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Shylock couldn’t stand the moon.
But that was a bit unfair. What he hated most was its presence in his life. The unending light it cast, the friends it had taken, of course...but next to that, there was a small cry of something else, another feeling he didn’t want to acknowledge, one that would remain buried at the bottom of his heart forever. Yes, in a sense, he was jealous of the moon.
This wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for one insufferable wizard.
Murr spent so much time talking about the moon, about how pretty it was. Something in his heart hurt every time he heard the words “my beloved” coming out of Murr’s mouth. Those praises could be spent on him, if only, if only…
No, this wasn’t something to dwell on too long. Looking down, Shylock’s face was reflected back in the glass he had been absentmindedly polishing this entire time, and he finally set it in its place with a sigh. This bar, so long ago, had held the two of them talking until dawn.
“I would like to hear your philosophy on loneliness,” he had said. Shylock wondered if the answer would be different now that Murr was like this. He wondered if his answer had been what spurred Murr to keep coming back until Shylock warmed up to him. He wondered if Murr would ever ask him a question like that again, would ever stir up those same emotions he had felt those nights. Although, that didn’t seem fair, really. The Murr now and the Murr of back then were worlds apart. That was undeniable, anyone could tell you that.
As much as he told himself that, he couldn’t deny that what he felt was love. What he felt now, what he felt back then, it was just as undeniably love.
He wondered, did Murr still know Shylock loved him?
If so, he was being awfully unfair.
His eyes drifted to the moon, and unknowingly, he frowned. All these bitter feelings he had kept with him for so long, was that part of love? He didn’t know. He suspected he would never know. It’s not as if he resented Murr, far from it, but how long could he stand hearing the one he loved wax poetic about another? Not even another person, no, about the very thing threatening them all? Breaking his eyes away from the light it cast, he instead swept a glance around the bar, making sure everything was in order before he returned to his room. Some sleep would do good to ward off all this reminiscing - sleep, and a nice glass or three of wine.
---
Some hours later, he woke to Murr throwing the window open - he only knew due to the cry that followed the slamming of the windows against the wall. Opening an eye, he rolled over to face the offending visitor, the silhouette of the other wizard dark against the relative brightness of the sky behind him.
“Shylock!”
As welcome as it was to hear his voice, it didn’t do anything to help the thoughts that plagued him so incessantly.
“Murr.”
“Come out and fly!”
Shylock sighed, rubbing his eyes.”Murr,” he grumbled, messily pulling his hair up, “You realize what time it is?”
“Uh huh,” Murr replies back, “and I want to fly with you!”
Maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was the fact that Murr wanted him. Either way, against his better judgement something got him out of bed, and he didn’t know if he should thank or curse it. He held up a finger to Murr before shutting the curtains and quickly getting dressed. Despite how the wizard seemed to lack the common decency not to wake people in the middle of the night, he seemed to at least understand privacy - to an extent. Grabbing his broom and re-opening the curtains, he was greeted with the same smug face he had left behind just moments ago.
“If this turns out to be one of your ill-advised ventures, I’m turning back and leaving you.”
Murr laughed. “You wouldn’t! Besides, I just want to fly under the moonlight! Is that so hard to believe?”
It wasn’t, but he decided not to comment so as to not give Murr the satisfaction of being right about both of those things. Shylock climbed out the window (why he decide not to leave through the door, even he didn’t know) and floated next to Murr, enjoying the night breeze for just a moment before inquiring, “So, where are we going?”
“Hm.” Murr tilted his head, and Shylock swore he could visualize cat ears moving as he thought. “I dunno! Nyaha, let’s just fly!”
Shylock gave an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “Insufferable. I’m heading back inside.” Upon looking up from his dramatics, Murr was holding out his hand. Shylock quirked an eyebrow.
“You always fly too slow! I wanna go fast, so grab on~!”
So Murr had completely ignored him. That was fine. It was a lie anyway.
Shylock took his hand, and no later than his fingers intertwined with Murr’s, they took off.
The wind was cold, and Shylock briefly wished he had dressed warmer for this. Unsurprisingly, Murr seemed to have no issue with the weather, being as strange as he was. Even in the darker skies, it was plain to see he was grinning ear to ear. It was a nice sight, Shylock thought to himself, and then buried that thought among all the other various ones that popped up similar to it.
