Even on the darkest nights, the lean light fingers tickle her face. The moon beams, trickling to the sea, quietly manipulating the secondhand sun. No matter how far he is from her, he's always searching for her, chasing after her, reaching for her. Sometimes she's a little coy and hides behind the earth, shyly out of view. He always finds her and for that, she could not be more delighted.

On her darker days, she turns away from him. Hiding in shame's shadow, she keeps herself from turning back. The sun reaches with warm rays, patiently comforting her until she was ready. It was never easy, comforting her. She was as cold as he was unrelenting, and he would wait until she returned to him… Yet.

Sometimes the moon would hide so fully behind the earth that the sun could not reach or see her. The sun would never see the moon's heart raw, as the earth always blocked the view. We could only watch the crimson break bleed, as we were too far to reach or even stay. Perhaps it was better this way; what would happen when the sun breaks?

They played through the cycle endlessly, and never tired and never strayed. There was never a question of what they could endure, but what would happen if the eclipse had stayed?