could you love the SOL?

[Santiago]

if i were the sun
and you were the sky
i'd never set.
i'd hover above
the edge of the water
waiting for you
to shine your stars
on me so i could
become bigger
than what i am.
i am brighter
when i am with you.

- christy ann martine


He had grown accustomed to sitting on the edge of his window, staring into the night sky. Even though it was a particularly cloudy yet humid August evening, the brightness of the moon still shined through. His hand stretched passed the window, finger tips flicking the ash from the tip of his cigarette. A stream of smoke danced from his mouth into the night as if celebrating its release. Santiago's gaze flickered to the smoke but only for a moment before he closed his eyes, slumping into the window seal. His hand dropped down but his fingers kept their hold around his cigarette.

Santiago shifted slightly, drawing his legs up a little closer to his body but keeping his left arm tucked between his legs to conceal himself. The last thing he desired was his landlord getting a complaint about his public nudity from his surrounding neighbors. Or for a passerby to get a few viewing of his goods.

Raul left twenty minutes prior to him sitting at his window. The only proof of his visitation were the tousled sheets of his queen sized bed.

When they were together, tossing and turning in the throes of heat, the young man felt alive; bright even. But when it was over, it was over. There was not clinging onto one another, holding each other tight through the night. No breathlessly kissing or whispering of "I love yous".

When it was over, it was over. He had watched the other man put his uniform back on, piece by piece. No matter how many times he'd watch Raul, it was still a fascinating sight for him. It was like watching someone put a jigsaw puzzle together but it was a puzzle they had done so many times, they could do it with their eyes close. Hell, he was certain he could assemble the whole cop get up correctly despite never wearing the uniform in his life.

Santiago brought the cigarette to his lips.

"Same time tomorrow?" He'd ask him, only to be answered with a simple shrug.

He made a mental note to tell Verónica she couldn't spend the night once again. He wouldn't tell her why; then again, he never had to tell her in the first place. He could hear her cursing at him now even as he thought about it. His lips twisted up in a small smirk.

He had scooted to the edge of the bed, dropping his hands in his lap while continuing to watch the man. "But tomorrow, I'm going to have to charge you." That statement had been met with a snort.

"You're not a prostitute," Raul simply put.

Santiago then shrugged himself. "I'm startin' to think otherwise when you keep visitin' me so late..."

The other man had been securing his belt when he stopped. Even in the dark, he knew; he didn't have to see his face to know that Raul's nose had twitched. Proof this his words had stung him. And he left. No kiss on the lips. No kiss even on the cheek. Not even a goodbye. Just gone. And for a moment, he felt satisfied. He wanted his words to sting him. He wanted it to hurt him. He felt justified in doing so.

Yet, as he sat on the window's edge staring at the moon, he didn't feel so satisfied nor justified. All day every day, he spent his time giving people guidance in how to tackle life's challenges; yet, his felt immovable. Because Santiago knew, once he got the text from him, his passion once again would ignite and burn, being the only thing he thought about.

Because he knew, the minute those knuckles rapped upon his door, he was going to let him in.

[Santiago]

You are lonely

Most people wouldn't think you are
And it isn't something you would openly admit

But

You're lonely

Being by yourself makes you absolutely crazy
You start down a rabbit hole of thought and question
'Do they really like me? " "Am I really helping or harming?" "Am I good?" "Am I just good enough for a fun time?"
You try to shake your thoughts.
You burn sage.
You cleanse your energy
You even light your favorite candle.

Yet...you are lonely.

In between clients, you are checking your phone.
You are always amazed how you can help others with their romantic inclinations and disruptions
But yours is basically a dumpster fire
It stinks to be in this situation
You have been in it too long
But you love him and can barely imagine being able to love anyone else

Because you are lonely

How can you direct others in their journies but not know where you are going?
Where does it begin and where does it end ?

It's because you are lonely and you see no end to that just yet.

