Despite his newfound knowledge, Sophian’s dreams continued, despite all his attempts to quell them. On the one hand, they were still enjoyable; Sophian realized that was the only way he would ever be able to be with Ciaran. On the other hand, that was exactly why they were torturous. Ciaran was still, for all intents and purposes, only a dream lover. And that was all he could ever be. And the reveries weren’t merely sexual anymore. Often there would simply be a feeling of permanence and deep love, the pair of them involved in simple everyday things together. It was after these dreams that Sophian often awoke to find his pillow damp with tears.
About two weeks after meeting Ciaran and DeLeena, Sophian was, as usual, wandering Close Square. He had curled up at the edge of the fountain, gazing up at the abstractly beautiful tangle of copper pipes and not thinking of anything in particular, not even Ciaran for once. Suddenly a large hand dropped onto his shoulder, and he jumped a foot, nearly tumbling into the water. Whirling around, he prepared to snap at whoever had startled him… but the words died on his lips.
There he stood, tall and dark and still as gorgeous as Sophian remembered. The elf offered a tremulous smile and a quiet, “Hi there. This seat taken?”
Sophian swallowed hard. “N-no,” he stammered. “Go ahead…” Ciaran folded himself onto the fountain’s steps beside the pale-haired half elf, one leg bent with his arm resting on his knee.
“About… About ‘Leena,” Ciaran started. Sophian grimaced inwardly. Great. He’s coming to me with woman trouble. Just what I need. He said nothing aloud, just looked at the elf with eyebrows raised in question. “She’s not… what you think,” his red-haired companion continued. “She’s not… my lover.”
One silver brow dropped, leaving the other raised cynically. “Right…” His tone was more acidic than he expected. “Like I’m going to believe that.”
Ciaran frowned. “It’s true! The Force… they made a mistake when they Partnered me… DeLeena’s not my perfect match.”
Sophian didn’t want to hear any more, and stood abruptly. “Look,” he said sharply, “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but it doesn’t matter. The Force doesn’t make mistakes, and I don’t believe a word you say. So just… please, leave me alone.” He fled the marketplace without looking back. He missed the expression of hurt and dismay that was etched onto Ciaran’s handsome features.
The half elf thought that was the end of it, but the very next day, once more Ciaran found him at the fountain, this time bearing a present – a single, perfectly formed carnation – and again tried to convince him that DeLeena wasn’t his lover. Sophian accepted the flower, but still refused to believe. But now he was speculative, and decided to see where the new development would lead. If Ciaran was sincere, then he would persist, right? However, Sophian resolved to stay guarded; he was still terrified of getting hurt.
The encounters at the fountain continued, and over time, Sophian warmed. The two soon became close friends, and spent a lot of time in each other’s company. Almost every afternoon, if one or the other of them wasn’t otherwise occupied, they would meet, sometimes for a meal or to go shopping, or even just to talk. Often, when he was hurt or upset, Ciaran would seek out his pale-haired companion for comfort, and Sophian was more than willing to give it. Even if Ciaran could never be the lover he wanted, Sophian would always cherish their friendship. But something was about to happen that could possibly ruin their relationship for good.