The Midnight Star

When the Moon Rises

As evening settled over the city, a quiet tension filled the air in Matthew and Taerae's apartment. The full moon was only hours away, and each tick of the clock seemed to echo louder, a reminder of the choice they would soon have to make.

They moved through their nightly routines with uncharacteristic silence, their thoughts weighed down by uncertainty. Matthew glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of the sky growing darker, the faintest hint of silver illuminating the edges of the clouds.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, breaking the silence as he turned to Taerae.

Taerae looked up from where he sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers fidgeting with a worn thread on his sleeve. "I don't know if 'nervous' even covers it." He let out a soft, almost hollow laugh, as if trying to shake off the dread.

Matthew walked over and sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "We've made it this far, though," he murmured. "Together."

A quiet smile tugged at the corner of Taerae's mouth. "Yeah, I guess we have." He glanced down at their hands, his fingers brushing over the back of Matthew's hand in a gesture so small, but one that felt incredibly intimate in the stillness of the room.

Matthew took a steadying breath, then looked up at Taerae, their eyes meeting in the dim light. "If we have to go back... I mean, if we decide to go back, are you afraid things will be different?"

Taerae hesitated, the question hanging heavily between them. "I think... I'm more afraid that things will stay the same." He looked away, his voice barely a whisper. "What if we go back, and we have to pretend this never happened? Like we never felt this way?"

Matthew reached for Taerae's hand, holding it tightly. "Maybe we don't have to pretend. Maybe... we don't let things go back to how they were."

Their eyes met, a silent promise between them. The closeness, the trust, the quiet understanding—they both knew it had changed them in ways that couldn't be undone. The bond they'd formed, the feelings they'd discovered—they wouldn't let those slip away.

As Taerae held Matthew's gaze, his eyes softened, a mixture of worry and quiet resolve shining there. "Whatever happens," he began, voice barely above a whisper, "I don't want you to think... that any of this isn't real."

Matthew's heart raced at Taerae's words. The moment hung between them, fragile and intense, like the moonlight spilling over the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but Taerae silenced him with a gentle shake of his head.

Before Matthew could register what was happening, Taerae leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Softly, he pressed a quick, tender kiss to Matthew's lips, a fleeting touch that held both a promise and a sense of urgency, as if he was pouring all his fears and hopes into that brief moment. Taerae lingered there for a heartbeat, then slowly drew back, his face warm, his eyes holding a quiet determination.

Matthew felt his breath catch, his heart fluttering in a way that grounded him, yet made everything feel weightless. Taerae's touch was reassuring, like he was telling Matthew—without words—that no matter what choice they made, he wasn't going anywhere.

"I just wanted you to know," Taerae murmured, his voice barely audible, "so you never doubt it. No matter where we end up."

Matthew's hand found Taerae's, squeezing it with a depth of feeling he couldn't put into words. "I won't. Not after this."

They sat together in comfortable silence, their hands entwined, each of them letting the moment settle into their bones. With Taerae's gentle touch still lingering on his lips, Matthew felt a renewed strength, a quiet reassurance that he could face whatever came next—as long as he had Taerae by his side.