Love Me to Death

Love. It was the holy grail, the thing everyone fawned over and gave advice on, and yet we couldn't adequately define it. At least, not in words alone.

Once, Devin discovered its definition. It was defined the same way it was pronounced—Amber. Then, everything went horribly wrong. So wrong, he didn't think another definition could ever find him again.

Friday, he thought. Here at last. He locked up his apartment and then set a course for the library. It was only three blocks away, and with autumn marvelously marbling Maven Street's trees with its reds, oranges, and yellows, he wasn't in a hurry. The books would still be there when he arrived.

Treetop canopies rustled as he traveled the sidewalk, their shade breaking into light-streaked gaps. "Hello, friend," he whispered to the wind, the leaves seeming to rustle anew. The response was purely his imagination, he knew. Still, it was neat when the wind sometimes blew right when he said to.

A girl's laugh and the smell of lavender washed over him, the wind gusting and twisting it passed in a torrent of leaves carried up from the sidewalk.

Devin froze.

A girl burst from a side street, blossoming into view as she rounded the corner ahead with pin-wheeling arms, another gale of laughter peeling away as she chased a fluttering ribbon.

"Hey! Get back here, you!" She padded to a stop and doubled over before him. Whew! "I thought it was a goner for sure." She straightened and beamed. "Nice save!"

Devin blinked. "What?"

"Nice save!" She leaned forward and took her ribbon, which the wind had folded around his forearm. "If not for you, I probably would been chasing that into the next town! Are you a hero with all the girls?"

Devin had no idea what was happening. For all the time he spent navigating curated story towers and entrenched within the word walls of long dead poets, a word wizard, he was not. "It's Friday. I was just going to the library. Would you want to go?" The question was away before he had fully considered it. But before he could walk it back, she had already replied. "You want to?"

"Yes!" she repeated with that same smile that had rounded the corner like Autumn's sun climbing above the horizon.

"Oh... Are you sure?"

"Well, not if you don't want me to."

"No, no, it's not that, it's just..." He sighed. "Sorry. I'm not good at this stuff. I--I'm Devin. What's your name?"

"Sara."

"Sara?"

"You don't approve?"

"Actually, I really like it. I just wanted to make sure I was pronouncing it right."

"I loved the way you said it. It was like hearing it properly for the first time and only just realizing that it had always been said wrong before." She hooked her arm into his. "So, thank you." She raised onto her toes and kissed his cheek, which was flush long before her lips came and went.

Devin cleared his throat. "Uh... We should get going." He glanced at their linked arms as they traveled. This can't be real. "So, what do you like to read?"

"I'd love anything you do."

"Yeah, but surely you have a preference."

"Of course."

"What is it?"

"Whatever you want."

Devin stopped, his brows knitting together. "I would never tell you what to like. I'd want you to decide."

"Okay," she said with a nod.

"And?"

"What should I choose?"

He pulled his arm free and backed away as she followed. "Just stop." It was almost like he was seeing Amber play out all over again. His heart hammered, his breath ragged as he watched her freeze, watched her face pale, her lips turn blue.

"Breathe!" He shouted as he took hold of her arms.

Sara gasped and collapsed into his arms, the blue of her lips deepening.

His eyes squeezed closed and sent tears down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead against her face. "Why does this keep happening?" he sobbed. He could see it all play out, see her brilliant smile and laugh barreling towards its final sunset.

Then, his eyes grew cold. He forced a kiss against her temple. "Abandon everything you ever heard from me and forget we ever met."

Devin laid her down and backed away as the color returned to her lips, her breath growing steady.

He turned and ran, vowing to never let it find him again.

[Writing Constraints] Trope: Compelling Voice. Genre: Romantasy.

I usually try to do something different when given constraints or prompts. In case you’re unfamiliar, the Compelling Voice trope is where its user gains unparalleled control over a listener. When considering a potential story, I thought, What if the user was introverted and withdrawn, never fully understanding this ability? This story was the result.