Fallen Máni: Water

Jonathan laid on his bed, finishing his film history assignment. 

After his incident with Manuel he run away into the woods, where he chided himself once more. His left hand still hurt, from punching a tree trunk in a fit of rage at himself, as he fought back hiccups and tears with little success. 

He didn’t know for how long he stood there, practicing every curse word he knew of, before he made his way back to town. Hockey helped him clear his mind, but he couldn’t wipe out that moment, that embarrassment, that self-hatred, no matter how involved he was. 

Ending up with a somewhat mediocre performance, he decided to call for a ride, and his father picked him up. 

They talked, narrowly avoiding touching the source of his sour mood. When he arrived to his apartment he simply took a shower, dressed himself in bland blue pajamas and opened his laptop, continuing the same project he’d been focusing on for the previous four days.

Now, he typed, occasionally clicking on notes and PDF documents sent by his teacher. 

Jonathan took it upon himself to take these classes. It was a never ending source of friction between him and his parents but, for that moment, he managed to achieve some level of compromise.  Even if momentary.

He was working on a presentation about the history of stop motion animation. He took pride on how he was able to work on it without neglecting his homework, something he fantasized about gloating should his parents force the issue.  He knew it was petty, and it made him feel a bit bad.

A bit.

Eventually, the scent of onions and meat wormed its way into the room. Jonathan grunted, as he was just about to talk Laika and he didn't want to lose that train of inspiration, that good vibe that drove him to write tens of paragraphs in mere seconds.

Alas, his stomach was stronger than his heart - and much stronger than his brain - and he headed for the corridor.

“Oh, I was about to call you in” Helen said, laying the tableware.

Jonathan nodded, and helped his mother. Arthur, having just noticed him, joined in as well, and they sat opposite sides of the table.

“So, how’s your presentation going?” he asked, almost absent minded.

“Basically done. Homework too.”

“Excellent!" Helen said, "I love when you get productive like this."

"Indeed. Productivity is where the soul meets the mind."

"Thanks, guys" Jonathan concluded.

Helen then brought what she had been working on for the previous half-hour: grilled cow tongues with onions and a thin, cinnamon-rich sauce. Mashed peas laid neatly to their side, soaking up in the sauce.

"That's kinda...different" Jonathan said.

"Yeah, I have to agree with him here" his father said, "Smells good, though."

"Come on, just try it" Helen said brusquely, before serving them.

In an uneasy balance between hunger and hesitation, Jonathan picked the smallest tongue. It wasn’t bad by itself, but the cinnamon sauce left a strong flavor that he didn’t find very pleasant.

“Oh come on, the sauce isn’t that bad” Helen said.

“Your words, not ours” Arthur replied.

Helen rolled her eyes, and left the table. She returned from the kitchen with a bowl of lettuce and tofu. Both father and son used the broad, uncooked leaves to separate the meat from the sauce, laying the tongues on top of the lettuce. 

It worked with moderate success, but regardless they managed to enjoy the rest of the meal. Jonathan and Arthur split the last tongue, while Helen ate most of the tofu. It was a largely silent meal, in spite of Arthur's and Helen's multiple attempts. 

After a strawberry pie for desert, Jonathan and Helen went on to clean the dishes.

“Honey, you seem a bit upset” said Helen, spreading detergent over the utensils, “Is there something you want to just vent?”

“No mom, I’m fine” he said as he scrubbed off a dish.

"Is it because of our fight? Look, we don't want to crush your dreams, we're just a bit cautious, that's all."

Jonathan cringed.

“No, it's something else. I don’t want to talk about it.”

In retrospect, Jonathan felt he said it too brusquely. Helen, however, simply nodded, and both kept washing until the tableware was blinding. Jonathan then returned to his room, and continued his work. 

But the good vibe was gone and he couldn’t focus. His thoughts returned to Manuel, to his sudden and desperate exit. Angry, he turned off his laptop, sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at the wall.

Suddenly, he noticed something on the corner of his right eye, and turned his head in that direction. 

A white light seemed to shine in the distance, a glimmer coming from uphill, as if a star was hiding behind it. It flared amidst the coniferous canopy, and Jonathan found its white radiance alluring.

