Eight Dollars (Trixya)

Night 3

Brian silently took my hand as we walked through an empty park somewhere. On tour, all the places seem to blur together, but at that moment it really didn't matter.

The sun was setting, and we were in our own little world, just strolling along. The wind was still, and the usual winter chill that had followed us around Britain so far didn't seem to be affecting us. I felt at peace with the world, the way I always felt when I let myself get entirely wrapped up in Brian's company.

I was watching how the orange glow of the setting sun kissed his face, giving him an ethereal glow. He looked over at me and smiled, and some part of my fucked up soul was healed. He truly was an angel on Earth. In the years of knowing him, I'd never met anyone with the same calming aura as him, combined with a wild sense of humour that complimented mine.

We came to a stop, as he took both of my hands in his warm ones, holding my gaze.

"I love you," he told me, leaning towards me with a gentle and affectionate look. Some part of me registered that he was going to kiss me, and I closed my eyes, ready for the kiss that never came.

I jolted awake, cold reality hitting me like a tonne of bricks. The dark of my bunk met my tired eyes, the hum of the bus' motor the soundtrack as I let out a long, calming breath.

It wasn't real. It never was. But it had felt it, and that one second when I'd believed the lie of my imagination had been beautiful. Now reality flooded back to me, and all the times he'd said no in his own way, all the reasons even letting myself dream was a mistake.

I felt like I was drowning, and maybe I was.