“You don’t have to leave, Harlow.”
I turned to stare at him. His face was crisp and untouched, and the long, silvery strands of his hair inched their ways down to his waist. I eyed them longingly, wishing that this one miniscule difference did not exist.
“We aren’t the same, Emery. You are of the Elevated, and I am common. What good are you doing in stopping me? These wounds are enough reminder of why I cannot stay here.”
“But it doesn’t have to be this way!” His eyes etched with pain and anger, and creases formed on the perfect face he wore, “If I am so godlike, then why can’t I change it all? There are few of us, and more of you. A majority will agree with me if I decided that a Commoner could-“
“-could do what? Do you realize what your suggesting?” I turned to him, a cold fury building in my body. My throat was hot, and I gasped for the air to form the words on my tongue, “We are Heathrows, and Heathrows do not fall in love! Not only would you be suggesting to the society that the Elevated can mingle with Commoners, but that we should reduce ourselves to human emotion!” I felt my face grow red, and hadn’t realized until the moment I stopped speaking that I was panting and fighting tears at my eyes.
“Harlow…” Emery looked peaceful, instead of angry and wrought as he ought to, “…love?” He looked at me, questioningly. A tiny grin grew upon his lips.
I gasped, only too late to realize what I had done.
“Do you…” he struggled to find the words, “…love me? As primitive as you suggest it to be, it wouldn’t be the end of the world to admit it to me.”
In shock and embarrassment, I turned away from him. Anger flooded my veins as I raised my left arm towards his direction, opening my palm to face him. Hot flames of energy coursed the length of my arm.
“Do not make me attack you.” I warned, unsure of the sincerity of my own words.
“Attack me? Attack an Elevated Heathrow? Attack a Heathrow you love?” he taunted.
“Zephetsu!” I screamed, and a dark purple fire shot out of my arm, into his direction.
With a wave of his right hand he deflected the shot. Smiling, he unfolded his pure white wings and took flight ever so slightly, only to land with his chest nearly touching my extended hand.
“Please,” He started with a pleading tone that took me by surprise, though I was even more surprised when he reached out to touch my arm. “I am not like them.” On the word ‘them’ he gestured towards the cut just shy of my elbow. It was one of the deepest wounds on my body. “I want nothing to do with what they’ve instilled into you.” He covered the wound with his right hand, and with a quick burst of light, removed it to uncover no wound at all. A faint pink line was all that was left of the cut that almost rendered my arm useless. “Harlow, did you ever stop to think that love isn’t as primitive as we’ve been taught?” He was goading now, childishly picking on me, in a way that meant no real harm. “Have you ever thought that I could feel…” He stopped here. What is it he felt?
Instead of finishing the thought, he drew me closer working his healing hand towards the cut on my shoulder, seamlessly leaving only a pink line behind.
“I can feel, you know.” He said, as his arm worked its way towards the small of my back, where another deep cut lurked. “I can feel these emotions; ones that we aren’t supposed to feel, only know of.” His left hand now joined the tour of my body, this time finding a bleeding scratch under my collarbone.
“Do these other Heathrows simply acknowledge emotion, and disengage themselves from it?” His left hand worked its way upward towards a gash on my cheek, caressing it more gently than any of the others. It wasn’t until this moment that I had become aware of the fact that my body was paused in action completely. I was focused entirely on the movements of his hands, and the words of his mouth. Was my heart even beating still? Were my lungs still drawing breath? Every bit of my skin was pulsating, from the gash on my face, to the last feathers of my wings.
“No.” he said, bringing my attention back towards his face. “I won’t live in a world without you. I won’t live in a world where I can’t love you.” I gasped at the blasphemy of his words. There was a raw attractiveness towards the danger he spoke of. Even more enticing was the fact that he was admitting to me that I wasn’t the only one imagining a life together.
The hand that still held my cheek flashed a healing light, then dropped slightly to just underneath my chin. He stepped forward, so that he was closer to me than he had ever been in all my life. The right had that still rested on the small of my back drew me closer to him, as his fingers on my chin gently lifted my face to meet his.
“Heathrows do not fall in love, you said. Harlow, do you really believe that?”
I struggled for my words, unsure of what was about to come out, “Emery…” All I could manage was his name, though saying it felt exciting, and justified.
He smiled knowingly, “I thought so.” He said. Right then, he leaned even closer, and kissed me.
The touch of his lips to mine was electrifying. It was surreal, and completely unpredictable in its power. A built up store of energy in both our bodies mingled inside our mouths, not painfully, but instead excitatory. My wings fell limp beside my body, as though I had no consciousness left to support them. His fluttered in opposition, and wrapped around our bodies, pulling me closer into him. Our two beings, white and black, were now mixing together in a single form. My right hand found its strength and slowly worked its way to lie atop of his left, which was still holding my chin carefully. My other hand trembled slightly, as it reached over to lay on his hip.
Never had I felt so perfect and whole in my entire life. The flames of anger that often coursed through me were now flickering out, as though a calming basin of water had been poured over them. This moment was burning an image into my mind, that I refused to ever forget.