Ghost Boyfriend: John 2 (complete)

Some days, it feels like John isn’t there in the room at all. Like before, you’ll feel cold breezes graze against your cheek, or hear something that isn’t there. It starts to feel like that day when he threw the box was all a fluke, maybe even a practical joke. 

Mason hasn’t heard John talk at all, but you hear like he’s standing beside you. You try to make sense of it all, but no matter how you try to reason your way out, you can’t. 

Now as you sort through clothes, you start wearing your headphones in both ears. Before, you let one side hang off to keep an ear on things, but now, it seems like John is always trying to reach out to you. You’re scared, and you hope ignoring John will make him go away.

One day, as you turn around in your seat, you see all the mannequins gathered up behind you, stacked precariously on top of each other. As you look at them they crumble, falling to the floor in a great heap.

John is demanding your attention. 

You remove the headphones from your ears and set them aside. You take deep breaths as you try to calm your nerves. The mannequin parts scattered across the floor keep you fenced in at your seat.

As you breathe, a cloud of white steam billows from your lips. The air is growing colder around you and you can feel the presence of someone standing nearby, but you can’t see anything. As you focus on your hands, you see a figure in your periphery. They stand on the other side of the mannequin parts as you focus on your fingers. The dull, wispy nature of their form seems to have a more permanent shape. You can almost make out colors and textures. Almost. 

You see an old, worn boot as it steps over a head and an arm. When you try to look at it directly, you see nothing at all. So you focus on your hands, keeping the figure in the corner of your eye. You can feel a breath on your ear and something gently touching your hair.

“Can you not-” You click your tongue against your teeth as you try to take a steady breath. “Please. Don’t touch me! It’s unnerving.”

A voice comes to your ear, but it sounds like echoes in a long hallway. The sound warbles before fading like wind into the distance. You try to swallow, but your mouth and throat have become unbearably dry. 

“I can’t hear you,” you whisper. “I don’t even know if you’re really there. I know I’ve heard you before, but now it’s-” You laugh at how surreal this is. “I feel crazy!”

You look up and see a mannequin has reassembled itself. It stands there, arms poised stiffly and head turned at an odd angle. The head suddenly turns, looking directly at you.

You yell, then clutch your hand around your chest. “Stop using the mannequins! Please! They’re so creepy!” You squeeze your eyes shut tight. “What do you want?”

“I want to understand,” John’s voice sounds far away from you. It’s faint and whispery, but you can hear it now. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“I don’t...” You open your eyes again, and you can see John standing near you. “I don’t either. John, right?”

“Yes.”

You lift your head, seeing an apron and black gloves from the corner of your eye. “Why do you keep speaking to me?”

“You’re the only one who has heard me. It’s been so long since someone was in here, though. I can’t remember.”

“What do you do when there is no one here?” you ask quietly. 

John is quiet. “I don’t know. I know I am here, but when someone isn’t in the room it feels like I fade for a while. Like I’m nonexistent, but here.”

“Is that what you meant by the room being empty the other day?”

You see his hands move up. He clutches them together and wrings his fingers anxiously. “It’s so lonely here.” He sounds much closer to you now. “There used to be so much, and now I can’t find anyone. I can’t understand time anymore. It’s as if the past and present are running alongside each other. It rips me apart.”

You turn your head slightly at the distress in his voice. He sounds like he’s in pain, and you feel guilty for ignoring him for so long. “If you’re a ghost, it makes sense. You’re trapped between worlds. You existed in the past, but whatever you are is here now.”

“But why? Why am I trapped?” John cries.

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I don’t know how to answer any of this.” You look ahead so you can peer at John from the corner of your eye. “Can you tell me what you remember? Anything from the past? Maybe things about the present?”

John picks up parts of the mannequins from the ground. “Some days there is more of me, other days there is less.”

You turn your eyes, hoping to see more of him, but he seems to move just out of view. “I really don’t know what to do. Is there something you want from me?”

