Ren would usually be working around this time, in the wee hours of the morning, around three or four o’clock. I half-expected to find myself on the side of a busy road, ready to wait on the sidewalk for hours until he headed home, if that’s what I had to do.
Maybe he wouldn’t even want to talk to me. Not that I’d blame him, after the way I’d taken off. I only had one way to find out.
Rather than the glare of streetlamps and headlights and distant roar of cars, I found myself wrapped in the quiet blue of a cemetery at night. Around me, dark like ink stains against the white snow, familiar headstones rose. One of them especially familiar.
My grave had a visitor kneeling on the pale ground. That had to be cold, even with a new jacket over his old hoodie. My heart perked up so hard and fast, it hurt. I took a play at breath and pretended to lean on the headstone, like my limbs weren’t trembling.
“Hey, boo.”
For once, he jumped. His face shook me right back, though I knew it already—all but woke up to it every day, not so long ago. But as he gazed up at me, I still took him in as if for the first time, or the last. His hair had grown longer, falling right back into place despite his slightly frantic efforts to push it back.
“In the flesh,” I said. “Or, well, not.”
He wanted to see me, after all. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here.
“Come here often?” I asked.
He blinked hard, not enough to hide the glimmer in his eyes. That’s when I finally noticed what he gripped in his hands, glowing bright and gold as candles. Sunflowers.
My eyes pricked with tears.
His voice wavered, rough at the edges. “Well, up till today, I had no way of knowing if you were as dead to me as the rest of the world. You couldn’t have at least checked in? Not even a call? Or a fucking text from an unknown number or something, like in a dumb horror movie? Anything to let me know you weren’t gone for good?”
I bit my lip, but I didn’t look away. The words came up easier than I would’ve thought, despite the lump in my throat. “I shouldn’t have disappeared on you.”
He didn’t say anything. He’d been ready to stay mad, not expecting an actual apology. I gave him a moment. His face lit briefly as he sparked up a cigarette. I wanted to ask if we could share, though I might have lost that privilege.
“Just don’t do it again,” he said. “At least, not without leaving a forwarding address.”
“You know where to find me now.”
I settled across from him on the snow, my bare feet chilly as usual, but nowhere near as freezing as they should be. His breath showed in the air between drags. I envied it.
“How’s the weather?” I asked.
“It sucks.” He shrugged. “You’re probably better off.”
I didn’t answer that.
He took a swig from a bottle, my brand of whiskey. After all this time, it might not have been the same bottle. Still, I had to ask.
“Is that mine?”
At last, he cracked a hint of a smile. “You owe me.”
He reached and rested his hand over mine. I sighed, my limbs going warm and loose from the nicotine and alcohol. We both leaned back against my headstone.
“So, I took your advice,” he said, like an admission of guilt. “I tried to see other people.”
“Same here,” I said. “How’s that going for you?”
He laughed, holding up the bottle in a toast. “Nowhere fast.”
My head swam as he took a big swig. I found myself sinking into his shoulder. He tried his best to curl his arm around me.
“I could’ve gotten somewhere,” I admitted.
My skin simmered with secondhand jealousy.
“You mean with that handsome ghost?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We called it off. Nobody is looking to get married and have kids here, or, you know, just live together. We don’t have lives to share.”
I kept my voice steady and my face still, yet he stared at me as if I’d wavered, let something slip.
“Is that something you wanted?” His voice went soft, trying to deliver the blow as gently as he could. “I didn’t think you were the type to settle down.”
“Me neither. But I didn’t get the chance to find out for sure.” I blinked hard, but I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. “Maybe you would have been the exception.”
At least this time, there weren’t any coffee pots to shatter, though the whiskey bottle might’ve been in peril. For once, my wrists didn’t chafe. Perhaps his shared drunkenness softened the blow. Or his touch anchored me more firmly than usual, more tangible, like the veil between worlds had thinned around us.
Through our touch, I felt his chest cave in, aching on my behalf. As if it wasn’t obvious enough from the way he looked at me.
“It feels like it’s not enough to say I’m sorry,” he said. “Or that it’s not fair, and I hate this, it sucks so fucking bad.”
My little laugh sounded wet, sniffly and gross. “You’re telling me.”
“I want to do so much more than bring you flowers and pour one out for you.”
“Don’t you ever pour one out for me,” I said. “Just give me a toast and enjoy.”
“What else?” he asked. “Is there anything else I could do to make it better?”
I shouldn’t have looked down at his lips. He noticed.
“Well, it might take a while for me to forgive you,” he said. “Not to mention, we both just got out of relationships. And we’ve been drinking. This would be absolutely terrible timing, but if I wait any longer, you might just fucking disappear again.”
“I mean, the ideal timing would’ve been before I died. At this point, it’s so hopeless, it doesn’t make much difference.”
“Fuck it,” he said. The warmth of his words bloomed inside me, even before leaving his mouth. “I love you.”
I bit my lip, unable to resist. “You shouldn’t.”
He laughed. “You told me to live a little, and this is how I want to do it. If it’s a mistake, I’ll learn. And if not, I’ll never know unless I take the risk.”
Maybe we’d never get over each other unless we found out just how far we could go. If it turned out to be awkward and sad, then we could hopefully laugh it off and stay friends. Or it could be a night we’d never forget. He could tell future drinking buddies about the time he fucked a ghost.
