Page 114 of The Sound of Him

Nolan rolls up the wet cuff of my sweatshirt, over and over, until it’s nestled near my elbow, dry against my skin. Then he rolls the other to match.

“Do you think you can eat some more?”

I don’t want to.

This isn’t fair.

Ghosts shouldn’t have to do the hard stuff. Shouldn’t have to eat. Drink. Talk-

Well… I guess I’ve got the talking part handled.

Maybe eating will be next?

“Matt?”

Not my name.

Not my life.

Not my, not my, not my -

“Okay, it’s okay. I’ll save it for you, how about that? I’ll wrap it and put it in the fridge.”

I walk away. I climb the stairs. I pause in the hall, wondering if I was supposed to wait for Nolan. Trying to remember if I had even answered him.

I consider going back down. My stomach is turning and turning. I walk to the bedroom instead. I add my guilt about it onto the pile inside my chest, trying not to notice that it’s starting to get too full, clogging the base of my throat, just another form of suffocation.

I barely make it to the bathroom before throwing up.

I feel so empty after.

Empty, empty, empty.

There’s something on my bed when I manage to get to it. It’s - it’s an iPod. It's one of the later versions, the kind that came out right before the iphones got popular instead, so it still has the big touchscreen.

The wire of the two white earbuds is carefully wrapped around the device.

There's a piece of paper folded beneath it.

Matt,

I had to leave for a few hours. I promise I'll be back. There's no guarantee who might be in my office while I'm gone. I just don’t want you to be surprised by whoever it is, if you come in without knocking. I'm sorry about that.

This is yours now. Listen to anything you want, but I made you a playlist. It's the first one in the list. I hope it helps.

Take care of that cute bunny. Take care of yourself. Hide for as long as you need. Bring a pillow, if you go under your bed. A blanket, too. Let your hiding place be soft. You deserve soft things.

I'll be back before sunrise. Come hide with me after that - if you want.

Ace

I don’t feel quite so empty anymore.

I tuck the note and iPod into my front pocket, right alongside my bunny. I drag my blanket off the bed, then my pillow. It takes a little extra work and a few awkward twists of my body, but I manage to make a little nest under there.

It's soft.

Because Ace wants me to have soft things.