One of the perks that came with being transparent was the lack of heat on your skin. Kieran imagined he would've been boiling by this rate, laying on a rooftop under the blazing sun, if it weren't for his state of body.
Though if being set on fire meant gaining his sense of touch back, he would gladly take it.
Everything pointed him back to that moment. It was an experience Kieran couldn't wrap his head around. He created stereos of every second and played them on repeat in his head.
One by one, people gathered their belongings and began to exit the theater that night, ending the show on a very festive note.
Kieran stood at the end of his seat row, smiling fondly as he observed Lennon from afar. The boy had squeezed his way to the front of the stage, starting conversation with the performers and congratulating them for their hard work.
Typical Lennon.
The ravenhead didn't have the luxury of communicating with them, but he mouthed a silent thank you to the actors who played Orpheus and Eurydice.
He makes me feel alive too.
"Ready to go?"
Kieran turned to Lennon, who seemed to have appeared out of the blue. "Yeah."
As they left the entrance and stepped into the chilly air of the night, the ravenhead was overcome with a new kind of anxiety. Kieran had never been one about emotions. There had to be some kind of formula on how to end a special night like this.
"How are you feeling?" Lennon asked quietly as they stepped away from the crowd, wrapping his arms around himself to preserve warmth.
Confused and my nerves are on fire, Kieran wanted to tell him, but at that moment, he wasn't so sure if the boy would accept his reasons. "Okay," he settled on.
Lennon believed him. "You feel better about dancing?"
"I do, actually."
What now? Do I hug him? But there are people around. But Lennon doesn't seem to care. But you can't just assume he doesn't care now even though earlier—
Kieran's train of thought came to a halt when Lennon threw his arms around him in a makeshift embrace. A few onlookers' eyes caught on.
"Lennon."
He could sense the way his hands merged into the expanse of his skin like he was trying to hold him so tight with no prevail.
The boy let go before Kieran could utter a single vowel or move his limbs in response. "I'm so proud of you," he announced, "You're so incredible. Dancing, Kier? Would you really? That would be amazing."
Lennon grinned at him, expecting a thank you or hopefully an I agree! back.
"I wish I could touch you," Kieran blurted instead.
A look of complete solemnity crossed the chestnut boy's face, his smile fading instantly. "What?"
"I don't know why I care," he continued recklessly, words spilling out of his mouth like an open faucet, "I never cared about physical contact, Len, I swear. It never mattered to me. Ever. But I just feel so bad..."
The boy was frowning. Kieran couldn't tell if it was out of confusion or disappointment. Either way, he didn't like it when Lennon frowned.
Lennon shook his chestnut head, eyes wide with mystified sympathy. "It's okay, Kier. It's not like it's some kind of fulfillment or criteria. You not being able to touch me doesn't make me any less of your friend."
That was what he said that night.
Maybe he meant it in a comforting way. But all it did was further stir the uncertainties in the ravenhead and shut him up for the rest of the evening. He couldn't even bring himself to accompany Lennon home that night.
The storm in his head was too loud. It was as if the universe that rejected him for so long gave him a trillion things to soak in all at once.
Kieran groaned, rolling onto his side and wiggling around awkwardly on the hard ground against his side. Because even days later, Lennon's words still tortured him with no end.
It was all so foreign to him. Like being introduced to a new drink hidden at the corner of the menu you've never paid attention to. Or transplanting root crops to different soils, snapping their roots in the process.
Who knew the word friend could cause so much psychological damage.
"There you are, you depressed lump of a corpse."
Kieran used an arm to shield the sun from his eyes, staring directly back at Autumn who hovered above him, hands on hips. He had half-expected them to find him.
"I haven't seen you in ages. Get up. I need to show you something important," they said promptly.
"Wait— wait, Autumn."
They stopped in their tracks, blowing their cheeks out. "What, Kieran? Make it quick."
"You're in such a hurry," the ravenhead snorted, sitting up, "I need your earth-shattering advice."
