JoJo loves gnocchi

The room went dead silent.

Your heart pounding in your chest. 

You could feel Jake’s hand against the back of your head, it was cold.

Jake looked just as shocked. His eyes were wide, staring down at the hand that had just caught you like he couldn't believe it was his own.

"A-are you..." Jake pulled his hand away so fast you almost stumbled. "Are you okay?"

You immediately took a few unsteady steps backward, putting as much distance between you and him as possible. He was a ghost. 

He wasn't supposed to be able to touch you at all.

Jake was staring blankly at his own hands. He flexed his fingers, looking completely lost.

“You... you felt that too, right?" he whispered.

You pressed your back against the wall.

"What..." your voice shook. "What exactly are you?"

You quickly scanned the room.

"Don't move," you warned sharply.

Your eyes landed on a hair comb resting on your table. Without a second thought, you snatched it up and threw it directly at him.

"HEY—!" Jake yelled in panic. 

He crossed both of his arms over his head and squeezed his eyes shut, fully bracing for a painful hit.

SWOOSH~

The comb passed right through his chest. 

It hit nothing but thin air.

Jake slowly opened one eye. Realizing he was entirely unharmed, he dropped his arms.

Your jaw dropped.

What the hell? Didn't he literally just catch my head a minute ago?!

"L-listen, I know you're confused. But I'm confused too," Jake stammered.

"How did you die?"

Jake blinked, taken aback by the blunt question. "Huh?"

"How exactly did you die?" you repeated, your voice dropping into a much firmer tone.

Jake swallowed hard.

"I... I don't know."

Your eyebrows pulled together into a skeptical frown.

"Listen, all I know is that I opened my eyes and I was in the campus bathroom," Jake explained hastily, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know, weird, right? And gross. But I really don't know why. I don't remember anything before waking up there. I just know that suddenly, I could see them. The exact same twisted things you see, just wandering around the university."

You were simply too tired to care to try and figure out this bizarre mystery.

​"Just leave," you muttered as you rubbed your temples. "You better just go."

​Jake stopped talking. He stared at you for a moment, the faint hope in his eyes quickly dimming.

​"Okay..." he replied softly.

​You turned your head away, not wanting to deal with the situation anymore.

​After a few moments, you let out a ragged breath and turned back around, fully expecting to see him still there.

​But you stopped. 

The space where he had just been standing was completely empty.

​You blinked, glancing around the quiet bedroom. 

The air was no longer freezing. 

He was gone. 

Just like that.

When the campus finally began to empty out for the evening, you were right where you always were—sitting at your desk in the fine arts studio.

​One of your classmates stopped by your desk before packing up. 

"Are you planning to sleep here?" she asked, offering a sympathetic smile. "How's your progress coming along?"

​You sighed, looking down at the stark white paper in front of you.

"Still nothing."

​Her expression softened with pity. 

"That must be really stressful, huh?"

​You aimlessly twirled a charcoal pencil between your fingers.

"Yeah... you could say that."

​She glanced over her shoulder at her own workstation, where a half-finished stone sculpture sat under a dusty tarp, "Honestly, I feel like my piece has absolutely zero artistic value right now..."

​You nodded tiredly.

"Well, at least you have an actual piece. That's a lot better than a blank page."

​She gave your shoulder a gentle, encouraging pat. "Hang in there, okay? I'm heading out first."

​"See you," you mumbled back.

The studio fell quiet again, but it didn't last long. 

The air grew slightly cold.

​"Didn't I already tell you?" you said to the empty room. "I don't have anything, and I can't help you."

​A soft sniffle came from the corner. "Yeah... I know."

​You finally pushed yourself to look at her. You blinked, completely caught off guard. The bloody monster from yesterday was gone. Standing by the door was just a normal girl. She was actually beautiful.

​Your fingers twitched. You pressed the tip of your pencil against the blank sketchbook and stared at the paper.

​"Honestly," you murmured, the charcoal making a soft scratching sound against the paper. "For a girl as pretty as you, who was smart enough to land a scholarship... it's a massive shame you fell for a bastard professor."

She let out a bitter, sad laugh. 

"You're just making me regret my life even more, you know."

​"I'm just stating facts," you replied simply.

