Falling Through

by Ofelia Grand

  He rolled his shoulders and fixed the collar on his leather jacket before he went into the living room.

  His steps faltered at the sight of Travis furiously wiping tears off his face. They’d lived together for two years now, and not once had Travis cried. There had been times when Larry might have shed a tear or two if he’d been in Travis’s shoes, but Travis hadn’t.

  He hovered by the sofa. Oh, this is awkward. Should he sit down next to Travis? Larry had never been good at comforting people, and being invisible hadn’t helped him develop the skill. Maybe he should check the kitchen instead, give Travis a moment to collect himself.

  Larry huffed. How the hell would he know he needed to collect himself? It wasn’t as if he was aware of Larry’s presence.

  He made it halfway through the room, the kitchen door clear in view, when something banged and shattered right next to his head. Larry ducked—silly, since whatever Travis had flung through the air had already hit the previously scarred wall. The soft yellow colour on it had been lovely a few years ago—maybe ten…Larry had a hard time remembering—but since then, there had been several tenants.

  A shard from Travis’s coffee cup skidded over the floor and came to a stop right where Larry intended to put his foot. A few brown drops trickled down the paintwork—yet more evidence of a life lived inside these walls. Larry sighed. He tried not to let the melancholia get a grip on him, but after sixty years of staring at the same walls, he sometimes wondered why he still was here.

  Decades without anything to do, without any goals or challenges, without someone to talk to. He’d talked plenty over the years, but he never got any response.

  Travis was resting his head in his hands, and against his better judgement, Larry went over. He threw himself on the sofa and put his feet on the table, the black-and-white brogues still as polished as they’d been that day so long ago when everything had changed. Larry figured he was one of the best-looking eighty-year-olds alive—or whatever he was.

  “So, what’s going on?” He put his arms behind his head and stretched out on the sofa. He picked the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one out. It always soothed him to feel a cigarette resting on his lips. He couldn’t light it, couldn’t taste it, but the motion was comforting. “Rough day at work? Because, let me tell you, my day wasn’t a picnic, either. You don’t fool around in the Nothingness.” He tsked and shook his head. “You wouldn’t last a day, kid.”

  Then he eyed Travis. He probably was a little older than Larry had been when he’d died, but Travis couldn’t hear him, so he couldn’t oppose the kid comment, anyway. And, come to think about it, Larry was old enough to be his grandfather even if he didn’t look it or feel it. Time passed was simply that; Larry hadn’t aged, he couldn’t even say he’d changed his way of thinking over the years, though it was hard to know, of course.

  “So, anything good on TV today? We could grab a beer and watch a movie.” Larry laughed. If only he could have a beer.

  He glanced in Travis’s direction and almost choked on the air he’d breathed in.

  Travis watched him. His brow softly creased as if his red-rimmed eyes strained to see. It looked like he was trying to figure something out. Scary how he looked Larry straight in the eye. Larry didn’t move, he hardly dared to blink, but then he lifted his hand and waved it in front of Travis’s eyes.

  ***

  A soft puff of air wafted over Travis’s face. Startled, he looked around. Where did that come from? He’d thought he’d seen—but, of course, he hadn’t. He blinked one more time to make sure he hadn’t. I’m going mad.

  First, the man this morning, then the fire, and now he was seeing things? Had he been sleepwalking this morning? Travis sat up a little straighter. He should probably seek help. What if he was a danger to the other tenants? What if he set the house on fire?

  He was losing it, had to be, because no matter what he did today, he had the feeling of not being alone. And he was alone. He’d checked the flat enough times to prove he truly was insane. He’d even searched the cupboards in the kitchen.

  “Erm…hello?” Why he spoke to an empty flat, he didn’t know. A shiver went down his spine. What if someone really is here? “Oh, God, I’m going mad for real.” Travis started laughing. It was probably just as well. If he got lucky, he'd get food, a roof over his head and a cute boyfriend in a straitjacket at the loony bin.

