Chapter 25
Khalee
“Don’t you dare…” Kaze warns me as I walk away, scrolling on my phone while placing the burger order.
“Oh, you’ll love it. What could go wrong?”
“If there’s bacon on mine, I’m not eating it.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“For fuck’s sake, can’t you just honor a dead man’s last wish? I asked for a burger, not a personal attack.”
“Oh, come on, K. A burger with bacon is just the best kind of burger.”
“For you. And for people with no moral compass.”
I roll my eyes, biting back a grin as I finalize the order.
“If I had a dollar for every time you whined about something, I could afford a lifetime supply of bacon burgers just to spite you.”
“And I’d haunt every delivery guy you ever called, don’t test me.”
We’ve been like this since I got home, and honestly, it’s the therapy I didn’t realize I needed.
The last few days have been so tense that, even though I know we need to talk, I just want to have a night.
A night not to bother.
A night not to think.
A night to have fun.
So, no talk tonight.
He’s solid, we’re doing well, and it’s been so good just to enjoy his company that I don’t want this to ever end.
And sure, my heart wants more, wants to reach out, grab him, touch him, kiss him.
But tonight, that’s not the part of me I’m feeding.
Tonight, I’m not just enjoying the presence of my love; I’m basking in the presence of my best friend.
Because as much as my heart bled for the man I realized I loved when he disappeared, it bled even more for the best friend I never got to have again.
And I won’t resist that blessing. Not tonight.
Kaze flops onto the couch with an exaggerated groan, yanking me out of my thoughts.
“So, when’s my impending doom arriving?”
I smirk. “Thirty minutes. That’s how long you have to accept your fate.”
He sighs heavily. “Thirty minutes to write my will. I leave my sarcasm to the world and my suffering to you.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Oh, come on. One bite won’t kill you.”
He deadpans. “I am literally already dead.”
“Not right now, you’re not. You look pretty damn alive to me.” I try to sound casual, but my gaze betrays me. Because while Kaze is decent enough in his usual ghostly form, when he’s solid like this… he’s something else entirely.
The usual blur clinging to him when he’s half-there is gone, revealing sharp features, the strong cut of his jaw, the way his dark blonde hair falls in an artful mess over his forehead. And, God help me, the light in his green eyes, flickering every time he looks at me.
He doesn’t belong in the spaces between life and death. Not like this. Not when he looks like he was always meant to be here.
And I know I shouldn’t stare. Shouldn’t pretend this is real.
But it’s hard not to.
He flexes his fingers absently, testing the wholeness of his hand. “Let’s see how long it lasts.”
I tilt my head, curiosity buzzing in my chest. “Do you think there’s a reason for this? Not to mess up the vibes or anything, but… maybe something’s pushing you into this state?”
His brows furrow. For a moment, he seems to actually consider it.
“I don’t know,” he admits, voice quieter now. “But ever since I found you, things have been getting weirder.”
He shifts, hesitating, and I can see him trying to decide how much to say.
“Weirder how?” I prompt, moving to sit beside him on the couch.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I slept last night.”
I blink. “I noticed. You were out cold when I left this morning.”
“Yeah, well, let’s just say that hasn’t happened in a long time. And besides that… I had a dream.”
“About what? A memory?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t seem like it.”
And then he tells me everything.
As he speaks, his voice slows, like he’s replaying it in his mind, trying to make sense of it. His expression flickers between frustration and something else, something like unease. And for a moment, I wonder if he’s scared of what it could mean.
“It felt like something else entirely,” he finally says, meeting my eyes.
I chew my lip, considering his words. “And you didn’t recognize anything? Not a single detail?”
He exhales sharply. “No. And that’s what bothers me. It wasn’t a memory, not one I can recall, anyway, but it didn’t feel like just some random dream either. It felt… significant. Like something was trying to tell me something.”
A strange shiver crawls down my spine because, as he describes it, something inside me stirs. Something eerily familiar.
I hesitate, not sure if I even want to say it. But I do anyway.
“That’s weird, because… I think I had a similar dream.”
His eyes snap to mine. “What?”
I shake my head, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “I don’t remember much. It’s like trying to hold onto fog, but when you started talking about it, I had this… feeling. Like I’ve been there too. I just can’t place when or how.”
