I snuck off back home without him knowing. He’d fallen asleep in his chair near the fence, fell asleep with his arms folded and head dangling on his shoulders. The quiet was too much for me, and the anxiety was like stakes in my back.

My feet hurried along, goose-bumps on my arms; he needed the jacket more than I did. I was trapped in thoughts of him, in worries and plans and daydreams. My head was a mess, chaotic like my hair caught in the wind. I thought about Emma, thought about the way he clung to her stone so desperately. Thought about the names his mother had dropped the day before; Ren and Minhyun and the others. How she said he self-sabotaged. How she said he disappeared.

And then my heart began to race when I remembered the way he held me, the way he held the small of my back. The way he ran his fingers through my hair and the way he kissed me like he was afraid I would shatter in his arms. The kiss that I wasn’t even sure if it really happened anymore. He seemed to have changed on me overnight. Maybe I imagined the whole thing.

I thought that Aron was like a shell, that if you held him up to your ear you could hear the ocean. Sometimes, even most of the time, he was a fire like the sun. But that flame was fleeting, sometimes it was lost to the wind and was left a whisper, a faint cry. He wandered in that cemetery like a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost. Maybe I was too.

I turned the corner and saw the house, saw how it brooded over the streets like the grim reaper himself. Like a dark shadow, a dark cloud, wafted from out of the windows and moaned and cried. Desperate and ominous. I wished now more than ever to feel Aron’s hands on the small of my back, leading me in. My only protector.

Opening the door, I was sure the floor would crumble at my feet. I’d never been away from the house for this long, and I thought it would swallow me up whole.

 

《┄ ✝ ┄》

 

We never exchanged phone numbers. I only now realized, when I was sitting in my room in the dark, desperate to hear his voice, even through a text message. I didn’t have pictures of him, and the scent of him that lingered on my clothes had dissipated. Like he never existed at all. Even my memories of him had already grown foggy, vague. Distant.

I opened the notes app and just started typing. Just went on and on as if he would hear my call and come save me. Take me away from this dark prison cell.

You told me not to come back here alone and I didn’t listen. I thought I was suffocating you, so I left while you were sleeping. I think I’m suffocating, too. I think the air turned to water and my gills have closed up. I can’t breathe under this water, Aron. I don’t even remember how to swim. Not in this darkness where I can’t tell up from down. I’m too afraid to go out for air now. I’m afraid it’s not gonna last. I should have listened to you, Aron. I should have waited for you.

You said you’d always be here if I needed you. Will you come find me?

Please don’t disappear.

Please don’t forget about me.

I was up all night, listening as the rain began to fall hard against the glass, against the rooftop. Banging down like it would rip through the house. Like a hurricane beating water into the earth. Maybe it was a hurricane, waiting to push Aron over the cliff and drag him to the bottom of the sea.

I never should’ve come back to the house.

Please don’t disappear.

 

《┄ ✝ ┄》

 

The streets had been ripped apart, unrecognizable. The sand was soaked and the seaweed hung on the cars parked along the shore. The monsters couldn’t keep me inside, even if I had to claw my way out of the cave or chew my own arm off.

The cemetery was the only thought in my mind. The only place that mattered, the only place that could alleviate my fears. I didn’t know if I wanted to find him there or not. I didn’t know which would be worse, which would be the harsh truth to my horrible nightmares the night before. My thoughts were so muddy, I couldn’t even breathe.

I didn’t even realize I’d started running, didn’t care about the blood taste in the back of my raw throat. There was only the heaviness left in the world where Aron had disappeared. My feet had been in such a panic, I flung myself into the gates of the cemetery like a plastic bag, hair caught in my mouth and fingers pressed hard against the cold metal. Garbage had littered the gravesites and the grass was still damp and swollen. The ghosts clung to my arms and legs, hung off of me like buckets of water. As if I were running in a dream.

