Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Paulina sighed and unlocked her new, expensive smartphone, tired eyes ignoring the colored effect following her finger stroke. Of course, she hadn’t missed any texts—although silenced, the device hadn’t left her hand—but boredom and habit demanded she check again anyway. Her battery was at 26 percent, and the time was almost 2:45 a.m. Dash was so late. 

“He’d better not have forgotten,” she informed the other pajama-clad teenage girls flocked around her kitchen table. Only Star acknowledged this seventh or eighth announcement, glancing at the unlocked side door and raising an eyebrow pointedly while delicately puffing on her hot coffee.

Ashley leaned across the table clumsily, giggling. “Holy *, Paulina look,” she wheezed, shoving her phone in her friend’s face. 

It was a familiar GIF, a snippet from a video of a recent ghost fight. Someone had zoomed in on Phantom’s blurry, pixelated black-and-white figure and added effects to make it look like he was twerking. Paulina tittered politely, careful of her volume, while Ashley snorted into the table. 

She didn’t spend much time with Star’s loud, energetic friend, but Ashley was alright. She worked her weekends at the expensive makeup store in the mall, so she kept them in the loop about sales and the newest trends. More importantly, she was one of the more devout fans of the Ghost Boy. That had been her ticket into the small, exclusive party. The same reasoning also excused the presence of Brittany, another fellow ghost fan who was currently almost asleep with her head on the table. It was also why they were all still waiting for a certain tardy jock.

“Shh,” Star saved Paulina the trouble of scolding. “We can’t wake up Paulina’s parents.”

“’s not like there’s any boys to kick out yet,” Brittany muttered into her arm.

“Speak of the devil!” Ashley ignored the rebuke, and Paulina cringed internally at her volume. “There’s the man himself!” And sure enough, the light from the street lamps exposed the shadowy figure making his way through the lawn to the side door.

Paulina rose gracefully, moving at a perfect speed between casually unhurried yet punctual, and slid open the glass door silently. “Dash!” She whisper-called. “We’re so glad you could finally make it!”

He stepped in, obviously missing her subtle sarcasm and the hint that he needed to be quiet. He stomped in like an elephant, gazing appreciatively at the scantily clad company. Paulina paused briefly to artfully flick a lock of her hair over her shoulder. Any other night, she might’ve basked in his admiration a little longer, but tonight, she had an agenda! She closed the door behind her late guest, bringing him back to his senses. 

“Uh, hey, man,” Dash grunted, uncharacteristically nervous. “Where—uh, where is he?”

Ashley thumped him on the back in a brotherly way. Out of all the girls, she was closest to his six-foot height, and probably reveling in it. “Hey, we waited for you, bud! Keep it together!”

“This isn’t a sporting event, you know,” Star remarked coolly.

Dash looked down at his monochrome, number one, ghost-embroidered jersey, as if he’d forgotten he was wearing it. Maybe he’d also forgotten about the bright white and electric green stripes of paint on his face. 

“Duh—what’d you expect, for me to meet my hero in my pajamas ?” He retorted, quickly regaining his composure with the assurance that he hadn’t missed the main event. Ashley elbowed him, giggling, and Paulina rolled her eyes.

Paulina led everyone down the stairs to the basement, and Star closed the door behind her stomping, shuffling entourage. She left the overhead light off; a single lamp and many gently flickering candles provided dim, atmospheric light. The cozy, modern furniture and decor had been pushed towards the edges of the room, and in the center, the girls’ sleeping bags were arranged around a central beanbag half-buried in pillows. Resting atop the comfy heap was a large sheet of paper featuring an intricately drawn arcane symbol in sparkly, lime green ink. A ring of glittering powder on the floor surrounded the pillow pile.

Energized by anticipation of what was to come, the girls all assumed their positions the way they had rehearsed earlier that evening, leaving Dash for last. He shed his favorite jacket, balled it up, and tossed it on a chair. 

“Geez, you really went all out,” he commented.

“Pshh, you’re one to speak,” Star joked, adjusting her cute spangled nightshirt before reaching for Paulina and Brittany’ hands.

He didn’t seem to notice, creeping closer to look at the summoning circle. “Is this really gonna work?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Ashley warned him sarcastically, patting the floor between herself and Paulina to hurry him over.

“I need my hands, so hold onto my ankles or something,” Paulina ordered, casually adjusting into a perfect side split. “And everyone should probably close their eyes.” 

She hadn’t read that anywhere, she just wanted to be the first to see him. She took a deep breath, savoring the attention and power she held in the moment and steeling her nerves. After a suitable dramatic pause, she began somberly reciting the Latin words she’d memorized while taking out the kitchen knife she’d set on her pillow. Slowly and carefully, she nicked her finger and held it over the paper. She only gasped a little before finishing the last few words. The tiny, swelling bead of blood was gross, but kinda mesmerizing. She was so brave, so suave, like a heroine in a story—the kind of story she’d never paid any attention to until recently.

Something sparked green when her blood drop landed, the tiny plip audible in the silence. Her phone chimed in her bathrobe pocket, alerting her that it was shutting down from a dead battery, and all the phones in the room abruptly followed suit. The lightbulb in the lamp flickered and buzzed before giving up with a pop . A blast of frigid air swept everyone back, dousing the candles and ruffling perfect hair. Someone squealed at the sudden, complete darkness, and Ashley cursed excitedly. Paulina lost her balance and dropped the knife to better catch herself. Somewhere between the raised voices of her frightened company and the thump of someone running into a wall in the dark, she thought she heard the distinctive crunch of something heavy landing in a beanbag.

“Stop it! Shut up!” She snarled, and the ambient chaos stilled. “Star!”

“Are you okay, Paulina?” Her best friend’s hushed voice asked beside her. A hand tentatively touched her shoulder in the dark, surprisingly warm in the chilly room.

“I’m fine—can you get the light? Brittany,” Paulina continued around the circle.

Brittany whimpered. “I knew we shouldn’t have done this. I’m too young to die or be haunted forever!”

Paulina stuck out her glossy lower lip and scowled in her general direction. Whatever, let them complain—they would follow her, their hostess and queen, whether they wanted to or not. 

“Ashley, you’re there.” The other girl chuckled nervously, subdued for once. “Dash?”

“’m fine,” he grunted, from somewhere on the floor by the staircase.

“The lights won’t work,” Star informed the group, accompanied by the click, click sound of a light switch failing to do its one job.

“Did we miss something? Did you say something wrong?” Ashley whispered loudly. “Maybe we need to finish the summoning?”

Paulina stared futilely into the darkness, irritated and unsettled. “Of course I didn’t! It did something, didn’t it? Maybe it just takes a minute. Ugh, calm down, I’ll figure it out.”

She patted the ground around her, trying to orient herself to the darkness without losing her dignity. It might have been her house, but she didn’t make a habit of wandering around in her unlit basement like an idiot. Shff— there was the crinkle of her sleeping bag’s edge—duh. Her fingers edged around it and beyond, brushing the fuzzy carpet. That must be the grit of the salt circle. She was careful not to displace any, and hoped the rest had been smart enough to follow suit. There was something smooth and hard—the handle of the knife. She carefully slipped it into her bathrobe pocket, both to prevent anyone else from hurting themselves and so it would be available if anything weird jumped out of the solid darkness. Cautiously, she crept further into the darkness, almost as far as her arm could reach, surely almost there, when—her fingertips fumbled into something else. Something limp and clammy… a hand? 

“Yeegh! Who—” She squeaked in surprise, quickly recoiling. No one should have been close enough to touch. 

Something in the beanbag shifted and moaned softly, and Paulina gasped, her hands at her mouth and her eyes wide. There was definitely something there, but this wasn’t right. He was supposed to be sitting there all pretty and magical, not… doing whatever this was. Where was his glow? Why wasn’t he moving or talking? She reached back out, groping blindly for that hand.

“Ghost boy?” 

“Paulina?” Star called nervously from the stairs. “What’s going on?”

“Shh,” Paulina hissed urgently. 

Something was wrong. She could hear her friends’ uneven breathing surrounding her, and her own nervous panting, but she wished it would all shut up so she could just listen for the ghost boy. She worried her plump lower lip between her teeth. She could handle the cinematic, spooky atmosphere, but… if she’d somehow hurt their town hero… what if he hated her? What if she got in trouble with the town… or other ghosts? What if he didn’t recover? That couldn’t happen, could it?

There was the hand. She shifted to pick it up. It was larger than hers, and bare. Chilly. A little rough. The cuticles were in abysmal shape. Shouldn’t it be gloved? And why was it in this position, was he lying on his face?

Was that just her friends, or was something else breathing, slower—almost snoring—right in front of her?

Suddenly, something like lightning flashed right in front of her, dazzling and painful. She cried out and dropped the hand to hide her face. The brightness blazed on mercilessly, a million times worse than looking at her phone in the middle of the night. Wordless objections joined hers as everyone was blinded. Finally, the light faded, leaving spots and stars covering her view.

Paulina blinked rapidly, desperate to clear her vision as butterflies swarmed in her stomach and her heart lodged itself somewhere in her throat. There he was! He was okay, it had worked! His glow only partially illuminated the rest of his surroundings, but his form stood out like a spotlight. He was halfway curled up on his side in that catlike manner somewhere between graceful and humorously awkward. His now-gloved hand was where she had dropped it, and the confirmation that she’d held his hand sent a shivery thrill down her spine.

“Nnnn,” he hummed, in his thrumming, distantly ethereal voice. “Five more minutes.”

Everyone stared. Star and Dash crept slowly back over, their awed faces eerie in the dim, greenish light. Reminded of her audience, Paulina re-situated herself into a prettier sitting position, fixed her hair, and allowed one sleeve of her bathrobe to slip off her shoulder to show her lacy black pajama top. The awkward, reverent silence continued. 

Sure, this was the moment they’d all been hoping and waiting for, but… he’d actually shown up. She’d have to get everyone back on track sooner or later, but while Phantom was so near, so unusually still… she had to take this chance to just look at him! He was so freaking gorgeous. Even while inert, he was in constant motion; his white hair swayed gently as if underwater, and his body blurred and swirled hypnotically, like steam, anywhere her gaze lingered too long. He was backlit by his glow, and the way it shined on his dark suit, it slimmed his already wiry figure. His unnaturally perfect face looked more human than it usually did, with his eyes closed so peacefully. His white eyelashes tickled his cheekbones. His lips were tinted just a little blue. 

Finally, he broke the awestruck silence himself, sitting up with a grunt and rubbing his eyes. Paulina giggled helplessly at how cute that was, and someone else gasped. 

“Ughh. Is there coffee?” He mumbled. 

Oh. Oh! Um. She floundered for a second in dumb panic before her gaze lighted on Star’s unfinished and abandoned coffee mug. In her frantic desire to fulfill his simple request, she nearly spilled it, handing it over. To her surprise and delight, he took it seemingly without thinking, mumbling his thanks and taking a sip. Thankfully, he was no flimsy cartoon ghost, and the liquid didn’t fall through him. 

He promptly spluttered and made a face. “Hey, what did you put in this?”

“Coconut milk and raw honey,” Star defended herself reflexively. “It’s good for your complexion.”

He blinked owlishly. “Star? What are you—Paulina? Dash?” In one fluid motion, he set down the coffee mug and rose, standing weightlessly on top of the beanbag. He spun around, taking in the adoring teens surrounding him. “What—I’m—where…?”

Dash emitted an unmanly, muffled squeak. “Dude, you guys, he remembers me,” he whispered giddily. 

Paulina stood, mind racing. Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have assumed summoning was so intuitive for the participating ghost. She was the hostess with the most-est, she could probably still save this. 

“Ghost boy.” His inhuman eyes beamed down into hers, and she swallowed, drawing on all her performance experience to keep her knees from getting wobbly. Keep it cool. “It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re in my home—you’re always welcome here! I just wanted to see you, I—we all wanted to let you know how much we appreciate you and what you do for us.” 

He narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room again. “You kidnapped me,” he deadpanned. “For a sleepover. Okay… this has to be a dream.”

“He dreams about us,” Star whispered in wonderment. “Ghosts can dream?”

“Awww, I dream about you, too, Casper!” Ashley crowed, previous moxie and volume restored.

“… A really weird dream,” he continued, unimpressed. “Shouldn’t there be nets or chains or something? Wait—never mind—uh, don’t get any ideas. I’ll just… leave now…” 

He floated upwards, legs blending together into a long smoke trail, and arced towards the far wall. He didn’t get very far. It was almost funny—not as abrupt as running into a wall, more like he’d become too weak to move. He stared at the empty air in confusion and tried to push through with his hands, to the same effect. He looked like a mime. It didn’t take him very long to work his way around the invisible, intangible enclosure. 

