And if you wait for someone else’s hand,
Then you will surely fall down

He has spent an eternity staring at her. It was predetermined by the human who slowly built them from an unfeeling block of stone, who gave immortality to the image he spent so long crafting in his mind, but that artist was cruel. Unable to look away, he can only absorb the careful grace of the fingers that reach back ever so slightly for him, memorize every detail of the curls cascading down her back, but she never sees him. She stares firmly ahead, chin tilted up and one arm reaching for something no one can see. As much as he observes, he has yet to find a flaw in the marble glittering in the sun and moon both. Does she even know he exists?

Words have passed, endless streams of meaningless conversation that never change as the children grow up and leave, new ones filling the voids. A few stop on their way to lessons, stare at her as he is cursed to do. He envies how they can feel her even though he reaches and reaches out to her, and a few press their warm hands into his infinitely cold ones, as if trying to take her place. They talk of him, so surely she must be aware he exists. None of the children know what to call the two- they have no names, no identity - they’re just pieces of rock sitting prettily in a school full of more beautiful magic than they could ever dream of possessing.

Just once, they are given a chance. On the Calends of July, as the last rays of light are trickling towards the window, he sees her start to change. It starts at the very tips of her fingers; they soften and gain human wrinkles as they darken, and if he could smile, he’d be grinning from ear to ear as she hesitantly flexes her fingers, now with a full human arm. It’s still slowly trickling across her body, and he can see the beginnings of dark brown curls, her toga now hanging loosely around her body, not held in place by stone. With a gasp, a tiny, breathy gasp that makes his being warm from the inside out, she hesitantly moves every joint before throwing her head back and letting out a laugh.

But now it is his turn, and as he slowly feels, well, feeling meander through his body, turning his porcelain skin to a darker tone, though lighter than hers, he feels his mess of blond curls fall loosely around his face.

What is the first thing he’s going to say? He needs her to turn around, to see him. Instead, a choked sound escapes as he tests his legs by jumping down onto the stone floor below.

It’s then she turns around, a perfectly imperfect smile on her lips as she exposes her crooked teeth. If she were human, she’d have dimples, and he wants to cry because he sees her. He’s dreamed and wondered about the girl who’s face he’d never be able to see, and now he has and she’s more perfect than he could have imagined. There’s no way to tell her just how long he’s waited for this moment, but he doesn’t want to interrupt her joy. Suddenly, she’s spinning. Spinning and laughing and letting her dark mass of curls bounce up and down because she doesn’t care.

“Is that all you want to do?� he asks, though he is amused. His voice comes out somewhat deep, and he’s shivering in only his rather revealing toga, but oh, it feels so good to smile. To be able to reach out and touch her, and to see her. “They haven’t given us forever.�

“I want to enjoy this. Try it; just spin until you get dizzy. We can get dizzy!� With each second, she sounds more and more ecstatic. “Come on! It’s like you said - we don’t have forever, so just try it.� Grabbing his hands (his eyes widen… he’s touching her, and he never fails to notice how perfectly her hand fits in his), she starts to spin him in circles, and then he feels a laugh bubble out of his throat and join hers, and he drinks her in. Memorizes her face, imbeds the throaty sound of her laugh into his memory forever. But now it’s his turn, and he drags her through the corridors, laughing and yelling as they make their way down to the ground.

“Where are we going?� she asks as they run along, and briefly, he pauses. She runs into him with a little ‘oof’.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to feel the grass?� he replies, allowing himself a cheeky smile, and watches as her eyes widen. So they continue, and before long they come to the place where courtyards turn to grass, and he hesitates. What will it feel like?

Squeezing his eyes shut, he reaches one toe out. When he feels a soft tickling beneath it, he presses down, letting his other foot do the same. The feeling is odd, but the grass is soft and warm in the summer heat, and nervously, he sees her take the same leap. Then, she looks up.

