ill met by moonlight: chapter three
Illustration by Phoebe Nerem
chapter three: therefore another prologue
The seven-year-old suede sofa that sits pleasantly in
the Perez household living room had been carefully
determined to be the most comfortable place Leo’s ever
known. That’s where he found himself a few days after
the fateful gala, thumbs tapping against the buttons of
a Nintendo Switch, spilling the entire, albeit short, story
to Indre. He had been too overwhelmed to relay the night’s
events to them after they left, when he scoured the crowd
with cold, narrowed eyes locking in on his target. He had
seized Indre and his mother with a, “We’re leaving,” before
storming out of the venue and into the car, not daring to
utter a word about Nero Mun in front of his mother.
Most of his spiel came out in his signature, woe-is-me whine.
“Honestly, what the fuck?”
Indre, sprawling out on the floor in front of him, has their
green eyes fixed on the toe they are miraculously painting
in mid-air. A low ‘hm’ lingers in their throat before they
conclude, quite matter-of-factly, “He’s in love with you.”
Their pedicure is done, and without a care for the outcome
they immediately hoist themselves onto the couch next
to him. Leo huffs impatiently. They aren’t taking his
endless vault of problems seriously enough. Sensing the
irritation, Indre rolls their eyes playfully and nudges him
with their elbow. “You broke his heart, Leo.” They jut out
their bottom lip in faux-sympathy. “You’re a heartbreaker!”
The cute giggle they let out when Leo throws a pillow at
them almost forgave them for the lack of concern. Almost.
Leo’s pout turns back to his game of Pokemon, lowering
himself to their lap and resting his face on the side of their thigh,
a practice in intimacy they’ve kept going since the beginning
of their friendship. He loses his Pokemon battle after getting
blasted by the move Ember. “I just don’t get it!”
“Uh, you pitted a grass type against a fire type, dude.”
“No,” Leo groans, turning over again. “You don’t think Nero
trying to kiss me out of the fucking blue is even a little bit
weird?”
“Oh, it’s very weird.” Indre’s fingers get caught in Leo’s hair,
tangled in the curls, a soothing technique they picked up
rather quickly when Leo’s unpredictable moods flare up.
“But it’s kinda flattering, right? You’re hot, he’s hot.”
The man in their lap sighed. If his bad mood wasn’t
obvious before, it swallowed the room the second he
shuts off his Switch. It wasn’t uncommon for Leo
to be completely engulfed in his emotions, and even
less uncommon for Indre to be crooning over him.
Indre sighs back and says, “Leo, don’t worry about
boys like him. Maybe he’s used to people throwing
themselves at him, but you’re not them, and you don’t
have to be. It was an entitled and inconsiderate thing to do.”
They smile sweetly, an expert at navigating the swamp
of Leo’s mental labyrinth. “Besides, school’s starting up
in three days. You get to do your little gay dances again.”
This earns a small chuckle from Leo, notorious for his
little gay dances in the theatre department. Though
Indre isn’t involved in drama themselves, instead opting
for a leadership position on the Campus Activities Board,
they’ve been his number one fan since they met freshman year.
Sharing a sociology major put them into more classes
together than they could count, and by the hands of
fate they became inseparable.
And that’s where the pair found themselves three days
later, walking elbow-to-elbow to their Interpreting
Shakespeare class on the first day of their senior year.
The September air has that perfect early autumn scent
carried by a gentle breeze, the sun shining down to
blindingly illuminate the overabundance of buildings
on their city campus. Despite squinting against the
harshness of the sunshine, Leo bears a pleasant smile
while arguing with Indre about one of his favorite debates.
“You have no idea what the Hulk is capable of,” he
comments airily.
“You grossly underestimate the power of nature,”
Indre says, arms clasped around the books and
folders that don’t fit in their small tote. “Besides,
who thinks of that? The Hulk VS. a swarm of bees
the same mass as the Hulk?”
“Not everybody understands the prowess of the
creative mind, Indre. Try not to be too offended.”
They give Leo a deserved eye roll as they navigate
through the maze of students rushing to make their
classes on time. The sharp cold of the building’s
air condition bites at Indre’s bare shoulders as they
enter, always overdressed for the occasion but
underdressed for the temperature. Leo had always
aspired to be the best dressed in the room before
meeting Indre, where he couldn’t possibly compete.
