(Written while listening to this. Please, for the full experience, listen to this ("Bittersweet" by Archis) while reading.
Boy spoke to her. He opened his chest and showed her his heart. His heart was a glass jar filled 3/8 full of red liquid. This is my heart, he said. She looked. She nodded. Her body groaned like tired metal when she opened her chest. This is mine, she said. Her heart was also made of glass. The red liquid was filled to the top. He nodded, wow.
She closed her chest and clasped her hands together in front of her heart as if she were about to pray. Her fingers were interlaced with each other. The way she stood, Boy could tell she was timid about her heart. Boy reached out, and Girl flinched. He asked, Do you trust me? Girl nodded, Yes. But I don’t know why. He moved slow. He unhooked her fingers from her own fingers and took her right hand away from her left. Boy interlaced his fingers with hers. Boy held Girl’s hand.
Boy spoke with Girl. Girl laughed with Boy. They whispered together and made up stories and revealed secrets. They experienced a strange phenomena that many men and women have come to know as “Falling in Love.”
One day, Boy was on his back on a picnic blanket. The smell of grass filled the summer air. Bread and wine decorated the red plaid picnic cloth. Girl sat up next to him. She looked down into his eyes. They were carefree, loving, and revealed hints of something lasting. Something unbreakable. Girl opened his chest. She looked at his 3/8 full heart. She reached over and twisted off the lid that was tightened closed on the face of his jar. What are you doing? He asked. She shushed him. She opened her chest revealing a full glass heart. She unscrewed her heart and leaned over him slightly so that her heart was directly above his. The blood of her heart poured from her glass heart into his.
Boy was startled. What are you doing! He cried. You need your blood! She smiled. Don’t worry, she said. I have a special heart. I can never run out of blood. What? Really? Boy asked. Yes, Girl said. My heart will always be full. She smiled and told him once more: Don’t worry about me.
Boy nodded and closed his eyes. His chest felt warmer. He felt more capable of love than he had thought was possible. He felt like how he had felt when he was a kid, when his heart was full and seemingly impossible to empty—he remembered the days when he loved without caution and in generous amounts. He remembered the kind of love that people gave without the worrying that came along with it. Tears streamed from the sides of his eyes onto the picnic blanket. It was a beautiful day. The sky was bright and blue.
Girl, he said, I love you.
But Girl did not answer. Boy sat up quickly. Girl was slumped over. Boy lifted her by the shoulders. Her head hung limp. The door to her chest was hanging open, and her glass heart was empty. He looked at the ground. The picnic blanket was no longer patterned with red and white plaid; it was only red. There was blood on him. On his fingers. On his hair. And of course in his jar. He quickly screwed the top of his heart up tight to keep from spilling anymore of their blood. Then he searched in the pool of blood, and found the cap to Girl's heart. He screwed it tight over her empty jar hoping that he had saved at least a few drops.
Boy’s chest burned. Why did you do this? He asked. But sometimes boys don’t get to have all of their questions answered. Sometimes all you can do is make sure the cap to your heart is secure.