Days Remaining: 19Bank Account: ₹600
It was a scorching Saturday afternoon. The sun was beating down on the pavement hard enough to fry an egg, and the humidity felt like walking through warm soup.
"I'm melting," Lyra complained, floating upside down above Elian's head as they waited on the porch. "I'm a ghost. I don't have sweat glands. And yet, I feel sticky. How is that fair?"
"It's the humidity," Elian muttered, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "It bypasses the laws of physics."
"We've been standing here for three minutes," Sam groaned, adjusting his backpack straps. "Maya, break the door down. Use your rage. I'm starting to hallucinate from the heat."
"He locks it," Maya sighed, fumbling with her keys. "Leo is territorial. He thinks his room is the Bat cave."
"Leo?" Sam asked. "Is that the one in the band?"
"Yeah. The Existentialists," Maya rolled her eyes. "They play three chords and scream about capitalism. It's tragic."
"I think it sounds cool," Sam argued. "Musicians have charisma."
"Musicians have fleas," Elian mumbled. He was hot, tired, and just wanted to sit in the AC.
"Open the dooooor," Lyra moaned, draping herself dramatically over the porch railing like a Salvador Dali clock. "If I don't get air conditioning soon, I'm going to haunt a refrigerator."
Finally, the lock clicked. "Got it," Maya said. She pushed the door open. "Just grab my stuff and let's go before he wakes up and starts talking about his 'art'."
But they didn't get inside. Because just as the door opened, someone walked out.
Leo.
Maya's older brother was twenty-one, and he looked like he had stepped out of a cologne commercial and into the suburbs by mistake. Vintage leather jacket, ripped jeans, perfectly messy hair. He smiled at them. It was a blinding, high-wattage smile. In thirty-degree heat. He held a motorcycle helmet under one arm casually, like it was a fashion accessory. He ran a hand through his hair, perfectly messy, thick, dark hair that fell back into place like it was trained.
Elian felt a sudden, violent drop in temperature beside him. He looked to his right.
Lyra had been mid-complaint. Now, she had gone rigid in mid-air. Her mouth was slightly open. Her eyes were wide. "Holy aesthetic," she whispered.
"Hey, little sis," he said. His voice rumbled like a cello. "Bringing the nerd herd?"
Lyra gasped. She clutched her chest. "Did you hear that?" She grabbed Elian's arm (phasing right through his bicep). "That frequency. That is a subwoofer in a human throat. Elian, tell me you heard the bass."
"I heard it," Elian muttered, crossing his arms to hide a sudden wave of self-consciousness. He looked down at his own generic grey hoodie and scuffed sneakers. He felt very... beige.
"He is art," Lyra declared.
She abandoned Elian. She didn't just walk over to Leo; she drifted toward him like a moth to a very expensive flame. She circled him. She floated upside down to inspect his boots. She hovered sideways to examine his profile.
"Pores?" she announced to Elian, shouting across the porch. "Zero! He has zero pores! How is that biologically possible? Is he made of marble? Is he a filter come to life?"
Leo rubbed his arms suddenly. He frowned, looking around. "Is it just me, or did it just get freezing out here?"
Elian felt a hot, ugly twist in his stomach. For the last week, Lyra had been his ghost. She made fun of his clothes. She drank his coffee. She hovered over his shoulder. Now, she was inspecting this guy like he was the Mona Lisa and Elian was just the janitor mopping the floor.
Leo looked at Sam. "Hey, man. Long-time no see." Leo reached out to clap Sam on the shoulder in a friendly, cool-guy greeting.
Lyra floated right in front of Leo. She was entranced. "Look at that jawline," she whispered. "You could slice cheese on that."
She reached out. She raised her hand toward Leo's face. She looked like she wanted to touch his cheek, or maybe brush a piece of hair from his forehead. Elian saw her fingers getting closer. Inches away. He just felt a sudden, burning possessiveness. She was his partner. She wasn't allowed to touch the marble statue. He saw Leo shiver involuntarily as the cold spot hit his skin.
"NO!" Elian shouted.
He lunged forward, slapping his hand against the porch pillar. "DON'T TOUCH HIM!"
The shout echoed down the quiet street. Everything stopped.
Leo froze, his hand hovering inches from Sam's shoulder. Lyra snatched her hand back, looking guilty and startled. Sam flinched violently, pulling his shoulder away from Leo, looking terrified.
