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When you stepped outside into a cool autumn morning just after dawn, you almost turned right around and headed back inside. It was cold—god, it was cold—goosebumps erupting along your arms and your keys jingling in your shaking hands as you locked the front door. A tiny part of you wanted to stumble back into bed and go right back to sleep. You felt the early hour (and your late night) in your stiff limbs and puffy eyes, the jaw-splitting yawns captured behind your clamped teeth.
Yet despite the chill and early hour, you wouldn’t miss this morning for all the world.
With every deep breath, you tasted the earth: green growing moss and grass, pine needles moldering in the shadows of trees, wet gravel and stone. It was lush and refreshing—like downing a glass of ice-chilled water with every inhale. The sun hadn’t yet risen above the treetops, only weak tendrils of pale golden light peeking shyly between the trees; but it was enough to illuminate the faint layer of mist trickling above the ground like glittering, nebulous spider-silk threads, seeping into thick tangles of blackberry bushes—and it was just enough to make Sun glow where he stood in the middle of the driveway waiting for you.
“All locked up, darling?” he chirped as you plonked down the creaking wooden steps.
His eyes practically sparkled in the hazy light. Dressed in sunrise hues, he swayed happily back and forth, like a lanky long dandelion dancing in the wind.
“Yup, like Fort Knox,” you answered between yawns.
Sparkling blue eyes scanned the old house—from its weather-worn walls to the warped lining around the windows to the loose shingles peeking over the edge of the gutter.
“As lovely as your house is, that is quite the optimistic comparison—”
“Oh, come on, you.” Laughing, you hauled him down the driveway, his delighted giggle dancing over your ears.
Gravel crunched under your boots and his strappy sandals as you followed the same walking route you’d taken for the last few weeks, a simple stroll down the driveway and up the road towards town. It was slow and meandering, no real destination in mind; comfortably quiet between chittering birds and the swish of Sun’s skirt against his metal knees. Just the two—or rather three—of you, though you weren’t sure if Moon had slipped into rest mode after a long night, or if he was enjoying the lavender haze of dawn as well.
Sun pulled the end of a branch down as you passed it by, dewdrops clinging to the prickly ends of pine needles. And when he let it go, golden baubles flew into the air, glittering and free and—you squawked—splattering both of you.
“Sunny—” You squeaked again as his faceplate spun like a sunshine-gold pinwheel, flinging more dewdrops over you. “Sunny!”
“Ah, sorry, sunshine.”
The animatronic didn’t quite smother his grin or the sparkle in his blue eyes when his face stilled, but he did dab at your cheeks with the soft cotton edges of his rose-pink cardigan.
“You know I already took a shower last night?” you grumbled without real heat, grinning around the cozy material.
More droplets slipped down your hair, plipping across bare shoulders and making you shiver. You’d ventured out only in jeans and an old tank top, and you slightly regretted the choice.
With a quiet hum, Sun brushed the last few drops from your hair and regarded you with a soft look before extending a hand. “Well, now you’re extra clean.”
Rolling your eyes, you threaded your fingers together and continued your ambling journey off your property and down the dirt road. A faint layer of mist still floated above the ground—thin and chill—and it whorled lazily away from your boots before dissipating in the growing heat.
“I was wondering,” Sun piped up after a few minutes of easy-going quiet. His faceplate swiveled left then right, a flash of gold reflecting off his crescent. “I noticed there aren’t many flowers out here. I always imagined the world outside the pizzaplex would be full of them, but—” he eyed the scraggly grass lining both sides of the road “—it seems I was incorrect.”
You eyed the ditches as well, the monstrous wide-leafed thistles with their yellow corncob heads and the endless rows of dogtail grass waving eagerly in the breeze, the stubby brown Klamath stalks rich with clinging burrs. Miniscule bluebells and pale violet larkspur popped through the weeds here and there—accidental drips of paint on a brown canvas—but it was mostly sun-scorched grass and weeds as far as you could see.
“It’s too exposed here,” you explained. “Not enough water and too much sun. And too much car exhaust. And beyond the fences—” you jerked your chin towards the chipped white enclosures stretching along the road “—the livestock, especially the goats, eat everything they can reach.”
“Oh, I suppose that makes sense.”
Despite his airy tone, Sun’s shoulders slumped beneath his rosy shrug, rays puttering in a slow circle, and you didn’t miss how his eyes kept bouncing from bluebell to bluebell as if he could wish more into existence just by attention alone.
A thought sparked in the back of your mind and you squeezed his hand to draw his gaze back to you, a sly grin creeping across your face.