Part of him wanted to investigate, but he was reluctant to do so. Going after unknown shiny things just didn't end very well in most movies. And he didn't want to explain to his parents why he was darting off in the middle of the night - not without Manuel to hide him.

But there was just something about that radiance, something that tugged inside of him. Something that lured him out of his lack of inspiration, something that lured him out of the awkwardness, something that lured him out of his guilt.

As if on cue, it shone brighter, the sheer luminosity and fullness of its rays increasing, flooding the bedroom. Jonathan just couldn't look away, as the light flared in his eyes and emptied his mind, erasing all ambient sound. 

He had just enough awareness to carefully tuck the laptop away, before falling on the sheets. Even as he now stared into the ceiling, the whiteness flooded his senses, his mind, his soul. 

So you love the Moon said a voice, like light passing through a screen, Interesting, if tragic.

W-what are you talking about? Who are you?, said - no, I'm thinking - Jonathan.

I am light. And you are drawn to whom I seek, the Moon’s soul.

Jonathan was as confused as he was enraged. Great, a cryptic conversation, he mentally grunted. He hated that trope.

Almost on cue, an image burst through the whiteness. It was rather sudden end to the blankness, making it as clear as day to Jonathan.

Manny?

Yes. He is the Moon god, severed from his body and trapped in human flesh. That is why he can control water and darkness and emotions, that is why there is chaos in the air, in the seas and in the world. His absence in the firmament is laying the world to ruin, and he does not even know it. 

The whiteness returned, harsh like midday.

A sense of heaviness run through Jonathan’s body, almost like drowning.

I'm dreaming. I have to be.

No, you're not. Control yourself, ambitious one. I can see that you have always chased after perfection, to reign your whims. 

Do not falter now.

And, just like that, the light was gone. Jonathan exhaled, the sound of his breath leaving his lungs increasing as the ambient sound returned to him. He felt calm and serene, feeling as if he had just slept for four weeks.

He checked his phone: he had been out for four minutes. 

Jonathan stretched himself, and yawned.  He felt himself renewed, as if that light had burned away his worries.

So much so, he was finding himself unable to be worried about what just happened. He knew he should be freaking out, to be losing his mind over what just happened, to question what just happened.

Yet, he couldn't.

Jonathan stared at the ceiling. It was dark, but it was a void just the same.

***

Manuel walked fearlessly into the night. 

The darkness was his domain, and it had never scared him in the slightest. It felt like a part of him, albeit not like a limb like water did. It was nonetheless malleable, his control of the black nothingness making it almost feel like an actual substance.

He walked through a forest, a short cut to Jonathan's apartment. It was almost completely silent, except for his own footsteps and breaths, and the occasional insect noise. It would almost be contemplative, if he wasn't in such a hurry.  

Suddenly, however, came something that made him stop in his tracks. 

First, it was simply a distant glimmer, then a bright white point amidst the branches, then large white rays that quickly illuminated the forest. His eyes hurt,  and Manuel instinctively cloaked himself in deep shadows.

The light increased in scope and power, but shone outside of that blanket of dark void, like the Sun seen from deep underwater. The brightness expanded, trying to penetrate this barrier, but it only managing to circumvent it.

To Manuel, it felt like watching an explosion unfold around him, something that sent shivers down his spine.

Manuel’s surroundings quickly acquired a mute brightness, like sunlight filtered by particularly dark sunglasses. It kept pushing, testing the darkness, and a few rays passed through, and he found it harder to keep the light at bay. 

Adrenaline rushed through him, and he jumped around, not sure where to run but also trying not to trip. In the process, his right shoulder knocked against a tree, knocking a mistletoe flower, that softly landed on his head.

Suddenly, the radiance dimmed, less and less able to pierce through. Gradually, the pressure began to fade, and so did the light. 

And, just as suddenly as it appeared, the light darted back from whence it came. Once more, the night reclaimed the forest.

“What the hell was that!?” blurted Manuel to himself, rubbing his shoulder.

He stared one last time at where the light came from, the distant west, before darting off himself, running as fast as he could. The mistletoe flower was dragged behind by the wind, and it fell silently into the forest floor.

