Satellites
Satellites
Original Fiction; Gen; G
Sometimes, she lies awake staring at the grainy ceiling for no reason in particular and just thinks. Thinks about what was and what never will be and about what could have happened, but never will. Thinks about strong arms wrapped around frail shoulders and soft lips pressed against smooth foreheads. And she wants it back (but she'll never tell).
Sometimes, he lies in bed thinking about absolutely nothing other than how much he loves her and is grateful to put the past behind him and he feels he doesn't need anything ever again apart from this moment right here (in her arms). He just watches her sleep and thinks she's perfect, regardless of what anyone else says. Because she doesn't need their approval and she doesn't care what they think and that makes her beautiful.
What he doesn't know is that past lovers still dream of hazel eyes and strong arms around frail shoulders. And what she doesn't know (or doesn't want to know) is that soft lips on smooth foreheads are in the past and he doesn't remember what it feels like to live in any time other than the present. And sometimes you can't go back and maybe there aren't always happy endings. Maybe dreams are lies and hopes are shattered, but you'll never know because he's too nice to admit it.
Dreaming of sunsets and holding hands with feet in filthy lakes, fish nibbling at toes. She thinks they're grody but doesn't mention it because he's there and as long as he's there, she refuses to move (even if she could).
Maybe what she dreams of was never really hers to begin with, just a painful, vivid illusion. A nightmare of a dream of happiness. And nothing seems to make sense except to those who understand already.
And she hates the new girl with every fiber of her being. Though she's beautiful and intelligent and everything to like about a person, you just can never bring yourself to truly find the lover of the one you love to be everything he finds her to be. And, even if you did, you wouldn't bring yourself to admit it.
Dreaming's all she can do now until the day when she ceases to wake. Until then, it's hazel eyes and strong arms and fish and hands and that's all she can really hope for.