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Over the millenia, the Moon had grown used to being gawked at. It was okay with him; he just stared right back. Sometimes, he thought humanity was right interesting. There they were, crawling all over the earth like tiny little ants, building big pyramids and churches and skyscrapers (though why they were called that the Moon could never fathom; they didn't touch the sky at all. They weren't even skyticklers, let alone skyscrapers).
Other times, when the Moon was feeling a little blue (which only happened once in a great while), he resented them a little. All that struggling and fussing about, and in the end it was kind of useless, eh? In the end they all went to the same place. But the Moon didn't. He just kept on revolving.
The ones that interested the Moon the most were of course the ones who were the most interested in him. There were the poets who wrote about his luminosity, whatever that was, or once in awhile, his creaminess, though the Moon preferred to forget that. There were the wolves who howled at him; they did make such a racket! What were they playing at anyway? Furry idiots. And then there were the astronauts and all their lot. The Moon didn't know what to think of them. All they ever wanted to do, it seemed, was plant flags in him, and carry home little bits of rock from his surface. That's a bit rude, isn't it? How would they like it if the Moon stuck flags into them? He'd do it, too. The next time they came up here – bam! Anyway, it was vaguely insulting. If they wanted to know about him, they could just sit down and have a nice chat with him. A Moon is more than the sum of his parts.
They were all the same really. They all wanted something from him. They wanted to use him to make themselves famous, or write papers about him, or calculate how good their luck was. After awhile they got bored and underwhelmed and moved on. The Moon had come to expect that.
For awhile now, though, he had felt a gaze on him that wasn't like the others. Out of the many others that he'd felt, something about it felt special. For awhile, the Moon couldn't quite a lay finger on why this was (most likely because he had none), but very gradually (after a few decades, in fact), he realized it was because this human wasn't demanding anything from him. He just loved to look at him. Ever since he was a little boy, he'd look at the Moon like there was nothing else that he wanted to look at so much. He didn't expect anything back.
The Moon was intrigued, so he took a gander. There was nothing, he thought, particularly special about this person. He was what human beings seemed to consider “ungainly”. His hair looked like a bit of brown fluff. The eyes that peered up at him so fondly and gently were … well, rather tiny. They had a tendency to dart about. Most of the time they were hidden behind a pair of spectacles.
The man imagined himself to be an astronomer, though in truth he was merely a janitor at a very strange hospital. Every night he'd come back to his tiny rented room, which was dominated by a huge telescope. It was unkempt and messy because the man had no time for anything when he was there except for looking at the Moon. Sometimes he drew pictures of the Moon, but he always threw them away because he felt they weren't good enough. In the end he always came back to his telescope.
This man was Moonstruck.
The Moon hadn't meant to do it, honestly. He hadn't even been aware of it when it had begun. He felt a little bad about it really. But he also felt a bit flattered. And he began to feel a bit attached to him.
A long, long time ago, when there hadn't even been humans, just funny little lizard things who didn't build pyramids or notice the Moon at all really, the Moon had heard a story, from one of the other Moons far away, that, once every great while, a Moon could stop being a moon and run about in whatever form he wished, if he wanted to – for a very brief period of time. The Moon had thought this was pretty interesting, but he never had wanted to do it. Even when he was lonely, he didn't really want to go down there. He liked being the Moon, and things on Earth seemed a bit confusing.
Now, however, he began to consider it. What with the Moonstruck Man pining away down there and all … and to be honest, it was sort of nice to be appreciated. As time went by, he became more and more obsessed with the idea of doing just that, until it was all he could think about.
Maybe he was a little struck, too. Though some might say he'd always been.
So finally, on the appointed day, the Moon fell to Earth. And that's exactly what it was like, really. He just sort of decided to do it, and then the ground was rushing up at him, and when he woke up he was very tiny and lying in a meadow. The first thing he did was look up at the moon – not the Moon, obviously. He was the Moon, but the moon was still there, but it was just sort of flat and boring. And it seemed awful tiny from down here, didn't it? He was used to things being the other way around.
