Archive of Our Own

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Night 1

It’s all become so dull. So monotonous. All my life I’d dreamed of this spectacular life full of character and whimsy. A job I loved, a house that’s a testament to life, and a lover who thinks I carry the moon and stars. But as life droned on the more and more I had to compromise. Even that was.

Ever since I was younger I’d been obsessed with the occult. Hauntings, myths, cryptids, horrors and the like. Things that make your skin crawl, and leave you with nightmares for days afterwards. Drawn to it like a moth to a flame. This deep connection to old, tormented things. Seances and the like common as soon as I was given my first spirit board.

As soon as I had freedom, spending my time in graveyards or places suffocating in death. Not doing anything weird, I was respectful the whole time. Cleaning off graves if some ever needed it, just keeping the souls that were stuck there company. Growing used to the shocks and frights that come with the territory. Seeming to haunt these places just as well as the ghosts themselves at times. Seeing some truly spectacular things during my late night skulking's, more than some see in a single lifetime.

It took years of saving and working, hoping and dreaming. Days, weeks, months, years being pressed thin. Squeezed me of all the things I loved, and interests I had. Redirected, and forced into places and things I didn’t want to be. But I held on to this one hope, this one dream no matter what happened still lingered deep in the dark that was forming in my chest ever since I was young.

To romance a ghost. Or to fuck a ghost if we’re being completely honest. But I’m not picky on the specifics.

I’d spent months researching as soon as I saw how much I had saved. I didn’t even care if it was in this country, it just needed to be haunted. Homes with this characteristic are alarmingly cheaper than other homes so in truth I had my pick, I just had to be sure. It couldn’t

maybe

be haunted. It
had
to be.

Eventually I found this house. A home built in 1868, the oldest house on the block. The original owner died there the same year it was finished being built. The woman selling it, Liza Smith, says she inherited it from her grandfather. She’s had an incredibly hard time selling it, every buyer who even got close backed out after one night in the house. No furniture has ever been moved, nothing has ever been changed, and it was upheld and maintained for many years till their estate ran out of money.

Standing as a testament to time and its era, staying the same as everything around it changed. Ms. Smith was eager to get the house out of her possession, she herself even emailed me claiming to have tried staying there. She didn’t even make it to the night time with her family, too terrified to even make it through the night. But this was over 20 years ago, and she’s not a young woman anymore unfortunately.

I couldn’t help but thinking, what if no ones been brave enough to stay longer than a night yet? Officially cementing myself in the idea of at the very least befriending a ghost.

In her final emails before the purchase, she stated where most of the activity took place and how. Seeming like typical poltergeist shenanigans, most of the activity being in the enormous library. The pride of the house, where books seem to fly off the shelves, and things move on their own. The doors locked shut from the inside during certain times at night.

But the most eerie part is the pianos. All original to the house, same as all the bookshelves. Every room contains at least one of each, but unlike the bookshelves, the pianos are far more worn and weathered. They haven’t survived the test of time as well as anything else, almost as if the ghost has been pushing them along. The ones still able to play, seeming to pluck repeatedly as the sun sets. Playing the same note over and over again till that chord snaps, or the key breaks.

That of all things piques my interest. Not even bargaining with her on the price, buying it up quickly with extra to push the proceedings along. And I even had money to spare for any repairs I’d need to make.

The house itself seems fine, having paid several inspectors to check the house out before I bought it. Only one out of the three willing to go inside, with not a lot of surprising things brought to my attention. The foundation is fine, windows and doors secure, no holes or leaks. Any documents stating the last work done on the house was in 1923, when the home was wired for electricity and that was it. So who knows what will arise after it’s in my possession. It's likely in need of some overdue maintenance.

I quit my job and found an easy work from home one in the same town as the house. Ensuring I don't have to leave the house unless it's absolutely necessary. It was like all the stars aligned for me to finally fulfill my dreams. Everything falling into place, making all that pummeling for all those years truly worth it. Ready for a comfortable, haunted life I have ahead of me. Packing away my basic things, and donating anything I didn’t, since the home is fully furnished.

Seeing the house for myself was like nothing I’d ever seen. As soon as it was visible I got goosebumps. The house is a Victorian era home nestled away in between townhouses. Like a time traveling marvel, a steep roof, with intricate shingles adding to its depth. Metal detailing roughing the top of the roofline. A few turrets adding to the delicate woodwork and fairytale like qualities. Elegant windows, and wooden trim hand sculpted by skilled artisans.

As I approach from the front gate, my car parked to the brim on the curb, with everything I own. The size of the home even more immense as I’m under the weight of its shadow, the two stories so much taller with the height of the roofs. The front path and garden overgrown, roots and vines tangled in almost every square inch. Gorgeous flowers, and trees littering every inch this time of year.

A large, expansive porch with ornately carved wood railings and pillars along the edge and staircase. Fluted wood at the end of the stairs, adding both safety and elegance to its architecture. And weathered wood that creaks with every step. Trusting the hand made craftsmanship will hold up as I don’t hesitate to put all my weight on it.

Admiring all its features, ironwork lights that twists and twirls. A large imposing double front door with dated iron handles, and elegant floral etched glass. The door itself, heavy and solid, hard to move, my hand grabbing at the handles. Pulling with all my weight to open it. The doors enter to pristine, untouched floors. The same as the day they were laid. An immense, sweeping staircase, wooden steps but tiled going up. None of them are the same, with delicate hand painted designs. And a banister the swirls along with it. The details show Victorian excellence, and immense love and detail put into the features of this home by the builder, and owner.

As soon as I’m inside I’m overcome with a feeling I know too well. A tingle in my spine. Every hair standing up. Taking a deep breath to let the feeling wash over me, my hands forming fists to release them once again. A feeling I've known so well for so long, that sensation that would wash over me every time I stepped foot in a cemetery, graveyard, or crypt.

There’s definitely a presence here.

Shaking it off to resume my look around, the only things I saw were from drone footage the realtor lazily took. The exterior being what i expected but the insides even more grand than I thought. Built to host parties, and guests. Magnificent, whimsical features adorning every inch to impress all that walk in, just like the exterior.

The house is spacious, yet cozy. Deep warm tones. Soaring ceilings, and regal arches with carved patterns and gnarled glass panels. Large bay windows, heavily draped, and a reverie of stained glass details on them. The walls draped with the softest of wallpapers, birds in flight, swirling florals, evoking timeless romance. Carved ornate molding holds every room's edges, adding a delicate touch to the ironwork light features. The house is littered with dated furniture, large upholstered chairs, seating areas, large, filled bookcases, and a dilapidated piano in almost every room.

But every surface is covered in a cover, dust settled everywhere. In everything. The air is thick with it. Spiderwebs and dead creatures curled up in the corners of almost every room. Dreading the clean up ahead of me, and readying a potential call to a maid service so that I don't have to alone. Still meandering about, admiring the home's features and rooms.

My heart racing as I explore every single breathtaking room, even going upstairs before exploring the one I want to see the most. The library.

The doors are almost larger than the front doors, but thankfully lighter. The room itself has multitudes of brown, ceiling to floor bookshelves, a giant window opposite the door, plenty of sitting room, and two pianos.

The only room with two

. Every surface in the room without a cover, instead littered with papers and books, and only two chairs are uncovered too.

Good

. Making a note to myself to return to this room tomorrow, see if anything changes. Propping the doors open, and trying my best to jam them that way. Keep them from being closed again in case our spectral roommate pays us a visit.

Unpacking the car was easy, most of my things just belonging in the master bedroom. Replacing the mattress, and busying myself with emptying my boxes before the sun started to set. Knowing before I even see a clock or window, the eerie sound I'd been warned about started to echo throughout the house. My teeth rattling as it hits my ears, making me wince. A single off key piano note being played continuously, unrelenting, unwavering.

At first it rattles my brain, my hair standing up again as soon as I hear it. My body covering in goosebumps as the sound resonates throughout the house. The single key ringing through the halls, up the stairs, and into the room I’m standing in. Somehow knowing exactly what room the sound emanates from as soon as it slithers into my ear. Like a rope, or spectral arm, grabbing me and trying to pull me in.

The library.

I flip a coin mentally, trying to decide what to do. Should I disturb it? Or should I let it be? But my curiosity gets the better of me. Accepting the pull. Taking a deep breath as I leave the bedroom, swiftly making my way down the stairs as I try to pretend like the sound isn’t bothering me. Isn’t making me fill with a sense of dread for some reason. Not making my heart sink further and further every time the note dies only to resume, pressed again.

The house is chilling, almost freezing me the further down the stairs I get. Hardening my joints, and making them even harder to move. The air thick with a smell, unknown to me, almost like humidity absorbing into my lungs with every heavy breath. The only light from windows, moonlight leaking in accentuating the dust polluting the air. Only adding to the feeling that’s trying to force its way up my throat, fear bubbling up in my body the more I will myself to move.

The feeling just growing worse as I approach the library. With every step I grow colder, my breathing slow as my every movement creaks even though I try my hardest to step softly. But I’m sure it was aware of my presence as soon as I started walking, unable to silence the sounds of the old weathered home. Every sound made now like gunshots in my ear, the chilling silence behind the chiming note still heavy enough to paralyze even the bravest of people. A deep seeded chill rippling through my extremities as soon as I'm in front of the doors, still propped open.

The piano key being played at an unbearably loud pitch, my ears ringing as I enter the door frame. My foot barely brushed into the room this time, almost like dipping my toe into a pool, when with a snap it all stops. Sudden and alarming. My eyes blowing wide, my heart thrumming in my chest, ears, and temples as terror tries to grab ahold of me.

Various keys aggressively played at once in a sudden sharp burst, as things fly all over the room. Violently pushed by an unknown force. Only enough to stumble back for the doors to slam shut, with the forming disarray. Like a violent tornado suddenly struck the room, gutting it of all life and order. my heart barely able to keep up as it races, panting as I’m left frozen, standing in my braced state.

My hand meets my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt as my heart aches. My mind finally processing what just happened, as my lungs continue to gasp for air, all of it startled out of me. My knees becoming jelly as excitement builds in me. Falling to my knees as I wait for my adrenaline to give in, my hands shaking as I move to stare down at them. A smile growing on my delirious lips.

I can’t wait!

Month 1

It took a few weeks to get settled. I was fully unpacked in just a day, but my things don’t fit in with the rest. I didn’t bring much, so it’s not like I have a lot to put out, the place is well furnished anyway. But it’s obvious. Plastic mass produced trinkets, on old hand crafted wooden shelves. My phone charger, and lamp, on an antique carved bedside table. My modern, massive horde of clothes, crammed into a large, etched wardrobe. Plastic hangers on a beautiful brass rod. All of which are surely older than even my grandmother lived to be.

And unfortunately, the internal workings of the house agree with me on that sentiment. The plumbing was a mess, and most of the electrical was fried. I'm lucky this place was cheap, because fixing all of that cost me almost more than the house itself. And some of it isn’t completely fixed, but some of that I can’t blame the contractors, plumbers, or electricians for. The library is just a dead zone for all things modern apparently.

But, work was a breeze. Easy money, with competent people, and a light schedule. It’s everything I could’ve dreamed for in a job, since I HAVE to have one. But the real dream come true has been my visits. When the single note rings through the house.

No matter what I’m wearing the sound chills me to my core, the house zapped of all heat in a radius of the piano that’s being toyed with. Or if I stand far enough down the hall, and I'm extra quiet that it forgets I'm there, I can see things moving occasionally. Books, papers, quills, even the curtains. Opening before morning every night. Things never being in the same place as they were last time. One item in particular though never moving but, still worn in.

A large leather armchair that’s always pointed towards the massive window. I've tried moving it, but it always ends back up in the same spot. The notches in the rug below the foot rests show how long it’s stayed in this place, the colors are even more vibrant from its lack of sun exposure. The chair itself gives me a deep sense of sadness that I don't understand, and I can never bring myself to sit in it, despite its view. I just feel like I shouldn't. Instead, I picked a chair of my own to claim.

I’ve even flipped through some of the papers and books the person fusses with every night. It only took a few glances at any shelf to realize it was poetry, almost every book. Every piece of paper filled with it, beautifully written in a long, elegant writing from the same time as the house. Harsh, movements, with beautiful comparable swirls in the ink, and even smudging as if it were hand written.

It's beautiful, breathtaking really. Most of it about desolate death, the crushing, unyielding pain of forever in limbo. The same place he died in. He’s sad and unhappy here, and I'd like to think I can fix that for him, but that’s all in due time.

All this makes me think our ghost is a poet, or at the very least, a fan of poetry. And although it’s not my favorite genre, I know of and own some poetry books. I sorted through to find my favorite of the bunch, spending my down time for a few days reading it in the library before finally retiring it to a spot on the shelves. And I left it be for the night. The modern, paperback even sticking out next to the uniformity of the brown, leather bound, hardcover collection here.

I felt like a little kid waking up on Christmas, hoping for a mountain of presents under the tree. A toothy smile on my face as soon as my eyes opened. I practically threw my blankets to the other side of the room, I rushed out of bed so fast, stumbling in my socks on the hardwood.

Clinging to the railing as I almost fall down the stairs, before sliding down the hall to the large library doors. Already elated at the sight of them open today, trying to contain my excitement in case they can see me as I enter the room. My book is on the desk with a small note on top, the same writing as all the other papers below it. Reading:

Greetings New Owner,

In creaking floors and dust settled low,

I'm here to share the tales I know.

So fear not, friend, let joy ignite-

For in this home, we share the night!

-Heinrich W.

A moniker of old, a story yet untold.

I’ve been gnawing at my lip since I read it, it tastes like blood. I just have to know more about him, quickly spending as much time as possible in the library now. Ready to try my hardest to force my way further into his liking, and at least coexist.

Month 3

I’ve been watching and reading a lot of things I don’t usually watch or read. Smut littering my search history on practically every device. Although if we‘re being specific, voyeurism. And I assure you, unlike a teenager's excuse, this one is real. It's purely research.

Google wound up being no help in my endeavor. Every outlet, website, article, blog, all of it couldn’t help me with this. They all suggested stuff for normal men, physically here men. Men who you’ve actually seen, now that I think about it. They all suggested flirting, touching, dates, things I can’t do with Heinrich. So I went broad, casting a wide net. Turning my research to ways to get a man without actually speaking to him. Porn and smut just happened to be the better tool for the task.

I was as covert as I could be, I’m not sure yet but I don’t think he likes to go to other parts of the house so most of my research was done when and where he couldn’t haunt me during it. Because I am embarrassed by this. I assure you. But I want to get fucked by this ghost eventually.

I’ve come up with 3 options. Wearing lingerie, wearing nothing, and just masturbating where he can see. All viable choices that would be the surefire way of securing any man's sexual attention. And surely a repressed creative one from the 1800s.

Right?

So I started simple, wearing something a little more exhilarating to sleep. Dawning a black, lace dress, with frilly fabric along the straps, cups, and bottom hem of the dress. With a matching lace black underwear, the lace forming a heart right above my ass. An outfit that’s brand new, and seemed like a top seller. Twirling in front of the mirror as I adore the way it hugs me, before throwing on the matching, mesh and lace robe. The bottom barely falling lower than the dress.

The cold air truly penetrates my skin as I saunter into the library. Feeling pins and needles in my hands and feet, my nose and ears tingling as the freezing cold air envelopes me. Trying to seem as casual as possible as the weight of something stabs into me. Pretending like the unrelenting single note still doesn’t rattle me to my core. Almost maddening. Repressing the shivers, and fear as it tries to show itself and out me.

Pretending to fuss with some of my things in the library as I bend over the desk, my items starting to leak into his. Or maybe my things just repelling his, keeping a good radius from my things. Taking over my own spot on this massive surface. pulling my hair to my better side, acting like I’m organizing things as I continue to bend over. Arching my back, as my dress and cover ride up, exposing my underwear. Standing up straighter when I straighten up, accenting my chest as I finish feigning interest in my things. The robe even starts to fall open, as I leave the library.

Keeping the bundle I leave with in my arms small so nothing good is obscured. Barely able to contain my excitement as I made my way down the hall, and up the stairs. Giddy as I approach my door, practically bouncing off the walls.
Almost screaming into my pillow as soon as I’m in the room alone, and hidden under my blankets.

It was the first time he's actually let me in the library at night.

