Phil's POV

I heard a knock at my door, just two days after I called and requested a medium. I had showered and cleaned up to appear more decent. When I opened the door, a short, gypsy-like woman, no younger than forty, let herself in.

"You're Phil, yes?" she said, making her way to the kitchen.

I closed the door. "Um, yes. Thank you for coming. I –"

"Come," she instructed. "I am Madame Jade."

She immediately closed all the doors in the house and lowered the shades on the windows. I didn't understand what she was doing, but why would I question? I was no psychic.

"So you have a ghost, you think?" she asked, her Northern accent sinking in strongly.

"Uh, I don't know. I feel like he's –"

"Explain who 'he' is."

"M-my boyfriend. He died a few weeks back."

"Name?"

"Dan."

"Alright. We should do this quickly."

"Why?"

She glared at me. "Because I said so, son."

I didn't ask anymore questions. She asked me if I had a lighter. I brought her the one I used for my candles and she set it on the kitchen table. She pulled out a palm-sized black dish and a small bag of some sort of crushed up and green coloured plant.

"This is sage," she explained. She arranged it into a small pile in the dish on the table. She then took out four small incense candles and set them ablaze, one on each corner of the table. Madame Jade then shut off all the lights and instructed me to sit across from her. It was dark, other than the incense burning like small torches in the corners.

With a tiny pinch of the sage in her hand, she flicked it at me. I flinched, but said nothing. She continued to flick tiny pinches around the room, "purifying" it.

"Take my hands, son," she said, much kinder than before and flashed me a smile. I did so.

She closed her eyes and mumbled something, and I didn't pay much attention until "Dan" was thrown from her lips, along with more inaudible phrases, possibly in a different language.

"You wish to speak to him," she said, more as a statement then a question. "Go on."

"What?"

"Speak. Let him hear you."

I felt silly now. How was this possibly going to work? I sighed anyway. "D-Dan?"

A faint sound followed my call to my right side. I turned my head.

"Again," the Madame commanded softly.

"Dan?"

"Hill," the sound echoed.

I stood up, letting go of the woman and facing the corner. "What?" I asked it.

"Hill? Hill!"

The "Ph" pronunciation was having a difficult time getting through. A figure in the common human shape swirled like mist before my eyes. I could see dark, yet transparent colour take place to form a shirt, jeans, hair, a face. Staring at me eagerly and pleadingly.

"Dan?!"

"Phil?" The voice was clear now, and came from his mouth. He was speaking.

I covered my mouth and I cried in shock and disbelief. I looked to the medium, who's eyes were closed and elbows were up on the table with her fingers in meditation position. My head shot back to Dan.

"C-can you really... see me? A-and hear me?"

I nodded, though he was transparent and I could see the wall behind him as well. I was crying, but I didn't realize it until the tears dropped from my chin.

"Phil," he cooed. "Don't cry. Please?"

I wiped my face. "Am I... hallucinating?"

"No," he said. "It's me."

What could I say? How long did we have? All these thoughts going through my head and I was wasting time, probably. "I... I don't...."

"I've been there, Phil, watching you."

I felt embarrassed since I had been a complete loser since he died. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know what to do. I couldn't... I didn't want to... live without you, Dan."

He stayed silent.

"I haven't cared about much lately. I felt so guilty."

"For what?"

"It's my fault," I sobbed and coughed in pain. "It's all my fault, Dan. This should have never happened."

"Why would it be your fault?"

"I-I had you go out. I was being stupid. If I hadn't done that –"

"Phil," he cut me off. "None of this is your fault. That's why they call it an accident."

"But look what happened! You... You're...."

"Dead."

I sniffed my pain in. "Yeah."

He grinned. "I'm sorry. I wish I wasn't, of course. But I wish more for you to live now."

"You don't understand. I can't! I-I can't do this without you, Dan! I love you! I need you!"

"Well it's not like I can come back."

He couldn't. That was true.

"But I don't want to see you this way anymore. I can't be feeling as much pain as I do watching you suffer. Do you really think I want you to be lying in bed all day, or that I want to be slapping razors away from you?"

"It was you?" I nearly whispered.

"Yes. And I sent the texts too but my phone is dead now so I no longer can. And it was me who wrote in the book, but the pen I had is dead too. Everything dies quicker when you're undead, I guess, but that's beside the point. Phil," he said, eying me with plea, "you have to take care of yourself now, whether I'm there or not."

As hard as I tried, I wasn't able to look deeply at him anymore. He didn't exist. All I wanted was some truth to this. I wiped my face. "I'll try," I choked.

"Trying isn't enough, Phil. I need you to promise. I need to be sure that you'll be alright. If you aren't... I don't know what I'll do."

"But... It's so hard, Dan."

"I know. I've learned only one real thing from this; the dead want their living counterparts to live, not to suffer. I want to see you happy again, Phil. Don't you want to make me happy?"

"Dan, I cant just -"

"I know," he said, putting his hands out, as if he were about to take mine, but he stopped. "I know I know, but Phil, you have a life to live. I'm still there, watching you and thinking about you. I'm always thinking about you. You're all I have to think about. And I still love you, in life or death. Please, I've been begging since the moment I woke up again for you to be alright. It's all I want."

I looked now at the love he had in his eyes, and I could see his true concern. Though he looked the same, I know he could see how horrible I looked then.

"Dan?" I asked softly. "Can I... touch you?"

He was taken aback by the question. I could now hear and see him. Would it be possible that I could feel him physically? "I don't know. You could try, I suppose."

Slowly, in fear that I wouldn't be able to, I reached for his hand at the same time that he reached for mine. He felt like air – like warm steam. He had warmth, not solidity. My hand nearly passed through his, but, almost magnetically, it didn't. It stayed there, lacing fingers with the wisps that were Dan's fingers. It was a touch alright – an indescribable touch.

Upon realizing that this was possible, Dan's other hand snaked around my back and weakly pulled me in. I touched around his chin, but it wasn't there. I had only one thought: Could we kiss? I bit my lip, too scared and wrecked to want to try.

"I do love you," he said. "Believe it."

"Of course I do."

"Then," he said, his voice very small and low and close to me, "you have to take care of yourself for me."

I nodded. "I will."

"Promise me?"

"I promise."

He was then silent, nothing left to say. I felt his artificial physical arm hug me close. His ghostly face neared mine. Warmth and air hit my lips. It wasn't real. This wasn't a kiss. I was puckered and mouthing at air. I felt myself crying again, finally learning and accepting the truth. Dan was gone.

"I love you, Dan. I still do, and always will."

But when I opened my eyes, it was just darkness and the smell of incense burning. The feeling of his arm around me lingered, but faded, along with the warmth he radiated.