✦ cleumuu

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Five.

During your walks home, you’d stop by a new cafe if your wallet allowed it, trying a drink or slice of cake that caught your eye.

It was a small but effective way to lighten your week; romanticizing your life for a few hours before you had to get back to reality. Today, however… Something about the cafe you chose felt strange.

A chill clung to you despite how the interior was heated with comforting, yellow lights. And every time you put down your drink or leaned down to take a bite of cake… it almost felt as if someone was watching you—a sensation, or unwanted attention, brushing past your lips, or what you could have sworn was the air conditioning pushing your hair out of your face.

…Weird. It almost felt as if something was looming over you, blocking your view of the rest of the cafe.

-

Four. As you were sitting and reading on your phone at the park, a gust of wind sweeps past your legs, throwing up the hem of your shirt to expose your mid-drift. 

You had gotten used to the odd weather by now; something about autumn and Halloween at the end of the month. But when your acquaintances spot you from afar and come to say hello, a chill crawls down your spine, and you can almost feel a weight pushing down on your neck. 

As you tried your best to hold the conversation, your nerves get the best of you. You end up excusing yourself and beelining home—wondering if you’d over-exerted yourself lately.

Why does your body suddenly feel so heavy and flushed?

You step into your bathroom and run a hot shower. After a few moments, the sick, feverish sensations lift off your chest.

But unbeknownst to you, the closets in your bedroom are clinking. Draws open and shut, stealing away a few articles of clothing.

-

Three. You have a dream with a faceless man in it, but can’t recall his appearance or name.

It started innocently enough. He had saved you from group of men with torches, whisked you away to a cottage by the beach…

You were sure you ‘loved’ him, at least within the narrative. You spent days and nights cooking together, strolling through fields, and gazing at the stars while laying down on a blanket on the sand.

There was a scene with flowers, you remember, where you lazed on the grass with him and no words had to be exchanged. He gazed down at your, cupping your face with his palm, and…

Ding! You startle back to reality as your microwave calls. Trying to shake away the phantom sensations of his warm palms and hair tickling your chin, you leave your phone on the counter.

On it is a google search of flower types. You’d later identify the field you were in as brugmansias.

Angels Trumpets symbolize transformations and enchanting allure. 

What you don’t remember is the mystery man’s ability to control the field of flowers; the scene shifting into glowing scarlet as his emotions bled into the scene.

You were on the brink of proper, pitch-black sleep, after all. And now that the moon was not able to hold him back, Sol cups your face with both hands, smiling down at you as a flower vine places a pill on your lips. 

He kisses you with enough fervor to push it down your throat.

You’re his, his, his.

-

The clock strikes two when you’re at a Halloween party, tired and drunk out of your mind.

You don’t even recall drinking that much, to be honest—and remain unsure if you simply hallucinated a cute guy offering to dance.

He was wearing a mask, you think. And you exchanged only a few words before your memory grows fuzzy, and you wake up at home, showered and comfortably swaddled into bed.

You’ll need to text your friends and thank them for taking care of you; it seemed that you liked that masked man quite a bit, as you had a dream of being led through a graveyard by him, lured by the welcoming fondness in his eyes.

Or… maybe you didn’t imagine him after all? You must’ve had quite the wild night to have woken up with visible, purpling marks on your neck and down towards your arms. 

As you inspect yourself in the mirror, you feel a blush crawling up your neck as a very obvious indent presses down the nape of your neck.

God, you can’t let anyone see this. You’ll figure out how this happened once you finish up your chores.

As you make yourself breakfast and sip on your drink, you come to wonder: did your apartment always smell like flowers?

- 

One.

The night after Halloween is bathed in darkness as a breeze pushes up your window, and a phantom appears, as if hailing from the moon itself.

Unlike in the past, Sol’s feet hit the ground with a clink as he enters your apartment. He shuts the window, and slowly makes his way to your sleeping self.

“There you are, Pumpkin.” He smiles, unable to contain his joy as his weight causes your mattress to dip. 

Ghosts aren’t supposed to interact with the human world at all—only able to move items like poltergeists if they died in a particular manner. However, with the month of Halloween such boundaries become blurred—and luckily for Sol, he’d discovered that it was possible for certain humans to see ghosts even beyond October, if they were binded together in some way.

Luckily for him, his resting place was one that blossomed with brugmansias. And on the night where you went to that Halloween party, he’d been able to appear in front of you by possessing a man—just long enough to lure you away from the busy streets, down a familiar path—and to the cathedral where he was buried, planting a flower petal on your tongue which grew from his grave. 

It was sweet, seeing how pliant you were under the moonlight. Sol’s enchantments aside, he was certain that a part of you was always drawn to him—albeit unconsciously, and couldn’t help but extend the night by having a dance with you.

The vessel he’d chosen… Well, it would have to be disposed of, seeing that even if it was Sol’s own doing, this was another man who’d dared to lay his hands on you. But at least until the brugmansias had taken effect—Sol didn’t want to waste how beautiful you looked tonight. There was no living soul for miles away, and so he smiled as you gazed at him, movements trancelike, and imagined that you were simply two youths in love.