He faced the water, hair glossy, hanging in his face. Clinging to his temples. He stood so still, I was sure I was hallucinating. My voice was somewhere back at the house, I forgot to bring it with me. I could only fall into his back, lean into him and let the dampness in his shirt soak into my hair. He was so cold. Aron had never been this cold.

“It rained,” he said lowly, not having flinched once.

“Why didn’t you go home?” I wrapped my arms around his waist, biting my bottom lip and swallowing down sobs. I could feel him shivering against my cheek.

His frozen fingers rested on top of mine. “I couldn’t leave Emma out here alone.”

She’s dead, Aron. Stop sleeping with ghosts. I would’ve said it if I weren’t drowning. I only held him tighter until I was sure I was pulling him down under with me. I would’ve soaked into him if only it were possible. If only to find a remnant of the flames that once radiated that warmth from his embrace.

“I’m sorry, Esme.” His voice was a frail, broken thing. Defeated. Shivering.

“Let’s go back to your house,” I finally forced out, his shirt caught between my fingers, the lines and corners of his hands against my knuckles. I held on tighter than I’ve ever held to anything. I wouldn’t let him vanish again.

“Okay.”

We made our way back into the suburbs, my arms like leashes still wrapped tight around him, holding his body close to mine. We didn’t say a word the whole way, but the way his thumb gently rubbed over my shoulder said enough. His body was drenched with guilt and burdens. I was amazed his legs didn’t give way in the middle of the street.

Neither of us reached to turn on the lights in the house, sitting in the dim living room, falling into the couch blanketed with unfolded laundry. The silence was a deafening thing, ruthless and taunting. I could only let my fingers tip-toe to his on the other side of the couch, barely able to brush against them as they hung motionless. His eyes were on the floor but looking into some dream realm. I waited until his memories would come spilling out of his gaze and puddle onto the floor where I could sift through them and find all the answers.

I never stared so long and hard at someone before; I’d never had the audacity. This wall between us though, it was like a one-way mirror. I saw the deep purples under his eyes, the sickly pale in his skin, the way his bones sighed under the weight of his heart. The back of his neck was bruised, tender and raw.

“When did this start?” I finally asked.

He only looked at me, eyes hollow.

“When did you start sleeping at Emma’s grave?”

He turned away again, thinking. “After my sister’s left.”

“When did they leave?”

“Two years ago.”

I traced my fingers up to the back of his neck, let them fill in the space where Emma’s tombstone had dug into his spine. We were quiet again, speaking in eye contact. As if a string connected our thoughts with tin phones. Our breaths became heavy, my lips struggling to speak out loud. Words were too specific or too vague. Too forward and not forward enough.

“Does your mother know?”

“Of course she does.”

“How long it’s been?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know.”

My fingers dipped into the short hairs at his neckline. His hair was still damp, still cold as ice. “Do you have a blow-dryer?”

“Somewhere, probably.”

I pulled him to the bathroom, digging through the cupboard until I found a dusty blow-dryer that had probably become a fire-hazard by now. I instructed him to pull a chair in front of the mirror, sat him down in it and began running my fingers through the wet strands to chase the water away, the hot air blowing on his scalp. He sat in the chair like a stray dog tossed in the mud, letting me tilt his head this way and that to groom him. There was a pressure on my chest, like I’d turned the blow-dryer on myself.

With the blow-dryer off, he fell back in the chair, his head falling into my abdomen. He felt so heavy; there was no spirit in those frail bones.

“Can we go lay down?” he asked, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror.

“Of course.”

He followed me into his bedroom, fell into his bed like a sandbag in water. I laid up beside him, and before I’d even made myself comfortable in the folds of the sheets, I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close into him. The way his chin rested over my shoulder, the way the soft skin of his cheek rested against mine, we fit so perfectly that way.

“Remember when you said I sounded like a lonely little girl?”

“Uh huh.” His breath slipped over my neck.

“You’re lonely too, huh?”

I felt him sigh deep into my back. “Yeah.”

“Why did you push your friends away?”

“I dunno…”

“Were you scared of something?”