[Santiago]

The melodious sounds of the wind chimes echoed through out the vicinity as he opened the door to allowed the client to walk out. She had wanted to stay a little longer and chit chat, and under other circumstances, the fortune teller would have allowed her. He often enjoyed the company of his clients, some he had been known for years; others he had been introduced to after word about his practices whispered through the community. But tonight wasn't any other night; so, he ushered her out with a quickness, shallowly laughing at her little quick retorts.

Closing the door, he wrapped his brightly designed kimono around his tanned torso while his eyes scanned about the spare room, which was actually the bedroom. Hands outreached, he began to tidy up: pushing in the chairs, clearing the table of his tarot cards, before pausing at the candles. Their flames danced in anticipation: would he allow them to burn or would he snuff them out instantaneously? He closed his eyes as he glided his tongue along his index finger, ceasing the flames of both candles one after the other.

Santiago's feet padded to toward the makeshift bedroom/living room, fluffing up the pillows and tossing the throw over the back of the couch. Running his fingers through his hair, he paused only for a moment to allow himself to breathe and somewhat compose himself. Rubbing the back of his head, his feet carried him over toward his next designation. The end table held his cellphone, plugged in and chugging away at the charge provided. His finger pressed the home button, lighting it up. 6:55 pm flashed before him.

The man fluttered over to the door and opened it immediately. And there he stood in all his glory.

Raul had his hand, balled up and outstretched, ready to rap upon his door. His face, for a brief moment, was one of surprised but it quickly faded away, being replaced with a knowing look. They both stood there, shaking their heads but chuckling all the same.

Santiago wrapped his kimono around his body once more before he folded his arms across his chest. Raul's eyes wandered down the other's body without shame, coming to a stop at his folded his arms. His hand stretched out to swipe at the arms, which unfolded with little resistance. Soon, his fingers worked to peel open the kimono, grazing their feathery touch along the golden brown skin underneath before pressing palm first into his abdomen.

The slightly taller gentleman pushed the other back into the house as his lips caught his in a lingering kiss. His freed hand, pushing the door closed behind them.

[Santiago]

"I just want to hear from him one more time," she told you.

"I just want to know he's alright."

"I just want to know if it's him I'm feeling," and she was certain it was but she just wanted confirmation.

You usually don't do this. Tarot reading, yes. Palm reading, yes. If it was really truly needed, even energy cleansing but this....

But she begged you. The tortured mother showed you picture after picture of her sweet sweet boy. And you felt sorry for her.

Who wouldn't want a chance to know a love one is okay?

Who wouldn't want to communicate with the dead one last time?

So, you attempted and you weren't sure it would work; but, your powers have been feeling different lately. You've found yourself less reliant on context clues or physical giveaways and started to rely on pure, unfiltered (perhaps previously untapped) power.

So yes, you try it. And yes, you hid that you weren't sure it worked. Yes, you lied to her to ease her spirit because she and you knew that she only came to hear what she wanted to hear. For her, the truth was just the lie she needed to move on from the pain and grief that came along from an unexpected and unexplained death. It was your job to give that to her.

You did your job and you did it well.

The image of him was seared into your mind and you couldn't shake it out. The air in your apartment felt chilly and unease. You felt static-y. Your mind wasn't clear, which meant you didn't have it in you to properly cleanse your surroundings. Taking a walk always seemed to do the trick.

You put on your shoes and grab your keys. You didn't care that you left the house in your kimono or that you had forgotten to put a shirt on underneath. At least you had decent pair of jean shorts on your lower half. You whisked down the stairs because the idea of standing in the elevator terrified you for some strange reason.
You barrelled down two flights of stairs until your eyes met the sight of steel doors; light poured through the small window opening. You so desired to be in its sights, to be in its warmth. You pushed your way out and let out the breath you hadn't realized you'd be holding. You breathed in and out deeply, closing your eyes with your hands dropped to the side.

There you stood. Your ears caught every sound the busy neighborhood created in the evening. You didn't stand for long, you don't think. Once you felt like you caught your bearings, you turned to the right to start down the sidewalk but smacked right into someone.