  A quick glance at the clock told him he needed to get going if he was to make it to the Speckled Hen in time. It was only for a few hours—they closed early on Sundays—but it still gave him some money. He got up and went to the bedroom.

  He needed to talk to Michael about getting more shifts. Now he didn’t have the job at the hotel anymore, he needed every penny he could get. The lump was back in his throat, but he did his best to ignore it—no use in feeling sorry for himself.

  His bank account was empty. It was always empty, and it couldn’t get any emptier. All he had left was his tip money—a few bills in his wallet.

  He would have to flirt a little extra with the ladies tonight. Playing along for a while often gave a bigger tip. As it was now, he didn’t have money for food, so what was a little flirting? He’d worked so hard, but no matter what he did, he’d have to choose between having a roof over his head or eating regularly.

  Travis pushed down whatever emotions were threatening to grab a hold of him. There was no time to wallow in self-pity. He’d been naïve to think he would make it without an education. He’d assumed people wouldn’t care once they realised he was a good worker, but most of them said they couldn’t hire him because he’d never finished school, and the few that would give him a job saw the opportunity to pay a salary lower than anyone could be expected to live on.

  He’d made his bed and now he was lying in it. He didn’t know of any other twenty-three-year-old who lay sleepless worrying about money. The bitterness held a familiar taste, but, as always, he tried to swallow it down and be grateful. He still had a place to live.

  If he could convince Michael to give him a couple of lunch shifts at the pub on a regular basis then maybe he could eat something. Lunch shifts didn’t give nearly as much in tips as the nights did, but he would still get paid, and with some luck, there would be a wrong order he could help himself to. Warm food would be nice.

  ***

  Larry watched the black screen on the TV. Couldn’t Travis have left it on? He remembered one time, when Travis had rushed off to work without turning it off, it had been one of the best days in Larry’s life—or rather, in his death.

  A crumpled paper with some jotted-down numbers lay on the coffee table. Larry sighed as he recognised Travis’s almost manic behaviour of counting his money. It was always about money. Travis’s earlier outburst about going mad was probably about money, too. He must be in huge debt or something.

  He earned much more than Larry’s entire family had back in the 1950s, and yet he was unable to live off the money he got. The value couldn’t have changed that much in sixty years, could it? Larry smoothed out his hair. Things did seem a lot more expensive now than they had when he’d been out and about, but still.

  He had to admit he found it hard to believe sweet, quiet Travis had debts. It didn’t matter if he did. Larry wanted to help him, which was stupid, since he couldn’t do anything—he wasn’t allowed to.

  He shook a cigarette out of the pack, rolling it between his fingers before raising it to his lips. He wanted to stay with Travis, wanted to sit next to him on the sofa, wanted to reach out and touch him. Even if he could never touch Travis, he wanted to spend his time watching him.

  Larry didn’t care much for people’s appearance these days. Everyone on TV had an unreal look about them, but Travis was nothing like those people.

  Larry’s favourite thing in the whole world was summer nights. If the temperature was high enough, Travis went to bed naked. Larry spent those nights lying close to him, memorising every little ridge, every dimple. Had he been able to, he
would’ve turned on the lights and mapped out every tiny little birthmark, every scar marring his skin. And no, it didn’t make him weird. Shadows did that…probably. What else would they do at night?

  Larry slumped on the sofa. He didn’t know much. He didn’t know how anything worked anymore, didn’t know what he was allowed to do, and not allowed to do, and he couldn’t very well ask anyone.

  But it didn’t matter. Sixty years he’d been loitering in this flat. Sixty years without a purpose—disheartening, if he let himself think of it. It was time he took some responsibility. If he and Travis were going to continue to live here, he needed to help out somehow. He would stop moping around and actually do something, even if it meant he would be sapped and had to spend some time in the Nothingness.

  For Travis’s sake, he would risk it. He would try to help make their situation better. Travis wasn’t going to lose their flat, he would make sure of it, even if there only was a ghost of a chance he could make a difference.

