I Love You Till Forever Falls Apart
The following short story was submitted by Veronica Kiang
She looked at him with wide eyes and knew what he was about to say.
“I love you.”
With a squeal, she leaped into his arms, and as always, he caught her. His arms made a cage around her, protecting her as he rolled her onto her back. Their legs tangled as they pulled each other closer, enveloping one another. She had never felt so…euphoric, so…free. He was the first man who had ever told her that he loved her, the first one who reciprocated the depth of feelings she had for him. A red candle was lit in the background, filling the air with the sweet scent of raspberries that would forever be associated with him. In that moment, she felt nothing but pure bliss. Nothing compares to the first time someone tells you they love you.
When she first met him, she thought it was fate putting him onto her path. Soulmates. They would spend all their time together while being anxious about crossing imaginary lines, unsure of how the other felt. For a while, it was the same sort of dance: flirtatious comments, a lingering touch here and there. Her heart fluttered every time he looked into her eyes. The tension eventually became insurmountable as she recalls their first time vividly.
The room was dim, only illuminated by the light from the TV and the flickering red candle. She was sitting in front of him on the bed, watching some irrelevant TV show that none of them were paying attention to. How could they when the room was charged with so much electricity, generated by their dark temptations? He lightly touched her shoulder, grazing it with his fingertips. He dragged his hand up from her shoulder and lightly traced a pattern from the nape of her neck to the edge of her jaw. She turned to look at him and was surprised to see his face closer than anticipated. He leaned in, and for the first time, they kissed. Once that first line was crossed, all caution was thrown out. They undressed each other recklessly, fuelled by an unspoken hunger that demanded to make its presence known. No matter how close they were, it was never enough. Even when he was inside of her, they were still empty. But for a moment, they could pretend they were whole. Soon enough, they were tangled up in the sheets together, with nothing between them besides a slick sheen of sweat.
The next couple weeks continued like this. He would come to see her, and then they would come together. Their devotion to one another escalated exponentially. Whenever they were not with each other in person, they were on the phone together. Each day only offered 24 hours, yet they chose to spend 20 of those hours together on the phone or in person. The more she had of him, the more she needed him. He was the opposite. The more he had her, the more conservative he was with his love and attention. She could feel him starting to get bored of her, and everytime he called her crazy for doubting him, she would sink further into a spiral of paranoia and anxiety.
One night, while he was asleep in her bed, his phone chimed. The phone glowed from a Tinder notification. The morning after, she confronted him about it, only to hear him say that he wanted to see other women. This was her cue to leave…except she didn’t. She could feel him slipping through her hands like sand in an hourglass. In fear of losing the best thing she had, she sunk her claws deeper into him. Whatever the other women offered, she would give twice as much. The emotional toll was worth it, to have him inside of her, telling her how much he loved her. She let herself wear out all for the sake of love. Slowly, but surely, she began to lose her friends. She isolated herself from those who reached out as she couldn’t bring herself to explain this mess she created. She didn’t have time to talk to them anyways. After all, she spent every waking moment basking in what she thought was his love.
Months passed. Each day that passed became more and more taxing on the girl. She couldn’t understand him at all. Was there something wrong with her? Was she not thin enough? Smart enough? Beautiful enough? The more she fought to keep him close, the more he taunted her. This was amusing for him, women fighting over who can please him the most. The damage he was causing was irrelevant, so long as he was satisfied. The more he pulled away from her, the more she craved his affection and validation. She needed it as badly as she needed to breathe. Someone who was once so strong had been reduced to a weak shell of a woman, begging for the scraps of love. She was addicted to the rush of being loved and he was the only one who could give her what she wanted. He haunted her every thought, occupying all the empty spaces in her mind until he consumed her mind.
She had always thought that the love they once had that was beautiful and pure, but that was foolish. She knew from the beginning that they weren’t supposed to be together. Right from the start, it was tainted. Yet if she could be the perfect woman for him, the darkness would fade. What she didn’t realize was that she was feeding directly into the darkness. They continued to see each other. Fighting, then fucking, then fighting all over again. If they were fighting particularly much that week, they would just fuck more to prove to themselves that they belonged together. The pain of what they were going through had to be worth something; it couldn't end in vain. What was once a reciprocal relationship became one sided with her losing more than she could afford.
After months of fighting, they looked at each other and realized they were no longer compatible. Something that had the potential to be beautiful had morphed into something wicked and cruel. They were both hollow people who were looking for affection in the wrong places. No matter how much they fucked or said they loved each other, they both knew their time was up. The knowledge that they were over did not stop them from continuing down this dark path together. They didn’t know how to let go.
She needed to be let go from his ironclad love. She needed to be free. She needed to become the strong woman she once was instead of this hollowed out version that was cruel and desperate for an ounce of affection. She needed to hear him say that he no longer wanted her, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to let go or free herself. Perhaps it was love in the beginning, but it wasn’t love anymore. They allowed their selfishness and recklessness to manifest, turning their love into a demonic creature that was never satiated. Their “love” consumed each other until there was nothing left; it had destroyed everything in its wake, taking down everything and everyone that was unfortunate enough to cross their path. There were many casualties, and in the end, no one won.
He was once again over at her place. They fucked without looking at each other. She straddled him, moving her hips while he clawed at her breasts. She threw her head back so she wouldn’t have to look at the face she grew to hate. Her nails dug deep into his chest to inflict pain. With eyes closed, she moaned in an impersonal way that she had learnt from being with men that used her body. In a sudden motion, he rolled them both over as he took control. His arms made a cage around her, holding her hostage rather than protecting her. He moved deep inside her, as if he were trying to bury all his problems into her body, as if she could handle anything more. When he finished, he laid beside her. Their legs were tangled together as he pulled her closer towards her. She had never felt so… trapped. She looked at the shadows on the wall created from the flickering flame of the candle. The once pleasant scent of raspberries was now overbearing and sickly sweet. Red wax dripped down the sides of the candle, reminiscent of her bleeding heart. He was the first man who had ever told her he loved her, but if this was what it meant to be loved, she never wanted another taste of it. In that moment, she felt nothing but pure loathing for herself. Is this what she had been reduced to? Every time he was inside of her, he came out with a piece of her until she had nothing more to give. She knew she had to stop seeing him, yet was too weak to leave on her own.
He sighed contently, kissing the top of her head. His eyes poured into her conflicted ones, blissfully ignorant to her inner turmoil. Suddenly, she recognized the expression he made. A sense of panic and dread suddenly took over as she feared what he would say next. She looked at him with wide eyes and knew what he was about to say.
“I love you.”
Veronica is pursuing her undergraduate degree as a political science specialist and a criminology major. She is passionate about various social justice matters and loves to write short stories in her spare time.
Check out more about her on instagram: @veronica.kiang