Perchance to Dream

We are such stuff as dreams are made on,
and our little life is rounded with a sleep."

~The Tempest (Act IV, Scene I)

The first time it was only three seconds long.

She stood on the edge of a phantom lake, shivering. The cold wind blew on the back of her neck, whipping loose hair around her face and carrying his voice to her clearly.

"Fancy meeting you here. Usually I don't dream in color."

Although she couldn't see him, that drawl was recognizable enough. No one else could be so condescending, captivating, and chilling in one word. She moved to face him, but he had already gone.

She woke up freezing, sheets thrown to the granite floor. At the time she remembered thinking, Usually I don't dream of you.

~~

But the next night he was back.

"Here again, are you?" He sat above her, perched on the seat of a silver encrusted throne. "So would you rather compliment or fight?"

She didn't like the way he looked at her. It made the moon seem much too small.

"Are those the only choices?"

He tilted his head at the question, while continuing to twirl a sterling silver crown around one finger.

"That's all they usually do."

~~

She supposed you never knew who would turn up in your mind. This was the boy who had once insulted her family, tormented her crush, and made a favorite pastime out of being an entirely unsavory prat.

But just last summer he and his family vanished. Her brother viewed the disappearance as an early Christmas present.

Most likely they fled the country to avoid all those unsavory consequences that come with exposure. Involvement in questionable activities. She imagined him living richly on an uninhabited island somewhere, having escaped without a trace.

She envied that sometimes.

~~

"I'm better at fighting. I've had much more practice."

Tonight he sat across from her in a weathered rowboat, drifting through willows along the edge of the lake.

"No, that won't do. Don't you know it's wrong to fight with girls?"

She trailed her fingers through the dark water, causing the boat to rock softly.

"I thought it was hit girls."

"As if you could see the difference."

He stretched back, languidly folding his arms behind his head to better regard her confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're going blind."

She leaned over the edge of the boat to look into the water below, but it failed to reflect her face. Red lips, doe eyes, and bright orange hair; each familiar feature was lost on its surface. The water was black, but only because it was too dark to see.

"Prove it."

He thought for a moment, eyes closed. Under the filtered moonlight, his lashes cast still shadows, cutting dark across his pale skin. He opened one eye, smirking as he questioned her.

"What do the stars do?"

"The stars?" She couldn't see those pricks of light, the sky obscured by clouds. She felt blind without them. "The stars light up the sky."

When she looked down, both his eyes were resting on her face.

"No," he said, crossing his arms with the supreme satisfaction of one who's just won their argument. "The sky lights up the stars."

~~

She wanted to concentrate, living her day while willing his voice away. Words, they were nothing but words serenading her mind. But she was distracted, wondering how to answer when her imagination would challenge itself.

~~

"You're wrong."

She would have the first word tonight. She marched up to him, the figure leaning casually against a flowering dogwood on the edge of a clearing. What sparse light there was caught on each strand of his white-blond hair, owning it.

"Not nearly," he said, straightening as she approached.

His smugness was maddening.

"This is my dream to control. I'm as right as I choose to be."

"But how do you know? You can't even see the stars!"

The clouds blotted out the moon, the stars, even the tree tops were lost, escaping into an enveloping darkness.

"Why should I listen to you? You can't see past your clouded visions." Smiling slightly, he leaned closer to her, examining her narrowed eyes.

"Do you even see the color?"

She could see him, all blacks, whites and greys. Clear silver eyes.

"What color?"

He moved around her, never letting his gaze waver as he considered from every direction. His steady eyes failed to make her nervous this time. More impatient.

Then he moved forward, compelling her to back against the tree, with bark rough against her back. He came so close that their clouded breath mingled in the thin cold air. When he lifted his hand, she resisted the impulse to turn away, letting his fingers trail through her sunset hair.

"Red."

Closing her eyes she leaned forward, meeting his own lips gratefully. Hungrily.

She enjoyed the paradox, to find softness on an otherwise hardened face. Warmth repelled the biting cold.

Hands raking his hair, clutching his shirt, feeling his pulse in each heartbeat.

But he pulled away.

"Are you trying to silence me?" she breathed.