“...Well, that’s more like it,” he muttered. He threw himself at the border a few more times harmlessly before seeming to remember that he had a captive audience (or was a captive of said audience, as it were). 

“...Uh.” He blushed and smacked his cheeks lightly. “I’ll just wake up now? Please?”

The girls giggled somewhat nervously. “You’re so funny! You’re already awake. I didn’t think ghosts could sleep, anyway,” Paulina mused.

“Well, duh,” he answered. “I mean, ‘rest in peace’? ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’? I wish—I mean, that’d be me, if I had that kind of time. That’d be me right now, if you guys hadn’t—” Comically, he froze mid-rant. His demeanor abruptly changed, searing green eyes snapping from face to face like a searchlight. The temperature in the room dropped further, and Paulina hugged herself for warmth. “Wait. What did you see?”

Everyone started clamoring at once: 

“Nothing!” 

“It was dark, the lights broke,” 

“We didn’t see your pajamas or whatever!” 

“unless those are his PJ’s…” 

“Maybe he sleeps in his underwear?” 

“Or naked!” 

“OMG!” 

“Then there was a flash of really bright light—” 

“I mean, you were just lying there in the dark.”

Paulina had hardly realized she’d spoken until he had honed in on her, floating just across the salt boundary line, inches away. She could have leaned forwards and kissed him. His breath smelled a little like frost and ozone, and honey-coconut coffee. 

“Uh,” she continued lamely. “Like… I knew you were lying there on the beanbag, but no one could see anything until after this really bright flash, and then you just looked normal.” Hopefully, that would calm him down—although, now she couldn’t help but wish that she had seen something. 

He stared at her quizzically for a second, gauging her response. When was he ever this serious—even in ghost fights? Maybe he just wasn’t a (very very early) morning person… or maybe this really mattered to him. But why? Was he afraid of what they would think of him, watching him sleep? Did he care that much about looking strong and heroic? 

“I touched your hand.” She blinked hard, trying to force down the heat in her cheeks. Gosh, why was she even still talking—? “...In the dark. Just to make sure you were alright! It wasn’t… your dead body, was it?” 

He drifted back a pace and broke eye contact, seeming satisfied. “Pfff… yeah, you could say that,” he suggested, altogether too lighthearted for the macabre revelation.

Paulina started to brush her hands off on her bathrobe, then caught herself, drawing her fingers into fists. Okay, touching an actual corpse was a little weird, but he wasn’t just any dead guy. He might be offended, if she acted grossed-out! The beanbag didn’t even look like it had any dirt or worms or anything on it… and wouldn’t they have smelled it or something? 

Maybe he just took better care of himself than that. Of course, that made sense. She would have done the same. Yeah. It was probably fine. 

“Is it a secret? Would we have been cursed if we’d looked at it?” Brittany asked quietly. Only her face was visible as she huddled under her blanket.

“Hey, where did it even go, ” Dash pointed out.

“Uh.” 

The ghost looked between them, obviously uncomfortable. Agh—she wanted to shake them for prying her honored guest about something so clearly sensitive…! Even though they’d saved her the embarrassment of asking, and she was curious, too. His mystery might have been part of his allure, but she really knew almost nothing about him. 

“It, uh… yes? Cursed, yes. It’s like, taboo? Yeah. So don’t, y’know, tell anyone, or ask any other ghosts about it, because you’re really going to upset someone,” he blurted.

Paulina and the others looked at each other, similarly appalled. “We didn’t mean anything by it, sir—!” Brittany squeaked. 

Dash interrupted her to sputter, “Oh, man, I swear we’d never tell—” 

“—And we’re all very sorry, I won’t let anyone else bother you about it,” Paulina finished boldly. 

He still looked uncomfortable, but the tension had drained out of his shoulders, and with it the frigid atmosphere. “Don’t worry about it,” he offered. “Or think about it in general.” His legs reformed to kick at the salt border. “Can I go home now?” 

“Hey, but you just got here!” Dash immediately objected. Paulina waved at him to shush. The boy had no tact whatsoever, and this was a delicate situation. 

“Don’t you think you deserve a little time off?” Paulina purred, forcing a relaxed pose and opening her arms welcomingly. “You work so hard; let us make it up to you a little! We’re all friends here, we just want you to feel comfortable and spend some time with us.” 

He was squatting on the floor, trying and failing to sweep a foggy-looking, insubstantial hand through the perimeter of his enclosure. She could see his intangibility in the way his fingers almost melted, briefly leaving a trail in the air. 

“...Is this salt ?” He muttered incredulously. “What the heck.” 

“Ghost boy,” Paulina wheedled, trying to get his attention. “It’s not going to hurt you.” 

“Phantom,” he corrected, lighting a hand with his signature green magic. It blazed like an alien sun. “And I appreciate the thought, but if being trapped counted as self-care, do you think I’d look like this? Don’t answer that. I’m going.” He aimed his powered finger at the barrier like a gun, and Paulina’s other guests scuttled backwards nervously. 

She tried not to panic. This wasn’t going how she wanted at all! She wasn’t supposed to be the enemy! “We weren’t going to keep you for long,” she tried. “Please?” 

He shot the laser. The energy never reached the salt, slowing drastically as it hit the edge and hovering for an instant before fizzling out. The inverted, pink after-image burned the backs of her eyelids. Phantom made a face. Paulina sighed in relief. 

“Come on, don’t disappoint your biggest fans! Just stay for an hour, and we’ll let you go. I promise we’ll have fun!” 

He summoned two handfuls of the ghostly power this time, seething and crackling. It made her hair stand on end. There was something thrilling about the casual way he held something so radiant and deadly, and the dancing shadows it cast on the far wall. 

“Nope, sorry, can’t, I already had plans. Namely, sleeping like the dead. Let me out, or I’m frying your carpet!” 

Paulina raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “If you’re going to be like that, you can have the carpet. Nobody comes down here anyway,” she bluffed. 

That got his attention. “Seriously? What about your parents? Do they know you have an undead hostage down here that could level your whole house? I’m gonna yell and wake them up,” he threatened. The plasma in his hands unraveled and burned out as he drifted purposefully towards the ceiling. 

That would be bad—her papa was still avidly anti-ghost, especially regarding Phantom. Paulina whipped her phone out of her pocket. It was still shut off, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’ll call the Fentons!” 

His form flickered jarringly, briefly pulsating with light and fizzling like a mint candy in a soda. She shielded her eyes. “What—no—they’re not my—I mean, why would you—ghost hunters? What the heck , Paulina,” he buzzed. “What did I ever do to you? I’m gonna fly right up into space and sulk in my stupid salt tunnel prison for the rest of my afterlife.” 

Dash and Ashley started to object, but Paulina shushed them with a wave. She should have put salt on the floor above, too, but this situation wasn’t a total loss yet. She fingered her lips thoughtfully. “Well,” she coaxed. “I suppose I could let you go right now… if you gave me a kiss.” 

His scattered, roiling dark fog recollected into a solid form so fast, he bumped his head on the ceiling. Her friends snickered and whispered, and someone wolf-whistled, but she only cared about the reaction of the boy hovering above her. Their eyes met for a second before he looked away, rubbing his head where he’d hit it. His cheeks and the tips of his slightly-pointed ears were glowing neon green. “Um. Do you kidnap and blackmail all of your crushes, or just the dead ones? You could get sued for that, probably.” 

Paulina giggled and batted her eyelashes, stepping over the salt gracefully. “You’re a special circumstance. How else was I supposed to get your attention?”

He shrugged, pressed awkwardly against the ceiling. “Uh, I dunno. Try posting something funny on the Inviso-Bill subreddit?” 

Ashley shrieked with glee. Paulina shot her a look. 

“What if I just-” he blew her a kiss, and the cold draft gently tousled her hair. 

Butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she reached up to ‘catch’ it. She bit her lip to keep from squealing at how adorable that was. “That’s pretty cute, but not gonna cut it,” she grinned. She didn’t want to take this too far and really creep him out, though. “Just hang out and have fun with us for one little hour, or come down here and kiss me for real; your choice!” That was fair, right? 

He was squinting at her upheld hand, seeming lost in thought. Maybe she’d get lucky, and he’d change his mind and do both. That was a win-win for everyone, right? She bounced on her toes, awaiting his verdict. 

“Wait,” he muttered. “Hold up. Wait just one sec.” He drifted down slowly, settling on his hands and knees to inspect the salt line closely. He set his cheek on the carpet, peering studiously, and then he blew. The powder scattered with his breath. “Ha, ha! I’ll take door three, please!” 

Paulina stepped forward, as if she could stop him, but he’d already dissolved into fog and slipped through the crack. Brittany ducked and covered her head with a squeak as he drifted past her, reassembling. 

“Well, folks, it’s been a real weird time,” Phantom chirped, sweeping a quick mock bow. “Party safe, have a great evening, and don’t summon any more undead spirits!” And with a wink and a wave of finger guns, he melted through the back wall, leaving the group in complete darkness once again.

Chapter Text

Paulina covered her face, grateful for a moment to salvage her dignity. Heat radiated off her cheeks. Mierda, what had gotten into her? He’d been so close, it had been a dream come true… and now, he probably thought she was desperate and clingy. Pathetic. She slid her hands back to tug on the roots of her hair gently, sneering into the darkness. What else could she have done? It wasn’t her fault that nobody understood ghost etiquette. She had no way of knowing he’d be too tired to listen! Oh, but she’d been so close. 

“Holy *,” Ashley giggled. “That was wild! Paulie, you minx! If that boy was alive, you’d have given him a heart attack on the spot!”

Out of habit, she turned towards her unseen friend and fixed her expression. “You think so?” 

“Forget that,” Dash piped in from across the room. “Did you see when he shot that energy blast? He was all like— fsshh, boom—we could have died, dude! That was totally freakin’ lit!” 

“Do you know what this means?” Brittany breathed. “You must be, like, a medium or something, because it really worked-” 

“—best night of my life, ” Ashley rambled on. 

Their nearly incoherent praise sank into her wounded pride like a balm. If nothing else, it had been a great party trick… and she’d gotten to talk to Phantom. Heck; she’d even gotten that long-distance kiss… she closed her eyes again in the dark, palms to her cheeks, reminiscing. 

A chiming noise and sudden light distracted everyone from reliving the last ten or fifteen minutes. 

“Sorry, just turning my phone back on,” Star explained. 

The rectangle of blue light cast around the room and the squinting, groaning teens, finally finding the matchbox still resting on a table. It didn’t take her long to relight enough candles to see by. Blinking eyes adjusted around the room as others turned their phones back on as well. 

“I just wish we could’ve caught a group pic. I’d’ve paid good money,” Ashley grunted, stomping both feet in some adrenaline, sleep-deprived combination of a happy dance and a tantrum. “*, my little brother would’ve lost his whole mind. He’s never gonna believe this!” 

“Hey… at least we’ll know,” Star offered solemnly. 

The friends glanced from one to another, eyes and cheeks lit from below with the flickering honey-colored candlelight. It was a surreal, meaningful moment, before the girls broke into giggles.

“*, you girls are crazy.” Dash shook his head, shrugging back into his jacket. 

“Oh, it’s all part of our charm,” Paulina crooned, striking a pose. Ashley and Star backed her up like dancers behind a pop star while Brittany tittered off to the side. Dash smirked, playing too cool to laugh. 

“Leaving so soon?” She asked, pouting playfully. 

“You could hang out and get a makeover,” Ashley joked. “You could be rocking the glitzy green guyliner tonight.” 

“Nahh.” He waved both hands in mock surrender, backing towards the stairs. “I know you just can’t get enough of me, girls, but that’s a hard pass. Show’s over; I’m outta here.” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” Star sipped her lukewarm ghost-kissed coffee loudly in the following silence. 

“Yeah, we still have the paper.” 

“Oh, *, you right.” 

A roomful of hopeful, ardent gazes turned the spotlight back on Paulina. She popped her hip and fingered her plump, glossy lower lip in thought. Sure, it’d be worth another pricked fingertip, another magical power outage, even a burn hole in the carpet, to see their amazement again and, of course, the ghost boy. Phantom. But… 

“Not tonight, my loyal cultists,” she shook her head slowly. “The salt won’t keep him, and besides, we want him to like us.” To like her, especially. “Let’s bide our time and think of a better plan to entice him to stay next time.” 

“Aww. Should we clean up our shrine, then?” Ashley nudged the beanbag with a toe. 

“Oh shoot, that’s right.” Dash backpedaled to pick up his offerings from the tote bag leaned against the wall. “Guess I’ll hold onto my stuff for next time.” 

Brittany picked up her bouquet with a sigh. “Seems kinda like sacrilege.” 

The far wall suddenly thumped twice, like a knock at the door. Brittany dropped the flowers with a gasp. 

“What was—?” 

