12: Ghost Kiss
If there was one thing which he’d found, that hurt like nothing else- well, other than that hex which’d done him in- was Davina’s tears. Maybe she cried acid, or vervain- but when she cried, he hurt. In his gut, his chest, arms itching to wrap around her and smother her until she could cry no more. Apparently his own tear ducts still worked, even as he lingered by her side whilst she tried to go about her day. He felt his own tears, a foreign feeling, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
She didn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, and if he’d thought it was madness to be a spirit before, then he didn’t know what to call this. It was pain, it was agony, it was rage when he tried to let his fingertips skim over her hair, tug at that stray lock which he’d liked to curl around his finger; only when he tried to do it, he’d pass straight through her. That, was rage.
It was only as she slept, curled up on the right side of the bed- clutching his jacket to her chest that he sighed.
"You’ve got a little too much power over me, love," He whispered, as if he could’ve woken her at any moment before leaning down and swiping his lips over hers ever so gently. Never really there, and never really tasting them like he wanted to. Couldn’t feel the texture of her lips, couldn’t smell her scent, there was nothing there and he didn’t know why he was so disappointed. Maybe he’d hoped that her eyes would snap open, that she’d greet him with that beautific smile despite being back in his Original form.
Instead, he sighed, forcefully dragging his eyes away from her limp sleeping form and leaving to briefly check on his sister.
Knowing he’d be back here a few hours later.