#ghost chapter 16

You swing around the doorframe, smiling softly when Copia comes into view. He sits on his bed, eyes focused intently on his little TV. You can hear the pixelated noises of a game on his Nintendo, probably Driving Miss. Daisy (Up the Wall), as he puts it.

You have tried to get Copia to upgrade his console, but the man is intimidated by all the new buttons and gizmos.

“If it ain’t damaged, do not try to send it for repair,” he said one evening.

You didn’t have the heart to correct his misuse of the phrase.

You slip into the room quietly and stand a few feet away, watching his relaxed, almost innocent expression. His eyes flicker up for a moment and then back to the television before he gasps and jumps up, throwing the controller which catches on its chord and thumps to the bed.

“Amore! Hey! Hey there. Didn’t, eh, didn’t see you,” he says, scratching his head and letting out a small “hehe.”

“Sister says you are hard at work on your…receipts,” you smile at him knowingly.

“Well, yes,” he says firmly. “Lots of receipts. All the different things. Things I paid for, you know, receipt-able things.”

You tilt your head to the side and try to frown, but a wide smile stretches across your face, a giggle escaping your lips which blossoms pink across Copia’s cheeks.

“Come here,” he murmurs, opening arms that you happily fall into.

Copia holds you close, his gloved hand stroking down your cheek as the other draws patterns on your arm. He sighs, taking in the scent of you, a tension you weren’t aware of melting from his body.

“Comin’ in here, teasing your Papa,” he says, pulling back a little to point a finger at you, his chin tilted down as he pins you with a mock stern look. “You know tax season is very important, eh?”

“Oh yes, of course,” you say, looking equally as serious. You stare at each other for a beat of a second before you bite your lip and smile, “Can I play?”

Copia claps his hands together and rubs them, giggling happily as he grabs your hands and pulls you toward his bed. He makes sure you are comfortable, piling the pillows behind your back before sitting beside you and taking the control back up.

“Okay! So, we got this woman here, Miss. Daisy, and she needs to go to church for whatever reason - she probably likes the wafers. So! We can choose whether to take her,” he leans in close and smirks. “Or tell her to fuck off! Yeah.”

You laugh, leaning your shoulder against his. Copia is watching you with the sweetest smile, his eyes lit up with joy. How can he convey that this means everything to him? Having you in his life, enjoying the things that make him happy, is more than he could ever ask for. He doesn’t deserve you, but how grateful he is for you.

“Tell her to fuck off!” You growl, still giggling.

Copia whoops, punching the air for a moment before aggressively hitting the “B” on his controller. The game makes a sad noise, a crash and a Game Over! screen blinking on the television. You both stare at it, and then at each other, and burst out laughing so hard that you fall against each other, hands grasping for each other’s shirts as you cling on and laugh until there are tears in your eyes.

Copia is the first to pull back, his laughter dulling to low chuckles until he’s quiet. Your fingers still wrapped around his hoodie, you look at him, your lips parting slightly from the heated, intense gaze he’s locked you with. He whispers your name, affection on his features as he leans close, his breath ghosting over your lips. Your eyelids flutter, and you shakily inhale, a flush passing across your cheeks as his fingertips cradle your jaw. His lips are mere inches from yours.

“I’d like to press your ‘B’ button,” he whispers.

Your eyes snap open and you look at him, his face completely serious. Your brow furrows, a smile threatening your lips.

“What’s that mean?” You whisper back.

“Ya know, eh, if Miss. Daisy’s ‘B’ button was ‘fuck off’ then your button is f-,” he shakes his head. “I’ll shut up now.”

He kisses you. He kisses you as if you could disappear from his hands. He pours his love, his devotion, his happiness into one gentle touch of lips. You’re left breathless.

When you pull back, he chuckles at the dreamy expression on your face, knowing it’s mirrored on his. He rubs his nose against yours, nipping your lips again for a quick moment, his eyes glittering as he takes in that precious face he looks forward to seeing everyday, and for the rest of his life. Copia grabs the pillows and tosses them to the edge of the bed, scooting you both back until he's resting against them with you curled around him, your head on his chest. He lets out a quiet, satisfied breath, running his fingers over your back, lightly pressing or kneading certain spots that he feels might be a little too tight. The Game Over screen continues to run on the television, the music playing on a loop. It's a decent tune.

“Oh, amore?” Copia questions a few moments later.

“Hmm?”

“Did you happen to see Saltarian pushing around one of those glass coffins?”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah. I tripped him when he went by and threatened to burn down his beach house until he told me what it was for.”

“So? What…what’s it for?” His voice is nervous.

“He said something about Kevin needing it when he flies out here in April before tour starts. Those things are air tight and he needs somewhere to store all that bread he’s been making. It just doesn’t run out!”