Amaryllis closed her door and gritted her teeth as she expected to get a mouthful from whoever was on the other side. Instead, she received an apology from a rather attractive male. âYouâre sorry? I just made you eat my locker.â
âAh, donât worry about it. Iâm sure that it was my fault for the matter.â Intently eyeing her, his attention trailed down at her body before looking back up at the female eyes, a tiny smile blooming on his features. âIâm Jason, itâs a pleasure to meet you. I donât think Iâve ever seen you before and I never thought our first meeting would be because of you hitting me with a locker door.â A chuckle slipping past his lips, he ruffle his hair before bowing. âIâm sure you get plenty compliments for your beauty?â
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She grinned, then, and shrugged, although Ari couldnât see it. âOf course I am.â Jackâs palm kneaded along flesh and muscle. She hummed lightly, fingers dancing across warm skin before pressing down again and again. âWhoa, thatâs really tightâŚâ Her voice held with it undertones of concern underneath the usual amusement that came with the fact that she could draw out sounds from Ariâs mouth.Â
âThe muscles in your shoulders are all tight and weird, you should relax more often, Red.â
She hummed at the statement, and pulled the latex glove further down her hand, releasing it with an audible snap. âItâs not like Iâll cut you up or anything,â she reassured the other female, even though it should come as no surprise that Jack sorely wanted to. What was true friendship without wanting to see each otherâs insides? Her fingers alighted upon a plastic case and she opened it, test tube ready on the bench, and a mouth swab in her hand. Here she grinned, and ran her fingers along Ariâs cheek before tapping it. âAlright, open up. Letâs get those samples.â
In this lifetime, Amaryllis is a villain. Sheâs named aftera plant, aptly so, and sheâs beautiful as she is deadly, and every bit theperson that Steven should be avoiding. There is a head count and she counts it bydriving black chalk against white walls when they catch her, and she escapes,and by the time she comes back the walls are scrubbed clean for her to ruinagain. Sheâs always liked the blank canvases, and saw them in people, andpainted it red.
In this universe, Steven is the hero with the bleedingheart, the martyr whoâs not afraid to sacrifice everything that he is to keepeveryone safe. He knows how to kill men but he wonât. He knows how to rule themand he will. Heâs a leader and a brother, and his heart belongs to the world heâstrying to subjugate. And in this one, he tries to save her.
Heâs too pure, this king-to-be, and she lets him believethat a malformed mind can be reformed into something that everyone can accept.Except sheâs never wanted something so flimsy, so fleeting; acceptance and lovearenât things she can digest, and so she spits it out and makes art out of him,this perpetually blank canvas.
She wonders why the red just wonât wash out of her hands after heâs touched them, like he expects her to save him from the death sheâs condemned him to.
In the next one, he poisons himself every day. He inhales itthrough his mouth through a cigarette and she meets him when liquid nightmaresrun in his veins and through his waking moments. But heâs charming, as heâsalways been, and he reads to her and she thinks his voice is just as musical aswhat comes out of her throat on-stage. He kisses her everywhere like he wonâtbe able to next time. They say sheâs too smart for him, that she deserves more,but science has always been cold and bleak and clean-cut and he blurs all thelines with the colour he brings into the world.
He tells her he loves her and she almost believes that shecan save him.
But love isnât about saving people, not to him, and he hatesbeing the charity case.
I can stand on my own.
She finds that this is what echoes in the empty spaces heâsleft behind. Nothing sounds quite the same.
Itâs not in the next one, or the next one, but the one afterso many lifetimes, across universes, that she becomes his saviour.
She regrets saving him, at first, pulling him out of thatplane heâs crashed into the Amazon, into her home. Sheâs lived away from humansfor too long. Plants speak to her in calmer tones, and they worship her as sheshould be. Sheâs not like her mother; she has more hatred, more instability,and sheâs more of a villain than Poison Ivy will ever be. But sheâs also tiredof it, and for Christâs sake, she just wanted to go on a holiday â except thishas clearly lasted longer than she expected it would. (Not like anyone seems tobe looking for her, which is just as well.)