​The lines slowly took shape. Without even realizing it, your hands were moving on their own. You were drawing her.

A quiet silence settled between the two of you for a while.

​Eventually, your hand stopped moving across the paper. You let out a long, tired sigh and turned the sketchbook around.

​"Here," you muttered. "Look."

​The ghost stepped closer, her eyes locked on the page. A single tear slipped down her pale cheek.

​"Is... is that me?" she whispered.

​You gave a small nod.

​More tears spilled from her eyes. She stared at the sketch, her trembling, translucent fingers hovering just above the paper as if she wanted to touch it.

​"I..." her voice broke. "I even forgot what my own face looked like."

​A heartbreaking laugh escaped her lips, echoing softly in the empty studio. She looked up at you, her expression filled with fragile gratitude.

​"Thank you," she said softly. "Thank you for reminding me of the girl I used to be."

"Regardless of how you died," your voice softened as you looked at her. "You don't look like an irresponsible mother."

​You paused, letting out a small breath. "I know the fact that you were murdered is a bitter pill to swallow. But if you focus on that love—the affection you have for your child—I think you can cross over. And I'm sure you'll get to be with your daughter again."

"You're not as cold as you try to be," she said softly.

A gentle, genuine smile finally graced the ghost's face.

You immediately brushed it off, putting your walls back up. "Don't get the wrong idea," you muttered, looking away. "I just want to finish my final project in peace."

You picked up your pencil again, fully intending to get back to work.

"But..." the ghost tilted her head, asking innocently, "how come I don't see the guy who's been hanging around you?"

Your hand, which was just about to touch the sketchbook, stopped dead in its tracks.

Jake.

He had been completely missing all day.

That is exactly what I want, you thought to yourself.

"For some reason..." the ghost added, her voice thoughtful as she stared at the empty space in the room. "He doesn't feel like one of us."

You glanced back at her. So, you weren't the only one who felt it. Even an actual spirit sensed something strange and out of place about him.

"But one thing is for sure," she continued, a faint, knowing smile replacing her sad expression. "He is really into you."

You immediately let out a loud scoff, rolling your eyes so hard they almost got stuck in the back of your head.

"You don't get to talk about that kind of stuff when you were murdered by the guy you thought loved you," you shot back bluntly.

The ghost's faint smile completely vanished. She let out a loud sob, covering her face with her hands.

You groaned, regretting your lack of a filter.

"Okay, my bad," you said quickly. "I won't bring it up again, I promise. Just… please… don't cry and let me finish my project in peace."

GRRRR

The fierce wind whipped across your face. Your empty stomach had been growling for a while, serving as a harsh alarm that you needed food before you ended up collapsing on the street.

Your mind was still spinning and without realizing it, you bumped right into an older woman.

Her things spilled all over the ground.  

"I'm sorry, I wasn't watching my step." 

You immediately knelt down, gathering everything and shoving them back into the fallen bag.

"It's fine, child..." her voice was raspy and frail.

You slipped the last item inside before finally standing up and handing the bag back to her. But the exact moment you met her eyes, what is this feeling?

"Be careful in the dark, child," she murmured, taking her groceries and gently patting your shoulder. "Do not step out of the light's reach, or the darkness will swallow you whole."

She offered a thin smile before turning and walking away.

After you bought something to eat, you rushed straight back to your apartment.

You spotted a few of them on the streets, trying your hardest to look away and act normal. Some glared at you, some begged for help, while others wailed loudly. There were just too many of them, to the point where you actually found yourself thinking...

Jake... maybe having you around wasn't so bad after all...

You shook your head, immediately pushing that thought away.

You set the food you just bought on the table. Somehow, your hunger had completely vanished, replaced by an overwhelming wave of exhaustion.

You threw yourself onto the sofa, curling up into a ball.

"Ugh..." You shifted uncomfortably, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling.

I wonder... what is Jake doing right n—

"Miss me?"

You jumped so hard you nearly rolled right off the cushions. Jake was casually sitting on the other side, resting his chin in his hand with a teasing smirk.

"GOOD LORD!" you yelled, clutching your chest. "YOU ALMOST GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!"

"Ah.. you’re acting as if you didn't expect me to be right in front of you after thinking about me all day?"