He leaned into me more, breathing in deep. He hadn’t stopped taking such deep breaths since we started talking. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel scared with me, do you?”

He stopped breathing.

“Aron?”

“I don’t know.”

I thought my throat had suddenly been lined with phlegm.

“I don’t feel scared right now, though.”

“No?”

“No.” His nose had burrowed into my hair, tickling my scalp.

Suddenly, I realized how much his scent had been lingering in the blankets, and I pulled them up closer to my face, closing my eyes and letting the smell fill me up. Let it wash out the doubts and the worries that filled my lungs.

“Are you scared, Esme?”

“The times with you?”

“Mmhm.”

“Never.”

“What about all the other times?”

“Always.”

“Then don’t go anywhere without me ever again.” His fingers found the spaces between mine again. There was warmth in his touch like before. I turned into him, let our fingers lose each other so his hands could rest on my back. I traced the line of his collar, tucked my face into the space in the crook of his neck. His lips rested on the crown of my head. I was something precious, and he was Atlantis.

 

《┄ ✝ ┄》

 

A tickling on my arm woke me, goosebumps following the touch close behind. It was dim in the room, dim like twilight time. The walls, the blankets, it all looked so blue, and I could’ve buried my face into his chest and fallen right back to sleep. Like I hadn’t slept in years.

“What time is it?” My voice was so faraway.

“I dunno,” he replied back softly, still brushing his fingers over my skin.

“We slept a long time.”

“Yeah.”

My fingers fiddled with the collar of his shirt, the smell of sleep filling me up. I didn’t know what to say, if I should have said anything at all. I only knew how badly I wanted to sink into his skin and lay in the dark for hours and hours. Maybe even forever.

“Remember when you asked me if I feel scared with you?” Aron asked, phlegm in his throat, lips dry against his teeth.

I nodded, my head rubbing against his chin as I turned to look up at him.

He let his fingers trail up and tangle in my hair. “Well, I’m not scared with you. I’m not.”

Stretching my neck, I kissed his dry lips. I didn’t even mind how unglamorous wake-up kisses were, when your breath smelled bad and there was sleep still in your eyes. When you were sweaty and hot with a face bloated like a wet sponge. Those things didn’t matter here.

“Maybe we should go,” he said, still letting his fingers dance with the strands of my hair.

“Okay.” I didn’t want to go.

Walking down the streets, the lights illuminating the way, I clung to his warmth as the wind charged at us. His arm wrapped around my back, his grip on my waist, it was like a protective belt that fit around me unlike anything else. I only wanted to go back to the house. The fire in his heart wasn’t any good for the sorrows of the dead.

“When did you lose Emma?” I asked, closing my eyes and letting the rhythm of his heartbeat carry me away, as if every pump was the row of an ore, leading me further and further out into sea.

“1998. I was five years old then. She was only three. Just a baby.”

“That’s so sad.”

“I didn’t really understand at first.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

Aron’s gaze skipped around in the dark, distracted by the streetlights. He started tapping his fingers against my hip like the keys of a piano. He looked over his shoulder, as if the howling waves at the shore were coming up behind him, ready to swallow him up in the street.

“What happened to her?” I asked, hoping he would look back at me.

He didn’t. “We were playing in the backyard. She fell into this burrow where some bees had built a hive. They swarmed her. Stung her so many times there was nothing the doctors could do about it.” He grew quiet for a moment. “I still remember what she looked like in the casket. Gray skin, swollen. It didn’t look right. And mom… she was crying really loudly during the service and I felt like every time she howled out, her voice was swimming in my blood.”

The color washed out of his face.

“Hey,” I rubbed his back. “Aron, it’s okay.”

There was a twitch in his expression. “Sorry, I just… the memory is still pretty vivid.”

“It was an impressionable time for you.”

“Unfortunately.”

The hill was especially hard to climb up tonight, our hold to one another making the trip awkward. Imbalanced. Our chairs were still damp from the rain the night before; it must’ve been cloudy all day. I hooked my feet into the spaces between the metal fence, leaned out over the edge and breathed in the salt, the crisp, cool air.

