“You really are perfect, you know.”
I meet their dark gaze. “There’s no such thing, Phantom. And thank the stars for that.”
Their eyes smile. It’s minuscule, but it’s there.
I lift the covers and climb under, scooting closer to Phantom. I don’t touch them, but I’m close enough to feel their body heat. Despite all that’s happened, my body still reacts to theirs, warming and relaxing, begging me to scoot closer. But I don’t. And I won’t until I feel safe again.
We lay in silence for a while before Phantom speaks. “If I knew how, I would love you with my whole heart.”
“I know,” I say, and my chest aches. “It makes me happy to know that. It’d be an honor to be loved by you.”
Their eyes glaze over. “You mean that?”
“More than words can describe.”
“Then paint it . . . please.”
“Now?” I ask.
“There’s an easel and empty canvases right there,” they say, pointing a few feet away.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” I say as I toss off the covers.
I ask Phantom to drink water and eat microwave ramen noodles while I paint with my back to them. It takes me most of the day, and Phantom drifts in and out of sleep as they watch me, but when I’m done, their eyes crinkle at the edges as they study the image. A painting of two intertwining hands, their vibrant life forces, depicted in shimmering silver hues, flowing between the point of contact, merging and melding together, becoming one.
“Beautiful.”
“Yeah,” I agree, turning to look at Phantom. “You are.”
I feel my walls crumbling back down that evening. Phantom apologizes for everything: for meddling in my life, for lying to me about it, for locking me in my dorm room. They promise to go with me to the local hospital in the morning to get the help they need. I promise them that I’ll stay with them the entire time,never leaving their side. We fall asleep holding hands, clinging to the relationship we’re both desperately trying to save.
We’ll make it through this, I think as I fall into an easy sleep.We’ll be okay. We can fix this. Together.
30Fluke
The loudsmackof a door slamming into a wall wakes me up. I peek out through heavy lids, and find Phantom walking through the door holding two large to-go cups with a brown paper bag hanging from their wrist. They slam the door closed with their foot.
“What’s going on?” I ask, suddenly on guard. I wasn’t expecting Phantom to be up and about like this. At least not right away.
“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” they reply. “Well, at least I can make it up to you with breakfast.” They toss me the bag. I look in and find it full of blueberry muffins. My favorite. Then they hand me one of the cups. “You prefer Earl Grey, right?” they ask as they remove their coat.
“Yeah, thanks,” I murmur as I notice them smiling with their eyes again.Where the hell did the Phantom from yesterday go? The person who could barely lift their head off the pillow?
“Phantom? What’s going on?”
“Hmm?” they ask as they discard their cup on the bedside table without drinking from it.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Just great,” they say in a chipper tone. “In fact, Ihave a proposition for you, but first, you should eat. The muffins will go cold.”
“Do you want one?” I ask, holding one out to them.
“No thanks, I ate one on the ride back.”
I don’t know why exactly, but that feels like a lie. I’m about to ask them when my stomach growls.Later, I tell myself.After I eat.
Phantom organizes their paintbrushes and paints while I sit in bed eating. I watch them intently as they do. They never sit down, or stop moving. It reminds me of Gideon when he’s all hyped up from a sugar rush. Such a stark contrast from yesterday.
