Beautiful Lovers

11.

EDITED
He hears a sigh and turns around. Juliette is standing in the middle of the room. Where she was pointing before. She kneels and touches the ground with trembling fingers. Blood. A pool of it. It grows and grows just like the horror in her eyes until the warm blood wets their shoes. Paris stops at the edge of the redness and like there is a lake of memories separating them, he watches how Juliette drowns in the thought with terror in her heart. That is another kind of adrenalin.

"What the-?" Paris says in shock. What is happening?

"It belongs to the memory. The blood. That is probably why it is here. I don't think that we can control our dreams anymore." her words are wise, but her voice trembles just like her hand and Paris knows that the girl in front of him is holding her cursed tears in. Paris would want to tell her that she doesn't have to, but he doesn't feel qualified to. But he feels the pain that she tries to hide. But he doesn't see what Juliette does. He doesn't see the figure laying on the ground, because he doesn't have her memories. Everything he can do is to hope that she will someday share them with him.

"You see in our world we say that humans are foolish and the least important beings," says Juliette quietly. Paris stops.

"Should I be offended?"

But Juliette continues.

"Their magic is very weak, and they are not very good predators. Everything that they do is destroy." Juliette's fingers are covered with blood. The cruel colour is reflecting in the pearl eyes.

"But beings of my world are the destructors. We vowed to protect all worlds, but what are worlds without good people? We break them all. As if they are matches, we blow out their souls with a wave of our hands."

Juliette stands up, her eyes suddenly fill with defiance and serosity. Suddenly Paris feels the power from her. She seems so broken, but she stood tall like her dress is not covered in blood and her soul in guilt. Paris fully realises how brave she is.

"I know that the magic fascinates you and the beauty of my world, but it is not different from yours. It is only crueller." Suddenly her eyes fill with pity and guilt as if they are tears. It surprises him. The wrinkle between her eyebrows deepens and Paris wants to smoothen it with his thumb.

"You ought not to be here. You are too curious for your own good, but it is not my choice. You are here and I cannot stop it but promise me one thing."

Her steps echo in the silent dance room. Paris mesmerised nods. Caught up in the emotion, in the warning... the care.

"I do not know what these dreams mean, but if you ever find yourself in my world, seek me. Do not trust anyone and find me. Do not look back at the wonders, do not be awed by the magic. Be blind. Look at the world with your heart rather than eyes and if you have luck, you will save yourself."

For once, Paris hesitates. If Juliette would ask him to do anything, anything in the world with that seriousness in her voice and misty eyes with golden specks piercing him, he would listen. But not this. Paris knew himself. He couldn't. And somehow, he convinces himself that the world she is describing can't exist. He is blind, deaf and mute. He sees the pain in the girl's eyes. He hears her anxious voice, but he can't promise aloud what she wishes. Because in Paris's world, curiosity is always stronger than fear.

So, when Paris woke up with a feather mysteriously in his hand, a promise laid in his head that he chose to forget. And the seal on their Fates dries with his decision.

 ♡♡♡

"What are you wearing?" Curious rather than outraged voice says.

Juliette turns around with a relieved smile. For a fraction of a lifetime, she thought that she was alone in the darkness. But his voice soothes her. Paris has a black t-shirt with 'Star Wars' written on it, his hair is dishevelled, and his hands are in the pockets of his black jeans with stained knees. The boy studies the dress that she made up. The reason being is that she doesn't want the dream to decide what she would be wearing as the last night. She felt somehow inappropriate in her dress. White fabric soft and light as milk glitters softly. Between the folds are laced pastel pink butterflies, as if landing on the dress, fluttering their wings that look so real that Juliette is too scared to touch their fragility. She can swear that they moved. Flowing skirt that looks like a river of clouds is light, softly touches her legs and floats above her ankles. The bodice is simple and solid, leaving her shoulders bare. The soft colour makes her sigh. She didn't know that it will be so real and... pretty.

"I thought that since this is a dream, I ought to have a dreamy dress. Don't you like it?" Juliette swirls, the skirt flowing around. She loves dresses. It is something beautiful in the world of ugly souls. She remembers how she promised that she will never fight in a dress because it seems wrong to stain the beauty with blood.

"It's stunning."

"Stunning? Is it just by my foolish mind or can stunning never be beautiful?" she says thoughtfully.

She does not know why the word seduces her so much. There is a certain softness to it, that cannot be described, only felt. Everyone can feel it. Rotten or not. Something about the beauty calls her and she knows she does not hear through her ears, but with her heart that beats for beauty faster than it ought to.

"Trust me, beautiful is one of the words I can describe you with right now," says Paris with a kind smile.

"You."

That word makes her look up from her butterfly dress. She feels warmth on her cheeks just as she feels it in her heart. Paris is lots of things. Boy that reminds you of demons, strange or a dark soul with beautiful thoughts. One Juliette, however, knows. Paris is not a liar.

♡♡♡

I hope you liked the chapter and are ready for the next one. See you on Thursday!

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