Day 10.
Nathan woke up feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
His limbs stretched loose under the sheets, muscles relaxed in a way that felt almost foreign. There was no lingering tension in his shoulders. No racing heart. No gnawing edge of dread waiting to greet him the second his eyes opened.
Just… calm.
Oddly calm.
He blinked slowly, letting the soft gray morning light spill across the ceiling as the realization sank in. Whatever kind of sleep that had been, it wasn't normal. Not for him.
Deep. Heavy. Restful in a way that left him floating.
Too good, honestly.
And then, like flipping a light switch, he remembered.
What the ghost had done.
Nathan's breath hitched in his throat, and instinctively, his hand drifted lazily down his torso. His skin still hummed faintly, as if his body hadn't caught up with the fact that no one was touching him anymore.
A soft sound slipped from between his lips, half sigh, half laugh, entirely unintentional.
"You're really just doing things your way, huh…" he muttered, dragging his palm across his stomach like it might erase the memory.
He wasn't angry.
Not really.
But there was a sting there, an unexpected kind of disappointment curling low in his gut.
Because as much as he'd let it happen… as much as he'd wanted… something…
It hadn't been mutual. Not in the way he wanted.
He exhaled again, turning onto his side, talking more to the ceiling than to anyone, or anything, in particular.
"I want to do things too," he mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep. "But you… you don't even have a proper form."
It sounded ridiculous out loud.
Wanting something tangible with someone who technically didn't exist.
But that's where he was now.
Talking to air. Falling asleep next to an invisible weight. Letting his body remember hands that were never really there.
The thought made him grin, tired and crooked, but still a grin.
"I mean…" he continued, dragging the blanket higher up his chest, "since we're doing things like this… are we… in a relationship now?"
The words tumbled out light and casual, half-laughing, like he was tossing a joke into the universe.
He didn't expect an answer.
Of course not.
Ghosts don't have hearts.
Right?
But before Nathan could roll over and bury his face back in his pillow, he heard it.
A breath.
Not his.
A faint, almost imperceptible hiss of air that didn't belong to him.
His heart stuttered once, sharp and sudden.
Eyes wide, he turned his head just slightly toward the window at the far side of the room.
And there it was.
Fog.
Not from the weather. Not from him.
A fresh layer of condensation began to spread across the glass, like invisible lungs had exhaled against it.
And then…
Words began to trace themselves, slow and deliberate.
Letter by letter.
"YOU'RE MINE."
Nathan sat up fully now, blanket falling off his chest as he stared at the message, chest tight and breath shallow.
For a beat, his brain blanked entirely.
Then came the breeze.
Colder than before.
Lingering.
Sliding across his skin like invisible fingers.
It drifted along the curve of his neck, right up to his ear, and then--
A whisper.
Low. Clear.
As real as any voice he'd ever heard.
"You're mine."
Nathan let out a sharp, disbelieving chuckle, short and rough, mostly to cover the way his skin broke out in goosebumps.
"God, you're possessive," he muttered, dragging a shaky hand through his hair.
But he didn't move away.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't ask it to stop.
Instead…
He leaned back into the mattress… and let the ghost linger.
---
That day didn't end with more touches. No teasing brushes of fingers. No sudden weight curling behind him in bed.
Instead, it ended with words.
Soft taps against his skin.
Whispers too faint to catch fully but present enough to chase sleep from his eyes.
Letters drawn on fogged glass.
Fingers tracing invisible messages across his forearm while he sat on the couch, pretending to focus on reruns he wasn't really watching.
Every time he asked a question, he got a response.
Sometimes it was a barely-there tug at his hoodie sleeve.
Other times, a cool breath behind his ear.
When he stayed too quiet for too long, lost in thought, scrolling mindlessly on his phone, he'd glance up to find new words written on the bathroom mirror.
Little things.
Simple messages.
"Look at me."
"Pay attention."
"I'm here."
It wasn't scary.
Not anymore.
If anything…
It felt like affection.
The awkward, fumbling kind that doesn't quite know how to express itself.
Like someone trapped behind layers of glass, reaching out the only way they could figure out how.
It wasn't perfect.
It wasn't normal.
But Nathan felt it.
That effort.
That want.
That constant, stubborn presence that no longer felt like a haunting… but something closer to a heartbeat without a body.
And maybe that should've scared him.
Maybe it would have, if this were Day 1 or Day 2.
But it was Day 10 now.
And Nathan was tired of pretending he didn't want this, whatever this was.
So when he crawled back into bed that night, sliding under the covers, he didn't hesitate.
He shifted to the side, leaving space beside him.
On purpose this time.
And before sleep took him, he whispered softly into the dark:
"Goodnight… mine."
The lights flickered once in response.
And Nathan smiled.