As always, he looks at her instead. How long has he waited to see her face carved perfectly into marble, only to prefer the flaws that came with being human. How there’s slight wrinkles by her eyes as she smiles upwards, entranced by something else. Then, he feels her fingers on his chin as she tilts it upward, now carefully judging his reaction.

What is that in the night sky? Bright twinkling lights, so many he cannot begin to count them all. They’re the purest form of white, and something entrances him as he tries to make shapes and ideas out of them. No student has ever spoken of these beautiful beings, but he thinks naming them diminishes just how wonderful they are.

“What are they?� she breathes, her hand now intertwined in his.

“I have no idea,� he can only reply, before sitting down. Her hand in his, she is pulled down with him. “But we’ve seen the castle. Let’s stay here tonight.�

“We don’t have names.� There is a small frown on her face, and her dark hair is splayed around her, a stray one landing in the corner of her mouth. “I’ve heard the students pass, calling each other names. Why weren’t we given names?�

“We aren’t human. See?� Sitting up, with her facing him, he hesitantly grabs her hand, putting it against his chest. There is no heartbeat, no sign of life. “We’re simply playing at it.� He can feel her shiver slightly, and her grey eyes bear into him with a deep and quiet sadness.

“But we can feel. I know we can. I’ve spent a forever staring ahead, unable to look back at the man they talk about, and I feel. To want is a feeling, right?� she asks, her voice sounding desperate.

“I’ve spent the same forever wanting to see someone forever facing forward,� he confesses quietly, taking both of her hands in his own. He will never get enough of touching her, of being able to just reach out and grab her hands, and he doesn’t want to have to let them go. “Let’s make our own names.�

“Okay,� she responds, a watery smile on her face. “But on one condition. We name each other.� When he nods, she returns the gesture nervously. “There used to be boy with a camera. He took pictures of everything, even us. Someone said his name was Colin, but I haven’t seen him since the night the castle shook.�

“I’m Colin.� There was a mystery in his voice, and she swore a tear leaked out of the marble man’s eye. To have a name is to have an identity, she thought, and she had no clue why the girls marveled at the pair of them, calling them ‘beautiful’. She’d take their human flaws any day to be able to move, to talk, to be more than stone in a castle. “Well, there’s a girl who’s talked to me before. Says we must have a sad story, to be stuck like we were. She said her name was Luna.�

“I’m Luna. You’re Colin. We’re human,� she says quietly, suddenly aware of how tightly their hands are clasped. It’s her turn to drink him in; from his mess of golden hair to his muscled appearance, with the one scar that never appears in marble - the time he cracked in half is evident in the jagged scar that runs across his abdomen. Releasing one of her hands to trace it with her fingers, they lay back against the grass.

“It seems cruel, to give us one night, then doom us to eternity as stone,� he comments after a while. “Torture, almost.�

“Well, it’s also a blessing. Think how we’d feel if we never got to do this, to be human, if only for a little while,� she counters, turning to face him. He’s still facing the twinkling lights, though she sees the sky is slowly turning lighter and lighter.

“We don’t even truly feel. Humans, they talk of love, of pain, of feeling so many things they don’t know how they feel, and we’ll never have enough time to experience that. It’s like we’re starving and they gave us a bite of chocolate cake, only to turn us away to starve again.� His voice sounds angry, so she rubs circles with her thumbs over his hand.

“You’re far too metaphorical, Colin,� she says, laughing. “But how’s this for a bite of chocolate cake?� Remembering the boy and the girl a while ago, she leans in, pressing her lips against his. It’s an odd experience, but she can see why the humans enjoy it. She feels his chapped lips respond softly against hers, and surprisingly, she doesn’t taste marble. She tastes something sweet, with a little hint of heat as his hands intertwine in her hair and she leans against him.

“What was that?� he asks as she pulls away, though his hand is still in her hair.

