Presence stood in front of apartment 402, her heart pounding with the rhythm of bad decisions. It was 8:00 AM on a Saturday, and the universe seemed to be laughing at her predicament. She should have been in class, desperately trying to cram two years worth of knowledge into her brain before exams hit like an academic apocalypse. Instead, she was here, knocking on a stranger's door, all because of a boy.

Not just any boy. A dead boy.

Kel stood beside her, his ghostly form shimmering like a mirage in the harsh fluorescent light. He was biting his nails – or whatever the afterlife equivalent was for someone who no longer had fingernails, or fingers, or a physical body at all. Presence wondered, not for the first time, if the afterlife came with a manual on how to navigate these impossibly awkward situations.

She glanced at Kel, taking in his translucent features and the way his eyes darted nervously between her and the door. It struck her then, how absurd and beautiful and terrifying this moment was – standing on the precipice of something unknown, with only a ghost and her own questionable judgment to guide her.

Presence took a deep breath, her hand hovering over the door. She was about to step into a story she never expected to be part of, one that defied logic and reason. But then again, she mused, aren't the best stories always a little bit impossible?

"Are you sure she's even in?" Presence asked, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Kel's response was immediate and impatient. "Yes, she is."

"Okay, okay," Presence said, raising her hands in mock surrender. She'd hoped for a bit of their usual banter, something to lighten the mood. But Kel's face remained serious, his eyes fixed on the door as if he could will it open.

Presence regarded him curiously. There was something in his expression, a mix of longing and anxiety that she hadn't seen before. It made her wonder...

"What's your deal with Funi, anyway?" she asked, her voice softer now. "I mean, I know you were together, but... you're dead now. Is she still your girlfriend or your ex?"

Kel's form seemed to flicker more intensely at her words. He turned to look at her, and for a moment, Presence saw a depth of emotion in his ghostly eyes that took her breath away.

"It's... complicated," Kel said finally, his voice echoing slightly in the empty hallway. "We were together, right up until... well, you know. But now..."

He trailed off, his gaze returning to the door. "I just want to make sure she's okay. I need her to be okay..."

Presence felt a pang of sympathy. It was easy to forget sometimes that Kel wasn't just a ghost – he was a young man whose life had been cut short, leaving behind a tangle of unresolved relationships and emotions.

"That's why you need me to talk to her," Presence said, understanding dawning. "You can't just... ghost her." Her eyebrows waggling.

Kel's ghostly form stiffened, his finger shooting up in warning. "Don't..." he began, his voice a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement.

Presence's grin widened, ready to volley back with another pun, when the sound of the door lock clicking froze them both. In an instant, Kel vanished, leaving Presence alone as the door swung open.

Presence's head whipped around, an awkward, overly bright smile plastered on her face. "Hi!" she chirped, her voice an octave higher than usual.

Funi stood in the doorway, her eyebrow arching skeptically as she took in the stranger before her. Her hair was mussed, dark circles under her eyes hinting at a sleepless night. "I'm sorry, you are...?" she asked, her tone a mixture of confusion and wariness.

Presence straightened, trying to project an air of confidence she didn't quite feel. "Presence Okafor," she said, "Psychology freshman."

"Hi," Funi replied, the skepticism in her voice unmistakable. She regarded Presence for a long moment, as if trying to place her or determine if she was a threat.

Presence felt the weight of Funi's gaze, acutely aware of how bizarre this situation must seem. She took a deep breath, knowing she had to push forward. "I... I have something to tell you," she said, her voice softening. "About Kel."

The change in Funi was immediate and palpable. Her eyes widened, a flicker of pain and longing crossing her face before being quickly masked. Presence could almost see Funi's heart rate increasing, her breath catching in her throat.

"What about Kel?" Funi asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The hallway seemed to shrink around them, the fluorescent lights buzzing with an intensity that hadn't been there before. Presence felt the ghost of Kel's presence, urging her forward even as she struggled to find the right words.