I walked around, and slept in that for a little while, spending more time in the library at night. Draping my legs over the edge of my own chair, tucked away in the corner. Pointed so, if I sit correctly, I can see both his chair and the piano. Most of the room honestly. It’s where I’ll hope to actually

see him

. As I read my books or waste time on my laptop, I do it from this spot. Every movement, every dust mite in a sunbeam, every shift of a drape in the drafty room, drawing my attention away from what I'm doing.

I'm not making any more progress though. So I'm forced to take it a little further, and reveal even more skin. Men seem to like it when you show a lot but still don't show everything, to be teased with the idea of what's underneath. Which is also kind of a relief. I’m secure in my body but I'm not ready to walk around here nude yet. I need a bit more of a reaction from him to take that next step, know if I'm actually getting under his spectral skin. Affecting him the way I hope I am.

I pulled out my best, and favorite, two piece set of lingerie. A black, and flesh tone set, with lace butterflies along the cups, and underwear. It fits me like a glove, and actually matches the whimsy of the house really well. He's the one who built it, he'd probably like it. At least I hope, all of this is just me guessing and jumping to conclusions. I just want my intentions to be clear.

Just like the last time, as soon as that note rings, I slip the set on. My heart sinking immediately, that smell I can't quite place returning. Not even bothering with a robe or cover this time, just traipsing down the stairs like I'm not shaking in my core. The terror, not quite building like it has been, panic not filling every cavity in my being. But what I do feel is something else, his stare stabbing me in the back as soon as I pass the threshold. Shivers rippling up my spine, almost immobilizing my legs.

But I muster through it, push through, willing my legs to move forward. Trying to continue my confident stride, unease settling down deep inside me. Resuming my usual nightly activities in the library like nothing was out of the ordinary, like its business as usual. Like my tits, and ass aren’t out. Throwing my legs over the edge of my chair, flipping through my book as leisurely as possible. My eyes following the lines on the page but not absorbing any of it, as I pretend to read.

The key doesn't waver, the cold doesn't relent, but the intensity of this moment doesn't feel as

stern

as the previous ones. As stiff, or brooding. I just wish I could see him, see the eyes that are burning holes into my skin. I only know because it's the kind of feeling you get when you're in the woods, or in a big dark room, alone. Every hair on your body standing up, the constant need to look over your shoulder just to check and make sure. That eerie sense of dread, and uncanny panic of being watched by something that may or may not actually be there.

And I can't shake it, I didn't want this to phase me but it does. It almost burns. He's a lot more affected by this outfit than the last, or at least more intrigued. Trying to fight my want to kick my feet, and bite my lip as I grow giddy at his attention. But that's all these outfits, and sets amounted to. Staring, and uneasy feelings, but nothing else. Not even a note.

I might have to push him a little further.

Month 5

I tried the sets and lingerie for a while, I really did. I was as respectful and patient as I could be for a person as determined as I am. I'm a woman on a mission. And unfortunately that means I'm going to keep pressing. And I'll be truly shocked if this doesn't work, I almost am that nothing before this did.

When that ivory key was pressed, reverberating around the large home, I stripped myself of everything. Shaking before I even open the bedroom door, almost embarrassed at my actions. But this is no time to play coy, especially after everything I've already tried and done. And who knows,

today could be the day

. Trying my hardest to stay motivated, as I repress my shame.

My hand hesitates for the first time in ages, quivering before I wrap my fingers around the practically frozen doorknob. My fingers are so warm it makes it condensate a little at the temperature shock. His haunting aura bleeding through the house. Taking a deep breath before finally leaving my bedroom, the dreaded feeling seemed to run rampant in my chest and mind. Practically holding my breath as I travel down the stairs, my knees almost giving in completely the second I bend them. Shaking under the weight of me, fighting the want to buckle.

I'm moving painfully slow, even slower as I round the bottom of the stairs to the hall. It is just stretching, growing longer and longer with every step I take. Expecting my vision to spiral, the walls to start twisting, or something else stereotypical you'd see in a horror movie. Every creak of the floorboard sets my every nerve ending on fire as I resume my trek down the extending hallway.

Who knew being naked in a haunted building could be so exhilarating.

Taking a deep breath and holding it as I waltz into the library. Making sure to sway my hips, and push out my chest. My path is a beeline for my chair, this time trying to place myself as eloquently as I can into the seat. But as soon as I turn around, and the feeling of his eyes burrowing into my skin takes over, his note wavers.

Just for a fraction of a second, like his finger hesitates. Pulling away from the key for only a millisecond, softening it enough for me to notice. My eyes catching a glimpse of him, flicking into existence in shock before he's gone. The note finished and over, all the cold zapping back out of the room. Its usual everyday feel, its daytime innocence, and warmth, returning. My brows furrow as I finally sit in my seat, left bewildered. Absolutely perplexed, as guilt now accompanies my sinking heart.

That was not the reaction I was hoping for.

I only saw him for a second, not even. His being transparent, and opalescent. Standing, not sitting by the piano as he wearily presses that key, looming over the piano. His features, muted and toned down by the ghostly traits. Round glasses, short potentially brown hair. An ovular face shape, with high cheekbones, and I think I saw the softest dent in his chin. His lips, and face in a baffled expression, almost cute. His ghostly figure stiffening, if he were a person I'm sure he'd have been bracing himself, taken aback. His hand and being seeming to shake as the note wavered, before he flickered away. Leaving me alone.

I stayed in the library for the rest of the night, hoping with every ounce of my being he'd return. Hoping the key would return. Hoping the cold, that terrifies most, comes back. Reading assorted things, working, even pacing as I think about damage control. What this could mean, how this might have set me back months. Before curling up on the upholstered couch next to his leather chair, unsure of when I finally fell asleep.

Only jumping awake, quickly pushing off the cushioning as the morning sun bathes the room and my face. A blanket inexplicably draped over me, at some point as I slept. Surely Heinrichs doing. Still no note but his actions are starting to speak louder than words. Turning over, and pulling the blanket up, hiding the blush on my face. So eager for how this might unfold in my favor, and how he might at least be coming around to me.

Month 7

Slowly but surely I got more used to walking around my new home nude. The shades drawn, the curtains with any street or public view covered, and closed. Especially because of the house, walking around like this felt…wrong. But it's my house now, who's to tell me what I can and can't do in it anyway.

Things with Heinrich have returned more or less to normal. The cold, and horror drenched feeling seems to lessen as the weeks go on. Growing used to his antics. His note announcing nightfall right on time everyday, but out of the ordinary more and more papers are piling up on his parts of the desk and leaking into the other parts of the room. Nearly covering every surface after a few weeks.

I tried to be decent in some way, give him his privacy, especially if I'm not going to have any. But it got to be such a large array of papers, with assorted types of poems, and writing scrawled on them. I'd do everything I could to peel my eyes away from the elongated, elegant writing, only intending to read what's directly given to me. But I'm clearly rotten to the core, my curiosity getting the better of me once again. Like it always does.

The name Clementine littering the tops of many I caught a glimpse of, truly damning my ability to hold back. Not to invade his private writings, but that oddity of knowing - that got me into all sorts of trouble when I was younger. That got me to where I am now and pushes me to do it, to peak. To read. I feel awful about it. I do. Besides, it's broad daylight, and it's not like they’re hidden. What he doesn't know won't kill him…again…

Leaving my comfortable place in my chair to one of the many paper arrays on almost every surface. Indecisive over which stack to pull from, before gingerly stepping my way to the desk. Bracing myself for the largest heap of all, finding a particularly beautifully written poem addressed to her. Reading;

Clementine,

In candlelight, where shadows blend,

Thou hands, like whispers, bend,

Fingers glide on ivory plains,

Weaving love through soft refrain.

Each note, a cry, a lover's plea,

A serenade of harmony,

In every chord, a heartbeat found,

In the melodies, our souls bound.

Your hands, my love, used to compose our dreams…

Noticing once it's in my hands that the sides are crinkled slightly, like his hands tensed around it for a moment when it was finished. I'm sure if he could cry there might be tears on it. It's sad but sweet, and seems like he really loved her and her piano playing. Which explains a lot, about a few things. But what sticks out to me is that he doesn't mention her looks, or anything else, adoring her hands in particular.

His love for her feeling rooted in something deeper than appearances, or societal standards for the time, but a deep mutual love of the creative arts that they both shared. This woman is surely gone, and I know she likely broke his heart based off what I just read, but I can't help but wonder if he could ever write about me. Affectionately fawning over my hands as I work on something that seems so mundane to me, but would mean much more to him.

Sitting down in the chair that's untucked from its spot at his half of the desk, the cold wood shocked me as my thoughts run rampant. First thinking about what he'd have to say about them, and me, but then it quickly turned, innocently pondering how I could get his attention on my hands when I remembered my third option. And

it is daytime

, It's not like I even run the risk of him seeing me right now anyway. This could be a practice run.

My hands leaving the parchment back on the desk as my hands start to eagerly explore my body. The sunlight coming in from the large window, looking into the immense backyard, keeping me as warm as I could ever need to be. My fingertips tracing patterns as they wander down, light and soft as they move, nearly tickling myself.

Trying to steady my breath as my heart starts to race, gulping down the lump forming in the back of my throat as I clamp my eyes shut. My fingers finally falling to my thighs, continuing to tease myself as I try to work up the courage to move to my center. Dancing around the insides of my thighs and over my hip bones, starting to feel my pulse thrum in my clit. Gently readjusting myself in the seat, leaning back to allow my legs to fall further open.

My eyes remain closed, indulging the sinful thoughts coursing through my skull. Fantasizing about the glimpse of the man I saw months ago at this point, my fingers finally pulling inward. My pussy now eagerly anticipating my fingers' attention, my middle finger moving over the slight wet growing between my legs. Before tracing up to my clit, my other hand moving back up towards my breast, thumbing at my nipple. My eyes opening lazily, meeting a part of the poem on the table in front of me.

I wonder if he'll write about how my fingers glide…

My middle finger circling my clit, making my thighs pulse at the teasing, and my breath hitch. Moaning softly as I start to massage the cluster of nerves, my thumb working in unison. Not worrying about my noises as I work, closing my eyes again as I embrace the feelings and pleasure. My body growing hot as my fingers start to speed up, my breath erratic as my hand desperately moves.

Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth as I chew, my hand abandoning my breast to slowly work two fingers into my pussy. My fingers breaking the surface tension, my growing wet starting to leak down my fingers and pussy, surely onto his desk chair. Humming out moans as my fingers inside start to curl once knuckle deep, the others still circling my clit. My thighs quivering, soon becoming full body shakes rippling up my spine.

Meanwhile my thoughts are growing even more filthy, would he keep his glasses on? What kind of poetry would he write about me? What would it be like to have him doing this for me? Could I see him blush? So many ideas tainting my sane mind, corroding me to my core. Filling with lust, envy, and even jealousy for a woman that hasn't been alive for over a hundred years.

My fingers still working in and out of me, my pussy twitching around them at some of the thoughts I'm having. My body is even reacting and wanting for a, essentially, non-existent man. Finally releasing my lip as I start to taste blood, more shameful moans and pants escaping me as I work. “Heinrich-” I mumble out weakly, partly wondering what it would sound like coming off my tongue like this. Both my hands working in tandem still, the fingers inside pressing at places deep inside that make my muscles curl, and moans immediately leak out.

Willing my eyes open again, staring down to realize that even in the light I'm giving off immense heat now, almost sweating. Steam drifts off me as I notice my toes growing cold, and my nipples getting hard. The room losing all of its heat, my body too busy twitching and seething for my instincts to kick in. No key plays, no movement, but suddenly there are eyes on me. Using my fingers to toy with myself too much to allow any goosebumps to form, or for the hair on the back of my neck to stand up.

Keeping my eyes opened, half lidded staring down at my hands as I work. Praying they look good from whatever angle he's seeing me from, trying to make delicate work of pushing my fingers in and out of me. Embarrassment filling my face as I push through. Appeal to his interests as my fingers massage my clit, my movements trying to grow sloppy as I approach my end. But I maintain focus, my pussy starting to pulse at the looming feeling of being watched.

Holding it off as I work, my moans just grow breathless the more I tease. Panting as a blush starts to take my face. The fingers lazily work around my clit, my toes starting to curl with my fingers inside. Pushing and pulling me closer to my orgasm, like I'm on the very precipice of a steep cliff. A tremble working up my legs, as my body starts to resign to the orgasm buildings.

Weak as it overtakes me, my muscles in overdrive. My head slowly lolling back, my eyes dreamily open. Vision blurring, suddenly focusing on his intrigued face above me. Gasping suddenly in terror. Shocked and horrified as soon as my orgasm grips my body, euphoria shaking through me as my eyes press shut against my will. Unable to drink him in as I succumbed to the feeling, scared over the edge of the cliff face.

Finally willing my eyes open, my head still in the same spot, but he's gone again. Pouting through my pants, as I come down from my high. My arms resting on the arm rests as my heart beats unbearably fast, unsure of the culprit of its alarming rate. Before moving in the seat, now resting my elbows on my knees as I anxiously run my fingers through my hair, not even caring about what's covering my hands. My eyes wide, processing all that just happened.

Staring at the ground and my feet for I don't know how long. Feeling returning to my legs to stand up, deciding to shower and take up time before he’ll, hopefully, return again. Finally dressing in my comfortable night attire, after months of nothing, to function around the house. Even making dinner before daring to go into the library again, dreading what words he'll have to say about my decisions.

Returning to find a note in the center of my chair, the writing harsh and sharper than usual. Reading;

Hast thou forgotten I’m here?

Thy yearning fingers traced the air,

Moments lost to tender care,

Longing to feel the warmth of thou,

To weave a bond, a love so true now.

Thou hold the night with open arms

Embracing chills, the supernatural charms,

With every creaking floorboards sigh,

A breathless name, thy soft reply.

For every longing, there’s a thread,

And its thou that stirs the gentle dread,

In the stillness of thine home,

Where only shadows dare roam.

I beg of thee.

-H

I guess I got my answer, and it's not all bad at least. My fingers are yearning, and tender apparently. Smiling gleefully as I practically skip away with the note, visually completely disregarding the point. But I do get the point, I feel…guilty. He's pissed, and if I want to make any more progress I think I'm going to have to do this another way. I need the answer to the question I've been avoiding.

Who are you Heinrich?

Cozying into my bed, the poem tucked under my pillow before I laid down. Readying for the hours and mountains of research I'm about to do.

Month 9

First I reached out to the woman who sold the house to me, Mr. Smith. Her initial response saying it's sold, and she doesn't want it back (essentially no take backs!). And when I simply explained I was just curious about the ghost, I still never got a response. I assume she blocked me? or just doesn't want the risk of me maybe suing her for how shit the house was.

Since Ms. Smith was dodging me, I turned to the internet. Death certificates were not common practice at the time of his death so I turned to public records, my last resort being Church records. First trying digitized newspapers from the time at the local library, reading any and all obituaries for the year 1868, which wasn’t a lot. Finding nothing of use there. Soon turning to the historical society at the county clerk's office, crossing my fingers as I spoke to the woman at the front desk. And this did amount to a little something.

His full name was Heinrich James Waller. A scholar, and Poet. He died May 10th 1868 at the young age of 24. And his sister Adelaide was the person who reported his death, as well as a local doctor. His body, taken back with his sister, to England, for burial in the family plot.

But now that I knew his full name I could look into him more, especially since I know where he's from and where he was buried. Digging up anything I can find about him lurking deep in the web that is the internet, more of the puzzle that is him falling into place. A clearer picture is starting to form. Finding an article in some British college about graduates who died too young. People they thought could have affected the world. Heinrich was one of them, this one thing helping me find everything else I needed like a chain of events.

Eventually stumbling upon an official death certificate, and paperwork. A local doctor stated he died after a long struggle with a broken heart. Clementine had run off with his younger brother Edmund III. His sister, Adelaide, at his bedside the whole time reporting him quickly withering away despite her efforts to put him back together. Refusing food, water, and losing sleep, before he died in the house. In the library. In the leather chair that I can't move from its spot in the center of the room.

I'm left in shock after finding out this news. Guilt and humiliation for my previous actions incapacitating me as soon as I'm alone, tearing up as sobs start to form deep in my chest and rumble up my throat. He loved Clementine so much he let himself die after she broke his heart, she must have meant so much to him. My heart dropped at the things he must have been feeling, my heart almost breaking for him.

Why all the pianos are so destroyed. Why there was one in almost every room. Why he still writes mountains of poetry for her, especially since I've started to try to push him into a place he doesn't want to go. And why my pressing isn't working.

