What really defines love? | Teen Ink

What really defines love?

December 31, 2010
By angelasunx3 GOLD, New York, New York
angelasunx3 GOLD, New York, New York
11 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Lucas was dead. We couldn’t do anything about it. The family gathered around his grave in a close circle. I could hear the loud sobs of Lucas’ mother as she held a handkerchief to her face.
“Hush hush, dear,” Lucas’ father would say, but it only brought on louder weeps from the woman. We watched as the casket was set into the grave and we each took our turn to set a flower by the stone. Lucas was my lover. I was with him the day he died.
*****
The rain is pounding on the hard pavement of the city.
“Come on, get on,” Lucas says to me in his gruff voice. The droplets of water slide off his black leather jacket as if they too could sense the danger that was to come if they remained with him any longer.
“I think we should head back,” I whisper to him.
“Don’t be scared,” he says softly, sensing my discomfort. “I’ve been driving a motorcycle all my life, nothing will happen. Trust me.”
“Fine,” I mumble. I could see my breath, an ivory wisp in the air. I sling my leg over the seat. The roar of the engine sends my heart racing as my grasp on his stomach tightens. The motorcycle plunges forward, zipping up the road, passing dozens of neon-lights in a second.
“Stop!” I cry, but the speed only increases. I can hear Lucas cursing under his breath about something, but I couldn’t hear what.
My arms are suddenly weak. My head is woozy and only the adrenaline of the ride keeps my hands clasping tightly to his stomach. We’re going to die.
“Do you love me?” he finally asks.
“Yes,” I say, startled.
“Put on my helmet. Quick.”
I unstrap the large black helmet from his head, strapping it on my own.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.” I can see the pain in his face and I wonder why.
Suddenly, the motorcycle crashes into a building. I can feel the pain searing through my body as my hands drip with the crimson-colored blood streaming down my head.
*****
“Oh, Lucas! Lucas!” the mother sobs again.
I touched the bandage on my head. I didn’t want it to heal. It was the only thing I had left that reminded me of Lucas. I walked over to his grave.
“I love you too, Lucas,” I whispered as I set the flower by his stone.



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