"It's... complicated," Presence began, echoing Kel's earlier words. "But it's important. Can I come in?"

Funi hesitated, her hand tightening on the doorframe. For a moment, Presence thought she might slam the door in her face. But then something shifted in Funi's expression – a mix of curiosity, desperation, and perhaps a glimmer of hope.

"Okay," Funi said finally, stepping back to allow Presence entry. "But this better not be some kind of sick joke."

As Presence stepped into the room, she felt the weight of what she was about to do settle on her shoulders. Whatever happened next would change things irrevocably – for Funi, for herself, and for  Kel that lingered just beyond sight.

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

Presence sank into the couch that Funi had motioned to her, feeling as if she were sinking into quicksand of pastel pinks and floral patterns. The room was a cotton candy dream, so different from her own cave of monochrome minimalism that it felt like stepping into an alternate universe.

Rihanna and Ayra Starr gazed down from the walls, their glossy faces frozen in expressions of confidence that Presence could only dream of mustering right now. She wondered if they, too, had ever found themselves in a situation this surreal – sitting in a stranger's room, about to deliver news that would shatter someone's world. Probably not. Superstar problems probably didn't include "how to tell someone their dead boyfriend is haunting you."

The air in the room felt heavy, laden with the invisible weight of grief and unspoken words. Presence could almost taste it – a bittersweet mix of floral air freshener and the lingering scent of loss. She glanced at the empty space beside her, knowing Kel was there even if she couldn't see him. How strange, she thought, to be simultaneously alone and not alone in a moment like this.

As she waited for Funi to return, Presence found herself cataloging the little details of the room. A half-empty mug of tea on the bedside table. A pile of textbooks gathering dust in the corner. A framed photo of two smiling faces – one of which she recognized as the boy currently existing as a supernatural presence beside her.

It struck her then, how rooms could be time capsules of emotions. This space was a perfect snapshot of a life interrupted, of plans derailed and futures rewritten in the cruelest of ways. And here she was, about to add another layer to that complex tapestry of feelings.

Presence took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She may not have been prepared for this moment, but then again, who ever is truly prepared for the moments that change everything? All she could do now was dive into the deep end of this impossible situation and hope that somehow, against all odds, they'd all come out the other side a little less broken.

Funi's voice cut through Presence's reeling. "What can I offer you? I have Fanta and Sprite. I could also microwave some leftover pizza if you're hungry."

"Just water will do, thanks," Presence replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

As Funi disappeared again into what appeared to be a small kitchenette, Presence's attention was drawn to Kel's ghostly form now perched on the bed. He was fisting his hands in a gesture of encouragement, his face a mix of anxiety and determination.

Presence, feeling a surge of nervousness and irritation, flashed Kel her middle finger. But as the sound of Funi's returning footsteps reached her ears, she quickly transitioned the gesture into flipping her hair, her hand moving with an awkward flourish.

Funi re-entered the room, a glass of water in hand, just in time to catch Presence's odd hair-flipping motion. She paused, a flicker of confusion crossing her face before she handed over the water.

"So," Funi said, settling into a chair across from Presence, her posture tense. "You said you had something to tell me about Kel."

Presence took a sip of water, buying herself a moment to gather her thoughts. She could feel Kel's presence intensifying, urging her on. The weight of what she was about to say pressed down on her.

"Yes," Presence began, her voice soft but clear. "I know this is going to sound... well, crazy. But I need you to hear me out."

Funi leaned forward slightly, her eyes never leaving Presence's face. "Go on," she said, her voice a mixture of wariness and barely concealed hope.

Presence took a deep breath. "I see Kel... I mean he's here. Not physically, obviously, but... his spirit. His ghost. He's been trying to communicate, and somehow, I can see him. He has something important he needs to tell you."

