Spirit-Sensitive | BxB

8: fear

Michael didn't see much of Andrew Guzman for about two weeks.

Lily, too, was quiet. She only appeared once every couple of days, usually just to ask one or two ambiguous questions before disappearing once more.

Michael searched the building for more ghosts, hoping to find something else to divert his attention with, and found nothing. The building's paranormal activity had nearly ceased. There were still those disembodied voices and footsteps, of course, and even flickers of visions, but those were only energy imprints. Not sentient. Meaning that even Michael couldn't do anything about them.

With so little to do around the apartment, he found himself working more than ever before. He finished all of Conway's articles and reports faster than he'd thought possible. His project backlog, too, was now empty.

Normally, when he had this little to do, he'd call his mother, but she was away at some paranormal conference. His sister was apparently too busy to keep him company just because he was bored. She didn't bother to invent any excuses, and he wasn't about to admit that he was lonely and had messed up, as he wasn't in the mood for one of her usual lectures.

Michael sighed and allowed his head to hit the surface of his desk. He had no choice but to face it now— he missed Andrew. The boy had clearly enjoyed Michael's company and had always gone out of his way to "run into" him. Andrew had always had a way of making Michael feel like he was doing some grand favor in so much as talking to him. But, at some point, that had begun to change. Michael had started checking his mail every day, and at the same time, on purpose. Because he knew that Andrew was shy about approaching him. He had started to look forward to those meetings.

Michael, for better or worse, considered Andrew a friend.

He didn't like thinking this way. He saw little point in wallowing in despair and staying stuck in one place. Michael groaned and stood up and left his apartment, making a beeline for the rooftop. Maybe he'd catch Andrew painting up there, as the boy had mentioned doing so from time to time ever since Michael had recommended it. It was at least worth a try, he thought.

"Mr. Mike?"

Lily's voice stopped him in his tracks. Michael turned to find her standing behind him, Molly the rabbit tucked under her arm and a resolved expression on her face. Something about her was different. He felt it in the air around her.

"Lily," he said, half word and half sigh of relief. "I was wondering where you had gone. I haven't seen much of you these days." His mouth settled into an unconscious frown. "...Did you need something?"

There was a long and heavy silence. Lily didn't avert her gaze.

"You told me to come and find you when I wanna leave. ...I'm ready to go to sleep now."

Michael was, honestly, surprised to hear those words for a moment. That feeling passed quickly. Lily was made of something stronger than him. It was no wonder that she'd been able to accept things so quickly. He nodded.

"I'm glad," he said, and he was mostly honest in saying so. "If you'd like, you can come to my apartment—"

"I don't want to be inside. That's where l died. I wanna look at the sky."

Michael nodded again, pursing his lips. It made sense, but his apartment was the easiest place to use, and performing a ceremony anywhere else could result in being seen by others. Despite his concerns, Lily's wishes had to come before anything else. He nodded for a third time, mostly to himself.

"...Alright, then. We'll use the roof. But I'll need to get some things from my apartment first."

Lily didn't seem to mind waiting and did so patiently. This came as little surprise— she'd been waiting, in some form or another, for decades. Michael returned to her with a worn leather tote bag and took her hand, and together, they walked to the roof.