Today they don a strappy baby blue tank top and
white tennis skirt, putting Leo’s casual collared-shirt-
under-sweatshirt outfit to shame. He’s used to it,
and if he must dull his light a bit to let them shine,
so be it.
The two slide into chairs next to each other in the
small classroom. Apparently Interpreting Shakespeare
isn’t a particularly popular elective; there’s only
about twenty or so seats in the room, but the class
fit into both of their schedules perfectly.
“I’m kinda excited for this,” Indre says in a hushed
voice, briefly glancing at Leo before turning over
the syllabus in their hand. “Shakespeare is fun.”
Leo cocks a brow. “For nerds, maybe.”
“Aren’t you the theater kid?”
“Only after class.”
Almost immediately after retorting Leo has to
repress a groan. Angela, another Sociology major
Leo has had the displeasure of knowing throughout
their four years, takes a seat at the front of the
classroom. She catches his eye and blatantly
ignores him before sitting down. It takes everything
in him to not walk out. They had briefly been friends
freshman year after sharing a few classes, emphasis
on briefly. Angela, Indre, and Leo were put together
in a discussion group, and after a few study-sessions
with Indre, Angela revealed her judgemental nature
and rampant homophobia by casually referring
to Leo using the f-slur. There weren’t any more
study sessions with her after that.
Luckily, Leo had been able to avoid her malevolent
presence these past few years, despite having
classes together. They seemed to dislike each other
enough to steer clear of any major confrontation, but
even after fulfilling all of his major credits she still
finds a way to weasel into his life.
The idle chatter of the classroom falls to a hush as
the professor enters and settles into the desk at
the front of the room, looking exactly like a
Shakespeare professor; a bit frazzled and possibly
erratic. This should be interesting.
Not nearly as interesting as the next two students to
walk in, though. Leo’s jaw almost drops to the floor
when he immediately recognizes a frock of shaggy
black hair being pushed up to reveal the stunning
face of Nero Mun.
Mari, of course, follows in step, the two taking seats
at the front of the classroom without so much as
casting a glance to the rest of the room. While the
professor attempts to get his affairs in order, Angela,
the snake that she is, wastes no time throwing a flirty
smile in Nero’s direction and starts up a conversation
too quiet for Leo to eavesdrop on.
It’s all very infuriating. It’s not as though Leo had a
plan as to how to navigate the Mun situation; he was
sure he’d inevitably see them again one way or another,
but he failed to anticipate just how often that would be.
After venting to Indre after the gala, he did his best to
push the incident from his mind and focus on school
(something he had never been particularly successful at).
Now, the brutal irony of the situation treats him unkindly.
He lets a curse slip out under his breath just as the
professor introduces himself. “Good dawning, friends.”
Angela lets out a conspicuous snicker, which the professor
chooses to ignore. “My name is Dr. Burks, but you
can call me Emmett. Or Burks. Or Doc. I think I’ve earned
that title.” A few students offer a weak laugh, but
Dr. Burks recovers quickly with a cautionary introduction.
“I know many of you have taken this class as an
elective, and based on past teaching experience, many
seem to have low expectations. I’m not sure how that
plays out; this is Interpreting Shakespeare, after all.”
He goes on for the next hour and a half, slipping in
comments alluding to the difficulty of the elective,
but Leo can barely pay half a mind. Instead he stares
intently at the back of Nero’s head, mouth twitching
when Angela leans over to him every so often to
exchange whispers. Again, Dr. Burks seems to not
notice, somehow. By the end of the class, Leo’s
blood pressure has skyrocketed to dangerous heights.
As the twenty or so students rise in a hurry to their
next class, Leo hangs back with a cocked brow, not
even glancing at Indre approaching him.
“Earth to Leo,” Indre snaps their fingers by his ear.
Still, Leo is unmovable, and Indre represses a
sinister giggle. “This is fucked, huh?”
“You go. I have things to say.”
As Indre leaves him to his doom, Nero finally
seems to take notice of Leo’s presence, but
is fully involved in a conversation with Angela.
That doesn’t mean Leo doesn’t notice the rush
of heat flooding Nero’s face, however.
