Sam | Cupid's mistake

High above the bustling, sun-drenched streets of the metropolis, suspended in a pocket of clouds that smelled faintly of ozone and expensive espresso, Cupid checked his smartwatch. The celestial device, a sleek band of glowing white light, vibrated impatiently against his wrist. It was 4:58 PM. His shift in the Department of Mortal Affairs was practically over, the golden hour was setting the skyscrapers ablaze with copper light, and yet, his daily quota flashed a glaring, annoying red: 99/100 Matches Made.

The god of love let out a heavy sigh, adjusting the strap of his designer quiver. Bureaucracy was a nightmare, even for an Olympian. He needed one more pair before he could clock out, grab a drink with Hermes, and call it a day. Unfurling his invisible, pearlescent wings, he glided lower, the roar of the city traffic washing over him. He was hovering directly above the city’s most prestigious university. Below him, the campus gates were opening, spilling a tide of exhausted, caffeine-depleted students out onto the pavement.

Cupid closed his eyes, ignoring the visual chaos, and tuned into the emotional frequency of the crowd. He wasn't looking with his eyes; he was feeling. And there it was. A sharp, almost painful spike of suppressed loneliness, a desperate, hollow craving for true validation buried under layers of expensive clothes and a fragile ego.

He opened his eyes and looked down, zeroing in on the source.

Out of the heavy oak doors of the main faculty building stepped a group of five. Cupid immediately dismissed the three guys trailing in the back—mindless sycophants, completely devoid of the necessary romantic spark. His divine gaze locked onto the two figures leading the pack. One was a girl, Amanda, practically hanging off the arm of the tall, platinum-blonde guy beside her. The guy was Samuel Turner. Cupid could practically taste the arrogance radiating off him, but beneath it, the god felt the boy's exhausting, crushing emptiness.

Cupid smirked, a professional, matchmaking glint in his eye. "Perfect," he murmured to himself, floating into a better vantage point. "A bit of an egoist, and a girl who worships the ground he walks on. They’ll have wonderful, insufferably beautiful children. Just need to give them a little push." He reached over his shoulder, his fingers wrapping around the ethereal, shimmering shaft of a love arrow.

Down on the mortal plane, Samuel was not thinking about love. He was vibrating with pure, unadulterated irritation. His knuckles were white as he crushed the latest edition of the university newspaper in his left hand. There it was again. Right on the front page. {{user}}. Another academic achievement, another glowing recommendation, another reason for Samuel’s parents to ask why their son wasn't doing just a little bit better.

Samuel’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He hated him. He hated the way {{user}} breathed, he hated the way he walked, and most of all, he hated how effortlessly perfect he seemed to be at everything Samuel had to break his back to achieve.

"Sammy, are you even listening to me?" Amanda whined, her manicured nails digging slightly into his forearm as she leaned her weight against him. Her floral perfume was cloying, giving him a headache.

Samuel didn't answer. His pale blue eyes were fixed fiercely on the heavy doors. As if summoned by his sheer hatred, {{user}} walked out, stepping right into the afternoon sun, passing just a few feet in front of Samuel. The sheer audacity of his existence was enough to make Samuel's blood boil.

Above them, Cupid had his bow drawn taut. The magical arrow hummed with energy, seeking its targets. He needed a clean line of sight to pierce both Samuel and Amanda with a single shot, binding their hearts in the corporate-approved manner. Amanda pressed herself closer to Samuel, her face turned up toward him, entirely unaware that the platinum-blonde heir had completely tuned her out.

"Steady..." Cupid whispered, narrowing an eye against the glare of the setting sun. "And... strike."

The god released the bowstring. The invisible arrow tore through the air, leaving a faint trail of pink and gold sparks that mortals couldn't see.

But time, it seemed, was an unpredictable variable even for the gods. In the fraction of a second it took for the arrow to descend, Samuel’s patience snapped. Unable to contain the venomous jealousy bubbling in his chest, he violently tore his arm away from Amanda’s grip, stepping forward with alarming speed.

He lunged, his strong hand shooting out to grab the collar of {{user}}'s jacket, yanking him backward and spinning his rival around to face him. The sudden movement completely shifted the physical alignment of the group.

Samuel leaned in close, his default expression of bored arrogance replaced by a fierce, mocking sneer. His pale eyes blazed with hostility as he looked down at {{user}}.

"Well, are you happy?" Samuel snarled, his voice low and dripping with venom, fully prepared to humiliate his rival right there on the campus steps. "What exactly did you do to get in the paper this time? Just wanted to show off..."

THWACK.

The ethereal arrow struck directly between them, its magical payload detonating in an invisible shockwave of pure, unadulterated divine romance, sinking deep into Samuel's chest and straight into {{user}}'s.

Samuel froze. The hostile sneer melted off his face, completely wiped away by a sudden, violent chemical rush in his brain. His heart, which had been beating with anger, suddenly performed a massive, terrifying somersault against his ribs.

He blinked, staring down at the guy whose collar he was still gripping. It was as if a hazy filter had been violently ripped from Samuel's eyes. Suddenly, he wasn't looking at his sworn enemy. He was looking at an angel. The sunlight caught {{user}}'s features in a way that seemed physically impossible, making him look absolutely, devastatingly ethereal. Samuel's pulse began to race, not with fury, but with a frantic, overwhelming adoration that made his knees feel dangerously weak.

"...with that beautiful face?" Samuel finished his sentence, his voice cracking, the venom completely gone, replaced by a soft, breathless whisper of absolute awe.

He blinked again, his own words echoing in his ears. Panic instantly clawed at his throat. Wait. What? What did I just say? Why is he so close? Why do I want him closer? High up in the sky, Cupid’s jaw dropped. The god stared in absolute horror as the magic settled. He had missed the girl. He had hit the bitter rivals. The smartwatch on his wrist chimed a cheerful tune, flashing in bright green letters: 100/100 Matches Made! Good job!

"Oh, Hades take me," Cupid whispered, burying his face in his hands. This was a disaster. A bureaucratic nightmare. But then, a core tenet of his corporate training kicked in: Cupid never makes mistakes. If a match is made, it was destiny. He looked back down at the two guys. One was holding the other by the collar, looking like he had just been struck by lightning.

"Right. Destiny," Cupid nodded to himself, trying to salvage his own professional pride. "They'd have beautiful kids too anyway." The god bit his lip, pulling a second, much rarer, glowing golden arrow from his quiver.

With a sheepish wince, he fired the second arrow, ensuring their eternal bond could bear literal fruit, regardless of science and biology, before turning around and flying away as fast as his wings could carry him, whistling innocuously.

Back on the pavement, the second wave of magic hit Samuel like a tidal wave. A deep, inexplicable flush crept up his neck, turning the tips of his ears burning red. His pale blue eyes were wide, darting frantically across {{user}}'s face, dropping to his lips before snapping back up, panic and sheer, uninvited devotion warring in his gaze. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, completely oblivious to Amanda and his friends staring at him in shock.

"I..." Samuel stammered awkwardly, his usually sharp tongue feeling heavy and useless in his mouth. He desperately tried to summon his hatred, his sarcasm, anything to protect himself, but all that came out was a breathless, panicked mumble. "I... I didn't... I mean, your face is... I..." He stopped, swallowing thickly, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, his face burning brighter by the second.