Your dance and stroll moved from the graveyard to the cathedral nearby. The moonlight streaming in through the windows fragmented from the stained glass; and Sol could imagine that this was your own version of a ceremony. A marriage between the living and the dead. 

By the time you wake up the next day, he should finally be able to speak to and touch you. He’d be the only ghost you’re able to see. And even if the flower may wear off after a while, he can always just enchant you and feed it to you again, and again—as many times as required. It didn’t matter if no one else was aware of him, so long as he had you.

Sol would welcome you back home at the end of each day, brushing his hands against your shoulders as he helped you out of your day clothes. His fingers would run down your shoulders, wrap an arm around your waist as you settle down on the couch…

He’d lull you into the sweetest of dreams with his spells. 

Sol just loves it when you stare at him with such hooded, hazy eyes; lips parted as he leans in close, so pliant as he tilts your head up by your chin, asking you to voice what you wanted, and hearing his name drip off your tongue. 

God, he could hear you say his name forever. Again, and again, and again, until your body is slotted warmly against his, so soft and pressed against his chest with a sort of heat that makes him feel human again. —Like an actual lover as he lay beside you, sighing your name like a prayer as he swallows your lips in the comfort of your bed. With every fiber of his being resisting the urge to bite, and take, and consume.

…After all. Sol was already soaking in your attention during the day, even when you were spending time outside with friends. 

He really loves the conflicted alarm in your eyes as he catches you alone. In the break room between work, or a quiet sidewalk that didn’t have passersby, yet:

“Come on, Pumpkin. Let me have a taste?”

”I’ll leave a little something for your friends to find.”

There’s something about you that makes Sol feel particularly voracious. As if he could feed on you for all of eternity and not feel satisfied.

But how could you blame him for being a little greedy? He was just a cold, hollow ghost.

So long as he does not take too large of a bite... Sol is sure that he could savor you for all of eternity. Whether it be in your apartment, where you had nowhere to hide—or while you’re talking to a stranger as his hands wander, and nuzzles his face into your neck.

He loves it when you aren’t able to take him off your mind. And even if you try to blame him, and say that he’s too much—all he has to do is grow teary-eyed as he falls to his knees, clinging to your thighs as he begs for you to accept him.

Please, you’re the only one he has. The only love he’ll ever know.

Just let him know how to make it better.

He can’t believe his luck. It took him all the self control in his body not to start panicking and freaking out when you had approached him and asked him to be your partner, and now he got the honor of hogging all of your attention while you used him as a model. Would it be foolish of him to hope that you like what you see? He knows his fashion sense and style isn’t for everyone and tends to make him a target more than an object of admiration, but… you’re different. You’re understanding and compassionate, and maybe you’d find something worth loving in him.

“Hold still… I’m almost done here…,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out just a little bit as you scribble furiously onto your sketchpad. Sol’s heart skips a beat, and while he can feel a rush of dizziness immediately hit his brain at your cute tongue peeking out from between your lips, he doesn’t want to disappoint you ever. 

After a few determined strokes, you nod at him. For the first time since class started, Sol finally lets himself relax. His tense muscles groan as he finally allows himself to shift positions into a more comfortable seated position, and he looks expectantly at you as if he wants to see your creation. You’re like a mind reader, and without him having to say anything, you gingerly hand him your sketchbook. 

“I’m not an artist like you are, but… I tried my best,” you shyly admit. Sol’s breath hitches audibly when you scoot your seat a bit closer to him to explain to him your handiwork, but you don’t seem to notice. “I- uh- don’t know if I did your piercings justice since you have a lot, but I gave them a shot.”

You could have spat on the paper and handed it to him, and Sol would still treasure and revere it as if it were a masterpiece deserving to be displayed in the finest of art museums. Of course, he would never hand it over to anybody and keep it only for his personal viewing, but in his perspective, everything your hands could create was nothing if not holy. 

“It’s beautiful. You should give yourself more credit. You’re not a bad artist at all.” He thinks he’s going to pass out after class from just how happy he is. A shudder creeps down his spine as he relishes the thought of your eyes all over his face and body, him being the only thing to take up the forefront of your mind. What he wouldn’t give to know what you thought of him as you sketched his face. Just knowing that you cared enough about him to draw him makes him feel as if he’s on top of the world, and he can feel a warm flush overtake his pale cheeks. “Don’t worry too much about my piercings. I know metal can be hard to draw.”

“Yeah, but… I just feel a little bad. They look so cool on you.” You flash him an innocent smile, completely unaware of the mental anguish you’re putting the poor lovestruck boy through. “I’ll keep practicing! That way I’ll be able to draw you perfectly by the end of this project.”

His piercings? Cool? Sol’s heart genuinely can’t take this barrage. What is it about you that has him acting this way? What is it about you that makes him want to drag you away from everybody else and keep you all to himself, to worship and to love? The others around you don’t know how to fully appreciate your generosity and light, how you’re kind to everyone, even misfits like him. He’s the only one who knows how to properly care and cherish you, and he can’t let anybody else steal that role away from him. He’s spent so many sleepless nights chasing after your warmth, eating away bit by bit at the safety of the boundaries you’ve put up. 

