Dreams can be as infinite as the ocean. Dreams can be fickle and ever changing; easily swayed here and there. They can be beaten down by the weight of the world or stamped out from a sense of duty. Most will disintegrate with time, unable to exist in a world full of hopelessness. A world where dreams and reality are always at odds.

Maybe that’s why Aosh can’t quite wrap his mind around it still. That all of his dreams he had ever imagined were finally coming to fruition. Aosh's hand brushes down the lapels of his tuxedo; assessing his appearance in the ornate mirror that hangs in the dressing room. The suit is nothing special, just the typical black reserved for occasions such as this. Despite that, the Alpha feels like a princess on her coronation day, the thrill of dressing up for one of the most important days of his life sends him adrift on cloud nine. He takes the neatly folded handkerchief in his pocket out to dab at the corners of his eyes.

It feels a little silly to tear up like this, especially when he’s just looking at himself. He hasn’t dressed this nice in a long time, and hasn't been so nervous in about as long either. It was only a month earlier he was convinced he was destined to live life alone. Aosh had come as close to hopeless as ever before. The concept of fated mates had lost all meaning to him if he wasn't able to have his own in every way possible; in body and in heart. Selfishly he wanted every part of Tiza, just like he dreamed of since he was a child.

But looking at himself right now, he could hardly be the boy that wanted that dream in the first place. At least not anymore. He had grown, had learned that there was more to “wanting his fated mate” than was on the surface. There was a lot of disappointment and discovery. Rejection and reconciliation. His heart was broken and mended in so many different ways that at some point he was convinced he might never love again. Begrudgingly, Aosh learned what no amount of flowery romance novels could ever teach him. Love wasn’t what he thought it was. It was hard, messy, and beautiful.

He had been blinded by this idealized version of love his entire life, and maybe it blinded him to the point he couldn't quite see real love anymore; especially when it was directed towards himself. Red rimmed eyes traced over his features. His brow was creased, bottom lip red from being worried between his teeth, and the handkerchief shook in his grasp. He was the best dressed mess he had ever seen. Aosh lets out a deep exhale through his nose.

Tiza loved him. 

That was the only thing he had wanted in this life, to be loved by the only person he had loved without rhyme or reason. Part of Aosh didn't believe he was allowed to have it or even deserved it. He felt like an imposter standing in front of the mirror. Like he had taken someone’s rightful place at Tiza’s side. Tiza’s affection was too good for him; even though he craved it like a drowning person craves air. His attention drifts to the anti-bite collar around his neck and, in an effort to calm his frayed nerves, tries to remember how things came to be like this.