Aaron T. x Aaron Z. - One-shots

Ghost of you

Art credit: Miika (???)

3rd person POV:

Z had always had the habit of embracing the pillow to fall asleep. His therapist said it was probably a mild childhood trauma, and certainly the patient knew that after that event he would only get worse.

T had known for a long time, Z had taken it out on him right after the session, at least four or five years earlier.

"What a stupid idea!"

Z said, after he invited himself to T's house and threw himself on the bed next to him:

"Childlike trauma? Oh, come on! I don't have trauma, I'm fine!"

Of course he lied, both to himself and to T, but the continued verbal abuse by his father was well known to the entire world, but Z did not like to talk about it.

"As if the fact that I sleep in a certain way could mean something."

At the time, T also laughed, along with him.
.
.
But now, seeing how Z hugged his pillow, T realized how right the therapist was.

Z was wearing sweat pants, a high school sweatshirt, and one sock. Judging by the state of the bedroom, it must have been a while since he last took a shower, and maybe even since the last exit. There were clothes scattered on the floor, judging by the wet halos on the shirts there must also be a smell of sweat everywhere, and all over the floor was some half-full Monster cans.

He was sick, anyone would know it.

T held his heart, perhaps he should not have been there; but the temptation had been too strong. He never missed Z's birthday- and he always hoped it would never happen. But he wanted to be there, he wanted to be one of those messages that lit up Z's phone, resting on his nightstand, for at least ten minutes after midnight.

Or maybe be there in the bed with him, maybe instead of the pillow itself.

He approached Z's bed, slowly, careful not to make any noise- not that he was able to make any, anyway.

He laid his hand on the bed, but even after leaning it he could not feel the cotton of the sheet on his skin. It hurt to realize he got used to that feeling of nothing. He stepped forward on all fours, and as he came to be parallel to Z's face with his own, he lay down beside him.

Z's breath was regular, almost imperceptible. His relaxed face was the most beautiful T had ever seen, not that it was the first time, but it had been so long since the last..

"Hey, Z, happy birthday..."

He whispered, well aware that Z could not hear him anyway, and extended his hand to his face, touching his cheekbones with his fingers.

How he wanted to feel the roughness of his skin, the dampness of his tears, the warmth of his breath on his fingertips.

"I miss you so much, you know?"

He continued, realizing that he was unable to cry.

"I wish I could be here with you..."

T put his hand on his cheek, Z sneezed, frightened him and forced him to withdraw his hand, was he waking up? Z yawned and stretched, then turned the other way without much thought.

"I shouldn't bother you, not when you finally fell asleep..."

His breath returned to normal.

T sat down and sighed heavily, maybe it was not a good idea to show up there. He stopped looking at Z, and got out of the bed.