Eventually, they slowed down above a lake, the stars in the sky twinkling both above and below them. At some point during their flight, Shylock’s bun had fallen out; not very much of a shock with how quickly he had done his hair. Their hands had separated by now, much to his distress, and Murr was spinning around his broom, holding on by a single foot like some sort of circus performer.
Well, now was a fine time to ask the question that had been plaguing him.
“Murr?”
“Mhmmm~?”
“Why did you want me to come with you?”
Murr was quiet then, for a moment. He readjusted himself on his broom, then turned his head to look at the moon towering over them. “My love is beautiful tonight, no?”
Shylock didn’t respond.
Murr looked back at him like the answer was glaringly obvious; like you’d have to be an idiot to not understand. Maybe he was an idiot. Maybe it could’ve been anyone, and Murr just happened to be closest to Shylock’s room at the time. Maybe -
“I guess you wouldn’t know, ‘cuz you don’t have a mirror...”
It’s as if the entire world ground to a halt with that sentence.
Shylock wasn't stupid. He understood the implication. Thankfully, he recovered quickly, a smile gracing his features alongside the blush he wished for the darkness of the night to cover. “Very funny, Murr.”
Murr pouted, getting closer and closer - close enough that Shylock nearly had to move away. “I’m serious! I love you, y'know!”
For a moment, Shylock let himself believe it. The three words he had desperately been waiting to hear had just come out of his crush’s mouth, and yet, he couldn’t believe them. It’s one of those things that’s too good to be true, a prank that doesn’t work because it’s so out there there’s no way it could be believed. And yet, Murr had said it so convincingly, so eagerly, that it was hard to not believe him.
The moon loomed over them, her presence overbearing.
“And what about the moon?”
“I love the moon too, but I love you more than the moon!”
More than the moon. Murr loved him more than he loved the moon. The gravity of the situation set in, and Shylock lost his smile. “You’re serious.” Murr nodded eagerly, and Shylock rubbed his eyes - a dream, it had to be. One likely spawned from how caught up he was with Murr and his own feelings before he had fallen asleep. He quickly pinched his own arm hard enough to hurt, but didn’t feel any signs of waking up.
Alright then, not a dream.
“You...are insufferable.” With that, Murr pouted again, eliciting another sigh from Shylock. “Absolutely insufferable. You know how I feel, but you pulled me out of bed just to tell me this?” Despite the bite of his words, he found himself placing a hand on Murr’s head, petting his hair softly. Murr purred, a smile slowly replacing the pout that had been there.
“I know you’ve always loved me! But I never get to say it because you never say it either, and I got tired of waiting!”
Of course he never said anything. How could he, the moon so bright and ever-present, a constant reminder that he wasn’t good enough? With Murr’s constant love confessions, any man would feel like his feelings were unrequited. Shylock wanted to be angry, wanted to chide Murr for playing with his feelings, but at the same time wanted to throw a party to announce to the nation that he wasn’t a pining fool after all, his feelings were actually returned. Not that there was any chance of that happening, though Murr would probably appreciate such a large event. He stayed quiet until a voice cut through his thoughts, sharp as a knife.
“C’mon, you can say it now, you know!”
He could. He could say it out loud now. I love you.
“You’re a fool.” Though he supposed that applied to both of them.
“Hehe, I love you too!”
Without thinking, Shylock pressed a kiss to Murr’s forehead, and the latter’s face lit up.
“More than the moon?”
“More than the moon!”
---
Shylock hated the moon. It stole lives, it stole friends, and it stole his lover’s heart - although, he supposed, calling Murr his lover was a privilege he had now.
Lost in thought, he gazed across the bar at Murr, who was happily drinking away a sparkling blue cocktail, something Shylock had just thought up. Like his eyes, he thought absently. It was a quiet day, and ever since that night, Murr seemed to be hanging around more and more. Not that he minded, of course, he was welcome to. Shylock closed his eyes, thinking back to the night they shared.
“I love you more than the moon!”
At the very least, he would admit, was no longer jealous of the moon.