Something in the night bumped again— knock knock . Paulina gripped the kitchen knife in her pocket, and Star stepped close to her. A glowing, white gloved hand popped through the wall with a cheery wave, the wrist tapering to a white and black blur that then formed a lean, black-clad bicep—and then the cloud spread and solidified into Phantom’s upper body, leaning through the wall like he was leaning through a doorway. 

“Hey,” he chirped in his fizzling, godlike voice. “‘Sup. Boo. Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Uh, can I come in?” 

A chorus of squeals confirmed the invitation, and Paulina found herself at the tail end of the stampede. Ashley grabbed Phantom’s hovering hand and shook it between both of hers like an overzealous politician, inadvertently drawing him the rest of the way into the room. Those otherworldly neon green eyes found hers through the waving limbs, and she didn’t swoon, but she did stumble. The tumult of the other adoring fans faded to incoherent background noise. 

“You came back,” Paulina breathed. 

Phantom melted, insubstantial, and rose out of reach, a churning transparent black and white thunderhead drifting by the ceiling. “Yeah, yeah, cool, so. We need to talk, for real,” the cloud spoke with more of a static, echoing reverb than usual. 

Someone swore excitedly under their breath, but otherwise, the room fell quiet. He reformed on the ceiling just out of casual reach, sitting upside-down, leaned casually back on one palm to look and point “up” to them like an inverted stargazer. 

“This,” he said, swinging his arm to indicate the room, “can’t ever happen again.” 

Someone gasped, someone groaned, someone started to argue, and Paulina’s hand flew to daintily cover her mouth to hide her sudden icy, nauseated nerves. 

“Hey, I don’t mean hanging out, alright? Parties are great. I mean, geez, the kidnapping thing is not cool, but if you wanna, like, spread some gossip around town that you’re throwing a shindig? With free food? Or tag me in a post, like normal people and not like psychos, for Pete’s sake. Could be fun. I mean, within reason. I have a life, y’know? A death, I mean. An undeath? I’m not always just gonna—” 

He wiped a hand down his exasperated face. 

“Look, the point is, that, ” he jabbed his index finger at the beanbag still holding the arcane circle drawing, “ cannot happen, ever again. Ever. No magic circles. No salt. I’m dead serious. You get me?” 

Brittany whimpered in terror, nodding. 

Dash tried to agree, “Woah, man, chill out, we won’t…” 

“Hey, we didn’t mean anything by it, I promise,” Paulina pleaded. “We just wanted to meet you!” 

Phantom hopped to his feet in graceful, weightless slow-motion, pacing upside-down on the ceiling. His head was probably chest-height, but no one tried to grab him now, instead stepping back when his path swerved near. Paulina tucked her hands into her sleeves, chilled. 

“I’m not here to hurt anybody. Y’know? Heh—it’s so funny that these things are always happening to me, because I’m a pretty nice guy. Hot take, I know, but I really do want you— humans —to stay alive. For real. I’m doing my best out there, okay? I’m trying. You gotta believe me.” 

He gestured, face earnest, palms open, to his silent audience. 

“But if you’d summoned me in the middle of the fight, and I’d been mid-swing?” 

He pivoted on his foot and crouched into a fighting stance so quick it looked like a glitch, drawing back and then swinging an exaggerated slow-motion punch just past the side of Dash’s head. Dash didn’t flinch, eyes locked on the fist inches from his jaw, paralyzed as if it were a hornet that might sting if he moved.

“...Or worse?” 

Whoosh. Phantom’s outstretched hand erupted into ghostly green energy. Dash’s hair stood up from the static. He swallowed audibly. The candles flickered madly, and the temperature dropped. The ghost stepped back and shook his hand out, and the light dispersed. 

“And, hey,” he went on, “if you think I look bad, you should see the crazy sucker halfway across town, because, sheesh, I could’ve been in the middle of stopping another wack-job nightmare bozo from blasting the whole town to hell. Gee, sorry, mister and missus everyday Amity Park, guess I couldn’t save Li’l Timmy, ‘cause you know I couldn’t miss the par-tayyyy…” 

He fell back on his heel, stuck out his green tongue, and shook double rocker hand signs before breaking into an almost nervous-sounding chuckle, ducking his head and ruffling the back of his hair. The sound echoed throughout the room, partly from his magic aura and partly from everyone else’s anxious giggles. 

“I don’t have beef with you jokers. I don’t have time to have beef with you. I already have way too much beef with your vengeful, restless dead. So let’s make a new deal.” 

He met everyone’s gaze individually and counted off on his fingers: “One: don’t ever summon me again. Or anyone else, for that matter. Seances in Amity Park are such a bad idea. Two: don’t tell anyone that I can be summoned. And I mean, thirdly, don’t even talk about it among yourselves.” He shook his three upraised fingers at them in a more passionate version of the OK sign. “Guys, please. You can’t know when a ghost is watching you. This could actually end me. Pinkie promise. Swear it on my grave.” 

He reached down with both pinkies, dual-wielding bizarre handshakes and receiving murmured vows of secrecy. Paulina barely managed to get the words past her numb lips. He held her pinkie longer, his own gloved finger cool, rubbery, and strangely firm, acid green eyes blazing right down to her soul. 

“This was your idea, huh?” 

She bit her lip and nodded, peering up through her eyelashes—although technically, his eyes were below her, given the height of her basement ceiling. He was just the right angle for a Spider-man kiss. She wanted to touch his hair so bad. 

“You’re gonna have to show me whatever book or Pinterest you found this mumbo-jumbo stuff on, so I can have Tu—uh, my team look into it.” 

“Okay,” she whispered, letting her gaze slide down all the way to her hot pink painted toenails. She squeezed his pinkie with hers, just like his words had squeezed her heart. “Of course. Anything to help you, to keep you safe.” 

He didn’t move for so long, she had to peek. As soon as she did, he turned away, coughing into his fist—but he’d totally been blushing. She squeezed her own hand where he’d held it as he moved away. 

“Cool, cool, cool. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.” He drifted off the ceiling, slowly flipping upright, leaning back with his ankles crossed and his arms folded behind his head, perching across the back of a sofa by the far wall.

“No hard feelings. In fact… if you wanna…” he glanced at his wrist as if it held a watch. “I mean, if there aren’t any attacks or anything going on, I could maybe hang out for a bit. As a thank-you for your guaranteed absolute secrecy that I will totally hold you to. I’m awake now, anyway.”

Chapter Text

The guilty, awe-struck silence didn’t last even one second longer. 

“* yeah!!” Ashley whipped out her phone and snapped a tacky selfie with Phantom flinching in the background. By her fifth rapid-fire camera shot, he managed a cheesy grin and rabbit-ear fingers behind her head. She cackled maniacally, and the other girls cheered, clapped their hands, or hopped in place. 

“Dude, sign my jersey?” Dash whipped a sharpie out of his pocket and stretched the fabric taut off his muscled chest. 

Phantom smirked like he had a prank in mind, but he only wrote “Phantom” in neat cursive. Paulina got the same lettering in her diary and on the palm of her hand, and Star got a slightly sloppier rendition in permanent marker on the side of her sneaker. His penmanship was pretty, and a little old-fashioned, which did kind of fit for a ghost. 

Once everyone had their fill of introductions, excited babbling, signatures, and photos, complete with Danny’s intangible arm through Dash’s head for the lols (major brain freeze, he said, after sneezing a whole bunch) and a group shot Star took of everyone else holding hands and floating, Paulina’s hostess instincts finally kicked back in. 

“Phantom, can I get you anything? Snacks, drinks, blankets?” 

“Oh!” He looked up from where he’d been snickering at Ashley’s terrible blurry camera roll and—darnit, there was that tacky gif again. Crap, his smile was just so cute—so weirdly innocent, given the horrors he must’ve faced… and not to mention his awesome fangs.

“Yeah, actually, a cup of coffee would be great? Thanks. Um, without the suntan lotion, please? I like my coffee as black as my soul.” He patted his head and glanced himself up and down. “So, like, whipped cream on top if you’ve got it.” 

Ashley guffawed and slapped her own thigh. Paulina shot a panicked glance at Star. Years of close history conveyed the whole dilemma without words: these party guests could not be left unsupervised with the hero who’d claimed her heart, never mind that Paulina would rather die than miss this chance to actually connect with him! 

“I gotcha. I needed a fresh cup, anyway.” Star winked at Paulina on her way by and shot her a thumbs-up. I owe you one, Paulina mouthed back. 

While her BFF was upstairs, she took the time to respectfully scatter the rest of the salt circle all over her basement carpet and then show Phantom the blog with the summoning instructions. Lounging this close to him on the beanbag had her fumbling her phone all over the place. His glow made a glare on her phone screen, and he had to lean even closer to see. She tore a blank page out of her diary so he could jot down the entire link in that cute loopy cursive. He stuffed the little rolled-up pink paper down his boot, along with her crumpled-up summoning circle almost as an afterthought. She snapped another selfie, bold enough now to lean in cheek-to-cheek and make a cute kissy face. His skin was cool on her cheek like leaning against a window on a crisp January night, and kind of tingly, like the fizzy electricity skimming the surface of her abuela’s old box TV. The thrill warmed her down to her toes. 

“Thanks for being cool about all this. We’ll lie for you about the photos,” she assured him. “We’ll say you came by some other way.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dash agreed. “Like, a fight broke out or something.” 

Phantom snapped his fingers. “Uhh. Yeah! Gotta make our story match. Um, ghost rats in the basement? I came by to save the day, like usual, and you guys were just… so nice to offer me coffee that I stayed for pics, too—thanks,” he took the steaming mug handed over by Star and sipped it. 

“...How are you doing that?” She asked, cradling her own mug gingerly. 

“Mm? Doing what?” 

“Drinking?” Star raised her eyebrows and took a sip. 

“Oh. I dunno.” He licked a dollop of whipped cream off his lip and peered into his mug with a shrug. “I’m a man of many talents,” he offered, “and drinking problems aren’t one of them?” 

The girls all giggled at that one, settling and lounging back down on their sleeping bags encircled around him again—although Ashley and Brittany had crept over to face him better. 

“Hey, Phantom, now that Star’s back,” Paulina gestured, “would you like to see your gifts?” 

He blinked pointedly over the rim of his mug, batting his shocking white eyelashes at her. “My what?” 

She grinned, rising smoothly and twirling, perfectly curled hair and pink silky bathrobe fluttering, to grab the bag of gifts from where it sat by the wall. 

“Your offerings! We couldn’t have a séance without a sacrifice!” 

“Um, Paulina, if there’s a dead body in your house, I’m gonna call the cops,” he hedged. 

“That’s literally just you,” Ashley jibed, and Phantom almost choked, setting down his mug. 

“Me? Dead?” He faked a gasp and clapped a hand to his chest. “Oh, no, I’m so shocked. Call a medic.” The ghost leaned back onto the pillows, pretending to faint with an arm draped over his eyes. 

“Ha ha! Good one. Here, drama king,” Paulina pulled a neatly wrapped shoebox out from the oversized bag on her shoulder and held it out to him. 

“Oh, shoot.” He sat up again to take it gingerly. “You meant, like, actual, literal presents. What the heck. Wow, uh. Thank you.” 

Aw, his modesty was just… so refreshing, and so totally different from what she’d expected. He was a celebrity, and a fantasy creature, but somehow, he was still more real than most guys she’d met. 

“This one’s from Dash,” she introduced, although he’d already found the football-shaped to-and-from sticker. 

“Yuh!” Dash agreed dumbly, pumping his fist in poorly contained fanboy delight. 

Phantom tore off the shiny black paper and popped the lid, then unfurled the contents with a flick of his wrists. It was a black and white football-style jersey tee. He turned it to look at both sides, showcasing the silver and white number thirteen and the shoulder patches—metallic silver embroidery that pretty accurately reflected the logo on Phantom’s chest. Where the name would’ve been on the back, the shirt instead said “hero”. 

“Okay… that’s pretty neat. Thanks for not calling me Inviso-Bill,” Phantom smirked, shrugging it on over his suit. It was oversized enough that he didn’t have any trouble fitting it over the bulky material, and long enough for him to tuck one side into his belt. It might’ve been dorky on anyone else, but he made it look rakishly charming. 

“Alright,” Star allowed, shooting Dash a teasing glance, “the getup kinda makes sense now.” 

“Yeah, dude! I got your back.” Dash twisted where he sat to showcase his own matching jersey, thumping himself on the back of one shoulder. The text on Dash’s shirt said “sidekick”. 

“It’s a good look on both of you,” Paulina purred. 

“*, sign me up, I want one,” Ashley voiced Paulina’s envy. Maybe she could find a website to customize a crop-top version, or she and Star could get matching cheerleader sets. It was a cute show of support—and if Phantom actually wore it around town, it’d definitely go viral. 

“There’s more.” Dash gestured with his chin. 