His expression hardens, the gears in his mind turning. “You’re saying we had the same dream?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. I think it was before we… met. So maybe it’s not related. But dreams can be foretelling sometimes, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dreamt about something that ended up being connected to my future. But… I don’t know.”
Kaze leans back, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Well, me neither. I’m confused about how much I actually know.
And as much as I want you to help me remember, to find some kind of peace, to be honest with you?
” He exhales, eyes flickering away. “The more I remember, the more afraid I am of unraveling the rest of my life.”
His voice dips lower, the reluctance settling in his tone. “Don’t get me wrong, but at this point? I don’t think I was a particularly good person.”
My breath catches for just a second, but I recover quickly, forcing an easy expression even though his words twist something sharp inside me.
He doesn’t know.
He has no idea who he was to me. Who he was in life.
And I don’t tell him. How could I?
How could I look him in the eyes and say I don’t know who he was, but I’m sure that, to me, he was the best? That even in the loneliest of nights, it was his light, his warmth, his presence, even from a distance, that kept me breathing?
So instead, I just smile softly and nudge his shoulder. “Making mistakes doesn’t make you a bad person. It just makes you human. And you were human, so… don’t be too hard on yourself.”
He exhales a sad laugh, shaking his head. “What if I end up discovering I was a serial killer?”
I snort. “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for a bacon-loaded burger if that were the case.
According to all the books we read, ghosts tend to stick to what they were obsessed with in life.
If you were all about killing, you’d probably be attached to some psychopath instead of me. ”
He tilts his head, considering. “Yeah… no serial killer then. But clearly, a junkie.”
I freeze.
The words hang between us, sharp and unrelenting, cutting through something I wasn’t ready to confront.
Because I can’t deny it.
Not after finding out why he was staying at Patrick’s house. Not after hearing him say, in his own voice, how he used to satisfy his needs.
My throat tightens. My tongue feels like sand.
Was I so enamored by him, so eager to finally meet him that night, that I missed the signs?
My mind spins back to that moment, dragging me under—the anticipation thrumming through my veins. The sheer joy bubbling in my chest at the thought of seeing him. I reach for the memory, desperate, searching for something I should have noticed. A clue. A hint. But I don’t find it.
All I see is light, his light.
Laughter, warmth, and companionship.
The way he made me feel safe, even in the chaos of everything around us.
The way his presence filled a space inside me, I never realized was empty until he was there.
The glow I saw in him that night, the night I saw him for the first time, is nothing like the hollow emptiness I saw in Mada today. And yet… years have passed.
People change. Addictions change them more.
And suddenly, I’m not sure anymore.
Maybe I never was.
“Don’t search for excuses, love.” His voice is quieter now, almost resigned. “The more I remember, the more I realize I didn’t go to the best places or make the best decisions. That probably explains why I died early.”
Then, he tells me about the memory, about the music shop, about why he ended up ‘selling’ his guitar, and the chain of events that he thinks led to his death.
As he speaks, realization crashes into me, and I swallow hard, forcing my expression to stay neutral even as something inside me clenches painfully.
He punched Patrick after having dinner with me.
Could that be the reason everything spiraled the way it did?
Was he selling to those bastards?
Jesus Christ, my head hurts.
“We don’t know when you died. It may have only been last year.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and the second they do, a different kind of ache settles deep in my chest.
Because if that’s true, it means he left me by choice.
That he was alive long after I thought he had disappeared.
That he could have come back, for the guitar, for me, but he didn’t.
I look at him carefully now, and something unnerves me.
He doesn’t seem twenty anymore.
It’s almost as if he had aged, as if his body had shifted subtly.
But that doesn’t make sense.
Not unless he died later.
And if that’s not the truth, if he died only days after that night, then the pain is something else entirely. Something sharper.
Because that means he was gone before I even had a chance to search for him.
That I never even knew how to grieve him properly. And worse,
It means we probably know his killers.
Solving Kaze’s mystery isn’t just about understanding his death anymore. It’s about putting those motherfuckers away for good.
Two possibilities.
Two different heartbreaks.
And I have no idea which one will destroy me more when I find out the truth.
The bell rings, and I hurry to grab the burgers and tip the delivery guy while my mind starts working on solutions.
Tonight, we’ll have fun.
Tomorrow we’ll start plotting.