Mari, who seems generally annoyed by the blonde
hurricane that swept away her brother, shoots an
unforgettable look at Leo on her way out. The daggers
shooting from her eyes said everything that needed
to be said. Leo is unfazed. Mari is not his concern.
Finally fed up with a total of ten seconds of waiting,
Leo confronts his two targets with all the tact of a
fish out of water. “Angela, I’d like a word with your
friend.”
If Nero was flushed before, he’s the color red now.
Angela, taking notice of the sudden tension change,
adjusts her attitude from cute bubbly girl to vindictive
gorgon accordingly. She does not so much as acknowledge
Leo when she says, “Be careful, Nero. Lots of snakes in
this school.” And with that she leaves, but not without one
last suggestive glance to Nero, who has been stunned to silence.
Leo moves to replace her and rightfully redirect the
attention back to himself. Before Nero has the chance to
speak, Leo says adamantly, “You shouldn’t be friends with her.”
Nero’s stunned expression morphs into a blend of curiosity
and concern. He squints at Leo and crosses his arms.
“Don’t you think that’s for me to decide?”
A frustrated exhalation escapes Leo’s nose. Can’t Nero tell
he’s just looking out for the new kid? “I’m not trying to take
your autonomy away, Nero. I’m trying to help you.”
A look of amusement crosses over Nero’s face, which only
furthers Leo’s frustration. “You’re helping me by telling me
not to be friends with the only person who has shown me
kindness at this school.”
Leo’s mouth twitches again. “Walk with me.”
Wordlessly Nero follows him out of the classroom,
seemingly eager to hear Leo make his case. Leo does
not hesitate. “I’m helping you by keeping you away from
the witch. She’s only nice to you because you’re hot.”
Immediately realizing what has come out of his mouth,
Leo’s chest tightens as he feels himself blush. The self-
indulgent grin that spreads across Nero’s face does not
help, but Leo quickly recovers. “I’m serious. She’s the worst.
And also a raging homophobe.”
“Oh,” Nero responds quietly, the grin replaced by a frown.
“Uh, thanks for letting me know.”
They continue to walk towards the courtyard in an uneasy
silence, before Nero decides to pry. “Are you two, like, exes
or something?”
Leo audibly wretches. “Fuck, no! I have standards.”
“Sorry.”
A bit of guilt pricks at Leo, as it dawns on him how hard
it must be to transfer to a different college senior year
without knowing anybody. Perhaps he’s been a little too
harsh, and an olive branch is in order. “I don’t have much
time until my next class, but–”
The taller of the two stops to face the other. “If you want
friends, hang out with me and Indre. And I want to talk
to you about the gala.”
Nero, who has thus far maintained a rather collected composure,
seems completely out of his element. “Yeah, me too.”
Leo does his best to not be affected by the way Nero’s face
softened, despite it being unbearingly cute. “Coffee tomorrow?
9 AM?”
“Sure.”
—-
(12:37) To: Azula
(12:37) Zuko: Mari I have important news
(12:38) Azula: oh boy here we go
(12:38) Zuko: Leo just asked me to get coffee with him
(12:38) Zuko: Also apparently Angela is homophobic
(12:40) Azula: i knew she was weird
(12:40) Azula: i had to really try hard not to laugh
when she asked if you worked out like girlie
has no gaydar whatsoever
(12:41) Zuko: Is it that obvious I’m gay?
(12:42) Azula: idk is the pope catholic?
(12:43) Zuko: You’re missing my point
(12:43) Azula: ah yes leo
(12:44) Azula: is this your redemption arc
(12:46) Zuko: I hope it is
(12:46) Zuko: Idk how to talk to him
(12:48) Azula: wow nero is flustered over a boy??
who would’ve thought!!
(12:49) Zuko: Your sarcasm is not appreciated
(12:50) Zuko: Help me I’m not used to being rejected
(12:51) Azula: what are you trying to say
(12:52) Zuko: I would never imply that you are
used to being rejected
(12:52) Zuko: Not to my sister who I love so much
and really need help from
(12:53) Azula: fuck you & figure it out. i have class
(12:54) Zuko: Worst twin ever I should’ve eaten you
in the womb
(12:55) Azula: good luck. and DON’T fuck it up
(12:59) Zuko: Nice Rupaul reference
(13:00) Azula: ur welcome