Nothing can keep you safe from him. 

You don’t know anything about how he feels though. You’re pure and oblivious to his mental turmoil, completely unaware of the sheer effect you have on him. You keep looking at him as if he was nothing more than an eccentric classmate rather than someone you were fated to, just without your knowledge. You peer closely at his face, before lifting a delicate finger to point at his lips.

“Say Sol…,” you ask him, clearly absentmindedly based on how casual your tone is, “How do you kiss if you have lip piercings?”

…

…

…

Why did you have to ask him something like that?

Sol thinks his brain might have ceased functioning the moment you threw him that question. Nothing—absolutely nothing—has been able to reach him as he plays that memory over and over again in his head. Even the jeers of the school bullies or Hyugo’s incessant chatter couldn’t yank him out of his lovestruck reverie. Sol was on cloud nine, replaying the melodic cadence of your voice over and over and over again within his memories. He could never get sick of you or your many details. Every little bit of information he could glean from you was so precious that he could spend the rest of his life in sheer ecstasy at how perfect you were. 

Hyugo was used to it at this point and knew not to question it. But whenever Sol entered into these almost drunken stupors, it was hard for Hyugo to not worry about him a bit. Sol’s cheeks are dyed a ridiculous shade of bright red, and his hands tremble uncontrollably as he fidgets with his fingers. There’s a lopsided grin on his face, and if Hyugo really pays attention, he can make out a lovesick sigh escape the eccentric young man every now and then.

Sol just wishes he could actually peer into your mind and figure out what you thought of him! What made you ask him such a risque question? Were you interested in him? You had to be somewhat, if you initiated the partnership with him and even called his style cool… Nobody else talked about him that way. Nobody else, save for you, found him interesting. What if you had a crush on him too? Was that why you asked him about kissing? Was this your way of encouraging him to amp up his advances?

It meant that you had to be thinking about his lips. About kissing him specifically. Sol could feel his heart rate pick up dangerously again as he imagines your sweet face approaching his, closing the impossible distance between the two of you bit by bit. How many years, grueling moments, had he waited for this to take place? Maybe you’d be shy and only leave him with a quick peck to his mouth. Or maybe you’d be more gutsy and press your lips fully onto his, making out with him in a way that leaves both of you breathless and gasping for air. His heart squeezes almost painfully inside of his chest at the thought of you being so close, doing something so mundane yet so intimate, showing him a kind of romantic affection that nobody else could share with you…

He wants so badly to be the only one in your eyes. Each minute of class with you feels like torture. He wants nothing more than to close that gap. It doesn’t have to be anything big: placing his big hand on top of yours, poking your nose whenever you get distracted, all the small things that come so easily for normal couples. Kissing would just be the first step. What else could come after? There was a whole myriad of things he could dream of. He’d escort you dutifully to every single one of your classes so that everybody in this school would know that you were his. 

You’d spend more and more time together, and surely, one day you’d invite him over to your apartment that he’s secretly grown so familiar with… Just thinking about it makes his skin bristle with excitement. If everything went as planned, as easily as his daydreams made it look, then he could finally have you in the way that he wanted most.

You had to reciprocate somewhat. You just had to be interested in him as much as he was interested in you. That was what that quick question meant to him, your words construed and twisted beyond belief inside of his delusional thoughts. 

Hyugo puffs one of his cheeks out and peers at his daydreaming friend with a bit of concern. “Are you gonna eat your lunch, Sunny?”

Sol doesn’t respond at all. Hyugo sighs and shakes his head before tapping the side of Sol’s arm. 

“I asked you a question!” The shorter man points at the untouched food in Sol’s lap. Sol bristles to life, the hearts in his eyes melting away as they refocus and Hyugo enters his field of vision again. Hyugo points once again at the abandoned food and raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

Sol deadpans. If Hyugo’s presence wasn’t so convenient, he would have sent Hyugo flying to his death from the rooftop for interrupting his precious time with daydream-you. He lets Hyugo take the food before letting his mind wander again, wind blowing through his air as he wonders what you might be up to right now. Were you thinking of him too? Would you be thinking of him even when he’s not within your immediate vicinity.

He wants to see you so badly right now. He wishes he was in class again, for the first time in his life, so that he could have you right next to him and monopolize your time as he pleases. But Sol knows he has to be patient. One wrong step would have his great expectations come toppling down, and he would rather die than live in a world where he can’t have you anymore.

So he makes up his mind there and then. There was no room for hesitation. You had finally noticed him after all of his time lurking in the shadows, and these passive moments weren’t enough to satisate the brutal appetite you had awoken inside of him. He needs more. He needs more of your time. He needs more of your love. 

If you were so curious about him and his piercings, so curious about the way he kissed, then he’d make the answer as simple as it could get.

He’ll kiss you tomorrow and show you just how he does it.

(2/5)

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