Everyone looked at Elian. Elian was breathing hard, his face bright red, realizing he had just screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Uh," Leo said slowly, looking from his hand to Sam's shoulder. "I was just... saying hi to Sam?"
Elian blinked. He looked at Sam. He looked at Leo. He realized what it looked like. Leo was reaching for Sam. Elian yelled "Don't touch him." To everyone else, Elian wasn't protecting a ghost from touching a stranger. He was protecting Sam from being touched.
Sam stared at Elian. His eyes went wide behind his glasses. He took a slow, careful step back. "Elian," Sam whispered. "Dude."
"No, I didn't mean…" Elian started, panic rising.
"Whoa," Maya said. Her jaw dropped. She looked at Elian, then at Sam. Her eyes lit up with sudden, horrifying realization. "Oh my god. It all makes sense."
"What makes sense?" Elian squeaked.
"The loyalty," Maya said, pointing a finger at Elian. "Is that why you listened to his entire four-hour podcast on government pigeons? I thought you were just being nice! But you were... swooning!"
"I was not swooning!" Elian yelled. "It was an educational podcast!"
"And the cafeteria!" Sam added, his voice rising in panic. "When you stood in front of Jason? You weren't being a hero. You were being a knight in shining armor! For me!"
"I was saving my own life!" Elian argued, waving his hands frantically. "Sam, please, stop."
"I'm flattered," Sam interrupted, holding up his hands like he was surrendering to the police. "Really. I am. You're a catch, Elian. You have great hair. But... I like girls, man. And even if I didn't... I'm a lone wolf. A conspiracy theorist can't be tied down by romance! and even if I ignore all that still… you're like a brother to me. A platonic, non-romantic brother."
Elian's jaw dropped. "What?"
"It's okay," Sam patted Elian's arm sympathetically. "Unrequited love is tough. We can still be friends. Just... don't yell at people for touching my shoulder. It's possessive."
"I'm not in love with you!" Elian shouted, his face turning from red to purple.
"It's okay to have feelings, Elian," Maya said, nodding sagely. "Is that why you always take his side when we argue? Even when he said the moon was made of hollow plastic?"
"I sided with him because it was funny!" Elian pleaded. He looked at Leo for help. "Tell them! I'm not in love with him!"
Leo let out a low whistle. He grinned at Elian, clearly enjoying the show. "Hey, no judgment here, killer," Leo chuckled. "Love is love. I won't steal your man. He's all yours. I respect the territory."
"He is not my territory!" Elian shouted. His face was now a deep, radioactive purple.
Lyra was cackling. She was rolling in the air above Leo's head, clutching her stomach, kicking her legs. "Oh my god," she wheezed. "This is incredible. They think you're in love with Sam! The conspiracy kid! 'I'm a lone wolf!' Hahahaha!"
Elian wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He glared at Lyra. "This is your fault," he hissed under his breath.
"Did you just whisper sweet nothings to me?" Sam asked, looking terrified.
"NO!" Elian roared.
He turned on Leo. He needed to deflect. He needed to be angry at someone who wasn't Sam. "It's the jacket," Elian snapped at Leo. "It's ninety degrees. You're sweating. It's unhygienic. I didn't want Sam getting... sweat on him. That's all. It was a hygiene issue."
"Right," Leo laughed, putting his helmet on. "Saving him from the sweat. Heroic. Very romantic." He said winking at Elian.
Lyra swooned. Actually swooned. She did a dramatic faint in the air, catching herself before she hit the concrete. "The wink!" she screamed. "He winked! Did you see the symmetry? The confidence?"
Leo walked past them to his motorcycle. Lyra immediately followed him. She hovered just above the leather seat behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to touch the leather or him, mimicking the posture of a rider.
"Shotgun!" Lyra cheered. "Take me away, beautiful man! Let's ride into the sunset and leave these awkward humans behind!"
Elian watched them. He saw how happy she looked on the back of the bike. He saw how perfectly she fit there, floating just millimetres above the seat. The jealousy flared up again, hotter than before. Not because she touched Leo, but because she wanted to leave with him while Elian was stuck here explaining to Sam that he didn't want to date him.
Leo kicked the engine to life. VROOOM. "Later, lovebirds!" Leo shouted over the engine,
He sped off. Lyra stayed with the bike for twenty feet, floating effortlessly along with the momentum. Then, the invisible leash yanked her back. She was pulled out of the air. She floated back to the porch, looking wistful.
