“Okay,” I reply lamely, my mind still reeling as they toss the handle over their shoulder.
With that, Phantom turns on their heel and starts walking in the direction of the dorms.
Silence consumes us once more.
I’m itching to say something, to start up a conversation, but I can’t think of anything clever or witty to say. So, instead, I settle for the truth. “I found my favorite painting of yours on my first day here.”
“Hmm?” they ask distractedly, as if they hadn’t fully registered what I’d said.
I must have drawn them out of a deep thought.
“The bird,” I explain. “On the side of the Monet building.”
“Ah, right.”
I hesitate, but only for a beat. “I’m sorry if you hate questions like this, but I have to ask. What were you trying to convey with that particular piece?” I cringe again at the wondrous lilt in my voice. If I don’t get myself under control soon, they’re going to think I’m a raging fangirl––even if I am.
“Oh, for that one?” Phantom considers for a moment, gaze lifting to the sky. “If I had to describe it with one word, I guess it’d be exhaustion.”
I fist pump the air before I even realize I’d done it. Phantom stops mid-stride and stares at me, eyes wide and questioning.
“Oh my—sorry.” I flush crimson beneath the face paint. “I was just, uh, happy I got close.”
Phantom smiles with their eyes again and continues walking. I’m grateful that I haven’t embarrassed myself beyond redemption as they ask, “What do you feel when you see it?”
I begin to feel dizzy. “It reminds me of how burnout feels.”
Phantom nods slowly but doesn’t answer.
Glancing sidelong at them, I study their profile. Long straight nose, defined jaw, high cheekbones peeking out over the mask, all illuminated by silver moonlight.
They’re breathtaking, I realize with a sudden clarity that makes my stomach hurt.
“So, I know Phantom is your pseudonym, but what’s your real name?” I ask, as I force my attention back to the path before us.
Phantom remains silent, their gaze locked ahead.
Maybe they didn’t hear me.
I’m about to repeat the question when I hear them murmur something under their breath. It sounds a lot like ‘quiet’ to me and, like a reflex, my mouth snaps shut.
When we approach my dorm a few minutes later, I’m horribly, unbearably racked with guilt.
Tripping over my words, I say, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
Phantom looks at me, brows pinched in confusion. “You didn’t.”
“Oh.”Now, I’m confused.
Phantom sets the canvas bag against the concrete wall behind me and starts to turn away.
“Wait,” I call, and miraculously, they pause. “When can we hang out again?”
They shake their head back and forth quickly. The gesture looks different than a denial, more like they’re trying to shake away an intrusive thought.
“I mean—I’m being presumptuous. Of course you wouldn’t want to hang out with—”
Their gaze claims mine, silencing me in an instant. “Tomorrow night.”