Soon after, the forest ended, almost no space between the meadows and the urban trappings.  Light punctured through the shadows from houses and streetlamps alike, and Manuel couldn't help but feel a small shiver.

He quickly passed through the wide spaces between houses before he reached the street. There, he halted: cats, everywhere. 

"Of course" grunted Manuel.

They turned towards him, some hissing, some meowing and some purring. They obstructed his way, forcing him to jump around like a gazelle. He quickly grew frustrated, not wanting to hurt them. 

Yet, as he felt their claws sink into his legs, the temptation was there. He winced, gently pushing the cats away and stomping the ground violently with his boots.

After evading the feline mass for several minutes, Manuel could already see his destination: a large, blocky brown building, almost something out of London suburbia. It was a stark contrast to the surrounding  white houses, something he appreciated greatly.

Something else also caught his eye: a strange chartreuse glow, radiating from nearby, amidst the houses. He felt intently curious about it and almost strayed towards it, but a meow snapped him out of that, and he carried through to Jonathan. 

As he did so, however, the glow seemed to follow him, passing through behind the houses at his exact pace. Freaking out, Manuel sped up, and it also followed faster. 

Of course.

The silver-lining to that became clear to Manuel, however: in no time, he arrived at the porch of the building. A glow crowned it, its leaf colored light emerging from behind it like a halo. 

A house halo, he mused, distracting temporarily from his nervousness. He walked up to the porch, shadows dissipating from around him. 

However, just as he was about to step in, the cats returned en masse, blocking the way. In just seconds, the felines formed a formidable wall of fur and claw, standing perfectly still with their eyes wide open, judging him.

"Oh c'mon on!" Manuel said, exasperated.

But the feline wall only thickened. The cats no longer showed any hint of aggression - or affection -, but their sheer number was enough to intimidate Manuel, and as more came in he was forced to take a step back.

Fuming, Manuel reconsidering calling Jonathan's parents. Once again, his blood run still, and he threw the idea aside.

He circumvented the building, reaching its opposite side. Here, a cypress stood, four meters away from the building, its branches reaching a few feet above Jonathan's window.

And, next to the tree, was the source of the glow.

She was an old woman, dressed in simple green tunic with gold trimming. Her eyes were of the same color, reminding Manuel of Sól's absinthe cup, and her hair of an almost white yellow. Two darker streaks were visible, adorned in small brass rings and amber jewels. 

In her left hand she bore a distaff, in her right a spindle, the two objects connected by strings of many colors. 

The sound of meowing filled the air, and the cats surrounded her, rubbing against her legs.

“Who’re you supposed to be?” asked Manuel.

“Someone you would do well to hear” she said, in a dry voice, that reminded Manuel of scorched earth,  “You shouldn't waste time. You should prepare to become the Moon once again.” 

Great, another god.

“Thank you for your... advice" Manuel said, "but I really need to see how my friend’s doing. Like, right now. So, by all means, f-”

The women stomped her distaff into the earth, and Manuel shivered.

“It's if you give him space" she said, "he won't like to see you now. Time runs short, you can afford to wait and focus on the greater picture.”

“Yeah, no. I need to see him now.”

“You will make things worse for him. Meanwhile, the world desperately needs your soul back.”

Manuel ignored her, in part because he wanted to see how she'd react. He reached for one of the cypress's low-laying branches, but it moved out of reach.

“Think things through” the woman said, weaving with her tools,"for once."

Manuel clenched his fists, then breathed deeply.

“Please don’t do that again.”

“Why not?" she replied, "You're just going to ignore me.”

Manuel almost burst a vein.

He walked up to the building instead. The space between the bricks barely accommodated his fingers, and it hurt like hell, but it had to do.

“You’ll break your bones” the woman said.

“Shut up!” he shouted, wincing as his fingers scrapped between the bricks.

Then, he realized that, no matter how bad it was for his fingers, his boots didn't fit at all.

He slipped, and fell on his right shoulder, already bruised from the tree. He cried out in pain, and was almost sure that his shoulder blade was broken.

“I warned you."