Then he took a good look at himself. He had all the same funny things other humans had – four limbs and appendages with little squiggly digits, a trunk – no wait, that was trees that had that … he also had that thing that made him a boy, for which he was a bit relieved, because the Moon had always been pretty sure he was a boy. He hadn't really been sure what would happen when he fell though. He also had hair on his head, and he spent some time tugging at the strands until they came into his field of vision. After a great deal of inspection, he decided it was great hair, maybe the best hair he'd ever seen on a human, even if it was all white.
He was naked too, which didn't bother him, but humans seemed to get a little funny about these things, or at least they did lately. So he decided he'd better find something to cover himself up with.
Walking was a bit of a problem. It had looked so easy to him up there, even babies could do it, after a little bit of practice. He'd forgotten that they usually fell down a lot while they learned. Learning to walk properly was humiliating and a bit messy. It took some time before he got used to his legs.
At the edge of the meadow there was a house, and outside there were some clothes hanging, left out overnight. Pyjambers or whatever they were called. They were a little bit damp and a bit too big for this body he was using, but the Moon didn't think it would be a big problem. He also found a pair of socks, which was a little exciting, because he'd always thought it would be fun to wear socks. He felt quite proud of himself. He had accomplished his first mission as a human.
The next thing he had to do was find the man. That, he realized, might be a bit of an issue. He hadn't really conceived of just how big the world was when you were actually standing on it; he'd noted carefully the places where the man lived and worked, and tried to sort of aim for them generally when he fell, but now that he was down here his perspective was all off. In the distance, he could see a city, and he was pretty sure it was the city the man lived in, so he took off in that direction.
Walking was quite tiring, he discovered. Eventually he reached the outskirts of the city. It was starting to become morning, and the moon was disappearing below the horizon. He'd have to find the man and get everything sorted before this time tomorrow, then.
He'd never seen what morning looked like before properly, and he got a little distracted for awhile by his own long shadow, cast by the rising sun's rays, dancing against the pavement. Before he knew it, he had walked deep into the city, and there were lots of people milling around him. He wasn't really sure where he should go, so he just kept walking, hoping he would spy something that looked familiar.
After what felt like ages, he felt a jolt pass through him, originating from his chest (it was strange having this heart thing beating and beating inside of him, wasn't it?) because he thought he saw the Moonstruck Man. He rushed over to him clumsily and grabbed him by the arm.
“Hullo!” he said. “I … I'm the Moon!”
The man raised his eyebrows and his moustache quirked. “I see,” he said.
It wasn't the Moonstruck Man at all, he realized. He looked almost exactly like him, but the Moon didn't feel that same thing when he looked at him. He dropped his hand. He suddenly felt very overwhelmed.
“Oi, Howard!” A voice called out, and another man walked over. “Don't lag behind. You got me up this early, then let's go on it with it – oh, who's this then?”
“He's the Moon, Vince,” Howard said dryly.
The Moon nodded sadly.
Vince looked at Howard and then back at the Moon. “Why ain't you wearing shoes?”
The Moon looked down at his stockinged feet and wiggled his toes. “Dunno,” he said. “Do you need them, really? Though, ooh, my feet do hurt a bit.”
Vince and Howard shared a glance, and then Vince grabbed him by the arm. “Come on,” he said, tugging him along.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Howard asked as he walked alongside them.
“I'm lookin' for a man … a Moonstruck Man … he looks a bit like you … but he's always lookin' at me, through his, um, his telly scoper.”
“Right,” Howard said, “I see what you're getting at there.”
“In here,” Vince said and they walked into a shop.
“We haven't opened yet!” A girl behind the counter called out, and then she spied them. “Oh! Vince! How can I help you?”
Vince sat him down on a bench and grabbed one foot. “Size ten,” he mumbled.
Howard sat down next to him and Vince and the girl ferried back and forth an array of boxes and began sticking various shoes and boots on his feet. The Moon just sat there, not quite sure what he was meant to do; they weren't exactly asking his opinion anyway.
“So where is this man you're looking for?” Howard asked.
“He lives in a room in a house,” the Moon said.
“That narrows it down a bit.”
“He works in a … a … the place where you go to be better.”
“A hospital?”
“Yeah, that's it. He pushes dirt around with a big brush all day.” The Moon gestured with his hands to demonstrate how he did it.