"He was magnificent," she sighed. "He smelled like sandalwood."
Elian turned around and walked into the house without a word. He walked right through her mist.
"Whoa," Lyra shivered. She floated after him.
Inside, Elian stood in the corner of the dining room, aggressively staring at a painting of a fruit bowl. Sam and Maya were huddled at the table, unpacking books but watching Elian with pitying eyes.
"He's taking it hard," Sam whispered loudly. "Look at him. He's staring at the bananas. That's the first stage of grief.""Denial," Maya whispered back. "Be gentle with him, Sam. You broke his heart."
"I CAN HEAR YOU," Elian said through gritted teeth.
"What is your problem?" Lyra asked, floating up to him. "You were being a jerk," she continued poking his cheek. "Why? Because he has a cooler jacket than you?"
"I don't care about his jacket," Elian snapped, swatting her hand away.
"Then what?"
"Nothing!" Elian hissed. "I just think it's annoying that you fall in love with the first shiny object you see. You're a Reaper, Lyra. You should have more dignity than drooling over some... some guy just because he has a bike and…. I didn't want you touching him," Elian hissed under his breath, turning his back on his friends so they wouldn't see his lips moving.
"Why?" Lyra poked his cheek. "Because I'd give him frostbite?"
"No," Elian whispered. He refused to look at her. "Because you're my partner. You're supposed to haunt me. Not him."
Lyra paused. She floated back a few inches. Her eyes narrowed. A slow, shark-like grin spread across her face.
"Wait a minute," she whispered. "You weren't protecting Sam or Leo. You were protecting... me?"
Elian didn't answer. He just stared harder at the fruit bowl.
"You're jealous!" Lyra gasped. She clapped her hands. "You're the Green Monster! You didn't want me touching the masterpiece!"
"He's not a masterpiece," Elian grumbled to the wall. "He's a cliché in a leather jacket and I am not jealous"
"You are!" She floated upside down to look him in the eye. "You're mad because I called him pretty. You're mad because I sat on his bike."
Behind him, Sam flinched. "Maya," Sam whispered, terrified. "He's talking to the wall. He's having a breakdown. The rejection was too much. I broke his brain."
"Just let him vent," Maya advised. "He's processing."
Elian ignored them. He only cared about the ghost floating in front of him.
"You looked happier," Elian mumbled.
Lyra stopped smiling. She drifted closer. She saw the genuine hurt in Elian's eyes. It wasn't just petty jealousy. It was insecurity. He genuinely thought he was the boring option.
"Elian," she said softly.
He refused to look at her. He stared at the painted bananas.
"He was High Definition," Lyra admitted. "Very bright. Very loud. Like a neon sign."
She lowered herself until her feet touched the floor. She stood next to him. "But neon gives me a headache after five minutes," she whispered.
Elian glanced at her sideways.
"I prefer grey," she said, nodding at his hoodie. "It's softer. It's real. You can't talk to a neon sign, Elian. You just stare at it. But you?" She bumped his shoulder with hers. A gentle, freezing nudge. "You bought me cake. You make me coffee. You let me scare your friends. You're not the painting in the museum."
"What am I then?" Elian mumbled.
Lyra smiled. "You're the house the painting hangs in," she said. "I'd rather live in the house than stare at the wall."
Elian felt the knot in his chest loosen. It was a weird metaphor, but he understood it. Leo was just a view. Elian was home.
"His hair was stupid anyway," Elian grumbled, finally cracking a small smile. "Too much product."
"Oh, completely," Lyra agreed instantly, sensing the danger had passed. "Highly flammable. One spark and poof. Fireball."
"Elian?" Sam called from the table, his voice gentle and full of pity. "Are you okay, buddy? Do you need a hug? A strictly platonic, side-hug?"
"I'm fine, Sam!" Elian shouted, turning around. "Just do the math!"
"He totally wants a hug," Lyra whispered, giggling.
Elian sat down at the table. Sam looked at him like he was a wounded puppy. Maya pushed a cookie toward him silently. They thought he was heartbroken. They thought he was pining for Sam. He knew he would never hear the end of this. For the next 19 days, he was going to be the "Guy who loved Sam."
Elian sighed. He looked up. Lyra sat on the table in front of him, winking. He might be the laughing stock of the study group, but the ghost was smiling at him. And for some stupid reason, that was worth a lifetime of teasing.