The mannequin pieces are placed onto the table beside you. “It feels nice just having someone here. I feel more of myself when you’re in the room. When you leave, it starts to hurt again.”

“Maybe it’s an energy you need to feed off of.” You touch the hand of the mannequin. It feels warm. “Can you move beyond this room? There’s always people outside it.”

“I’ve never tried. I’m scared.” The mannequin hand turns so that your palms are touching. “This place is all I know. It feels safe. How could I leave it?”

Your phone begins to ring, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You answer it once you see it’s Mason calling you. “Mason, come back here. You’re not going to believe this!”

“What?” Mason laughs. “I was just closing up and your car is still back here. I thought you left at three! Where are you?”

You check the time on your phone and realize it’s past six. The last you knew it had just barely been one o’ clock. “I’m still in the back!”

“You have got to be joking.” You hear keys rattling. 

You stand from your seat and look around. You don’t feel John anywhere around you, nor do you hear him. As you hang up your phone, Mason opens the door and looks at the pile of mannequin parts.

“What the fuck is this?”

You quickly grab Mason’s hand and yank him close to you. “He was here! We were talking.”

Mason stares at you like you’re crazy. “The ghost again?”

You nod. “Can you stay here?”

“No!” he balks. “Why would I want to hang around where there is a confirmed spectre lurking around?”

“I don’t think he’s lurking, Mason,” you sigh. “I think he’s benevolent.”

Mason kicks away some of the mannequin limbs. “You’re not Demi Moore, you know? This ghost is probably more Tim Curry than Patrick Swayze!”

“Just stay here for a second, alright? I think the more people who are in this room, the more he can materialize himself.”

Mason makes a face. “Well, let me go fetch the girls and the Ouija board.”

You draw your fingers across your lips. “Zip it. Be quiet for, like, five seconds. Okay?”

Masons scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut like you asked. You turn back to see a flicker of a figure standing before you. He disappears as soon as you look at him, but John was there. 

“Hello? Are you there?” You stretch your hand out. “John?”

You don’t see anything, but you can feel a palm in your own. It feels rough and calloused, but gentle as his fingers wrap around your hand. You close your hand, holding John’s in your own. You see a brief flash of blue eyes before Mason touches your shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

You don’t feel John anymore as you turn towards Mason. “He was-” You shake your head. “He held my hand.”

“You were standing still for like, twenty minutes.” Masons says, concerned. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. Twenty?” You glance back into the room. “Maybe I should go home.” You follow Mason out of the store and back to your car. 

The next day, as you come into the back room you can feel a presence hanging heavy in the air. You feel slow as you step inside, but once the door closes it seems to dissipate. You sit down at the table and see a notepad laying open with writing on it.

“There are fades and flashes into the light. Tunnels and spinning clockwork that keeps going to the left. Sometimes when it stops and moves to the right, I can see things clearer than before. The images move not like figures on a screen, but more slow and heavy, as if in water. They sink rather than rise, and as they go down, down, down, into the darkness below I cannot follow. I have no way to describe time anymore. It used to be a current going forward, but now it’s all around me. I’m swallowed up, unable to escape, barely able to move. I’m trapped and bogged down with mud to my ankles. I slog forward, trudging hard as my knees threaten to break and give out. My hands don’t feel what I touch. I hold air, but there is a box there, a head, a chain, some paper. I feel you, though. Your hand was the first thing that was real to me in so long. There was no time, no being trapped. I held onto you and felt myself start to fade away, but it was not a bad thing. I was no longer imprisoned when your hand held mine. It was a lifeline of strong rope, but my grip could not hold on. I fell back into the mud again, and before I could forget I had to get out everything so perhaps you could understand. I don’t know how long I’ll hold myself, but if I could hold you, I could hold everything.”

“Whoa, what?” You hold the paper, reading it over and over again. You feel a cold breeze against your neck, and then a palm clasps around your hand. 

“Is it you?” you whisper.

The hand holding yours grows warmer. You turn slightly, and see an arm beside yours. He’s standing right behind you.

