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twenty-six

10/10

Owain

The night devolved from celebration into debauchery real fast after Barth brought the booze out. The ghosts opted to act drunk, Ted and Ryan were on their third cocktail and beer respectively, and I was left to supervise as best as I could.

“And then…” Barth said, balancing on top of a coffee table. “I pulled a gun out—”

“Thought it was a knife!” Harri said.

“Was a whip the third time you told this story,” Larri added.

“The details do change rather often,” Andrew said.

Popty let out a PING of agreement, swirling around in Ted’s personal space but making no move to actually engage beyond what had happened earlier. Every so often a tendril would reach out as if to touch before he’d reel it back in and put some distance between them.

He’d stay away for a couple minutes and then it would start again. Approach, attempt, abort.

It was both amusing and agonising to watch. I wanted Popty to be happy. I wanted him to find someone who’d see beyond the shadow. Popty was lonely.

I understood loneliness better than most people.

“Come with me,” Ryan whispered into my ear, and I jumped slightly, frowning as he tugged my hand.

“Where?”

He smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

“What about them?” I gestured to the ghosts and Ted, who was still in the middle of a cloud of Popty.

Ryan shook his head. “Ted’s okay. He stopped drinking about an hour ago, and the rest are just having fun. They can’t actually get drunk and cause trouble.”

“True.”

He grinned wider and started tugging me away from everyone. I looked over my shoulder and caught them all giving me thumbs-up and lewd smiles. I just shook my head, stumbling after him.

He stopped by the stairs leading up to his room and gripped my shoulders. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I told you, it’s a surprise. You like surprises, don’t you?” His eyes were sparkling.

“I love surprises.” I gave him an eager nod. “It just…”

“Then wait here,” he said before rushing up the stairs.

“…comes with a caveat,” I finished to myself as I stared after him.

It took him about three minutes and then he was walking back down with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

No, my heart cried, and I placed a hand over my chest.

The bag was so full the zip was bulging and the strap was digging into his shoulder. He hopped off the last step and landed right next to me, a wide smile on his face.

“Ready,” he declared, taking my hand again and pulling me toward the front door before helping me into my jacket.

I wanted to scream. But I went anyway. Because even as I broke inside I knew I’d follow him anywhere and for as long as he wanted me to.