You couldn't believe your ears. 

"You—"

"I don't know how it works either," he cut in, shrugging lightly. "You called my name a few times. Once this afternoon, I think? Then like thirty minutes ago, and just now. I just closed my eyes and ta-da, here I am."

His smirk grew wider. "So, did you really miss me that much?"

Your face felt like it was absolutely on fire. "No! Why would I—"

Jake slumped into the sofa, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "And to think I only left you alone for a single day..."

"Fine, I did think about you," you huffed as you crossed your arms defensively. "I was just wondering what you do when you aren't bothering me. Do you bother someone else? Because you clearly love ruining people's peace."

You tried to explain yourself, but your words were only met with Jake's face scrunching up as if he were thinking really hard.

"Honestly, so far, you're the one annoying me," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "You keep saying my name and pulling me all the way to your place, aren't you?"

You let out a harsh sigh, completely throwing in the towel on this argument.

"Whatever, I'm going to take a shower."

"Are you inviting me to shower with you now?"

You, who had been halfway out of the living room, immediately turned around.

"You..." you chuckled in disbelief. "Besides being insufferable, you're a pervert too, huh?"

"Then why did you pull me all the way over here if you're just going to take a shower the moment I arrive?" Jake shot back, raising a single eyebrow with a perfectly innocent, yet entirely teasing expression.

You truly cursed the universe right then and there.

"If you peek even a little bit, I will make sure you burn," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jake smirked, "Ooh, I'm so scared~"

You left him behind in the living room.

But for some reason, as the door clicked shut behind you, a strange sensation washed over you. Relief...?

After such a long day, it was incredibly weird. But somehow... just knowing his annoying presence was sitting right out there in your living room actually took a heavy weight off your shoulders.

The university was dead silent.

The heavy iron gates were minutes away from being padlocked, but finals week had a cruel way of stripping away any sense of time. The hallway lights were already shut off, leaving the studio drowning in shadows. The only sound was the low, steady hum of the AC.

You aggressively shoved the last of your charcoal sticks and sketchpads into your tote bag, desperate to escape the suffocating room you had practically lived in for the past six hours.

Clack!

Your pen rolled off the edge of the desk and hit the floor.

"Shit," you muttered, rubbing your tired eyes.

You crouched down, reaching into the dark gap beneath the desk, but your hand locked up inches from the pen. Just past the edge of the metal leg stood a pair of bare feet. The skin was mottled purple, coated in thick, dark blood that dripped sluggishly onto the floor.

The temperature plummeted. A violent shudder wrecked your spine, accompanied by the sudden, sickening metallic stench of fresh blood.

"My child... my daughter... why..."

A hoarse, painful wail tore through the silence.

It sounded so broken and agonizing that it churned your stomach.

Your muscles locked up, refusing to obey. You couldn't even force your fingers to close around the pen. Cold sweat beaded on your forehead, trickling down your temple as you stared blindly at the gore. You prayed to whatever deity was listening that the entity wouldn't bend down to meet your gaze.

Slowly, agonizingly, the feet shifted.

Step.

A wet squelch.

Step.

Another squelch.

The spirit dragged itself away, fading inch by inch into the dark hallway until the weeping was just a distant echo.

"Fuck this," you rasped. Snatching the pen, you scrambled up and bolted out of the studio without a backward glance.

You burst into the lobby. Unable to take another step, you bent double, hands bracing your knees as you gulped down the sterile air.

"She really is noisy, isn't she?"

The casual comment cut right through the panic.

Your head snapped up.

A guy was leaning against the wall near the exit. He looked perfectly normal, dressed in a simple hoodie and black sweatpants, arms crossed over his chest. He gave a lazy shrug, gesturing toward the dark hallway you had just run from.

You stared at him, eyebrows pulling into a deep frown. Your brain failed to process that he might be a ghost, too—he looked too solid.

He caught your stare.

His eyes widened, jaw dropping in absolute shock.

"HOLY—you can see me!" he shouted, dropping his casual pose and standing up straight.

You cleared your throat.

Forcing down the residual panic, you deliberately shifted your gaze to the glass doors. You didn't spare him a second glance as you shoved the exit open and marched into the night air.

