Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there were two lovers—Elio and Selene. To simply describe Elio, he was bright—blinding even. One could easily spot him in a crowd from his golden locks and tanned skin. His glowing smile and dazzling eyes lit up every room he walked into. Not only this, Elio was also very sharp. His quick wit and intuition always played to his advantage whenever he would encounter little snags every day. Because of this, Elio was well-loved by all. The children and the elderly alike would always offer kind smiles, items, and quick stories whenever Elio passed by.

    Exactly the opposite of Elio was Selene. She was quiet and always put on a serious face. Her long dark hair and clipped remarks would always scare away the children. Despite her cold aura, no one could deny that she was beautiful. Her pale skin made elders tell stories of how she was born at the stroke of midnight when the stars shone the brightest, but the night was at its coldest; and her piercing eyes made her seem like a flower on a cliff—beautiful but utterly untouchable.

    Selene loved painting. She would usually paint from when the sky started to brighten until the stars came out and the entire world was shrouded in darkness. Selene loved to paint by her window as this gave her a picturesque view of the town and the landscape beyond. It was also a great place for her to hear the muted chatter of the villagers and the harmonious songs of the birds; it made her feel less alone, for she hated the silence. She felt loneliness creep in whenever the villagers avoided her like the plague when they saw her painting by her window. Selene hoped for a spark of light that would accompany her and brighten up her dark surroundings. She wished upon the infinite fields of constellations above her, for hope is the bringer of light. 

    Elio loved baking. He worked at the bakery near Selene’s house. After he delivered the bread fresh from his oven to every house in the village and gave the burnt ones to the stray dogs and cats, he would make a fresh new batch and give it to the person by the window. The girl, who would always be painting, would gladly accept and munch on the still-hot bread, eating silently as Elio told stories of his early morning encounters with the villagers. 

    As days passed, Elio’s warmth slowly crept past Selene’s walls. Elio would grin brightly whenever Selene chuckled at his ridiculous jokes and never-ending stories. 

    Elio would say, “Your eyes are like crescents,” whenever Selene’s eyes disappeared as she laughed loudly at his attempts to impress her with different types of bread and flowers every morning. 

    Elio never failed to show up. The pair would usually stay together until late at night, just painting, talking about the mundane things happening in their lives, and anything else they could possibly think of. Eventually, Elio managed to coax Selene away from her window; they started to take walks together. Elio filled Selene’s once-quiet life with boisterous laughter and absurd tales. Every night, Selene hoped for the spark of light to forever accompany her and fill her quiet surroundings with dulcet tones. She wished upon the infinite fields of constellations above her, for hope is the bringer of euphonious music. 

    Much to the surprise of everyone—even Selene’s—she started to join Elio on his early morning deliveries. Selene would shyly smile at the villagers as Elio caught up on what was happening in town. Who would have thought that the cold moonflower—as she was usually called—and the town’s sunshine boy would be seen walking around together and enjoying each other’s company? That the golden light could still shine brightly beside the mysterious darkness?

    After their early morning walks, the pair would go to the hills—as per Elio’s request—to give Selene space to paint. Elio liked to lie down on the limitless fields as Selene painted whatever captured her interest. Sometimes, Elio managed to pull Selene out of her trance by putting flowers in her hair and chasing around rabbits and squirrels. Afternoons would be filled with carefree laughter and the smell of flowers; paintbrushes and canvas were tossed aside in favor of soft hands and wide green hills. 

    As the world darkened and everything quieted down, Elio gazed at Selene, her crescent eyes bright in all the soft ways there were as she painted under the illumination of the fireflies’ lights. With every dip of her brush into the night sky, she borrowed the glimmer of stardust. With every brushstroke, sparkles of light found themselves a new home in the vast expanse of her canvas. 

    Once the painted stars lit up the world in the canvas instead of the sky above them, the pair would begin to head home. Every night, Selene hoped for the spark of light to forever accompany her and fill her cold surroundings with warmth. She wished upon the infinite fields of constellations above her, for hope is the bringer of comfort. As the pair walked back to the village, both silently wished that the next day would bring as much beauty as the last. 

    One day, Selene woke up to absolute silence. 

    The moment Selene opened her eyes, she noticed that the world seemed a shade darker than yesterday. The world seemed dead. The smell of freshly baked bread was also missing. She noticed a gloom took over the entire town. Ignoring this, she patiently sat by her window to wait for her sunshine boy to fetch her. She waited. 

    And waited. 

    And waited. 

    By the time the sky darkened, she decided that maybe Elio was sick and unable to stand from his bed. Realizing that Elio probably had no one to accompany him, Selene immediately rushed to the bakery next door with medicine and some food to give to the missing sunshine boy. 

    But the bakery was void of any light. There, Elio lay, pale as paper, coughing up blood. Selene sat by his side trying to give him medicine. She laughed softly as she recalled their memories of the past few months. She remembered how Elio bothered her every day and refused to leave even if she glared at him. She remembered how Elio made flower crowns for them to wear at the hill. She remembered Elio’s wide eyes, bright in all the soft ways there were, as he gazed at the night sky under the illumination of the fireflies’ lights.

    “Your eyes are like crescents,” Elio managed to say weakly.

    Selene shook her head. Her eyes disappeared as she attempted to not shed any tears. She feared breaking Elio whom she held delicately. Elio tried to show off his once-blinding smile to reassure Selene that he was truly okay, but his eyes only grew dimmer and dimmer. At the stroke of midnight, when the stars shone the brightest, but the night was at its coldest, the sunshine boy lost his shine.

    The next day, the world seemed a shade darker than yesterday. Everyone wore black. Selene felt loneliness creep in. The villagers started to avoid her again. The town was in an eternal gloom. 

    Her eyes traced the glowing path of stars above her, hoping that at the end of the trail she would see the eyes that held the galaxies inside them. Selene hoped for her spark of light to come back to her side. She wished upon the infinite fields of constellations above her, for hope makes one check every day for the answer longed for, only to confirm that it is not there.

    Selene had loved painting. She had usually painted from when the sky brightened until the stars came out and the entire world was shrouded in darkness. Selene had loved to paint at their hill as this gave her a picturesque view of the night sky above.

    She wished for Elio to come back; she swore she would do anything just to have him by her side again—even if it meant she would stop painting. Selene looked at the paintbrushes and canvas tossed aside. Maybe that was how the universe worked. Wishes don’t come true without sacrificing something in return. 

    The entire town was bathed in gold the very next day. A bright ball lit up the world. The warmth was back, and everything seemed better. Perhaps, all of Selene’s wishes for the spark of light to come back came true. Perhaps, all the wishes upon the infinite fields of constellations were granted, for hope is the bringer of granted wishes. 

    As the town enjoyed the sun that they would see every morning, they failed to notice the disappearance of the painter. 

    Soon, they learned that as the sky would darken, there shone the bright crescents that Elio loved so much. There, beside the meteor showers and exceptional comets, was the moon. 

    Some said that Elio became the sun, shining every morning to tell everyone to cherish the day and the next, or to try again, to fight for another day, always bringing warmth and comfort even through the coldest of seasons. 

    No one knew where Selene went. But some guessed that if Elio was the sun, then she was the moon, forever walking amongst the stars, looking for a path to meet Elio again someday.

    And maybe the universe was unfair that way, taking away Selene’s loves. 

   But it was during particularly bright days when the people were reminded of the pair who went around town delivering bread and running around the hills smelling of flowers. It was also during those cloudless nights when the crescent moon gleamed as beautiful as ever, and the fireflies were out illuminating the universe of stars above.