Hands touch, eyes meet
Sudden silence, sudden heat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy
But I'm not that girl

Don't dream too far,
Don't lose sight of who you are
Don't remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl

Every so often we long to steal
To the land of what might have been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in

Blithe smile, lithe limb
She is winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl
That's the girl he chose, and heaven knows
I'm not that girl

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
There's a girl I know, he loves her so
I'm not that girl

Dainty feet poked out from underneath her full white skirt as she raced through the crowd of masked dancers, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she searched for that elusive face.

Somehow she knew he would be able to help her.

She span around, peering at the faces, hoping to see through the masks; hoping for that sudden flash of recognition that would tell her why she was here.

And then he was in front of her, his hand captured hers, and pulled her closer, the other arm snaking around her waist, holding her to him.

She looked up at him through her lashes, and immediately mismatched cerulean captured the emerald that sparkled with innocence in the ballroom light.

And suddenly, it all didn't seem to matter.

She lost herself in those eyes, held by the deep azure, sending shivers dancing up her spine, and gentle cold touches raising goosebumps on her alabaster skin.

It was almost as if he had seen inside her – seen her longing for such a romantic moment.

Boy meets girl.

Boy falls in love with girl.

Boy takes girl dancing and they share a perfect first kiss under the stars.

He could be that boy.

He span her, drawing her from her thoughts, before guiding her in a dizzying waltz across the marble floor.

Breaking their locked gazes, he leaned forward, singing softly in her ear as he led her.

His hot breath tickled her ear, sending a fresh wave of shivers down her spine, and making her heart leap in a manner she was unaccustomed to. It left her feeling warm; feeling as though the blood rushing through her veins was far too hot, spreading a fuzzy feeling through each limb.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, something screamed at her that this wasn't going to last, but at that moment, she didn't care.

She rested her head on his chest, and listened to the steady pulse of his heart, and the slow sound of his breath as he sang to her. She closed her eyes and let his music wash over her, the notes soothing her further until she felt weightless in his strong arms.

Around her, courtiers frowned their disapproval, and women snarled in envy, making a point to tousle her as they danced around the pair. But still, she remained calm in his strong arms.

Get out, Sarah

The voice in her head; her conscience whispered, but she couldn't. Not now. Not when she felt the safest that she had in years.

Like she'd finally found the place where she belonged. She'd found that boy.

But even so, she knew sometime this would end – they couldn't dance forever, could they?

She opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking back up at his handsome features. Once more, their eyes locked and she lost herself.

Sarah? Sarah who?

His hand, encased in soft white leather came up, pulling her chin up and he began to lean in.

She could feel his hot breath on her lips now, there was barely any distance between them.

'This is it,' she thought, 'This is what I was searching for,'

All her life, she'd wanted one perfect moment with the unattainable man of her childhood fantasy, and now it was finally here.

There was a hair's breadth between them now, and he tightened his grip around her waist, allowing the hand on her chin to trace a path along her jaw, sliding into her mess of sable curls.

This was it.

And the clock began to chime.

The spell was broken.

She wrenched herself from his grasp.

'How could I be so stupid?" she thought, furiously, 'I almost lost sight of myself,'

She pushed through the other masked dancers, shoving them from her path as they mocked and taunted her.

When she broke free of the crowd, Sarah ran to the edge of the crystal and searched.

Her gaze caught on a chair and she grabbed it, lifting the furniture as easily as she could.

But before she lashed out, she turned back.

His head was turned from her, the dainty hand of another woman turning him to her, holding his eyes.

Sarah bit her lower lip.

The blonde woman gave the man a blithe, dazzling smile, trailing her other hand up his arm to his shoulder, letting her fingers trace the embroidered pattern on his vest.

She was winsome, Sarah realised, and she turned from the scene.

She wins him.

Sarah threw her chair.

As the crystal shattered around her, she gave a sad smile.

He could be that boy.

'But I'm not that girl,'

.1.1.1.1.1.

Sarah Williams sat up in a cold sweat. She was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and her legs drawn up to her chest.

The brunette rested her forehead on her knees and grit her teeth, willing herself not to cry.

It had been seven and a half years now since she'd run that Labyrinth, and still he haunted her in her dreams.

Each night, she was back in that crystal ballroom, stealing herself away to the land of what might have been.

And each night it was the same. It never helped, her dreams. All it did was make her ache all the more for him, the moment she awoke.

For that boy.

She felt the hot tear slide down her cheek before she realised she was crying, and Sarah scolded herself.

She was being ridiculous, she knew it.

The Goblin King was no mere boy. He was a King. A Fae king. And most certainly not interested in a mere mortal chit like herself.

Besides, after that tormenting crystal dream, he'd made his choice.

Blonde hair with a gentle curl. That's the girl he chose.

And heaven knows she was not that girl.

.1.1.1.1.1.

"I wish..." Sarah sat at her window, staring out over the empty park, bathed in moonlight, "I wish..."

But she couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to say those last words that would bring the Goblin king to her.

Sarah didn't think she could take the rejection.

Besides, what if he did feel the same? It couldn't work. He could not live above, and she couldn't below. She was mortal.

She was not made to live among the Fae.

The otherwas Fae.

Sarah closed her emerald eyes and rested her head against the windowsill, taking a long, slow breath.

"I wish..." she sighed out, re-opening her eyes to glance into her darkened room.

Her long fingers came up and raked through her hair.

Don't wish, Sarah. Wishing only wounds the heart.

She slid from her seat and pattered through her room, before sliding back into her bed and under the covers.

Her last words before she drifted to sleep were simple and so soft that any human would have to strain to hear them.

"I wish I was that girl,"

A million miles away in another realm of reality, a Fae crowed victoriously.

As soon as Sarah slipped into the dreamscape, he found her and gathered her into his arms, claiming her lips with his own.

Plus, I'm procrastinating my "Why Labyrinth is an imaginative journey" essay because I fear that I will begin talking about how the tightness of Jareth's pants is a conflict between the real/ideal dichotomy.

Think about it.

Review most welcome!

Cheers,
The Flame Faerie