Acidic Love

Saturday mornings were usually peaceful. Mirio liked to take slow strolls with Lily down the shopping district's cobblestone sidewalks, holding hands, sharing snacks, and letting her melt into his side at least once every fifteen minutes.

That day started no differently.

Lily was in her casual form—glossy, compact, lightly jiggly, and wearing a loose oversized hoodie she had soaked in cold water for comfort. Her slime hair trailed behind her in two lazy tendrils. Every so often, her hand would wrap tighter around Mirio's as they window-shopped.

They stopped at a vendor stall selling bath bombs and herbal candles. Lily, curious as ever, pressed her face—and half her upper body—flat against the display, squishing around a citrus-scented ball.

"Lily," Mirio chuckled, pulling her gently back, "remember, we're just looking today."

She pouted, then nuzzled into his side again.

That's when he heard it.

Just behind them, sitting at a bus stop, two college-age girls with iced coffees were gossiping. Loudly. One of them glanced up at Lily with a look of disgust and leaned in toward her friend.

"Ugh. That's the slime girl, right? That poor guy must have no standards."

The friend snorted. "Seriously. Like, she's not even a real person. She's a pile of goo with boobs."

Mirio froze.

Lily stopped moving.

The girls kept laughing, totally unaware that the "goo" they were mocking had sharper ears than they thought.

"She probably leaves slime on all his furniture. Can you imagine dating something that squelches?"

The other girl gagged. "I bet he has to mop her off the floor after sex."

Lily didn't say a word.

But her grip on Mirio's hand tightened. Her glow dimmed. Her body trembled—not from embarrassment, but something deeper.

He looked at her. "Lily… hey. Don't let them—"

"I'll catch up," she said, voice low and flat.

Before he could argue, she slipped free—slithering into the nearest alley like a wave of barely-held-together tension.

Mirio cursed under his breath and ran after her, weaving through the crowd.

He didn't see her until he reached the park's edge, where a small city garden grew—a place he'd once told her was off-limits.

Because that's where the toxic bloom plants grew.

Engineered decades ago to repel pests, they'd been declared unsafe for handling without gloves. Most people ignored the warning signs, but not Lily. She remembered every rule Mirio had ever given her.

Except today.

She stood in the middle of the restricted bed, her hoodie discarded, tendrils wrapped around a thick vine of oily purple flowers. Her body shimmered as she absorbed the plant into her form, one petal at a time.

Her color changed.

From soft blue to dark violet.

Her translucent form now fizzed with visible bubbles. Her tentacle-hair floated up and sharpened. Her chest inflated slightly, pressing against her now-purple gel skin as toxic heat surged through her body.

Mirio reached the garden too late.

By then, she had already stormed back down the sidewalk—her core pulsing like an angry furnace.

People turned.

Some backed away.

She stopped in front of the same bench, where the two girls were still sitting, obliviously scrolling through their phones.

"You think I'm not real?" Lily said, her voice deeper now, with a dangerous edge.

The girls looked up—and screamed.

"W-WHAT?!"

Lily's eyes glowed. "You think I'm disgusting?"

Her arm snapped forward—splitting into a cannon-like sprayer that launched a high-pressure blast of shimmering purple water directly at the bench. It missed them by inches, hissing as it scorched the concrete.

The girls shrieked and tried to run, but Lily's hair-tentacles lashed out and wrapped around their legs, tripping them onto the grass.

"I could paralyze you in seconds," Lily hissed. "One squirt. You'd be stuck for hours. Dripping, twitching, helpless."

She raised her hand again.

People screamed. Phones came out. Someone called 911.

Mirio shoved his way through the crowd and sprinted forward.

"LILY!"

She turned slowly, her body trembling with emotion. Her glow brightened—threatening to burst.

"They called you worthless," she growled. "Said I wasn't real. Said you shouldn't love me."

"They're just bullies," he said, slowly approaching her. "They're not worth this."

"They said you have no standards. That I'm not human enough to deserve you."

"And they're wrong."

Lily's body hissed. Toxic bubbles floated off her arms and popped mid-air, releasing a faint shimmer.

Mirio placed his hands on her arms—ignoring the sting. "You're my wife. My best friend. You remember everything I say. You make cold drinks better. You sleep curled around me like a body pillow, and I love that about you."

She sniffled.

"I don't care what they think. I care about you. And right now, I care about you not turning this street into a biohazard."

Her tentacles trembled.

"I was just… so angry."

"I know."

"I wanted to scare them."

"You succeeded."

She blinked.

Then slumped.

Her form softened. The purple hue faded. The hiss died out. Her toxic shine dulled back to a gentle, wet shimmer.

She collapsed against his chest, hugging him tightly, crying soft, sticky tears into his shirt.

"I don't like being scary…"

He stroked her back. "Then be soft again."

She melted around him like a towel fresh from the fridge.

The girls on the grass crawled away.

Mirio sighed. "Let's go home."

"Can we still make out later?"

He chuckled. "Once you detox."

She kissed his cheek.

And as they walked away, the sidewalk still steaming slightly behind them, Lily whispered, "Hubby?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time someone says something bad about you…"

"Lily—"

"…I'll only mildly paralyze them."

He sighed. "Progress."