Ren’s place had a clock on the microwave. I only spirited there to check how many hours I had left to while away. If I’d known he’d be awake, sitting up in bed in the blue light of his laptop, no way I would’ve come. But we’d already made eye contact. Even worse, he raised his eyebrows, no doubt wondering where my button-up had gone. I’d never been so embarrassed to bare a little shoulder.
“You’re still up?” I asked.
He shrugged under his sheets. “I can’t sleep at night.”
“Are you gonna be awake enough tomorrow?”
“It’s fine, I hardly ever sleep.”
“Sorry to bother you.” I looked away, though there was nothing to distract me in the empty dark of his place. “I should go.”
“Wait.”
I did, mostly because I couldn’t picture where else to be.
“Do you have anywhere—” He hesitated. “That is, I don’t know if this is even a thing for you anymore, or if you’ll take offense—”
“Fire away.”
His brow furrowed in concern. “Do you need a place to sleep?”
My mouth fell in surprise, and a little indignation. He didn’t even have a couch to offer. “You know how people say, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’?”
“I’ve said it.”
“Same, but turns out, it’s a fucking lie. So don’t worry about me. Rest while you can, I’ll try not to hate you.”
“Thanks, but I kind of can’t,” he said, guiltily. “But you could still stay here, if you want. We could—I dunno—watch something?”
I could’ve kissed him. Instead, I settled for sidling up on the mattress. He brought out the laptop again, which booted up with a heated sigh, taking its time lighting the cracked screen. Once it loaded up, he tried to give me first pick, but I insisted he return to whatever he’d been watching, because I didn’t want to impose. I couldn’t really focus, anyway. We had a big day tomorrow.
* * *
It must’ve been near dawn. With the blanket-curtain blown loose, blue light—or rather, an easing of the dark—crept into the apartment. He’d long given up trying to catch me up on the plot and characters of the dumb rom-com, letting me enjoy all the silly bits that didn’t rely on context. I’d had to get up to take care of another geist, but after that, I’d gotten comfortable, lying down on my stomach with my head propped on my elbows. He lay down on his back, listening and resting his eyes occasionally, but never drifting all the way off.
At length, he opened his eyes, fixing them on me. “Goodbye Courage isn’t what you consider famous, then?”
Even hearing the name made me taste bile. He must’ve been biding his time before bringing this subject back up, waiting for me to get comfortable. I closed my eyes to keep from seeing stage lights, but I could still recall their heat on the back of my neck, making me sweat.
“Maybe in the alt scene,” I admitted. “We weren’t mainstream or anything. And besides, it’s over. Gone, done, scattered to the fucking wind.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be. It’s not like I deserved fame and glory, or whatever. I just wasn’t good for anything else. Especially not the nine-to-five life. But there’s no way out of that except to cheat. That’s why everyone wants to be a rock star.”
He gave a curt little shake of the head. “I don’t.”
That took me aback, more than I would’ve thought. It shouldn’t have felt so insulting. I’d long accepted how embarrassing it had been, believing for so long that I could actually make it.
“Haven’t you daydreamed about it, at least? Or being an actor, or an athlete?” He made such an incredulous face that I had to backtrack even before finishing. “Even something small, practical, like opening a restaurant, or auto shop, or something?”
His voice didn’t rise, despite the force behind it, as he stared ahead, looking no more passionate than if we were discussing weekend plans. “Before I met you, I had a hard enough time trying to imagine that I’d still be alive in a couple of years.”
He snuck a glance at me for my reaction, only to be greeted with my mask. His tone was slightly brittle as he added, “So, you might want to lower the bar, and then tape it down, so we don’t trip on it.”
I knew exactly how he felt. But I couldn’t admit it. I didn’t want him to look at me and see his future.
Then the other part of what he’d said registered. “What do you mean, before you met me?”
“After you proved what’s really going on with me—it’s like, for the first time—” He gave up averting his eyes, searching my face to see if I was following his tentative realization. “I’m actually looking forward to being conscious, and wanting to stick around and see what happens next?”
I almost burst into laughter. “I can’t remember how that feels.”
His dark eyes were warm, both grateful that I understood, and sorry that I did.
“So you don’t want to die?” I asked.
He waved a noncommittal hand. “I could wait. I did already, once. Too bad I can’t remember it. I was literally born dead. Not breathing, no heartbeat, cold to the touch. It took twenty-eight minutes before they got me to take my first breath. I shouldn’t have made it.”
“Me neither,” I said. “I nearly got aborted. Kind of wish I did, sometimes. But… I’m glad you’re here.”
“You, too.” His eyes widened. “I mean…”
I waved him off. “Take it from me, you don’t wanna rush into it.”
He knitted his brow, studying my face. “You don’t seem so bad off, though.”
“It’s not that bad.” I didn’t mean it as a lie, but it felt as heavy on my tongue. “It’s not what I imagined, either.”
“What were you picturing?”
“Nothing at all,” I said. “No dreams, just void.”
“You mean my life?”
We both laughed.
“After this, you really ought to get one of those,” I said.
He nodded, with his eyes closed. “I’ll try.”
I’d hardly noticed that by this time, we were lying side by side, facing each other. It made it easier for me to bolt upright. Slants of orange glowed through the gaps around the curtain. My wake wouldn’t be for another couple of hours, but I still needed to prepare. We both did.
“Is it time?” he asked. “It’s still early.”
“I wanted to scope the place out,” I said.
It would be too early for that. I had another stop in mind first, something I wanted to try before possibly crossing over.
“I’ll meet back up with you before it starts.”
For once, I didn’t want to take off without saying something. That’s what I usually did, whenever I stayed the night with someone. After I’d done things with them that weren’t possible between me and Ren.
At some point, my shirt had reappeared, as if I’d never taken it off. It would be the first time I’d left anyone’s place more clothed than when I’d arrived.
“Thanks for having me,” I said.
His smile made my stomach flutter. “Anytime.”
I wondered if he really meant that.