⊏🦷⊐ / 𝙀𝙡𝗂𝖺𝗌 ..❹

The night was as thick as ink. Outside, the trees swayed in a soundless wind, and inside the old house, only a single candle flickered. Lia had made the tea. Her cup was painted with kittens and slightly cracked. He, as always, didn't drink it. But she set it down the same way, every night. Everything had to be the same.

He was standing by the window. This time, he had taken his human form: tall, inhuman, like a shadow barely attempting to resemble flesh. His pale skin seemed to emit a chill beyond measure, and his eyes... those red eyes like bleeding coals, with a yellowish white that bore no resemblance to anything human.

But for Lia... it was enough.

"Eli... can I call you that today?" he asked with a crooked smile, holding his mug in both hands. There was no response, as almost always. He turned his head slightly. A minimal gesture.

Lia approached slowly, barefoot, shuffling along with her long sweater hanging around her knees. Her hair was loose, a little tangled. She'd forgotten to brush it. Again.

"I dreamed about you today, you know? About us. We were at the lake again... you were carrying me and I was screaming because the water was freezing. But you always said the water was 'romantically icy,' remember?" She laughed alone, then the laughter dissolved, shaky. "I... I know you're confused. That sometimes you don't feel like yourself. But it's because of the accident, right? That's why sometimes you don't remember..."

The spirit didn't respond. Its fingers—long, too thin, like those of someone built for strangling rather than caressing—tightened against the window frame.

Lia reached out and touched him. Her touch was icy, like touching a metal door in winter. But she didn't pull away. She held him tenderly. Desperately.

—I don't care if you don't remember. I do it for both of us... so it's okay. You can rest. You don't have to fight. Just stay here, with me. —He stroked her face with trembling fingers, moving up