“This is me,” Phantom says with a jerk of their thumb toward the door. My heartbeat pounds in my throat as they push the door open, revealing a large room with exposed brick, tall ceilings, and aluminum piping overhead. The room itself is packed to the gills. An entire wall is covered in shelves upon shelves of painting supplies. Another is home to an explosion of graffiti designs with at least a hundred finished canvases leaning in large piles against it. Easels and stools are scattered about haphazardly, and a solitarybed sits in the far corner beneath a sheer, black canopy—the shiny, velvet comforter a striking crimson red.
But then my gaze snags on the smaller details: long strips of flashing, technicolor LED lights bordering the ceiling and strings of green, plastic vines hanging from hooks around the room; the same exact ones I have hanging in my room back home. I notice a large neon sign hanging above the small kitchenette, the phrase ‘good vibes only’ glowing in psychedelic red and yellow hues.
After taking it all in, the room seems like an ideal space for Phantom. The contrast between this room and their muted online persona is unbelievable. This really must be where Phantom feels safest. A space safe enough to be unapologetically themself.
“It’s amazing,” I say as I walk through the doorway.
When I get to the center of the room, I throw my arms out wide and spin in a circle. My gaze lands on the wall of graffiti and I rush toward it. My eyes rove over so many designs and colors that my mind can barely keep up. There are lots of illustrations of ghosts and unique abstract designs, but my attention is ensnared by the small, somber images peppered throughout: a small girl with sad eyes dressed in a hospital gown, a man’s face crossed out with a big black X, and a woman with speech bubbles next to her full of censored dialogue. None of it makes sense to me, but I imagine the emotions these images evoke have something to do with why Phantom ended up living here, separated from the rest of the town, all alone.
“I still add it to sometimes,” Phantom says as they walk up beside me.
My gaze sweeps over the wall. “But there’s no more room. It’s completely covered.”
Phantom chuckles. “I just paint over it.”
“I love that,” I whisper. “An ever-evolving mural.”
Phantom’s eyes sparkle at me. “Exactly.”
“I’ve never done that,” I admit. “Never painted over a painting before.”
Phantom nods before turning their gaze to the wall. “Life’s always changing. Why shouldn’t art?”
My breath catches in my throat. I’ve never considered that before.
I look to the wall again, and suddenly, I can see the places where Phantom did it, where they painted over an area that was ready for a change. Is it that easy? Can you just paint over something you’ve worked so hard to make, with something new, something better?
I don’t even realize that Phantom’s walked away until I hear a somber tune filling the room. I turn to see it’s coming from a record player in the corner. I don’t recognize the song, but the melody is soft and melancholy.
Phantom notices my confused expression as I approach them. “What? Did you expect me to like screamo or something?”
“Maybe not screamo, but perhaps something a little bit darker and more mysterious,” I admit as I finger through their collection of finished canvases. Landscapes, portraits, abstracts, still lifes––hundreds of paintings. My eyes eat them up like I’ve been starved for them my entire life.
I’m about to move to the next pile when Phantom takes my hand again, pulling me into an embrace. Their arms wrap around my waist as they begin to sway to the rhythm of the music. At their touch, warmth coils in my lower abdomen and I lean into their movement, snaking my arms around their neck and letting them lead me wherever they please. Phantom begins to rotate us in circles and the world behind them dissolves into a heavenly swirl of bright colors.
“You don’t go to Lizbeth, do you?” I ask quietly.
“No,” Phantom confirms. “Does that bother you?”
I look up at them. “Not at all.”
A moment passes before I ask, “So, why do you live here instead of in an apartment or a house or—”
Phantom sighs. “That’s a long story, and it’s not a happy one, so I don’t like talking about it.” Their gaze drifts and snags on something over my shoulder, an unusual pattern I’m beginning to recognize.
“I have time,” I say, but then the melody speeds up and Phantom responds by unclasping my hands from around their neck and whipping me out in a dizzying spin, my rotations in perfect sync with the beat of the music. I laugh as our arms pull taut, my soul absolutely shining in the light of Phantom’s glow. Their eyes glisten as they tug me back in.
“You’re too good at this,” I say before a chuckle passes my lips.
Phantom leans their masked cheek against the side of mine. “Only because I have an excellent partner.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you.”
“You—”
I press my fingers against their mask, lightly pressing against their lips. “Don’t argue. Not about this,” I murmur as I meet their questioning gaze.
They nod and I drop my hand, leaning into the dance once more. After a moment, I feel Phantom’s forehead fall against the top of my shoulder. They breathe in deep, before releasing a tense breath through their nose.
