We lay in my bed, fully dressed except for our shoes, and while we make attempts to watch a movie, we get distracted by conversation, which has always come easy to us. We talk about music, film, and art. We’re both passionate about eighties movies and love listening to instrumental versions of songs. They’re all topics we’re used to, comfortable with. We don’t stray into new territory. Maybe someday we will. But not tonight. I don’t want to give them a reason to get spooked and run. This is all new to Phantom; friendship, and maybe something more.
The night has long passed by the time my eyes begin to droop.
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“Maeve,” Phantom murmurs against my hair. “It’s getting late. I should go.”
I’m tucked into the crook of their arm and nuzzle deeper in protest. “You said you’d stay forever,” I remind them sleepily.
“You’re going to hold that against me for a while, aren’t you?” I can hear the smile in their voice.
“Yes,” I confirm, wrapping my arms tighter around their waist.
They go silent for a moment, softly stroking my hair. I’d long since let it down out of the ponytail.
“Iris won’t be back until the morning, right?” they finally ask as I doze, drifting in and out of consciousness.
“Mhm.”
“Then I’ll stay,” they whisper, but I’m already falling asleep.
I dream of colors, and laughter, and dancing, of the silky feel of Phantom’s mask against my skin, of the bliss of sleeping peacefully in their arms. But out of nowhere, my dream is interrupted by a strange voice whispering in a menacing tone.
“Leave me alone,” the voice commands, drifting in and out, “—almost noticed you—”
A beat of silence.
“I won’t let that happen.”
Then another.
The voice laughs, low and dark. “I’d gladly die before—”
Another beat passes.
“—only then will the world be truly better off.”
The voice jeers angrily, “I’m done being your entertainment.”
Then, like the flip of a switch, the warmth of the dream envelops me once more.
“I’ll protect you from them,” a new, kinder voice whispers. “I won’t let my demons touch you. I promise.”
When I shoot up in bed, gasping for air, the room is still dark and it’s well before dawn. It only takes a moment to realize what had me waking so startled. Phantom is sleeping fitfully beside me, their neck and arms twitching erratically, as if they’re fighting someone off in their dreams.
As I move to shake them awake, I see tear tracks on their cheeks and hear the gnashing of their teeth as they grind together. Whatever Phantom is dreaming about, it’sterrifyingthem.
“Phantom,” I say while shaking them again, more insistently this time. “Phantom. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
When they finally come crashing back to consciousness,their chest is heaving and their eyes flit around frantically, as if they fully expected the horrors to follow them out of the nightmare and into the real world.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, trying to soothe them. “It was just a nightmare. I’m here. It’s okay.”
They clutch my hand hard as I watch the fear slowly leach from their gaze, their wide-eyed blinking slowing in time with their breathing. It takes several minutes before they’re back to themself.
Why is it always pain with them?
