Chapter Text
/lʌst/
The strong desire for something or someone
Eros was the god of love in Greek mythology. He had his own story, in which he fell in love with a mortal woman. In the end, the woman jumped off an edge and fell. That’s what love is, jumping off a cliff hoping to fly but you just fall to the ground.
Maybe that’s why I hate my name. There’s something poetic, about being named after the god of love when you don’t believe in it. Love is a myth, a façade, nothing more and nothing less. Maybe I don’t know what I'm talking about, but I’m not going to gamble my heart away for something as trivial as chemicals flowing in my brain.
I walk through the school corridors. I can see all the couples stroll beside me. They're holding hands and exchanging kisses. I feel a hinge of sadness for them. They’ll all break up at some point, and they’ll all forget what they felt at that moment they were in now. I made my way through the crowd to the oak tree I knew they wouldn’t be at.
It's a gorgeous tree. It has been on campus for multiple decades, which one could guess easily from its condition. It has long, thick branches that had been carved full of hearts and names of previous students. It had yellowish leaves that were turning greener with every passing moment. The tree was my favorite thing on campus, and my best friend. College had barely started, so I hadn’t bothered to socialize yet, but nonetheless, the tree was already my best friend.
I climbed onto the lowest branch, and from there I scrambled to the taller branches. I sat against the old tree, one leg hanging from the side. I had left my bag down to the ground, but I had my book with me. It’s an old book, by my grandmother. It’s a collection of poems by Charles Bukowski – “Love Is a Dog from Hell”. It used to be in my grandmother's poem collection, but it’s in my ownership now.
"Hey, you!” came the feminine voice from the bottom of the tree. I looked down, to see her. She had bright red hair that one couldn’t miss if they tried. She was wearing brown corduroy pants with an oversized, white collared shirt. She also had a beret on her head, that was the same color as her pants. She was holding a book, but I couldn’t see the title. I stared down at her, without saying a word. I didn’t bother to open my mouth, as I believe that one’s eyes tell all that is needed to be told. She stared back.
We held this position for a while, but then she looked away and began climbing up the tree branches to me. She held out her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Psyche”. I took her hand and pulled her up. She thanked me. “Who are you?” I didn’t respond.
Her eyes were beautiful. They were gorgeous jade green. I thought about how I could get lost looking into her eyes. Maybe one day I will. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind.
Her hands were still grasping onto the book, which I could see now. “Songs of Innocence and of Experience” - William Blake. I remember seeing it before, in my grandmother's library. I had never read it though.
“Are they good poems?” I asked as I nodded towards the book in her hand. She, in return, nodded back enthusiastically. “I love poetry. I always have loved it. I like to write my own too – do you want to see?” I smiled at her and nodded. She handed me her notebook, and I flipped through the pages until I saw one that stuck out to me.
“Love is a vast sea
And it is filled with secrets, stories, and remembrance
And it is made to conceal, to hide, because one is only the pain they have
And love is only connecting to neglect what one doesn’t want to remember
And the sea and its waves are the beauty one chooses to focus on
As diving into the profound will always be too hard
But disguising ache together connects two in a way like no other
Oh, and I'm in love with you
Sorry.”
-Psyche
“I like this one” I pointed at the one I just read. She took the notebook, and I swear to the gods I saw her blush, but I didn’t say anything. “Thank you, I like it too.”
After that day, we continued meeting each other. One day after another we met at the oak tree, and I helped her up the old, gnarly branches. Through the fall to winter to spring. I couldn’t help but wait for her, and I couldn’t help the never-ending desire I had to spend just 5 more minutes with her. Her eyes were like poison, her hair was like fire, and her touch was the sweetest relief of pain. Her lips were like a kiss from death, as it felt like I was in heaven when I felt hers on mine.
And yes, I did, eventually, get lost in her eyes. I could imagine the vast seas of knowledge and memories I may swim through. The lost artifacts and memorabilia from her mind at the bottom of her eyes, the boundless ocean of her mind. I stared into her eyes and imagined laying on the beach made of sands of time, ignoring the waves of memories wetting our shoes, socks, and toes. It would be just me holding her hand and us looking up at the stars that used to be her dreams.
You know, I used to be afraid of love, because everything that falls gets broken. But now, I've thrown myself over that cliff, like I swore I'd never do, because she was there to catch me.