She vanished, along with her glow. The cats stared at Manuel, shook their heads, and walked away.

“Well, screw you too!” he shouted, groaning in pain and anger.

Suddenly, the window opened, and Jonathan looked down.

“Manny!?” Jonathan asked, "What are you ... What the hell happened!?”

“I think I broke my shoulder.”

“I'm coming down.”

"At least tell me you've eaten strawberries" Manuel quipped, "They make it taste less salty."

And with that, the window closed violently.

Manuel rolled around to try to use his left arm. He winced, and decided to stay up, staring at the nightsky above.

Dots of light could be seen in the dark blue, the dim glimmers that arrived to his eyes after billions of years of traveling through the void. For a moment, he felt insignificant, until he realized just how far his domain stretched.

So much space out there, such a vast darkness, an ocean deeper than any other, veiling mysteries untold. If he oversaw darkness, then that infinite void was all his.

Far beyond the ocean, his power extended across most of the universe.

Careful, don't get too comfy. It's still all mine.

"The hell?" Manuel questioned.

He had heard - no, felt - words in his head. It wasn't a voice, it was almost as if the darkness itself was talking to him.

Am I going mad?

Maybe. With power.

Who are you?

Oops, gotta go.

Whatever that "conversation" was, it was cut short when Jonathan, still in his pajamas, came running towards him. Helen came right beside him, carrying a bag of ice.

“What were you thinking!?” she shouted, “Why didn’t you just knock on the door like a normal person!?”

For some reason, the way she enunciated it rubbed Manuel the wrong way.

“It’s complicated” Manuel winced, not really looking forward to explaining himself.

“Well, now you hurt yourself because of that. I’m gonna call your mom about this, how’s that for ‘complicated’?” Helen said, motioning for him to show her where he was wounded.

“She’s out until tomorrow, so I don’t think she’ll be doing anything about it very soon” Manuel retorted.

Helen sighed. She helped Jonathan apply the ice.

"Here, hold on to the bag" she said.

She then gently helped him up, and they walked around the building to the porch. Jonathan kept up next to Manuel, and they exchanged glances briefly, before looking aside. 

Manuel stared into the nightsky one last time, before the warm glow of the building bathed him.

***

Jonathan opened the door, and they walked to his room. 

Manuel sat on the couch. Arthur had left just before he had arrived - how convenient - and the furniture still had his warmth and smell. It felt slightly weird, and he welcomed that distraction from the pain. In several ways.

“I should probably take you to the hospital” Helen said, "Just wait a minute while I look for my keys."

“I’m feeling better now” Manuel said, massaging his shoulder.

“You sure?” Jonathan asked.

He sat next to Manuel, slightly skeptical.

“Yeah, I think it’s healing" Manuel replied, shifting uncomfortably.

Helen sighed.

"In that case, I'll be in my study" she said, "If you need anything, ask, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She walked out of the room, without even looking at Manuel.

Jonathan sighed, rubbing his temples.

“I'm sorry, man” Manuel said, guilt voiding his insides.

"No, it's alright" Jonathan said, his back leaning against the couch, "Though, you need to start getting along with my parents better."

“Yeah" Manuel nodded, "I know."

They sat in silence for a while.

“About that kiss” Manuel threw in, “Do you, like, love me?”

Jonathan stared at the ceiling, trying to avoid eye contact.

“M-maybe?”

Manuel bit his lip. Screw it.

“I love you too.”

“Y-you do?” said Jonathan, surprised.

They stared at each other's eyes. Jonathan's stare was rather intense and pleading, and Manuel's turn to falter, momentarily looking aside.

“Yeah, I do, or at least I think I do, and I’ve felt this way for a while now.”

“For how long?”

“I think it was when you told me about your film classes. You were just so happy and passionate about them, and, well, I couldn’t help but just be happy as well. And the way you fought so hard for them! I think all of that just gave me an epiphany or something.”

Manuel paused a bit, reminiscing, before continuing:

“I love you Jonathan, everything about you. You’re so passionate, always doing what you feel like doing without being mean-spirited about it -"

Unlike me, Manuel noted mentally, sadness momentarily coursing through him.

