I remember the leaf that so delicately graced across the boy's neck and spine. I remember how my eyes could follow it all the way down to the ground even though it was supposed to be fluttering behind him. I remember how I blindly stated that I could see through him, as if he were a ghost or a figment of my imagination, and how he responded that it was because he simply wasn't real.
But that was a dream; and the scene playing out before me is not.
As soon as I had opened the blinds to let the sunlight wash in, the boy on my couch had become completely translucent. I can see the pillows resting behind his back, and the blankets that he had shoved under him to sit on. His skin has become paler than ever before, to the point that it's almost as clear as glass. I can still see the colors of his clothes, hair, and eyes, but it's as if they're dimming; ready to disappear at any given time.
He's fading under the sunlight, and it's causing him pain.
The logical thing to do would be to close the blinds to keep him from writhing in pain for any longer, but for some reason the logical part of my brain isn't working right now. I'm in awe; caught in a mesmerized state as I watch the boy slowly fade in front of me. If I had any doubts that the boy was anything but supernatural before, then I defiantly believe it now.
But for some reason I don't feel afraid anymore; the curiosity and peculiarity in the situation has blocked out those feelings and replaced them with feelings of wonder and amazement.
And there's just one thing I need to test.
So, cautiously, and being careful not to make a sound, I slowly make my way over to the couch with an outstretched hand.
I remember in my first dream, how I had spread my fingertips to the heavens to will my parents down to comfort me, and how instead of them appearing, the boy did in their place. Right now, the sight of the boy fading right before my hand reminds me of how happy I was when someone actually did show up in my dream. And how I realized that I wouldn't be alone as long as I had some sense of false hope that he would eventually come back for me.
And, in this moment, if my hand phases right through his skin like it did so many years ago, then he is the boy I was searching for, and my wish will come true.
Something makes me draw my hand back though. Maybe it's the fact that he's so clearly in pain, vainly trying to escape the sunlight even though it's everywhere in the house by now. Or maybe it's the fact that in my dream from earlier, he was clearly invisible but he could still touch me and I couldn't touch him. Maybe he's not the boy from my dreams after all, and this is just a trick that my own mind is playing on me.
Either way, I don't really want to know
Shaking my head, I run back to the window and close the blinds. Almost automatically, the boy slumps back on the couch in exhaustion, his breath heavy and staggered. His eyes return to the dark blackish-purplish color they were before and he looks up at me like I was trying to kill him. He begins to shake once again, but the fading stops and all color returns to his skin.
Hesitantly, I go over to him and feel his forehead for a fever. His skin is smooth and cold to the touch, and he flinches as soon as my fingers make contact with the hair over his eyebrows as I push it back. No fever; but there's definitely something wrong.
Staying completely silent, he allows me to readjust his light body so his head is resting on the pillows and the blanket is once again tucked under his chin. Every time my warm hands touch his cold skin, I shiver, and he flinches away from the touch. But he lets me make him comfortable on the couch, nonetheless.
"I don't think I like the day time." He murmurs; his head lulling to the side of the pillow as he looks up at me. "In the light, you can see your fears coming for you, but in the dark you can't see a thing. I'd rather not see them coming than see them clear as day."