"OH? WAIT!" you heard him yell after you, his voice echoing in the empty lobby.

The next day, you found a quiet bench on campus, enjoying the bright afternoon as you pulled out your sketchbook. Not far away, a group of students sat down, their hushed gossip easily drifting over to where you were sitting.

"Hey, did you know? A lot of people have been hearing a woman crying around campus lately," one of the girls whispered.

"Oh my god, shut up! Don't make me scared!" her friend hissed.

"I'm completely serious! People are saying it's the ghost of an art major who died because of a forced abortion."

You shook your head, tuning out the rest of the conversation. You had enough ghost drama for one lifetime. You grabbed your earphones, just about to plug them in and play some music, when a voice spoke right next to your ear.

"Crazy, right? A scary ghost is somehow more popular than a handsome guy like me."

You flinched, nearly hurling your earphones into the grass.

Your head snapped to the side.

Yep.

There he was.

"SEE?! You ignored me on purpose last night!"

He slapped a hand over his mouth, staging a mask of exaggerated disbelief.

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Keeping your eyes pinned to your sketchbook, you muttered, "I don't want to be bothered right now."

He immediately scoffed, crossing his arms defensively.

"Tch. Please. As if anyone actually wants to bother you."

"Yeah, whatever," you replied, flipping open your sketchbook.

His defensive posture slowly melted away, his shoulders dropping a little. He leaned back against the bench, letting out a soft sigh as he looked around the campus.

"Besides, I'm just lonely," he added, his voice dropping into a softer, almost frustrated tone. "I don't get it. Every other spirit around here is just... stuck. They're all trapped in their own misery and pain. There's no one I can actually talk to."

"Can you just be quiet?" you muttered, keeping your voice low so people wouldn't think you were talking to thin air. "You said you didn't want to bother me, but you won't stop yapping. I'm already being nice enough by letting you stay here."

He stared at you for a second. Then, he started nodding slowly, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated awe, acting as if you had just granted him the ultimate mercy.

"Right. It seems I owe you a great debt of gratitude, kind lady," he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

"I'm already stressed enough dealing with ghosts like you, so stop yapping. You're just making it worse," you hissed, eyes glued to the paper.

His jaw dropped in pure offense.

"Ghosts like m—okay, first of all, my name is Jake," he said, pressing a hand to his chest. "And what was that? Ghosts like me? As far as I know, none of them look nearly as attractive as I do."

You snapped your sketchbook shut and stood up. You shot Jake a quick glance before walking away, making sure no one thought you had lost your mind by glaring at empty space.

"Okay, Jake," you muttered under your breath. "Don't follow me."

You let out a long sigh of relief. The rest of the afternoon had passed in blissful silence, meaning the annoying ghost in the hoodie had actually taken the hint.

Now, you were back in the studio, supposed to be working on your final project. But instead of drawing, you were just sitting there, staring intensely at a frustratingly blank sketchbook. You were hopelessly stuck. Every single one of your friends had already made solid progress on their pieces, but you? Absolutely nothing.

And just like the days before, you had sat there trying to force an idea out of your tired brain until the sun went down, the other students packed up, and you were the only one left in the room.

"Aren't you bored, always staying in here until it's pitch black?"

The voice sent a fresh wave of irritation through you.

You slowly turned your head toward the entrance.

Standing right in the gap of the partially open door, looking far too comfortable with his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, was Jake.

You rolled your eyes so hard they ached.

"I thought I explicitly told you not to follow me," you grumbled, turning your attention back to the mocking blank page. "I have much more important things to do right now."

Jake paid no mind to your annoyance, casually phasing right through the wood. He strolled into the room, his gaze wandering around the messy studio, taking in the scattered canvases and the heavy shadows clinging to the corners.

"Important things?" he echoed, amusement lacing his tone. He stopped beside your desk, peering down at the empty white page. A teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Like what? Staring at a blank piece of paper for hours?"

You opened your mouth to snap back at him, but the words died in your throat.

SNAP!

A jarring shift in the atmosphere hit the room.

The air turned freezing in a split second, biting through your clothes. A heavy, suffocating aura settled over the studio—dense, foul, and making your stomach twist in knots.

Your grip tightened on the edge of the desk until your knuckles turned white.