"- always so invested in what you do, always so warm and playful and true to yourself. You’re cool, you’re smart-”

“You’re delusional.”

“No, you’re totally the delusional one, if you think you’re not smart.”

Manuel rose from the chair, and sat next to Jonathan again. There was a tension between both, building up like static, like the air before a lightning bolt stroke. 

Or back in that storm, when waves rose above his knees.

“Do, do you want things to go further, between us?” blurted Manuel.

"I..." Jonathan paused, "I don't know."

"I guess it's a bit sudden, eh?" Manuel offered.

Jonathan nodded.

"I do want things to go further" he said, "I just have a lot in my mind right now."

Thoughts of Sól and Bil and Hjúki rushed into Manuel's mind, and he couldn't help but nod.

Still, Manuel could see that Jonathan was frustrated. Something in him stirred, like a whirlpool, and he looked at Manuel with pleading eyes.

 "Maybe after my assignment...”

"Hey, we'll take this out our own pace, okay?" Manuel said, his hand touching Jonathan's jawline softly.

Jonathan calmed down, and Manuel's hand moved lower, covering Jonathan's.

"I mean" Manuel continued, "Isn't how things are supposed to be? Aren't all those relationship advice apps saying to 'take things slow' or whatever?"

"Pretty crappy if you ask me" Jonathan scoffed, "It feels like a moat, you know, when you just wanna run over it but you know you'll fall."

"Well, I can push you up thanks to my water witchcraft."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, and punched Manuel in the shoulder.

"Wow, you jerk!" Manuel winced theatrically.

"Sorry, I forgot" Jonathan said, lowering his head.

"Well, if nothing else, we're still bros" Manuel teased.

"God, you know I hate that word" Jonathan said, "Especially now!"

"Because incest?"

"...I didn't think about it like that, but you just made it more gross."

"Good" Manuel yawned.

Jonathan kissed Manuel in the forehead, and gently eased him into his chest. Manuel's head rested on Jonathan's left pec, and he noticed how firm it was. Not the most comfortable pillow, but he couldn't bring himself to complain... at all, and began to close his eyes.

"Mom, can Manuel stay for the night?" Jonathan yelled.

"Sure" Helen yelled back.

"Jesus" Manuel said, his head ringing, "I wouldn't mind if you just left me in the couch."

"I wouldn't mind if you just came in through the front door" Jonathan retorted, stroking Manuel's hair.

Manuel felt too tired to respond.

***

Even before Helen got Miranda's permission, Jonathan laid Manuel on the bed. He continued his assignment, occasionally stopping to stare at his sleeping friend.

Am I like a creeper now?, Jonathan asked to himself.

Only if you're a vampire.

A voice rang in his head like a thought, as if the darkness around him had just spoken. It felt familiar to him, yet it was as if it had just sprung out of nowhere. It reminded him vaguely of the light, a presence that wasn't as much a true voice but a sensation.

Light, dark, it freaked Jonathan out either way.

He stared at Manuel again, and the anxiety and fear dissipated. Ah, the power of love.

So you love the Moon, it rang again, with a small white flare.

Jonathan decided it was enough for that night, and saved his work. Almost completed, but he didn't want to risk an aneurysm or worse.

Jonathan laid next to Manuel, and stared at the ceiling for a while. The two of them had slept together before, but this time it was awkward. Years of knowing his scent made it comfortable for him, yet a new, musky quality to it made him feel uneasy.

He rolled around, facing away from Manuel. It didn't ease things at all, and it only made him feel lonely and guilty.

Screw it.

Jonathan rolled back to face Manuel. To his surprise, he had also rolled, and was facing him as well. Jonathan froze, his cheeks boiling.

Screw it.

Jonathan hugged Manuel, pressing him against his chest. He realized how well his friend's frame fit against his body, between his arms, and he felt a warmth inside him, the opposite of that loneliness.

"Dude, you're choking me" Manuel said.

"S-sorry."

Manuel began snoring, something he only rarely did, and Jonathan couldn't help but kiss his forehead. 

He fell asleep soon after, dreaming of an expanding whiteness. Not a searing, voiding light, but the textured, cold surface of the Moon.