"****, **** ****, excuse me...I didn't..." You began but stopped.

His bright hazel eyes bore into your brown and all the words you could think of went out the window. Mute, you were rendered completely. The photo his mother showed you didn't do him justice as he stood in front of you.

"How's my mum?"

You were today years old when you saw your first ghost, unknowing he wouldn't be your last.

[Santiago]

The first time he saw him, the sight of him sent him running back into his apartment so quickly; he swore he transformed into the Flash. He even hopped over multiple steps at a time, feet barely touching the concrete of the apartment's usually humid stairway. He didn't think to turn back. He didn't think for a second. He just....ran. He ran back to the safety of his home, slamming the door and locking it immediately. Placing his hands above his head, Santiago took deep breaths because no one likes the burning sensation of lungs in desperate need of air.

Curse after curse fell from his lips as he spun around slowly to take in the sight of his living space. He mostly was checking to see if the ghostly male had tagged along. He paused, figuring it was better not to think of him unless he somehow invites his presence upon himself.

Once composed to a certain extent, his feet carried him about for supplies.

He had spent the rest of the day and into the night reciting and blessing his space while begging for protection.

But that was a week ago.

He tried to carry on as if everything was fine. He continued to take clients. He hung out with Veró. He fucked Raul two or three times in that time period too. But every night, he blessed his space and begged for protection.
Santiago couldn't remember the last time he stepped outside and felt the sun's warmth upon his skin. Opening the windows into his studio was proving to be quite lacking, despite the heat the summer brought in. He wasn't the most outdoorsy person but the sun and the breeze...the smell of fresh air..the sight of people living...he missed it. He missed their energies.

So on September 1st, the young man finally left his apartment. Of course, there was precaution taken. Instead of going down the stairway leading to the street, he opted to visit the courtyard and sent on the bench. That way he could listen to the business of life and smell the fruit of the bees' productivity. A week out of sun left him feeling conscious about his skin and its need for vitamin D. And while most would say otherwise, he swore he was paler too.

Santiago eased himself onto the once green but now white bench and sighed. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, holding in the swirling fragrances of flowers within himself. He could feel the rays beating down on his face and his skin drank in every moment over it. First the first time in a week, he felt truly settled. His mother frequently reminded him the importance of keeping in touch with the sun. Nature's medicine. But never too much because even a good thing can become bad in large quantities.

His back sank into the structures while he honed in on the honking of cars mingling in the air with chirping of birds. And if he focused hard enough, he could even hear the distant chatter of people.

But then....the hairs of his right hair began to stand up as a chill crept upon his skin. The sensation was enough to shake him out of his trance. The young man opened his eyes and from the corner of his eye, he saw movement. At first, he figured he had zoned out so much, he hadn't noticed a newer presence. It wouldn't have been unusual for a neighbor to join him. He attempted to know them and befriend them, if they welcomed such. Yet when he turned his head, his eyes met the familiar hazel gaze he had seen the week before.

"Please don't run away again," he whispered, reaching out to touch his forearm, " I just want to know how she's doing."

He gulped, "Your mama...?"

The male nodded. "I followed her to you. I know what you are. I know that's why you can see me. Please just tell me."

Santiago inched his arm away in order to clasp his hands together, hunching over to rest his elbows on his thighs. Quiet for a second, he simply replied, " You know, Matthieu. You've seen her. How else is she suppose to be after losing her only child?"

"...I don't know. I mean...I'm still here. She knows that, right?"

He nodded. They sat in silence for what seemed like eons.

"Can you tell her something for me?" Matthieu finally spoke up.

"I already did," he glanced over to him, seeing the confusion on his face. Santiago chuckled sorrowfully then closed his eyes, turning his face toward the sun.

"I told her you love her very much."