And now at night when I hear him press that key, the ivory note ringing through my head has a different meaning. Dread and terror are no longer what I feel, only sadness at the truth of its constant, destructive sound. Now desperately looking for other ways to find out more about Heinrich as a person. Fighting the urge to get rid of every single piano in the house.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Month 11
I spent a couple months borderline harassing Ms. Smith. Pestering her to no end to get the information I needed, or just any response at all from her. It took a while, I tell you! She REALLY thought I wanted to sue her over the house. When I could finally explain that that wasn't the case, she was actually kind of useful.
The house was called Waller Manor at one point, before his death at least. The house belonging to her grandfather Edward, Heinrichs Nephew, before Ms. Smith inherited it. Edward ran out of money to care for the house at some point in his lifetime, which is kinda stuff I already knew. But what I wanted to know was more about Heinrich. Who is he? How can I get to know him? Even make up for the fool I've made myself out to be.
Ms. Smith lives in town, apparently, welcoming me to her childhood home to snoop around her attic for anything her grandparents or great grandparents held onto from that time. Spending close to an hour rifling around, moving every box I could find to read what might be written about its contents. Dodging nails sticking out from the ceiling, and navigating the places of the floor I can and can't step on. I found a single box, or a trunk really, an old, worn tag attached. Belonging to Adelaide R.W. Heinrichs sister.
When I came back down with it she said I was welcome to it, she didn't even want it back. And she offered me a photo she thought I'd be interested in. It was of her grandfather from 1865, right after one of his siblings was born. It's the kind of family photo people take from after there's a new addition to the family. The adults lined up at the top, and 3 young kids lined up in front. The back depicts who all are in the image in order from left to right; Edmund, Adelaide and Newborn Anaise, Emma, Aria, Edward, Charles, and Heinrich.

And I'm shocked, trying to hide my loss of breath in front of Ms. smith. Heinrich, when he was alive and kicking. In a sepia, brown, orange tint, but it's him, the man I've seen twice total. His features are almost the same as when I saw him, bags under his eyes, drawn cheeks, but a charming smile. Light freckles littering his nose and cheeks. Wavy brown hair that almost falls in his eyes. He's cute. Especially with little Edward, seeming to be clinging to his leg, as they look at the camera.

Edmund, though, was nothing to write home about personally. Intentionally rolling my eyes and not even giving him a second glance as if some sort of ode to Heinrich. But the rest of the family was beautiful, Adelaide and Heinrich sharing the soft cleft chin, same as Edward. Charles looking adoringly at his wife, Adelaide, instead of the camera, his hands holding her close. And the two girls, Emma and Aria, who I assume are twins since they mirror one another, are even missing the same tooth in their smiles. It looks like such a happy, loving family. Too bad it crumbles only a few years later…
When I spoke to her after my invasion of her home, she filled in more holes for me that you can't really get from news articles, obituaries, or official forms. Because apparently it was the scandal of the family at the time. Almost giving me an entire history lesson!
Adelaide, Heinrich, and Edmunds parents died in 1854. Adelaide took care of her brothers and married Charles, when she was 18. He also liked the boys, and was well off for the time so he helped fund the boys' education. Heinrich being the only one who took full advantage of the access to education, Edmund couldn't have cared less. And as they got older the two brothers didn't get along.
Edmund was named after their father, as Heinrich didn't look like him when he was born. But as time passed they were practically clones, Heinrich looking identical to their father. Even his hobbies, interests, and intelligence. And Edmund III always hated him for it, or at least it was the tip of the iceberg according to Ms. smith. Eventually Heinrich left to study poetry and philosophy at Cambridge, Edmund staying behind with his sister and family. Assumingly to rake about, her words not mine.
As for Clementine, she was a childhood friend of Heinrichs, practically inseparable since they met in grade school. And I was right in their shared love of the arts, she was a piano virtuoso since he met her. She even followed him to Cambridge to study the piano, to become the marvel of the time. Heinrich adored her, and her dreams, proposing to her as soon as he could. Her answer was a resounding yes, she seemed to love him too.
Heinrich sent for a house to be built for them, for her, to start their life in when they're done with school and ready to get married. Writing constantly to sell his work to fund the project, and taking up extra work with professors. Adelaide, and Clementine's family, helping him in the build with ideas, and concepts. Even the right types of pianos to get. Ensuring to fill the home with the things she loves, and give her all the lavish things she could ever want for.
Once the house was finished, and they were graduated he traveled to the house to finish getting it ready for her. Sending her sweet letters, excited about a surprise he has for her and how he can't wait to start their life together. To marry the love of his life. But the only response he received was a short, two sentence letter from Clementine.

Unfortunately Ms. Smith doesn't know the two sentences, but she does know the name Edmund died with the third, which did put me at some ease. It was such a shock to the family when the news finally filtered to Adelaide's ears, rushing to her brother's side as soon as she heard. But nothing could have helped him I think. He was a truly passionate man, dedicated to her wholly. Entirely. He didn't want to imagine life without loving her in it, so he didn't.

Ms. Smith even said her grandfather Edward, who was only maybe 6 when Heinrich died, spoke poorly of Edmund but the world of Heinrich. Adelaide, and the rest of the family, never spoke to Edmund again after that. Never forgiving him. And I don't blame them. Who does that to their own brother?
When I finally return to the house every detail means something else to me. Every heart wrought in metal, or stained glass. Every flower etched into wood or glass. Every eclectic tile. Every floorboard. Every fucking decrepit, dilapidated, picked apart piano. He's trapped in the rejected testament of his love. Having to take a deep breath and blink away tears, before willing myself to enter the house again.
Lugged the box into the house, and dragged it upstairs. Trying to take advantage of the remaining sunlight and privacy of my room to break into this heavy case. Cozying on my bed, the box in front of me as I stare it down, contemplating what could be inside. Out of the attic, and free of its many layers of dust, it's kinda cute. Definitely a young girls memento box, or keepsake carrier. Lightly colored, and hand painted with delicate, pretty flowers, a large hand painted A across the top in the same paint as the flowers.
It only takes a small set of wire cutters to snap the weak, old lock holding it shut. The old air leaking out of it scented from an era long lost. The longer the smell saturates my lungs. I realize it's similar to the one I can't quite place when Heinrich lingers around. Appreciating the smell, as a light tingle travels up my spine. The smell is trying to trigger other sensations of unease and uncertainty.
The lid off, the contents jammed inside. It only all fits because it was forced to for so long. On top I find a child's blanket, a soft muted blue hand knit and incredibly soft. A hand stitched H , in a slightly darker blue, on one of the corners. Heinrichs I assume. Next I find an old bear, creepy to me but surely cute for its time. Its button, hollow eyes, and malformed stuffing unsettling me slightly. A poorly hand stitched Adelaide marking it along the bottom seam of its foot. But I don't see anything for Edmund, that doesn't really shock me though.
With the two largest items moved aside, I find mementos of her children's that are a lot better labeled. A tiny pair of shoes, a necklace with the twins inside, a small tie, and a hand knit floral sweater. All delicately placed, and well taken care of since the child stopped using them. A soft smile on my face at the gentle love of a proud mother. Tucking them to the side with their mothers bear, to find only a few more items.
My smile grew at the large stack of letters bound together with twine. Just thumbing through the envelopes, the outside all addressed to either Adelaide or Charles. Letters to one another from any time they were apart I assume, my heart almost skipping a beat at their sweetness. They really seemed to love one another, the stack large enough to know she tried to keep every single letter. Resigning them with the growing items on the bed, as I continue to dig to the bottoms of the box.

The last two things I find make my smile drop. An antique pocket watch stopped at 6:47 exactly. The inside engraved with the name Edmund James Waller. A family heirloom I guess. And a parchment that I recognize the handwriting of as soon as I see it. It's the same writing that litters the house, and every piece of paper in the library. From the notes addressed to me. She’d placed it face down at the bottom of the container, and as soon as I read it I understood why. Reading;

In shadows deep where whispers dwell,

A heart once bright, now cracked ashell,

Thy tender lies, like daggers, fell,

A haunting tale I cannot tell.

With golden dreams, we danced in light,

Yet loves embrace turned cold as night,

Betrayed by trust, my soul takes flight,

In silence bound, I fade from sight.

Goodnight.

-H

Dated at the top, May 10th 1868. The day he died. In my hand I'm holding the last thing he wrote. His declaration of heartbreak, and resignation to it. Finally letting himself let go. My hands shake, and my breath grows heavy. Tears started to well up in my eyes as I thought about how he must have felt. Even looking at the box, and the pieces of history it contains.
Staring at the photo Ms. Smith gave me again, as I run my fingers over his childhood blanket. A kind of softness modern threads, and yarns, can't quite replicate. Trying to take in even more of the dated image, and only image I have of Heinrich. His attire seems usual for the time, but I'm no historian. Matching pants, and vest, white dressier shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and some sort of tie? A bit more formal, but disheveled from the rest. A cowlick I didn't notice when I first glanced at it in the back of his hair.

Then I notice the pocket watch hanging from the pocket of his vest. The quality is poor, but it looks like the broken heirloom in the box. And thinking back, the few times I've seen him he didn't have it. Carefully tucking the rest of the items back into the box, anything pertaining to Heinrich remaining out. Holding the contents better now that I've removed some, and latching it the best I can.
Sitting on the bed with my assortment of items in front of me, contemplating what little items are left of Heinrich from his
time. Slightly saddened that this might be all his life was reduced to. But who is ever truly deeply remembered for more than a few generations before disappearing. Contemplating mortality and the idea of true remembrance for what felt like hours before brushing it off.

Tucking the poem under my pillow with the other while a plan now formulates in my head, or an idea really. I know what day he died now, I wonder if I'll be able to see him on that day. I've been here for almost a year though, I'd like to think I'd have caught on if that's the case. But maybe it also comes down to him, if he trusts me enough to let me see him. It could just be the day he can appear the clearest if that's the case.
We’re approaching territories I hadn't fleshed out before. Concepts that cant be proven or truly known. I’ll know when I know, I guess.

Month 12
I eagerly awaited the next 10th to come around. Resuming life as usual in the meantime. Sleeping the entire day of the 9th so that as soon as the sun is about to set I can stay awake all night, all day, then all night again. I don't want to run any risk of missing him, to execute my plan in the spirit of gaining trust…just because.

I nicely bundle up the trunk and the other items in my hands, and lug them back down the stairs to the library. Setting it down to move some of Heinrichs things, not far, just neater stacks on either side to clear room for the trunk and his mementos. Hoping he might appreciate seeing some things from his childhood again, and see how much his sister cared about him. Even leaving the photo on top for him, before leisurely sitting in my spot in the corner. Counting down the seconds to sunset for the note to rattle through the room.
Working through the night to 12am, my stomach is in knots as it approaches. I haven't eaten anything in hours from anxiety but my stomach is threatening to reject its inner lining, and what little is inside. No longer able to concentrate as the clock hits 11:58pm, slamming the laptop shut to pace the room. Biting at my nails as I try to covertly survey it, my eyes always yoyoing back to the box on the desk.
An old grandfather clock in the other room chiming for midnight, making me jump slightly as the sudden sound. My every nerve is on edge as I wait for anything, just something to happen.
“Might I suggest you take a seat, miss.” a muffled, broken up, echoed voice shocks my ears. Rattling even my teeth, scaring the breath out of me as I twirl around. Trying to find where the voice came from, but I don't see him.
“What the fuck!” I panic. Still turning to try to see any movement in the room, before I see the photo on top of the trunk lift slightly. As if someone is looking at it.
“I pray you not use such irreparable language in my presence. If you don't mind?” the bodiless voice rattles towards me from the desk.
“Oh…” confused, my eyebrows furrowing as I slowly make my way to my side of the desk. Trying to blink my eyes, and focus on anything that might be there. Some sort of shimmer, a distortion, anything that he's there but I see nothing. Just the photo moving on its own. “I-I'm sorry. You scared me.”
“I unfortunately tend to do that to many of the home's inhabitants.” the voice having a soft laugh accompanying the end of its words.
“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m-” cut off as I try to introduce myself, and make up for my actions. Making my way towards my side of the desk.
“I know who you are.” he states. The photo moved to the side to look at the blanket and the watch. “Is this perchance a token of amends?”
“It can be. I want to get to know you.” my fingers clinging to the edge of the desk, fidgeting with the wood.
“Alas, I don't believe I'm the kind of man you came here looking for.” he states. Having to brace myself for his every word, almost like they're pounding from inside my skull.

“I think you are.” I mumble.
“I pray you will be sorely mistaken, madam.” he retorts, sounding like he's growing annoyed. The blanket is put aside, and keeps the pocket watch in hand. Hearing the latch snap, as he readies to open it. Taking a deep breath, before speaking.
“I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, Heinrich. I want to at least be your friend, so I'm not going to stop trying.” My words shaky at first as they come out, but my confidence grows. Correcting my postures as I try to stare as the invisible man only a few feet from me.
“You're rather persistent.” he laughs, filling me with a small sense of pride. “I beg, shall you not repeat the actions of the past? I do not believe I have ever been so flustered.” he states. Taking a second to consider his words before I realize what he means.
“I won't, I swear!” I blurt out, eagerly. My eyes growing wide and hopeful.

“Marvelous, then. I am most humbled by your humility. Henceforth, I look forward to our friendship's growth.” The faintest idea of him, grey and barely visible. Almost an outline. as his right arm moves to gesture towards the seat on my half of the desk. “Please, join me. Keep this weary soul company while he exhumes his more lively times.” a slight smile on his lips as he finishes.
Gnawing at the inside of my mouth, my cheek aching as I fight the large smile that wants to take my lips. The sound of his voice. His polite mannerisms. Containing my excitement as I take my seat, watching as he opens the box as I finish getting comfortable. My mind is running rampant with questions for him.
“Did you like the poetry book I left?” blurting out the first one that can fight its way to my mouth the fastest.

“Why yes! My how the genre has changed.” He states off handed, continuing to fuss with the contents of the box. Sweetly admiring the bear.
“I could get you more, a lot has come out since…uhm… I don't know how to finish this sentence…” trailing off as I grow embarrassed, staring down at the desk as uncertainty and blood takes my face.
“Worry not, I know I am dead. I've grown accustomed to this existence.” he chuckles in reassurance. “There is no need to pretend like I'm not a lost soul. Might I take you up on your offer though, I would be most grateful for your efforts and a chance to expand the library.”
“I'd be more than happy to!” I let out. My head is now flooded with the names of literally any poetry author and title I know or have ever heard in my life. I really want to impress him.

Year 2 Month 1
I bought 3 books. A silly, children's one I read when I was younger that's got some drawing to accompany the rhyming words. A serious, more poignant, book by an up and coming modern female poet. And finally, a book of haikus from a slew of different authors. And for a few hours every night I'd read to him, walk around the library with one of the books in hand. As the note would play, I would read aloud.
It took a while to get through the first two books, before turning to the third. I did some research, haikus were not well known till the late 1900s, so he probably doesn't know what a haiku even is. I'm hoping it will be a fun bonding activity for us. As soon as the note announces the night, I enter the library with the book of haikus. Gingerly placing it on the center of his desk before pressing my hands flat on the surface to lean forward. Staring at the vague place I know he's standing in front of the piano.
“I got this for you as a kind of experiment? These kinds of poems weren't around when you were learning, at least I don't think they were. I thought you would at least appreciate it, and find it interesting so…enjoy.” I sigh, pushing off my palms to skulk upstairs. Sad to not be given a reaction, as the note just rattles on.
Trudging my way back in the doors, half asleep the next morning. Perplexed to see the book in the center of my desk now, a note on top. Clambering to it, slipping as my socks almost make my feet fly out from under me. Stifling my excitement as I grabbed the note, Heinrich scribbled to make a short poem, a haiku. Reading;

Whispers of my heart

Beat for you, in secret pain

Loves silent refrain

-H

Practically grinding my teeth to a pulp as I finish it. Trying not to let my anger get the better of me. I got so excited, and for nothing. Another poem about Clementine. Rolling my eyes as I still pocket it, adding it to the growing collection stowed under my pillow upstairs.