“There is?” Phantom overturned the box, and a wad of tissue paper tumbled out, as well as a keychain, a handful of stickers from somebody’s cartoony fanart of the ghost boy, and a felt doll replica. 

“Geez, if I’d known I had this much merch, I’d have asked for royalties,” Phantom joked. “Unless—did you make all this?” 

Dash cleared his throat into a fist, ears pink. “Uh, some of it, yeah. The patches, y’know. I don’t draw.” 

“Heh. Cool. Thanks, man.” Phantom clicked his tongue and pointed a finger-gun, and Dash nodded and slicked his hair back. So very macho, despite the obvious sewing and embroidery hobbies. 

Paulina pulled the next gift out with a flourish and presented the bouquet of flowers, neatly contained with plastic and paper wrap and a shiny black bow. She waited with a coy smile until he took it before admitting: “From Brittany.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” He took an experimental whiff of the cluster of white lilies, roses, and snapdragons. “Gee, I’ve never gotten flowers from a girl before. Doesn’t it usually go the other way around?” 

He grabbed one of the white roses, briefly dematerialized it to pull it from the bunch without damaging the stem, and then he offered it back to Brittany. She squeaked and hid her face, blushing and peeking between her fingers. 

“Um! That’s really nice, I’m a huge fan, but I have a boyfriend!” 

“Ope, sorry. Here,” he handed it to Paulina instead. She gasped daintily and accepted. 

“Wait… don’t you literally also have a boyfriend?” Phantom squinted from Paulina to Dash. 

“Yeah, but like, we're not real serious or anything,” Dash shrugged. 

Paulina waved one hand. “Not really. Definitely not exclusively.” He knows where he stands compared to you, she grinned to herself, stroking the soft rose petals. He’d make the same upgrade. 

“Alright, but then—why did you give me…?” Phantom vaguely gestured from Brittany to the flowers. 

“I… don’t know where you’re buried?” 

“Oh, shoot! These are funeral flowers,” he realized, holding them at arm’s length. “Well… rip to me. Shoulda seen that coming.” 

A few of the girls giggled, but Brittany looked somber. “I never really hear anyone talking about who you were back when you were alive, but… I mean, if no one still remembers, I guess I wanted you to know that… you were still mourned?” 

She curled up behind her knees like she wanted to disappear, but the petite girl’s thoughtful gaze didn’t stray from the flowers in his hand. “Rumor says you must’ve died a hero. I think that’s true no matter what, because your death saved so many lives… and still does. You saved my mom,” she sniffed. “Her car was close to an explosion in an attack, it would’ve gone over the bridge if you hadn’t caught it. I think about how awful my life would be right now without her, and—” 

She choked up and wiped at shining eyes. 

“Maybe somebody’s life was awful because you weren’t in it anymore,” she warbled. “But a lot of people’s lives are much better because of you and everything you do. So… thanks for your sacrifice, I guess.” 

Phantom leaned back and blinked up at the ceiling, searching for words… or maybe trying not to cry. It was impossible to tell if his eyes were moist because the glow was too bright—brighter than a second ago, even, she could’ve sworn—but the reflected green-tinged light on the ceiling, his cheeks, and the edges of his bangs seemed to waver wetly, like the glow from a lava lamp. He took a shuddering breath, then turned to face Brittany. 

“Can I hug you? Platonically,” he asked. 

She nodded and stood, and he embraced her, patting her back gently with his free hand. Quick enough to keep it from getting awkward, he stepped back and stood tall, chest puffed out, hand lingering on her shoulder. 

“That was very kind, for a kidnapper,” he started, brow raised, and she giggled wetly. “Legit the nicest memorial service that any dead guy could hope to actually hear for himself. Thank you, for real. I’m glad your mom is doing okay. Take good care of each other.” 

He clapped her on the shoulder, then stepped back to his beanbag nest, addressing the room at large again. “And, hey, I won’t say no to free stuff, but don’t worry about who I was or where… I died.” He blinked and sat back down, fistful of flowers momentarily lowered, expression distant. “If you wanna do something nice for me, give some flowers to someone living. While you still can. Your mom, or your boyfriend, whatever. Tell ‘em you love ‘em.” Half his smile returned. “Yeah… pass it on, y’know? Let my death make someone else’s life better. I like that.” 

The group nodded, deep in thought, or at least respectfully pretending to be. Phantom started to set the flowers to one side, but Paulina caught him and held out a vase. It had been a nuisance of a gift to help Brittany unwrap, find a big enough vase to keep them fresh, and then re-wrap before the ritual, and here she was unwrapping it again , but it had been completely worth it to see the hero so moved… and to get a rose, of course.

Once the flowers were arranged well enough, she turned to deliver the next gift. “Ashley’s,” she warned. 

“Nooo, Pauli!” Ashley balled up, tipped sideways, and rolled on the floor, hiding her face. “You can’t! You can’t just follow up all that real talk with meee.” 

He gripped the Halloweeny gift bag warily. A dozen or more scrolls stuck out the top—rolled up printer paper, taped shut. He pried one open and stared. The guests leaned closer curiously. Paulina set her forehead lightly to her fingers and shook her head, and Ashley groaned into the carpet. It was literally a print-out of a meme: a blown-up, gritty picture of Phantom (labeled “an entire day”) getting body-slammed into the side of a building by the hazy green blob of a bigger ghost (labeled “my ADHD”). 

“Heh.” Phantom nodded sagely. “Mood. That’s totally me.” 

Most of the memes were familiar. He took the time to study each one, huffing or snickering at a few of them, rolling his eyes at others. One of them, he vaporized in his hand with a ghostly green flame before letting anyone else see, and another, he affectionately folded and stuffed down his boot. The rest of the party laughed, quoted, and groaned along at all the right moments. 

“You guys are absolutely killing me,” he declared at length, slapping down the last page, “and also your printer ink. Dang.” He raised his coffee mug to Ashley, then downed whatever was left of it. She paddled her feet from where she lay, face half-smothered in her pillow. 

“Making people’s lives better through your undeath, am I right?” Paulina smirked and flashed an OK sign at the scattered papers, wincing at herself internally. Phantom responded with double OK signs and a dab, which instantly destroyed everyone. 

“Ancient!” Ashley booed from the floor. “Elderly. Old man. Utterly irrelevant. I’m gonna drive myself home right this second and bleach my eyes.” 

“Wrong, dead memes are cultural norms for ghosts, get woke,” he teased back, gathering up a handful of the papers and tossing them at her. Dash and Paulina helped bury her, even as she shrieked with glee and rolled away. 

“Ashley, this isn’t even the worst you’ve got, is it?” Paulina goaded as the girl sat back up and fixed her wayward hair and rumpled pajamas, flushed, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“Oh no,” Phantom shook the gift bag, too heavy to be empty. “I can’t look. Star, I nominate you security detail. Shield my poor, innocent soul from the horrors of this mortal realm.” 

He held out the bag. She laughed and shook her head, hands raised. “Sorry, can’t. Goes against my, um, culture. I’m vegetarian. I’m literally allergic,” she joked. 

“Holy crap, if there’s a dead cat in this bag,” he threatened. 

“No, no, no,” Ashley guffawed. “Just, like, my grandpa’s ashes. The skull of my goldfish.” 

Phantom wagged a finger at her, then handed the bag to Paulina. “I nominate you the poison tester because this is all indirectly your fault.” 

She clasped her hands and batted her eyelashes. “Aw, for me? How sweet!” 

He wagged his finger at Paulina, too, as she fished in the bag for the least cursed gift. Oh, Ashley, why? 

“I think these glow in the dark.” She handed over a pair of cartoony ghost-print socks. 

He pursed his lips and nodded. “Alright, that’s new, that’s funky fresh, I’ll allow it.” 

Paulina clicked her tongue and grimaced, then handed over the next item: a tacky, sparkly, LED light-up tie. 

“Perfect.” He slipped it over his head immediately, not even taking off the tag, fishing for the button to turn it on. 

“Classy,” Star offered with a thumbs-up. 

“Let’s get this party started, ” Dash agreed. 

“To complete the look,” Paulina offered, handing over the rhinestone-studded, neon green shutter sunglasses. 

“Oh * yeah.” He popped those on, too, with double finger guns and a blinding smile, then slid them down the end of his nose to peek over with an eyebrow bob. “Heyyy, girls.” 

“Watch out ladies, my guy Phantom here, he’s got the mad rizz,” Dash winked, elbowing Paulina. 

Phantom shimmied in place and snapped his fingers with an echoing giggle. 

Paulina whooped and tossed the last gift from the bag, and it landed in a little heap of fabric at his feet. He picked it up between his fingers like he expected something to jump out of it. Worse… it was underwear. The click—click—click of Ashley’s phone camera was the icing on the cake. 

“You’re joking. Socks and underwear?” He held up the ghost-print boxers. “Must be Christmas early this year.” 

“Try them on!” Ashley jeered. 

“Geez, who do you take me for… Superman?” Phantom ribbed her back. “I know where underwear go: under .” He tossed them at her, and she squealed. 

“Oh, thanks, babe, but I really can’t,” she mocked, flicking them back. “I’m a nun actually.” 

“Yeah, right.” He wagged a finger at her again. “You’re trouble.” 

“Aw, thanks, I try.” She fanned herself. “Also you’re welcome. Got you a gift for the lols because I didn’t think you’d show. You didn’t save my mom or anything, I just think you’re neat.” 

“Thank,” he said dryly. 

“*, just one? No ‘s’? Ingrate.” She shook her finger back at him. 

“Sthank,” he said even more dryly. 

She laughed herself into snorting, and that got everyone going. 

Star perked up from where she’d fallen against Paulina’s shoulder, giggling. “Oh, I’m next!” 

“For the underwear?” Phantom held them up menacingly. 

She ducked under her hands with an airy shriek. “No, my gift!” 

“Really? Sweet.” He slipped the sunglasses up on top of his head, burying the gaudy bling in his softly waving hair to look eagerly at Paulina. 

This bag wasn’t a flimsy paper gift bag—it was a heavy-duty, hunter green over-the-shoulder bag with lots of buckles and straps. He looked it over, fascinated, then unzipped it to peer in. 

“Holy smokes. That’s a lot of stuff.” 

“It’s a survival kit,” Star shrugged. “You don’t have to look through it all now unless you want to, but it’s got pretty much everything you’d expect—camping knife, matches, compass, first aid kit, fire starters… and there’s a swiss army knife in that pocket, I added that.” 

He pulled it out and flicked it open to a pair of miniature pliers. “Dang, Star. This is… really, really cool. Thank you. Respect.” 

He offered her a fist-bump, which she accepted. 

“Wait, but, like, Star. You gave a dead guy… a survival kit? No offense, bro,” Dash pointed out. 

“He’s out there saving lives,” she argued. “If he can’t use what’s in there, he’s bound to run into someone who can.” 

“Humans staying alive is great. That’s my favorite,” Phantom nodded. “It’s so much, and it’s honest work.” 

“Yeah, alright. That’s legit. And pretty frickin’ awesome. I want one. Star, you’re invited to my next birthday party,” Dash announced. 

“Cute, but I’m always invited. Pauli’s not going without me. And I’m not spending that much money on you.” 

“Aww.” Dash pouted. “Yeah, well—hey, you can come, too, if you wanna,” he gestured at Phantom with his head. 

“Thanks, but I doubt I’ll make it,” Phantom shrugged. 

“What if I told you there’s gonna be booze?” 

“Good citizen,” Phantom looked down his nose with a lifted eyebrow, “you’re underage. And so am I.” 

“Oh, yeah. What if I told you there’s really good coffee? Top tier whipped cream. Maybe even hot fudge and sprinkles.” 

“Bro I’ll come!” Ashley interrupted. “I’ll bring a bucketful of sports memes. We can do each other’s nails and watch sports. Go Packers.”

“No. Girls bad. Nails bad. Packers bad,” Dash grunted, shoving her over playfully. She toppled slowly, snickering. 

“Amen,” Phantom agreed. “I mean, girls for the win, obviously, but Packers? Bad.” 

Ashley and Dash both sat up ramrod straight immediately. 

“We’re enemies now. Pistols at dawn,” Ashley warned. 

“No, no, let him speak. Who’s your team?” Dash asked.

“Baltimore Ravens?” 

“Mm. Nah. You’re on thin ice, buddy, the Steelers are gonna take it. But I’ll root for the Ravens for a close second, just for you.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

Paulina cleared her throat, even as she mentally swapped her team loyalty out. Phantom likes football? “You can totally join us for the Superbowl party this year. We’ll have all the coffee and snacks, and my parents never have to know.” She gestured at the eighty-inch flat screen on the wall. 

“Doubtful,” he repeated, “but thanks anyway. I mean, we’ll see. Free food is free food.” 