“I…� She tries to find the words to explain, but she can’t. He cuts her off by pressing his lips against hers, lying her back down on the grass as he leans over her, their noses brushing as he breaks them apart again, just staring at her with more feeling than marble should ever possess. Rolling off and next to her, he stands. Immediately, she joins him, leaping into his arms as she forces their lips to touch again. Now he’s spinning her as her legs wrap around his waist, until she jumps back down, spinning again. He tries to drink in everything around her: the sky, the lights, the castle, the grass - but then the illusion ends as she stumbles as a human.

In an instant, he is beneath her, gently helping her back to standing, until something catches his eye. Orange. Their time is running out. From behind her, he gently caresses her soft face, tilting it forward, where the bright colors are seeping into the edges of the skyline.

“No. I can’t. I don’t want to go back.� She turns to him, and he’s acutely aware of just how human the tears are. They have no heart, only this simulated warmth and fear and crying. “I’ve just met you, and I can’t go back to being a statue. It’s not fair.� Now he’s nestling his hands in her hair, leaning her forehead against his.

“I know, but gifts can’t last forever. We aren’t human, and it doesn’t have to go back to the way that it was before,� he reassures her, inhaling her slightly grassy scent and leading her away from the sun chasing them. “We’re in control this time.�

“I want chocolate cake,� she says suddenly, and smashes her face against his. There’s something inherently greedy about this time when their lips meet; they’re frantically trying to find something to hold onto, something to keep their two permanent gifts - sight and thought - in check when they can no longer move or feel. “Colin, we’ve got to go back.�

“I know… Luna,� he replies, hesitating when he says her name. She knows he doubts their power, that by giving themselves names and being human they’ve done something wrong, that this is a punishment. But no lightning magically strikes them down, and he follows when she grabs his hand and pulls him along to their little corner. They stop to touch lips more, and each time he lifts her up slightly. He loves her dimples.

“We don’t have to be in the same stance. I can’t spend more time not looking, not touching,� she whispers as the light closes in, finally home. They’re sitting next to each other, hands (as always) intertwined, her head leaning into his shoulder as their legs dangle over their ledge. “We could literally stay like this forever.�

“Can we?� he asks. “Or will we just snap back to where we were before, where all I could see was hand stretching backward and the back of your head. I don’t want that, I don’t, but what if-“

“So what if it doesn’t work? We have to try. I’ve never seen you before tonight, and if there’s a chance I could keep you infinitely-“ she explains, eyes staring up at him. Already they seem to be losing their color; everything seems to be slowly turning back to the greyish white that makes him sick to his nonexistent stomach.

“Infinity is stupid. Humans are lucky; they can live and die and be hurt and be everything or nothing,� he cuts her off, and she laughs.

“They think the opposite. They’re jealous that nothing changes for us,� is her response, and he touches his lips to the back of her hand, still attached to his. “Please, just stay here.�

“I will. But it’s almost over.� Sure enough, as the first true rays of light touch her side, she slowly hardens back into marble. Right before it reaches her face, she makes sure she looks at him, now attached to his marble shoulder. There’s fear in her eyes, but it changes to something else as she positions herself so that she won’t ever look away. “Thank you, Colin.� Then, the dimples vanish as she turns completely to stone, and he must wait to do the same.

One sob escapes him as he stares at the beautiful Luna in front of him, one that he can feel ever so slightly, even if the warmth is nothing compared to before. And then… he is stone, too, the lone tear erased as the last of him returns to its natural state.

To him, she has always been beautiful, but she is more than that now as he can glance down at her forever. The man who made them called them beautiful, and he guesses that is what man seeks. But in their brief time in humanity, he never sought that kind of beauty - he sought emotion. He’s said many times to himself that he loves her, and though they never said it, he knows she knew. It’s terribly hard to spend endless lifetimes with one person for company without falling in love with them. He hopes that in the one night he knows her, she falls in love with him, too, and that she will never be lonely for as long as they both remain intact.

They are more than two pretty statues meant to be seen. They force humans to do what they do best, to feel, because it is impossible for anyone seeing her like he sees her (has always seen her, really) to not feel. They were given a gift, and he dearly hopes that is their gift back.


And maybe we won’t feel so alone
Before we turn to stone