  Feeling more energised than he had in a long time, Larry got to his feet. The only question was what he could do. He’d be the perfect pickpocket, since no one could see him, and it would be so cool. He and Travis had watched a documentary about a pickpocket once, and Larry had wanted to try it ever since. But Travis never brought anyone over, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate Larry stealing from his friends. If he doesn’t know where the money comes from… Larry could maybe sneak a few extra bills into his tip money before Travis sat down to count it.

  It would all be a lot easier if he could touch things and maybe go outside, of course.

  Retro Men and Mirrors

  The hot water cascaded down Travis’s shoulders, washing away the pub smell. He turned the handle to make the water even hotter. Mist filled the bathroom and some of the tension seeped out of him.

  Michael had promised to call him as soon as a shift became free, but for now, he couldn’t give him any more than the weekend nights he already had, which meant he was free for the next four days. Free, he scoffed. He would spend every fucking minute worrying about money and respond to every suitable work ad he could find.

  He reached for the shower gel, sighing as he realised he wouldn’t make it to the end of the month without having to buy more. His skin turned slippery as he worked up a lather, fingers skidding over sensitive areas.

  His cock stirred, and for a moment, he simply looked down at it, amazed it had the energy to even twitch. Clearly, it wasn’t connected to the rest of his body. He closed his eyes and leaned against the cool wall. His hand slid up and down the soap-slicked length, sending waves of shivers through his body.

  Too tired to work up an intriguing fantasy, he concentrated on the sensation, heat and pressure, warm humid air and tingles chasing away the aches in his muscles. Pleasure built as he sped up, wave after wave washing over him. He cupped his balls, rolled them, and tightened his grip on his cock. A moan echoed in the shower stall as his muscles strained, his hips bucking uncontrollably. Then he flew apart.

  It was over too quickly, too unceremoniously, but he hadn’t had the energy to make it last. The water washed away all evidence of the climax while Travis stood panting under the spray.

  He gave himself a few minutes to recover and then turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Shivering as the cold air swept over his skin, he reached for the towel and glanced at the mirror.

  Travis froze.

  There, in the foggy reflection, was a man. Not himself, but a dark-haired man with a James Dean hairstyle.

  Had Travis been able to, he probably would’ve screamed, but instead, he stood there naked and shivering. I’m going crazy. His heart sped up. There was no one else in the bathroom, no one standing beside him. There couldn’t be anyone in the mirror, yet the dark-hazel eyes in the mirror watched him with a heated gaze. Even in the misty image, Travis could see the man’s black long lashes. The reflection’s full lips moved as if speaking.

  I’m going mad. He grabbed the towel and rushed out of the bathroom, leaving wet footprints in his wake. Once he made it to his bedroom, he quickly dried his hair and jumped into bed, hardly any drier than when he’d exited the shower. It didn’t matter. He was going to sleep, and then tomorrow, he’d go over his budget again. He squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps, if he only ate twice a day, he would be okay with only working the weekends.

  He opened his eyes a fraction, his heart pounding in his chest, but there were no handsome retro men in sight.

  ***

  Larry sat down on the floor next to Travis’s bed, his erection still straining in his jeans. Travis had seen him, and he had seen Travis. He let out a laugh. He had seen Travis plenty of times, Larry loved watching him in the shower, but this was the first time Travis had seen him.

  It had been easy, a little draining, but still. All he’d done was focus his energy on the reflection instead of trying to make himself solid. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t tried it before. He shook his head at his own stupidity. Projecting a picture proved far easier than making his whole body corporeal.

  After a few minutes, it became uncomfortable sitting in the same position, and he crawled up next to Travis on the bed. Good thing Travis always slept on one side, leaving plenty of room for Larry. He liked lying there, pretending Travis knew he existed. Sometimes, he even reached out to touch him, but not until he’d fallen asleep. Larry wasn’t a pervert. Touching Travis when he was awake but unable to do anything about it seemed wrong.

