Beautiful Lovers

12.

EDITED
It is so much rather special when she realises that. It is nice to be called beautiful when sometimes we do not feel like it. At least not in a way we want to be. Not in a way that her heart beats with guilt.

She says nothing. Juliette does not want to ruin this moment of someone calling her beautiful for the first time. Perhaps she is a fool for letting herself be convinced, but Parris reminds her of something unfamiliar and nice. She cannot help herself.

"What are you wearing, Love?" Juliette sits next to him and he follows her. It is so strange when she does not know what she is walking on, what she is breathing or where the warm wind is coming from, but Juliette does not mind. She got used to the darkness. Nevertheless, the demons of Paris's, she will never get used to. She doubts however that Paris is one of the beings that would let himself be engulfed by demons. And she secretly admires him for that. Juliette admires him for the fact that no matter the pain of his loses and worries, his curious eyes are fixed on the beauties of the unknown.

"It's nothing," Paris says a little embarrassed. The girl loves the moments when he lets the walls he built, down. And from the nonchalant, yet on edge demeanour, Juliette sees something real, though it is just because he wants to earn her trust, or because he is embarrassed. It is always nice to see something real in your dreams because it is proof that never mind everything, even reality can be beautiful.

"If it were nothing, you would not be wearing anything, Love," says Juliette and plays with the wings. Strange. She cannot feel their fragility. Perhaps it belongs to the dream. That she not being able to feel certain things belongs to the night illusion. But his gaze, she feels very clearly. Juliette looks up.

"What is it?"

Paris looks like he is trying not to laugh, but the moment she returns his gaze, he cannot hold it in anymore and laughs loudly.

"I never thought you'd say something like that." he laughs and runs his hand through his hair and Juliette notices how crooked his smile is. He has a nice laugh. The girl realises she never heard him really laugh. He laughs out of discomfort, but never as if the worlds aren't dying and the people perishing.

"Why are you so surprised?" Juliette straightens up and tilts her head. It was only a small joke after all. She can be funny.

"Because you are so... innocently kind and sometimes you have these... sassy moments." smiles Paris with that kind of smile that reminds Juliette of trees in the winter.

"Sassy moments? We didn't have enough shared moments for you to notice that. And I do not have 'sassy moments'." Juliette shakes her head.

She leans her head on her knees and watches how are his shoulders relaxing. He is laughing with his head thrown back and with wrinkles ornamenting his bronze cheeks. Paris stops laughing and seriously looks at her.

"Just so you know, you do. And also, I notice a lot of things about you Juliette," he says softly. His eyes are so honest until the girl cannot help herself and has to believe him. Because he knows how. He has the strength to make her believe. He knows how to crumble every suspicion and make her open up to him. And with passing days, Juliette minds less and less.

"What things do you notice?"

"Like when you tilt your head when you are thinking or watching something."

The girl straightens up when she realises that she is doing just that. Paris smiles with a sly, crooked smile that suddenly seems so alluring to the girl.

"Fate."

"Or like when you bite your lip to stop smiling... it never works, by the way."

Juliette smiles. She doesn't know that Paris watches her so intently that he notices such things. She blushes a little when she realises that he is looking at her lips. It seems so intimate, nevertheless she strangely, oh so strangely loves it.