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41 Days: The Moonwalkers

Summary:

On a day out with his queer platonic partner, Charlie Spring makes a discovery on his way to the Moon.

Notes:

Isaac and Charlie are both ace-spec and in a queer platonic relationship with each other
Charlie is also poly and has been exploring his demisexuality through online connections

Work Text:

“It isn’t deja vu if it’s actually happened before!” I laugh as we hurry through Granary Square amid the squeals of children delighted by the dancing fountains.

“More importantly: do you think you’ll be able to stay awake?” Your eyes sparkle with the dig and I elbow you gently while we smile at each other with the shared awareness that our crappy sleep hygiene once again threatens the best laid plans.

I’ve always loved repetition. A scale practised over and over, each tiny improvement adding incrementally to the next until the curve tends to perfection. A meal so familiar as to bore those with an adventurous palate but comforting to my change-averse brain. A joke I know is coming, subtly subverted on the last iteration so that I can’t breathe any more.

And here today; my third time immersed in the awe-inspiring stories of man’s journeys to our moon. For me, the experience is enhanced by the anticipation of the feelings that I know will come, the giddy expectation of all of the moments when I will gasp and cry, and the way my heart will soar.

We slip out of the dusty heat of the summer’s day and into the artificial cool of the Lightroom café, ignoring the buzz of the juicer and the smell of fresh coffee as we scramble for our phones.

Tickets are flashed at the attendant’s scanner, and the buzz of a notification tells me I have something to look forward to when the show is over.

~~

It’s everything that I remember. Particularly because – not for the first time – we arrive late. A sense of reverence descends as we walk alone through the darkening corridors to the sound of Kennedy’s Rice University address. I am already welling up when we spill out into a vast room where JFK seems to be speaking directly to us.

“Why choose this as our goal?” The command in his voice resounds in my bones and the first salt traces to my lips when he tells me that we choose to go to the moon because it is hard, because the goal will serve to measure ‘the best of our energies and skills.’ The enormity of the task, the importance of every component, the emphasis on the whole being reliant on the flawlessness of each part… it’s overwhelming. And yet they did it.

I wipe my eyes and we make our way to the centre of the floor, pulling cushions in towards us so that we can settle together for the show. You catch my eye and mouth to me that this is amazing, and I can’t help but smile at your wonder as you look around the room. Every surface but the ceiling is covered in pictures of the people whose efforts combined to achieve the unimaginable.

It would be easy to forget that we aren’t alone, resting against each other and listening, completely focused on the beauty around us. The images shift and change until the room loses its shape and we are enveloped in a limitless blanket of stars. My eyes drift shut as the gentle score seeps into my subconscious, but, eager not to miss a moment or prove you right, I force them open again even as the soaring strings try to carry me away.

I take it all in hungrily, my gaze sweeping across the view. The involuntary tug at the corner of my mouth speaks of the awe it inspires in my heart. And then, a glint of something among the constellations… a new twinkling in the darkness.

It’s so brief that I could have imagined it. A flash of recognition that turns to a surge of adrenaline as my body works quicker than my mind.

I turn to you and your expression changes to concern.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” you whisper.

I motion to the other side of the room.

“It’s Nick?!” you gasp, the excitement in your voice reminding me how much I love you for being on this journey with me.

I nod.

“Charlie? Go!!”

~~

For a few breathless moments I look back at the stars and contemplate the astronomical odds: 9 million people – plus tourists – and somehow we are in the same room at the same time. Did I make you real? Did the pull we feel manifest our meeting? Are we the only versions of us to have this? I think of the alternate realities full of near misses where we skim off each other's orbits.

I know I need to act, but I can’t seem to calm myself. It is futile to imagine my pulse normalising, my breathing regulating, or the power of speech returning while you are just metres away from me. Instead, I lean into the excitement of the moment. When I sneak a tentative glance your way I find your eyes again and I know you’re smiling before I can even make out your features.

Mission control emerges around us. I’m barely taking in the sights and sounds but there’s a sense of purpose in the atmosphere, and I move with a confidence I don’t feel until I have reached your bench and slid into the space next to you.

For a moment, we seem suspended in time. The engines fire and the room is engulfed in flames, overwhelmingly bright and loud. I can feel the way we tilt at the same angle to watch the ascent before the sky darkens again. As the moon comes into view, I feel the gentlest touch of your hand on my shoulder.

I turn in slow motion as it sinks in that you’re real, and you’re here. Your lips brush my cheek; one side and then the other. And now we’re touching, our soft skin connected, and I can feel that I’m lingering too long but I can’t pull away because I’ve fallen too far already. Frozen in the moment, nestled against the warmth of your smile, grounded by the touch of your hand as you trace the shape of my arm and slip your fingers into my palm.

Your breath comes softly to my ear and I shiver at the sound of your voice; raw and unfiltered. At once the same as in the countless voicenotes and calls we have shared, but with a depth to it that resonates in my soul.

“I can’t believe you’re here…”

I can’t do anything but shake my head. “I know, it’s wild,” I whisper, my own voice already strained with emotion.

A hiss from behind breaks the moment, embarrassment papered over with hushed sorries and silent giggles. I pull my knees to my chest for comfort, breathing deep lungfuls of the air now infused with your scent. It mingles with the memories of my body until I am intoxicated.

I look back to Isaac, and it isn’t long before he spots me and flashes me a smile that speaks to me of security and encouragement. I’m overwhelmed with affection for my partner, and the brimming promise of embarking on a new journey with Nick.