Love Story
honor.baby/lovestory
Password: iloveyou!
He was giving knight errant, organ-meat eater, Byronic hero, Haplogroup R1b. She was giving damsel in distress, pill-popper pixie dream girl, Haplogroup K. He was in his fall of Rome era. She was serving sixth and final mass extinction event realness. His face was a marble statue. Her face was an anime waifu. They scrolled into each other. If they could have, they would have blushed, pink pixels on a screen. Monkey covering eyes emoji. Anime nosebleed GIF. Henlo frend. hiiii. It was a meet-cute. They met. It was cute. Kawaii. UwU. The waifu went, pick me, and the statue did, like a tulip emoji. If their two lips had met he would have tasted seed oils, aspartame lip gloss, and apple red dye 40 on her tongue. She would have tasted creatine, raw milk, and slurs on his.
They viewed each other's bodies, disembodied, laid out still, frozen shining cold in blue light, Liquid Crystal Display. He was posting physique, gym selfies, Bruegel landscapes, oh look how wide his lats look, he's growing angel wings. Flexed, he could flap right up to the sun. She was posting thinspo, puppy-dog-filter webcam progress shots, Bosch triptychs, wow you could put a whole stained-glass window in that thigh gap, the crucifixion maybe. Through her cathedral thigh gap you could see the sky where right-winged Icarus went flying by. He was kamikaze mode, pumping iron, all Sun and Steel sending hearts <3 <3 <3 to his Saint Wilgefortis, darling, starving, holy hikikomori virgin femcel holed up in her Serial Experiments Laincore bedroom.
She was posted up, sleeping beauty GIF, a maiden in an unmade bed, posting, Just A Girlboss Building Her Empire, I'm Rotting Here.
Why? he replied.
IDK, and she did decay like a time-lapse of a rotting fox GIF. If he was there with her, a wandering knight on a white horse taking secret refuge in her convent deep in the dark forest, he would kick around the empty cans of White Monster on her floor and she would say, Welcome >_< Take a Seat Wherever.
He wanted to tell the whole World Wide Web how he felt: She's so hot I want to clean her room, rescue her, white knight defend her in comments and battle. He was in his /a/ poster arc, Why Is She So Perfect? but he'd have to play it cool, chill sigma, no simping. Alcibiades, that's me. The last samurai, I'm him. I'm literally him. I'm Ryan Gosling in Drive. I'm American Psycho. I'm Joker. I'm Taxi Driver. He'd stand above her, tall and strong. She'd stare up at him with her shining anime, no her shining animal eyes, her real eyes, realize real lies. Wondering what he was thinking. He'd stare into them and then he'd sit beside her, very close, take a breath and say, Damn Bitch, You Live Like This? like Max to Roxanne from A Goofy Movie (1995) from the meme (2016).
They would smile. There would be butterflies. She'd kiss his cheek, his real cheek, not the marble one, the pink one with the acne scars.
Copyright © 2024 by Honor Levy. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
