Dying For Her by Chin Zhi Qing (24S64) ★ Day 1 ★ The wind brushed past me, beckoning the oxygen from my lungs to follow. I tried my best to hold onto it; I really did. Then, my chest tightened, and there was a pop! Stars rushed out, ★ ★ a e v i g ★ w n i r ★ n t e ★ ★ ★ ★ with the vast emptiness and leaving my lungs longing. They left not even my secrets as they followed my gaze. They curled around those locks of hair, twirling down and down, dipping beneath her skirt... I came back up for air, only to have my voice stolen next. It felt like I had screamed for hours (I did — into my pillow at home.) No matter, I simply stuck my arm down my throat and presented whatever stardust I had leftover. “You look nice...” She tucked some hair behind my ear and tipped a glass to my lips. “So do you.” ★ ★ ★ ★ Day 7 ★ 150 hours since we met. By now, I had learnt. I gave up on breathing altogether and poured all my stars into a gift box in advance. The ribbon trailed like Aurora Borealis behind me as I ran to her for a hug. Tethered and unbreakable, not even black holes could tear me away. Daily, I’d give her the present and she’d let me bask in her warmth. Let me burn away with this summer love, let my ashes cling to her like wine on white shirts. Nightly, we were lifted off the ground. Let the Earth rush beneath us and spin out of view, let the cold hit bare skin as we climbed further into ecstasy. “Let me see stars,” I pleaded, so she hung the ones I gifted up on her guest room walls. With every passing day, more and more stars popped up, adorning the room. Eventually, I had to start taping them to the ceiling. She always complained about the mess with a smile, then we would lay in bed for hours on end and admire our handiwork. When morning came, I swore to her I felt them fly off and wrap their arms around us. “They’re not real stars,” she said, digging into the breakfast I made for her. “They felt real to me,” I said, hiding the bruise on my hand I had gotten while finding the pans. She teased me for thinking too fantastically. I opened my mouth to protest, but just looking at her — how her blissed-out eyes had a certain glaze over them and how her hair fell messily onto her shoulders — I was rendered too incoherent. This must be what love felt like. ★ Day 18 ★ After much reluctance on her part and much more insistence on mine, the bed we were in was mine tonight. I could breathe better while she looked uneasy. The ceiling was emptier; maybe that was the issue. “All my stars are at your place. What about hanging up some of yours here?” “That’s... Maybe next time.” “Are you sure? I honestly would love to see-” “I’m sure.” The air grew a little chillier, but that was probably just the air-conditioning, right? I pulled the blanket closer to my chest, trying not to waltz into the arms of hypothermia. I could have turned it up (I should have), but she liked it this way. “I can be your only warmth now,” she reasoned as our bodies melded together. I gave a weak smile. Even if I end up freezing over in this desolate bed streaked with burnt-up stars, even if I get shredded and become one with the meteoroids too abandoned by their home, when the moonlight fell so perfectly on her, who was I to complain? ... I woke up to a note and a coffee-stained mug where she should have been. Day 19 15 seconds since she left. I f cked you blacked out. In the bathroom Only when when we went to dinner too much sunlight come through did I come to. I looked for your parents her, but there was already a box full of my stars at the table at her door. They weren’t shining any longer, weren’t even worth taking back you wonder why I’m bitter . My insides, void of any glow; bragging to your friends it felt like someone had shot I nine suns down get off all over again and snuffed out all the light when you hit it in the world. I hate to tell the truth but Peeking through the frosted I’m sorry windows, I could barely make out another figure giving her their box of stars. dude you didn’t My heart swelled with I hate that I let this yearning, drag on confusion, and jealousy all at once. so long I wish it had burst so now I hate myself I wasn’t subjected to the absence of my religion. I hate that I let this drag on shut up and trudged on, her house growing so long smaller and blending in with the city. you can What was a devotee to one’s goddess anyway? go to h ll