Year 2 Month 2
His reading pace is truly impressive. Like clockwork, twice a week I buy as many poetry and philosophy books as I can hold. Some I read to him at night, other nights I leave him to his own devices. We're starting to form a symbiotic relationship, growing used to each other's presence. The atmosphere is still cold but not terrifying, confirming my theory that this all depends on how much he trusts and likes me.
When the 10th rolled around I chose to let him do as he pleases. Leaving one of the few romantic poetry books I owned.
Waking up the next morning, and going about my everyday routine. Time just dragged by, almost sunset before finally making my way into the library. Dreading what I might find honestly. Finding a parchment with his beautiful writing in my seat, with my worn book. Reading;

In shadows cast by moonlit sighs,

Where time, like whispers, softly dies,

I linger here, my heart a wraith,

Longing for warmth, for loves sweet faith.

With aching need that chains my soul,

A phantom yearning, to be whole,

For though I tread my ghostly gleam,

With her love, I could find my dream.

-H

The note ringing through the house in the middle of reading the poem. Rattling along with the anger filling in my chest as it pounds through my veins. Building and building, brimming with rage by the time I'm done reading. Taking a deep, shaking breath, dropping it to the seat before balling my fists. Fighting my anger.
Stomping out of the library as I contact some professional movers. Finally forcing my decision to be made, I’m scrubbing this fucking house of anything Clementine.

The next day, they arrived right on time. Stripping it of every piano, and any memento of the home that looked more worn than the rest. Anything that he could pick apart, gut, or brood over while longing and yearning for her. All of it taken away, and disposed of. And Heinrich made me regret it as soon as the sun fell behind the tree line. Practically tearing the room apart, locking the door shut from the inside so I couldn't stop or see the carnage he was unleashing. But I heard it.
The air in the houses the coldest it's ever been, needing three blankets just to stop from shivering as he wears himself out downstairs. Trying to sleep as things break, rip, tear, smash, and clammer all night long. Tears filling my eyes as I hide under the blankets, trying to reaffirm to myself that this was the right decision. But when noises that sound similar to wails start emanating through the house, bouncing off the walls, my heart starts to literally rip apart. His anger turned to a depressed cry as he weeps, the house filling with an overwhelming sadness.

If I wasn't already crying, it'd be forcing me to sob with him. Sure this is only a fraction of what he's feeling, as I cry myself to sleep. His cries even invade my dreams, haunting me there too. Tossing and turning all night, dragging myself out of bed as soon as the room starts to grow lighter. The sun rising, and he wails no more. My eyes hurt from the amount I cried last night, the feeling of throbbing behind my eyes and a soreness under them from how many tears I tried to wipe away. Every eye movement is almost painful, every blink a relief.
To my surprise, the library is pristine. As clean as the day I moved in. No evidence of the evisceration he committed against it last night. Dust dreamily drifting through the rising sun's rays, settling on his empty desk. No parchments or papers littering his desk like usual, a blank canvas.
I feel like I may be back at square one.

Year 2 Month 5
It took a couple of months of quietly waiting by his side, and softly reading to him to get any sort of headway again. In the interim I'm trying to track down some of his old writings, buying up as much of it as I can. It's taking longer than I wanted to get here. Instead staying up all night before the 10th, reading a newer addition to his collection aloud to him before the clock strikes midnight.

“Forgive me for my blunt tone, I must inform I'm still rather cross with you at this moment. I have seen how hard you are trying to make up for your discretion, but I do not foresee-” Trying not to jump as his angry voice filters through the air.
Cutting him off. “I know, and I am sorry Heinrich. You can hate me forever for it, please just listen. She's gone, and you're not. At least not yet.” I try, choking down my fear. Announcing my words in the direction I can only guess he's at. The air full of anger, and sadness as I force my next words out towards him. Hoping to convey their urgency and sincerity. “You deserve better than this, what you've subjected yourself to.”
“But it is what I deserve!” He shouts, responding immediately. The entirety of his being visible, bracing myself as I'm taken aback. Shocked at him in front of me, in full color, his hair disheveled. His face red with anger, his eyes brimming with tears as his feelings dictate his ghostly appearance. Using his hands to gesture as he paces, “Always falling short in every facet of my life, never living up to even my own unyielding expectations.”
His pacing paused with his words. Staring down at his hands as they slowly form fists. “I wasn't good enough for her.” dropping his hands to his sides, his shoulders dropping as more tears fall down his cheeks. The adorable freckles drowning in them. My heart sinks at this sad, forlorn man in front of me. Aching to hug him as my actions have spoken louder than words so far.
“Unless I have something here to haunt me, to remind me of my mistakes, of all I could have done differently. To loom forever in my mind.” He releases low, his voice wavering as he finished. Removing his glasses to try to wipe away his tears, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to gather himself. Put himself back together. “Because however else will I learn my lesson.” He finishes, a light laugh accompanying it. The insincere kind, that I don't even think he believes.
My body lunges forward, my need to comfort taking over as I'm willed forward. His crushing words pulled me in and sank deep in my chest. Sticking with me as I wrap my arms around him, unsure of if I can even actually touch him as I do it. Relieved as my body collides with his, feeling no different from a normal person. The unfamiliar scent I inhale every night is embedded deep in the fabrics he's draped in. His body shocked as I suddenly hug him, my arms engulfing him, frozen in place as my hands flatten on his back.

“My word, I pray thee let go!” He lets out, trying to back away from me. But my arms keep him in place, exhaling as I try to deepen the hug.
“I think you have it wrong, Heinrich.” I hum out, his arms slowly falling. His head turned away, feigning disgust.
“What's this-” he manages before I resume.
“ She wasn't good enough for you . I worry no one is, actually.” closing my eyes, and smiling as his arms finally settle around me. Awkwardly accepting the embrace with a huff as I resume, his tensed muscles relaxing. ”You're so passionate, and loving. She had no clue what she gave up for that scumbag.” my upper arms letting go slightly to pull away, enough to flash him a kind smile before starting to let go. My hands and arms move as slowly as possible to avoid the inevitable.
“My lady, that's still my brother you're defamishing with your harsh tongue.” he states, trying to reprimand me. Ignoring the smile that wants to take his lips, and the blush my words caused. The freckles lost in the slightest hue of pink as he fidgets, trying to pull away now. His eyes a gorgeous toffee brown, reminding me of caramel candies, as he avoids my eye line.
“Alright, that's fair, I'm sorry.” I chuckle, completely letting him go. “All I'm saying is I don't think you're still here to learn a lesson, I think you could even be here to try again.” interlacing my fingers behind me as I stare up at him. Hopeful in my words, as his eyes finally meet mine. Scowling as his cheeks get even pinker. Shrugging sweetly with my final sentence “Consider it.”
Heinrich huffs loudly as I step away, resuming some work in the corner as he begrudgingly corrects his clothes, sliding his glasses back onto his face. Clearing his throat for a second, pulling me to watch through my periphery. Watching as he opens his mouth, turning towards me as if to speak for a second before closing it. Doing it one more time, his hand even lifting to gesture before he turns on his heels. Hearing him mumble to himself
“from a woman pursuing me simply because I am spectral instead of living…” Walking away and down the hall, growing invisible the further he gets before he's gone completely.

I'm overjoyed with the kind of progress I just made, and the many questions I just had answered.

Year 2 Month 6
When I read to him, I’m trying to avoid love poetry now. I’m worried it may sink him further into the bought of depression I pushed him into. Instead buying more upbeat, self actualizing, stuff. Things that make you question life, but in a good way. The intent being that it helps him in some way, encouraging him to come out of his shell more. In the meantime another surprise was brewing for him.
The pieces of his I ordered trickled in throughout the days. All coming from different places, it was a miracle I could find any at all. Reading them as soon as they came in, I was shaking with excitement the moment each one arrived. giddy at the sight of them, keeping them neatly together with their long lost siblings awaiting for nightfall on the 9th. Rereading the stack of poems again in the hours leading up to midnight, my own notebook nearby. Jotting down questions, thoughts, opinions, about all that I'd read.
Hoping my interest in his work, and my continued persistence is worth something.
The clock chiming scares me from my diligent reading, I almost didn't notice him appear beside me. Curling in to look over me, and snoop on what I'm writing. He doesn't cast a shadow in the lights, or breath to give him away. The hair on the back of my neck slowly standing on end, triggering my heart beat to speed up. My own breath grows heavy as I dare to crane my neck, knowing what's there but still shocked to see the quiet specter spying on me.
“Some of my earlier works, I see.” He hums out, low. Turning his head slightly to look at my face, eyeing me over his glasses. Gulping down the lump in my throat as he hovers, his face so close to mine. My eyes wide trying to take it all in, fighting the urge to feel his lips on mine. Take advantage of this opportunity. My heart pounding uncontrollably in my chest, nearly breaking my ribs as it beats.
Drinking it in. His soft, tired eyes, his brows lifted slightly in interest. Metal, ovular glasses, low on his nose. His hair in permanent disarray, and the cowlick forever in the back of his hair. My eyes adoringly following his features down to his jaw line, and full lips. Not even realizing I'd been holding my breath since I laid my eyes on him, all the affirmations I wanted to whisper to him ping ponging in my head.
“So handsome.” I mumble, Heinrichs eyebrows furrowing as he stands back up. His shoulders drawn back, as he raises his right hand to awkwardly push up his glasses. His lips forming a slight frown. Taking longer than it should have for me to realize I said that out loud, my hand flying to my mouth. Staring down at the documents in my lap as I reprimanded myself, and readying for what Heinrich will have to say. “Sorry, I didn't actually mean to say that out loud…” I manage out through my hands. My eyes clamped shut as embarrassment floods my cheeks.
“Heavens, you're quite taken with me aren't you…” He exhales out, somewhat in disbelief. Hearing him open his mouth as if to speak again but chooses not to. Instead, gently resting his hand on my shoulder. Gingerly urging me to look up at him, and an attempt to comfort.
My shoulder stiff, trying to breath out all my humiliation as I will my shoulders to drop. Pretending like his hand on me isn't sending jolts of electricity rippling through my nerves. My hands falling to my lap, sitting up straight to look up at him. A sorry look in my eyes. “Say we not discuss this topic now. I see you have questions about my work there in front of you?” he smiles down at me, sympathetically. Kindly offering a compromise for the time being, as his eyes gesture to my papers.
“Yeah, uhm…” Hesitating before I start. Scrambling as he stands impossibly straight, with impeccable posture, patiently waiting. Feeling the weight of his eyes on me at all times, his lingering presence as I try to gather my thoughts. A radius of the scent I’d grown accustomed to around him. Thumbing through the stack before my slew of questions start flooding out. Heinrich seeming impressed with some of my questions, filling me with immense pride, as I worked down my list. Heinrich pacing the room for the longer winded ones.

One question even earned me a laugh. Not a chuckle, but a real full laugh. It made my eyes flutter, it was so refreshing. Heinrich is capable of rambling adorably on and on about every little topic he brushes past. Gesturing lively with his hands and arms, so overcome with his emotions and thoughts his whole being helps convey his points. Even starting to look over my shoulder, trying to hide my blush as he references certain points,
getting more and more excited. Eagerly answering all my questions and appreciating my interest in his writing till we reached the end. The widest smile I'd seen on him yet.
“As…for earlier.” His smile drops, pulling his glasses off to clean them on his vest as he wanders back my way. Stammering with some words before finding the ones he wants to say, before pushing his strong nose. “Your kindness to me has exceeded all expectations, I am most humbled by it. And this …I wanted to convey that I’d thought on your words often since last we spoke.” He states, clumsily returning his glasses to his face as he struggles with what to do with his hands. Awkwardly standing by, as I start to organize the things in my lap. Suppressing my growing joy.

“Never did I imagine that someone could be so bewitched by me. And though I'm not versed in the etiquette of modern courtship, I'd be remiss to say you're quite beautiful yourself.” He lets out, his tone wavering as he struggles to finish it. A grin on my lips at his compliment.
“Why thank you, Heinrich.”
Placing my things on the table next to me before pushing off the arm rests. Standing up, before eyeing him down. Enjoying how things are playing out in my favor. “You're not so bad to look at yourself.” I tease, making him fight a smile as he rolls his eyes.
“I have even grown to enjoy our interactions, and conversations at least. My, and your readings. Might I suggest, if you wish to resume your pursuit,
I beg you have patience with me. As I am fervently surprised by your adamant affections they're not found to be entirely…unwelcome.” a blush on his cheeks and ears as he finishes his confession. His face is timid, seeing right through his emotions as he tries to look out the window, and cross his arms. Showing off his slender, ink stained hands, and strong, veiny arms, from a lifetime of lifting and holding stacks of books.
“Really!?” I let out, absolutely delighted by this turn of events.
“Truly.” He responds, nodding his head softly as he gestures towards me. His hair falling to the rim of his glasses, nearly falling in his eyes with the movement “We've grown to know each other well over the past months, you have my best intentions at heart. I admire your resilience and confidence in-” I cut him off, overjoyed as soon as he said yes. Immediately closing the gap between us, Heinrich almost shocked at the sight of me abruptly in front of him.

“So could I touch you again? Maybe say, like this?” Lifting my arm slowly, my forearm resting on his chest as my hand shakily rests on his cheek. Finally thumbing the soft freckles that litter his cheeks, my heart starting to pick up. His spectral skin electrifies under my fingers, wanting more as I caress. “Is this okay?”
“Well, I suppose it's fine. Though traditionally you're not meant to touch me…well at all...” He answers, looking down at the ground. Still awkwardly gesturing with his hands, and moving his head as he hesitantly speaks. Struggling more and more with every word as I invade his personal space. His hair starting to fall into his eyes as he lightly starts to lean into my loving palm, my heart threatening to leave me in any way it can at this point.
“Can I touch your hair?” His eyes wide at how forward I’m being.
“My word, uhm…I…” He hesitates, his shoulders, and muscles growing tense. “Well, yes I suppose that's fine.” The hand on his cheek moving up to lace through his soft, brown hair. No matter where my fingers travel, or brush it, the cowlick remains there, exhaling a soft laugh at the sight of it. Before pulling my hand back, his head turning slightly as I pull away. Like he's just as drawn to me as I am him. Intentionally brushing his cheek against my wrist and palm, just for a second.
Messing up his glasses, before it drops from reach.

“Oh, I messed up your glasses.” Lifting them again to tenderly straighten the metal on his nose. His face and cheeks grow even redder as we make eye contact for the last time. “Sorry.” I mumble. My arms dropping to my sides for a final time, the foot of space between us tense with uncertainty.
“Thank you.” Heinrich releases, trying to fill the silence. Sometimes finding myself missing the piano note rings, that fills the empty, thick air.
“No! Thank you!” I respond affectionately, turning to gather my things before resuming. “Besides I'm sure you have some things you wanted to do before the night ends, I'll leave you to it.” lifting my shoulders briefly as I speak. A sudden need to leave before I ruin all I just achieved, all the headway I made.
“Yes…I suppose you're right.” He mumbles as I leave his vicinity. Catching him rushing to my side so he can walk with me as I make my way to the door, Heinrich lingering around the desk. “Very well, then I’ll…” He clears his throat, picking up a paper on his desk before his attention returns to me again. “Very well.”
Making my way down the hall before he announces, “Perchance you dream of me…as you sleep tonight.” Gesturing with the paper in his hand, his bashful charming smile virtually sweeping me off my feet even from this far away. Forcing my legs and knees to keep it together, and not give in just yet. To hold it together as he’s eagerly awaiting my reply. Drinking in his smile, and his candid disposition in this time, savor it forever.

“One can hope.” I tease. Trying to seem casual as I finally round the corner, departing to the master bedroom to get the most restless sleep of my life. Replaying every second of it in my mind, and how cute a ghost could be.
I must have really flustered him too because he spilled a new container of ink for his quill last night. Although I only found out because I saw a mass of his writing in the trash, as I was taking out trash for assorted chores around the house. He did a wonderful job cleaning it up, and leaving no evidence of it. But my curiosity got the better of me again, peaking to find a single partially unstained piece. Reading;

Su[illegible],

Forgotten by time, in this special shroud,

I whisper her name now to winds unbowed,

A longing that binds like a chain of regret,

Oh! hear my lament - my soul to forget.

As a man, for her I’d [illegible]

But as a ghost lost to twilight, im yearning [illegible]

Driven to the cusp of madness by this craving,

My hollow, void chest, left aching.

[The rest illegible]

Almost ripping it to shreds in my hands but I resist. Swearing it's about that woman. Instead, take a calming breath, and allowing it to dry before adding it to the collection under my pillow. Hoping that at some point in the future I can be brave enough to ask him about it.

