Chapter Text
You awoke to the sound of seagulls and waves crashing. The noise carried through the wind, softly landing in your bedroom. You checked your calendar, and you looked about, and you were alone. You pulled off the covers silently, looking to the window and then to the door. The window was cracked open. The door was closed. You could smell the sea breeze waft into the room, causing you to take a deep breath in and then out. Soothing. You rose from your bed and felt your feet hit the cold hardwood floor, planks creaking slightly You stretched, yawning, and made your way to the door and proceeded to the stairwell.
It was dead quiet, and you wondered for a moment if he was gone
He wouldn’t leave without you, right? The ocean surrounded you for miles and miles. All would be lost without him and yet he seemed to disappear every few moments, every spare second he tore himself from your view and surrounded himself in night.
You proceeded to the stairwell, pushing the bad and the worse thoughts aside. He would not leave without you, though little morals the two of you carried through the years of turmoil you’d seen, you had both agreed on this fact as if it were written in stone, a blood pact.
The stairwell led upwards to where he likely resided. The sun was rising soon. He enjoyed watching the stars fade into blue, as if he were meditating and as if he were the night. And as you pushed the door to the roof open, you realized you were his day.
Soundlessly, you crept onto the roof. He looked upon you as if you were bright or the sun or another star in the sky. You smiled and he turned away as he did.
You shuffled closer to him, sitting beside him on the railless roof, upon cold concrete.
Wordlessly, he turned to you and back to the sky. He pointed eastward.
“Perseus,” he spoke. You nodded.
“Didn’t he slay medusa?” You asked him. He smiled at you. Rare, a diamond smile.
“Yes,” he nodded.
“I think that Medusa was misunderstood,” you spoke. He leaned into you, resting his head upon your shoulder.
“She was. It wasn’t her fault for anything.” You leaned back into him as he spoke of mythos and as you smiled back. “Medusa may have been a temptress, however she alone should not have been punished for the seduction of Poseidon. He himself should have taken at least some of the blame, but alas, the past was a patriarchal time,” He continued. You agreed, snaking your hand over towards his.
“Are you a patriarch?” You joked. He shook his head.
“No, I’m a feminist. We are the future, we must be,” he explained. “It’s our duty.”
“So who’s the woman of the house?” You asked.
“Hal 9000.” You laughed at his remark.
“Is it not Lil Hal or Halogen?” You questioned.
“Ask the AI, not the maker. He changes it daily.” You nodded.
“When’s the wedding between you two?” He snorted in regards to your comment.
“Never, hopefully.” He ran his hand back through his hair. “I hate him as much as I hate myself.”
You frowned, glancing up at him. His shades reflected the soon to be illuminated sky.
“You shouldn’t. You’re wonderful.” You spoke with honey on your lips. Dirk ignored you.
“Why do you lie to me?” He asked. You shook your head. He would be the death of you one day, you swore on it. You crossed your heart on it and crossed your heart as to how you would never lie to him.
“I don't lie to you. What would be the purpose in that?” You retorted. Dirk looked to the sky. He pointed towards the center.
“Pegasus,” he spoke.
“Rainbow Dash constellation?” He smirked.
“Maybe Princess Luna put her there.”
You both sat still for a while, watching as the sky turned lighter, slowly a gradient creeping up the horizon. Lighter and lighter and you saw his eyes glow in wonder. You at least felt them, though concealed behind his shades. You turned to him once more.
“Why do you wear those?” You pressed. He shrugged.
“I don’t like myself.” You didn’t like yourself either and you didn’t wear stupid sunglasses.
“Take them off,” you commanded. He cocked his head to the side.
“Why would I do that?” He questioned.
“The sky is beautiful, you should see it.” He reached up and took his glasses off, looking up at the dusken night.
You could see his orchard orange eyes shine full of stars and amazement. He turned to you and he smiled.
“Never have I once seen something more beautiful,” he whispered.
“You come to the roof every night to see the stars,” you said. Dirk shook his head.
“No, no,” he began. “Never have I once seen you without my shades.” He grinned. “Never have I once seen someone so beautiful.” You shook your head.
“You must have lost your mind, friend.” You grabbed his hand, holding it in yours.
“I did long ago, but so have you, remember?” You don’t remember. The sky churned in navy, the gulls spoke louder.
“So maybe we are both mad,” you explained. He nodded.
“It’s a certainty.”
You leaned into him. He kissed you. You smiled into the kiss. You loved him and he loved you and neither of you had to voice that to understand that it was there.
You could simply feel it. You could see it in his eyes once concealed.
You could nearly imagine a life without him, but you couldn’t quite as he pulled you closer into his lap. You broke away, leaning into his chest and hugging him close to you.
“I never want to let you go,” you grumbled into his chest.
“Then never let me go and we may both die here.”