“I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Making a sudden about-face, you led Sun back the way you’d come and then past the driveway, on and on, until you reached a turnoff—a patch of scrubby chipped fence lining the road that looked like it hadn’t been painted since you were a kid. The woods beyond were thicker, wilder—no horses or goats to devour the prickly-leafed weeds and vines beyond. You didn’t hesitate to hop over the railing, spinning back around as Sun whirred behind you.
“It’s not an electric fence.” You bapped the wood with your fist. “Totally safe, see?”
Sun frowned back. “I think we’d both know if it was electrified by now.”
You laughed, but he didn’t seem amused, blue eyes darting from you to the woods and back down again, a loose thread from his cardigan twisted between his fingers.
“Sweetheart, isn’t this trespassing?”
You wrinkled your nose playfully. “It’s fine—I promise. My brother and I used to sneak over here all the time while exploring. Besides, these neighbors are away for the fall. No one will see us.”
Sun blinked, head tilting slowly with a skeptical click-click-click.
You tilted your head to match. “It’s like a new adventure, right?”
The animatronic sidled forward, gingerly tapping the fence once, then twice—and with a staticky chirp and a little hop-skip, he vaulted over, landing in a puff of red-brown dust.
Brushing his skirt down from where it snagged on the railing, Sun glanced at the scraggly, two-inch tear in the hem with a sigh before threading his long fingers through yours, a determined light in his eyes. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit brave today. Shall we?”
Something fluttered hot and sparkling behind your sternum, like miniature fireworks, and you had to remind yourself not to rush as you ventured deeper into the woods.
It only took a few minutes of hiking steadily downhill, Sun ducking carefully below thick, gnarled branches, before the forest thinned and you heard the telltale trickle of water. And then you were stumbling into squelchy mud and thigh-high grass and a kaleidoscope of color along the banks of a shallow stream.
Vibrant purple and ruby red and starry blue—more hues and shades of flowers than you could name lined the riverbank: waving columbines, tufts of Indian paintbrush, delicate yellow petals stretching into the sunlight, rich orange poppies with winking black eyes, towers of periwinkle lupine that looked so much like candy you almost wanted to pop the buds in your mouth.
Sun squeaked, faceplate swiveling this way and that to take in the rich variegation, rays quivering in their housing. “Oh my goodness, this is—there’s so many—”
Without a care for his skirt or the mud, he sank to the squishy ground, playing with the soft petals and dancing fingertips past fat bumblebees laden with pollen, laughter chiming when his rays spun and made the flowers dance away in the artificial breeze.
“Like it?” you asked. Your cheeks ached from how hard you were smiling.
“Yes! Stars, yes yes yes!” Sun chirped. He flapped his hands at you. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to make—sit, please. Sit sit sit.”
Curious, and trying your best not to squish too many plants, you plunked down next to him, grunting when your leg hit something hard. You dug for a moment in the soft ground and—with a bit of jiggling—pulled up a palm-sized rock, strangely ridged and rough beneath a layer of mud. Your eyes widened as you flipped it over to reveal miniscule swirls and spirals inlaid into the stone.
Sun leaned forward with bright eyes. “Shells?”
“Yeah—fossilized ones at least.” You tried to count the curling fragments, but there were dozens of them overlapping—memories of a bygone age printed in stone, like an eternal embroidery. “Just out of curiosity—is Moon awake?”
“He went to sleep a while ago, I’m afraid.” Head clicking to the right, Sun’s smile fell ever so slightly. “Should I wake him up?”
“Nah, it’s cool.” You tucked the fossil in your lap, refocusing on your friend. “So what was that about making something?”
A brilliant curve stretched across Sun’s face until his eyes squished into little half-moons, rays whirling as he wiggled with excitement. “Dearest, have you ever made a flower crown?”
It turned out making said crowns was quite a bit harder than you ever imagined. Mouth screwed up in concentration, you followed Sun’s instructions as best you could, weaving long blades of grass together and tucking stems in and over and in again when they fell out while Sun fashioned first one crown and then a second; but at last, the sun high overhead and sweat rolling down the curve of your back, you finished.
“It’s… something,” you puffed, holding the squashy woven band gingerly. You’d tried for a pattern, sunspot explosions of yellow lilies between puffs of white yarrow—a bit clumsy and messy, but it (surprisingly) held together.
Sun grinned in delight. “It looks lovely. You’ve really improved your flower work.”
You snorted.
Yours was nothing like the arrangement in Sun’s hands: lush and sturdy, packed with artfully placed wildflowers in every color—like a crown for a woodland fairy at a summer feast. The second one sat hidden behind his legs, a tiny blue petal peeking out—you imagined it was just as perfect.
Chewing your lip, you eyed your floppy creation—simple and sweet, made with your hands—and then held it up with a significant look at the animatronic’s head. “May I?”