“What's the name of the hospital?”
“Oh, I know that. It's a funny name.” The Moon told him what it was. Howard made a “hmmm” noise and pulled a contraption out of his pocket and began tapping at buttons on it. The Moon let his attention wander. Vince and the girl were arguing about something. There was a pile of shoes and boots laying around. The Moon looked at them with disinterest, and then he spied something on a display in the far corner of the shop.
He pointed at them. “I like those,” he said.
Vince and the girl turned to look in the direction he was pointing. “Oh, hell no,” Vince muttered.
The Moon stood up and took the boots down from their display. “They're soft and, like … fluffy.” He put them on the floor and stepped into them. “And shiny too.”
“Those are horrible,” Vince whispered in awe.
The girl nodded. “But … for some reason, they work.”
The Moon smiled and tucked his pajama bottoms into his silver padded boots.
While Vince and the girl sorted something out at the counter, Howard walked over to him. He was writing something down on a bit of paper. “You canread, right?”
The Moon was offended. “Course I can read.” He pointed to the display his boots had come from. “See? M-O-O-N. That's me. These're my boots.”
“Yeah, they surely are,” Howard said. “Look, here's directions for how to get to the hospital. If he isn't there, then you can probably find out how to get to his house from there.”
The Moon took the paper from him. “Wow,” he said. He sniffed a little. “I ain't never had anyone do anythin' so nice for me before.”
“Er,” Howard said uncomfortably, and patted him awkwardly on the head. “There, there.”
“Right,” Vince said, coming over. He slid an arm over Howard's shoulders and Howard fidgeted but said nothing. “Enough of that now. You'd best get on your way.”
“Yeah,” Howard said. “It's a bit of a ways to Romford.”
“Thank you,” the Moon said, wandering out of the shop, the directions held up close to his nose.
“And don't go around telling people you're the Moon!” Howard called after him.
“But I am the Moon,” the Moon muttered as he rounded the corner.
When he finally found the hospital, it was past midday, and his stomach was rumbling. He walked up to the admittance desk and said very seriously to the receptionist, “Ummm … er, I'm hungry? I think?”
“All right, dear,” she said. “Why don't you fill out some paperwork and sit down.”
A little dejected, he sat down and stared at the forms he'd been given. He remembered that Howard had told him not to tell people his name was the Moon, so he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. In the end he flipped the paper over and tried to draw a picture to describe his situation. It involved a very wobbly telescope, a big smiling moon, a pair of boots, and a plate of fish fingers.
When he was done, he sat back with a sigh of exhaustion. What a long day it had been! While he'd been busy filling out his paperwork, a little girl had sat down in the seat next to him and was eating her tea of a lunchbox. He looked at her pointedly. “I'm hungry,” he said, grinning broadly and hoping that, unlike the receptionist, she would take a hint.
She looked at him quietly, and then took a cupcake out of its wrapping and gave it to him.
The Moon smiled. “Cheers,” he said, and shoved it fully into his mouth. “Mm. So this is what mouths are for. This eatin' thing is … um … incredible.” The girl giggled, and he stood up and walked over to the receptionist and handed her his paperwork. “Um, you see though, the reason I'm here is I'm lookin' … for a man.”
“A man?” the receptionist asked, staring at his drawing incredulously. The Moon thought that was a bit rude. He'd done his best.
“Yeah,” he continued. “A tellerscope man. He uses a broom.”
“Ahh,” the receptionist said. “I know who you mean.”
“You do?” the Moon said. To be honest, even he hadn't been sure she would.
“Yes,” she said. “That Lewis. Always going on and on about about his telescope. Loony Lewis, that's what they call him.”
The Moon decided he didn't like her very much.
“Well, in any case, he's not here today,” she said, discreetly shredding his form. “His day off. And you'd best not hang around here long, it's nearly three o'clock, and we're usually due for a bout of psychic phenomena around that time.”
“But where can I, um, find him?”
“Oh, he rents a room in Collier Row, doesn't he? At least, I think it's Collier Row.”
The Moon stared at her blankly, and then handed her the paper Howard had written his directions on.
“Oh, for pity's sake,” she muttered. She began writing on the paper. “You can take the 252 to get there. Here's how you get to the bus station. You'd best hurry.” She handed him back his directions.
