He watched the male every day. He watched him getting up in the morning with swollen eyes and tear tracks on his cheeks. He would watch the man stumble to the bathroom and ready himself for the day. Then hurry as he gulped down a cup of scalding coffee before running out of the door, late as he was nearly every day. He followed as the man squeezed himself on the bus during the morning rush to travel to work where he was looked at with sympathetic and pitying eyes that he could tell the man disliked. He knew that the younger man just wanted to get on with his day without being reminded constantly whenever he looked into someone’s eyes.

Later when the young man trudged home, he’d wait for him. He would sit silently and patiently on the sofa as the other prepared a dinner for one. He would wish that he could eat, that he could chat to the man who looked so lonely eating alone at the too large dinner table. He regretted persuading the other that a larger table was needed for when they had guests.

When the man climbed into bed earlier than he ever would have in the past and curled up into himself, he would lay down beside him, covering him with his non substantial self and whisper in his ear. He would beg him to stop, to let him go, to forget him, to get up, to get out, to leave this place and start again. He would whisper that he was alright here, that the man could be alright as well.

He would embrace him with his invisible arms and stupidly try and wipe the tears when he knew that he wouldn’t be able to but he can never stop himself from trying.

“I love you,” He murmurs and hopes that the other can sense his love and care, even if he cannot see, hear or feel him.