Now it was Autumn's turn to snort. "Earth-shattering?"
"Is change good?"
"Huh?"
"Like let's say you meet someone and you feel like an entirely different person."
Autumn pulled the most deadpan expression they could muster. "Wow Kieran," they said, their voice gushing with sarcasm, "I wonder who it is."
The ravenhead opened his mouth to defend himself, but his friend gave him no window to speak.
"Could it be me?" They sighed dramatically, gesticulating with the back of their hand against their forehead and the other over their heart, "Who else could it be?"
"Stop." Kieran swatted Autumn away when they went as far as pinching his cheeks. "If you weren't my only dead friend, I would've murdered you in real life."
"That's actually a great description of our relationship."
"Autumn, I'm serious."
They exhaled, toying with a few strands of hair before speaking. "No. Change is not good."
Kieran's shoulders fell.
Autumn crouched down next to him and grabbed the ravenhead's chin, turning his head as if inspecting his face. "Look at you. What have you been doing? You're so much less focused on the task at hand. That's not good," they said, "I shouldn't have let you go to the theater with him."
"But that's not—"
"Kieran, are we talking platonic or romantic right now? Cause I need to know how serious this is."
The ravenhead wasn't prepared for such a straightforward question, feeling the sudden blow that knocked the wind out of his chest.
Kieran visibly gulped down spit, shifting his weight around awkwardly. "Um." A pause. "This is all kind of— new to me, you know."
"Good." His friend nodded in satisfaction. "Let it stay that way. Stop seeing him. Feelings stop evolving. Problem solved." Autumn placed a foot on the metal railing at the edge of the roof. "Kieran, I really need to show you something. Can we go?"
Kieran crinkled his nose in disbelief. "Stop seeing Lennon?" He hadn't even considered that possibility.
"What? C'mon, Kieran. Don't act so betrayed. You have to stop seeing him eventually. Why else would we be working towards your ticket?"
The ravenhead stiffened, avoiding eye contact. "You're right," he mumbled, mainly just to please Autumn.
"Now let's go before I lose my patience and throw you off this building."
"That won't hurt me though."
"The goal isn't to hurt you. It's called asserting dominance."
Kieran scoffed out a laugh. "What's so important?"
"While you were out here sulking around on rooftops over temporary boys." Autumn poked his chest playfully. "I was doing your dirty work for you. There's someone I think you should meet."
"Someone for me to meet?" the ravenhead repeated, brows furrowing, "What are we— turning to Satan for help now?"
His friend seized his arm wordlessly and wrenched him up towards the sky. They floated across a dozen blocks— Kieran counted— until Autumn landed them by the entrance of a dusty-colored college library.
"I was searching through news articles or archives for the name Kieran," they explained in a haste, pulling Kieran inside. Silence reached their ears, but they were ghosts, so it didn't matter what volume they spoke at as they journeyed deeper into the library. "Couldn't find anything. I think I may have scared a toddler off when she saw drawers open by themselves."
"And your point is?" the ravenhead prompted, getting more and more high-strung by the second. Like Autumn was dangling the last piece of a puzzle in front of his face, right out of reach.
Autumn clasped his shoulders and turned him ninety degrees to the left, directing his vision to the space between two bookshelves. "That girl. Thank heavens she's still here."
Headphones around her neck and purple highlights in her hair, she sat cross-legged on a beanbag, typing away on her laptop. She had the same facial structure as Kieran— square jawline and slim nose.
Suddenly Kieran was taken back to the theater. The first time he realized he was a dancer. It was the same violent sensation that overran his senses and sprouted a phantom of a headache at his temples whenever something felt too familiar to him. Or in this case, someone.
He knew. He just knew.
"I may be delusional but she looks an awful lot like you," Autumn whispered, as if finally adapting to the rules of the library, "Kieran?"
The ravenhead clutched at his abdomen like he was about to throw up on the carpet beneath his feet.
"That's my sister."