The visits - Jean had been having them for months now after his confidant had left him permanently, just like in those awful dreams that haunted him during their living time together. Marco would occasionally screw with the curtain or shut the college student's laptop off while he was working on something. Although it pissed him off to no end, Jean knew that these things only happened because Marco cared and wanted his presence to be known. The two would have little talks late into the night, and tonight happened to be one of those nights. Jean headed down into the dim basement, relaxed on the couch, and waited until there was a sign. A few minutes passed and the entity that was Marco made his appearance by tugging on one of those shaggy brown strands of hair.
"Hey, watch it!" Jean swatted, but quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to hurt the spirit because he was from another dimension. "Jean, you should know you can't cause me any harm by now. It may be the other way around for me, though. Watch out, horseface." Marco chuckled. He wriggled his way onto the couch and submerged his friend in the benign warmth that was himself. There was silence. Just being around each other was enough, and Jean didn't need anything more than that. He was grateful. "I need to tell you something.. Just promise to stay with me when I'm explaining it to you, alright?" Marco said more softly and listened to the sound of Jean's heartbeat. "I'm dead - you know that. And I'm not exactly in heaven. I might be going to hell, Jean. I can't tell you why or how this is happening but this might be my last visit if we don't do something about it." The young man's voice took on a darker tone, and his best friend and lover had to snap out of his half-asleep state.
"Marco, if this is one of your pranks, you better cut it out right now." Jean yawned, sitting up. "It's not a prank. I don't mean to be a braggart, but I know a lot more than you do. I know a lot more than the rest of them do. Every one of our souls, from the moment we're conceived, is predestined. It doesn't matter how good a person you are; you could still be sent to hell. This might be my case." Marco tried to explain the odd situation to the man sitting next to him. "How, Marco? You're the best person I know and I mean it. Nothing you've ever done, ever, that I know about could send you down to the fiery pits of hell. April is over, so quit fooling!" The brown-haired man objected. Pshh, how ridiculous. Marco? Hell? Those two words would never even be used in the same sentence. They clashed - Marco was so nice and smart, and hell was so sinister and evil.
"Jean Kirschtein, this situation is grave and I mean it! I'm not fooling or fibbing. I don't know if there's some kind of way we can fix this, but purgatory certainly isn't pretty. It's weird - it's sort of like a dirty New York subway but with millions of lost souls, some that look as if they don't even belong there. I guess I'm one of them..." Marco did his best to help Jean understand what purgatory was. God, it must be so tough explaining hell and purgatory to a mortal. Hmph.
"If there was something I could do for you, I'd gladly do it, but you're in another dimension and all you can do is mess with my blinds! What's the point of you even visiting me anymore? It's not like we can touch or anything!" That statement stung Jean as the words flew out, but it stung Marco even more. Jean was impatient, tired, and sick of it all. He was depressed, and his classes really drained him. But was that really an excuse to diss his best friend like that? "You know what? Come back and find me when you figure it out, Marco."
"Goodbye, Jean."
The room fell silent, and a strong chill loomed over Jean as goosebumps began to appear on his arms. "Way to go, Kirschtein." He muttered to himself. "Damn, you're as cold as ice."