Year 2 Month 8
Still reading to him nearly every night, and buying up every poetry and philosophy book I can find. Even preordering new ones before they come out just in case. Finding more and more poetry starting to cover his desk once more. But only of existence, and a cosmic lesson in fluidity. I'm relieved to say I don't see any addressed to clementine, but I also don't see any about love or maybe even my hands. I'm trying not to let it bother me though, keeping my spirits up as I continue my pursuit. I was encouraged.
We sat silently last month, reading and working next to one another at our desks till I retired for the night. My instincts gave him away, my skin feeling almost as if it’s on fire every time he glanced at me. His longer stares enticing me to look back, but his body and face show no signs of ever leaving the page he’s working on. Confusing me deeply. And the silence, deafening. Every single turn of a page, or scrawl of a pen was like a thunderclap in my ears. Making me jump.

So I bought a record player for the library, and found a handful of old classical records to play for him throughout the days. Hoping to fill some of the heavy silence that shrouds the whole home really, and drown out the feeling of his stare when this is all we have to listen to. Gleefully awaiting his visit this month, having everything set up to ensure it works when the clock chimes. Hoping this will turn into more bonding time.
“I pray you are not here to pet me again, are you?” His voice drowning out the clock as soon as it chimes. Walking in view, growing more visible as he approached me at the couch. lifting his eyebrows as he tries to tease me.
“No, you don't need to worry about that. Although your hair was really nice and soft.” I taunt back, with a sly smirk. Make his own smile take the edges of his lips as he stares down his nose at me. “I'm here to spend time with you, like always. I got some records I thought you might like.” gesturing to the antique phonograph sitting on the table next to me, wiggling my fingers to try to add some pizzazz.
“Records?” He enquires, intrigued by the machinery in his library. Slowly starting a walk around it, looking it up and down.
“They were invented after you died. Things that play music, don’t ask me how it works. It just does. But I found some I think you'll like, and I thought we could listen to it together?” Curling the end with inquiry, hoping to entice him to the idea. watching as he circles the device, seeming pleased with my explanation. Eyeing down at me from behind the couch.

“My…That sounds endearingly pleasant, play away my dear.” Shooting me a smile, as he vaguely gestures to the player. Before turning to fuss with the documents on his desk. Hearing the shuffling of paper as I move, pulling out one of the large, ridged discs. Gingerly placing it, and moving the needle like the old man at the thrift store showed me. Giving it a second, hearing a cluster of noise before a smooth symphony starts to flutter through the air.
Listening to the butterfly-like noise as I cozy into my spot on the couch. Disappointed he’s behind me as I try to read one of my books. Thumbing at the pages, moving my eyes to no avail. The deep need to speak, and fill this returning want despite the music. A want to know him. “Who was your favorite composer anyway?” I ask, still pretending to read the book in my lap.

“Liszt, Beethoven, I suppose. Clementine was always the one with an ear for that sort of thing.” He responds quickly, and off handed. Taking a deep breath as the book slowly starts to close on its own. Hearing the sound of papers shuffling, setting down what he’s working on.
“Oh…” I let out, weakly. The burning sensation, like an immense bonfire burning whichever part of you faces it, as Heinrich starts to look at me. “Well who are your favorite poets? I could try to find you more of their stuff in the future?” Moving my hands, to slide them under my thighs. Bringing up my shoulders as I try to shrug off these feelings.
“That's a difficult question.” He chuckles softly. “Emily Bronte, Phillis Wheatley, Oscar Wilde to name a few. Men and women truly ahead of their times. Great minds, truly remarkable.” He states confidently, as if they were here to hear it themselves.
“I'll keep them in mind.” I mumble, before I jump. Heinrich virtually teleporting right in front of me. He flickers, only for a second, moving somewhere else. Bracing myself on the couch at the jump scare, as he leans forward slightly, outstretching his hand. His other hand cupping his heart as he eyes me over the glasses, my heart speeding up.
Exhaling a laugh, and a pleased smile on his lips as he speaks. “Might I have the honor of a dance, my dear?“ cocking his head slightly to the side. His smile causes my heart to implode, sending blood rushing through my body at alarming rates. Hearing the blood even pumping in my ears, drowning out my thoughts and almost his words.

“I don't know how to dance like you do.“ slowly pulling my hands from their comfortable warm place tucked under my thighs, trying to hide the shake as I stretch to meet his hand. Moving my book to the side as I gulp down the feelings that are building, ravaged with excitement, anxiety, lust, and so much more. Exhilarated at the idea of getting to hold him close, and dance poorly together, or to even have him teach me.
“Worry not, my skills lie in the creative not in rhythm. I know only to sway.” His smile grows as he reassures me. My hand gingerly meeting his, his thumb closing around my fingers to caress my knuckles as I answer.
“Then how can I say no.” putting my weight in his hand as he helps me to my feet. Guiding us to the open place, in front of the immense draped window. The light of the night sky twinkling above us as his other hand gently meets my side, pulling me in to keep barely an inch of space between us. My free hand on his upper arm, the side of my face meeting his chest. Resting it there as we begin to sway to the beautiful melody playing.
“I beg you, forget I brought her up, forgive my blunder. A slip of the tongue, nothing else.” He whispers, mournfully. Squeezing the hand he's holding in an attempt to grab my attention.

”It's fine, Heinrich. Lets just sway, it's behind us.” I reassure, low. Nuzzling my face against the brown fabric of his vest, my thumb rubbing at his upper arm with our rhythm.

“I fear I am not removing the tension of this moment. I prefer to see your smile, it eases the unyielding pain of my day.” He lets out, low, in a hum. Pulling out his words as he confesses them. Letting out a heavy sigh, before resuming at his normal octave. “I pray this may no longer be a true attempt to impress. As I ruined our wonderful moment. Dare I say, if you aren't impressed by the library now, I have very little else to impress you with.“ his face growing timid, a nervous laugh accompanying his words.
“That's not true and you know it, Heinrich. I promise it’s fine, really.” Pulling my face away from his chest for our eyes to meet immediately. His lips quivering as he continues to guide us along to the music. Wanting so dearly to close the gap between our faces, have my lips meet his and shower him in affection.
“You're a beautiful woman. A single hair from your precious head is surely worth so much more than I ever was. You're an magnificent, strong, ethereal being, capable of ushering life into the world. And your smile alone lights up a room, however else am I meant to woo such a creature?” His signature charming smile taking his lips, his hair beginning to fall into his eyes. Weak lines on his face accentuating his emotions, taking my breath away. And my heart partially sinking at his words, but beating twice as fast as it should.
“We have to work on your self worth dude, what can I do to see your smile more then? I could start wearing nothing to bed again.” I tease, partially fighting the smile taking the edges of my lips. Enjoying how flustered he gets, squirming just at the idea. A tint taking his cheeks, as he grows nervous.
“I beg of thee, no. Do not usher out such ideas. I thought we were past these indiscretions, my dear.“
He lets out, trying to make it seem stern and genuine. But it doesn’t, his smile and blush only growing. The hand at my side moving in to cup the small of my back, as he pulls me in. Our bodies flush, as our dance starts to slow.

“We are! I promise. It was my attempt at humor with you.” Replying quickly, lifting the hand on his arm to feign innocence like a criminal before returning it to its spot. Both of us laughing as I resume “And I mean I've wanted to kiss you this whole time but I haven't, that's growth. It's got to be worth something.” Finishing with a cheeky smile, enjoying my teasing.

“I suppose…” he hesitates, our swaying unbearably slow now. “The whole time?” He asks, as our dance comes to an end.

“The whole time.“ I state confidently, locking eyes, and nodding my head as I repeat it for him. Seeming to leave him frozen. The pressure from the hand on my lower back grows, his piercing gaze staring me down. The hand holding mine brings our hands to his chest, cupping the place right above his heart, as he holds it tight. The room starting to grow cold around me the longer we stand still.
Heinrich leaning in slightly, our lips only inches apart. “Pray you, tell me if I craned my neck in to entice you further, put a strain on the impulses that you're valiantly fighting, would you still show restraint?” flashing me a half smile, before I push up onto the balls of my feet. My lips eagerly colliding with his, his body tensing slightly at the sudden action.

Both of us shaking at the kiss, feeling as if
I’m kissing him for years without him kissing me back. Finally starting to pull away, defeated, when his hands grow firm again. His lips desperately kissing me back, his uncertainty starting to wash away as we both give in. My hand on his arm traveling to cup his cheek, and run through his hair. Cocking my head to the side, my tongue delicately lapping out of my mouth to deepen the kiss. His lips parting slightly, welcoming the intrusion as our tongues meet.
Fighting for dominance, as his hand leaves mine on his chest. Wrapping his arms around my sides, pulling me close and tight. His every action is shaky, and unsure. Only making me kiss him harder, drown him in the wanting I’ve been feeling. Moaning at the taste of his saliva on my tongue, his spectral being reacting to my sounds. Exploring each other's mouths as the kiss goes on. His nervous shaking disappearing the longer we kiss, his hands flattened, timidly caressing at my back and sides. Growing confident in his actions.
My arm wrapping around his neck, one of my hands still running through his hair as our exchange grows heavy. The cold in the air around him is only worsening, but the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands on me. I’m burning up inside and out. Lapping into one another’s mouths now. Trying to encourage him, and urge him on the longer we kiss. My lips starting to grow tender and raw as he can’t get enough. Moaning more at his efforts, resigning to his hands.
Snapping whatever final chord he was holding on by. The kiss grows erratic as he starts to guide me backwards. The back of my legs hitting something hard, trusting him as they buckle. Plopping myself down on the couch, Heinrich hastily joining me. Continuing to kiss me as I fall to lay on my back, his fingers gingerly moving with us to pry my knees apart.

Timidly finding his place between them, his body craning in, shaking as he starts to grow nervous once more. Unsure of his actions as he executes them, but it’s so unbelievably charming. His hands, caressing the outside of my thighs, is dizzying making my face flush. My hands at his shoulders, clinging to him as he ravages my lips. Arousal pooling in my core, my body begging to have him closer. The chain of the pocket watch hanging down, grazing against me the closer I get him.
Rolling my hips and arching my back as I moan through his kisses, trying to entice him. Pull him in further. His right hand moving under my arched back, his hand holding the center of my back. The affection of his lips moving to my jaw, then down to litter my neck in his desperate kisses. Feeling his glasses press into my flesh, gently grazing his nose and lips against me, before he speaks into my skin. “I shouldn't encourage such reprobate behaviors, and habits, but I'm fighting my own…” he whispers, choking down the rest of his sentence as his lips tease my skin. My heartbeat thrumming in my pussy, a shudder rushing up my spine at his heavy stare over his glasses.

“I so dearly wish to give into these urges…” he coos, his voice low. Opening his mouth slightly to drag his teeth along my neck before willing himself away. Feeling his hips waver, as I quiver below him. ”You're unbelievably warm, dearest…”
“I think you should give in, Heinrich.” I blurt out, growing breathless. My left hand moving from his shoulders to run through his velvety hair, deepening his kisses. The fingertips on his shoulder digging into the fabric, hoping to get him closer to me. Entice him to do what he wanted.
“You're a tempting woman, you know that my dear?” He chuckles low, his tongue leaving his mouth for a brief lick of my skin. Almost his whole body reacts as his lips resume their hungry kisses at my neck. Finally pulling him in, his hips colliding with mine. Eagerly wrapping my legs around him, as he starts to lap at my skin more. Even more moans begin to leak out of me as he starts to grind, rolling our hips into one another. Giving in together.
Weak sounds leaving him, as he peppers me with kisses when something changes. Heinrich starts to shake again as his eyes fill with gloom. “No…I-I shouldn't…I'm so sorry….” His appearance flickering before disappearing entirely. The record scratching to halt, my legs and arms falling as he’s no longer there to hold them up. Leaving me bewildered, alone, in silence.
Staring out the window as I resign myself to this spot for the night. confused by all that just happened, it was going mostly well. I don’t know what happened. Falling asleep making a long list of what I think I did wrong to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

But when I wake up it’s dark, and I'm curled up in my own bed. A note on my bedside table next to me. Kicking my feet as soon as I see who it’s addressed to. Reading;

Sunshine,

Thy slender fingers, like petals of a rose,

Entwine mine, in an endless, sweet repose,

The gentle touch of thy fingertips, a flame,

That sets my soul aflame, and whispers my name.

I pray thee forgive me. I hope to never do something so unbecoming again.

For I am truly beguiled by thee.

-H

Year 2 Month 9
He's been keeping his distance since then, he seems to think he did something wrong. Even though I was the one who encouraged him. But the most annoying part is that loved ones have been contacting me, trying to get me to ‘ give up on this nonsense’ and how they thought I was over this ‘ childish obsession’ . I just delete them.
This month at work though has been ruthless, unable to read to him as often as I usually do. Still spending every second I can in the library, in my chair or at my side of the desk. Working away into the late hours. Frequently falling asleep with my laptop, and waking up to a blanket thrown over me, household chores done, food even made for me. His attempts at taking care of me.
And receiving one of my favorite letters yet. Reading;

Sunshine,

I dream of Sunday afternoons, in soft linens,

Laughing next to you, or you talk and I listen,

Growing jealous, as sunrays kiss your skin,

Forever tempting me with your delightful sin.

I don't know how to love small, because I love,

I want to drown in someone, like faith from above,

You're my sun, my religion, my flame,

Cursed awake, yet I dream of you all the same.

I miss you

-H

I barely notice the midnight chime tonight, too busy working diligently at my computer. Heinrich slowly appearing more and more over time so eventually I just know he’s there. Working at the desk across from me. Eventually growing uneasy, leaving to read and pace the room behind me. But I know he isn’t reading.
His eyes watching my fingers like a hawk, my hands well aware that they’re being stalked. Slowing their work as his stare unnerves me, unable to not address this any longer. Finally catching his eyes as he tries to look away, making him turn red. Abruptly flickering, and he’s behind me, his torso craning in as he scoops up my hand.
No time to even process his sudden teleportation's, his profile close by as he pulls the back of my hand to his mouth. Closing his eyes as he kisses me affectionately, a shockwave rippling through my body. My breath wavering as he pulls away slightly to look at me. Rubbing with his thumb at the spot he kissed as he speaks. “I worry you aren’t resting enough.” He states, his brows furrowing with concern.

“Might I have the honor of reading for once.” Squeezing my hand lightly, his glasses falling down his nose a little in his excitement. A dreamy smile grows on my lips as he speaks. “Sit with me, you can rest your weary eyes to my voice. I would read all my sisters' brood to sleep with ease, I believe you would find it most enjoyable.“ Finishing with a prideful smile. Exhaling a laugh as I look at him over his glasses.
“I guess, there’s no harm….work can wait!” enticed by the idea of cuddling, if that’s even what this is. Closing the tab before he can whisk me away. Leading us to the couch, his hand still holding mine as he urges me to sit first.
”Sit, dearest.” Softly taking my place, my hand falling from his, and settling in the center before Heinrich settles next to me. Lifting his arm, “Find your comfort in my arms.” finishing with his awkwardly charming smile, pulling me in like he wants.

Scooting just a few inches, our thighs pressed together. His arm wrapping around my shoulders, my head resting on his. My foot even moving on the ground, moving under the couch to wrap around his ankle. Pretending like I'm holding him back, and just desperate for more of his touch.

His voice is so smooth, reminding me of dark chocolate, or flavorful deep teas. He reads so well, knowing the content of every book in the house like the back of his hand. Reading for me for hours I’m sure. But I fell asleep quickly. His loving hold, his gentle scent, his soothing tone. He even reads well with one hand, he can even turn the page. Falling asleep thinking he’s impressively dexterous, trying to repress the wonders I have of what else they could do.
Waking up in my own bed again, taking my time getting out of bed before resigning to complete more work. Traveling downstairs to resume. When my heart drops, the laptop is still open. reprimanding myself for the reckless behavior. Worried what could have been seen as I approach the desk. Seeing what's still open on the screen. It’s in my email, the last one from a friend telling me that I am ‘ acting crazy ’, that people are ‘worried about me’.
displayed as it’s the last one I read. I usually delete them. Praying to any god that will listen that Heinrich didn’t see this, slamming it shut.

Rushing out of the room, in a panic, filling with dread. I don’t blame him if he did look and see. Lord knows I’ve invaded his private things constantly. I’m forced to hope for the best again.