“Thank you,” the Moon said as he hurried out the door. “I forgive you for bein' a nasty ol' trout!”
“Well, I never!”
He found the bus stop relatively quickly, but he didn't see any of those bus things that said 252 on it. He stood around for awhile, fidgeting. A man waiting for a bus nearby him gave him a withering look and walked over to the other side of the platform. The Moon sighed. He didn't have much time left. Just then, the 252 pulled up. What a relief! He was feeling very tired. He wasn't used to all of this exercise, or indeed any exercise at all.
He bounded up the steps but when he got inside the bus the driver held out a hand. “Woah there. Where's your fare?”
“Huh?” The Moon peered at his directions, trying to figure out what he meant.
“Oh, for Pete's sake,” a voice said from behind him. It was the man from the bus stop. He reached around him and pushed some coins into a contraption. “Get inside! We don't have all day.”
“Thank you, Pete,” the Moon said gratefully, and sat down. The gentle rocking of the bus was making him drowsy; he leaned his head against the window and stared sleepily out at the buildings rushing by him. This city was awfully big, wasn't it? Hard to imagine it started out with a bunch of rocks and mud and sticks. And it had; he'd seen it. He gave a great yawn and closed his eyes.
“Oi, mate, get up,” someone was saying to him. “End of the line.”
“Wuh?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. It was a bit dimmer out than it had been, or maybe it was just his eyes? “Where am I?”
“Collier Row, mate. You got to get off now.”
“Oh, good,” he said, and dragged himself up and stumbled down the stairs. It hadn't been his eyes; it was starting to get a bit dark out. He didn't have much time left.
“'Scuse me,” he said to some boys who were leaning up against a brick wall. “I'm lookin' for a 'stronomer. Well, actually, he's a janitor.” They stared at him. “His name is … Lewis, or somethin'.”
They stared at him again, then snickered and pointed to a yellow house down the street. “Yeah, that nutjob lives down there. You his boyfriend?”
“Well, I'm a boy,” he said, scratching his head. “Today, anyway, I am. I think I might be his friend. That's what I'm here to see him about, right? Anyway, thank you, goodbye!” He headed toward the house. He was finally here.
Tentatively he knocked on the front door; then he decided he quite liked the sound of it and kept knocking. He was having a fantastic time when suddenly the door opened beneath his fist and he remembered why he was here. And old woman was standing on the other side of the door, looking puzzled.
“Hullo,” he said. “I... I'm lookin' for Lewis.”
“Lewis? Really?” she said. “That is … well, he doesn't usually get any visitors.” She looked at him sharply; the Moon smiled back pleasantly. “Well, he rents a room on the second floor. Go up those stairs, it's the third door down.” He started to step inside and then she stopped him. “You aren't selling something?”
“I don't think so.”
“All right then. Off you go.”
When he reached the door, it was slightly ajar. He wasn't sure if you were supposed to knock when a door was open; humans were funny about those sorts of things. He pushed it a little further in; the room was quite dark, and the scant light coming in from the window reflected off of shiny stars that were painted on the walls. The moon, he realized, was just starting to rise, and the Moonstruck Man was seated at his telescope with his back to him.
Just seeing his back now was suddenly overwhelming. It took him such a long time just to get this close to him, and now he was here, and he didn't quite know what to do. Lewis hadn't noticed he was there; he was intent on his telescope, muttering ceaselessly under his breath.
“There's something ...” he was saying, “there's something … something's not right! With the Moon!”
“I think I can explain that,” the Moon said softly.
Lewis jumped about a mile and fell off of his stool. He looked quite sweet really, in his confusion. “Who – who are you --” he started, but then, as he took in the sight of the Moon before him, he fell silent.
“I'm sorry I'm so late,” the Moon said. “I had to come such a long way to get here, you know.”
The man stood up slowly and walked toward him. “I … I don't understand.”
“It ain't complicated,” the Moon said. “I'm here. You don't need to look in that telscapope anymore. Well, at least not for tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. Tonight. But I can come down again, some other time. Maybe. If you want me to.” Suddenly he felt a bit shy. Lewis was looking at him intensely, and it was the same sort of gaze he'd felt all those years through the telescope, only now it was much, much closer. Lewis reached and took his hand and tugged him over to sit on the bed.
