Dorothy once told Lucas that most people don't notice falling in love. They just wake up one morning and looks over and thinks "Oh, hey. I love this person." That people either fall in love suddenly or not at all.
Lucas doesn't believe any of it. He knows he was fully aware of every step of falling in love. Before Lucas knew anything else in this world, he knew love.
Dorothy once told Lucas that most people don't notice falling in love. She told him this with a faraway look on her face, eyebrows crunched. She told him this in the same way someone tells their child happy endings aren't real, with a sad determination, like they themselves still hold the believe somewhere deep inside. She told him that, usually, a person doesn't have a choice. They just wake up one morning and look over and think, "Oh, hey. I love this person." That people either fall in love suddenly or not at all.
Lucas doesn't believe any of it. He knows he was fully aware of every step of falling in love. He was aware of it from the first time he opened his eyes and saw love's beautiful face looking down on him. He was aware of the skip in his heartbeat. He was aware of the pain of his arms and legs vanishing, and warmth and reassurance filling the space left behind. He was aware as a part in his brain, a brain he knew very little of personally, was segmented so he could keep a tally on moments like this. Before Lucas knew anything else in this world, he knew love.
It starts small, as most everything does. For Lucas, it starts with bandages and touches. It starts when the dirtied angel above him hurriedly wraps his injured side in white cloth. Lucas watches her work her magic, and when she's done, he does feel remarkably better. He watches as this furious woman, anger and frustration present in every jerky movement she makes, gently lifts him into an upright position and tend his wounds with the mildest of touches.
When she speaks to him, none of the festering frustration he sees swimming in her eyes shows in her voice. She speaks to him like he's someone, even when neither of them know if he really is. When he reluctantly tells her he remembers nothing, is nothing, she continues to treat him as if he hadn't spoken in the first place. When she asks him questions about this world so strange to her, only slightly less strange to him, and he cannot answer, she does not admonish him the way he does to himself.
Lucas loves how Dorothy sees the good in him. Her belief in him never falters. She keeps his head afloat when he is sure he is drowning.
Not even when he loses control and lashes out at the woman who tried to poison him and hurt Dorothy, does Dorothy look at him any different. He strikes the woman down, terrified that if he doesn't, the woman may rise up and harm his Dorothy. And yet still, when the deed is done, and he looks up at Dorothy, he sees the flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but it is not directed at him. She contemplates only the body lying below them. She is never in fear Lucas will turn on her.
Once, while they are both taking a short break from traveling the accursed yellow road, he asks Dorothy why she never questions his actions. She throws him a withering look and asks him what kind of question that even is. She tells Lucas he is her reminder of good in the world. She says more, launches into a speech of sorts, and Lucas hangs onto every word, but the thing Lucas clings to most is that Dorothy thinks he is a good man. She trusts him.
Lucas doesn't believe people fall in love suddenly, because he knows he didn't. He knew exactly when and why each part of his shattered mind affirmed themselves to Dorothy. Between her unwavering faith, tender care, and senseless concern for his well-being, he had no choice but to fall for her. Before Lucas knew anything else in this world, he knew love.