Then, the sound reached your ears.

“My daughter…”

"Can you help me...?" Her hollow, bloodshot eyes were locked dead onto you now. "Why are you ignoring me...?"

Jake stepped right in front of you, shielding you with his body. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, putting himself directly between you and the weeping spirit.

"Uh... hello... miss," Jake started, his voice a little tight but surprisingly steady. "I really don't think she knows anything about that. So... maybe just talk to me instead??"

And just like that—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The shriek was deafening, sharp enough to shatter glass.

You ducked, burying your head against your knees and clamping your hands tightly over your ears, shaking uncontrollably.

The spirit thrashed wildly, sending the heavy air in the studio into a violent frenzy. "My child! My child did nothing wrong!"

Jake flinched, leaning back defensively as the aggressive energy hit him squarely in the chest.

"Oh, shit," Jake cursed. "Yeah, this is definitely not the kind of talking I meant."

He quickly glanced over his shoulder. Seeing you curled up in your chair, eyes squeezed shut and defenseless against the horrifying wail, his awkward demeanor instantly shifted into something much more serious.

"GO AWAY!!!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, still cowering. "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!!!"

But your words only poured gasoline on her rage. Her agonizing wails morphed into a guttural snarl. Without a second of hesitation, she lunged forward, her hands reaching straight for your throat.

Jake immediately threw himself into her path.

However, the furious spirit slammed into him with the force of a freight train. Jake was launched off his feet, flying backward through the air before crashing into a pile of metal easels and stacked canvases.

CRASH!!!

"Ugh... fuck," Jake hissed, slowly pushing himself up from the mess of scattered art supplies. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Right, I forgot. When you guys attack, I actually feel that shit."

He grumbled under his breath, massaging his shoulder as he glared at the furious spirit. "Well, that hurts."

You couldn't take it anymore. The fear, the deafening screams, the absolute chaos—it was all too much. Pushed to the absolute edge, you finally snapped. You pulled your hands away from your ears and forced your head up, staring right into the hollow eyes of the spirit looming over you.

"YOU HAD AN ABORTION, DIDN'T YOU?!" you screamed, your voice cracking with sheer desperation, echoing violently off the studio walls. "YOU WERE THE ONE WHO KILLED YOUR CHILD, WEREN'T YOU?!"

The words ripped through the freezing air like a gunshot.

And then... nothing.

The manic energy vibrating off the spirit vanished in a flash.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her claw-like hands hovering just inches from your face.

The terrifying rage contorting her features drained away, replaced by an eerie stillness. The deadly silence that fell over the room was almost louder than her screaming had been.

Behind her, Jake had just managed to push himself up on one knee. He froze too, his eyes darting between you and the suddenly motionless spirit, bewildered by the sudden drop in tension.

The mangled state of the spirit began to shift. Right before your eyes, the sickening purple bruises and the thick blood faded away like washed paint. The grotesque wounds knit themselves together and vanished into thin air.

She stared at you, her eyes no longer hollow, but brimming with devastation. Tears began to spill down her pale cheeks.

"Abortion...?" she whispered. Her voice trembled, stripped of its monstrous distortion. "I would never... I would never kill my own child."

Her legs gave out. She dropped heavily to her knees as heartbreaking sobs tore through her chest. She buried her face in her hands, weeping with such profound grief that it made your own chest ache.

Jake slowly pushed himself up from the floor, brushing the dust off his hoodie.

"I was murdered," she choked out. Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it echoed heavily in the silent studio.

"MURDERED?!" Jake practically yelled, his eyes bugging out of his head.

The girl nodded weakly.

"It was... one of the professors here. He got me pregnant. He swore to me he would take responsibility, and promised that we would figure it out together." Her voice broke into a bitter sob. "But it was all a lie. The moment I started showing, he married someone else. A woman from a wealthy family. And I... I was forced to let go of my scholarship because of my condition."

"Wait, wait, hold on," Jake interrupted, gesturing wildly with his hands, his nosy side taking over the somber moment. "Did your mom and dad not know about this?! Couldn't they do something? Sue his ass?!"

You glared fiercely at Jake, wanting to smack the back of his ethereal head for being so tactless, but the girl simply shook her head.

