IT DOESN'T CRUSH WHAT'S MISSING
As a child, Dune often indulged in escapist fantasies. Love always inevitably played some part in each of them: in one favorite fantasy his parents never left him on purpose, it was a mistake-- they loved him and after an entire year of endless searching they would find him and take him away to be a happy family. Often money played a part, too: a beautiful princess would fall in love with him, and show him a life without poverty. They would be wed in spring beneath Solterra’s only peach tree, pale pink blooms drifting down like Dream rain.
It did not take him very long to learn how to draw the line between reality and fantasy, and to understand the danger of the later. Love would not put food on the table. Love would not protect him from slavers or bullies or gangs. Only Dune, through hard work and determination, could elevate his station. Love was a luxury not meant for him.
(but oh, it is nice to dream!)
She steps closer and he finds himself getting nervous. The waking world is full of the uncomfortable details that get lost in dreams. Sweat gathers on his back beneath the weight of his wares, smoke burns at the corners of his eyes. He's tired from his long travels, and vaguely hungry, and his heart hurts-- it physically hurts-- somehow even before she says: "I think I might be in love.”
For a split second his face is blank. He has to remind himself of the line between reality and fantasy. Dream and waking. His dreamers are not his. My dreamers are not mine. And then the expressionless look quickly melts into a smile.
Dune is happy for her. To his surprise, it doesn’t even hurt that much. “And what does that feel like?” He resists the urge to reach out with his telekinesis and brush a lock of forelock behind her ear, straighten her coat. My dreamers are not mine, he repeats like a mantra, and he thinks of Warset and Sereia, Cyrra and Luvena. He finds the line and builds a wall on top of it, as a reminder. As a defense.
And he desperately tries to enjoy this moment while he has it.
Although reality presents him with many unpleasant details, there are some perks. Elena's eyes are brighter and deeper here, in the waking world. Maybe it's the light of the bonfires, or the contrast of her deep red cape. Or maybe it's because she's in love now in a way she's never been before. His dark eyes drink it all in eagerly, and he wishes he could catch all these minute details and never forget them. “Why do you think you love them?” He asks, not at all intending to sow doubt or indecision. He is curious what makes one person loveable and the other-- the other like Dune.
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