“I know you don’t like me touching you, but let me linger a moment longer. That’s all I ask.”

“It’s okay for now.” You slowly set down the paper, then turn your palm so his hand in is yours. You can’t see anything, but he’s obviously there. You like the roughness of his hand, the weight of his arm, even the shadow of warmth lingering on your skin. You feel his fingers lace with yours, and something presses against your back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “But just a little while more.”

You nod your head. “It’s okay.” You’re in disbelief, but holding on to him doesn’t feel like it should. It feels warmer somehow, softer. You close your eyes, and as you breathe and you can almost smell him.

“It doesn’t hurt so much when I can hold on like this,” he whispers. “I’m not trapped. I can move again.”

You give his hand a squeeze. “What happens when you let go?”

“Everything around me goes so fast, but I stay put. Things whip around me, running me down, and never looking my way. It feels like I’m pulled to safety when I take your hand.”

You look and see his arm. He’s wearing a white, crisp shirt with the sleeve rolled up. The back of his arm is hairy, as are his knuckles. There’s a shimmer to his skin that reminds you of a pearl. 

“I should let go now,” John whispers. “When I hold you, I pull you down.” His hand slips away from yours, and you can no longer see him. You open your eyes, hoping to spy him from the corner of your eye again, but there is nothing there. 

Once again, time has gone by and you haven’t even noticed it. You’re left breathless, and to your surprise, you want to be held by him again.

The next day, as you come into work, you lock the door behind you. You don’t want anyone coming interrupting. You step back into the shelves, going to where it grows dark. Peering into the shadows, you see a figure. It moves further away, and you give chase. You slip into the dark, leaving the shelves behind, and step cautiously as you follow, realizing that now there is nothing around you.

You stop and look back, seeing only the flickering light above. “John?” you call into the shadows. “Are you here?”

“You shouldn’t have come this far.” His voice is all around you. “This isn’t a place for you.”

“Then why did you run away?” You step forward, but it feels like you descend with each step. You turn back around and see that the shelves are above you, and the flickering light is by your foot. You gasp and step away, and you feel arms catch you. You go still, not wanting to look in case it means him going away.

John’s lips brush against your ear, and every hair on your body stands on end. It is a surprise, but you are not afraid. “I can’t hold you forever. That isn’t fair. Where I am, and where you are, we can only pass by one another.”

“I just wanted...” You stop yourself. What do you want? Not so long ago you had been afraid of the ghost in the back room, but now you’ve chased him here. What are you after? What are you hoping to find?

“Stand still. Move back,” he whispers. “Go home, and I promise I will only watch you. I promise.” His hands start to release you, but you whip around and attempt to take them back. There is nothing there, and you fall forward. You fall past the light and grab onto the cords as you start to fall. You slide down into the shadows until your feet touch the top of the shelves.

“What?” you whisper in disbelief. Looking up, there is an endless void above you, with the fluorescent light hanging down. You squint, trying to see where you had been, but you think perhaps you had never been there at all. 

“I’ve got you. Come back.” You look below you and see a mannequin stretch out its hands. You slide down off the shelf as it grabs hold of you and sets you back down on your feet.

You look into the mannequin’s nonexistent features, searching for John. “Thanks,” you murmur. “Where was I just now?”

“I can’t quite say. I never know.” He attempts to shake his head, but it falls off. You catch it, then gently place it back on the neck.

“These old things aren’t what they used to be,” John sighs.

“If you can inhabit these, can you possess anything else?” you ask curiously. 

The head twitches ,then hangs to the side. “I haven’t tried.”

You think for a long time, going over and over the crazy idea in your head. “Maybe you should try. If you’re inside someone, then maybe you could escape.”

The head bobbles and clanks back down fully onto the neck. “I don’t think it works that way. These mannequins are empty, but a person is so full. If they overflow to let me in, then who knows what could happen?”

You place your hand into the palm of the mannequin. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” The hand trembles. “I’ve never left. What if I can’t?”

