She steps silently into the dark room, scared and unsure. She trembles slightly, despite the warm night. She is afraid of telling him, of revealing her sin. His leg moves slightly and she pauses, gazing at him from the foot of his bed. Her eyes drink him in, enjoying the look of calm on his face, something not seen very often. His brow is not furrowed, but smooth, and she wonders if his skin is soft to the touch as well. She shivers violently as the guilt washes over her. What is she doing? Why is she here, in his room, by his bed, ready to confess?
She knows she shouldn't be there, that it wouldn't be right. She is supposed to be mourning…healing. She fights the desire to wake him and kiss him; surely he would hate her for her betrayal of their mutual friend. Hot tears threaten to fall; delicate fingers clench the lacy hem of her nightgown. A breeze begins to blow softly, teasing her face with cool relief. She walks to the window and gazes up toward the full moon. Its brilliance obscures the surrounding stars; tonight the sky basks in its beauty alone. Closing her eyes, she breathes in the night air, sweet and pure. He used to love to sneak out at night and walk the grounds, usually dragging her along. Their first kiss was under a full moon, innocent and tentative. Now she was standing under the full moon wishing for the kisses of another man, a man whom them both loved. How would he ever forgive her? How would she ever forgive herself?
She turns suddenly at a noise from the bed. He is staring at her, brilliant green eyes glowing in the moonlight, full of concern and care. She finally breaks, longing mixed with fear and guilt, as she lets herself fall into his arms. As she cries, he cradles her gently and tries to dry her tears. Her skin burns where he touches her, craves more than his comforting and chaste hugs. She can hear his heart rapidly beating in his chest, hear his sadness in his soft murmurs. She knows she reminds him of his friend, of what they lost. She knows he is strong because she needs him to be strong and that he aches for what they lost. No, she will not tell him what she feels for him. She will not make him hate her when she needs his love; she will not leave him completely alone and cause him more pain. She will carry the burden of her love for the man she calls friend and help him move on as he does for her. She drifts off to sleep and dreams of the day when they flew together and saved the day, of beating wings and the feel of her arms around his waist. As they rise higher into the night sky, silhouetted against a full moon, she can almost hear him whisper that he loves her in her ear. If only dreams were real.