The truth was brutal. The truth hurts. The truth was not kind to those who chose to hide behind the shadow of a lie, a hope, a dream that the universe had denied. But often, the same pain that saw through flesh and bone will pave way from the dark alley of lies into the sun. Thus, it was said that the truth sets people free. 

Caught in between the odd realm between a dream and consciousness, even with a peculiar taste in his mouth and the dryness he felt at his throat, Luke smiled at the face staring back at him. He wondered what that look was about. Did he say something wrong? He had not insulted her people and criticized her opinions yet, but Rhiane was looking at him as if he did something that had offended her. “I’m sorry.” The words dribbled slowly from the tip of his tongue. Speaking was weird. The sound of his voice sounded weird in his ears, a little husky and slow and sleepy. It was not him. It was not her Sophie. 

He should be sad, but the boyish grin would not leave. If the cool and charming persona of the crown prince was perceived as the very qualities that made him desirable by the standards of the society, then it had not yet been exposed to an uninhibited version of his smile. None of the controlled flexing of facial muscles and curving of the lips, not even the bid for perfection that came with the royal title. That night, with the help of the pain medications and sedative, he found a space where there was nothing to guard against and nothing stopping him from expressing how he felt inside.

“And so kiss me, kiss me, kiss me
And tell me that I’ll see you again
'Cause I don’t know
If I can let you go…”

The following words of the song were lost in mumbling as he closed his tired eyes and rolled his head so as to look away from her judging gaze. A sober Luke would not have allowed himself to verbalize the lyrics of the song that came to mind. The tempo of the melody was deliberately slowed down, so it sounded more of a ballad than a pop punk song. His voice had always had that deep melodious tone, but only a few people knew that he could more than carry a tune, he could really sing. 

Gradually, the humming from his chest faded as did the smile that lit his features. “I kissed you because you won’t listen to me even if I begged you to take pain meds.” That was all, he told himself. “And it is impolite to reject you or push you away.” He was thinking about the passionate kiss they shared inside a bathroom cubicle while the rebellion was plotting to kill them both. She may either understand what he was referring to or she may have not remembered that she initiated the contact, but Luke failed to elaborate. 

“Do I love Sophia Keller? Do I miss her?” He lifted his right hand, palm down, over his face as if to inspect if it still had five fingers. The entirety of his body felt heavy and foreign, like his consciousness was transferred to an alien host.  Even then, his mind did not feel right. Luke smiled as he added, “I do.” What he failed elaborate was which did his ‘I do’ answer. Then again, it may be because he too had no idea which his answer was for. “But love is… It is not real. To believe the impulses inside the brain when it does that funny chemical reactions is too costly. I can’t afford to love and hurt and be distracted.”

Luke let his hand rest on his stomach, but his stare remained fixed on the ceiling. “Love is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken,” he recited quietly from memory. Was he in love with Sophia? They had such a fluid relationship that it never occurred to him to consider the extent of the feelings he had for the actress. “I wish for her to be here with me right now, to hold my hand and sing to me. Then I can make her smile and laugh, make her mad at me for being silly.” He leaned his face on the pillow to look at his fiancee. It might be the medication, or it might be his callous self, but the words kept pouring out his mouth without filter. She asked him questions and he replied in all honesty. Because the truth was brutal.

“Maybe I miss her, but does that mean that I love her?” If he would use the ancient poet’s words as the benchmark of love, then he failed. It was because the poet described loved as an unmoving, unchanging, unshakable something. Luke’s gaze was grim, meaning every word he said when he added, “Tell me what you know about this concept of love? Because I don’t think that I’m doing this right.” Shadow fell on the planes of his seemingly chiseled features, softening it a little so he did not appear to be the same sharply dressed man who was obliged by society to be perfect.