Today’s story is inspired by What Are You Afraid Of, by Gabriel Picolo.
“I’m dangerous,” Malice said. I could only make out the glowing coals of his eyes in the darkness, but the warm heavy presence that came with him dominated the cliff side ridge where we were meeting. I could feel my wax already start to soften from his heat.
“I don’t care.” I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. My flesh sizzled as it touched the brimstone of his body. He pulled back at first and then sighed and wrapped his arm around my back. His fingertips brushing the edges of my feathers caused them to melt into his hand, leaving small puddles of wax and dye along his charcoal colored skin.
“You’re already losing yourself in me,” he whispered. “Exurbia, we can’t do this. We’re a bad mix.”
I pulled back until I held his waist and could look into his eyes. The coals had cooled from intense white and blues to gentle reds and yellows. I could see drops of my hair sliding down the heat of his chin, and pouring into the rocky breaks of the cinnabar deposits in his flesh.
“No,” I replied. “We’re perfect. I can survive your heat the way others couldn’t.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he said. He slipped from my hands, and stepped back to the edge of the cliff. My wax cooled immediately and I could feel my hair and feathers reforming, although I felt a little lighter from the lost mass. “I am sorry. I can’t control this heat.”
He slid onto the lip of the cliff; taking a seat and hanging his legs over the edge. We were on a peak somewhere between the mortal world and the heavens. One of the countless mountains left floating in the aether between creation and dream. We were both angels of flesh and reality. Part of the world’s matter and made alive as guardians of material flesh. Our guiding hands on the men and machines below that worked in our flesh was what lead us to connect. To find one another.
His burning wings were slumped down and it let me wrap my arms around him. I pressed my torso against his back and the sharp blades of stone and cinnabar cut into my stomach, but I let the pain pass. I just cared for him, and would bare whatever suffering let me be near. He sighed, breathing in our combined presence.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Malice said. “And I won’t let you be hurt by me.” He slipped from my grip and down the side of the cliff. I moved to chase after him but found myself stuck. His hand had pressed against mine and realized he had molded my wax into the rocks. I was reforming, pulling back from the stone but it was enough time for him to disappear below.
“Malice,” I screamed, but only forgotten reality could hear my cries.
Relationships can be troubling. Even non-intentional pain can spring up between lovers through their natures. There are those who can survive and those who don’t want to force their loved ones to have to deal with their troubles. These choices can leave each of them in a wake of pain, and sometimes that echo can be worse than what would have been suffered together.