Beneath the Wisteria

The wisteria hung in tangled clusters from the arbor, their purple blooms dripping like congealed blood in the pale light of the moon. Sky stood beneath them, his silhouette a sharp cut against the darkness. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, his breath misting in the chill air. He had been waiting for hours, though time had little meaning in this place.

Dew approached without sound, as he always did. He materialized from the shadows like a ghost, his footsteps muffled by the carpet of fallen petals. "You came," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the ground.

Sky didn't turn. "I always come." His voice was hollow, drained of emotion. It had been that way for months now, ever since Dew had first pulled him into this twisted dance.

Dew stopped just behind him, close enough that Sky could feel the heat radiating from his body. He reached out, his fingers grazing Sky's neck. Sky shivered but didn't pull away. "You're cold," Dew murmured.

"I'm always cold when you're near."

A soft laugh, dark and velvet. "Liar. You burn for me." Dew's hand wrapped around Sky's throat, not tight enough to choke, but enough to remind him who was in control. Sky's pulse fluttered beneath his palm like a trapped bird.

Sky closed his eyes. This was the moment he both dreaded and craved—the moment when Dew's darkness consumed him whole. He remembered the first time they had met, at a party where the wine flowed like water and everyone wore masks of happiness. Dew had found him alone on a balcony, staring at the stars. He had spoken in riddles, offering Sky a world beyond the mundane. Sky, young and naive, had accepted without knowing the price.

Now, he knew. The price was everything.

"Why do you keep coming back?" Dew asked, his lips brushing Sky's ear. "You could leave. You could forget."

"You know I can't." Sky's voice cracked. "You've made sure of that."

Dew's hand tightened, just a fraction. "I've made you exquisite. You were so plain before, so ordinary. Now you're like me—a creature of the night, feeding on your own pain."

Sky opened his eyes. The wisteria swayed in a breeze he couldn't feel. "Is that what I am? A monster?"

"A beautiful monster. My monster." Dew turned him roughly, forcing Sky to face him. Dew's eyes were dark, almost black, with a glint of something ancient and predatory. His face was all sharp angles, like a blade. "You belong to me, Sky. Body and soul."

Sky wanted to deny it, but the words died in his throat. Because it was true. From the moment Dew had kissed him, had tasted his blood in a moment of careless violence, Sky had been bound to him. It was an obsession that defied reason, a love that was more like a sickness.

"I hate you," Sky whispered.

"I know." Dew smiled, a cruel, beautiful smile. "That's what makes it perfect."

He kissed Sky then, hard and bruising. Sky's lips parted in a moan, and Dew took the invitation, his tongue sliding inside, tasting of dark wine and something metallic. Sky's hands came up, not to push away, but to grip Dew's shoulders, to hold him close. The hatred and love tangled together until Sky couldn't tell them apart.

When they broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Dew's thumb traced Sky's swollen lower lip. "You taste like regret."

"And you taste like poison."

"But you keep drinking."

Sky laughed, a bitter sound. "What else do I have?"

Dew pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. Sky buried his face in Dew's neck, inhaling the scent of rain and rot. "You have me," Dew said. "Forever."

"Forever," Sky repeated, the word heavy with dread. He knew forever with Dew was not a promise—it was a chain.

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other, the wisteria petals falling around them like tears. Sky thought about the day they had met, the day his life had ended and begun. He had been so proud, so sure of himself. Dew had broken him piece by piece, until Sky had become a mirror of Dew's own darkness.

"Do you remember the night you first hit me?" Sky asked, his voice muffled against Dew's skin.

Dew stiffened. "I remember."

"I thought it was an accident."

"It wasn't." Dew's voice was flat. "I needed to see if you would stay."

"And I did." Sky pulled back, meeting Dew's eyes. "Why?"

"Because you're a fool. Because you love me. Because you're just as broken as I am."

Sky shook his head. "No. I stayed because I wanted to understand. I wanted to find the man beneath the monster."

