Daphne and Apollo: A retelling.
(Obession)
He'd never really noticed her, not really. He knew some cursory facts about her, of course: it wasn't that big a school. It was Eros who'd pointed her out; he'd said she was out of reach even for Apollo, so nothing more was said about it. But Apollo couldn't stop thinking about her. Then there was the trip to the water refinery, where her Dad worked. He'd come up and hugged her; she'd been so embarrassed. God, she was pretty when she blushed.
After that he started to smile at her in the corridor. The first time she looked shocked, glancing behind her to check it was her he was smiling at. Gradually, she'd brought herself to smile back. In those early days, he liked to think they were smile buddies. In just a few weeks, he'd memorised her repertoire of beams. They ranged from the first hesitant half quirk of her lips to the dazzling warm bolt of sunshine that she flashed his way at the end of the second week.
Soon he started to say hi. Nothing intrusive; just a hey or maybe, daringly, a 'you alright?'. He remembered the exact intonation of her first 'hi'. It was timid, almost scared, but oh so endearing. Rapidly, he progressed to conversations, asking her endless questions about her interests, her hates, her life. At first she replied, lingering for a few minutes in the corridor, but then her friends always dragged her away, saying she didn't want to talk to him. He knew better though. Knew she looked forward to their chance meetings as much as he did.
He wrote her letters; beautiful, crafted letters. The amount of paper he wasted trying to create the perfect message was immense, but he didn't care. She was worth the time. She was worth the effort. She was worth it all. He professed his love through these letters, promising her anything; jewels, clothes, the moon, if she would return his love. She never wrote back. He liked to think her feelings were too great to express in mere words. He liked to imagine her struggling to find the right words to pour out her heart to him. Well, he liked to imagine other scenarios as well, but he tried to keep his love pure. It was hard though, because she was beautiful. Oh so beautiful.
He began to see her less and less at school. He wasn't worried; he knew it was her friends, pretending to look out for her best interests, pretending that she was scared of him, but the sudden loss of her hurt him, like a knife twisting in his gut. He began to walk home the long way round, so he could pass her house. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of her. Once, he saw her dancing around her bedroom, her hairbrush her microphone. He treasured these moments, imagining telling their grandchildren their story, making them laugh at the idea of their grandparents being young.
He started to turn up at the places she was. It wasn't deliberate, he told himself. It just happened that Eros or Jason knew where she was going to be and told him. He ignored the fact that he'd threatened them until they told him. He ignored the fact that his best friends were scared of him. Her and him, they just had an inescapable bond. Proof that they should be together. It wasn't until a party that he managed to get her alone. In an empty bedroom, he told her of all his plans. Where they would live. Their children's names. About the retirement home. In his excitement, he backed her into a corner. It wasn't deliberate; he just wanted to be close to her. It was her perfume that did it. It smelt of rivers and summer flowers, and he couldn't help himself. All he did was kiss her. He thought she'd be pleased; it was their first kiss. But no, she pushed him away, sending him tumbling over a chair and she ran from the room.
Two days. It was only two days later when the restraining order was served. He was not allowed near her. His love, his north star, his anchor. He couldn't go to school in case he bumped into her.
He didn't care. That night he was going over to her house to reason with her. His twin, Artemis, begged him not to. She pleaded with him, telling him to let go of his infatuation. Well, he had to hit her. She had mocked his love. His pure, unwavering, true love. He spilt his own sister's lip and knocked her so hard she fell against the desk, her eyes closed. He left her there and ran to his darling's house. The police were waiting for him. It seemed his sister had recovered from her fall and called them. He resisted them. He fought bravely, throwing them off him, punching, kicking, anything so he could see his beloved.
"Daphne!" His scream echoed across the dark blue sky. It was terror, it was desperation, it was love. As they dragged him away, all he could see was her. She stood and watched them take him away. She let them.