The Torn Prince passed through the room's wall. Well, he wasn't the Torn Prince anymore. That mess was over with. Now, he was just Royce Clayton; mild-mannered teenager in life; crazed, violent ghost in death. He chuckled lightly at the thought.
The sound was cut short as he saw what he'd been looking for. On the bed, in the middle of the dark room, lay a girl sprawled out over the mattress. The sheets were twisted around her limbs. She'd been having bad dreams again.
"Joey." His voice was two parts happiness at seeing her mixed with one part sorrow at seeing her in such a way.
He took a few steps closer to the bed. Looking down at her, he thought of how beautiful he was even tangled in a mass of bedclothes. He had a notion to touch her then. Just reach out a hand and pretend to feel the skin of her exposed belly or the heartbeat inside her barely covered chest. His arm almost executed the thought when he noticed it was the mangled one; the torn one. He let it drop back to his side.
Royce kneeled beside the bed, leaning in close to her ear. He needed to wake her up, but wasn't sure if he could. If he didn't do it just right, his spectral voice could merge with her subconscious, or some other mumbo jumbo like that. Either way, it wouldn't wake her up. Just induce another dream or nightmare. He took a deep, unneeded breath and focused his energy on making his voice solid. Another fake breath and he said her name again.
His voice was no better than before. He started to try again when Joey shot up in bed. She blinked and looked around quizzically. Royce stepped back from the bed a little confused. No average human brain would have registered the sound. But Joey wasn't the average human...
She stood up and stretched out wide. Royce watched, noticing all the things he shouldn't have. Joey headed for the bathroom. She was unaffected by the early hour or the fact she was in an unprotected room.
Royce stood where he was. Too gentlemanly to follow, but still roguish enough to think to think about her in the shower. When she returned, he didn't turn to look, so he didn't know she was walking right toward him. He realized it just in time to make himself empty and she was able to walk through him. He knew she'd feel a sudden coldness as she passed through, but he felt something entirely different.
It was a sudden warm tingly feeling. It reminded Royce of making love when he was alive. A shudder of pleasure went through him. It was the only physical feeling he'd had in decades and it had happened twice in the last few days. Both caused by Joey.
He suddenly remembered Joey was still in the room. The coldness had stopped her right in front of him. She turned around in his direction as if stunned. She was wearing nothing but a towel and Royce had another of those urges.
"Clayton," she said, using his last name. She was staring through him to the door.
Royce made his form solid again and put his good hand on her arm. Then he bent in close and began blowing on the damp skin of her upper chest. Goosebumps covered her flesh at the cold air. He grimaced as her hand reached up and rested on his scarred cheek. He looked at her face. Her eyes were closed and she had a pretty little smirk on her face. The corners of Royce's lips were forced to turn up as well.
"I'll make you better," Joey whispered seriously. She was unaware of how close her lips were to his.
He bit back his fierce need to kiss her before coming up with a clever, but nonetheless true, reply. With another small smile, he said, "You already do."
Lifting his ripped and twisted hand, he laid it over hers and squeezed gently. And he desperately wished he could feel the soft skin underneath.
So, what do you think? Should I expand this thing? I don't mean forwards either, but also backwards and maybe to the sides. I've got great ideas to go with it, but if no one's gonna read it, there's no real incentive to write it.
The sound was cut short as he saw what he'd been looking for. On the bed, in the middle of the dark room, lay a girl sprawled out over the mattress. The sheets were twisted around her limbs. She'd been having bad dreams again.
"Joey." His voice was two parts happiness at seeing her mixed with one part sorrow at seeing her in such a way.
He took a few steps closer to the bed. Looking down at her, he thought of how beautiful he was even tangled in a mass of bedclothes. He had a notion to touch her then. Just reach out a hand and pretend to feel the skin of her exposed belly or the heartbeat inside her barely covered chest. His arm almost executed the thought when he noticed it was the mangled one; the torn one. He let it drop back to his side.
Royce kneeled beside the bed, leaning in close to her ear. He needed to wake her up, but wasn't sure if he could. If he didn't do it just right, his spectral voice could merge with her subconscious, or some other mumbo jumbo like that. Either way, it wouldn't wake her up. Just induce another dream or nightmare. He took a deep, unneeded breath and focused his energy on making his voice solid. Another fake breath and he said her name again.
His voice was no better than before. He started to try again when Joey shot up in bed. She blinked and looked around quizzically. Royce stepped back from the bed a little confused. No average human brain would have registered the sound. But Joey wasn't the average human...
She stood up and stretched out wide. Royce watched, noticing all the things he shouldn't have. Joey headed for the bathroom. She was unaffected by the early hour or the fact she was in an unprotected room.
Royce stood where he was. Too gentlemanly to follow, but still roguish enough to think to think about her in the shower. When she returned, he didn't turn to look, so he didn't know she was walking right toward him. He realized it just in time to make himself empty and she was able to walk through him. He knew she'd feel a sudden coldness as she passed through, but he felt something entirely different.
It was a sudden warm tingly feeling. It reminded Royce of making love when he was alive. A shudder of pleasure went through him. It was the only physical feeling he'd had in decades and it had happened twice in the last few days. Both caused by Joey.
He suddenly remembered Joey was still in the room. The coldness had stopped her right in front of him. She turned around in his direction as if stunned. She was wearing nothing but a towel and Royce had another of those urges.
"Clayton," she said, using his last name. She was staring through him to the door.
Royce made his form solid again and put his good hand on her arm. Then he bent in close and began blowing on the damp skin of her upper chest. Goosebumps covered her flesh at the cold air. He grimaced as her hand reached up and rested on his scarred cheek. He looked at her face. Her eyes were closed and she had a pretty little smirk on her face. The corners of Royce's lips were forced to turn up as well.
"I'll make you better," Joey whispered seriously. She was unaware of how close her lips were to his.
He bit back his fierce need to kiss her before coming up with a clever, but nonetheless true, reply. With another small smile, he said, "You already do."
Lifting his ripped and twisted hand, he laid it over hers and squeezed gently. And he desperately wished he could feel the soft skin underneath.
So, what do you think? Should I expand this thing? I don't mean forwards either, but also backwards and maybe to the sides. I've got great ideas to go with it, but if no one's gonna read it, there's no real incentive to write it.