Beautiful Lovers

5.

And she listens. Lights of every colour she can think of blink at her from the distance, dance in circles and pirouette in the darkness that seems less and less frightening with each fraction of her lifetime. Behind the large field is a fenced magical place. Tall towers decorated with flowers of light, tents with strange ornaments on them and the shadows of figures, which cheerfully jump, run and dance, petite as the butterflies in the field of wheat. Juliette can hear laughter, music and announcers, who shout their offers. The faint scent of carnival foods reaches them, though it is a bit strange. Juliette wonders if it is because Paris remembers it that way, or because this is only a dream. What a fascinating picture. She looks away from the blazing place. The field around is so peaceful. As if slowed. Wind plays with the wheat and butterflies fly above the golden ears. Calm. Then the girl looks back and every thought of harmony disappears. But surprisingly she loves it. It is a good kind of chaos. There are days when she doubts that those exist. It is something very different when she can find beauty in the wild movement and overlapping noise similar to music. Her eyes wander up to the indigo sky. Sparkling eyes blink at her from the corners of the sky and moonlight shyly wanders along her jaw.

"Stars," she mumbles to herself.

"Does that mean that Paris is-"

"It's an amusement park." Paris whispers and Juliette jerks in surprise. She has not noticed him behind her. His smile however calms her down and she silently watches how the lights, and the dark sky reflects in her eyes. As if his eyes are mirrors reflecting a land of magic, Juliette cannot look away. He pulls his gaze away from the amusement park and looks into her eyes. As if he is searching for something in them, he frowns and roams in the corners of her soul, but Juliette suspects that he will not find anything but fear. She has not.

Strand of her hair slid down her forehead. The girl watches how it swings in the wind and how it dances with it. She cannot force herself to tuck it behind her ear. Juliette looks at Paris. And the shadow in his gaze makes her breath hitch. In that beautiful, dreamy moment of silence, Paris lifts his hand to her cheek. Juliette's jerks away from his touch and instead of Paris's fingers touching her hair, only empty air welcomes them. The girl turns around and tucks her hair behind her ear. Without a word or a disappointed sigh, Paris joins her side. With hands in his pockets. Juliette looks at her own. She blinks, breathes out and relaxes her fists. She ought not to have them like that and her head certainly oughtn't to be filled with such thoughts. It will hurt her. More than he ever could.

"What do they do there?" She asks for change and points to the chatting figures. She looks up to the boy who chuckles. Perhaps it is strange that she asked.

"People have fun. They go on rides, dance... live their life," says Paris, but Juliette notices how slowly he talked. How he hesitated. The type of hesitation, which told the girl that there is more to the place than he lets on. More stories, memories, and nostalgia. In that moment, Juliette realises that she would be certainly fond of such a place. Places where she could cause a little chaos, a little drama seemed to always pull her in. Juliette remembers how Kera would, her former wolf friend always say that Juliette is the princess of drama, and the girl then wonders if that was the reason why she was fond of her so much.

"Oh," says Juliette, deep in thought. Paris becomes silent too. Together they then watch how the others enjoy their happiness, while they are drowning. In memories, guilt, and grief. They stand in the crowd of people living their lives wide awake, while they dream of something better. Of something that is not there.

"In my world-" interrupts their musing, Juliette. Paris looks at her curiously.

"...we do not have these kinds of places. It is always just business or a crime. We do not have...fun. It has been a while now." her voice is quiet as if she is scared that she will disrupt the harmony of Paris's world. Her words, however, are painfully honest. The only thing that resembles something so beautiful is the Festival of Light, but that is more of an excuse to celebrate the king and his soldiers than a reason for celebration, Juliette sighs. Paris looks at her with fascination in his eyes.