“But we promised never to leave each other, never to die without one another and to stay in your arms is to be a sin among ourselves.” You pulled away slightly, still holding him.
“Exactly.” The night spoke with he who was caught within it. You would pull him out one day, but he loved you enough that he would do it on his own. He would be too stubborn otherwise, dear nightman.
And so you sighed and leaned back upon the roof, watching the stars fade and the clouds turn. And he watched you lean back and he watched you as you leaned in closer to him once again, planting a kiss on his cheek. Rose dusted your faces. You were not alone here
“We don’t need to say I love you,” you said. He shook his head.
“You know that I do.” He squeezed your hand. “I’m too embarrassed to say it aloud either way.”
“But why are you embarrassed to love me? Is it not true?” You asked.
“No, I’m embarrassed because I love you more than myself.” You shook your head
“Is that not what true love is?” You questioned once more. You did not know. He did not know either. So you philosophised as to what human nature would be.
“It might be,” he spoke after a long pause. You nodded.
Maybe one day you would come across a philosopher as great as the two of you. Maybe one day you wouldn’t. That was another mystery for you to philosophise.
Dirk sighed. You sighed in return. The two of you giggled and held each other upon the cold roof with your warm embraces.
“When will the sun rise?” He shrugged.
“Someday. Once the world burns to the ground, then we will become the sun,” he spoke.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
You sat there, silent, a mutual understanding of love. Maybe it was not love. Neither of you knew, so you guessed. You hope you are a good guesser. You hope he is as well, out of sheer narcissism. You hope you both know love.
But you think you felt it on that roof as the sky churned like the sea below and surrounding until blue encompassed the two of you. The sun rose above the salty horizon and you turned to him, desperate.
He glanced back upon you.
You were the sun and he was the night
You were his sun and he was your night.
And so you kissed him and embraced him. Then you rose and returned to the stairwell, your night following suit.
“Sleep?” You asked.
“As always.” You giggled. You opened the door to the room, returning to the bed. He climbed in with you, falling under the covers. He was closer to you than he had ever been, and you placed his glasses on the desk besides you.
You turned back to him, lovingly. He reached out to you and you fell into his arms, falling swiftly back into your slumber
You dreamt of love, though you didn’t really need to anymore.
So one day, when you awoke, you saw him not next to you. So you stood once more and returned to the stairwell, climbing and seeing him. He held out his hand, and you took it.
And some day, you woke up, and he was still next to you, resonating love as an aura, your beacon and your night.
You could feel his dreams. You could understand his inner empath as he slept and as he slept next to you today and tomorrow and the days that might follow suit.
Time was an illusion, as he always said. You agreed.
And so you slept.
Perhaps for too long, for when you awoke, he left once more.
But he always returned in the end.
You had promised him that.
And he had promised you the same.
You awoke for truth this time. He was not there as you always expected.
You turned to the other direction to see him typing at his keyboard.
“Good morning,” you spoke, stretching and yawning.
“Good morning,” he resonated. You smiled and rose from your bed. He turned his chair to face you, smiling. He donned his shades once more. You understood, they blocked out the blue light from his computer. You wished he didn’t wear them as often, though.
“What are you doing?” You asked him.
“I’m writing.”
“What are you writing?”
“You ask a lot of questions, love.” You giggled. You couldn’t help but have a curiosity towards the only other real person in your life.
“Yes, I am,” you retorted. “What of it?”
“I find it amusing. You like to question and I like to answer.” He turned back to his work. “We are the greatest of our time.”
“We are the only of our time.”
“That as well.”
You stood and walked towards his chair, looking upon his work. He was writing, just like he told you.
“You’re writing something.” You leaned your head on top of his.
“I am, don’t read it.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll let you read it once it’s finished, love.” He exited the tab as if to spite you. You scoffed.
“Ok, tell me when.” You walked back over to the bed, sitting down.
“I assure you I will.”
You grabbed your phone, laying down. You went around, playing useless games as a mindless boredom reducer until Dirk called out to you.
“I finished the writing,” he spoke. “I wrote it for you.”
You stood quickly, nearly flashstepping over to his computer. You read.
‘So be it I’m told, though love is not gold, that what I know answers my pain.
From dusk now to dawn, and through what's going on is a message from heart and not brain.
A solemn sung tale from the lovers who sailed from nowhere to nowhere again.’
Though nothing is new, but what I’ve been through seems to be the first time in a while.
That feeling is old and is rusted yet gold and I know that my heart will prevail.
I’ve fallen in love, thank the stars once above and thank nobody plays in the rain.
Thank gods in the sky who need not to ask why we have fallen in love once again.’
You smiled at him. He looked to the side, embarrassed. You kissed his cheek, making him blush.
“You’re a dweeb.”
“I’m your dweeb.”
