Haunting Harlow (1*+)

Harlow

“I know you can’t hear me, or see me, Harlow, and it’s kind of pointless talking to you but I need to get this out of here,” Caleb said, tapping his chest while walking closer to Harlow. 

“It just feels right to tell you what you’ve done to me. How you’ve made me feel since you came into my life.”  

“That first day that you got here, when you moved in, that was hard. It was probably the hardest day that I’ve had, well, the hardest since I died, at least. Seeing you go through my things, my own personal things, really pissed me off. I hated it. I hated you, for what you were doing. They were mine and you had no right. No, right at all, but there was nothing I could do about it, other than watch you decide if my things were worth you keeping or should be discarded like they meant nothing. ”  

“Then, when you found my portfolio, I was livid. Nobody ever saw that portfolio. Nobody at all. It was private, just for me, but then you looked at the sketch that Annie had done and something happened. I can’t really put it into words but seeing the way that you looked at it, the way your eyes took in every bit of pencil on the paper, I realized that you understood. You understood the feelings, the emotions, and that small bit of yourself that goes into a piece of artwork. It, I don’t know, warmed me up a little, I suppose.”  

Caleb shook his head. “I guess, being alone all this time, that I'd become as cold as the lake that I ended up in. It had been a while since I’d been around people and seeing you, in my home, with my things, had hurt. I’m not going to deny that it hurt a hell of a lot, but at that moment, when you looked at that sketch, it hurt a little less.”  

Caleb, at the side of the bed, watched Harlow while she slept peacefully, next to Chantelle.  

“Watching you, as you packed my belongings into boxes, that hurt too, but when I saw you taking them to the summer house, I felt that you cared, not that you knew about me. Not then, you didn’t.”  

“You even managed to make me smile. When you kept the portrait and photo album, calling me My Adonis. Me, an Adonis. I’ve been called a lot of things but never that,” Caleb laughed as he reached out to stroke Harlow's hair.  

“I wanted you to know that your Adonis was with you but I didn't, know how too. I wanted to touch you and I just reached out and you closed your eyes. I knew that you had felt it. I wasn’t expecting you to, but you did. I knew I could move small objects, like the sketch, but I didn’t know I could touch people. I wish I could have felt how soft your skin is but you felt my touch and that’s enough for me.”  

“I didn’t expect you to do what you did. I didn’t expect you to have that reaction and I felt ashamed, at first, touching you while you pleasured yourself but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to do those things to you so badly so I touched you more, and more. I didn’t want to stop. I can’t and I won’t ever be able to touch you like that but I want to, so badly. That hurts. It hurts more than anything I’ve ever been through before.”  

“I don’t even know how this has happened. I mean, how does a dead guy fall in love with a living, breathing woman? I’ve never been in love with anyone before and wouldn’t have thought it possible for me to love someone now, but then you turned up, Harlow. You came and you,” Caleb sighed, his dark eyes looking thoughtful.

“You came and I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m doing this, sitting here, I mean, talking to you, trying to tell you all of this. You can’t hear me. You’re never going to know. s**t, man. Watching you sleep, looking so peaceful. You don’t know how hard it is, Harlow. You’ve got no idea how much I want to hold you. How much I want to lie there with you in my arms, holding you tightly, but I can’t. I can't f*****g do that because I’m this… this nothing. I’m nothing and I want to be your everything.”  

If Caleb could have cried, he would have cried rivers of salty tears. Never had he wanted someone as much as he wanted Harlow and it broke him.  

“I wish, I truly do, that we could have met before I died. I know that you would have made me the happiest man to have ever walked the earth and I know that because of how happy you’ve made me now,” he told her, stroking her face.   

Harlow murmured in her sleep and rolled over, facing Caleb.  

“You'll be waking soon, and then you’ll take a shower. I’ll stroke your ribs, in just the right spot, the one that makes your eyelids flutter. I love that they do that. I love the way you tuck you’re toffee-colored hair behind your ears, the way your eyes shine brightly when you look at art. Your little quirks. I love them all.”  

Caleb tried to place his hand in hers, but his hand, without substance, passed right through. As it did, Harlow squeezed her fingers around her blanket and a groan of pleasure left her slightly parted lips.  

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me, Harlow. I would give anything, anything at all, to hold just one tiny bit of you. To feel your warmth next to me. To smell you, taste you, to touch every bit of you. I want you, Harlow, so badly it's painful. Watching you every day. Watching you get f****d by your lover. Watching everything you do and knowing I won’t ever be involved. Knowing that I won’t ever mean the same to you, as you mean to me. I love you, Harlow. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life.”  

Caleb watched her. He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath. He watched the shadows crawl across her face as the night passed and the sun began to rise. He watched her slowly open her eyes, looking right at him, but not seeing him sitting there, watching her with his love-filled, dark eyes.   

Reaching out, Caleb ran his thumb across Harlow's beautifully kissable lips and smiled as they themselves, curved into a soft, warm smile.  

“Good morning,” she said, sleepily, looking straight through Caleb and out towards the lake.   

In Caleb's eyes, those words weren’t for the lake. That good morning and beautiful smile was for him.