Your gaze…left me speechless. Days past long ago, we used to hold hands and sing Frère Jacques. However, that was back when we both had our feet rooted to the ground.
Then you became the moon. And I became a star revolving around you. “We’ll always be together. Forever and ever.” Your words were so kind then. If only I had known they were false. It was only a matter of time until the star collapsed and sucked the moon inside.
You would always be my best friend. We had sworn in days long past that we would never leave each other. But yet…why was your skin so pale as you laid in that coffin? It was waxy and cold to the touch, your face frozen in a never-ending smile. Your eyes were so elegant, but I couldn’t see them shut in your peaceful sleep. You truly were the moon, translucent pale in its beautiful light. But it was too soon and I couldn’t accept that. As your star, I needed to have a moon to revolve around. So I just reset.
Your face was different the second time, but it was still as pale as before. Sunlight left it red and blistered after only a few minutes. But it didn’t matter. You were my moon and I was your star; we were destined to always be together. It was in the shady reprieve of the harsh sunlight that we sang Frère Jacques once more and made that fickle promise. Perhaps you didn’t remember, but I always would for you. I was prepared to shoulder that burden.
The second time you became the moon, it was a blood moon. The doctors said you felt no pain and it was quick. It wasn’t pretty though. In your careless orbit, you had somehow managed to get in the way of that speeding car. I had hurried behind you, but it was too late. Scarlet littered the ground, but you were still as pale and beautiful as ever. Indeed, you would always be timeless. But time had not been kind to me and I wasn’t willing to let you go. So for the second time, I just hit reset.
You swayed a lot the third time, bones snapping easily. You weren’t allowed to leave the house a lot, for fear of breaking. You were a sickly, porcelain doll. But yet, something about that petulant beauty still captured my heart.
The song played over and over again. Our song. Your voice was so pure when it wasn’t wracked with coughing. Yes, you were immaculate. You were so perfect that the world was out to get you and you had to stay inside. But even inside couldn’t save you from your eventual fate.
The cough had come in the night, slow and deliberate. You held my hand at your bedside, singing Frère Jacques as I cried. Red hair spilled down your shoulders, silken and messy. Your time had come. The hour was upon us swiftly for you to rasp out the last verses. Your pained shivering was so kind, for it helped me accept the beginning of the end. And so you became the moon for the third time. Your time had come, but I was far from done. So, once more, I hit reset.
The fourth time, my heart was beginning to tire. Your eyes were so beautiful, but yet they couldn’t see my face. Even so, your light never diminished. Your hands became nimble, picking out even the slightest of details. You didn’t need eyes with the skill you possessed.
I was your star. Even if you could no longer hear, I’d still guide you till the bitter end. As recognition of that kindness, you took my ambiguous love for you and placed it in your pocket. Everything was going right until it wasn’t.
If I had to call it something, I’d call it a blue moon. The snow frosted your whole body, skin turned blue. Even the dress you wore was a dark sapphire. If I had been paying closer attention, I would’ve noticed your absence. Perhaps it was selfish for me to wish to take your place. I’m not strong enough to support my own orbit. So for that self-sustainment, I hit reset.
Again and again, the clock spun. Every time you became the moon, you only grew in beauty. But every time you became the moon, you seemed to suffer more and more. Your voice became rusty before completely stopping. Your eyes refused to work, and eventually your ears shut down too. You were completely stuck in your own world, unable to communicate. “I’m right here,” I’d assure you, but you couldn’t acknowledge that.
Day by day, the tubes connected to your body increased. You laid on that hospital bed, still and unmoving. The only signs you lived were the beeping of the life support machine and the very slight rise of your chest. My heart was tiring watching you. How many times had I set back the clock? I couldn’t even count anymore. Stars may have long lifespans, but it was all but apparent mine was running short. Your face, as beautiful as it was, was always marred with pain and suffering. Was there a way out of this endless spiral? I can’t move. I can’t breathe. But at least I can see. That’s right. As long as I can be your star and see your beauty then it doesn’t matter what I feel.
And so the broken and gloomy me, in all her pathetic desperation, stood stock still and watched you slowly wither away. I could’ve reset, but what could possibly be worse than what’s already here? I was a failure as a friend and a star. I was a coward.
It was only until your end that I came to a conclusion. I wasn’t ready to let you go. Even after all that time, even after all those resets, I couldn’t bring myself to sink into an oblivion without you. So what if I went with you? Standing by your stuffy, fancy coffin, I knew what I had to do. Pulling out the knife, no one saw me until it was too late.
But I was triumphant. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t see. But yet, I was more alive than I had ever been. There was nothing else to reset and no more times to sing Frère Jacques and dance around like the fools we were. There was just us, alone together in the rest of the universe. You had become a waning moon, and I had become a speck of dust on the outer corner.
And so, both the moon and the star disappeared, forever accepting oblivion. It was easier than being separated. Neither were strong enough to keep on living without the other. At least in oblivion, the moon was beautiful. She was so breathtakingly beautiful, even though there was only one other to see it. There were no more resets or tears. Simply oblivious glee. And it would always stay that way if they had anything to say about it.
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