5.
7.21.11
Fluffy Towels
MollyLysander
circus, devil, sword fighting
Lysander lived in a fantasy world where his dreams were all he needed and Molly hated it.
"You can't hide in your dream world all the time," Molly reminded him, more frequently than he cared to be reminded. "Sooner or later, you'll have to face reality."
But reality had nothing on what went on in Lysander's head. In his head, he didn't have to fight all the time. In his head, he never tired of Molly, the red-haired devil who smashed his dreams and kept trying to wake him up to the real world. In his head, they didn't bait each other like matadors waving fluffy towels at angry bulls. In his head, their relationship wasn't a circus, a show everyone could watch in awe and fear, or a sword fighting match, a chance to see who could get in more jabs at the other until someone gave in. In his head, Lysander was safe, safe to escape from reality, from Molly's harsh words, from everyone's scrutinizing attentions. Only in his head was he safe to dream.
"I don't hide from reality," he told her. "Reality hides from me." And he'd close his eyes and submerge himself in thoughts of a world that didn't exist, where the world was his playground and Molly was always waiting for him with her arms wide open.