You stand on tiptoes, placing your lips against the lips of the mannequin. You’re unsure why you do it - perhaps to make him be quiet, perhaps to comfort him. Whatever the reason, you feel something warm touch you. His lips graze yours, and his hand laces with your fingers. 

The mannequin collapses in front of you, and you jump back from the mess on the floor. You take a deep breath as you grasp at your chest, but something feels strange. You look down. “John?” you ask. “Are you there?” You walk out from behind the shelf. 

“I’m here.” As he speaks, you feel as if strong arms are wrapping around you. There is a quiver in your chest, almost as if there is something by your heart. You touch your fingers to your chest as John seems to wrap himself around you.

“Should we try?” you whisper.

“I’m too scared, but maybe, as long as you’re holding me, it’ll be okay.” His whisper seems to vibrate in your throat.

You go towards the door, unlocking it and stepping through. It looks dark out. You don’t know how long you were gone in that other place, but it was long enough for nightfall to come. You step out of the room and close the door behind you.

“John?” you whisper.

“I’m here.” Your hand squeezes tight. “I’m here!” He laughs, and it rumbles deep within your chest. 

“This is really strange,” you say quietly to yourself.

“Everything is so warm!” John elates. “It’s been so long.” Your arms wrap around yourself and hug tight. “I can’t remember the last time I felt such comfort. Thank you.”

Your heart begins to beat faster, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “I wasn’t sure this would work, but it seems like it’s working better than I hoped.” Your arms slip down your sides, and you gaze up at the sky.

“The moon is so big,” John whispers.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” you ask.

A cool rush of air fills your lungs, almost as if John is taking in a deep, long breath. “It’s getting dark out. You probably want to go home.”

“I’m not much for walking,” you chuckle. “But if you want to...”

“No, really, I wouldn’t mind seeing your home. Just once.”

You smile and head towards your car. “That’s fine. It’ll be nice to have company.”

Your parents luckily aren’t home. Recently they’ve been going to the casino in the town over, so you have the house to yourself. You take leftovers from the fridge for your meal, and you can feel John’s excitement course through your veins. When you take a bite, John shivers. 

“Is that good?” you ask with a smile.

“I haven’t tasted anything in...” He laughs. “Well, I think you know this already. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you in any way. I know this must be overwhelming on its own.”

“I don’t mind it. It’s not that strong.” You run your hands down your arms. “It’s like a soft embrace. It’s warm, comforting.”

You feel as if John is wrapping his arms around you again. “I feel that too,” he breathes into your ear. A shiver goes down your spine and he gasps. “What was that?”

You take a bite of food so you don’t have to answer right away.

“That felt...” He chuckles. “... really good.”

Over the next few days you take John with you wherever you go. You share long conversations about the world and how it’s changed, although John’s memory of his previous life is foggy. Sometimes something stirs in his mind, and he’ll recall small things like his favorite foods, how he enjoyed cold nights, and the scent of a perfume. It’s the first time in so long he has existed with time as he can perceive it, and you’re happy to hear him laugh and feel his warmth.

One evening while you get ready for bed, you have the shower running so it can heat up. The water heater is old and your bathroom is the farthest from it, so it takes what feels like ages. You’re tying up your hair when you feel a flutter in your chest.

“That you?” 

John hesitates, but you can feel his nerves. “Sorry, I always get nervous when you take a bath.”

You touch your fingertips to your chest. “I know it’s kind of awkward. I’m sorry you have to tag along for it.”

“It’s not that,” he murmurs. “I feel what you feel, and that awakens things in me. I didn’t feel it at first, but the more time we spend together, the shakier I feel.”

“I see,” you whisper. You look into the mirror as it begins to fog. In the shadows of the steam, you see a shape standing over you. Your heart pulses faster and you bite your lip. “I can skip the shower tonight if it makes you feel better.”

“I can control myself. It’s okay. I know you look forward to your showers, and I owe you the world.” John sounds sheepish. The shadowy figure in the steam fidgets and moves away.