She remembers his face because she almost killed him once,but he greets her like heâs forgiven her and sheâs confused. Why should he?What gives him reason to smile, all perfect pearly whites, like sheâs justanother person he can help and not a freak who can kill him just as quickly asshe can kiss him (or maybe itâs the other way around)?
He stays with her until she decides to leave. She thinks itannoying, but heâs useful â more useful than he had been. Heâs learnt how tofire a gun, and although he doesnât kill he injures. (Thereâs always that lookin his eyes after heâs pulled the trigger, and she wants to tell him that heâsnot the one whoâs been hurt.)
Thereâs something about him, though, that makes her angrywhen he comes back to the home sheâs made for him â heâs never complained,not once â and heâs bleeding, and JesusChrist, why canât he ever keep out of trouble?
He tells her that theyâve been cutting trees again, and hedoesnât want her to kill them, so he took them on himself.
Idiot.
She heals him as best she could, sleeps at his bedside, anditâs not long before she thinks that being stuck here is much worse than being out there. He follows her when heâs wellenough. Â
She thinks she may have loved him.
Steven thanks her, bids her goodbye, and all she gets fromhim is a kiss on her hand and a warm smile that might as well be the same lightsheâs bathed under for months. Excepthis warmth doesnât come in bodies pressed tight, in bated breaths in the dark.Heâs too modest, too kind, and all she remembers of him is the way she held hishand as he slept.
He is the hero of the story for a reason, because he comesout of a tragedy not with a villain but with the heart of a girl held so softlyin his hands as if itâll break. But he doesnât give it back, and she thinks hemay have a collection of them, and she remembers that Isla had fallen for him,too, and heâs broken her with kindness.
She decides that she hates this particular hero.
She hates how he comes to her when things donât go rightwith the girl he tells her he loves. She hates how she doesnât try to stranglehim; she hates how she listens.
She hates how she knows that he wonât kiss her the same way ashe would his lover but she kisses him back anyway.
In this lifetime, she doesnât kill him.
In this lifetime, she doesnât know if heâs saved her at all,but this is as close as she gets, and when he apologises the morning after shejust turns her back to him and tells him to leave. To him, true love conquersall, except Amaryllis never wanted to be conquered like this.
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Jack shrugged, indifferent. Being a freak was a compliment âbeing normal was boring, and whowould ever want to be normal anyway? Insteadof frowning, the corners of her lips curled upwards as she twirled a penbetween her fingers, thoroughly content with the description.
âGoddesses are also freaks in their own right,â she argues, returningto the papers scattered in front of her in the lab. It was a conundrum thatcould be solved with a single number that sheâd missed, and here she trulysmiled and triumphantly finished the equation before paying attention now tothe chemicals that lay in the space between her and Ari. âBecause they cancreate and destroy. Now, open up, pumpkin. Jack-jackâs curious about whatâs inside your mouth.â
Being disconnected from her powers was proving to be a challenge for Amaryllis. She had to learn how to focus her senses without the aid of nature, to not be afraid of the vulnerability she felt now that she was disarmed. She had her beauty and charm to help her out of precarious situations, but how long could that last? How could her mother send her own daughter to such a prison? Frustrated, she swung open the door of her locker forcefully, only to hit an innocent bystander on the other side.
Getting hit by a locker door wasnât always ideal for Jason, so when the object collided with the male body, he was ready to lash out on the person only to be presented by an actual beauty. He couldnât explain how an irritated person could actually be that attractive. âOh, Iâm sorry.â He bowed profusely, rubbing at the spot where he got hit on right after.
"And what if I did?" She raised a brow, a coy smile upon her lips. "I didn't know you had glasses, you should wear them more often. You look handsome."
âIâŚuhmâŚâ He laughed again, flustered, even though he shouldnât be, seeing as heâd always been showered with compliments for his looks. âI just ââŚI thought Iâd look better with contacts, butâŚI-Iâll take your word for it! But Iâm afraid I wonât make for good company at the moment,â he insisted, laughing again. âSurely you must have more excitable ventures to attend to?â