The Doorknob

Phil's Story

Phil POV

The Arrival

I'm sitting - well, hovering, really - in the kitchen, staring at my hand. It's invisible, like the rest of me, but I'm trying to find the slight distortion that indicates where my skin ends and empty space begins. It's a game I've played for years, though it started off as an experiment. Sometimes, if I focus hard enough, I swear I can see a slight shimmer, the barest reflection that indicates I'm there, I exist in some way.

Then, very suddenly, the palm of my hand materializes only an inch from my nose. I fall to the floor with an audible thump, part from shock and part from my sudden corporeality. What on earth? I'm sprawled on the kitchen floor, behind the countertop, when I hear the telltale creaking of footsteps in the lounge. Real, human footsteps. Everything clicks into place, and I will myself back to my invisible state as quickly as I can.

"Hello?" I hear the voice - a young man's, it seems - calling into the emptiness. I'm incredibly tempted to move, just to see what he looks like, but I don't want to frighten him. So I stay perfectly still, hoping he'll find his way to me instead.

I'm thrilled when he rounds the corner into the kitchen - though, fortunately, he doesn't step inside. Half of his body peeks around the corner, and he's clothed all in black aside from a white printed logo on his shirt - does that say Muse? Hard to tell, but if so, he's got pretty good taste in music...And he's gorgeous - dark brown hair, straightened into a fringe much like my own, with eyes like coffee and chocolate all mixed together. He's flustered, holding a set of keys toward the fridge threateningly; a light blush has crept up his cheeks, and I'm tempted to stand, to reach out and touch them. He looks immensely confused, and I want to chuckle - he can't see me, of course, unless I want him to. I almost do...

"Wow, if this is the first five minutes in this flat, I'm in for quite a rough year," he chuckles to himself, and I want to hear that voice in my ears for the rest of eternity. I almost laugh aloud, covering my mouth quickly to prevent any sound from escaping - his sarcasm is adorable.

Then he's retreating, back across the lounge and toward the bedroom. Against my better judgment, I follow - the solidity of my form is odd to get used to, as it's been so long since someone lived in this flat, but I shake my limbs experimentally and make my way to the room I had once called my own.

By the time I'm standing in the doorway, he's already collapsed onto the bed and fallen fast asleep. His face is so peaceful - I decide to sit on the floor next to his bed, just staring at him for what must be hours. Though I'm zoning in and out, my faint smile disappears when I notice him pull his knees closer to his chest with a shiver; I watch for a moment, afraid he's woken up, but then he stills. I glance around the room, eyes catching on a blanket he's left crumpled on the floor.

I barely question it, allowing myself to fully manifest so I can grab the blanket and lay it over him. Though it seems he's fallen back asleep, his hands pull it closer and he snuggles against the bed; a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips and forms an adorable dimple on his cheek. A wave of desire courses through me, and I suddenly want to curl up next to him, to keep him warm and have him snuggling into my chest.

As quickly as the feeling appears, I crush it down. You can't do that to him, you'll only end up hurting him. Shaking my head, I return to the kitchen.

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I spend the evening there - my favorite spot to hang out - just thinking. It's been forever since the flat had a new tenant, and it's always a fun pastime to mull over all the possible ways I can entertain myself. Pranks are always the best, I smile mischievously.