Labyrinth - Don't Tell Me Truth Hurts (U)
"Sarah," Michael sighed as his fingertips skimmed her cheek, his friendly blue eyes seeming to give a sad smile, eyebrows curving under his russet brown hair. "I think we need to talk."
Sarah shrugged her shoulders in accordance. "Okay," she smiled, gazing into her fiancé's eyes. "What would you like to talk about?"
"Us," he quietly said, letting his hand drop to rest on her shoulder, seeing the confusion in her eyes. "It's just -," he hesitated, pondering how to word himself. "Don't you ever feel that this just isn't working?"
A tight feeling pulled at Sarah's chest, seeming to overwhelm every other emotion, sensation, or thought as she stared at Michael in disbelief. "No, I don't," she stuttered, trying to gain some control of her ability to speak. "What are you talking about? I love you!"
"I know," Michael sighed again, audibly. "That's the problem. I don't love you," he quietly spoke in a gentle voice. "I'm sorry."
Sarah felt like she'd had her diaphragm physically pulled out through her throat, and then been slapped in the face as an apology. "Michael?" she questioned, a hint of anger betrayed in the scratchiness of her voice.
"I'm leaving, Sarah," he whispered, the sad smile still present in his eyes. "Now."
Sarah gasped, her throat tightening as a familiar prickling sensation settled behind her eyes as true to his word, Michael appeared to physically drift away through a pale haze. A loud gushing sound like the heaviest of waterfalls seemed to rush in her ears, overtaking every other sensation as her vision faded to black.
As the sound died away she opened her eyes to darkness, realising that she was lying on her side amongst soft, warm blankets. She was safe in her bed. It was all a dream.
Just a dream, she thought to herself with relief, although she could still feel her heart racing and an uncomfortable feeling in her throat as though she had just experienced it for real. Rolling over onto her other side, she jumped at the sight of a tall, velvet-clad figure standing beside her bed, watching her from under his teased blonde hair with - most surprising, to Sarah - the same sad expression in his eyes as she had just seen in her fiancé's.
"Jareth?"
She sat up in bed and turned to reach for her bedside lamp, flicking the switch as she straightened her nightdress around her shoulders. There was nobody there, she realised in the light. It was obviously just a trick of the shadows. Sarah physically shook her head as though trying to rearrange her thoughts. She had simply imagined him, of course - there was no reason why he would be there. After ten years of no hint that the Labyrinth and all it encompassed even existed, she had come to doubt that her journey had even happened - like a memory her mind created from her wild imagination, that she had somehow convinced herself years ago was true.
The possibility that the Goblin King had just been standing in front of her was obviously just a part of that imagination. She was surprised that she still had any left after setting her fantasy books aside when she was 16. With a tired sigh, Sarah shook her head again to clear her mind before lying her head down onto the pillows, as her eyes slowly drifted shut with weariness.
Unknown to Sarah in her sleep, a barn owl perched motionless on the roof above her open window, silently considering that even the ability to create any number of illusions, hallucinations, and dreams on another person could never replace the painful truth. Sarah would wake up tomorrow and happily go to work, meet her fiancé afterwards to arrange more plans for their wedding, and they would gaze into each others eyes lovingly, anticipating the day when they would finally pledge their undying love to each other.
And Jareth would return to the Labyrinth in solitude.
With a flurry of feathers, the owl gracefully launched away from the roof, briefly diving down to peer into the window again before finally moving away and soaring off into the night sky - the owl's single thought being a hope that when Sarah woke up, she didn't step on the shards of the glass orb that had fallen to the wooden floor when she awoke earlier.
Sarah shrugged her shoulders in accordance. "Okay," she smiled, gazing into her fiancé's eyes. "What would you like to talk about?"
"Us," he quietly said, letting his hand drop to rest on her shoulder, seeing the confusion in her eyes. "It's just -," he hesitated, pondering how to word himself. "Don't you ever feel that this just isn't working?"
A tight feeling pulled at Sarah's chest, seeming to overwhelm every other emotion, sensation, or thought as she stared at Michael in disbelief. "No, I don't," she stuttered, trying to gain some control of her ability to speak. "What are you talking about? I love you!"
"I know," Michael sighed again, audibly. "That's the problem. I don't love you," he quietly spoke in a gentle voice. "I'm sorry."
Sarah felt like she'd had her diaphragm physically pulled out through her throat, and then been slapped in the face as an apology. "Michael?" she questioned, a hint of anger betrayed in the scratchiness of her voice.
"I'm leaving, Sarah," he whispered, the sad smile still present in his eyes. "Now."
Sarah gasped, her throat tightening as a familiar prickling sensation settled behind her eyes as true to his word, Michael appeared to physically drift away through a pale haze. A loud gushing sound like the heaviest of waterfalls seemed to rush in her ears, overtaking every other sensation as her vision faded to black.
As the sound died away she opened her eyes to darkness, realising that she was lying on her side amongst soft, warm blankets. She was safe in her bed. It was all a dream.
Just a dream, she thought to herself with relief, although she could still feel her heart racing and an uncomfortable feeling in her throat as though she had just experienced it for real. Rolling over onto her other side, she jumped at the sight of a tall, velvet-clad figure standing beside her bed, watching her from under his teased blonde hair with - most surprising, to Sarah - the same sad expression in his eyes as she had just seen in her fiancé's.
"Jareth?"
She sat up in bed and turned to reach for her bedside lamp, flicking the switch as she straightened her nightdress around her shoulders. There was nobody there, she realised in the light. It was obviously just a trick of the shadows. Sarah physically shook her head as though trying to rearrange her thoughts. She had simply imagined him, of course - there was no reason why he would be there. After ten years of no hint that the Labyrinth and all it encompassed even existed, she had come to doubt that her journey had even happened - like a memory her mind created from her wild imagination, that she had somehow convinced herself years ago was true.
The possibility that the Goblin King had just been standing in front of her was obviously just a part of that imagination. She was surprised that she still had any left after setting her fantasy books aside when she was 16. With a tired sigh, Sarah shook her head again to clear her mind before lying her head down onto the pillows, as her eyes slowly drifted shut with weariness.
Unknown to Sarah in her sleep, a barn owl perched motionless on the roof above her open window, silently considering that even the ability to create any number of illusions, hallucinations, and dreams on another person could never replace the painful truth. Sarah would wake up tomorrow and happily go to work, meet her fiancé afterwards to arrange more plans for their wedding, and they would gaze into each others eyes lovingly, anticipating the day when they would finally pledge their undying love to each other.
And Jareth would return to the Labyrinth in solitude.
With a flurry of feathers, the owl gracefully launched away from the roof, briefly diving down to peer into the window again before finally moving away and soaring off into the night sky - the owl's single thought being a hope that when Sarah woke up, she didn't step on the shards of the glass orb that had fallen to the wooden floor when she awoke earlier.