“Did you want anything?” She offered again, gesturing over her shoulder at the stairs. “There’s charcuterie in the fridge. I think we still have some Klondike bars in the freezer.” 

“The souls of the innocent,” he rumbled, narrowing his eyes to feral glowing slits and licking his lips with an impish grin. Kinda hot, not gonna lie. 

“Cannibalism,” Brittany gasped. 

“Valid,” said Star. 

“Some vegetarian you are,” Dash taunted her across Paulina. 

“I mean, you can have my soul if you want it?” Paulina spread her arms invitingly, leaning her head back to expose her neck like a snack in a steamy vampire movie. “Probably tastes like bubblegum.” 

“Pauli, no!!” Ashley shrieked. 

“Ma’am, please, you need that,” Phantom waved his hands at her. “Humans are friends, not food.” 

“Well, we do also have, like, brie and crackers, too. And mini herb sausages.” 

“No thanks, I’m good. I’m curious what else you’ve got in the bag, though.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

Paulina looked back into the tote on her shoulder, as if she’d forgotten about the grand finale. She glanced up from the corner of her eye at him coyly. “Not a whole lot, just a few tokens of my personal gratitude.” She passed him a black-and-white striped gift box tied shut with pink and green ribbons, and a small, colorful, Día de los Muertos patterned gift bag. 

“Cute,” he noted. “Where do I start?” 

She shrugged, so he got to work on the ribbons, then pulled out the contents of the box with a flourish: a hoodie. It was black with white sleeves and drawstrings, fleece-lined, butter-soft and very warm. It was brand name, brand new, still had the tags and a gift receipt in the pocket, but, of course, she’d tried it on. It was perfectly oversized on her, like a boyfriend hoodie should be. Actually, it became apparent as he shrugged it on over his suit and jersey that it was a little too big for him, too, which came as a surprise. He really did look taller on TV. Probably because he was always flying. It was perfect anyway, of course; he made it perfect. 

“Whoa, this is really nice.” He rubbed the fuzzy lining of the hood against his cheek like a cat. “Thanks, Paulina.” 

A high-pitched giggle escaped her, and she tapped a finger to the corner of her smiling lips. “Looks great on you, Phantom. I hope it’s warm enough. I thought it might be cold sometimes, soaring over the clouds.” 

“Oh… that’s thoughtful, but, you’ve gotta know…” he struck an emo pose, touching the fingertips of one glove to his furrowed forehead. He fluttered his other hand in an arc, summoning a spray of sparkling snowflakes . “ The cold never bothered me anyway ,” he sang. The buzzing quality of his ghostly voice was like a better version of autotune. 

Paulina caught a snowflake, among ooh’s and ah’s. 

“You can make snow? That’s so cool,” Brittany said. 

“Yeah, kinda.” His pupils flashed icy blue amid the sea of green like a cat’s eyes in headlights, and the snowflakes disappeared with a matching blue twinkle. “Also I’m a liar, I do get cold. Coffee and hoodies are great.” 

“You have such a nice singing voice,” Paulina complemented, closing her fingers over the cold, tingling spot on her palm where the snowflake had disappeared.

“Oh, stawp,” he blushed, cupping his cheeks. 

“No, I’m serious, you should do it more often! You could make covers on TikTok or even Spotify, people would go nuts,” she suggested. “ Dios, you’d sound so good doing something with a little metal or rock. Or a ballad! I’d pay to hear you sing some Starset. Or Dumpty Humpty, maybe Panic at the Disco.” 

“ This is Gospel, for the fallen ones,” he sang, holding the sunglasses briefly back over the bridge of his nose and floating over the bed of pillows. “ I don’t think I have that kind of vocal range. ” 

She clapped her hands anyway, and he took a sweeping bow before settling back down. He reached for the last gift bag. 

“You might want to check your pockets first,” she hinted. 

He pulled three individual lip balms out of one pocket: lavender-vanilla, key lime, and medicated peppermint, colorless, all very deliberately selected. In the other pocket, he found a winter mint-cocoa butter hand lotion and the gift receipts.

“Makeup?” He asked, skeptical. What a boy. 

“Moisture,” she corrected. “Skin care for flying fast in the harsh winds.” She rubbed her hands together, comparing her own baby-soft, perfectly maintained skin to the dry calluses on his neglected knuckles, the texture cemented in her core memories from when she’d touched him in the dark. 

“Okay, fair.” He popped the purple tube open and sniffed it experimentally, then shrugged. “Smells good. Might eat it later.” 

“Please don’t,” she laughed. 

He fished in the bag next, pulling out a Citron green Stanley cup. He looked it over quizzically. 

“Oh, that’s really cute,” Star noted. She’d been part of the decision making process on what color to pick, but hadn’t seen the final selection. 

“What is the deal with chicks and these things?” Dash grumbled. 

“They keep your coffee really hot and your water really cold,” Star defended. “They’re totally practical.”

“They’re trendy as *,” Ashley added. 

“You seem like a fan of the insulated tumblers,” Paulina explained to Phantom, “since you always have that one latched on your belt. Now you have some variety.” 

Of course, she, Star, and Dash had debated fervently on whether or not it actually contained drinks, or some kind of sonic blast or secret ghost thing, or some combination thereof. He did point it at ghosts a lot in the news broadcasts or fights above the school, but it was hard to tell whether that was some kind of ceremonial victory toast, or what. 

Phantom laughed. “This is a weapon, actually,” he explained, tapping the canister dangling from his hip with a hollow tnk, tnk. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t do anything to humans.” 

“Haha, yess,” Dash pumped his fist. “Toldja.” 

“Hey, I was right, too! He is a coffee drinker!” Paulina argued. 

“I mean, he could also be drinking negative energies,” Star shrugged. “Coffee’s not exclusive.” 

“Woah, woah, woah, girls, you’re all pretty,” Phantom interrupted. “The cup’s great, thanks. Coffee is great. Ectoplasm? Kinda meh. The fangs are only for show, Star, I don’t actually drink the blood or bad juju of my enemies. I’m a capture and release kinda guy.” 

“Also valid,” she nodded. 

“Wait, but you’ve tried it?” Brittany leaned forwards on hands centered in her criss-crossed lap. “Ectoplasm, I mean. What’s it like?” 

“I’m a man of many great nosebleeds and split lips,” he deadpanned, “not drinking or drugs or cannibalism . Nothing scarier than caffeine and Advil in this one. Take a chill pill. Metaphorically. Geez, you guys, you’re the weirdo cultists. I’m just your average… wholesome… friendly neighborhood ghost dude.” 

“Guys, he’s so right. We’re the cultists. We should eat him,” Ashley chimed in. 

This time, everyone caught on and shook their fingers collectively at her. 

“Hey, open the cup!” Star said. 

“There’s still more ?” He didn’t bother to unscrew the lid correctly, just phasing it off the Stanley cup to peer at the contents. “Oh my gosh.” 

Out came more gift receipts (of course), a twenty-five dollar Starbucks gift card, a twenty-five dollar gift card to Bucky’s Music Mega Store, two gift tickets to Marmel’s Multiplex 22 Movie Theater, and the latest edition of Airpods. The case was customized with emojis—a ghost, a double heart, and a fist. It had taken Paulina months of careful sale-hunting and saving up her allowance for all this— and a few extra chores around the house for cash.

“Good gravy, Paulina. This is all really expensive ,” he wheezed. “Geez Louise. Should I be scared right now? This feels like a bribe. What’s the catch?” 

“You’re the catch,” she replied without thinking. 

Someone might’ve muffled a giggle at that, but to her, the room fell dead silent. Everyone watched her, but most of all those wide, unreal green eyes. 

She clapped a hand to her rebellious, runaway lips. “Um, we caught you, I mean, and, uh…? The moral is… the real gift is the friends you make along the way?”

What the heck? Why weren’t the words coming out right, like they always did in her mushy daydreams? Her shoulder blades shrugged up to shield her, and her toes curled and uncurled like they were gonna dig a hole through the carpet to bury her in where she sat.

“Girl, I think he already knows you like him,” Ashley helpfully murdered the awkward silence. Paulina buried her face farther in her hands, hoping she wasn’t smudging her makeup. 

“I mean… I don’t wanna give you the wrong idea,” he started gently. “This is all really, really nice. You seem like a nice girl. For a kidnapper and a cultist, of course.” 

“Phantom,” she interrupted, smacking her cheeks lightly and looking at him again. 

“Yeah?” 

“I like you. Very much.” 

He blinked and glowed brighter, cheeks and pointy ears green again. 

“Oh, snap,” someone whispered. 

“But nobody here is trying to buy your love… or your friendship or power or anything,” she lied, just a little bit. “We’re trying to give you love. We all like you a lot—in our varying ways. We’re all fans and allies and… you already did your part, just by protecting us and being who you are. If you wanna repay us… just… take care of yourself out there. And, I guess, don’t be a stranger… y’know?” 

“Well… dang, okay. Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still flushed like a beautiful Martian. “Sorry, I guess the, um, occasional torches-and-pitchforks, guns-blazing kinda reception leaves a guy with some trust issues. But this is all super generous and swanky and… I mean, clearly you put a lot of thought into it, so… thanks, Paulina.” 

And then he smiled directly at her, not the cocky, crooked grin she knew and loved but something soft, earnest, and bashful, and she could’ve sworn she almost floated right off the ground. 

“Paulina,” Dash brought her back down to earth with a surprisingly gentle thump on the back. “The club stuff?” 

“Oh, yeah, right! Of course!” 

She shook her head gently, setting down the empty tote bag to pull a pair of envelopes out of her bathrobe pocket. One was big and lumpy, decorated and sealed with a sparkly green heart sticker, and the other was fairly standard and only tucked closed. 

“As the president of Casper High’s Ghost Boy Fan Club, I’d like to present you with your fan mail.” She held out the bigger envelope. 

Phantom grimaced, leaned forward, and slowly reached for the envelope with about as much enthusiasm as if it were a dirty sock. “Oh, great. Do I really wanna read this stuff?” 

“I moderated it for you, there’s nothing nasty,” she affirmed. 

He took it. “You read my mail, you mean.” 

“Tch—yeah?” She turned her face from him, tossing her hair and crossing her arms, tapping her upper arm with the corner of the remaining envelope. “Poison tester’s privileges. You’re welcome.” 

He stuck his thumb under the lip of the envelope. “Should I read it now? ” 

“Oh, *, naw,” Ashley objected. “I do not need to hear my bro’s mushy fanboy mail for the umpteenth time, you can read that in your own dang time.” 

“Okay good. I don’t need the third-hand embarrassment from you guys watching me cry manly tears at Ashley’s brother’s letter, either.” 

That was a relief. Paulina might not have survived it if he’d chosen to read her love letter aloud. 

Phantom set the fan mail aside, taking the other envelope. “What’s this?” 

“This one, you might not want to read in depth right now, but look it over, at least. It requires a little explanation… one last gift, from all of us,” Paulina shared. 

“Alright, but if this is another meme, I’m gonna have to…” he trailed off, brows furrowing, bright eyes skimming the printed text. “Wait, what kinda marketing jargon is this?” 

“It’s my fundraiser idea! I already have a lot of followers on Insta. Star and I were gonna create some fan content—you know, we’re cute, we’re good dancers, and with Ashley’s makeup skills for cosplay, Brittany and her boyfriend on video editing… we’re gonna get on Patreon or Fanso, and put the money to, like, raising ghost safety awareness and repairing city damages from your fights.” 

He sat up so quickly, he actually drifted off the beanbag, floating a few inches. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, like, I already get the guys out to help with the rubble sometimes after we hit the gym, we just don’t have the manpower to hit it hard enough,” Dash chimed in, bumping his fist into his other hand. “Paulina’s gonna take this thing viral.” 

“ You … do volunteer work?” Phantom stared at Dash, agog. 

“Uh, yeah? The heart’s a muscle, too, man. Besides, I save the biggest rocks for myself.” Dash flexed an overdeveloped bicep. 

Most of the girls rolled their eyes at that.

“If we gain enough traction, we’ve been hoping to get some petitions going to, like… protect you, legally. Not from ghosts, maybe, but from people, at least,” Paulina went on. 

“Can you do that? Is that a thing?” Phantom gripped the sides of his head, slowly spinning in place. “Me? With rights? I’m a ghost. Guys, this is nuts. Someone must’ve spiked my coffee.” 

“You don’t understand, Phantom, this is her pet project, this is her baby. Tell him about the contests,” Star nudged Paulina. 

“Yeah, people can submit their videos or content, so winning entries can be posted behind the paywall. That way people can still participate from out-of-state,” she explained, “even if they can’t attend the social clean-ups we’ll host.” 

“Please enter.” Ashley’s tone was half-joking. 

“Yes!” Paulina hopped to her feet, fists clenched in excitement. “You could—if you wanted, I mean, if you have time—you could dance with us! Or, or, you could sing, I know people would pay gobs to hear it, and we could do interviews or livestream Q and A with you so people could recognize you’re not a monster, you’re— real, and good, and… our hero.” 

