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“Did you hear? The earth has two moons right now.”
They’re in Leehan’s truck, this beat up mess of metal scraps and chipped paint he had salvaged two summers prior, driving through some beach town in the dead of night. They’ve been on the road for a while now, the sun having dipped beneath the horizon hours before. The only source of light emits from their headlights, dull with old age, guiding them through the thin layer of sea mist. Faint silhouettes of palm trees and cozy vacation homes fly past the window Taesan peers out of, and a slow Christmas ballad plays low on the radio, staticky from the poor connection.
His eyes drift to the sky. A waning gibbous, stark white against inky black. There’s only one of them.
“I don’t see it,” he mumbles, pulling his cheek off the glass. Condensation forms around the space where his skin touched.
“It’s hard without a telescope, but still—isn’t it exciting?” Leehan gushes, ignoring Taesan’s skepticism. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “We get to live in the same timeline as two moons, even if it’s only for a little while.”
Taesan hums. “You do know it’s technically a comet, right? And they’re more common than you think.”
“Who cares about the technicalities of it all? The air is different, there’s been a shift. Don’t you feel it?”
He doesn’t. He never quite understood Leehan’s optimism, his whimsical view of the world. The hypotheticals, the disregard for logic, gut feelings—it all clashed. Taesan is a realist, blunt in a way that’s off-putting for most.
The sky appears blue, but it isn’t, just a trick of the light in the atmosphere. The human eye protects and it projects, replacing ultraviolet rays with soft ceruleans. Yet, despite the illusions, people continue to face the heavens and praise its beauty. Meteorologists say that two moons orbit the earth, though they aren’t necessarily telling the truth. There's only ever been one in existence and there will never be another, the current phenomena nothing but a comet playing pretend for a few weeks until its path diverges.
On a more intrapersonal level: Leehan is his best friend, someone who knows Taesan like the back of his hand. He remembers everything about him—his likes and dislikes, his hopes and fears, everything in between. The number of the lecture hall they met in during freshman year of college, the specific brand of pudding he buys at the convenience store, the face he makes when he’s struck with inspiration for a new song. He shares his joy and simmers in his sadness, having seen the rawest versions of himself and cherishing each and every one. He can tell when he’s too in his head, when the self-doubt creeps in and he’s in desperate need of an escape. It’s why they’re on this drive in the first place, why Leehan had dragged him away from his bed and the twenty-five square meters that make up his dorm room. He’s always there when he needs him most, not because he has to, but because he wants to.
Leehan is his best friend and Taesan wants him in a way that best friends shouldn’t, and that’s all there is to it. Nothing more, nothing less.
Technicalities.
He shifts in his seat, looking out the window again.
“I guess.”
The conversation tapers off, and they fall into a renewed period of silence. It’s comfortable, though. It always is with Leehan.
“Where are we even going?” Taesan suddenly asks.
Leehan hadn’t mentioned any destination, simply dragging him to the truck and buckling him in, taking off with nothing but a half charged phone and an outdated GPS. The analog clock on the dashboard says it’s half past eleven. It’s probably wrong.
“You’ll see,” Leehan replies. “We’re almost there.” He spares him a quick, reassuring smile, and while Taesan’s stomach would normally twist at the prospect of not knowing, it doesn’t this time around.
They take a right and head down a gentle slope, the beachfront straight ahead. Leehan pulls into an empty parking lot, worn gravel and sand crunching beneath the tires. He shifts the gear into park, grabbing his keys.
“Let’s go.”
They’re by the water now, sand mushy from the high tide and making Taesan’s sneakers sink into the ground. He tries not to think about the mess it’ll make in Leehan’s truck later, instead focusing on the sky full of stars and the vast expanse of ocean. Taesan has been to the beach before, but never at night, and never this far from the city’s outskirts. He appreciates how he can point out the constellations, Orion and Cassiopeia, the like.
The wind picks up, nipping at his nose and sending chills down his spine, through the fabric of his hoodie and straight to the bone. He thinks about the windbreaker he left behind in a pile of clothes on his bed.
“It’s fucking freezing,” he mutters, hugging his arms close to his chest in hopes of preserving some body heat. He can see his breath, tendrils of grayish-white leaving his mouth like smoke, cold air jabbing at his lungs.
Leehan throws his head back and lets out a laugh, melodic and playful. “I told you, you should’ve brought your coat.” Then, more tenderly, “C’mere.”
He unravels his scarf, charcoal gray, and wraps it around Taesan’s neck, cashmere soft and smelling faintly of his cologne. He watches as Leehan ties it into an intricate knot, securing it.
“Better?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from his face, eyes searching for any form of discomfort.
Taesan’s heart is in his throat; he swallows it down.
“Better.”
Leehan’s lips curl up into a soft smile.
“Good.” He tugs Taesan close, interlocks their fingers and tucks them inside his pocket. His breath hitches at the way warmth seeps through Leehan’s gloved hands, woven cotton against numb skin. He doesn’t pull away.
“So,” Taesan starts. “Care to explain why you drove me hours away from our university—on a weekday, mind you—to take me to the beach?”
“It’s not just any beach,” Leehan pouts. He takes his free hand, the one that isn’t in Taesan’s hold, and points towards the ocean. “Look.”
Taesan follows his line of vision and watches the water with bated breath. Up until that point, there had been nothing unassuming about the scenery in front of them. The water rises and pushes onto land, retreats and repeats the cycle. Obeying the gravitational pull of the moon, abiding by the laws of nature.
What follows is almost magical.
It’s subtle at first, barely noticeable. The faintest hint of blue that Taesan had initially written off as his eyes adjusting to the darkness. But then the waves pull back and surge towards the shore and the water glows, sea foam luminescent in vibrant shades of sapphire and aquamarine.
Taesan’s eyes widen, and he feels Leehan give his hand a squeeze.
They stand like that for a while, fingers intertwined, listening to the ocean’s waves crash against the sand, rhythmic. The colors remind him of a mood lamp he used in his childhood, now tucked away somewhere in a box back home. It’s peaceful, tranquility washing over the calamity in his mind, racing thoughts slowed to a mere trickle.
“Isn’t it pretty?”
Taesan fixes his gaze on Leehan. He isn’t looking at him, but he can still see his eyes gleaming with childlike wonder. Taesan would rearrange the entire galaxy if the other boy asked, would carve out space for a third moon if that’s what he desired.
Right now, at this very moment, the center of gravity is off kilter. Everything they’ve shared on this beach—their closeness, their intimacy—is sacred, a secret meant for just the two of them, the ocean, and the night sky.
The air is different, there’s been a shift.
The earth has two moons, the water glows in the dark, and Taesan is very much in love with his best friend.
He understands it, this shift. Technicalities be damned.
“It’s breathtaking.”