“Um,” the Moon said. His face felt very warm, like it was burning up. Oooh, what was it they called that? Blushing? Was this what it felt like? Funny. He prodded his stinging cheek curiously. Lewis was still just staring at him in that way he had. “I like … your stars. On your walls. They're a bit like home, really.”
Lewis let out a breath that the Moon hadn't realized he'd been holding. “I hope this isn't some kind of a joke.”
“A joke!” The Moon scowled. Really!
“Some people don't appreciate my love of the heavens. They're always … calling me names.”
The Moon nodded. “Like Loony.”
Lewis looked affronted.
“Well, they're flippin' fools. I ain't a joke, Lewis. Look at how far I came to see you.” He felt around his pockets and pulled out the paper with his directions. “See?”
“That is quite a distance,” Lewis agreed.
“Yeah. I done all sorts of new things today. I wore boots. I rode on a bus. I ate a cupcake.”
“Sounds like an adventure,” Lewis said, smiling.
“But the point is, I did it so I could come and see you.”
“Why?” Lewis said, a little breathlessly.
The Moon felt shy again. “I … well, I like the way you look at me.”
Lewis blinked. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” the Moon answered.
They sat there for a moment, both looking down at their feet, not quite sure what to do now that they were finally here, together. At last the Moon gave a big, loud yawn and laid down on the bed.
“Ooh, I'm sleepy.”
Lewis watched him for a minute and then laid down next to him. The Moon pressed his face into his arm and sighed.
“How much time do you have left?” Lewis asked.
“I gotta go back up before dawn …”
“So about ten hours.”
“But I'm so tired now. I didn't expect that.”
“That's okay. You can sleep.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I'll wake you up in time.”
True to his word, at half-past four Lewis prodded him awake. It was still dark out but the sky was turning a deep indigo blue. The Moon rubbed his eyes, muzzy-headed and a little disappointed. “I finally got here and I slept through most of it.”
“It's okay,” Lewis said. He was making tea with an electric kettle and he handed the Moon a cup. The Moon took a sip. Ooh, that was hot. He licked the sore spot on his lip; he kind of liked it though. “You're coming back again, right?”
The Moon beamed. “Yeah,” he said. “I will. And next time I'll know where to find you.” He frowned. “Don't go movin' about, or dyin'. Humans do an awful lot of that, I think.”
“That's true, we do. I'll try not to.”
The Moon put his tea down and impulsively leaned over and wrapped his arms around Lewis. He quite liked having arms, really. They were dead useful. He leaned up and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of Lewis' mouth. “Hmm,” he said. “So that's the other thing mouths are for.”
Lewis laughed. “How long will it be until you can visit again?”
The Moon looked thoughtful, which was quite a feat. “When you are the Moon, it's a little hard to keep track of time, eh? How many full moons are there in a year?”
“Twelve,” Lewis said instantly. “Sometimes thirteen.”
“Hm, well, that times three I think. Or six, I can't really remember.”
“Three or six years?”
“Yeah. Is that a long time?”
“Not too long, I suppose.”
“Good. Anyway, even if I ain't here, I'll still be up there, right?” The Moon pointed through the window.
“Yes. It's good enough to be going on with, I suppose.”
“Good,” the Moon said, and gave him another, longer kiss. “Well, I guess I must be going. Thank you for, uh, the tea.”
“You're welcome.” Lewis stood up with him and took his hand. “Er … do you need any help?”
“Nah, I think I can manage. Well, I ain't never done it before, but coming down here was easy enough.” The Moon walked over to the window and opened it, and poked his head out. “Well, goodbye then.”
“Goodbye,” Lewis said, looking a little worried. The Moon climbed up onto the window sill and perched there, slightly wobbly, and gave him a wave. “Wait – you aren't going to --”
“See you in three or six years!” the Moon said, and jumped.
“Shit!” Lewis shouted, and rushed over to the window. But when he looked down, there was nothing there. He sat down at his telescope and peeked through, and then gave a sigh of relief.
“He's back.”