Page 94 of Obsession

I try to mimic him and it comes out well enough that Aris pulls back to grin down at me. And it’s his smile, not his laugh, that clears my black mood.

I smile back at him, stupid enough to hope that our joy will last.

Chapter twenty-one

We pack a few days’ worth of clothes and food. Aris needs none of it; though curious at first about the concept of eating, he’s decided that he hates swallowing, and he’s worn the same dark shirt and pants for months now, as they never dirty or wrinkle.

He carries the supplies in a rucksack we found, a gentlemanly gesture that makes me smile. I don’t think to protest that I should carry my own belongings and pull my weight; I am too charmed.

Aris waits for me on the porch, and, as we start walking together, I ask, “Are you sure you can do it?”

“I think so.”

We come to a stop at the edge of the forest, and I almost smile as Aris raises his hands. Before, his powers were used with half a thought; they were part of him, an extension of himself. Now, he’s standing like a superhero in a default action pose, brows furrowed like he seeks to shoot lasers from his palms. He looks inexperienced, and almost goofy

A few seconds pass, and Aris steps closer, touching the bark of one of the humongous trees. Immediately, the thing disintegrates, black ash the only reminder that it ever existed. The destruction sets off a chain reaction—like dominos, the surrounding trees erupting into dark confetti—and onward and on.

With the implosion of each tree, the forest clears, revealing flat, unassuming land. The once impenetrable darkness surrenders to sunlight as ash coats the ground and offers a new stain to the setting. The feeling of unease and nausea is gone.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” says Aris, turning to me.

“What?”

“If I am the same.” Aris reaches to pluck ash from my hair. “If I have become corrupted.”

I watch him, the gentleness in which he handles me betraying the answer to the question. There was never any need to ask. “Have you?” I say to play along.

His hand moves to my cheek, fingers curling as he works a single, cold stroke. “It was beautiful, in a disturbed way,” admits Aris. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and it stays put. “But I think you are more beautiful.”

“And more disturbed?”

Aris smiles, mischievous and delighted, and offers me a hand. We begin walking.

“Tell me.”

“Roller skating. Ice skating. Skateboarding.”

“A lot of skating. What else?”

“Bowling. I used to hate it, though. I always got gutter balls.”

“‘Let’s not do something that you hated. What else is there?”

“Libraries?”

“Too boring.”

“What? You like reading!”

“And you take forever to finish a book. Give me that something we can do together.”

“What about amusement parks? County fairs?”

“Better. Give me more like that.”

I think for a moment while Aris swings our interlocked hands. “We could see a movie.”

Aris rolls his eyes. “Because we haven’t done that already?”

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