the moon [h.s.] - EDITING

welcome to the final show.

"No truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see that sadness through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sadness that comes to us without warning."

Harry closes Luna's copy of Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. She once read in front of him while she was doing laundry in her flat building in New York City. Now, Harry feels cold. The pale and gloomy morning weather outside might be to blame as he sits out on the porch swing of her home.

He doesn't know how he's made it this far but he has. It's only been a few days. He hasn't seen Luna and the loneliness feels just as real as it did when she had left him that one time. He hasn't spoken to her either. According to Mariana, she's tired, weak, and doesn't feel the need to talk.

Though, today's the day. He is set to finally see Luna in the evening and switch places with Mariana for the night. He can't wait. Even though he couldn't be more eager to see her, he's also afraid. He's afraid he might break down the plastic barrier that keeps him apart from her. He's tried of being apart from her.

The only reason why he hasn't gone insane over the past few days is because of Santi. Looking after him has kept him sane. He made a promise to Mariana to keep him safe and out of harm's way and he intends to keep it that way.

Santi's at football practice though and Harry's alone. He picks up his mug of dark coffee and Luna's unfortunate heart-swelling choice of a book then heads inside. He closes the door and heads down to his commodious space in the basement.

Maybe he could write to her, he gets the idea.

She wrote him a letter once. She wrote to him on a pink paper torn from a spiral notebook to let him go and Harry still can't forget about it. It still saddens him to think Luna tried to push him away. He guesses it isn't too surprising because she's done it before. Though, that's Luna. That's his girl, his love, and the woman he's determined to marry no matter what. She kind of reminds Harry of Naoko, Toru's first burning love and arguably destined soulmate in the book he just read. Naoko left Toru after she gave herself to him. It's understandable, Naoko had problems of her own. She possibly couldn't have given Toru the love he intended to have because of her problems. When she wrote to him, telling Toru where she has gone—to a sanatorium to get the help she needs—she told him she had prepared herself to never see him again. That reality, the parallel to Harry's own life, had him grit his teeth from the familiar ache he felt in his chest. He also saw a little bit of himself in Toru. Though, he doesn't think he would have been able to move on and run to Kristen, his mad, beautiful but cruel and teasing ex that reminds him of Midori—Toru's other love that Harry formed a small hatred towards.

So Harry's going to write because he's been inspired by Toru's letters. He might even read his love letter to Luna when he visits her later. Maybe, just maybe it'll put a smile on her face. That smile, the smile where she shows her teeth, will be worth every second that he's spent without her.

Harry sits down on the couch with a pen in his hand and his lined journal opened flat on his lap. He writes and then he can't stop.

When he finishes, Harry holds his journal of written words in front of him. He smiles at the thought of reading his letter of effortless writing to Luna.

It didn't take him long. Not when she's his muse. He had so much to write, so much to say, about how much he's grown with her. Fuck, has he grown. He allowed himself to love fiercely when he once believe all love was calamitous.

He closes his journal and sets it aside the moment he gets a phone call. It's his mum calling. He's quick to answer her. "Hello!"