Three Phantoms of You [bxb]

Eyes on Him

Nolan:

Holy shit. It is him.

All lights became just a specter of unforseen imagination. I'm nowhere in the dark haze my agony begs to escape from, but rather somewhere I only perceive as an illusion of how it feels to live in the living—no, someone I know who reminds me that a cruel one exists in the living.

Kiev

His wiry, picturesque figure isn't all unfamiliar to me, especially if you've been accustomed to watching someone like him sleep every night.

Don't think of it as some sort of stalker shit. I'm just used to analyzing every phantom of his to resolve questions that he has left me. Honestly, how can a person be so incompetent at folding into the acuities of love? Does it hurt to fight to feel it instead? Because he is far from what they say love to be. He's incapable of it. No one is known to be heartless as long as you realize that your heart has other purposes than to live. You have to be merciless in love to be deemed one.

Heartlessness sounds definitive, I know; however, that's what we use in the spectating world when someone integrates love as a child's play. We all exist to endure watching every type of love, not heartbreak. And how does one even sleep lightly without being disrupted by the past and still look pretty knowing he's other people's nightmares?

Because really. It's hard to comprehend how someone as cold as him gives warmth to the definition of beauty. All those nights. All those temptations. And all those heartbreaks I have to go through with him end with me feeling for him instead. His aura enthralls all demons that would appear in his dreams, even if I can't read his thoughts. I just continue to watch all damn night.

I eye him one more time, as he's deep into a daydream, before eyeing myself from where I'm at.

I'm naked. No literally.

I have been gazing from his closet, standing, and thinking without being aware of my own body being open before him.

Embarrassed, I quickly tried to pick up some clothes in his closet: a pink shirt that's embroidered with the name of his high school university and a pair of striped pajamas. I doubt he'll notice that his clothes are gone since he barely uses them. I know that he hates pink, which is also a reminder of his school, and he doesn't wear pajamas too often because they require effort to be worn, as he said.

I shuffled out of the closet as quietly as I could, trying not to awaken him from his slumber. I'm cautious because I'm nowhere near safe if he sees me. I know I talked about watching him before, but that was through my phantom. No contact. No senses are involved. This time, however, is different, and I'm well aware of it.

I mean, there was no chance for me to be spectating after going through emptiness in that dark hall just to wish an end was in sight. And this is it.

Hopefully, his room doesn't have any cameras that are open 24/7, or else he would have a different feeling burst from his heart. Not love; probably a heart attack. Which is why I hurried out of his room to the exit and opened the door.

Shit.

Air whistles in my face as I enter another eclipse from in front of his door. It's as if my body is transitioning from sensations of unfamiliarity to not being overwhelmed by this new world. The living. All's hall is white, and not one person is to be seen wandering.

I'm back into running, but this time there was no risk, and all I can think of is escaping him, not escaping my original world.

I'm down the stairs, rushing through the front door without any conscience of where I'm at before-

Stop in your tracks.

These words over again.

Why are you in a hurry, mister?

But this time a dark figure blocks my view from in front and eyes me wreckless and confused. A guard, really? I expect to catch a break after feeling torn apart. Thank you.

"What are you doing out this late, sir?" she says with her eyebrows up, all in question. "What room did you come from?"

My head is just lost in all her continuous questions. Our minds aren't really made in situations of interference, meaning we don't mind each other's business in my world.

However, there's no point in not reasoning out here. I need to come up with an excuse.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

"Uh, yes?" I start puzzled. "I mean, no. No need for you to repeat. I'm from Room 13."

She looks at me interestedly. "Mr. Weisser?"

It hurts to hear his name and, moreover, his last name in the world where his phantom actually exists. Yet, I try not to be fazed by it.

"Yep. We just finished, you know..."

I get that she has an idea of what I meant, so I didn't bother elaborating much. Just a widening gaze from her is enough for me to know that I'm probably out of her radar.

"Just don't speak about it to him—to anyone, really. He doesn't like talking about his business, especially sex business." I continue.

Good thing I analyzed every bit of communication from the spectating world to know what I meant and how it can be my excuse even though I haven't really experienced it. Hell, just sex in general was never felt as an emotion by us, but an action we just knew was an act of love.

There was finally a glint of realization in the guard's eyes before she led me out. "Are you sure you're fine out this late, sir?" she begins again.

I just nodded because there was no point in continuing our conversation when I was just renewed a few minutes ago. And I'd rather not spend my time lingering in Kiev's presence anyway. So I just escaped.

————————

I miss watching.

People over here fucking give me side eyes whenever I lay my eyes on them temporarily. Like, for real. Who would threaten to call the cops on you just because you're giving dirty looks to a couple making out on a bench? In public too? Yeah, I'm definitely watching and judging you.

I'm used to observing people without consequence just to see how they express love, not make love. It's restricted from us, yet here I am dumbfounded at its sight.

I also can't get over the fact that I'm here. Living? No. Definitely not. Probably just a fragment of existence, in feelings of numbness still.

Why would I even be transported here? And why in Kiev's closet? I gave up on him months ago when he ended it with his fifth partner. He's confusing because he never showed any sign of heartbreak or felt empathy for the ones he used to love. He's the reason why I wanted to experience life before, just to prove that love does exist even if you're once heartless.

Yet, I only end up here walking over the pavement, walking over my thoughts in nuisance of my purpose.

I'll get some things clear by tomorrow, but for now, I'd rather renounce my freedom out of confusion. Especially since this is nowhere near what I picture being out on the road at night when all's at peace around me.

It's a scene I've seen before, but with couples holding each other's hands, that lightens me as a watcher. I see it, yet I don't understand.

Maybe I need to get back to know more about Kiev, and maybe he can be the wrecker of what-ifs I have known to be unanswered.