Your face is flushed and your heart continues to race. You undress and step into the shower. As the water washes down your body, a shudder goes down your spine. You can feel John turning away, almost as if he’s averting his eyes.

“We’ve been together a while now,” you murmur. “I really enjoy having you around.”

“I’m eternally grateful to you,” John answers. “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me. I’m ready for the time when I have to leave.”

“What do you think will happen when you do?” you ask fearfully. “I don’t want...” You stop yourself and wrap your arms around your body. 

“I’m already gone. I died so long ago.” John’s arms are around you now. “There should be no fear of me leaving.”

“It’s different. You are here.” You slowly drag your hands down your body. “You’re with me. I can feel you. Hear you.” Your fingers slip down your sides, over your chest, your soft belly. They tremble as you rub your hips, then your thighs.

There’s a movement within you, something strong and aching. John swallows and takes a deep breath. You look up and see hand prints on the shower wall before you, big and pressed flat. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. You smooth your hands back up, cupping your breasts. “I want to share this with you.”

“I don’t know what will happen,” John breathes. “I’m scared.” 

“Just hold me, John. It’s okay.” Lips press the back of your neck and you close your eyes. His arms envelope you, wrapping you up tight as your hands move down your body again.

Your fingers slip between your thighs. John trembles, and his breath bleeds down the back of your neck. His low moan echoes in your chest, and you feel the pressure of his chest against your back. You whimper, biting your lip as your fingers rub your clit. John’s voice escapes in a quiet cry while his embrace tightens around you. 

Your fingers move further down, but it is John’s touch that moves inside you. His strong fingers slip between your folds and gently coax your molten core to flow. 

“It’s so warm,” John gasps for breath.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, but it could be his heart too. You start to sway, so you turn the shower off. “Wait,” you pant. “I don’t want to fall in the shower.”

You quickly dry off and go to bed. Turning off all the lights, you lay in complete darkness. John’s weight settles upon you and as your fingers caress down your body and his do the same. You arch your back as John touches you, his fingers easily moving back into place within you. They’re thick, stretching you open and plunging deep. Your wetness clings to him as your inner walls beckon him deeper. His breath shudders, your nipples harden, and his fingers move slowly as he takes in every sensation your body delivers. Each touch he feels, every skipped heartbeat excites him. His lips press to your cheek, your nose, your forehead. You gasp for breath and tighten around his fingers, holding him in place. John chuckles softly and his lips graze against your lips all too briefly. 

Your toes curl and you whine in pleasure. “More!”

John’s hand stills. You feel something warm upon your breast - his lips, his mouth, his tongue. You gasp and arch your back again, pressing against his mouth. You feel him all around you, but you want more than that.

“Is this alright?” John moans. “Your body… it wants more, but I am unsure.”

“It’s okay.” You stroke your hands over your chest and torso. “It’s more than okay.” John’s weight presses harder on you, and you lift your knees. There is a heat deep inside you as John gathers himself. Your fingers slowly rub your clit, and then, something moves within. 

John’s husky voice fills the air as he moans. He becomes your every sense, your every thought. You cling to the air, but his body is there. In the shadows you can almost see him, but it’s what you feel that matters.

Everything goes white. Your body, his body, are one, feeling the same thing, and it takes over. Your whole body seizes up, tightening, then flowing into a pool. You forget how to breathe as the world melts away. 

The air is cold again, and your body is sensitive to even the faint breeze. You lay limp on the mattress, slowly regaining your senses. You stretch and a warm, soft touch glides down your chest. John breathes, and tears roll down your cheeks.

You cup your face and smile. “It’s okay,” you whisper.

“I know,” John moves into your palm. “I’m just so happy, I can’t contain it.”

“I’m glad,” you roll over and feel him at your back. “I’m happy too.”

“I know,” John whispers. “I can feel it more than anything.” His tears splash against your fingertips. “It’s the best feeling in the world.”