[Santiago]

But we're never gonna survive, unless
We get a little crazy
No we're never gonna survive, unless
We are a little crazy

Your hand swept across the fogged bathroom mirror, half expecting to see someone standing behind you. But it only revealed a very wet you. It had been a couple months since you got a haircut; so, your curls flopped along your forehead in all their glory. You loved them; your curls. You weren't the only one who did:

Your mother did.
Raul did.
Veró did too because she liked to pull them when you irritated her- which was all the time.
Matthieu did as well.

And so did the other twenty or so dead people you've encountered since making contact with Matthieu. But you didn't dare to think of their names. You didn't want them to take that has an invitation to show up in your home, especially in your bathroom while you were in your nude glory. You could think of him though; Matthieu, because you two had finally made an arrangement with your visiting hours. After he had showed up once while you were doing a reading and another time while you were....rather tangled with Raul, enough had been enough for you.

It was all you could do the manage the craziness that had now been introduced to your life. It was your own fault and you knew this. You couldn't blame anyone else. Spirit told you not to open the door. It was a door you weren't prepared for nor had you taken the time to do so. Your heartstrings were tugged because you couldn't help but to associated Matthieu's mother's pain with that of your own mom's. After all, you were her only son as well. The idea of leaving before her...you knew that was never her wish. She'd tell you that herself. You always wanted you to outlive her.

But you were barely making it at this point. You almost got hit by a car two days ago in your attempt in saving a child, who turned out to already be dead.

You went to visit your mom and your abuela yesterday, meeting your abuelo for the first time in your life. He'd been dead since before you were born.

Your neighbor probably would have had you committed when they caught you yelling to "no one" had you not lied and assured them you were practicing for an audition because you decided to try your hand in acting this morning. In reality, you were being pestered by multiple ghosts, begging you to send messages to their various family members. And enough was enough.

But this was your life now, staring into your mirror, checking to make sure no one was there to ask you to deliver a message from the grave. Setting up visiting hours so your appointments with your living clients didn't collide with those of the dead. Who would have thought you'd need a "do not disturb" talk so you weren't scared lifeless during what was suppose to be the most satisfying part of sex (thanks for that, Matthieu).

Crazy, right? You stare at yourself, hands gripping the sides of your sink. Were you crazy now? When you began this whole tarot reading business at the beginning, half of it was just intuition and the other half was observation. Sometimes you shocked yourself but didn't think you had any actual power. Now, you're conversing with ghosts. Only crazy people see ghosts.

"Maybe, you are crazy..." you whispered to yourself. That or something more?

[Santiago]

You're no Demi Moore but Matthieu could give Patrick Swayze a run for his money.

You don't know if this is love or lust. Perhaps when you're constantly starving for love and affection, even attention from a ghost could satisfy. You don't know how it happened. Maybe it's always seeing those hazel eyes. Perhaps it's Matthieu's willingness to simply be there for you. Sure, there are physical limitations to your relationship. He's a ghost. But you swear you can feel him on your skin sometimes. Or even the fact when he looks at you --really looks at you- he barrels deep into your soul. Nothing can compare to the welling excitement when your skin tingles at the chill, because you know he's near.

You're no Demi Moore but Matthieu could give Patrick Swayze a run for his money.

You don't expect to be running off into the sunset with him. You can't even imagine spending the rest of your life like this. One day, he'll have to move on and you're going to have to let him. So, you soak up every moment that you have with him. You speak to him whenever you have the chance. You even got yourself airpods so you can speak freely to him without looking crazy while out in public. The things you would do for him.

You're no Demi Moore but Matthieu could give Patrick Swayze a run for his money.

Matthieu and Raul; they were night and day of each other. Everything you wished you could emotionally and mentally get from Raul, Matthieu freely gave to you. All the things you wished you could experience physically with Matthieu was always fulfilled by Raul. Some moments, when you were by yourself, you thought about the both of them and you become sick to your stomach. Were you using them? There was just so much history between you and Raul; the thought of giving it up made your bones ache. But in the same way, the idea of letting go of Matthieu felt the same. Individually, they couldn't sustain you but together, you got everything you needed.

....You're definitely no Demi Moore.