“All right, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
We both leaned in, our lips wisping together. I thought we’d go faster, harder, making up for lost time. But he pressed in so soft and slow it ached, deep in my chest, like thumbing a bruise. It must’ve been his longing for me, sharp as hunger pangs. His mouth pulsed against mine as if with his heartbeat.
He pulled back just enough to press our brows together. My head went light, not only from the whiskey. The warmth filling me all the way down to my toes radiated straight from him.
“Come home,” he said.
Since he’d been drinking, we had to take the bus. I made a game of having to wait that much longer, nipping at his ears and neck, making his breath catch and his hands clench.
He kept my flowers in his lap.
* * *
When we got to the apartment, I gaped, too surprised to make a sound. Our mattress no longer sprawled on the floor, but lay elevated on a proper bed frame. It even had a nightstand next to it, somewhat flimsy and scratched up, but still real furniture. In the corner of the kitchen stood a small table with sides that folded over for space. None of it matched, like it had been thrifted, or brought in from a curb, same as all my stuff in life. But not a bad start.
“What do you think?” asked Ren.
It embarrassed the hell out of me to be tearing up again already.
“You just need some lights,” I said. “And some pictures to put on the wall, and a plant or two, and then it’ll be perfect.”
“I’m almost there,” he said, pointing me toward the window. The new curtains had been pulled back to reveal a tiny cactus. I had to cover my face.
“Thanks for the geist control, by the way,” he said, because of course he’d figured it out. “I couldn’t have done any of this if it weren’t for you.”
I didn’t expect to blush. “Don’t mention it.”
He put on the last show we’d been watching together, the very next episode, like he’d been waiting for me rather than watch it on his own. Then he went to the bathroom.
I sat down on the tall new bed, which felt off somehow. It was too high. I’d been missing him the wrong way, still picturing us on the floor.
“This is weird,” I said, when he came back.
He leaned down, brushing his thumbs on either side of my face. “You’ll get used to it.”
I leaned up to meet his lips. He pressed closer, his legs going through my knees, until I opened them.
At first, we went slow, like nervous teens, getting used to the strange new feel of each other. His hands were tentative, afraid of pushing boundaries—not the personal kind. Soon enough, that tingling in the vague shape of gentle and curious fingers made me quiver and writhe, like being grabbed in the dark. It felt as if he were the ghost, like I was being rubbed up on by shadows, getting bumped in the night. Or that was how I made him feel, reflected back at me.
But we both ached for actual friction. Trying to grind my hips as I straddled him felt more like teasing than relief.
I didn’t have the patience to taunt him button by button, so I whipped my shirt over my head. He did the same. We laughed as we each got trapped in my skirt and his jeans, respectively, and had to do an undignified little dance to get them off, falling over each other. I could only pull myself up so far up for a good look at him, not wanting any more distance.
“So, how are we going to do this?” he asked.
His trembling ran through me, nervous and elated, shared shivers hot and cold down my spine.
“We’ve got our own hands,” I said.
He gulped. My stomach jumped with his apprehension. “I’ve thought about that. But what if it’s less sexy and more… fucking mortifying?”
“No way.” I bent down for a kiss. “I’ve got you.”
His smile spread warm through my chest. I leaned back again, for a better view.
“Put your fingers right here.”
I brushed my fingers over my lips. He did the same, tracing his mouth for me.
“Now both hands.”
I ran my hands through my hair. He did the same. I couldn’t help reaching out, his hair moving under my touch, as if I were a breeze. He closed his eyes, leaning into it. Then he reached for me in turn, running his hands over my chest. I used my own to try giving him a show, even though I didn’t have much to work with, but from the heat coursing through us, he didn’t mind at all.
“All right, are you ready?” I braced one hand by his head, through the pillow. I let the other slip between my legs. He followed suit, maybe picking up on my own shamelessness at last as our bodies overlapped.
Our eyes met, and suddenly, we were laughing in relief. His blush bloomed over my cheeks and down my shoulders.
“How do I feel?” I asked.
He needed a moment, staring up at me in a daze, answering the same. “It’s just like a dream.” I tried my best to pinch him with my free hand, and it must’ve worked, because he protested with a laugh. “I don’t need any more convincing.”
He looked so alive, now, his skin no longer pale, but flushed and glowing, lips red and swollen from biting, breath coming hard and fast. His other hand reached up, fingers splayed along my jaw and under my ear, keeping our gaze steady through our rocking and pitching.
I couldn’t tell which of us finished first, but it sent us both over the edge. We stared at each other in disbelief for a moment, before laughing again, a bit embarrassed after all. We’d been friends longer than lovers, and after all the fanfare, we weren’t used to seeing each other naked.
We curled up together, with the laptop still playing in the background, and it felt exactly like old times, aside from the lack of clothes. I laid my head as close as I could to his chest, and he tried to run his fingers through my hair, though it didn’t work so well the other way around. At least I could hear his heartbeat.
Suddenly, my stomach cinched up with anxiety, not mine.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He tried to laugh it off. “You plan to leave your number?”
“I can’t.” I did my best to nuzzle his neck. “But I’ll stay to watch you make breakfast.”
Something squeezed in his chest, as if he were doing in his soul what he couldn’t do with his arms, trying to hold me closer.