  Today, Travis lay awake, his eyes wide open in the dark. Larry was about to move a little closer when something pulled at him. Frowning, he tried to resist, but it only intensified the more he fought it.

  Much like a dust bunny being sucked in by a vacuum cleaner, Larry was sucked out through the house wall. The icy shards in his gut had him clenching his teeth, and the nausea that followed didn’t help matters. He didn’t think shadows could throw up, but it didn’t stop him from swallowing, time and time again.

  Seconds later, he found himself inside the thick stone walls of the Ministry. The cold air had him shivering, not because he was freezing—shadows didn’t—but because of the atmosphere. He’d only ever been there once, right after he’d died, but he’d never forgotten it.

  The dark-grey walls were towering over him. The narrow stained glass windows didn’t do much to lighten the room, especially not now when it was dark outside. A thick red carpet led up to the podium where Queen Loraine was waiting.

  Larry glanced at the twelve robe-clad shadows flanking the wall—the ministers. They, too, were something he’d never forget.

  Queen Loraine cleared her throat, and he forced himself to move closer to the podium and the throne-like chair she was seated in even though he desperately hoped for an escape.

  He straightened his back, fighting the urge to reach up and make sure his hair hadn’t been too badly tangled from the flight over. Loraine glared at him. She wore the same impressive long dress with matching bonnet and gloves she had on his last visit. Her dark locks curled over her flawless forehead. She was terrifyingly beautiful with her heart-shaped face and pale skin, but something was very off with her.

  “We’ve recently received information about a barrier breach in your part of town.”

  No hello or anything, just a hard glare in his direction. “My part of town?”

  Her porcelain skin wrinkled into a frown, and Larry fought the urge to back away. Gone was the beauty, her eyes were blazing, and it wouldn’t have surprised Larry to see fangs in her mouth—not that he believed in vampires.

  “Don’t play smart with me!” Her sharp voice bounced off the stone walls, and Larry winced. “We know you breached the barrier. You are well aware of the rules.”

  “I…” Larry didn’t know what to say. Was it illegal to show himself in the mirror? “Erm…with all due respect, Ma’am? I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” Larry stood a little straighter, but he couldn’t ignore the fear pooling in his stomach.

  “We tol
d you during your inaugural rite not to interfere.”

  Inaugural rite? Larry certainly didn’t remember it as a rite, more like a meet-up with the judge, jury, and executioner before he’d even found his bearings in this new existence. They’d condemned him to spend eternity locked up in his home. Back then, he’d been glad not to be dead, but it had changed many times over the years.

  “I haven’t interfered.” He broke eye contact. He had interfered, but there was no way she could know. How the hell could she know anything about what he had done?

  “We’ve received a report stating you broke the barrier to wake a mortal from his sleep.”

  Oh, that… “I’m not allowed to do that? He didn’t see me or anything, I simply didn’t want him to be late for his work.”

  “You will be punished.”

  “Punished?” Larry swallowed. Can she punish me? He’d believed once he’d been placed in his building, there was nothing anyone could do to him.

  “Yes, you’ll spend three days in the Nothingness.”

  “You can’t do that!” Panic rose inside of him. He wanted to claw at his chest where his heart should’ve been beating.

  “I claimed you! You are mine, mine to do with as I choose. Three days in the Nothingness will teach you to obey my rules.”

  “No!” The pressure in his chest made it impossible for him to mask the fear lacing his voice.

  “This city is under my command and has been for over two hundred years. I make the rules, you obey.” She waved her delicate hand, and one of the ministers floated towards him. Larry wanted to run; every muscle in his body screamed for him to get out of there. The closer the man came, the stronger the feeling got.

  He looked into the pale-blue eyes mostly hidden under the black hood. The glee in the man’s gaze made him take a step back, but before he could go anywhere, bony fingers dug into his shoulder.

  It took a fraction of a second for Larry to realise the shout ringing in the room came from his own lips.