I can feel him trying to escape. It's only happened a few times.
But tonight he leaks out.
He finds a way through my haunted eyes.
But today it's different.
My best friend doesn't try to break away.
He clouds around me, lingering.
An infection, a spreading disease.
His visible form creeps up over me.
But he's not a hologram. Or a phantom.
He's tangible. Real.
I can't speak. I see my hands turn transparent as I reach out to touch his face. I'm the ghost.
He doesn't smile, or blink, or breathe really. But what he does next I'll never forget.
He kissed me. Lightly. Sweetly. Before then I hadn't had a single thought about him that way.
Back when he was alive, just implying things like that would get you shot for being a "gay ass nigga."
But we weren't in New York. Or Miami. Hell, we weren't even in the United States!
I didn't know where we were. Or rather, where he took me.
But it was magic.
That night he loved me more than anyone had ever done in my life.
After a time I forgot who he was, who I was, because after a time it doesn't matter.
I was too overwhelmed by the emotions and the wonderful feelings we shared.
He was a part of me.
I was a part of him.
Even when he left me, cold, bare, and alone, I knew I would never forget the day he turned the tables on me.
Man to ghost.
Predator to prey.
Friends to lovers.