His eyes couldn't leave those raw scarlet lips.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

~~

Waking the next morning, she found she'd overslept. Missed breakfast entirely.

Burrowing deeper between the warm covers, she smiled.

~~

Every night after that he stayed longer.

Minutes into hours, but still leaving her craving. Spilling into the mornings, she begged her five more minutes.

No one else had dared to kiss her the way he did. Confident and selfish.

Bite, kiss, press. Always with eyes

Closed.

But in the morning, her covers are completely dry, immune to sticky sweat, the fevered skin she'd touched, and the hot breath that passed her lips.

She saw his eyes, heard his words, tasted him so clearly. The nights drank up the flickering daylight hours, lost like a forgotten dream. In over a week she had only had one memory of the hours in between.

~~

"Aren't you hungry?" her brother had asked, looking with concern on his little sister's drained face. Why had she been skipping meals?

"I'm fine," she snapped. The lack of rest made her irritable.

Her brother sighed, looking away from those sleep-bruised eyes he didn't remember from before.

"Mum would be worried, you know."

~~

The real problem was the day.

The day starved her. Struggling through each hour, she let the insistent light blur behind the memory of his face, his touch. Daydreams only just sustained her. She survived until slipping between the milky covers, drifting away, and letting dark silence hold her. She left the day slowly, abandoning it bit by bit for an all-consuming obsession.

~~

Then one night, he wasn't there.

She sunk to the floor of the rowboat, struck down by the ultimate silence of gently lapping waves. Around her, the shore receded, leaving nothing but empty black water in every direction. Even above her, the sky no longer seemed overcast, instead the stars were enveloped in complete emptiness. Hollow.

She was alone, save for a single red rose lying left on the hard seat before her.

A flower. She couldn't help thinking it was an exchange.

She stared at it for a while, numb to the cold. The vibrant color beat at her, in sync with the lapping waves.

Slowly, she reached out and took the fragile stem between her fingers, bringing the blossom to her face. Petals brushed soft against her nose. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The sweetness hurt her intoxicated mind.

Much later, she curled up at the bottom of the boat and drifted, grasping close to her heart the only thing left for her in any world.

~~

The next morning, she found the rose lying inches away from her still clenched hand. Withered and brittle, its petals were like dried blood against the pure white pillowcase. She reached to pick it up, but withdrew at the prick of a thorn. A bead of blood formed quickly, balancing precariously on the tip of her finger. Delicately licking it away, she tasted harsh metal.

She had just enough energy to envelop the blossom's head in her hand and squeeze, relishing each crackle as it turned to dust, before she blacked out.

~~

At one point, someone pulled the curtains back and declared the girl was ill. She needed her rest.

They had to force-feed her the sleeping drought.

~~

Through the fog she could just make out his form, sitting a few feet away on the pinnacle of a grassy hill. With arms wrapped protectively around his knees, he blindly surveyed the treetops obscured by misty air.

It was all she could do to walk slowly. Even when she stood directly over him, he didn't lift his gaze.

"It's cold tonight," he commented, by way of conversation.

As she stood there, the thickening fog seeped through the thin material of her dress, soaking her clothes, her skin, her heart.

"No colder than you."

He reached out a hand, brushing it lightly against her cheek. It felt like dry ice.

"I'm sorry."

He pulled her gently onto his lap and she let him. Opening his coat, he wrapped it around her shaking form and held her close.

She buried her head in his shoulder, breathing in the faint smell of winter: wood smoke and snow.

"I don't want to leave you." She choked on the last word, feeling the tears rise in her throat.

He rocked her back and forth, humming softly as she cried silent tears.

~~

She finally decided to brew herself a cup of tea. Chamomile, sweetened strong with honey.

Climbing between the white down covers, she pulled the red drapes shut to block out every strand of moonlight. Letting the cup warm her hands for a few moments, she began to hum. The steam clouded her eyes, as she sipped the amber liquid down to the final bitter drop.

~~

Tonight he lay spread out on the grass, star-gazing at the heavens. So overshadowed by the lights twinkling in her eyes.

"I missed you," he said.

She rolled onto the ground beside him, listening to his soft breathing and whispers about holding on forever. She wouldn't leave him again.