“Oh my gosh, you guys. No way.” Phantom’s legs had faded to steam, flicking and curling with excitement, and the light cast by his aura had definitely ticked up a notch—it was a little difficult to look him directly in the eyes, like accidentally looking into the beam of a flashlight. 

“If this works, I could—maybe I wouldn’t have to—I mean… this could be a game changer for me. Definitely would be cool to not be hated by the local taxpayers and hunted by the government, if you know what I mean.” 

“Might get those crackpot Fentons off your tail,” Dash grumbled. 

“Hey!” Phantom scowled, surprising everyone. He blinked and fixed his expression, drifting back down a little, visibly dimming. “Uh… that’s not very nice?” 

“Woah, bro,” Dash waved with placating hands. “I’m not, like, throwing shade on all ghost hunters, because you’re the pro, man. But you gotta admit, they’re, like… total freaks.” 

“They’re people,” Phantom defended them. “Just trying to look out for other people.” 

“Phantom… you know they want to kill you, right? Like… really, really bad,” Star warned him. 

He heaved a sigh and tousled his hair, slumping back down onto re-formed legs with a strangely solid flump. “Well, yeah. I’m not people.” 

“No!” Paulina stomped her foot with a muffled thump on the carpet, surprising even herself with her ferocity. “That’s not true! You—” I love you, she wanted to blurt, but that was stupid. “You’re worthy of love and safety, too! What even makes people human, anyway, if it’s not a soul? And that’s what you are—and you’re so good, and caring, and genuine.” 

He blinked at her, brows lifted, lips slightly parted. She held his gaze despite her fluttering nerves.

“Nobody hates on the ghost boy under my roof. Not even you,” she finished, sitting back down, suddenly breathless. 

He smirked at her, boyish but not snide. “Well, darn, guess I’ll see myself out, ‘cause that’s just my whole sense of humor,” he joked lightly. 

“Guys, they got ‘im with the internalized discrimination, we need to get these petitions signed, like, yesterday, ” Ashley voiced her support. 

“Yeah, man, we’re not gonna let ‘em throw you off your game,” Dash joined in. 

“Thanks, guys… this is a lot to take in,” Phantom waved the paper, “and it’s a lot of work, obviously. I’m… I don’t even know what to say. I hope it works. Really cool of you to try, either way. Please be safe, don’t get in legal trouble or fights or anything for me.” 

“You know I’d go to jail for you, babe,” Ashley joked. 

Phantom shook his head with a chuckle. “This really is everything, right? I’m not supposed to unfold this and find another present inside?” 

“For now,” Paulina nodded. 

Phantom set the page among all the scattered meme papers and stood, stretching his arms overhead. “Well. This has been, frankly, awesome, and completely not what I ever expected. Next time you kidnap a sleeping guy— don’t , but, just saying—start with the swag and the flattery, it’ll get you everywhere. So… thanks again, you guys. I appreciate the effort.” 

He saluted and nodded to a chorus of appreciation. “Geez, I feel like I owe you guys all a hug or something,” he offered, arms hanging open in more of a shrug than a motion to embrace. 

Ashley took the invitation immediately, launching up to squeeze an oof and a stumble out of him. “I love you, Casper!” She crowed. 

“And I love you, random citizen,” he faked a baritone, patting the top of her head. 

“Outta the way, lemme show you how it’s done,” Dash bustled, crushing Phantom immediately in a bear hug and lifting him off his feet. 

“Wow, okay,” the ghost wheezed, glowing white boots dangling. “Yep. Thanks buddy. Not the bro hug I expected.” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I gotchu.” Dash set him down, then immediately clasped his hand and thumped his back in an excessively macho bro hug. 

“Don’t maul him! Brute,” Star elbowed Dash, embracing the ghost briefly. “Thanks for visiting, it was amazing to meet you.” 

“Yeah, you’re so nice? This has been the coolest party ever,” Brittany added quietly, bashfully taking her second ghost hug for the night. 

Paulina stood patiently, waiting for him to come to her, poised and savoring her yearning. It was perfect: his shoulder was exactly the right height for her to rest her cheek on, she fit just right in his arms like she’d imagined. He was all cool, crisp static and thin, lean muscle. She skimmed her fingers over the plushy back of the hoodie, and he patted her back twice gently through the padding of her thick hair. 

“Thanks for everything,” she purred. 

“Heh—sure, no prob. Thanks for the party, Paulina,” he murmured, stepping away, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away. “Hey—what time is it? Maybe I should high-tail it out of here.” 

“It’s four twenty,” Star confirmed, glancing at her phone. 

He sniffed, rubbing his chin and floating, surveying the mess of his scattered gifts and packages. “Mm. Nice. I mean… maybe I won’t just take the loot and dip, I dunno.” 

“Oh my gosh, please stay for the games,” Paulina egged him on. “It’ll be totally fun and worth it, I promise.” 

“Mm… sleep is also fun, gotta say,” he shrugged. “But go on; try and convince me.”

Chapter Text

Ten minutes later, Phantom's gifts were back in the tote for easy carrying later, minus his funeral flowers still decorating the coffee table off to the side and the stylish new additions to his costume. Phantom had a coffee refill, half the party had plates with grapes, mini cucumbers, pretzels, crackers, and cheese, and Star had brought in the games. 

“Alright, by show of hands: who votes for Monopoly?” Paulina directed. 

Monopoly was boring and lame, but if it kept Phantom there for longer, it’d be worth it, so she raised her own hand. Mercifully, no one else did. 

“Cards Against Humanity?” 

Okay, noted: Phantom was into that one. Too bad Brittney and Star weren’t. She wrinkled her nose delicately at her BFF. Traitor. 

“SWAK?” Paulina batted her eyelashes and fanned herself with a handful of index cards. 

“What the heck is ‘smack’?” Dash raised a critical eyebrow against all the girl’s-only votes. 

“Sealed With a Kiss. It takes, like, ten minutes, tops. You make a lipstick kiss on the card and then you’ve gotta try to guess whose is whose,” Star explained, hand still raised. She was in on the true motive, of course: to have a kiss from Phantom they could keep forever! 

“Ew,” Dash cringed. “Yeah, no. Veto.” 

Paulina shrugged airily. So far, the top picks were tied at four votes. “Truth or Dare?” 

That one was unanimous, although Phantom was a little slow to lift his hand. 

“Can we all just agree to not, uh.. ask me to do anything too dangerous for myself or anyone else? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I ain’t goin’ down without a fight, but, y’know, there’s… stuff in my line of duty, I can’t just, like…?” He waved his hands, at a loss for words.

“Pshh,” Ashley scoffed. “Phantom, I double dog dare you to punt Dash through the wall immediately.” 

“Let’s go ,” Dash agreed, pointing his hands over his head in a triangle. “I become football.” 

Phantom laughed and shook the cracker in his hand at them. “Hey, don’t tempt me!” 

“Phantom… you know we don’t wanna do anything that would hurt you, we’re just playing. If you have to skip something for, like… magic reasons, or ghost reasons or whatever, you’re good,” Paulina assured him. And for pity’s sake, please, nobody be stupid enough to ask him how he died, she silently prayed. 

“Yeah, no points off your score if it’s, like, work-related,” Star agreed. 

“Aw, shucks, you’ll give me the advantage? Even if I’m… merciless ?” He grinned devilishly, fangs glinting, drumming his fingertips together. 

“Bring it, tough guy,” Dash agreed, bumping a fist into his other hand. 

“Well, Phantom,” Paulina rose briefly, setting the other games aside. “You’re the guest of honor. Pick your first victim.” 

“Oh ho ho ho,” he laughed darkly. His form smudged eerily, like ink melting into water. The candle flames danced. “Daaaash Baaaaaxter. Truth? Or daaare?” 

“Alright!” Dash beamed, not perturbed at all by the stereotypically ghostly performance. “Dare.” 

“Show us the most embarrassing photo on your phone,” the ghost chirped without hesitation, snapping back to a solid state with a slightly maniacal grin. 

“...Dangit! I knew I should’ve deleted this,” Dash grumbled, swiping through his phone. Paulina leaned over his shoulder, glimpsing his text history with Kwan skating by under his deft fingers. 

“There. Happy?” He flashed the photo for everyone to see: a blurry Dash falling sideways off a bike at the gym, dumbbells flying out of both hands. 

Phantom cackled. “...What were you even trying to do?” 

“Hittin’ the daily grind, man,” Dash shook his head at himself with a sheepish grin. “Stayed up late, got to the gym late, thought I’d make up time. Hey, I had it until Kwan started cracking the lame jokes.” 

“Where is he, anyway? I thought you bunch were, like, thick as thieves.” 

“Oh, yeah. He got the flu,” Dash shrugged. “Anyway. Square up, man; truth or dare?” 

“Hey!” Paulina intercepted. “No dare-backs!” They’d never get anywhere at this rate! 

“Also, mad cap,” Ashley goaded, elbowing Dash. 

“What? Nah, bro’s sick as a dog, you know he wouldn’t have missed it for—” 

“Nah fam. You got worse pics on your phone. You legit posted this on our group chat this week.” Ashley flashed her own phone screen: someone’s fanart of Phantom, flexing bulky muscles and dressed up like a sexy anime magical girl. 

“Nuh-uh, that doesn’t count!” Dash crossed his arms and jutted out his chin. “ You should be embarrassed for, like, not respecting the arts. I’m just a man of culture. ” 

Phantom wheezed with laughter, hand over his mouth. “Wow… dang… alright. Why not? You do you, dude.” 

“Dude, shut uuup,” Dash blustered, waving Ashley and Phantom away. “Paulina, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

“Yeah! Eat a spoonful of hot sauce.” 

“Hah!” She hopped to her feet, fists clenched, grinning, before whirling and racing for the stairs. “Ha ha!” 

“Wait. Crap,” Dash called after her. “Mayo! I meant mayo—” 

Too late, suckers! She shut the basement door on Star’s cheers and Dash’s scrambling, quickly and quietly snatching a bottle of Tabasco from the dimly-lit kitchen before whirling back down to the basement, her dark curls and lacy bathrobe hem floating behind her. 

“Mayo or bust,” Dash insisted as she poured herself a generous spoonful. 

“Nope. Too late. Gonna have to catch me next round,” she crowed, downing the hot sauce with hardly a wince. It wasn’t very good on its own, obviously, but the heat wasn’t anything compared to her tía’s fajitas. Better than oily, greasy mayonnaise, eegh. She’d dodged a bullet there.

The girls clapped politely. Dash groaned. 

She smacked her lips and set down the spoon, fanning herself with one hand. “Phew! Star?” 

“Truth.” 

“From the people in this room—kiss, marry, kill?” 

Star rubbed her chin, leaning back and gazing around contemplatively. “Mmm… kind of a steep commitment there, y’know? I mean, I feel like the right answer is to kill Phantom, because—” 

He clapped both hands to his chest in mock offense. Paulina gasped and pretended to faint, and Dash glowered and raised a fist in an obviously fake threat, as if the blonde cheerleader could pose any actual threat to the hero in their midst. 

“Hey! Only because he’s already dead, so, like… he’d probably be fine?” She tried to justify her answer.

“Yo, I would not take that bet. We’re all so screwed without him,” Dash pointed out. “He’d definitely beat you, anyway.” 

“Gee. Thanks.” Phantom pretended to wipe a tear. 

“Oh my gosh, you guys, I wouldn’t actually pick him! Dash, you’re out. Sorry, buddy. Sisters before misters.” 

“Slay, queen,” Ashley clapped. “Off with his head. Packers hater.” 

The sentenced jock grunted and pushed Ashley, who pushed him back, giggling. 

“Obviously, I’d kiss Phantom. Call me basic. I mean, no offense. You are famous. I wouldn’t say no if you kissed me right now, just to have the experience,” Star rambled on, almost keeping her cool. 

Phantom covered his cheeks with both hands, then bobbed his eyebrows flirtatiously. Ashley and Brittney squealed. 

“Marrying Paulina. We’d have the prettiest house and the best parties forever , we’d take good care of each other and all our fur babies,” Star finished, leaning in to drape her arms over Paulina’s shoulders for a loose embrace. Star’s chin settled on her collarbone, and her golden blonde hair blanketed her with the smell of sweet floral perfume. Paulina patted her friend’s lean, faintly freckled arm. 

“Hey,” Dash objected mildly. “‘Scuse me? You’re killing me and running off with my girlfriend?” 

“Cute,” Brittney approved. 

“Britt?” Star asked. 

“Yeah?” 

“Truth or dare,” Star asked, retreating. 

“Oh. Uh. Truth.” 

“Aliens… are they really out there?” 

