Henry. Henry. Henry.

His name ricocheted through my head to the pulse of my rapidly-beating heart. I couldn't help but mumble a quiet, "Fuck," at the thought of my faithful boyfriend finding out what I had just done. What the hell was I thinking? Why was I so eager to throw myself at Gabe when I had someone who would gladly do anything for me? My body tensed as I recalled those weeks when Henry was so diligent and persistent to help me while my mother coped with her depression, while I became so crazy that drugs seemed to be the only logical answer, while my family's last thread that held it somewhat together was cut. I lied for hours thinking of the mistake I just made.

Then of course, Mr. I'm-So-Wonderful-Aren't-You-Glad-I'm-Your-Fucking-Brother had to pull me closer to his chest and speak directly into my ear. "Morning," he whispered, faking an incredibly believable sleepy voice. I couldn't deny how sexy and irresistible he seemed—and I rarely considered guys sexy, especially not my dead brother. His comforting heat suddenly morphed into a chilling taunt that tempted me to nestle deeper into his body, and it was then that I realized we were both still half naked. I glanced at his chest, so perfectly toned and muscular, and turned my head to see if I was still clothed.

Barely.

One of my silvery-white bra straps had fallen off my shoulder, and my jeans were pulled slightly lower than where they had been placed the day before. I stared at my limp body in disbelief. What kind of girl ends up this fucked up by her dead brother? My thoughts were quickly interrupted by a cool hand lightly dragging its way up my arm and tenderly placing my bra strap back in its proper position atop my shoulder. Although his haunting touch left me wanting more, I hastily jumped off the bed and rushed to grab a shirt. I scanned around the room until I found the shirt closest to me. As I threw it on, I could hear Gabe stifle a small laugh behind me. "And what is your problem?" I jokingly snapped at him.

"Oh, it's nothing," he responded sarcastically. "Just that you look pretty great in that outfit." I raced over to my mirror and found myself staring at a girl whose half-fallen-out ponytail was a mess, a girl whose makeup had rubbed off onto her pale-white cheeks, a girl who had thrown on her brother's giant red shirt by mistake. I quickly began to fix my hair and makeup when that familiar chill waltzed right up behind me, just centimeters away from my skin. "You know," his icy lips brushed past the back of my neck, making my hair stand on end, "you really are something else." His voice lingered by my ears as I turned to face him. Just as I was about to wittingly strike back at him, I noticed a picture on my dresser right behind him, the only picture that ever stayed in my room, a picture of me and Henry.

It was an old picture from way back when my dad used to photograph everything. I was seated at a piano in our school's practice room. Henry sat just a few feet away from me, as usual, and was apparently telling me something funny, for my head was thrown back, and my mouth hung wide open. Henry's face possessed an enormous smile as he watched my reaction to his joke. The picture was slightly blurry, and the sun shining through the window behind us discolored the rest of the room, but the photograph encapsulated one of the few days where none of this fucked-up world mattered. It was just me and Henry enjoying each other's company, living in our own little fantasy. What kind of person would leave someone as wonderful as Henry, whose imperfections made him perfect for someone like me, for someone like Gabe, who wasn't even physically alive?

I was brought back to real life by a cool hand rubbing my arm, and an apparitional body slowly drifting toward me. "Gabe, we can't do this," I snapped.

"What?" he asked slyly, only slightly serious.

"We…I…can't do this," I whispered slowly, close to tears.

Gabe's rebellious half-smile faded. "Why?"

This made me hit my breaking point. How could he not get this? The tears returned; my babbling began. I tried to explain that sister and dead brother just can't do this, but all I could end up saying was, "I can't," over and over again.

"You can't what?" he barked. "Love? Be with someone you care about? I'm damn sure you could—"

"It's not right!" I screamed through my tears, cutting him off. "If you weren't my brother, that would be vastly helpful. If you weren't dead—"

"Why does that matter so much to you? I'm here. You're here. We both feel something, something no one feels in this house." He waited for any response from me, but I couldn't speak. His voice quieted to a whisper. "Don't tell me you don't feel something, too." At first I thought he meant that I didn't return his feelings, and I tried to reject that, but he continued before I got the chance. "Everyone denies I'm here. My own father…he wouldn't even acknowledge my existence…for sixteen years. Mom was the only one who truly loved me and now she's gone. And now I'm here with you…and after last night…you're the only one who…sees me." He took a step closer.

Struggling to hold back more tears, I simply announced, "Henry." Gabe stared at me and for once in his life, he looked fragile, as if I said any more, he would fall apart right there. Gabe never was the type of guy to lose it, so seeing him like this frightened me, worried me. I couldn't look at him like this. As he began to slowly back away from me, eyes cast to the ground, I forgot every other thing in the world and froze. Gabe was leaving me. I made him want to back away from me. I was losing him. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered. I needed Gabe. Here. With me. Before I knew what I was doing, I rushed up to Gabe, threw my arms around him and pulled him close to me. Gabe's arms wrapped around my body, tightening our embrace. "Stay," I whispered through my silent tears. "Please." My face soon was lifted by strong, ghostly hands so that he could look into my eyes. Without saying a word, he leaned in and gently kissed my lips, so gently that it gave me goose bumps. My want, my need for him grew, and he could read it in my eyes.

"But first," he whispered, "let me help you make this outfit a whole lot better." With that, my brother's oversized-on-me, red shirt came floating off my skin and over my head, and ghostly fingertips ran their way to the back of my head, where my hair band was soon pulled from my hair, allowing my dark brown curls to lay on my skin. As I was pulled into an intense kiss, I could feel his hands searching their way down my back to the clasp of my bra. While the silvery-white fabric fell to the floor, and Gabe's lips traced their way down my neck, all I could see was the picture of Henry and me, but all I could think was Gabe. Gabe. Gabe.

Ahhh, intense. More to come soon guys! Please review and let me know what you think so far!