“And I love you,” you told him. He nodded, he knew.
“I love you so much more than I can write in words, so I didn’t finish the poem.” You hugged him.
“You’re right, but it feels lacking without a proper end, don’t you think?” You explained.
“I think it's symbolic,” he said. You loved him so much deeper than his word.
“I love you. I can’t explain how much but you need to know that it is so much.” You planted a kiss upon his lips. He reached his hand up, stroking your face. He tasted like artificial sugar. You could spend days upon his lips.
“It was only a matter of time until we fell in love, don’t you think?” You asked him.
“You mean to say we weren’t in love from our first breath?” He returned. You thought for a moment, turning to his writing then back to him.
“I don’t remember when we fell in love.” He grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling you onto his lap and hugging you.
“Let’s say it was now.” You laughed, reverberating his love throughout the room.
“I know at least that it’s been more time than that.”
“Well, when do you think you fell for me?”
“Forever ago.” You kissed his cheek. He kissed your cheek. He felt cold.
“You’re cold,” you told him. He sighed.
“I know,” he shuffled in his seat slightly. “Warm me up.” You smiled and shook your head.
“Come cuddle, stupid.”
“That works for me.” The two of you stood up and returned to the bed, holding each other close as you warmed up in your embraces.
“I don’t want to fall asleep,” he spoke.
“I’ve slept too much today, I don’t want to either,” you explained.
“Just cuddles then.”
“Just cuddles then,” you agreed. He smiled and you moved closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He was still cold. The blankets were warm. You loved him.
He leaned in to you and kissed you sweetly, pulling you into him as closely as he possibly could.
“I wish we could be here forever.” You nodded in agreement.
“We should, just for fun.”
In some world in some way, you did. You loved him enough to do so. Right here, you stayed put in his arms, warming him up.
He smiled.
“What is life?” You asked him. He snorted.
“Getting real metaphysical here today.” He laughed. You fell deeper in love with him.
“So? I can have questions,” you complained mockingly.
“You can, I know.”
The two of you sat in silence for decades, you grew old together in a matter of minutes. You looked up at him and he looked up at you.
“I love you,” you spoke.
“I know.”
“Don’t you love me too?” You asked him.
“Of course I do,” Dirk responded.
“Then say it.”
“I love you.” You felt yourself melt deeper into his arms. “You’re blushing.”
“I know,” you mocked.
He loved you, it echoed in your head. Of course he did, why wouldn’t he? But still, he loved you. Love, love. A silly word, an unfamiliar feeling.
Not that it didn’t feel good, of course.
He loved you. Of course he did. You loved him back.
Without thinking, the two of you drifted to sleep once more. You should fix your sleep schedule, but you don’t want to. If you get cuddles, why would you change that?
You woke up one day, and you kissed him and loved him more through every day and night and time.
Some days, you wondered. Was your love a constant? Was it universal? Could you ever even know the answer to that anyways?
You asked Dirk one day. He shook his head. He said there were too many dimensions. You said that you loved him anyways. He knew.
Another day, you loved him still and asked him for his hand in marriage. He said you and him were already married, technically. You stuck your tongue out and got down on one knee.
Another day, you grew old and died together just as you promised, and then you woke up.
You woke up and he wasn’t next to you. You checked your calendar. You stood up and walked onto the roof, starting your love over once more with the man who was the night and with his lover who was his sun.
Some days, you sat in bed without the will to lie awake. With your whole heart and half a mind, you repeat to yourself what you had grown to memorize and to complete.
By no means were you a writer, but he made you so and you completed his word as such, falling deeper into your infatuation with each written word:
So be it I’m told, though love is not gold, that what I know answers my pain.
From dusk now to dawn, and through what's going on is a message from heart and not brain.
A solemn sung tale from the lovers who sailed from nowhere to nowhere again.
Though nothing is new, but what I’ve been through seems to be the first time in a while.
That feeling is old and is rusted yet gold and I know that my heart will prevail.
I’ve fallen in love, thank the stars once above and thank nobody plays in the rain.
Thank gods in the sky who need not to ask why we have fallen in love once again.
As the light falls within and you turn with a grin as you always end there in my eye,
He who was night and loved me both in spite and in purity while watching the sky.
So fear not what you hear when the light disappears cause the moon never lied to the sun.
For the if and the when and the never again for the true love and the only ones.
One day I’ll decree mark the second degree when not answered and with not a sigh,
If you ever mistake what my happiness makes for a lie, turn to me with a kiss and ask why.
For I know where to go if you need to lay low and if you ever need once a cry.
I’ve made every mistake, swore in every god's name and regretted one million odd lights.
Even such I will know where my happiness grows in the man who forever was night.
And I look to the corner of my room,
A past of immovable doom.
And I know never blight or forever the light…
As I fell for the
He
Who
Was
Night.