Year 2 Month 10
I never found out exactly what he saw that morning. Work slowed down, so I read to him again. His presence seeming to leave the library every day. The smell, the aura, the feeling of eyes in the room, leaving more and more every day. Hearing the phonograph playing at a low pitch whenever he thinks I'm sleeping.
I've been waiting a few weeks to find out, Heinrich brooding over whatever he saw for a while now. His desk growing empty. The shelves collecting more dust than usual. The curtains, and books, no longer moving from where I placed them. Avoiding his usual haunts, feeling as if the words I read some nights are just lost to space and not enticingly drifting into his ear. It breaks my heart to pieces inside.
Bracing awake in the dead of night. His presence heavy in the room, littered with his scent. My toes and lower extremities practically froze, yet I'm drenched in sweat. My body shaking, and lungs desperate for air as I pull my blankets to cover my chest. My heart pounding, pounding, pounding. I can hear it in my skull. Pushing my back against the headboard as my eyes dart around the room, looking for him.
He was here. He was watching me. I know he was!

Ready to throw the blankets off me and storm through the house, scream till he shows himself. When a paper shifting on the bed as I move the covers catches my attention, my hands frantically flying to the sheet. Squinting my eyes to try to read in the dark of the night, Reading;

Forget if you will,

Our love was a song, now silenced and stilled,

A bittersweet melody, now forever unfulfilled,

I will linger with the other ghosts of your past,

A haunting nostalgia, meant to last.

Farewell, my love, may the road be kind,

May time heal the wounds of our love left behind,

Though you may weep, you will rise above the pain,

And you will learn to love again, though it may take time to gain.

I'm sorry,

H.W.

No fucking way.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Year 2 month 11
His note had gutted me, fighting back tears as anger ripped through me. Frustrated at his unanimous decisions. I know I'm being hypocritical, I scrubbed the house of all things Clementine I could without speaking to him first. But I spent several weeks in denial, sure my unbroken persistence and devotion will speak for themselves. Lure him out of hiding to resume his usual haunts.
Every single night, for hours I pace circles into the wood reading aloud. Deep down I know I was only speaking to myself, no one listening to my readings. My voice echoed in the emptiness of the room. This silence is so much worse than the one filled with tension when he was here. The room is almost completely clear of him now, a hollow husk of the warm embrace it once portrayed.
My heart hurts with every beat, as it starts to bleed into the rest of the house. Spectral mysticism being corrupted by normalcy, the immense charm and pull the home once had leaving as the one feature no other home has started to recede. Heinrich pulling away, disappearing somewhere with the charming, sweet, love that used to fill this home. And for whatever reason it only made me angry. Turning to stomping through the entire house while I read, making as much of a commotion as I can. Disrupt any semblance of peace he might be experiencing in whatever place he's been hiding.

I refuse to just be ignored.

My volume grows as time passes and my body fills with emotion. The longer I read. The longer I go without a response. The more I feel, the more I'm overwhelmed by it. Anger, and sadness, fighting sobs some nights as I continue to try to read to him. Appease him. Entice him. But my heart is growing tired, a lingering thought that grows in my head. Like a small seed, sown weeks ago, only starting to sprout now.

It might be over.

Year 2 Month 12
I refuse to give up. Not accepting that this is over, and that he's gone. That the entire home is a shell of what it used to be. Refusing to let myself cry over this, and keep trying. Strike a deal. Compromise. Just manage to get his attention. Deciding to resort to my old ways, ways I assured him I was done using.

Traipsing around like I did the first few months I lived here. First, wearing any negligees, and teddies I had in my possession. Then any and all lingerie I could find, till I ran out. Then I wore nothing. But unlike last time nothing haunted me, nothing stabs into me like needles penetrating my skin, no gust of wind to unnerve me, no uncanny cold that shook me to my core.
Every step I take, every bend, every movement, filled with hope that he's watching. That he’ll see. But this time I'm millions of times more desperate. Choking down tears and sobs every night I go without his presence, and sleep's ability to elude me grows worse. Frustrated and resentful at his commitment to the bit, and my inability to tempt him. Lure him. Even bargain with him on this. Nothing works.
The seed in my mind continues to grow, taking root.

Year 3 Month 1
Early in the morning, the night of the tenth I'm scared awake for what feels like the millionth time. My body is acting on months of training. Sleep always feels miles away every time I lay my head on my pillow. Too anxious that if I fall asleep, I could miss him. Miss his light, vague presence if he visits me. My mind and heart hopeful it will be like the last night he left me a note. Startle awake to him in the room, maybe even be able to see him.
My desperation and lust getting the better of me. Too depressed to get anywhere, but it doesn't stop me. My mind is running wild with what we could do in here. What he could do in here. In my bed. Closing my eyes after what seemed like an endless staring contest with the ceiling to give the ideas my full attention, and fight any tears that form the longer I think about him.
He could push me down like last time, kissing me with all the love he's been feeling so strongly for decades. Finally give him his outlet. His hands worshipping my sides, and skin, as he strips me of my clothes. His body is shaky and nervous as his lips meet my chest. Kissing his way to my breasts, and taunting my chest as his slender fingers push into me. His shaking slows as I react to him, squirming under him and his touch. Encouraging him.
But my mind races ahead, pushing the fantasy along to the good part. My heart beats in my head and temples as I grow uncomfortable in my bed, arousal coursing through my blood. Lust pooling deep in my core at the idea of him between my thighs, pushing into me. His face hanging over me as he slowly fills me. Overrun with pleasure, and excitement as he slowly fucks into me. His hands hold me close as we kiss, moan, and pant into one another. Trying to suffocate in each other as he moves in and out, before looking into my eyes as we cum together.
Readjusting my legs as the temperature under the covers grows annoyingly warm, wanting to kick them off. Instead, squirming as I press my knees and thigh together, reweaving the fantasy as I drape my arm over my face now. Blocking out the growing sunlight leaking in the room, and hide my shame in case he can see. A want for his lips takes hold. To litter my shoulders with loving kisses as he pushes into me from behind, moaning into a pillow as he grabs at me. Taking more control as he admires my curves, and the bend of my spine. Clinging to the bedding below me as his torso cranes in to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Fucking me as he drowns me in affection. Practically drooling with need as he fucks me over my edge, time and time again.
Now gnawing at the inside of my mouth as these thoughts and feelings continue to flow through me. My thoughts are the only form of indulgence I have left, as my fantasy coincides slightly with my current anguish and frustration. Now catering to the idea of
how he’d react if I was the one who finally had enough. Pushing him down while we kiss, and straddling him. Grinding on him till he's delirious. Begging for more. Clinging and pawing at me as I finally give him what he wants, what he's been fighting. My hands on his firm chest, on the balls of my feet as I guide myself down onto his dick. Make him seethe and struggle under and in me, nearly cumming as soon as he's inside. Entranced by my pussy, and me working above him. Squatting, and moving up and down till he cums.
I'm coaxed to sleep by these thoughts, the last semblance of closeness I have with him. Hoping these thoughts invade my dreams, corrupt from within so I can finally sleep through the night. Dream of him, and everything I hoped we'd have. Even one more night where I can fall asleep in his comforting arms. And I know this would all be solved by just that, him.

Year 3 Month 3
Today marked the 6 month anniversary of a ghost breaking up with me. The seed that had been growing, that I was ignoring, was finally blooming. Forcing me to embrace the truth.
Holing myself away as today approached, visits to the liquor store growing more frequent as I start to dread being home. Hating the ornate, beautiful, loving memory of a man who broke my heart.
Drinking on the massive front porch, the still overgrown front garden hiding me well for my nightly drink. Working up the courage to enter the house time, and time again. The door grew heavier as today approached. My heart sinking, and my eyes fight tears every time I enter. But today was particularly hard.
Crying pretty much as soon as I took my first swig, staring into the garden. At the wilting flowers, and foliage I've started to neglect in my recent low point. Drinking till my vision doubles, the winter air mimicking the feel of Heinrichs presence. The cold makes a chill emanate from my center, the colder I get. Eventually stumbling to the door, tears streaming nonstop from my eyes, as soon as my hand meets the handle. My arm no longer able to function for some reason, my body resisting as I try to enter.
Fighting back sobs, as I use both hands. My body shaking as I put all of me into opening the door, almost losing my balance as I finally will the door open. Stumbling inside, leaning against the other door, as the one I entered through slams shut from its weight. Trying my hardest to calm my body, taking 5 deep breaths, and any anxiety attack techniques I've been taught to try to prevent it. Starting to hyperventilate slightly, my chest is heavy and tight. Desperate sobs and breaths leave me against my will as alcohol does what it does best.

But as I started to droop down the door, my back pressed against the glass. I hear what sounds like a book falling off a shelf. My emotions flipping like a switch, a predator now hunting for its prey. Suddenly upright with ease, my drunken stumble gone, but my eyes won't relent. Tears continue to blur my vision as I rush through the house trying to find where the sound could have come from. Perilously wiping my eyes clear, try to clear my vision to catch even a dust particle shift from his presence.
Growing out of breath as I check each floor and room twice, nothing is out of place. Not a single thing amiss. The whole house is the same as I left it earlier today. My distress returning as my search amounts to nothing, like everything else before. Every desperate, sad attempt to cling to him. Leaning over the banister at the top of the stairs, overlooking the entryway. Watching as my rapid tears fall all the way to the hard wood on the floor below, my heart hurts more with every one I hear splatter.
“Please Heinrich,” I choke out, hanging my head, resting most of my weight on my elbows. “I'm begging you to come back…” I manage through a sob. Indulging in my tears as I try to find my next words.
“I bought this house for you. I came here for you. I'm still here for you, and I'm not leaving.” I confess, pushing down my desperate sobs and breaths. Growing desperate for air as I weep, my whole body emulating the feeling. Overcome by my sadness, and all the tears I'd been repressing and denying for months.
“I can't sleep, I can barely work.” I plead, my fingers interlacing as I try to look up. My teary eyes looking to the massive window above the front door. My face red, sniffling snot away as I muster up courage for what I wanted to say to him. What I should have said a long time ago. “I love you.” I whisper, more tears leaving my eyes as I let out a fake laugh.
“Do you hear me! I love you, you idiot! And you're breaking my heart here.” I tease loudly, insincere laughter managing its way out of me. “And I didn’t say it to hear it back, I said it so you'd know.”
Sniffling before I clear my throat to speak again, blinking out more tears. “I needed you to at least know.” I whisper.
“E-Even if you don't want to be with me too…please I-I miss you….” I manage out as more sounds of woe dictate my being. My hands clinging to one another, “So much Heinrich. I miss reading next to you, and coexisting together. How you organize the books, and how you make the house smell. How kind you are, and how you bring me comfort and warmth. God, and you're so passionate, and whole hearted.” everything pouring out of me at once. Like I'm confessing my sins to God himself, hoping Heinrich will see my vulnerability and sincerity in my words and feelings. See how he's driving me insane, and affecting me without even needing to be here.
“I still buy fruity candles, and make your favorite teas because I know you like the smell…S-Sorry, I'm rambling now…” I resume. Sighing heavily as nothing happens. Pushing off my elbows to rest on the palms of my hands. My shoulders shake as I continue to fight back sobs and cries, still bawling my eyes out as I try to regulate my voice. But the alcohol isn't helping in any way.
“Please come back…” I let out, weakly. My bottom lip shakes as I continue to sniffle. Pushing off the railing as I exclaim. “Please!” hoping to alert him if he, for whatever reason, wasn't already listening, grab his attention and make him listen.
“I'll do anything.” I manage through sobs, pacing the hall upstairs. My arms and hands wiping and pulling at my face as I resist what I say next. My pleas growing desperate. “I'll never step foot in the library again, if you'll come back. I'll never speak to you again. Please, are you at least okay? I mean where are you? I want to know if you're okay.” I blubber out, trying to choke back my whines. Brushing my hair out of my face, and taking a deep breath as I really try to pull myself together.
“You tend to wallow and I don't want you to do that.” sniffling slightly as my voice wavers with my repressed sadness. “Please, I'll give you whatever you want. Even if I don't want to do it, even if it hurts, I'll do it. You just have to ask.” I state, hanging my head in my hands. My woeful cries growing well known, my weeps starting to fill the halls like Heinrichs did almost a year ago. My face, and eyes red and raw, from the nonstop tears.

”Please, Heinrich!” I let out, my voice becoming distressed from the overuse. My whole body shakes as my misery overwhelms my every joint and muscle. Hearing every tear as it hits the worn rug. “Don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to me. Please…” I choke out. My hands coming in to hold at either of my sides, my forearms pressing into my stomach. My upper body caving in as I give into the sobs once more.
“Please… It's been 6 months.” I manage out weakly, my knees and feet losing their function. Wobbling before my knees hit the hardwood with a loud thud, surely bruising my knees. My hair falling into my face as I beg through my bawling. “Please…Heinrich…”

Crying there and chanting desperate pleas for I don’t know how long, till I passed out in a drunken haze. Waking up in the exact same spot on the ground as I fell asleep, my eyes aching as I fought more tears. Filling with excruciating pain that he hadn’t moved me to my bed, finally accepting the truth.
He’s really done with me…

Year 3 Month 6
As soon as I could go a full week without crying. Without staring straight ahead into the void of a quiet room for hours. I decided to push myself, continuing my long awaited descent into madness. Staring at myself in my mirror, my face an attractive dewy glow from the tears I’d shed over the past few months. I'm going hunting to fulfill a need that Heinrich clearly isn’t going to, resigning to the idea that maybe my family and friends were right. I need to come to my senses.
Pouring myself in my favorite outfit, that clings to my skin. Form fitting, with complimentary shoes. Looking in the mirror again, satisfied with my apparal before makeup. Rushing to cram my thing into my smallest bag, as I leave the house by 11pm. Finally agreeing to meet with the work people for bars and drinking like they’d always invited me to.
All the other women dressed even more impressively than me, enjoying my time pestering them with questions and fun conversations. Making appearances before finally splitting away, sure no one ever noticed I left. Instead sitting at the bar to down drink, after drink. Till eventually, like clockwork, a man offered to start buying them for me.

An okay young man named Isaac, who is cute enough with a pleasant half smile. Blonde short hair, brown eyes, lightly tanned skin, and a year younger than me. Eager and confident, giving me his best lines as I feign interest. His hand eventually fell on my knee after a few drinks together, working its way up my thigh slowly. His hand annoyingly warm on my skin as his fingertips press into me.
Part of me feels sick, my stomach turning as they move inward. His pinky ever so slightly under the hem of my skirt. Blaming the feeling on the alcohol as I push through, his face coming in to whisper in my ear. His drunken slur curled his words in an unpleasant way. Using an app to get us a ride home as I let him drunkenly flirt with me.
Grabbing his wrist and whisking him away, as soon as the notification chimes. Realizing just how drunk I am as I struggle to walk straight. Forcing him outside, and dragging him into the car with me. Our ride isn’t long, his fingers inching towards me with every minute we’re inside. Keeping him at bay till we reach my house, giggling with him as we stumble up the front walk. Drunkenly falling through the front door together, laughing absurdly at the effort it took to get it open.
“Yo this place is old…it’s yours?” He mumbles.
“Yep. Mine…” Gulping down the lump forming in my throat, my chest growing tight as I will myself for my next action. My brain and body are not in agreement as I finally move forward. Pushing to the balls of my feet, my hands gently on his arms as my lips meet his. Quickly kissing one another as he’s pressed into the door. My stomach turns again as I pull away, nearly gagging as the kiss ends. “C'mon, bedrooms upstairs.”
”Okay.” He states dreamily, blinking a few times before immediately following me as I start to make my way up the stairs. Clinging to the railing, as he clings to me. Starting to grope at me as we make our way up the stairs, his hands aimlessly grabbing, slowing us significantly. Finally reaching the top, rounding the corner when I catch a light flicker off out of the corner of my eye, furrowing my brows as I hesitate. Isaac colliding with me as he doesn’t realize I'd stopped.
Forcing me to keep going, sweeping a lot of things under the rug because of my drunken state. My arm stretched to guide my stumbling legs down the hall, my hand even missing the doorknob before finally finding it to open the door. But the knob doesn’t turn. My grip tightening and my hand turning but nothing moves. Sighing in disbelief, backing away. “Can you try…I can’t open it for some reason?” I ask, stepping back gesturing as I stare at the ground thinking. Isaac moves quickly to grab at the handle, groaning and struggling slightly before it finally turns. Pushing the door open, as guilt starts to flood my head. Unsure of if this is what I actually want anymore.
“Easyyyy” he slurs, pushing through the door to grab my sides and pull me into him. Our bodies colliding once again, his lips starting to make their way towards mine again, disgust forming with the guilt, when it happens. What I'd been wanting to happen for months, after I’d finally given up.