His eyes were lost somewhere in the black wall out at the horizon.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” His brows were raised, lips turned down like a turtle.

“Are you alright?”

“No, I’m Aron.” He grinned.

“Cute.”

He closed his eyes, soaked in the breeze, chest filling up, lips relaxed. Mouth slowly became agape and suddenly I wondered if he’d fall asleep right there leaning against the fence. Like he were floating on water, aura more calm than I’d sensed in days. Without looking away from his serenity swept face, I reached out for the touch of his warm fingers, laced them between mine, prayed for that peace to pour into me.

“What did you let go?”

Aron’s eyes opened, turned to me. “What do you mean?”

“The weight on your shoulders is gone. What was it?”

“Uncertainty… or something. It’s not all gone, I just tossed some of it into the water, that’s all. It felt kind of nice to let it go.”

“Good. You should drop the rest off sometime soon.”

He sighed, and I sighed with him. “It’ll be nice when that day comes.”

“I have a feeling it might be soon.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said it. Maybe I was wrong.

Aron brought my hand up to his lips. “I hope so.”

Quiet overcame the millions of thoughts chattering in my head, had almost wholly consumed Aron as we looked out into the black sky, looking at the horizon that bled into the stars. Gently, he pulled me into him, led me to the space between him and the fence, wrapped his jacket around my body. It was enough just to feel that warmth seep into me again, just like it always had before. Like sanctuary.

“Tomorrow.”

“Hm?” I struggled to meet eyes with him.

“I’ll take you to get your things. I don’t want you to go back there alone, and I don’t want you to go back ever again.” He rested his chin on my shoulder, breathing in deep and sliding his arms around my belly. As if he wanted to breathe me in whole.

My nails dug into the palms of my hands, then grasped for the folds in his sleeves. “I’m scared,” I whispered, wanting to see something in that black void that would guarantee freedom.

“I’m right here. I’ll be there the whole time. You’re not going alone.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Esme.”

“Okay.” I fell into him, like falling into down-feather comforter. His body naturally formed around mine, like the sand beneath toes. A perfect mold. “As long as you’re there, I’ll be okay.”

“You will be,” he breathed into my neck, let his lips brush against the skin beneath my hairline, his nose tickling the lobe of my ear. Everything smelled like hot apple cider and caramel.

 

《┄ ✝ ┄》

 

It felt like walking into a morgue, but even a morgue would be more welcoming than this place. My heart was a beating drum against my chest, trying to break free from behind my ribcage. If only I could fuse our limbs together, then maybe I wouldn’t feel like a snowflake in the heat of summer. Even with a firm grasp on my shoulder, gentle thumb rubbing against the fabric, there was only vulnerability and outnumbered ranks. I’d come and gone to this place all my life, but the act of leaving, the day I dreamed of, was suddenly one of the most frightening things I could imagine.

He opened the front door, my trembling fingers latched onto him like fishhooks. Suddenly everything is blurry, like fragments of a memory. Pieces of shattered glass that’ve been clouded and dulled by the embrace of the sea-sand and the relentless waves.

A film clouded my head, foggy as I breathed against it. The yelling was a muffled thing, like the muffled howls of an angry ocean pummeling the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, demanding the bodies buried deep in the dirt as sacrifice. Tunnel vision led me to my room, to my dresser. The darkness held my mouth shut tight and my breaths tip-toed from my lips lest the monsters grab them up and throw them out. It was like the war was all behind me and I could ignore it, could live while the walls crumbled around me and Aron held the ceiling over my head. Like a movie, like being safe in the audience with sympathy in my chest and anxiety in my head.

Like being underwater, Aron’s arms swept around my shoulders, grabbed one of my bags and led me out the door. I leaned into him, let him lead us out of the darkness of that place and take us back to his home—our home. “You’re safe now.”

“You’re safe.”

---

Author's Note: Should be about 1 or 2 more parts! Let me know what you think so far!