The warning had festered in Mann's mind for days. Cassette's best friend Lila had cornered her at a diner with her voice cutting like broken glass: "He's too intense, Cass. You need to get out." Mann had heard from the booth behind, his coffee rattling in his grip, the spoon banging too loudly against the cup. Lila's eyes had shot towards him, narrow with suspicion, and he had smiled--thin, tight, a mask--while aching for the blade hidden in his coat. "She's a scratch on your tape, Cassette," he thought, watching her hug Lila goodbye, her shoulders tense. That night, he decided: Lila's voice would fade.
He lured her to the bridge at dusk, the sky a smear of purple and ash, the river below churning black and restless. A text from a burner phone--"Cass needs you, meet me here"--and Lila came, her boots clicking on the wooden slats, her breath fogging in the chill. Mann waited in the shadow of the railing, his coat billowing in the wind, hands steady around the rope he coiled earlier, rough hemp digging into his palms. "Where's Cass?" Lila asked, voice clipped, and he stepped into the light with a soft disarming smile. "She's safe, Lila. Safer without you."
She frowned, stepping back, but he was quicker. He lunged, throwing the rope around her neck in one clean motion, the fibers rasping against her skin as he pulled tight. Her arms shot upwards, nails clawing at the noose, the gasp a wheeze of choking as he dragged her towards the edge. The howling wind drowned her fractured cries, and he pressed against her, chest to back, lips against her ear: "You scratched her song, Lila. I'm fixing it." Her heels scrambled against planks, kicking wildly, and then he tightened the rope, and he felt her pulse begin to stutter beneath it, felt her throat convulse as air fled her.
He would not finish her off quickly; he wanted her to feel every bit of it as the fade and the silence began to click over her mind like a tape winding down. The pop of her eyes, the blue veins against the glowing pallor of her skin, he tilted his head to see light leaving her pupils while her fighting began to dim to twitches. Then, he lifted her with a grunt over the railing, the rope still held tightly in his hands. She hung for a moment like a puppet on a string, with her body kicking below to the bellowing river. He let her go, and she fell, her scream swallowed abruptly into the black maw of the water, bubbles bursting like static, her hair a dark ribbon unravelling in the current. The splash was soft and conclusive, and Mann leaned over, gasping, the wind whipping away the blood scent from his hands damning with her own scratches. "She was an off-note, Cassette. I drowned her, so you would play on in unison," he said. "My love is a tide to your peace."
He lingered, watching the river settle until the ripples finally disappeared into the glassy surface. He traced the rope burns on his palm, a lover's badge, and smiled, the darkness in him humming. The way back was too quiet, and his boots stuck with wet earth, his mind already on Cassette—her warmth, her skin, and the way she'd sigh against him tonight.
When he entered through her apartment door, locking it behind him, she was lounging on the couch, cocooned in the blankets, her dark hair fanned over the cushion, ink in a waterway. The TV illuminated the room with the incessant flicker of an old movie. Eyes only half-closed, she was drowsy. Throwing off his coat, still holding even the faintest damp traces of river water, he knelt beside her, his hands playfully hovering over her face just long enough to brush a stray piece of hair from her cheek. "My Cassette," he murmured. She stirred, blinking up at him, her smile half-sleepy, all trust. "You're late," she mumbled, and he pressed his lips to her forehead, to her nose, to her mouth—softly at first, then more passionately, his tongue mingling with hers, tasting tea and her.
She pulled him up onto the couch, blankets tangled around her as she straddled his lap, slipping her hands under his shirt, nails gliding against his chest. "You're cold," she whispered, and he grinned, pulling her in closer, fingers digging into her hips. "Warm me, then." Her shirt inched up, revealing her stomach, and he pressed his mouth against it, kissing the smooth skin, letting his teeth graze her ribs as she arched, a hitch in her breath. "You're my echo, Cassette," he growled, his hands sliding higher, squeezing her breasts, thumbs rubbing that sensitive peak just before she gasped, her fingers curling in his hair.
He spun her beneath him on the couch, creaking as he took off his shirt and let her see faint red marks left by Lila's nails—war wounds he bore like medals. She said nothing, just pulled him down, legs locked around him tight, the heat of her body burning through their clothes. "Mann," she groaned, a song, pure and unbroken, while he tugged down her pants, trailing kisses after the slide of fabric, his tongue tasting her thighs, her center—slow, purposeful, overwhelming like a drug, flooding him with power. She writhed, fingernails digging into his shoulders, and he rose and took her fully, slamming, slick with sweat, and desperate for each other. His hands pinned hers to the wall above her head, intertwining their fingers, and he moved with her, harder, in a possessive lullaby he drank in from her cries. "No one will make us out of tune," he panted against her neck, biting the pulse there, and she twitched, trembling out her release, pooling with his, breaths twined in a ragged liturgy.
After, he held her—the hollow of her head resting on his chest and her fingers tracing the scratches she didn't question. The river's echo still roamed in his mind—Lila's bubbles, her silence. He kissed Cassette's hair, inhaling the smell of lavender blended with her scent, his arm tightening around her waist. "You're mine, Cassette," he whispered, voice humming low, and she sighed deeper, snuggling in contentment, utterly oblivious to the blood washed from his hands, to the crack he had smoothed from her reel. The darkness purred, sated, as he sat, watching her drift into slumber, his love a tide that drowned out all except her.