I just knew my family and friends couldn't be right.

The room is zapped of all heat, our breath visible as every light in the room starts to flicker on and off at different intervals. A sinking feeling, and terror filling our bodies. Rattling us deep in our bones. My arms are working to try to shove him away as soon as I realize what’s happening. Isaac’s eyes drop with fear as the room reacts, his hands letting me go. Turning around in panic, as the lights start to slow. The dread that filled the air thinning, when he finally stopped touching me.
My body reacts differently than Isaac’s. Sobering up immediately. My heart and every muscle want to give out as soon as the room started to chill. Gasping for air as oxygen grows thin. A shudder rippling through my center, down my extremities. The familiar feeling of his eyes staring daggers into me, returning for the first time in ages, my body relieved to feel it again. Butterflies in my stomach, full body tingles, my thoughts fuzzy.
“I’m gonna go to the restroom real quick, sorry.” I blurt out, before rushing to the door. Not even bothering to listen for his response as I don’t really care about it. Practically sprinting to the closest bathroom, and locking the door immediately before whisper yelling. “Heinrich! Heinrich! Show yourself you asshole!”
“I pray you remember what I told you about that kind of language, miss.” His voice hesitantly echoing from a spot that's definitely in the bathroom with me. But I don’t know where, I can’t tell.
“Fuck you man! You broke up with me and now you’re what? Jealous?” I resume yelling at a low octave, gesturing with my hands. Pointing into the air in the direction I think his voice came from, slightly frustrated by how often it happens. Before huffing, my arms dropping to my sides, as I wait for what he has to say. For whatever excuse he has.
”Well…Yes.” he states plainly, confusing me further. Readying a retort when he appears. My body tensing up as soon as he’s in front of me. His face is sad and abashed, as he awkwardly reaches for my right hand. Holding it in his, urging me to listen to him as he speaks. “I-I know I have been selfishly reckless with you, even when I knew I couldn’t have you. Your call to me hurt more and more every time I resisted, I’d have died again if it ended it for you. And for that I’m truly sorry, my dear.” Bringing my hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Closing his eyes briefly as he does so, admiring his nose and long missed features as he moves.
“Alas the things you managed to make me feel…I’m…” his hand tightening lightly around mine as he tries to control himself. “Fiending for you.” he whispers into my hand before allowing it to drop a few inches. Resuming as his other hand comes to adoringly caress from my wrist to my upper arm. ”I want to shower you with my lips. I long to count your every heartbeat rather than simply lust after you. The blessed night you fell asleep in my arms was a dream come true, my dear. The scent of your hair, and your serene face as you slumbered…I've grown to love the one thing I've hated, this suspended state I'm trapped in…because of you.” a gentle smile on his lips. My heart struggling to keep up with his confession. Worried I might not remember this tomorrow, and arousal starting to fill my blood at the confession of his needy, loving thoughts and touches.
His hands moving to turn mine, exposing my palm to him, his fingers gingerly adoring my fingers and folds on my hands. “However I read that missive…I thought about how absurd all of this really was. I didn’t want to be the reason you missed out on life, or a family.” Pausing to sigh before resuming. Intermittently kissing at the skin, and each of my fingers. “I love you. So much it terrifies me. Nothing limiting my enamored mind. Desperate to make you happy in any way. So much so that I thought I could handle you leaving me behind. Being loved by someone else. I truly did…I’m sorry my love. I beg of you not to do this, to never ever touch him or anyone else again.”

Now moving my hand to cup his cheek, nuzzling gently against my palm as I’m still left in awe of his words. My thumb instinctively rubs his speckled cheeks as he resumes. His eyes avoiding me as his fingers weakly held my hand in place, allowing me to easily take my hand back if I wanted to. But I don’t. I never will. “Often, I think back to the first time our eyes met. Your gaze changed everything, a quiet curiosity planted in my chest. Your eyes did not just see me. They unraveled me, thread by thread. Until my truth was revealed.” He finishes with a sigh of relief. His eyes flutter as he starts to put more of his head's weight on my hand. Comforted that I didn’t withdraw, tears beading in the corners of his eyes trying to blink them away to finish his confessional.
“It was only a matter of time till you sunk into my spirit, saturated my long rotten bones. Knowing now this was not by chance. I love so intentionally, I partially believe I willed it this way. Wove the threads to spell your name over time.” The edges of his lips curling at the affection, my heart and soul starting to leave my body at every phase of his love confession. Working up enough courage to finally look me in the eye, his longing stare through his glasses practically stopping my heart as he holds my hand to his cheek. His brows furrowed with apprehension. “Forgive my candor but I pray you feel the same, as I have grown rather fond of you. I’d dare say even that is an understatement. Though I swear to give you a proper declaration, if you perchance decide to reciprocate my affections. I understand if you do not as I-“
My other hand flying to his other cheek, grabbing him to pull his lips to mine. Cutting him off with a desperate kiss, braced in shock before kissing me back. Feeling his cheeks curl into a wide smile through the hasty kiss. On my toes, his head cranes in as we rest our foreheads against one another pausing our kiss. “Yes! Yes. Yes. I love-“ I start to chant, tears forming in my eyes at my glee.

Knock knock

Heinrich disappears in the blink of an eye. Isaac returns to my thoughts, as he rudely brings me
back to my current reality “Are you talking to someone in there?“ he asks from the other side of the door.

“Shit!“ I let out low, worried Heinrich might not come back again. “Yeah, my uhm…roommate was in here taking a shower and I didn’t realize it. Gimme a second and I’ll be out.” Shrugging as I hesitate and panic over my lie. Hoping he’s too drunk to notice.
“Dope! I look forward to it.” He replies, before hearing him shuffle away. Taking a deep breath and checking myself in the mirror, ensuring I don’t do anything embarrassing in case Heinrich’s watching. Finally leaving the bathroom, working up a script of what I want to say to Isaac to convince him to go home without any resistance.
Hesitating before I enter the bedroom again, this time on my own and not because of Heinrichs intervention. Preparing myself for the worst as I open the door, Isaac sitting on my bed waiting for me. The lights, and temperature of the room long returned to normal. Keeping the door open, holding it with my foot as an excuse to keep my distance as I speak.
“Look dude, this has been a lot of fun.” I let out, raising my shoulders and changing my voice to try to sell the lie, now gesturing towards the door I'm holding open. “I'll pay for your ride home, but you gotta go.”
“What the hell! What happened?“ He lets out in disbelief, scrambling off the bed to walk towards me. Stomping his feet as he does so, every one scaring me a bit more than the last as he gets closer.
“I just don't want to anymore, okay? That's kinda how this whole consent thing works.” I reply, holding my ground. A genuine concern for my safety arises in my mind as an angry entitled man towers over me.

“No fucking way, you can’t fucking do that!” He continues to yell.

“You're a full grown man acting like a child. Just go, what's your plan here? Yell at me till I change my mind?” My hands and lower extremities starting to shake in a visceral fear. Knowing I shouldn't provoke him, but he needs a reality check. Anger bubbling up at his aggressive stupidity, when he lunges forward. His hands aggressively grabbing my upper arms, his grip hard enough to bruise.
“Hey! Get your hands off me! I said no you-!” When the power goes out. Blinded briefly, his hands losing their tough grip as a vicious sound takes the room. Wind whipping through and in my ears. The lights flashing on again as he clammers to the ground, limp. Bracing myself, panting as I try to process all that happened in the span of 5 seconds.

My eyes dart around the room, then down to the man unmoving at my feet. My heart pounding out of control behind my ribcage. My hands running through my hair as I stress slightly on what to address first, “Fuck…Heinrich…was that you?” I manage out through breaths. My lungs still desperate for air.
Heinrich walking into visibility, standing next to me staring down at the man with me. His impeccable posture, and the dirty scowl that forms on his face are quite the impressive dichotomy. “Have you ever possessed anyone before?” I ask, my foot rising to lightly tap the man's shoulder. Growing worried as he doesn't react.
“No…” he mumbles, looking slightly guilty.
“Is he going to be okay?” I stress. But Heinrich doesn't respond, I don't think he knows. Abruptly kneeling, my fingers on his neck. Checking his pulse, praying that I don't have to try to hide a dead body, when I feel a heartbeat. slow, but consistent. Standing back up as I respond, letting out a sigh of relief. “He's Fine. Probably asleep.” I state, mostly for myself.
“Yes, grand, wonderful. What an appalling young man!” Heinrich huffs, still taken aback that a person would act like that let alone a man. Surely used to people with more decorum.
“Thank you. I don't know what happened, I thought I could handle it myself, but…thank you.” I mumble, shuffling closer to him looking for a semblance of comfort. My adrenaline still going haywire.
“I wouldn't even expectorate on his grave.” he mumbles, still frowning at the man on the ground. Severely displeased as the room is starting to grow cold now like hundreds of times before, his mood causes spectral effects on the house once more.
“What do we do with him?” I enquire, trying to grab his attention. My hand still drifting towards his, seeing my breath ever so slightly now as I exhale. Shaking slightly as I slowly reach, nervous for some reason as I crave him closer.
“Right, well I may be capable enough to lift your weight but alas he might be more than I can manage. I suppose we can't just leave him here, where do you suggest we put him?” finally looking back up at me with his question, his other hand lifting to lightly push his glasses back up his face. Looking on at me as he waits for my response.
“Really? We can't just have sex with him passed out nearby?” I tease, trying to keep my tone
and face serious as I wait for his response. Fully expecting him to reprimand me, and hear something about his old fashion etiquette. Maybe even a blush.
“Heavens!” He lets out immediately, a pinkish hue taking his cheeks as he grows bashful. His shoulder shifts, leaning back slightly, as he tries to find his words. “You would be dubbed a scoundrel for such an imagination if you were a man. I pray you don't mean that sincerely, my dear?” his eyes wide, and brows furrows. Bewildered by me.
“I like having you around again.” Grinning ear to ear at his reaction, Heinrich playfully rolling his eyes as my fingers finally reach out. Feeling a magnetic pull to him the closer I get, his hand twitching with surprise as I softly make contact. My pinky wrapping around his, before his wrist shakes, moving to interlace all of our fingers
“I...enjoy being around you…as well.” He smiles awkwardly, shuffling his feet. His hand in mine growing tight as his embarrassment gets the better of him. His other hand rises to readjust his glasses again as he clears his throat. His eyes shift between our hands and anything around me, only thinking he's so cute acting this sheepish over our hands after just professing his love for me not 10 minutes ago. “Correct me if I'm wrong, as I am still not well versed in modern courtship, but I believe we aren't doing this in the correct order.“
“You don't know, I say we aren't moving fast enough.” Shrugging offhandedly as I try to use his hand to pull him closer, stepping over the unconscious man. “But that's just me, especially after you just saved me.” I mumble, feigning a pout. My other hand rising to adjust his pocket watch before moving to the collar of his vest, abruptly grabbing a handful of the fabric. Messing up what I just fixed, using it to pull his chest to mine, staring up at him. “I mean, at this point I'd say it's now or never.” a cheeky smile on my lips.
Heinrichs eyes blow wide as his face gets even more red. His posture worsening as he grows nervous. Fighting his bodies want to lean away, give us more space, but my hand resists. “A-Alas, I cannot find fault in your logic once again. I suppose you are right.” His body timidly leaning in, his lips inching closer and closer to mine. His hand left mine for the pair to timidly meet my sides. His voice at a whisper as he resumes, “I beg of you to tell me what to do next, as following one's whims and desires has not been my strong suit.” Our noses graze one another briefly as he brushes even closer. The air almost icy as our lips are only centimeters apart.
“Do what you resisted that night in the library…” I let out with my breath, eagerly anticipating what he could do next. My hand holding his vest, going flat as his hands start to pull me close. His hands flat and firm, wrapping around me as a sly smile grows on his lips.
“That should be easy enough.” he mumbles, before finally closing the gap. His lip pressing into mine, my body immediately melting in his arms as I kiss him back. His hands caressing up my back as he hesitantly tries to deepen the kiss, my lips parting to allow our tongues to meet. Eagerly lapping into my mouth, a desperate exhale leaving me as he explores my mouth.

His right hand moving up to cup my cheek, his lips starting to pull away as he kisses to my chin. My head in his hand, moving me to trail kisses down my jaw to my neck. His hand moving to the back of my neck, his thumb still on my cheek as he kisses my skin so eagerly. Gasping in cold air as he slows, teasing me as his lips lightly brush against me.

“After our…entanglement…the feelings you stirred up deep inside.” He mumbles out before resuming his affections, clinging to him as my eyes flutter. “You've filled me to the brim with such strange desires, and thoughts. Deep wants and needs.” his voice low, his actions growing hungry as his other hand stays firm on the center of my back.His tongue tentatively leaving his mouth. Starting to lap at me with his kisses. Keeping me pressed firmly against him, my warm breath growing more obvious in the air as he speaks.
“A need …For you.” Heinrich whispers, his hands and voice wavering with his words. His lips leaving mine to kiss down my jaw and neck. Closing my eyes as I move my head, encouraging his lips affections of my skin. His body suddenly moving, my feet stumbling under me as he keeps me upright. Backing me towards the bed as he starts to lightly suck at my skin, leaving behind light discolorations. “For your beautiful skin under me…” too delirious to be phased as the back of my legs hit my bed. Buckling to sit as he finishes. “Around me.”
Now towering over me, his glasses glared as he looks down. A shudder running up my spine at him looming over me, arousal coursing through my veins. A timid confidence in him I'd never seen before. The cold air of his aura worsens as I start to back away, Heinrich following in suit. Crawling up the bed after me as he resumes, his voice low, eyes heavy. “I ache for you.” My heart practically leaves its cavity, as he takes my breath away with his irrational confessions.
My upper back finally met the headboard. His smile growing as his hands meet the outsides of my knees, gingerly trailing up my thighs. Finishing his approach, our lips meeting again as he finds his rightful place between my thighs. His fingers grab at the fabric clinging to my sides. Rushing the kiss before pulling away to lift my top over my head. “I ache, so deeply inside for you to be mine, and no one else's. I want to claim you.” He blurts out, his lips at my neck again. Speaking through his kisses. “Engulf you. Devour you.” His tone nearly pleading as he kisses his way down.
“I dare say, I want to devour you like nothing else I've ever craved before.” his voice wavering yet again as his lips start to work their way down to my chest. My chest's rapid rise and fall does not impede him as he starts to lick at my skin. Squirming under him as he only grazes my breasts, his fingers curling under the hem of my skirt as he kisses down my stomach. “To bury myself in you, savor the succulent flavors you produce.”
Heinrich finally backing away enough, my skirt and underwear going with him. Peeling them off me as he kisses down my stomach and hips, clothes lost to the room, his hands back on my upper thighs. Kissing and lapping an erratic trail to my thighs, his gaze now piercing as he stares up at me from between my thighs. His eyes dark, a small smile on his lips as his cheek grazes my thigh, the cold metal of his glasses making me twitch involuntarily. “I yearn to trap you in this house with me and never let you leave, press you up against every surface every single day and night.” His eyes closed with frustration, groaning as his fingertips dig slightly into my skin. Aggressively and endearingly rubbing his cheek against my inner thigh, intentionally this time, taking a deep inhale as he lowers his head.
“However my love,” He sighs, relaxing as he centers himself. His eyes now full of hope as he gawks at me through his now crooked glasses. “I long to love you too. Love you the way you should be, take care of your precious being. Make you happier than anyone before. Keep you in good health, ensure a blissful existence till your inevitable end.” clinging to my legs as he tries to convey his point. “I pray you do not think I have only lust for you. I feel so much more for you, lust is just one of many.”
His lips back to my skin, dragging them along my sensitive flesh, lowering himself down my inner thigh. His eyes darken once again, his hair falling to almost obscure them looking over his glasses at me. “That being said, my dear, I very much wish to sample you.” once again longingly rubbing his cheek against my inner thigh. His hands on the outside are strong and firm, moving me for his every whim. Pressing my thigh in to meet with his kisses, “Might I have the honor of just a taste?” He asks, his voice full of hunger. His face leaving my thigh, hovering right above my pussy. Exhaling a heavy breath as he slightly lifts his eyebrow, holding my stare. “Ease my weary souls' deep seeded desires?”
My own eyes wide, my brows furrowing in admiration. My hands gripping their spot on the bedding, the heat I'm producing now negating the cold he emits. Staring down dreamy eyed as this gorgeous man worshipping my thighs, adorning my legs with infinite kisses. My head moves on its own, a hum leaving me as a response. My body is overrun with excitement, lust, and so much more. “Mmmhm” I manage, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth.
“Thank you! Thank you, my love.” He lets out before his mouth makes contact with my pussy. Licking to find my clit before lapping up all of it, a deep moan escaping me as soon as his tongue makes contact. One of my hands moving to clamp my mouth shut, barely able to keep my eyes open to watch him work. “You're delicious, heavens above.” he whines, his fingers starting to dig into my skin as his mouth presses into me.
Nuzzling his face deep, his hair growing messier as he licks into my pussy. My hand on the sheets letting go, giving into the pull his hair had on me. Eager to see his face, finally running my fingers through his hair. Brushing some of it back, more moans trying to escape through my other hand, as a flush takes my face. His mouth moving back up to tease at my tight cluster of nerves, every lick over it making my thighs involuntarily twitch. His glasses growing foggy from my body heat as he buries his face further into me, his eyes closed as he gets lost in my taste.
My hands wavering in his hair, my fingers tightening around it. Wanting to push him down, my hips resisting their instinct to roll. His speckled notched nose buried in me, gnawing at my inner cheeks at the idea of grinding on it. My thoughts and mind are so murky, I can't think straight. His work paying off as my body fills with pleasure. “I beg you, move your waist. Do as you please with me, my love.”