“What?” Brittney laughed. “Like… I dunno! That’s the real truth. But I feel like they probably are, and they’re smart enough to figure we’re not worth their trouble.” 

“I mean, did you know that if the huge gravitational pull of Jupiter and Saturn didn’t pull asteroids away from Earth, we’d all have died out from how many more asteroids would’ve hit us?" Phantom chimed in. "That’s just one thing, but hey. If you wanna get existential. You gotta consider how crazy inhospitable the universe is if everything isn’t, like, perfectly lined up for life. Actually, our magnetic field, too—if Earth were any smaller, the solar wind would just, like, shred the atmosphere, right? But if it were any bigger, our gravity would make the atmosphere too thick to breathe. Not to even mention our exact distance from the sun. Just sayin’. Our planet’s pretty freakin’ lucky.” 

The party stared. He blinked, shrugged, and let out an adorable, tiny chuckle, sinking farther back into the beanbag. 

“Kshh. Phantom’s an alien, confirmed,” Ashley said into her hand like it was a walkie-talkie.

“What the heck. Are you actually, like, a refugee from another planet, though?” Star asked, eyes wide. 

“... Superman? ” Dash asked, somehow even more incredulous. 

“Guys. No.” Phantom gestured at himself. “Ghost. Named Phantom? Friendly neighborhood dead guy. Hello.” 

“Wait.” Brittney’s eyebrows furrowed. “Phantom—that… can’t be your real name. What is your name?” 

“Inviso-Bill,” he deadpanned. 

“Really?” 

“Heck, no.” He scratched the back of his head. “Hey, are we gonna play the game, or—”

“Oh, sorry! Truth or dare, Phantom?” Britt asked. 

“Dare.” 

“Umm…” 

She played with her auburn hair and looked around the room, as if seeking inspiration from the neutral-tone plush recliners, the sofa pushed back against the wall, or the tables with party snacks and Yankee candles. 

“If you don’t mind… could you show us a power you don’t really use in battle much? Just if it’s safe.” 

“Oh, probably? Lemme think.” He squinted up at the ceiling, mouthing words and counting something off on his hand. Finally, he snapped his fingers. “Got it. Watch this— ” 

His brow furrowed, his gloved hand hovered over his plate of goodies, and the tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration. A faint glow outlined a cheese cube, which then slowly bobbed up through the air. Like a cheap magic trick, he floated it over his head. Then the light from his magic went out, and the cheese dropped into his open mouth.

“Ta-da?” He shrugged, to a smattering of golf claps. “Yeah. Anticlimactic, I know. Takes way too much effort, honestly.”

“Can you levitate people, too? Like… is there a weight limit?” Star wanted to know.

“You know? I actually don’t know. But I don’t know why not? Like—” 

He pointed a finger gun at Dash, who, after a second’s pause, faintly lit up and lifted about a foot off the ground. 

“Whoa!” The jock flailed, unbalanced but unable to fall in the ethereal magic’s grasp. 

Phantom set him back down and dusted his hands off. “Yep, that’s a thing. Neat. Anyway, uh… Ashley?” 

“Ohmigosh.” She sat up. “Dare me up, brotha.” 

“Chubby bunny.” 

“You’re awful,” she laughed. “Pauli, do you have marshmallows, or do I have to use the grapes?” 

She made it to nine before one shot back out of her overstuffed mouth like a bullet, rolling under the sofa. She almost choked laughing. 

“Pauli. Pick dare. Trust me. I got a banger,” she goaded, wiping slobber off her face. 

Paulina arched her eyebrow and tapped her chin. “Mmmm… yeah, I’ll bite. What’s the dare?”

“Mayo,” Dash grunted. 

“Swap clothes with Phantom for the rest of the party!” 

“Ooooooh, nice one,” Star voiced to an audience of appreciative nods.

“Ay, whoa, whoa. No dare-backs?” Phantom crossed his arms and looked to Paulina for help. 

“Ah, que será, será, Phantom, what can we do? I think she got us, fair and square.” She shrugged with a cute head-tilt, nonchalant, as if this weren’t the best bad idea she’d ever heard in her life. Ay, caramba … for her to wear the gloves that had transferred so much power and held the weight of so many battles, to be wrapped in his mysterious scent, to feel on her own skin what he had touched so much… gah, she’d have an actual heart attack! This was such a couples thing to do!

“Geez. And they call me a menace?” Phantom’s objection brought her back to the moment.

“You can keep your underwear or whatever,” Ashley allowed, “but Paulina has to wear the freakin’ ghostie ones!” 

Paulina smacked her forehead, but she fished them out of the gifts, along with the unopened glow-in-the-dark socks. Hopefully, no one would see the heat in her cheeks. “Ha ha, fine, I guess… I mean… at least they’re clean?” 

“Hey, I think this interferes with, like, my ghost core. I’ll destabilize. From humiliation,” Phantom tried lamely. 

“Booo,” Dash objected. 

“C’mon, I think pink will look good on you! It’ll really make your green eyes pop,” Paulina encouraged, scampering away from the group. “Let’s get changed in the bathroom.” 

Then the door shut, and she was literally alone with her really big, really down-bad crush. To strip. Heaven help her. Should she write Ashley a thank-you note, or strangle her? She bit her lip, light-headed and tingly all over. Cool. Keep it cool. 

It was just… weird to be in such a small space with him. Weird to see the glowing, floating, powerful figure against the cheery turquoise walls and seashell-print shower curtain. Among her entourage, it was so natural to take charge and treat him like a guest; alone, suddenly, he was so close, she could hardly breathe.

“Pfff.” Phantom flipped the shades down at his reflection, evidently oblivious to Paulina’s mushy panic. “Yep, these are a winner.” 

“Mm. Yeah. Wh, hey—you have a reflection,” Paulina noted, glancing at her own image to smooth down a few misplaced hairs. 

“Yeah?” His big, bright eyes met hers in the mirror. He leaned his head back with a goofy open-mouthed smile, showcasing his fangs and the muted green roof of his mouth while fingering the tip of one pointy ear. “Excuse me, miss? Do I look like a vampire to you?” 

She let out a string of squeaky giggles at that, more than the corny comment was worth. “Go change in the tub, they’re waiting.” 

“Oh, so we’re not just, like, using the honor system here? Bummer.” His tacky glasses hit the counter with a click. He quirked a brow up at her, fanning himself with the fabric edges of his hoodie like the guys in music videos before he slowly started shrugging it off.

Hoh! She fanned herself and whistled. Not to be outdone, she pulled the top of her bathrobe open like Superman to show off her pajama top, leaning a little closer and shimmying her shoulders. 

“Daaang, girl,” he teased, totally trashing her suave act with her knee-jerk giggle fit. Her pajamas weren’t all that skimpy, but his gaze still had almost as much static as his physical touch, leaving goosebumps everywhere it met her bare skin. 

“Alright, you bad boy.” She crossed her hands over the low neckline of her top and batted her eyelashes up at him, pretending she was coy and poised and not totally flustered. 

“I know, I know, your house, your game, your rules,” he shrugged innocently, darting up and over the curtain rod and out of sight—although, not quick enough to hide his own neon blush. “Can’t blame me for trying!” 

She couldn’t blame him for trying to—what? Distract her enough to get out of the dare? Catch a peek? Flirt? Was he just playing around, or actually coming onto her? Her heart was a runaway hamster wheel, but she was way too tongue-tied to risk asking. 

Was he bad enough to peek? She’d never know, he could just turn his head invisible and float to see over. She mimed an I’m-Watching-You at the curtain, and thanked her lucky stars she’d picked nice underthings today. 

“Ah!” She squeaked as the balled-up hoodie and jersey flew over the curtain rod, harmlessly smacking her shoulder as she flinched away. “Phantom!” 

“Ope. You good?” 

“Ohmigosh, you guys,” Ashley’s muffled voice came in under the door. “They’re doin’ the do in there.” 

“Ashley!!!” Paulina shrieked, clutching her wadded up pajama top to her chest. 

“Oh my gosh,” Phantom mocked, ghostly voice even more echo-y against the tile of the shower. “We’re banging and you didn’t even tell me? I’m so hurt.” 

“Stooop, you guys are the worst,” Paulina laughed, stepping out of her shorts and self-consciously adjusting her underclothes. The skin of her face and neck burned and prickled, not uncomfortably. 

“Ladies, c’mon, they want privacy ,” Star egged on the snickering group outside, and the shadows of feet under the door drifted off. 

Not long after, she passed her neatly folded clothes around the curtain and gathered his stuff from where he’d mostly dropped it on the floor. She shivered and rubbed her hands over her bare arms, chilly thanks to his aura. 

“Do I put the underwear, like, under your suit, or over, d’ya think?” She asked, cutting the tags off with toenail clippers. “They’ve gotta know I’m wearing them.” 

“Put them on your head,” he suggested matter-of-factly. 

“Tchh, duh, you’re so right,” she shook her head. 

The rubber suit was thick, dull, and almost completely foreign, without his glow to make it shine. It didn’t fit too badly—a little tight across the chest and around her hips. Over top, she tied the jersey up with a hair band. 

“You ready?” He called. 

“No?” Moving in the heavy, sticky rubber was a little awkward, she was struggling with the boots. “You can come out if you want, though.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll just savor my last moment of dignity,” he sniffed. 

“Aw, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” 

“It’s bad,” he huffed out his nose. 

She clipped his belt in place. It hung a little lopsided on her narrow waist. Now that she’d handled it, his thermos-weapon thing was really weirdly familiar. “Hey, doesn’t Danny have one of these?” 

“Huh? Danny who?” 

“Fenton.” She tapped the metal thermos with her nail, strangely satisfied at the hollow tng, tng sound. 

“Oh, uh, whatever. I dunno. Probably. I did get it from the Fentons. Pretty sure they made it.” 

“Really? Did they… give it to you?” That was weird, right? They were literally always cautioning the public not to trust Phantom, and to call their hotline if he was spotted. Why would they help him? 

“No? Well, I mean—yeah, kinda. Someone threw it at my head, I think. That was a while back.” 

“Hm! Rude? Way to make lemonade out of it, though.” 

He scoffed. “Yeah, I guess I could, uh. Make lemonade, in my thermos. Gotta stay hydrated on the job, y’know.” 

“Pfffff, you know that’s not what I—whatever.” The underwear on her head was just too much, so she tied them around her gloved wrist like a really, really dumb corsage. “You ready?” 

“Nahhh.” 

He stepped out anyway, silky bathrobe hanging open over her black, lacy, spaghetti strap crop-top and her black and pink sugar skull-patterned pajama shorts, riding low on his narrow hip bones. Santa mierda ! He never showed this much skin. He wasn’t as bulky as she would’ve assumed; his abs, quads, and chest weren’t beefy , like Dash or the cartoon superheroes, and instead he had lean, whippy muscles like an endurance athlete. He was peppered with scars: green or gray tinted spots, splashes, and puckered stripes. There were little scratches all over his bare forearms and hands, and a few big nasty ones spanning his midriff. One especially ropy scar encircled most of his upper left thigh like a macabre garter. His ankles… were those marks from shackles ? 

Was it really bad that she wanted to touch them? What would he even do if she did? She wanted to read them like braille. She wanted to know the stories behind every single one, she wanted to memorize them. She wanted to massage them, if they ever ached. 

She’d definitely been staring for too long. To her credit, so had he.

He inhaled through his teeth, rocked back on his heels, looked down at himself, then floated close to see in the mirror. “What do you think, are we slaying the Barbie Frankenstein look, or is it slaying me? ‘Cause I’m thinking the latter. It’s a little bit much. Or maybe a little bit, uh, not enough .” To her disappointment, he tied the bathrobe shut. As an upside, though, it allowed her brain and her mouth to come back online.

“Oh, pshh, nah. Like. It’s totally your color,” she winked. “But, honestly, you’d look good in anything.” 

She bit her tongue, deafened by her heart in her ears. Literally, you’re so hot I’m gonna die. Was this what all those poor boys at school felt when she broke their hearts? No wonder they sounded so stupid. 

“Well, shucks, if you say so.” Phantom rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. “You definitely got the better end of the deal. Look like you’re headed to a costume party.” He winked back at her. “Rockin’ it, party girl.” 

“Aww, thanks.” She held a hand to her cheek. “Ready to knock everyone’s socks off?” 

“Wait, hold up.” 

He reached for her hair, hesitated, then brushed the cool edge of his thumb into her hairline like he was going to tuck her hair behind her ear. Any longer and she’d have passed out, but after a second, he drew back with her trademark pink hair clip in hand. He fumbled with his own hair in the mirror for a second before managing to snap it in place above his ear. 

“Welp. Might as well get it over with, huh?” 

