Spectrophilia ( boyxboy romance )

Imaginary Friend

Everyday since he moved in, I watched in silence. His name was Mason- I heard so from his parents when they called him. He was just a little boy, living a normal life. Sometimes he would see me and he would wave- try to talk to me even- and I would wave back at first, shy. It only took a few days for me to get used to him and even tell him stories from my life.

But soon, he started to grow. Over time, when he called out for me, he would have a harder time hearing my voice the older he got. As he got to the age of 7, he could no longer hear or see me and I was just another "imaginary friend". I heard his parents say the words and I saw the look on his face as it broke his heart. It saddened me. It felt like forever since I had a real friend and now he doesn't believe in me. This happened around the worst time of his life. His mother was pregnant, but never came home after leaving to give birth to her child. He came home crying - it was my first time seeing him this way - and locked himself in his room. The way he called out to me- screamed out my name. I tried calling back, but he never heard. I was saddened even more when he said that he hated me. I exited the room, not wanting to hear anymore of it.

I wondered the hallways alone, stayed in the corners. After a short while, I decided to watch over him again. I watched him grow... and sadden. The change happened day by day. When I met him, he was the happiest little child, but, as he grew, his face dropped as he got sadder and sadder each day. He got a step-mother. I always wondered where his real one went until his 8th birthday came around. I saw her. She saw me as well.

I waved her, looking down at her arms, which were wrapped around a child - a baby.

"Hello" she said with a warm smile. The baby made such cute sounds. It saddened me that it would never have a human life.

"I'm Jacob." I said, knowing that she heard of me before.

"You're real.." she sounded a bit surprised and guilty in a sense.

I nodded. "He can't see me anymore" I explained with a sigh.

"I just came to check up on him for his birthday..." she said softly.

We paused when we heard a door open down the hall. Mason's step-mother - Karen. She was a thin blonde with high cheekbones, brown eyes, and extremely huge breasts...and too much makeup. And her personality didn't make up for her disgusting looks either.

Karen walked down the hallway and opened Mason's door. I walked into the room, motioning for Mason's mom to follow me. She did. We watched the whole conversation go down from the corner behind Mason's bed.

"Don't expect anything for your birthday," Karen started coldly, "Your father is taking me out to dinner tonight and we'll be leaving you home alone. Your birthday cake is on the table in the kitchen."

"Nothing from Aunt Matilda or Grandma?" Mason asked, sounding weak. How could a Thirty-something year old woman (believe it or not) treat an eight year old this way. He had gotten so skinny, it was hard to believe he lived in a home with a father and step-mother.

"No. They sent nothing." Karen replied.

"Nothing? How could they send nothing? They send him gifts every year!" Mason's mom said as Karen exited the room. She then proceded to follow Karen downstairs to the front door. I followed too. We watched as Karen opened the door took two packages from the front porch (which were obviously the gifts she told Mason he never got) and dumped them into the garbage. Mason's mom was furious.

"That damn witch!" She yelled and the baby in her arms started to cry as a huge rumbling sound vibrated the air. Her facial expression was angrier than I've ever seen it. She stood behind of Karen, the baby cried even more.

As Karen turned around, she did something that I wasn't expecting her to do. A loud scream escaped her throat and she fell back.

"Give them to him!" She shouted, sounding bold and powerful.

She could see Mason's mother. The look of pure terror on her face said it all. Her mouth was wide open and trembling - no words came out. Her eyes matched the wideness of her mouth.

"NOW!" She demanded. And with that, Karen stumbled past us and up the stairs. I followed, wanting to see the show. Trembling, Karen opened the door to Mason's room.

Mason looked at her, unmoved from the position he was in when Karen first entered. He seemed confused as Karen threw the gifts on his bed.

"Take it! Just take it!!" She screamed and ran out of the room. I smiled.

But it didn't end there. After Mason's mother and her baby calmed down, she approached her living son.

"Mason..." She called out softly. He looked up, noticed her. Tears began to form in his eyes as he ran to hug her. It was like she was alive again.

"Mom!" He cried into her white dress. "I miss you.."

"I miss you too, baby." she said, sounding sad and happy at the same time.

I heard horns from up above. This made Mason's mom look up and let go of her son.

"Goodbye mom..." I heard him say quietly. He couldn't see her anymore.

"What's that?" I asked, referring to the sound.

"The trumpets. They play when it's time for us to return to heaven." she explained, looking down at her baby.

"Heaven?" I asked. I didn't know it was real. She gave me the saddest look. I could tell that she felt sorry for me.

"You don't know what heaven is?" She asked and I shook my head.

"I've been here for a really long time." I said.

She then started to hover up towards the ceiling. "look after my son for me." she said, giving me a soft smile.

I nodded. And she was gone, along with the trumpet sounds.

For the rest of that day, He was the happiest he'd ever been. He got his gifts and he saw his mother.

It only took the next day for his life to go back to - just bad. I wish I had the powers that his mother had; being able to make people see her on command. It was amazing. Maybe it was because she remembered what it was like to be alive. I don't. I just wish I could be there for him, be there to comfort him. I tried.

When he became a teen -around my age- I would watch everyday as he cried, sometimes hurt himself. It was painful to witness. One day, It got really bad - all the blood that covered his arms and all the tears that slithered down his face like transparent serpents of distress. He probably didn't notice, but I would embrace him at these moments- especially this time- and try to tell him that everything was okay.

But he couldn't feel me, or hear me; to him, I'm just imaginary...