He begs it sometimes, in his head. He asks the moon to take him with her. She doesn't.
It's all his fault. He knows it, he's known ever since her lips leave his one last time. It's all his fault. He doesn't quite know why, but it doesn't matter.
He doesn't know how to atone for his horrible, horrible sin. And then he remembers there is no atonement, not for this. He will struggle with it and hate himself for it for the rest of his life.
He is mostly satisfied with this prediction, but part of him is screaming.