Of course, the second Paulina opened the door, the whole party’s clicking, flashing phone cameras were directly in their faces. Paulina shrieked and fell back into Phantom, who proceeded to hold her up in front of him like a human shield. It was a tough sacrifice, to give up his cool, sweet, steady presence behind her in order to dive at Ashley and pretend to maul her, but it was absolutely necessary. 

“Hey, Pauli, it’s your turn! Pick a victim!” Star crowed.

Oh, yeah, the game! She narrowed her eyes, scheming. Who would definitely pick a dare, that she could definitely manipulate to get her revenge? 

“Dash!” 

He shot her a thumbs-up. “Dare!” 

“Wait one second, I gotta grab something.”

Flump, flump, flump, she ran up the stairs in boots too big for her feet. She had to be a little more careful darting through the kitchen this time—her parents would definitely have questions about her odd outfit. 

When she returned, she scattered permanent markers in Dash’s lap. “Draw as many dumb Sharpie tattoos on Ashley as you can in the next five minutes,” she commanded. 

Ashley was quick and feisty, but she had nothing on Casper High’s star quarterback. She did have some pretty creative insults for Dash and his mom while he sat on her and drew an enormous, lopsided poop emoji on the back of one of her thighs, and—of course—a tacky cartoon weenie on the other. Whatever he was trying to do on her face didn’t survive her thrashing and came out as a squiggly line from her forehead across to her lip, but the Steelers logo on her shoulder came out surprisingly alright. Dash, of course, got multicolored streaks all over both arms and his forehead once Ashley wisened up and slashed him with a whole fistful of uncapped markers. Phantom started to stand up a few times, like he was thinking of interfering, which was actually adorable. Neither of the wrestling teens got hurt, just breathless and humiliated by the time Paulina’s phone timer jingled. 

“Dishonor on you,” Ashley panted. “Dishonor on your cow!” 

“Hey! You got ink on my special jersey!” Dash whined, stretching out the fabric. 

“Son?” Ashley objected, shaking her oversized band shirt at him, which also had a few colorful steaks. “You freakin’ asked for it.” 

“Oh, hey, I can just—” Phantom planted one hand on Dash’s chest over the scribble, then phased the other hand right through the taller boy’s ribcage to meet both palms together. When he stepped back, the ink had transferred from the shirt to his hand. 

“...Bro,” Dash mumbled appreciatively. “Thanks.” 

“Ah-ah-ah, dead boy, I dunno where those hands have been at,” Ashley hugged her shirt to herself and stepped back before the ghost could pull the same trick on her. “Don’t you be messin’ around in my lungs now. I’ll keep my battle scars, thanks.” 

“Suit yourself,” Phantom shrugged, clapping his palm to Dash’s like he was going for a bro hug only to pull the same intangibility trick in reverse and leave the ink behind. 

“How did you learn to do that?” Star asked. “I’m so jealous right now.” 

“Oh, y’know. Blood stains. Comes in handy.” 

Huh. Did Phantom have blood? Everyone had seen his green, glowing injuries on TV or around town. Maybe the color didn’t matter. It didn’t seem like it’d have much impact on this thick rubber stuff, but maybe, since the gloves were so white. 

“Do you think you could, like, take off someone’s tattoo the same way?” Brittney asked. 

“Now, that. ” Phantom pointed at her. “That would be rad. I like the way you think. New side hustle comin’ up, ‘bout to make me rich.” 

“Phantom,” Dash pointed. “I dare you to—”

“Hey, whoa, what?” The ghost sputtered his interruption. “I don’t get a choice?” 

Dash crossed his arms and puffed his chest out. “What, you gonna pick a truth? Huh?” 

“Pshh, well. Nah, probably not.” 

“Yeah, didn’t think so. Dare you to legit yeet me as hard as you can, and then catch me,” he challenged. 

“Mm. Veto. Sorry, man, I just really don’t need your ghost to deal with, too. Although… I mean. Maybe if I just tossed you, like, a little bit. Not peak effort, just… fair to middling.” 

“Bet.” Dash pumped his fist and started for the stairs. 

“Hey!” 

Phantom didn’t move to follow, instead drifting for the wall. The foggy pink and olive skin-tone ghost tail was a little weird, compared to the black and white ombre it usually was with his suit on. Did it reflect anything he wore? Probably would’ve looked neat if he was wearing something flashy, maybe some glitter or striped pants. 

“Shortcut, anyone?” He touched the wall, and part of it disappeared, letting the candle light pour out onto Paulina’s back patio. 

The guests shuffled outside. Star was smart enough to bring her blanket and walked with Ashley under one arm, Brittney under the other, cuddling for warmth. The stuffy, completely unbreathable super suit kept Paulina plenty warm. She didn’t wanna think about how gross the Fentons probably smelled at the end of the day, running around all day every day in something this hot. It was a good thing Phantom was his own air conditioning unit. 

“So, the thing is, you’re not aerodynamic, and don’t take this personally, but you are fragile,” Phantom was saying. “Maybe if you curl up. Like a ball?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dash squatted down and hugged his knees. “This good?” 

“Guess we’ll find out,” Phantom joked. “Going up!” 

He picked the bigger guy up by his shoulders like it was nothing, adjusted his grip to almost a classic damsel-in-distress carry, then flew up over the rooftops. 

“Are we gonna catch a look up his bathrobe?” Ashley joked. 

“Oh my gosh,” Brittney agreed, scandalized. 

The details were fuzzy from the ground, some forty feet below, but Phantom looked like he had Dash overhead, almost like a basketball. Then the jock arced off into the night with a shout. A light turned on in a nearby house. Phantom’s comet trail gleamed faintly like an afterimage as he shot in a blur after Dash, disappearing into the dark. 

“Boys,” Brittney shook her head. 

“Amen, sis,” Star tutted. 

A moment later, the grass in the dim lawn rustled, and with a burst of light, Phantom appeared in their midst again... alone. “You guys, he’s gone. I… I can’t find him.” 

Everyone gasped. Paulina’s heart dropped, pretty much frozen solid. “Phantom!” 

Familiar, stupid, muffled laughter erupted beside Phantom, and then the ghost laughed, too, as Dash appeared right next to him. He must’ve shared his invisibility, somehow. 

“You… jerks!” 

Star took off her blanket to throw it. Phantom dodged, and it buried Dash, who was bent over wheezing with mirth. 

“Hey, he thought of it! Big bully,” Phantom playfully shoved Dash’s shoulder. “I just hid us so we wouldn’t scare your neighbors.” 

“Oh, so you just scared us instead? Real mature, guys.” 

Just as everyone was settling back down inside to continue the game, Star, Dash, and Brittney’s phones all buzzed in sync—two long, three-second holds, then a blip. 

“You guys don’t mute your ghost alerts? How do you ever sleep,” Ashley asked. 

Star looked at her screen. “I just turned it back on for tonight, I was worried someone would see Phantom or something. Holy crap, you guys—that thing is huge .” 

Phantom was over her shoulder in an instant, eyes darting over the alert. His ambient light had juiced way up again. His hair fluttered faster than its typical antigravity flow, more like he was standing in a storm. 

“Crap. I gotta go.” 

He turned to Paulina, and before she could even process anything that was happening, he was holding her shoulders and looking her up and down. He zipped the hoodie up halfway on her, like a parent sending his five-year-old kid going out in the snow—and then he pinched a wrinkle of the rubber on her thigh and pulled. Like a tablecloth in the hands of an expert magician, his black suit snapped through the air. It had come off right through her and everything else she was wearing. 

She gasped and pulled the bottom hem of the hoodie down over her bare thighs. It was long enough—barely! 

“Sorry, gonna need this. And the rest of my suit, please.” 

She stared for a whole dumbfounded second or two as he and the suit disappeared. Her pajamas and bathrobe fluttered to the floor in a heap. The seemingly empty air beside her rustled. What the heck? 

She kicked off his boots, and he returned to visibility to slip them on. His intangible hand dipped through the hoodie to claim his belt with the ghost thermos off her waist, and by then, she’d managed to get her shaking fingers out of his gloves. 

“Dare you all to have a safe night of wholesome entertainment,” he grinned. “Is it okay if I drop by later tonight for my stuff?” 

“Of course,” Paulina breathed. “Be safe out there. Please.” 

He saluted, crouched down like a bunched-up spring, and then he was gone.

— — ⬤

The party stayed up a little later to stalk the news and instagram feeds for any updates on the fight, but as usual, it moved through town too rapidly to follow. Ghosts didn’t video or photograph well, either—Phantom was kind of oddly photogenic, both because he was gorgeous and in a literal sense. A lot of his enemies didn’t show up at all or looked super glitchy and blurry without special equipment, especially the animalistic ones. That was part of his bad rep, of course; people who only knew him from the news couldn’t always see what he was up against and a lot of times, he was blamed for damages that just couldn’t be his fault. 

Dash left at around five, and the girls stayed up a little later so Paulina could change back into her PJ’s and clean up Phantom’s stuff. She found his crumpled up papers in her bathrobe pocket and tucked them in with his big bag of gifts. Star blew out the candles, and everyone snuggled down into their sleeping bags. While the girls chit-chatted, relived the evening, and slowly began to nod off, Paulina took a few notes in her diary of some of the extremely important things she’d learned about his likes and dislikes, and a couple questions she wished she’d had time to ask. Like… did he have a phone? And could she have his number? 

Why was he so kind? That was what had drawn her to him in the first place. Well—maybe she would’ve still crushed on him without it, and maybe not; it was too late to tell, now that she was in this deep. But she hadn’t always been into superheroes and the white-haired anime boys. She hadn’t really even known her type before she met him! These days, the guys on TV and fashion magazines that were dreamy were only dreamy because they kinda-sorta had his cheekbones, or a smirk that reminded her of his bravado in battle, or whatever. The truth was, she’d been a goner ever since the day he’d first saved her life, a little over a year ago. 

Now, after spending more time with him in one night than the whole past year put together, her obsession was more real than ever. It was already crazy that he went to so much trouble for a whole town of nobodies when he didn’t have to. He wasn’t getting paid for it or anything. A lot of people didn’t even like him! That was already upside-down thinking from everything she knew! But… he was just… crazy thoughtful. He was honestly really nice when they kidnapped him, even though—in hindsight—she’d been pretty selfish to ignore how tired or busy he might’ve been. He hadn’t gotten mad with them when they’d been insensitive about the thing with his body. He didn’t even hate the Fentons—or want anyone else to hate the Fentons, apparently—which was, like, super weird. But in a wholesome way. It was so weirdly forgiving. He just cared so much? Like… he had so much love for people who didn’t love him, and he didn’t expect to get anything back for it. 

And then. He’d made sure she was covered before taking back his suit. The sweetness of the gesture filled her up with ghostly butterflies that made her shiver. He cared enough about the town to drop everything and run, but even then, he’d spared those precious few seconds to keep her from getting embarrassed. 

I love you, Phantom. She hugged her diary to her chest and sniffed, and in the surreal, weary darkness with no one to see, a single, impassioned tear ran down her cheek. No matter what. Even if we can’t ever be together or I never see you again. I’ll love you forever. 

Then, just as her thoughts began to comfortably fade into the white noise of sleep, a chill crept over the room. It was like a dream. She was almost too asleep to care, until something brushed her ear. 

She gasped, swatting with the primal fear of spiders in her hair. Her hand connected with something cool and solid that she couldn’t see, and she snatched her arm back just as quickly, shocked. 

“Sorry,” Phantom’s voice whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Just thought you might want your hair clip back.” 

“Phantom!” She whispered groggily, smiling in the direction of his voice. “Hi! Sorry. And, um, thanks. Are you okay?” 

He huffed a tiny whisper laugh. “Yeah. You hit like a girl.” 

“No? I meant from the fight!” She stuck her tongue out. 

“Sure. Big blob monsters hit like girls, too. Actually, they mostly miss, so technically I think you’re ahead.” 

She covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “I’m glad you woke me, it was nice to see you again. Or… I dunno, hear you, I guess. Hit you. By accident.” 

Would’ve been nice to see his face, so she could tell if he thought she sounded as stupid as she did. 

“Did you get all your stuff?” 

“Eh, I think so. Hey, thanks again for the gifts, and for putting this together. Your invitations could use some work, but the party was fun.” 

“I’ll work on that for next time. Thanks for coming. Thanks for—everything,” she whispered. 

“Sure.” 

Someone rolled over and moaned softly. 

“Phantom—” He was gonna leave! “Will I see you again?” 

“Yeah? I’m never very far away,” he quipped mysteriously. 

Sure—he got in fights in the school building or the mall, he’d swept her out of the path of danger a few times. That wasn’t what she meant… but maybe, after tonight, it’d be different. 

“Good night, Paulina,” he whispered, and although he didn’t make a sound or a breeze, something in the pressure of the room shifted. 

“Good night,” she whispered back, fingering her lopsided hair clip. The room thawed, and he was gone.