. But he wants to, and he's so sick of choosing what he should do over what he wants to do. "Yes." The moon will get on fine without him, surely. "For eternity, I'll stay."
Francis' tightens his grip on Arthur's waist and nuzzles his cheek affectionately. "Good."
He is so warm and Arthur is so content in his presence. It's safe. Reassuring. Of course he made the right decision. He's had near millions of years to dwell on it; he can't possibly be wrong.
Even if he is, he doesn't much care.
Arthur is cosmic.
He is celestial, he is towering, he is the embodiment of the moon, in all its solitude.
He's fallen in love with the Sun, in all its radiance.
And he's no longer alone.