Can't Fix Cupid

Because his soul sings to mine. Our bodies play something only we can hear. It’s the reason why I’ve always been drawn to him. Even across different planes and separated by a Veil. He was mine, and I was his.

“You’re the one going against the rules,” he says evenly. “We agreed. Fast, fun, and heated. That’s it.”

“Fuck the rules!” I cry. “This is more, and you know it.”

He gets to his feet angrily. “I said to drop it. You’re fucking everything up right now.”

I rear back like he just slapped me across the face. “Do you want me to apologize for falling in love with you? Because I won’t.”

“You need to stop this. Stop this right now and forget all of it.”

I shake my head, dashing away the tears that are falling down my face. “No. Why are you acting like this? I know you feel the same way. Why are you pushing me away?”

“We’re done,” he snaps, before turning to stalk off back towards the hill.

But I jump to my feet and grab his arm before he can walk away. “I want to know why.”

He rounds on me. “There is no why,” he sneers. “I just don’t feel that way about you.”

I shake my head at him, baffled and livid and breaking. “You’re lying! Tell me why the fuck you’re lying.”

He shakes me off and tries to walk away again, and this time, I don’t move to stop him. “Fine, walk away. Revert to the asshole everyone thinks you are. But I know that it’s all just a mask. You’re hiding behind it because you’re a fucking coward who can’t tell the truth, Warren Knight.”

That finally makes him snap.

“You want the fucking truth?” he yells, turning and stalking towards me until we’re just inches apart. I don’t back down despite the fury in his dark, beautiful face.

“I. Can’t. Commit,” he says, landing each word with another punch of his voice. “And you can’t stay.”

“But I’m trying to!” I yell back at his face. “I might be able to if I—”

“Don’t,” he cuts me off. “Because I can’t stay either.”

I frown, his words making me stumble. “What the fuck are you talking about? Stop talking in circles and spit it out!”

“I’m fucking dying!”

His breathing heaves. Mine stops.

I blink. He stares.

My three words become overshadowed by his three words.

“What?”

He snatches my hand and shoves it against his chest, right over the small scar there.

“This. This right here is why I can’t commit,” he says, gripping me so hard it hurts. “Brugada syndrome. It’s genetic, and mine is more severe than most. I’ve already had too many close calls, even with the defibrillator. I’m one more episode away from blacking out and not waking up again. It killed my father, and it’ll kill me.”

I shake my head in denial. “No. You’re not dying. Look at you. You’re fine.”

A flash of pain crosses his expression before he shutters it again. “I’m not.”

My face scrunches up in utter despair as more misery drips from my eyes. “No. You’re Warren Knight. You have resources and wealth...there has to be something you can do.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” he says, dropping my hand with disgust. “You think I haven’t seen all of the best doctors in this whole goddamn world? My condition just keeps worsening. Short of a heart transplant, there’s nothing more I can do,” he says evenly, as if it’s a line he’s heard a hundred times before. “And a transplant might just ki

ll me faster.”