The only sound is a soft breeze rustling through the evergreen trees in peaceful woodland beyond human corruption. A broad and unbroken field of snow-covered ice lies ahead, stretching further into the horizon until it approaches the gloomy, chaotic barrier of dense woodland on the opposing coastline. Above that woodland, darkness reigns, pitch black skies speckled with far more stars than anything you could ever deem imaginable. A linear blur of green light glows lustrously in the northern skies and gradually morphs into leaping bolts of scintillating and iridescent rays of light that race over the vast darkness of space. The Aurora Borealis.
Slowly, the curvature of the earth starts to rise in the east, followed by its oceanic contours and a glowing disk of luminescence. Lastly, with a radiant burst of golden shafts of light, the sun begins its ascent in the east. The rays of golden light illuminate the clear and calm blue skies, casting eccentric patterns of light and shadow around the forest. The only creature who has made any noise at all is a blue jay perched on a broad leafy tree by the lakeside, singing joyfully at the top of its lungs. Solitude.
"Are you okay?" A soft voice guides me out of my trance.
"Yeah" I whisper back just as gently, afraid that even the smallest of sounds would break the silence.
I fall back into my thoughts, this time they are trained on the beautiful black-haired boy beside me. Vante's characteristics sometimes remind me of origami. He's all angles and sharp edges. Sharp triangular jaw line sanded over gently, very gently, to give it a softer edge. In some perspectives, his eyes appear fox-like, with sharp ends that soften when he smiles. Oh my, his smile is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Like a curtain peeled back, it unveils the show stopper: his dimples. His lips are carved in the style of a doll's, the upper lip a little deeper and plumper than the one below, placed so very delicately. Skin as pale as porcelain, he reminds me of a prince. His aura cannot be mistaken for anything less than royalty, exuding immense power and fiercely intense confidence. His thick set of brows give him a mysterious and stern appearance. With a voice as deep as the ocean, it reminds me of a cold glass of vodka, piercing but soothing, as if all your worries are washed away with one sip. He is gorgeous, like a fairy from your dreams: ethereal.
Invisible waves of bittersweet euphoria ripple through my entire being as I am cast into the infinite depths of paramount darkness before me. My heartbeat quickens its pace as the booming sound of laughter echoes through the wilderness across the lake, piercing through the tranquility and peace of the quiet break of dawn. With every reverberation I feel myself becoming more and more entranced as I perch myself against the bark of the tree and let myself smile.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what true love looks like—pure and untainted by lust. A beautiful and blooming rose. Then, I remember that you cannot see love, you feel it and you will know when you feel it, or rather, the lack of it. One taste and you're addicted, falling into the dark abyss of greed. You crave to taste more, obsessed until you can't survive a day without it. Love. Such a beautifully treacherous thing. Love. The feeling that consumes me whenever I let my mind wander towards the boy next to me. Now I have the answer to my question, this was true love–permanent love.
It all feels like a reverie now, too good to be reality. Maybe it is. Maybe I made him up in my mind, desperately seeking redamancy, the feeling of someone loving you back the same way you love them. Perhaps he is a figment of my imagination; a product of my eunoia, but I do not care. He is the nepenthe helping me forget my lacuna.
"I'm sorry" He says, looking at me for the first time since the dawn of the new day.
"I know" I reply, the smile on my face turning melancholy.
"Can you grant me one last request before you leave?" I find myself asking.
"Promise me that whenever you think of me, you'll think about the good times that we had. Before you stopped loving me." I wait for him to tell me that he takes back everything he said, that he loves me still, but it never comes. All that is sent my way is a somber nod before he stands up.
"I love you" I said for the last and final time.
He doesn't hear me as he makes his way out of the woods and out of my life forever.
"I still love you" I muttered one last time before I was left alone to ponder my thoughts.
My love for him runs so sickeningly deep that its thorns are rooted deep in my lungs. White roses prickle my organs as the sinfully gleaming blood cloaks the white of these flowers. They bloom whenever I see him, making even the softest of petals feel like icicles that grow in the winter. The love I feel for him is still true love–permanent love. It would have hurt less if he was truly just a part of my fantasies, it would have hurt less when I had the epiphany that his love was not true–it was ephemeral.