"There is no man," Dew said. "Only the monster. You should have learned that by now."

"Maybe I have." Sky stepped out of his embrace. "But I'm still here. So maybe I'm the bigger monster."

Dew's eyes flickered with something—surprise? Respect? "Perhaps you are."

A silence stretched between them, heavy and dark. The wisteria seemed to close in around them, the purple blooms brushing against their faces like fingers. Sky felt a sudden surge of anger, hot and wild. "You took everything from me," he said. "My friends, my family, my sanity. You isolated me, made me dependent on you. Why?"

"Because I could." Dew's tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp. "Because you were beautiful and pure, and I wanted to corrupt you. I wanted you to be as monstrous as I am."

"And am I?"

Dew studied him, his gaze tracing the lines of Sky's face, the shadows under his eyes. "Not yet. But you're close."

Sky felt a cold thrill run down his spine. "What will it take?"

Dew stepped forward, closing the distance again. He cupped Sky's face in his hands, his thumbs stroking his cheeks. "You have to kill something."

Sky's breath caught. "What?"

"Something precious. Something that you love. Only then will you be free."

"Free of what?"

"Free of the last shred of humanity that holds you back."

Sky stared at him, his heart pounding. "I don't have anything precious left. You've taken it all."

"That's not true." Dew's eyes bore into his. "You still have yourself. And that's the hardest thing to kill."

Sky couldn't breathe. The wisteria seemed to swirl around them, the purple petals darkening to black. He understood now. Dew was asking him to destroy his very soul, to become an empty vessel. And the terrible part was, he was considering it.

"If I do," Sky said slowly, "what will I become?"

"You'll become like me. A shadow. A ghost. A thing that feeds on pain."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you'll suffer forever, torn between love and hate. You'll never find peace."

Sky closed his eyes. The world seemed to tilt, and he felt as if he were falling. But Dew's hands held him steady, his grip iron. "I can't," Sky whispered. "I can't kill who I am."

"Then let me help you." Dew's voice was a serpent's hiss. "Let me in. Give me permission to destroy you completely."

Sky opened his eyes. Dew's face was inches away, his lips parted, his breath warm. "Would it hurt?"

"Yes. Terribly."

"And after?"

"After, there would be nothing. Only us."

Sky thought about it. He thought about the endless nights, the fights, the making-up, the tears and the laughter. He thought about the first time Dew had held him, gentle and tender, before the cruelty had seeped in. He thought about the way Dew looked at him, as if he were the only thing in the universe that mattered. It was a love that was all-consuming, a fire that burned everything in its path.

And Sky was tired of being burned.

"Do it," he said.

Dew smiled, a true smile, full of teeth and malice. "I knew you would say yes."

He kissed Sky again, but this time it was different. It was a kiss of annihilation. Sky felt something tear inside him, a thread that had held him together since childhood. He felt his memories, his hopes, his fears all dissolve into a sea of darkness. Dew drank them in, swallowing his essence.

When they parted, Sky was empty. He looked down at his hands, pale and still. He felt nothing. No anger, no love, no hate. Only a vast, cold calm.

"What have I become?" he asked, his voice flat.

"Perfect," Dew said.

The wisteria had stopped falling. The world was silent. Sky looked at Dew, and for the first time, he saw not a lover or a tormentor, but a reflection. They were the same. Two shadows, intertwined forever.

"Now what?" Sky asked.

"Now, we find someone new. Someone pure. Someone to break together."

Sky nodded. He didn't feel remorse or excitement. He simply felt nothing. And that, perhaps, was the greatest horror of all.

They walked away from the wisteria, hand in hand, into the night. Behind them, the flowers withered and died, blackening in the moonlight. The air smelled of decay. And somewhere, far away, a new victim waited, unknowing, for the monsters to arrive.

But Sky didn't care. He was beyond caring. He was Dew's, now and forever, and that was all that mattered.