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The moon never seemed that far to Mirren. He used to be surprised by how close it was, especially to be able to see it so clearly.
Ever since he met Ayyur, however, the moon was the furthest it's ever been.
The water danced around him, clinging to his legs, too heavy to kick off. It was cold but that was perfect, that was the most comfortable for him.
The last thing he would guess about Ayyur was that he didn't like the cold. That didn’t make much sense, it couldn't be too warm in the sky, especially not when the nurse did his work at night.
Mirren often wondered when that Moon would sleep, and what he would dream of if he did.
As a child he would often draw photos of the moon surrounded by sleeping stars, but he never remembered if the moon in those drawings had closed eyes or gentle open ones.
"It's late."
He looked his head up to see Ayyur floating above him, with unfocused and shining eyes. His was waist tied by a rope that fell from a cloud, a thin, white rope that sparkled as if it was made of starlight. Mirren couldn't tell if Ayyur was smiling or not behind his mask.
"It is," Mirren agreed.
Ayyur let out a drawn out sigh and lowered himself onto the water. He shivered instantly.
"The ocean seems pretty upset today," Ayyur noted, listening to the loud, crashing waves.
He crouched down and gave the waves a little tap.
"Poor thing."
His palm remained on the wave, up until a shy fish bumped into him. His eyes creased upwards at the contact.
"Hello dearie," he coaxed.
The fish wobbled onto his hand where he assessed its injuries. Or should I say finjuries. Finjuries. F
"You have a little rock stuck right here," he tapped it's chubby cheek. "You need to stop trying to eat the floor."
Mirren watched the interaction silently.
The moonlight then shone brighter and reached Ayyur's halo, where he held the fish closer to heal its pain, but it didn't completely fix the injury. He had to return to the clinic to assess that manually. Despite that, Mirren's heart felt lighter as the fish healed, and the water felt less cold the more Ayyur hugged the creature.
It became dark again, and Ayyur placed the fish in a little container that had a label on the side which read, "Fish jail."
"Ok, who's next?"
He crouched down the waves and held his hand out once again to repeat the lengthy process.
"You are very patient," Mirren noted.
"I'm not a patient, I'm a nurse."
Mirren stayed silent.
"Please laugh. Please."
Mirren stayed silent.
Ayyur bowed his head in shame.
"When will you realise that I'm so funny and lovable?"
"You are not a real nurse."
The nurse waved his hand and argued, "If it works for a joke I can pretend to be one."
Ayyur yelped when something bit his hand. He moved his hand and Mirren caught the peak of his smile when his mask slipped slightly.
"It's me!" Ayyur declared, holding up a small shark which looked confused.
Mirren didn't respond.
"...It's a nurse shark-"
"I am aware. But you two are not the same. Only one of you is a real nurse."
Ayyur made the same blank expression as the shark. Then, he quietly laughed, before releasing the creature.
"I've never seen an injured nurse shark yet. Lots of hurt moon jellyfish, though. These fish are so stupid."
He picked up a moon jellyfish and stared at his reflection in it's glistening top.
"Look at you, stupid. You don't know shit about anything," he said lovingly.
"Is this part of the healing process," Mirren interjected.
"It's the most important part," Ayyur insisted.
Then, the rope around his waist tugged upwards.
"Oh, I'm so bad at my job. All I did was heal one fish and call another one stupid," he sighed. "I'll have to make up for it tomorrow."
He let the jellyfish go as the sparkling rope pulled him towards the sky again.
"Good night, Ocean."
Mirren watched silently. His legs remained frozen in the cold waters, and he resisted the urge to reach out and grab Ayyur's hands in his.
Ayyur waited for Mirren to respond with a goodnight back but he never did, so he turned towards the sky again and waited to be pulled back to the Moon Clinic.
It was so far away.
