#rcinbcws

“Thanks for coming — I already have a whole pot ready,” Simon offered. He directed Willa to where the mugs were, though he had already made himself a cup: nothing but plain coffee and a gratuitous amount of sugar mixed in to satisfy his secret sweet tooth. 

“You won’t believe the week I had,” He continued after he took a drink from his mug. “On Monday, this man asked me to help him find his wife. I think he called me pretty boy?” Simon shook his head. “I tried to ignore him at first, but you know, that sort of became difficult by the end of the day. I think he kept following me until…jeez, Wednesday night? He was finally gone Thursday morning when I got up. I’m sure he kept me up for most of Tuesday night talking about how he wants to just touch his wife again, which…I guess is sweet, but…” Simon wrinkled his nose. “Annoying when you’re trying to sleep or get any work done. 

Willa nodded in reply. They weren’t friends, not exactly, but Willa could understand a part of his life that no one else could, not Han or Mimi or anyone else he’d ever met. As much as Simon preferred silence to talking, these meetups to complain about whatever ghost had hitched onto them that week made dealing with them a little easier. Not by much, but a little. 

“On Sunday, I’m pretty sure I met the ghost of Abraham Lincoln,” Willa began. “Or…someone who died as an Abraham Lincoln impersonator. But by Tuesday —“ Her voice faltered. “I — I saw her,” Her eyes narrowed to a small space behind Simon’s back. Still holding his piping cup of coffee between his hands, Simon turned to look at the spot behind him. 

There, he saw a younger girl, in her twenties, perhaps? Usually, Simon could tell if he’d seen a specific ghost before, the general vibe they gave off feeling generally familiar. He didn’t get that vibe from her, but the faint hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise signaled to him that something…or rather someone else was nearby. 

He looked past the young woman to find a taller man, one who had stood at Simon’s bedside talking about how much he missed his wife. 

“We crossed paths trying to find the other one,” The tall ghostly man explained. “So we don’t need your help for that anymore,”

“Perfect,” Simon scoffed. “You can leave us both alone then, yeah?”

“Simon —“ Willa scowled. 

He knew she didn’t care for the way he spoke to or treated the spirits, insisting that shit would hit the fan if he didn’t at least hear them out, that it would come back to bite him later on. Which…sure, there had been times Simon didn’t help a spirit and had come to regret it later on, but he didn’t want to be known as the one who helped them. He still had a life of his own to live; helping ghosts was a responsibility shoved upon him, not one that he’d asked for. So Simon didn’t care that Willa didn’t like it; he needed to push ghosts away to keep himself sane. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” Simon continued. “I said that you don’t need us anymore. Leave us alone.”

The ghostly man shook his head. “I wanted to do more than just find my wife again,” He continued. “And since you didn’t help us find one another when we asked, we’re going to force you to help us now.”

Simon knew what came next, but both he and Willa were powerless to stop it. The taller male ghost stepped forward and faded into Simon’s body, which left a chill deep within his chest as someone else took over a body that didn’t belong to them. Uncomfortable fear pumped through his blood, he still couldn’t understand just how Willa had dealt with being possessed like this. Simon doubted he would ever get used to the feeling of not being in control over his own skin. 

He unwillingly turned to look back at Willa. “Miriam?” A voice that seemed to belong to Simon asked. “Are you there?”

An eerie smile grew across Willa’s lips. “It’s me, Isaac,” She breathed. “It’s me.”

Simon’s arms, or rather Isaac controlling Simon’s arms, wrapped around Willa’s smaller frame. His face buried itself in her hair which tickled his nose. But as much as Simon wanted to pull away, at least to scratch his nose, he couldn’t even make his pinky finger twitch. 

“It’s not the same as touching your old body,” Simon’s voice said. “But it’s better than being dead.”

“God,” Not-Willa whispered as lips that belonged to Simon nibbled at her ear and left a trace of small pecks down her cheek and to the corner of her mouth. “This definitely beats being dead,”

His hands began to explore her body, a body that felt unfamiliar to both Simon and the second spirit that currently resided within him. He ran down the sides of her chest to the soft curve of her hips. Even Simon’s pants tightened as his hand moved across her bones, under the lace of her skirt, and to the space between her legs. A gasp escaped Willa as his fingers began to rub against her. 

“I-Isaac,” She groaned into his shirt, to which Simon smiled at her squirming. 

“Where’s the bedroom in this place?” Not-Simon asked. He pulled himself away from her legs. “I can’t climb on top of you like this,” 

An image of the door that lead to his bedroom flashed across Simon’s mind, deepening the unsettling grin against his face. He took Willa by the collar of her shirt to push the both of them to the door that sat slightly ajar. Her steps fell backward until the back of her ankles crashed against the bed frame. Willa’s back fell against the dark comforter. 

“I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since the twenties,” Willa giggled. She pushed herself further up so she laid sprawled out against the bed. 

“It’s been too long,” Simon nodded. He rested both hands on either side of her head. “We’ve waited too long for this,”

Not long enough, in Simon’s true opinion, not that he currently had the means to express how he truly felt. Instead, he stayed above Willa as she trailed downward to undo the button of his pants. A hand shifted into his boxers. Simon bit his bottom lip as Willa’s index finger slowly stroked up and down. 

Even with the minimal touching his breathing became deep. “Not so fast,” He whispered against her ear. Simon stood on his knees against the bed. He snuck up her skirt and pressed against her thighs until his nails brushed against more lace. The fabric dragged back down her legs before being tossed to the side and abandoned on the floor. 

Simon grasped for Willa’s hand. Fingers entangled together, he looked into her eyes, and their hips kissed after he moved into her. 

“I missed you,” Simon groaned against her. “I missed this. I missed us”

He could feel himself getting lost in Willa’s dark eyes. They may have looked like Willa’s, but the spirit within him seemed to see beyond that, to the girl from the past that he still very clearly loved. The wrinkle of her brow, the gasp from her lips as they moved together…the girl under him wasn’t the Willa he’d slowly gotten to know.

Simon hoped that Willa could say the same. Once the ghosts within them both had finished and left their bodies physically and emotionally drained behind them, he considered asking her what had gone through her mind. Willa was a more open person - would she tell him if he asked? Did he even want to know?