The room fell silent. Funi's face cycled through a range of emotions - disbelief, anger, hope, fear - before settling into a mask of careful neutrality.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Funi asked, her voice low and dangerous. "Because if it is-"

"It's not," Presence interrupted, her tone urgent. "I swear to you, it's not. I know how it sounds, but-"

"Oh my God, were you the one who sent that stupid letter and empty USB?" Funi's voice was sharp, accusatory.

Presence and Kel's ghostly form both narrowed their eyes in confusion. "What?" Presence asked, genuinely perplexed.

Funi scoffed, her frustration boiling over. "What the fuck is wrong with all of you? Do you think this is all a game? Do you-"

Suddenly, Kel's ghostly form moved urgently, motioning for Presence to repeat his words. "Baby m..." he began.

Presence felt the weight of the moment settle on her shoulders. She was no longer just herself, but a channel, a bridge between two worlds. With a deep breath, she spoke the words that weren't hers, yet were meant for the girl in front of her.

"Baby m..."

A simple word, and suddenly, the storm in Funi's eyes calmed. Her gaze locked onto Presence's face with an intensity that was almost physical.

"It's me," Presence continued, channeling Kel's words.

"Stop," Funi whispered, but the word lacked conviction. It was a plea, not a command – a desperate attempt to hold onto the familiar shores of disbelief before being swept away by the tide of impossible truth.

Presence felt the words flow through her. The room seemed to shimmer around them, reality bending to accommodate this impossible moment.

"I remember the first day I saw you at a variety show in my high school," Presence recited, her voice taking on Kel's cadence. "You had come with your best friend, Tayo. You both had stolen away from your dormitories just to attend an activity in another school."

Funi's eyes widened, her face a mixture of disbelief and dawning recognition.

"You wore the prettiest green dress, but you were too shy to dance," Presence continued. "When you went to the balcony to get some air, I came to find you and I intentionally called you Keke. You said that wasn't your name and asked why I called you that, and I said you were a spitting image of Keke Palmer."

Funi faltered, her legs giving way as she sank onto the edge of her bed. Her face had drained of color, her eyes locked onto Presence with a mixture of fear and desperate hope.

"How... how could you know that?" Funi whispered, her voice barely audible. "Nobody else was there. Nobody else knew..."

Presence's voice softened as she continued, channeling Kel's memories with a mixture of tenderness and sadness. "We bonded over a lot of things, most especially, The Witcher series. You crushed on Henry Cavill, and I crushed on Anya Chalotra."

Funi's breath caught, a tiny gasp that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. Her hands trembled, fingers interlacing as if trying to hold onto something – sanity, maybe, or the last threads of disbelief.

"And whenever I said this," Presence went on, her voice taking on a hint of Kel's playful tone, "you'd get mad, pinch my ear, and make me say you're the most beautiful girl in the world."

The dam broke. A choked sob escaped Funi's lips, the sound of a heart simultaneously breaking and mending.

"And then I'd say," Presence continued, her voice gentle, "you don't need to make me say it. You are."

"Stop," Funi whispered, her voice breaking. She tried to fight the tears, to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was a losing battle. Tears rolled down her cheeks effortlessly, each one a testament to the love and grief that overwhelmed her.

Presence glanced at Kel, her heart clenching at the sight. Ghostly tears mirrored Funi's, his face contorted with pain. The raw emotion in the room was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to press in from all sides.

Presence's own eyes welled up as she looked from Funi to Kel and back again. Her heart bled for them both – for the love they shared, for the cruel twist of fate that had torn them apart, and for the impossible situation they now found themselves in.

"Kel," Funi's whisper was a prayer, a name infused with a world of meaning. Her hand reached out, grasping at empty air, searching for a touch she could no longer feel. "Oh God, Kel, is it really you?"

The question hung in the air, fragile and hopeful. Presence swallowed hard, fighting back her own tears as she became the voice for the voiceless, the link between two worlds.

"He's here, Funi," she said softly, her words a gentle affirmation of the impossible. "He's right here with you."

___________________________________
Drop a vote, leave a comment, and perhaps even share with a friend. Appreciate it!🤍