My body immediately gives into his direction, my thighs closing around him. My hips rolling into him as I hold his hair. Desperate moans leaving both of us in unison, Heinrich regripping my thighs to try to pull them even closer. Bury his face further into my pussy, as his tongue and my hips work together. Wet hungry sounds leaking out of him as he laps me up, my own muffled wet sounds accompanying him.
“You're truly breathtaking my dear,” He moans, his eyes still closed, focusing on his work. Slurping sounds start to ring through the room as my clit roughly rubs against him, so desperately swallowing me up. “I simply can't get enough of you.” He whines, his right hand leaving my thigh to tease at my entrance with his fingers.

His tongue moving to focus on my clit as he effortlessly works a finger inside, my body releasing a weak moan at the filling sensation. Craving more. My hips continue to roll, meeting him in every movement. My lips and cheeks grow raw from how I'm chewing at them, trying and failing to suppress myself and my sounds. Straining so his voice, and hungry sounds are all my ears can hear.
His tongue makes delicate work of massaging my clit, the circles he's making growing tighter and smaller. My grip on his hair tightening, pulling him in to meet my grinding hips, nearly choking for air at the sight of his nose buried in me again. Heinrich too focused on pleasing me to notice anything, nothing I do pulls him from his perilous work. His glasses growing more askew as my thighs twitch and squirm, heat starting to radiate off me. Steam leaking into the air from my body as he coaxes me to my orgasm.
Too enthralled by his face, and how glossy it's getting from my wet, to notice him slip a second finger inside. Heinrichs fingers curled inside, my hips wavering with his actions. Enticing more and more moans to leak out of me, as my body stops being able to function. My muscles and pussy starting to grow tense, staring half lidded at him for his eyes to finally open. The hand on my thigh pushing me into him, as if encouraging me to squish him. His mouth and tongue still lapping at my growing slick.
My hips slowing, my hand releasing my mouth to haphazardly brush more of his hair back. Clinging to it as his tongue licks me closer and closer to the very precipice of my orgasm. My heart beat like a wave rippling through my body, my thighs tightening around him as my eyes clamp shut. Wanting moans drifting out of my mouth as my body resigns to him, my hips finally stopping, weak in the sensations starting to wash through me.
Heinrich releases a light moan as his tongue licks me to the point of no return. Lapping and sucking at my clit as his fingers curl inside me, my orgasm coursing through me like a sickness. Immobilizing my extremities, my entire being tensing and seething below him as euphoria washes over me. My sounds are drowning out his delicious ones as he works me through it, ensuring I feel every second. Every tingle. Every lick, and curl. Starting to strain as he overstimulates me, before he groans trying to finally pull himself away.

Panting as I try to regain my breath, my body slumped on the bed. Finally opening my eyes to see Heinrich wipe his mouth off as he moves to sit up again, now leering down at me. A loving smile stretched on his mouth, practical hearts in his eyes as he exhales. His shoulders dropping with the breath, his hands falling to his lap. Dreamily eyeing me up and down before shakily craning in, resting his forehead on mine, his hands hesitantly digging to the bedding by my sides. Finding his place between my thighs once again, his hips gently pressing into me.
“The sight of you splayed, full of desire, and ready for me. Touching you as freely as I want. It's too much. I'm growing ravenous, I dare say you even have me drooling.” He releases, my breath heavy as his face is so close to mine. My eyelids fluttered at the scent of me on him. Letting out a low laugh as he resumes. “How foolish of me to think I could appease my desires with just a taste.” reprimanding himself, a delighted smile building on my face.
Feeling his hips shake ever so slightly, resisting his urges once again as his hips start to weigh heavily on me. His erection growing obvious even through his layers, my hands working up his arms, clinging to the fabric on his back. Pulling him in even closer, “I want all of you. Need all of you.” He whimpers, finally satiating himself as his hips start to roll.
His pristinely clean pants grinding down onto my bare pussy, a stain immediately forming as it soaks up all of my wet. My body reacts immediately to the friction, welcoming it. Ensuring the moans he’s working out of me go directly into his ear. Feeling him strain above me before managing to speak again. “I beg of you, indulge me a little further. Allow me to give into my cravings, ravage you like I do in all of my fantasies.” He chokes out, fighting back moans as his hips move slowly.

“Yes. Please do.” I plead in his ear. Heinrich abruptly moves, pulling away. My hands moving with his, flying to his belt, button, and zipper. Scrambling together to free the long awaited moment I’d been anticipating for quite literally years now. Finally freeing himself, as he yanks me further down the bed. My head laying on the pillow, his left hand on the back of my knee as the other leg wraps around him.

His right hand on his straining dick, the head meeting my clit. Rubbing against the sensitive spot, as he groans. “I've longed for this very moment for so long.” His hand, and hips wavering before starting to push into me. A deep moan of relief leaving us both, my toes curling as he fills me. “It's already so much better than I imagined, your allure is driving me mad.“ he stammers out, his right hand coming to my cheek as he cranes in again, his glasses charmingly askew in a different way now.

“Is this what you hoped would happen when you brought him home? Drive me mad with jealousy to the point that you get what you want.” He sighs out weakly, his eyes staring into mine. Our noses nearly line up as he waits for my answer.
“No, it wasn't, I swear. It wasn't. I was trying to fill the hole you left, that was all. Nothing else, I didn't even know if I could actually go through with it. I was so shocked when you did the light show. I thought nothing could reach you at this point, I missed you so much.“ I blurt out, all of it coming out in what felt like one breath. Grasping in the freezing air, hardly noticing it anymore, as I bear down around him. My hands pawing at him, my legs even trying to cling as he manages to get harder inside. His stare trying to pierce as deeply as his dick, understand everything in my head and all my words.
“Damn you my dear, coercing me to weakness at your words.” He strains, holding my head in his hand to ensure I never look away. Still holding my knee, pushing it down as his hips start to roll. Grinding deeper inside. “Do you want me to please you? Conquer you? Declare you mine?” He coos, slowly dragging his hips back. A cocky smile on his lips as he thrusts back in a painfully slow pace, my body squirming under him.
“Yes, please. Please!“ I beg, the leg around his waist eagerly trying to pull him in closer. Finish his slow thrust sooner. Heinrich releases a hum of approval as he sharply finishes the thrust. His hips starting to form a consistent pace as we start to pant and moan into one another. The thumb on my cheek occasionally moving to brush at my flushed skin adoringly through his hips movements.
“You look exquisite beneath me, my love.” He states, trying to be as clear as possible with his affectionate words. Only making a shudder run down my spine, leading straight to my pussy. Whining as his hips continue to move, his dick glides with ease. My hands frantically moving from his shoulder to run through his full hair, pulling him in for a voracious kiss. Desperately moaning through the kiss as his hips move.
“I beg of you, tell me you love it, dearest, how I feel inside you.” He stammers out through our kiss, his body and muscles shaky as he hopes for my answer. The kiss growing wet and sloppy through my attempts to breathe.
“I do, I love it, Heinrich. You feel so good, please.” I profess, breathless at our kiss and his perilous efforts. My body barely able to keep air inside, moaning it away as soon as I can gasp it in. Heinrich’s face pulling away to peer down only for a second, his whole body responding instantly.
“The feeling of you is pressing me to dizziness, it's unbearable.” He groans out, straining inside me again. Panting as he struggles to pry his eyes away from my pussy swallowing him whole. “I pray you have mercy on me, there's only so much one man can take.” He pleads. His forehead back at mine as our dreamy, lust filled eyes meet, getting lost in one another. My body not having mercy on him, his desperate pleas enticing me closer to my orgasm, my pussy bearing down again with excitement.
“Look at me, I can feel you getting there. Look at me and only me.” He whines, a heat starting pool in my center and pulsing further and further through my body. His every plunge inside forces more moans out of me, struggling to keep my eyes open for him. My hands and body yearning to have him closer, my toes and legs curling to pull him in as my orgasm starts to reach its peak.
Driving his dick further inside, rolling his hips to try to fill me as much as he can. His deep thrusts forcing my orgasm to rip through me. “I don't want to miss any feature as it washes over you. Look upon me only with this face, my love.” He coos, as I shake beneath him. His dick still hilted inside, his head moving to kiss at my cheek and whisper in my ear. “You're positively gorgeous.“
Heinrich patiently waited for me to come down from my high, panting as my body once again went limp below him. His hands releasing me to allow me to fully relax, nuzzling his face into my neck as he waits. When a thought occurs to me, his dick still just as hard inside me.
My breath steadying enough to speak, “Did you…finish?” I enquire.
He replies off handed from my neck. His glasses awkwardly pressed into my skin. “Alas I do not think I can finish as a specter but that does not affect my intentions and motives so-”

Cutting him off, “We can always keep trying, and find out…” partially sheepish as I come to the end of my thought.
”You do not wish to rest, my love? We've yet to handle the villain still sleeping soundly on your floor.” He chuckles, finally lifting to look at me. His glasses and hair charmingly disheveled after our recent romp. Smiling as he perks up.

“Not if you don't need to. And…” Pausing for a second to think. “That's my answer to both.” Finishing with an assuring nod, my smile growing.
“Very well, have it your way then.” Heinrich feigns annoyance as he finishes pulling away, looming over me as his hips start to roll again. My legs and body tensing at the stimulation, not quite ready for it to start again. Shudders rippling through me as he starts to pull out more with every slow, taunting thrust. Admiring his face as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes hungry as they look me up and down.
“What do you think this looks like if he woke up and saw us? Could he see you? Or just my pussy stretching around nothing, gaping for anyone to see.” I tease, a mischievous grin on my lips.

His eyes immediately meeting mine, “I pray thee, shut up or I will make you.” His whines, his body wavering briefly at my taunts. His head falls forward as he struggles with the ideas I gave him.
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Do you truly wish to find out, do you want me that badly?” he asks, prying my legs from around his waist. His hips slow as he pulls the pair for my ankles to hang over his shoulders, wrapping his forearms around my knees to keep them straight as he pushes back inside with all of his weight. Groaning out a moan before he resumes “Miss my company so much you resort to such juvenile efforts as taunting me? Hoping to push me into even more shameful wants?”
My body seethes below him as he ruts into me, “Just look at you, absolutely exhilarated by a forsaken ghost betwixt her silken thighs. Anything you have to say for yourself?” He teases, pressing me so flat it’s adding pressure inside.
“Not a ghost, you're Heinrich. And yes, I love it. I want more.” I release, growing breathless as he grinds deeper into my pussy. My hands cling to the pillow under my head as his hips roll into me to the point of insanity.
“You want more? You’re insatiable, my love. What am I to do with you?” He coos affectionately. Unable to crane into kiss my lips or neck, he resorts to what’s closest. Dragging his cheek and lips against my shin and calf. One of his arms lets go to pet at me, caressing the skin on my legs as his hips start to pick up their pace.

“Do you want me to press further into you?” His hand leaving its pawing as he leans in, thrusting deeper into me, his hand digging into the bed as he braces himself. “Make you feel every centimeter of me inside you?” Rolling his hips at the end of his thrust to hilt inside. ”Do you want me to fuck you?” His voice low.
“Yes please, I do yes. Heinrich.” I blurt out, feeling my mind start to fog over as his hair starts falling into my face. My pleas resulting in a fast, deep rhythm from his hips.

“Then I'll give you all you want and more, my love.” He mumbles. His deep thrusts forcing loud moans from me, my body immobilized under the weight of him. Barely able to squirm or writhe as he pistons in and out of me. My legs still pressed firm to his chest, unable to move and cling to him despite their aggressive want to. Responding to every single thrust, my pussy throbbing around him as moan after moan pour out of me.
My throat growing dry from my overexertion's, my pussy straining under the pressure. The only things I can move are my arms and hands, frantically grabbing for any closeness as he pumps into me. Heinrich’s own mouth slightly agape, his eyes dark, catching mine over his glasses before flashing me a charming smirk. Fighting my body's reaction to it. My heartbeat starting to thrum in my pussy with every deep thrust, closing my eyes before they roll back into my head from frustration.
”I’m elated you like it, my love, like this.” He releases low. Fighting back his own moans at my reactions. Reading every emotion I’m feeling before I can even communicate it. The room starting to fill with a wet sound, growing worse the deeper he penetrates me. Trying to piercing me to my very center with his pointed thrusts. Rolling his hips at the end of every one, straining and struggling inside me with every squelch.

“So rosy, and soft. I’m drowning in you.” He whines. His dick fucking me to the point of delirium, and his honeyed words go straight to my pussy. Fluttering my heavy eyes as my head starts to grow fuzzy, the cold from the outside starting to finally leak in. The room, and world starting to spin around us.
His hips continuing their unrelenting pace, the air thick with our ravenous wet sounds. Every bit of my body starting to tense, fighting him against my will as my orgasm starts to approach. The cold irradiates up my extremities as ripples of pleasure work their way down, my toes curling behind his head.
“I love you.” He exhales out, barely focusing on him before my eyes clamp shut. My pussy squeezing around him, and shudders rushing through my body. Twitching and shaking as he pumps me through my orgasm, surely gripping holes in the pillowcase. Waves of pleasure wash over me, cascading with every deep, loving thrust.
Heinrich releases my legs as the thrusts start to grow to be too much. Gingerly pulling away, and out of me. Panting, with my eyes still closed, as he moves on the bed. Eventually opening my eyes to him sitting next to me on the bed, arms open for me. Moving immediately to scoot in, resting my head on his chest, as I still try to calm down.
“I'm so happy to see you again. Touch you again. Have you here. I missed you.” I sigh out dreamily, my eyes and body growing heavy from exhaustion.
“As am I, my love.” he hums sweetly. Pressing his lips gently to my head for an affectionate kiss.
“Will you be back tomorrow?”
“Always.” His hand brushing my hair, comforting me to the sleep I’m so willfully fighting. Nuzzling into his chest as he pets me. Falling asleep in his arms, and getting the best rest I’d had in months. Waking up to stretch into the bed, hoping to find him still there but he’s not. Instead my hand finds a note on the pillow he rested his head on last night. Reading;

Sunshine,

In whispers I haunt the night,

A phantom heart, forever in flight,

Seeking you, a love, a guiding a light,

Through labyrinths of time and endless night.

My eyes, like lanterns, aglow with love,

Burn bright with longing, sent from above,

To pierce the veil, and reach my soul,

And in your eyes, my heart was made whole.

In death, I found a love so true,

A flame that flickers, yet forever anew,

For you, my darling, I would wait,

Through centuries of sorrow, and endless fate.

My love, I’ll follow you, through all of time,

Through laughter or tears, appearing from the grime,

A faithful specter, forever by your side,

And in your heart, my love, I’ll hope to forever reside.

In this my final verse, I can whisper it to you low,

My love, my hearts has grown, dreams in tow,

In death I found a love, that will not cease,

A love that haunts and whispers forever “I love you to my peace.”

Yours eternally ,
Heinrich