Love Kills (Dnf Short Story)

Shadows or Illusions?

A Month Later...

I've started to picture things. Not normal things, though.

A shadow.

The shadow is like a person. They've been picking up my clothes in my room, one at a time, and they've been tucking me in at night. Every night, I become more willing to sleep, yet I still refuse. I know that's what they're trying to do; trying to get me to sleep. They come and whisper to me every once in a while. They'll whisper things like, "It's okay now, hush hush," and "Try to get some sleep, hun. You'll feel better." I don't talk to the shadow though, knowing that if I do, I might go insane. The shadow seems okay with that though as it seeps back into the corner of my room, sitting peacefully where a chair should be. Maybe I should get a chair for that corner.

As day's pass by, I notice that the shadow is getting more features, as if it's getting stronger. What started as a greyish apparition, is now a hazy, tan, and 3D person's silhouette. I'm a little confused, but I still go with it anyway, trusting the figure. The weird thing is that, I never once second guess or question the translucent person. It's almost as if I've met the person before and they've just come by to help me tidy up my house and tuck me in at night. It's rather domestic.

Another week passes by and now the tan silhouette suddenly has a loud and clear voice. I recognize the voice quite well, but again I don't question a thing. The urge to sleep is undoubtedly getting worse and worse. Every night the 'person' comes in to tuck me away, they whisper a gentle, "Sleep well, Clay." and add a little peck on my forehead.

I'm waiting for the night... it all stops... along with me.

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Two and a Half Months Since George's Death...

The sun blares through my now open curtains. I remember clearly closing them the previous night after using the bathroom. My eyes sting from lack of sleep and the golden sunlight peering into my clean room isn't helping much at all. I turn my back to the sun which begins to warm my back ever so slightly. I yawn, and try to close my eyes but I'm abruptly interrupted.

"Wake up sleepy head! Breakfast is ready!" I spring from my pillow, instantly giving me a regretful headache. Looking around my room in panic, I finally spot my friendly little ghost. However, they- He isn't much of a ghost anymore. I ever so clearly see fluffy dark brunette hair that reminds me of some type of chocolate frosting. Next, I spot gorgeous brown eyes which were as sweet looking as running honey. I continue to stare at the handsome guy in front of my bed, leaning against the doorway's trim. Watching how his eyes follow mine, looking up and down his body.

"G-George?" I speak hoarsely. Even though I've had the little shadow to talk to, or even myself to talk to, I've refused. So, it's no shock when my once smooth voice is layered in voice cracks and is a mere whisper.

"Yes?" He says back in his amazing rich accent. I can't help but feel put off by this. Randomly, someone who you thought was dead, long gone, is in your room telling you that breakfast is ready. No one's brain could replicate that, right? This had to be real, right?

I hastily get up at a very fast pace, ignoring the unpleasant pain that shoots up my legs and back, or the black squiggly lights that dotted back and forth in my sight. I can feel tears pouring as fast as the rain on the day I thought George died. I don't even care that I'm shirtless and that my ribs are poking out grossly. All I care about is that George is here, in my room, right now.

I scoop him into a hug, he's real. He feels real. His body is warm, his stomach is growling from missing out on breakfast, his eye lashes flutter against my neck as he leans into the hug and embraces back.

"What's wrong, Clay?" George asks curiously. He's completely unaware of the pain and depression I had been going through over the two months. I simply smile and separate us from each other. A yawn finds its way out my mouth and I taste the salty tears that are leaking from my eyes.

"Nothing, nothing is wrong." I smile in hopes of assuring George I was truly okay. He smiled back and gently rubbed his thumb across my under eye. He left his hand on my pale cheek for a few moments, just long enough for me to lean into his warm touch and to stare into his golden eyes. Admiring every last bit of him. When he lets go and turns away I stand there dumbly as if when he walked off he took my last breath with him.

I awake from my daze and soon follow him to the kitchen and to the dining room table which had a delicious meal of pancakes (of course the European style, but of course I didn't mind) and eggs. He even cooked the eggs how I loved them, scrambled with a bit of cheese sprinkled on top. He pulls out a chair for me and I take a seat, immediately digging into the warm plate of food in front of me. I glance up to see him sit and pick up his fork and begin picking away slowly at his food. It feels odd that I could just hear his stomach growl yet he's barely touching his food.

"Are you alright, George?" I question him carefully. I can't let whatever happened last time happen again. Not ever.

He just gives me a nod and scoops up a bit of egg to eat. I peer at him in distrust. Is he being honest? Is that what he's always done? Normally he ate more than that, right?

"Are you sure? This is super delicious, figured you would be gobbling it down." I pester. I know I'm being nosy, but he just got me out of bed after months. I should be allowed to ask some questions, yeah?

"Yes, Clay, I'm sure. Just don't worry about me, let me take care of you." He states clearly. He sounds bothered and I instantly say sorry before going back to my plate of food. He simply waves me off, like it was no biggy and goes back to eating too.

This whole morning feels like a domestic marriage. George has been by my side at all times, pushing me to be better and to start taking care of myself again. I comply, since I don't want to upset him in any way. He made sure I showered (which was much needed. My hair practically damp with grease and my skin grimy from sweat), he made sure I ate all meals (no matter how sick I felt after), drank water, and even helped me come up with some video ideas (I needed to get something posted soon or people might actually lose their minds).

I can't even explain how thankful I am that he came back.