📢 Author's Note: There're some easter eggs in this one.

'Cause you get lighter
the more it gets dark.

🌊Lukah🌊

I must be dreaming again. I shouldn't complain. At least, this isn't one of my regular nightmares.
I'm just scared it will turn into one.

If I touch her, would she dissolve under my grasp?

I was always suspicious of her presence in my life. She was too good to be real-to be mine. What are dreams made of? Do people in dreams exist? Maybe she's made of stardust. So, if I hug her, she would just liquify before I could even feel her. She would slip through my hands, fusing up into the sky: small sparks of fire flying up and getting stuck into the black sky.

Maybe this is why she always reminded me of fire. It wasn't her name. It wasn't her golden hair or the fact that she burnt my favorite sweater. All of this time she reminded me of fire because she was made of it.

Fitzwilliam Darcy just poured some whisky for me-I think I need something stronger to swallow this reality.

I eye him, trying to prove to myself that he is a hologram. He has to be. They all must be holograms-has to be one too. Maybe dreams are like really vivid holograms.

Intentionally, when he slides the drink to me over the kitchen island, I grace his hand, expecting my finger to touch his intangible body, but he's as palpable as I am.

We are all sitting around the kitchen island. Swirls of white and black decorate the marbled surface below my drink. The rest is drinking coffee, and Hardin-I think that's him-is drinking water. I don't like him. He wasn't good enough for Tessa.

She sits next to me. But I don't dare say her name. Neither have I looked at her since I first appeared here because I'm...scared. What if they are all real but she's not? What if I touch her and she disappears? What if she tries to touch me but she just can't?

An open book rests across from me. It's called Book Boyfriends they said. Our life is said to be captured inside it.

My ears burn as they all keep staring at me-worried as if I were about to jump through the window or something.

I gulp down my drink, gasping as I let it rest on the board.

"Lukah," she calls me, but I force myself not to look at her.

She's not real. She's not real. She's not real. This is just a dream.

Crickets chirp outside. The short, luxurious needle in the clock is grazing the top of number four. But it's still pitch dark outside. It must be summer because I'm freaking hot in this sweater. I wonder how time works for fictional characters. Am I eternal? I don't think I even exist, to begin with.

I clear my throat. "So..." I trail off, "you must be Hardin." I nudge my chin at him. He is standing now, leaning against the sink, his arms crossed-his eyes analyzing me.

"I am," he replies plainly. I don't think he likes me either.

"And you're Tessa, and Elizabeth, and Darcy," I list.

They all nod at me.

"Now, where's Peeta and Katniss?" I ask, expecting Raiden to come in through the door and say they all played a prank on me.

"They left because the babysitter couldn't stay any longer," Tessa explains.

"They got kids? In the real world?" So maybe there's hope because they were characters once and now they have a family. Could I ever have that with her? Why am I even accepting this? This is just a dream.

"Yes, they do. They're quite adorable." Elizabeth smiles cheekily.

"And if you close the book, I disappear?" I swallow thickly.

"You don't entirely disappear. You just swim into a different dimension," Tessa answers.

"So here..." I press my index fingers on the marbled surface. "Here we're real but in there we aren't?"

"Umm...k-kind of? ," Elizabeth stammers. "You are in the gap between one world and the other. You're physical but you are bound to your story and to what someone wrote for you."

"You come to life when we open your book. That's better than just being a character in a book, trust me," Hardin argues. "If you're just a character you plainly do not exist and you have zero chances of changing or even getting freedom."

Tessa shuffles on her seat and she adds, "Ordinary characters don't have souls. They aren't aware of their existence in other worlds."

"But since we can come out, we do exist?" I question, scared to death to hear the answer.

"Yeah, that's a good way to see it," Elizabeth claims. "We open your book, you appear, you exist."

"Sunset's book," I quickly add. "It's her story, not mine." That's the first time I say her name in this dimension.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"Well," I continue with my eyes fixed on Tessa now, "for what I see here..." I trail off, pointing at the book, "this is like the story of us from Sunset's point of view. My parents, my past, my perspective doesn't show."

And to be honest, I'm relieved that she doesn't know about my past.

"Is that a pr-"

"Is she even here?" I complain, smashing my palms against the kitchen boars.

"I am!" she claims, but I don't look at her-I can't.

She can't be real. This has to be a dream. I'm going to wake up, and we're going to be at that costume shop Spooky Silhouettes, she's gonna be twirling in different costumes for me, and then we'll be singing Relient K's songs. Yes. She's gonna be Hermione when I wake up.

Come on, Lukah, wake up. Wake up!

"Why aren't you looking at me?" she demands.

I remain silent. My eyes are now fixed on my empty whisky glass.

I will wake up.

My eyes pinch shut.

"Lukah," she cries.

"Is she really here next to me?" I cry now, my eyes colliding with Hardin's glare on me.

"Yes, mate. She is," he utters, glowering at me.

Her hand lands on my thigh and my eyes snap to hers. I felt that.

And I break. I break at the sight before me.

"You've been crying," I rasp. She must have cried so much. And I wasn't even looking at her to realize. I'm such a dick.

She presses her lips tight, suppressing a sob.

My hand cradles the side of her face. "Am I seeing things? I have this feeling that made you up. What if I'm dreaming? I dream of you so often. You've got no idea," I babbled.

"I know it's hard, but try to relax. This is a lot to take in," I hear Darcy say, but my eyes are fixated on her shattered ones.

"I'm scared that if I hug you, you will disappear," I give voice to my fears.

"She won't. Just hug her already," Hardin barks.

I pull myself down from my stool, and I stand tall above her as she remains seated.

Her honey-brown eyes are marred with anguish and they look up at me with a void so visible that it breaks my soul.

