Love Short Story – Saviour: Part I
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“You look beautiful..!”
There, he said it. He had to, it had been days since he saw her. He instantly fell in a plan with her. She was the redemptive beauty through which he would be free again. She would be his hero, he would be saved at last. She would be his Jane, his saviour, the girl who would clinch him back from the depths of oblivion, from abyss of loneliness. He would now never feel submerged in a crowd, gasping for breath. Oh yes, he was so sure!
“I know..” said she, indifferently, and started strolling down the marble staircase. Divine arrogance. He was devastated. He, would, rather be killed than be splashed with such a frigid response. He had to admit, his saviour was behaving intolerably! He went after her, scared somewhat.
“Do you drink coffee..?”, he asked hesitantly.
“Yes..”, said she looking elsewhere.
“Will you have a coffee with me..”, he didn’t know from where this raw courage came from, maybe from the prospect of being ‘saved’.
She looked at him, probably for the first time, unruffled, yet conspicuously annoyed, looking, well, beautiful! Her eyes like pointed leaves, novel, refreshingly moist, not wet, childlike in their sparkling innocence, a little startled, yet confident and piercing. And her lips, grandly full in their curves, pleasantly red, though, a little confused as what to make of the current proceedings. The boy stood there in torpor, waiting for something warmer than the earlier avalanche.
“No..”
Oh! Only if the marble stairs would make way for the hell beneath, if ever there was any. She now made her way to the cafeteria, joining her friend who was apparently appalled by such lewd behaviour in a library – only if she knew what was at stake! The boy was obstinate enough. He rushed towards her, feeling somewhat sick, and dizzy. He could sense something precious fleeting off his soul.
“You don’t understand..” he said with forced valour, the uttering as incomprehensible to her in the context, as a contrived plot of some Christie’s novel.
Those sparkling eyes and autumn lips reflected exasperation. “I’ll come in just a minute..”, she said to her friend and signalled her to go. She was angry, the boy sensed that.
“Don’t be angry..That angry pout doesn’t look good on you..I mean not ugly – your ‘doesn’t look good’ still beats all the vain plastic beauties – but still, a smile would help edit my utterly imbecile babbling..”
“What do you want..”, her anger making way for exhaustion.
“You to have a coffee with me, if not coffee then tea, or else have some air with me, anything you agree upon..”, he chuckled a little at his quip, though she didn’t find it funny and commenced to leave, he implored again –
“Please, you have to, I’m begging you!”
“Well! That’s insane. What if I don’t want to?”
“That’s not an option..” said he, in a grave tone, as if mulling deeply over a catechism of sorts. She took a start, going away from him. He knew he would regret this next act all his life, but still his future, his whole life was at stake, if he retreated all would be lost. It would be better if he died trying, and so, he went after her, and held her hand, with considerable force, and turned her towards him.
“It’s important that you have a coffee with me, fall in love with me..”, he was close to her in every sense of the word, she looked frightened, aghast from the appalling advancement. She shrugged off his hand in a flash and slapped him with devastating strength. Few people, out of nowhere, looked amusingly drawn to the staged humiliation, the hero left, the director stood alone.
***
