Beloved

My beloved is a planet-devouring cloud of nanobots the size of Jupiter. An endless nightmare of black nothingness. An opening maw to the abyss.

This shouldn't come as a shock. You don't start dating someone who calls themselves Destroyer of Worlds and Rightful Heir to the Oblivion and expect a white picket fence.

My beloved sits on the edge of the bed, their back to me. They're sulking. Rivulets of dark mass run down their approximation of a human form, pooling on the fuzzy carpet I bought at IKEA last week. I wonder if their return policy includes items unraveled by the void.

"I told you this would happen," I say and try not to sound too pleased with myself. I love being right. I pull a cigarette from the packet on the nightstand. At the click of the lighter, they turn around. Their eyes are burning with the intensity of a thousand stars. It's enough to drive someone straight into an existential crisis. My heart flutters like a schoolgirl's.

The bulk of my beloved's body floats somewhere around the orbit of Saturn, blacking out the vastness of the universe behind them. A few months ago, they were only a tiny dark spot, barely visible to Earth's best telescopes. Tomorrow, a plucky team of heroes and scientists and government officials will shoot a rocket straight into my beloved's heart.

As far as whirlwind romances go, this one was never meant to last, I suppose.

"The hunger will not be denied," my beloved says and their voice is the shifting of a thousand planes of existence.

The cool night air from the open window leaves goosebumps on my skin. I take a drag on my cigarette. "Don't feel too bad about it. Humans love to overcome their differences when faced with an alien threat. It's in our nature."

"I am not a threat."

"You're an inevitability. I know, I know." I shouldn't tease but I can't help myself. My beloved's irritation pools around my bed in pitch black pits. I run my hand along the length of their arm and the stardust of a hundred ruined worlds clings to my fingertips. "You could stay here, you know."

A pause. Hesitation from someone who has never hesitated before. "With you?"

"You won't be the last thing coming from the void to take over our home," I say. "Just imagine how much easier it would be next time with a planet-eating cloud of nanobots to protect us."

A girl can dream, can she not?

I look at the clock on the nightstand. Twelve hours until launch. I pull my beloved back to bed, back to me. They don't have to decide right away, I think, as they pluck the cigarette from my fingers and turn it to ash, to dust, to nothingness. No need to rush, as I let them devour me, in our own way.

There's still plenty of time.