“Oh.”
Optics widening, Sun paused, his whole body locking for half a second before he bent down so that you could loop the band around his two topmost rays with painstaking gentleness. When he sat up, it fell at an angle, some flowers loose and nearly tickling an eye, but his grin nearly split his face, strawberry blush highlighting both cheeks.
“If I may as well?” he asked, offering his colorful crown eagerly.
When he set it on your head, your hand rose without thought to trace the delicate plait and tiny buds, petals tickling your ears. Instantly, your chest filled with warmth, with sunlight, until it felt like you were glowing.
“Thank you,” you said quietly. It didn’t quite convey what you were feeling, but the tenderness in Sun’s expression, the way he smiled at you had scrambled your brain. “We, um… we should probably head back. It’s getting hot.”
“It is.” His eyes sparkled, a cheeky tilt to his grin. “You are getting a bit flushed.”
“Pssh, you should look in a mirror, Sunny.” You poked one of his cheeks, amused at the darkening cherry-red swirl. “Come on, before we both melt out here.”
You lumbered to your feet, knees and back aching after hunching like a shrimp for so long. With quiet grace, Sun unfolded like a ballerina, brushing off stray grass strands with one hand while cradling the second flower crown in the other. The second arrangement was dotted with blue flowers and quite a bit larger than your own.
The golden animatronic caught your curious gaze, his grin faltering. “It’s for Moon. I thought he might… I-I wanted to… you know…” Rays fluttering back and forth, a staticky sigh slipped from his voice box. “Could you give it to him tonight?”
You frowned, shuffling in place as the loamy ground did its best to eat your boots. “You sure? You could give it to him yourself if you wanted to. Maybe leave it with a note? I think he’d like that.”
Blue eyes scanned the woven crown, his shoulders falling slowly.
“No, I’m sure.”
“They’re so tiny,” Moon murmured, enraptured with the miniscule shells studding the stone cradled in his hands. “I’ve never seen anything like this, starlight.”
You beamed, ears flushing. Night had fallen hours ago, the air cool and crisp as ripe fall apples as the two of you perched on the roof.
While he continued to examine the gift, you picked up the blue flower crown hidden behind your back, too excited to wait longer. It had been a trick and a half to clamber up here without Moon seeing it, but you knew it would be worth the effort.
“This is for you as well.”
“Oh…” With a quiet gasp, he took the delicately braided loops of grass and flowers carefully. Crimson eye lights turned on you. “This is beautiful. Did Sun teach you how to make it?”
You snorted for a second time that day. “He taught me how to make one, yeah—but Sun made that for you.”
“Sun made this… for me?”
It might have been a trick of the moonlight, but you thought his optics gleamed just a bit brighter, the tiniest smile curving across his face as he caressed a thin petal.
“It’s beautiful,” he repeated, quieter this time. Ruby red eyes turned on you, hesitant and bright, the gift held up as if crafted from crystal. “Help me? Please?”
Tongue between your teeth and knees balanced precariously on the shingles, you placed the crown on Moon’s head, adjusting it this way and that, centimeter by centimeter, until it settled securely on the soft weave of his hat.
“Is it alright?” Moon asked anxiously as you sat back.
You studied the animatronic, the moonlight illuminating the flowers on his metal brow until they shone silver and brilliant white and bright celestial blue—like a crown of stars.
“More than alright,” you said softly.
Moon ducked his head with a huff of deep, musical laughter; but you caught the electric blue flush on his cheeks.
And though you were tired from the early morning and long day, you wouldn’t miss this night for all the world.
When Sun woke up from rest mode the next morning—to his surprise—he found his skirt from yesterday’s adventure laid out on his comforter.
Mouth puckering in confusion, he picked it up, wracking his memory banks—no, he distinctly remembered tucking it away after washing it, intent on fixing the tear along the hem himself. So how did it make its way here…
His head tilted with a curious click at a strange sensation under his thumb, sensors picking up the slightest variation in texture along the hem. Holding the end of the skirt up, his eyes widened.
Where the tear had been was now stitching—an intricate embroidery of flowers: teeny daisies and lilies and sunshine daffodils, a bluebell kissed by a butterfly, and in the center a long-stemmed sunflower dazzling and effulgent as the sun.
He traced the colorful threads with a featherlight touch, fans spinning faster as the pattern seemed to cross-stitch itself into his wires. And in the very back of their headspace, he could just feel the subtle light of Moon peeking shyly through the door.
He pressed the fabric against his chassis. Softly. Almost reverently.
“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, delicate as the threads held to his artificial heart. “Thank you, Moony.”
Moon’s light simply fluttered, growing ever so slightly brighter, and Sun only smiled into the fabric.
For now this was enough.