(Darcy's POV)
My breath is caught in my throat. My legs turn to rubber. They can barely support my nimble frame as I collapse onto the grey tiles at the sight of the foggy figure. Am I dreaming? The cold water was quite painful on my skin, so I reckon this is all real. My mind is reeling… I feel like everything around me just paused. I don’t feel the cool smoothness of the ceramic against my palms, thighs or feet. I don’t hear the light dripping noise from the fausset anymore. The water slithering down my forehead and cheeks pass right over my head. The only thing that can be heard in the room is the drumming of my erratic heart. My stomach feels hollow… I don’t know if it’s from fright or excitement. But one thing I know for certain is the way my heart feels, and oh god… Even though it’s hammering behind my ribs, it’s on Cloud Nine… My heart is up high in the sky, but my brain is way too stunned to react coherently. It’s absolutely blank.
“Holy shit,” I say under my breath, the only thing my mind can squeeze out as a reaction.
My eyes watch in awe of his every graceful move. He lifts up his translucent arm, his palm up in reassurance. “Please don’t be frightened,” he hushes.
“It’s you…”
He nods. He approaches me cautiously with strides so small and slow as if not to frighten me. They are so flowing that it looks more like he’s gliding towards me than actually walking. When he’s close enough, his presence radiating the familiar warmth onto my barely clothed body, he kneels down.
“You’re from my dreams,” I continue to whisper nonsense.
He grins playfully. “Yes. I am ever so content that you recognise me.”
“I’ve dreamt of you since I was a kid,” I answer back robotically. Our eyes meet and my heart whirls, flips, somersaults in my chest cavity. “Am I dreaming?”
His grin grows a little wider. His shakes his head, swaying his shaggy blonde hair along his forehead.
We study each other, him wide eyed in excitement and, me quizzically.
My lips are pursed slightly in deep thought. "Who are you?"
His childlike smirk falls and his gaze harden on me. "I haven't any recollection…." His voice is almost a whisper. I can barely hear the voice that has lulled me almost every night for over a decade.
"What do you mean? You don't remember?"
He shakes his head once more, and his hair moves in graceful motion. “People were mainly accustomed to addressing me with vulgarities. My parents had barely acknowledged my having a legitimate name.”
“Are you a ghost?” My mind is getting boggled more and more with each word I hear.
His eyes fall to the tiles and he nods.
A silence overwhelms the bathroom as we sit on the floor, staring at each other. Eventually the hammering in my chest eases into a slow rhythmic beat. There is no longer a continuous thud ringing in my ears or echoing in the small bathroom. My flustered expression melts away into one of tranquility. My breathing is no longer rough, jagged, labored, haphazard... Reassurance that all this is indeed real fills me a calming enthusiasm, which made me stretch my hand out into his warm ambiance without thinking. His eyes stare into mine until he closes them, anticipating the contact of my palm against his cheek. His features look so relaxed, those soft lips slightly parted, his skin free of any tiresome ridges or wrinkles. Instead of feeling the solidity of his skin against mine, my hand fades into the white of his face. It was like moving my hand closer towards a soft flame. You feel the warmth swallow your limb, but there is nothing particularly tangible to hold. He turns his face away and my hand slips out from his fog. I can see his brows stitched in woe and anger.
“We can only touch in your dreams,” he says in a low saddened tone.
I drop my hand to my lap, then let out a disappointed sigh. “Then I want to go back to sleep.”
The corners of his mouth curve once more in excitement. "That can be arranged," he says deeply and smoothly. He rises onto his airy feet, then drifts over to the open bathroom door. As his arm is outstretched towards the agape door, he invites me to follow him. "After you, my dearest Princess Darcy."
My knees don't shake when I spring onto my feet in eagerness. My whole body wills me to follow this phantom. I walk through the threshold, basking in his latent warmth as our bodies pass one another. The blanketed vibe follows me when I lie down on my bed. I, once again, leave my blankets at my feet, for I don't need them with him next to me. I'm perfectly snug with his body next to mine. I know I can't touch him at all, but having such a comforting heat so close to me makes me feel like he can actually hold me, his skin against mine, and mine against his. With my hands under my cheek on my pillow, we lie on our sides, staring into each other’s eyes. For the first time in forever, I actually feel content while my eyes are open, while I’m awake and fully aware and conscious. But I can’t manage to focus on much, just the handsome boy who has haunted my dreams my whole life. I can just imagine him like in my dreams. Instead of fifty shades of grey, his eyes are that electric earthy green. His tousles bounce with life and shine with its honey color. Those lips of his have a natural swollen pinkish tone and plumpness to them as if he had just finished kissing someone hungrily. His cheeks remain constantly rosy in flush. God… I just want to be able to touch the muscular curves of his jawline and neck… Feel his warmth emanate from his solid, lean body. Be able to put my ear or palm to his chest and sense that hypnotic beat... Even in nothing but grey and white, he’s still one of the most attractive guys ever to me. I can just imagine all the things we can do together if he had a body...
I bite the corner of my lip as such images flood my mind and a chuckle slips through my lips.
He arches his brow curiously. “What is so amusing, love?”
Just imagining all the ways that you can ravish me… “I just realised,” I say to cover my initial train of thought, “I’ve known you my whole life and we never gave you a name.”
“Do you have any in mind?”
I purse my lips and squint my eyes in thought. “What’s your favorite…color?” I finally come up with a question.
He sighs lightly through his nose, his eyes focused on mine so intensely I start to blush. “Blue… Like your eyes…” his voice trails off. My cheeks turn beet red. All I can do is bite my lip due to awkwardness and flattery.
“What about your favorite animal?” I try to push past my embarrassing behavior.
He laughs softly, then peers into my eyes again as he’s in deep thought. “I believe it is the chameleon.” This time, I arch my brow inquisitively. He shrugs, then continues calmly, but his eyes glaze over coldy. “I longed for the ability to render myself unnoticed during my past life.”
Hearing him say that he pretty much hated his life breaks my heart. “Was it really that bad?” I ask, searching his murky irises for an answer.
“The bruises and scars I received surpassed the lairs of my skin.” His expression softens and he brushes his fingertips along my cheek. “But all that is behind me now, so you needn’t worry.”
I turn my face towards his open palm, but get nothing but a hot gust tickling me. “Oh, Cham…” I hush to him tearfully.
