Drinking felt tasteless, a cheap passing of time, drowning problems in stinging booze, scorching the words clawing at throats. A way to forget, disperse the bad thoughts that’d be sure to creep along the unsuspecting hungover victims’ backs when dawn returned. The moon brought hope, black ink of the sky shadowing the worrisome. Sun forced realization, demanding those who desired blissful ignorance into acquiescence with the biting reality.

The moon lingering in the sky, illuminating the poison in his grasp. The bitter sting of beer coaxed down his throat, a horrid habit he’d been averse to, now the sole provider of solace. His thoughts dimmed, betraying his better sense of judgment into simple-mindedness, relishing in the lack of overcrowding thoughts. The moon remained a promise, securing the surreptitious deed from the daylight.

Spencer leaned back against the cooled seat leather, sunroof lowered to welcome in the light of the serene moon. Though its beauty was scarce, paled and sickly, foolishly bothering to rival with the ethereal girl occupying the driver’s side. Delicate fingers curled around the bottle, beads of condensation trickling down her hand in a manner Spencer could only dream of mimicking.

Moonlit eyes caught his own, his soul longingly willing to sacrifice dignity for one more spared glance, one more heart rush. Soft spoken questions fell on deaf ears, entranced by the melodic flow of the words as they danced in the space between.

Sweet saccharine moon, don’t bring daylight. Remain dusk, darken the sky in your terror, save from the burn of the sun. Don’t destroy the beauty I am finally allowed.

"What?"

Unhurried, dreadful, a torturous warning, forcing the prospect of his evident affection into awareness. Cursed moonlight, ruinously showcasing the red corrupting his face as his eyes darted away. Another aching sip of toxic liquid and his previous apprehension faded.

Blessed moonlight, reverently dancing across her features, designed to decorate the desired. His eyes softened imperceptibly, permitting his gaze to soak up every feature he craved to sear in his mind, burned into his eyelids and carved into the crevices of his mind.

Perhaps a mistake to accept the case, one in which he was designed to fall in love. A false notion, playing the precarious role of love to fool a lowly criminal. Echos of time bled into one another, an agonizing stretch of time to be her faux love. Fooling a moronic lowlife was seamless, welcomed into pristine events to observe the operation scarcely secluded behind closed doors. Manipulating drunk partygoers was planned, misguiding his own perception was terrifying though serendipitous.

Spencer had fallen in love. A secret even the moon failed to hold, the feeling unrelenting as the sun ruled. But with the moon’s promising return, words dwindled to longing looks, basking in the eyes of the girl he loved.

Tantalizing voice spoke of the case, reviewing its celebratory conclusion, another corruption of this earth to be prosecuted. Victory shared with beers and a glorious night parked under the stars, insignificant melodies humming from the radio. A thought proposed, the first of many to register in his mind.

"How’d you make it seem so real?"

A lingering moment of hesitation, his lips parting before the words could form on his tongue. "You," he started delicately, "you made it easy to fall in love." His lips stretched into a line with the faintest upward curve, fretful of true admittance. "Falling in love with you," a pause, words separated with a nervous wet of his lips. "It made sense. I- I don’t understand how, but it just felt…" His voice trailed off, fading off into the moonlit night.