"No," she answered softly, shoulders slumping as she stared blankly at the concrete floor. "I didn't have anyone to tell. I grew up in an orphanage."

"I can't help you with any of that," you stated, leaving absolutely no room for argument. "I don't have the power or the resources to do anything about it. I'm sorry."

Without giving her a single second to reply, you snatched your sketchbook and tote bag off the desk. You aggressively shoved your things inside, threw the strap over your shoulder, and walked straight out of the studio.

Jake stood frozen in the middle of the room, looking torn. His head snapped back and forth between the doorway you had just disappeared through and the devastated ghost still crying on the floor. He scratched the back of his neck.

He let out a breath, awkwardly crouching down a safe distance away from the weeping girl.

"Uh... look, thanks for sharing your story," Jake said, offering a stiff but sympathetic nod. "I really hope getting that off your chest makes you feel a little more relieved. Okay? Hang in there."

You stepped into your apartment and shut the door. Tossing your tote bag onto the sofa, you kicked off your shoes and collapsed face-first onto the cushions.

Before you could even close your eyes, your phone buzzed against your side.

You pulled it out. 

It was your mom.

"Hello?" you answered, trying to sound less exhausted than you actually felt.

"Hi, sweetheart," her voice came through the speaker. Just hearing her gentle tone made your tense muscles relax. "I know it's late, but I had a feeling you were still awake. How was your day? Did you finish your final project?"

"Almost," you murmured, rolling onto your back with a soft smile.

"Don't push yourself too hard, okay? Your health is way more important than a grade," she said softly. "Have you eaten dinner yet? Please tell me you didn't just survive on iced coffee today. You need real food."

Listening to her fuss over you, you felt grounded. After dealing with that ghost at campus—a girl who had absolutely no one in the world—your mom's care felt like a literal lifeline.

"I'm going to eat something right now," you promised.

"Good. Make sure you do. I love you, sweetie. Get some proper rest after you eat, okay?"

"I love you too."

You tossed the phone aside. Slowly, you tilted your head back, looking upside down over the top edge of the sofa.

"So?" you asked flatly. "Why are you following me?"

Jake leaned casually against the back of the couch, flashing a bright grin.

"Well..." he shrugged, looking completely innocent. "I was just getting bored hanging around the campus all the time?"

You broke eye contact, rolling back over to stare at the blank ceiling.

"Leave," you said coldly. "This isn't your place. Get out before I hold an actual exorcism."

Jake suddenly appeared right above you. Hovering upside down, his face was mere inches from yours, blocking the ceiling.

"Why are you always so cold?" he asked, tilting his head.

You jerked backward. "Are you crazy?!" you hissed, a fresh spike of adrenaline hitting your chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Jake didn't flinch.

Rubbing your temples, you groaned in frustration. "You're all the same. You just want to talk, but look at me. I'm drained. And it's not like you're the only one I have to deal with."

You pushed yourself off the sofa. Grabbing your tote bag, you walked away, heading straight for your bedroom.

You pushed your bedroom door open and stepped inside. Reaching back to pull it shut, your hand suddenly locked on the doorknob.

The realization hit you like a bucket of ice water, sending a harsh chill straight down your spine.

Wait a minute.

You slowly poked your head out the door, looking back into the living room. Jake was still there.

How did he get inside?

You had spent days warding this apartment. You poured an unbroken line of salt right across the main entrance. You sprinkled holy water around the windows and blessed every single room.

No spirit had ever crossed the threshold.

Yet, Jake was here. Unbothered, untouched by the wards, acting like he had just strolled through a normal door.

You were so lost in the terrifying impossibility of it that you didn't even notice him move.

"Are you okay?"

The sudden voice right in your face made you jump. You stumbled backward.

"Whoa, look out!" Jake yelled.

Without thinking, he lunged forward, shooting his hand out to catch the back of your head. Even as he reached out, a flash of regret crossed his features.

Oh, shit, he realized.

He was a spirit. His hand would just phase through, and you were going to smash your skull.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

It never came.

The room fell into a dead silence.

You didn't hit anything.

And Jake didn't phase through.

Your eyes fluttered open. Your head rested against the palm of his hand. It was distinctly cold, but undeniably, impossibly solid.

He was holding you.