My hands land at either side of her waist and I crumble down. My forehead meets hers and her arms cling to my neck as we hug each other.

She is not dissolving. She is not melting into the air. She's not evaporating as it always happens in my dreams.

She is still here with me.

I dent my fingers under the fabric of the t-shirt she's wearing and I sigh in relief when I feel the warmth of her solid skin against mine.

I fall into her arms because I was starving to touch her. My arms snake around her waist, pressing her hard against me as a sob escapes my lips.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Lizzie and Tessa standing up. The rest silently leaves the room, giving us some space.

"I thought you would vanish," I sob. "I thought you...this was not real."

"I am. We are," she breathes into my neck.

Being absorbed by a hole of darkness and appearing here has no better explanation than this. In fact, my life kind of makes sense now that I know that someone wrote it for me. Because it always felt like a damn joke.

Everything in my life feels like a pathetic joke-except for her.

It cannot be possible that some person trapped such a sweet creature with a guy like me. She has to be the product of my skillful imagination.

She's the only thing that doesn't fit in my story. She doesn't belong in a story like mine. She belongs in a fairy tale and I'm a damn unsolved true-crime documentary.

I take some distance to look at her again. Her eyes are heavy with unshed tears. My hand climbs up in a bold attempt to touch her cheek to just feel her physicality.

I can feel her. I'm still trying to convince myself.

Her skin is wet and warm under my rough hands.

"I just need to try something," I say, leaning on to kiss her.

I see the movement of her throat as she swallows hard, and I inch closer my hands framing her neck. My lips bridge the distance, and I let myself taste her.

Tasting me back, she laps her tongue over mine. The taste of tears and whisky mingles and I crave for hee so much, that it hurts. My hands knead against her skin under whatever clothes she's wearing.

I kiss her slowly because I'm just collecting evidence that she's real. If she weren't real, I shouldn't feel anything. So, I want to kiss her until I prove myself wrong.

My mouth parts on the left corner of hers, then on the right one. I explore her chapped, bottom lip as my hands climb up until they graze the hem of her bra.

The hunger kindles in her too as her hands rake my hair, and she presses herself against me-and it feels like she's not close enough.

Grunting, I grab her, hoisting her up on the kitchen aisle. I look up at her, her legs hovering at either side of me. I push myself against her, kissing her everywhere-her flushed cheeks, her rosy lips, her puffy eyes, and I devote myself to covering every inch of skin on the arch of her neck.

"Lukah," she pants, granting me more access to her neck.

Fuck me, she's real.

My lips mold against the spot under her jawline, but she stops me, forcing my eyes to meet hers. Her eyes are heavy with desire but also with pain.

"I-"

"I missed you," I breathe.

She smiles and I swear I don't care for anything else in the world.

"I missed you too, Lukah," she returns.

I kiss her-hard now. Not caring about tasting her or deciphering whether she's real or not. I swirl my tongue around hers, pressing myself against her but I find no relief because she's too high for our cores to meet. My palms slide under her thighs while her hands keep pulling at the ends of my hair.

And I push myself away from her, heaving.

She sits there, her clothes all disheveled. Her blond hair is all ruffled with the traces of my hands. She's stone-still, eyes heated with desire. She's breathing hard, but compared to me, she's doing great. I'm a heaving mess who's struggling to utter sounds now.

"That-"

"Was-"

"Something." She gulps as we complete each other's utterances.

"I didn't know that kissing you could get even better in another dimension," I confess.

She laughs beautifully, swelling my heart with the need to hear that sound again.

I walk back to her, her arms helping me bridge the small distance between us. I kiss her gently once, then the hunger or just the need to feel her takes over again.

"Lukah?"

"Yes?" I stop my actions.

"We need to take the others out," she speaks with her eyes closed but then she opens them. "But we can go on...after they're out. If you want to- No, that I'm saying that we should. Just that if you want to. I also would want to just continue with this-"

I kiss her shut, tucking her hair behind her ears. Smiling brightly, I look at her.

"Stop smiling at me as if I were a cute little puppy." She rolls her eyes, hiding her features with her hands.

She is anything but cute right now. I pray someday she may see herself for who she really is.

"Cute wouldn't be accurate," I rasp, pulling her close. "You're wild. You're refreshing. You're beautiful. You're a tiny bit nuts-but in a cool way."

"Hey!" she complains, smacking my stomach. Laughter cracks from deep inside me.

"Now this..." I gesture to where the characters are, "the fact that this is real is such a relief." I keep laughing and she pokes my shoulder.

Chuckling, I reply, "Seriously though, the day of the fire I thought you were hallucinating for a moment."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I wasn't." She hops down the kitchen island, and walks past me, bumping against my shoulder purposefully.

I'm spellbound, I swear. She robs me of words.

Turning around, she arches an eyebrow at me. "Ready to take the others out?"

"Who should we take out first?" I ask. I'm conflicted because I wish we could take everyone out and see if we could find out something about my story.

"Raiden first. Dean after him," she states.

"Okay. We should kiss some more before Raiden comes out." I laugh, grabbing her hand.

She tips her head back, resting it against my shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here with me for this."

"Shall we?" I open the living room door for her and I see how everyone turns their heads to us.

We'll see how Raiden and Dean react to this. Hopefully, better than mine.

✴✴✴✴✴✴✴

Thank you for being here today!

I'm so excited about this story.

Also, *squeals* Lukah, OMG. Oh my, he's so damn stubborn. It was so hard to write from his POV.

Today's shoutout goes to someone who is really special to me. She's my friend and a WONDERFUL writer.
DearPrettyDaisy
Her complete book "Through The Dark", won first place in the Book's Got Talent Awards.

She's worth checking out. Trust me.

Love you all so much!