I wonder where you are now.

It is already three o'clock here in Bangalore. Yet I am awake. With thoughts of you haunting my mind. And I know that going to sleep is futile, because when I do, your image will invade my dreams also.

What power do you have over me?

It is different. Different from those other women who have tried to have me, tried to gain control of me.

I wonder what your reaction will be when you learn of my true feelings. Will you accept me? Or will you run away?

It will hurt more. I do not want to lose you. Don't want to lose our friendship. Even if it means not having your love altogether, at least I'll have friendship.

For now, it is all I seek.

But I lie to myself. And my mother always tells me not to lie.

I admit. I crave for more. For more passion, more friendship, more touch.

Not only physically...I want to touch your soul. To embrace your heart as if I own it, just like you own mine, even though you don't know it.

I once had a dream of telling you what I truly feel. And just when I get them out, you disappear, leaving a cold mist gathering around my broken heart. I lay awake for a long time after that, thinking. Just thinking.

Can we ever be?

I'm not so sure. I hope so. I would rather have you willingly, even to have my people turn their back against me, than to have you hurt me.

I am scared of this reaction.

I am the Sultan of Bangalore. The people should come first before you, a foreigner.

But I have more obligations to you.

I feel guilty.

I turn back to my room from my balcony and walk towards the table beside my large four-poster bed. I pour out from the bottle to the glass.

For the first time in my life, I drink wine. And it has a dizzying effect.

I feel warm. Giddy.

Just how I feel when I see you.

I love the way you make me feel. Excited, joyful, and scared at the same time.

Is the pain the same?

I don't know the answer.

If you lie awake in the night while I do so right now, do you think of me? Do you argue with yourself as I do with me? Do you think that our feelings cannot be?

I climb back to bed and stare wistfully out at the balcony.

The moon is creating a soft illusion.

I try to imagine how your hair glints against the moonlight. Soft, blinding, yet comforting.

I smile sadly.

Never be.

I know the answer. I guess I've always known.

If I tell you, it will be up to you.

I turn to the picture beside bed. A picture of you, smiling. I pretend it is a special smile. A smile only meant for me.

I touch your face. The frame is cool to my fingers.

I close my eyes, prepared for the hellish dreams of you rejecting me. "I love you, Jonny Quest," I whisper. "Goodnight."

And I sleep, the picture frame being clutched to my chest.

Your smiling eyes are the last thing in my mind.

~ * ~

Illusions.

I have illusions of you.

I hope to haunt you as you do me.

I am lonely.

Lonely in a place surrounded by friends.

I wish you are here. Even to just talk to me. But you are far, far away. Out of reach. Out of touch. A memory away. Me in Maine. You in Bangalore.

So far away.

I go to sleep, wishing you are here beside me. And knowing it will never be.