Nameless Ghoul

Dreams

Itzal stripped off his clothes, switched on the shower, and stepped under the spray. The water was freezing, but he didn’t care. He let the shock of the cold douse his anger, his frustration.

He should’ve gone back to his own room. Instead, he’d panicked and trapped himself in Sunshine’s bathroom, not thinking straight.

He needed a distraction, though. Anything to keep him from facing her right then. Thankfully, she hadn’t come after him. But that only made him feel worse.

He berated himself for running off and leaving her like that. Would she know it wasn’t her fault? What if she thought it was? He cursed himself again. He’d just bolted like a fucking coward and left her to deal with the aftermath.

Itzal’s hands clenched into fists, resisting the urge to punch the tiled wall.

He had no idea how to handle this. None.

He’d never had this problem before. Not with any of his previous partners. Though, they hadn’t exactly been partners by choice. He’d never cared what they thought of him, anyway.

Now, it mattered. And he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

He sank to the floor of the shower, closed his eyes, and let the spray hit his face.

Time passed unnoticed. Eventually, the shivering brought him back to himself again. He blinked against the water, hauled himself upright, and finally got around to actually cleaning himself.

When he stepped out, he towelled off and pulled his jeans back on, grabbing his shirt from the floor. He took a breath.

Time to face the music.

Sunshine wasn’t in the room, and Itzal wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not.

The sadness hit him then, soul deep and low in his gut. He’d hurt her. Again.

Quietly, he slipped out the door, only to be greeted by the unimpressed faces of Cumulus and Cirrus. They were standing like sentries outside, arms folded, expressions stern.

Itzal looked around for backup. For any familiar ghouls who might bail him out, but the hallway was empty. He cursed under his breath.

Cirrus raised a brow.

“Nobody else here, bud. Just us ghulehs.”

He turned to Cumulus, who wore a mock frown and had her arms crossed tightly, too.

“Is she upset?” he asked flatly.

The two ghulehs exchanged a glance. Cumulus sighed, the teasing edge softening.

“A little,” she admitted. “She didn’t say what happened, but... please go talk to her. We don’t like it when Sunshine’s sad, and there’s nothing we can do to help. You ghouls are so problematic, you know that?” she added, trying for a playful tone. “Our lives would be so much easier without you.”

She offered a small smile, then nodded toward the hallway.

“She’s in the rehearsal room. In case, you know... you wanted to go talk this through?”

He nodded, murmured a quiet thanks, and turned to go.

“Umm, Itzal?” Cirrus called.

He stopped, turning back to them.

“You might wanna put a shirt on.” Her expression was deadpan. “We don’t need mass hysteria breaking out when all the Siblings of Sin catch a glimpse of all that.”

Cumulus burst into laughter as he looked down and realised he was still half-naked.

He muttered another curse, felt his cheeks blush beet-red, and made a detour to his room, grabbing a clean T-shirt and a hoodie before heading down the hall. He could still hear the ghulehs snickering in the kitchen as he left.

As he neared the rehearsal room, a sound stopped him in his tracks.

The gentle notes of a piano. A voice, pure, clear, and haunting, drifted through the quiet.

The door was propped open. He paused in the doorway.

Sunshine sat at the grand piano, dwarfed by its size. Her fingers moved effortlessly over the keys, playing a perfect rendition of Dreams by Fleetwood Mac.

Goose bumps prickled across his skin. Her voice... it didn’t just sound beautiful, it reached right into his soul and took hold.

Her eyes were closed. Head tilted back slightly. Her fingers glided with the ease of familiarity. A beam of light from the ceiling rig caught her features and, for a moment, she looked ethereal. Enchanting. Completely lost in the music. Completely herself.

Itzal couldn’t look away.

As the last notes faded, he stepped silently into the room.

She spun on the stool, startled, and her gaze met his.

Her eyes shimmered. She didn’t speak, unsure of what he might say.

He crossed the space between them and stopped just in front of her. As she sat on the bench, he leaned down and gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

She turned her head and rested her cheek against his stomach. He cradled her, his fingers sliding through her hair as he held her close.

Her arms wrapped around his back, and he felt the warm, damp press of her tears.

Itzal's throat tightened. His chest ached.

He had done this.

His baggage. His past. His damage.

“I’m so sorry, Sunshine,” he whispered.

Her arms tightened around him, just barely, but it meant everything to him.

And despite it all, she still held him.