It was a tall order to get me to come home on time. Dark fields, shadowed from the last lights of the city. The smell of far off barbeques and faint vrooming cars. That was the life for me. Another cricket chirped as I tiptoed forward. Leaves crunched under my feet.

My mom would be worried sick for me, but I'd be home in bed before they realized I was missing. If I didn't say hi to the man, who would?

A gravestone, only a few inches high, marked the body of a man who apparently was best left alone. The weeds took hold of him, and their thick tangly veins showed that no one even bothered to clear his name.

I sat down and took off my book bag, letting the dead ground muddy my bare knees. So much junk in that book bag. I rummaged to the fabric bottom as I felt for the stuffed bear.

Yes!

I had the bear. Now to dig.

And no, I wasn't digging up a body. Not technically. I scooped up some dirt and tossed it. Underneath that splotch, sat wood. Rotten wood. It was a really shallow grave. I brushed some soil around until I found the end of the casket. I clutched it, straining my arms, and lunged the door open.

My face grew hot as I held my chest. The man, er, body laid there, skin torn like a cat's claws on paper. Black hair thin as cobwebs, and wooly clothes as drab as his eternally droopy face.

I shook him awake.

"Sir, wake up!" I whispered. A beetle crawled from his shirt onto my finger.

Nothing.

Lazy.

I picked up the stuffed bear and held it above him. The aroma of dust and dead ants filled the air.

"Look, I got you the bear!" I shook it a bit.

The body's eyelids twitched. A sense of peace fell over me as just me became us. His eyelids opened, and from the back of his head did his eyes roll. His dead, drywall eyes fell on me with an apathetic gaze, and his gaping black pupils stared up at me. They watched as I crawled closer, chills running though my arms.

I couldn't help but smile. His eyes opened, and he hacked like an old car.

"At this hour?" his gravelly voice grumbled. The scent of cigarette smoke left his mouth.

I frowned.

"You know I have school in the morning."

"All the way 'til sunset?" he said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Well, no. But I have homework and dinner and-"

"Shush, kid," he said.

Rude. He was grumpy now, but I had an ace up my sleeve. It would be my ticket that night. I held out the bear again.

"Look."

The man sat up. The bear stood right there in his scrappy face as his eyes adjusted to the minimal light that was there. And they widened.

"Oh…" he mumbled softly.

Something about his shoulders, the way they relaxed, the way his eyes softened at the sight of the pink ball of polyester. The chirps of crickets whistled through the grass, through the air, leaving us in a loud silence.

His boney fingers wrapped around the little teddy bear. He loved it.

"I'm… all out of allowance." I pulled out my pockets.

"Save your money next time."

He caressed the bear on its fluffy head. It finally took a rest next to the man as set it down.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"So, whaddya need help with?"

He was allergic to saying thank you's. But I knew he appreciated it.

I hooked my pointer fingers as I squirmed in my seat. It was hard enough to pay the price for his friendship, but it was always bone-shivering to tell him what I wanted. The words hung in my throat and I couldn't let them go.

"What, you can’t talk? What’s the matter?"

"Will you help me with my Spanish homework?"

He sat back, his rigid posture returning in full force. His brows furrowed.

"You came all the way here in the middle of the night just to tell me that?"

I clasped my hands together.

"Come on! My house is only a quarter mile away. I left my window open so we could sneak in."

"But your mom'll hear us talking."

"Then we'll whisper."

I couldn't take no for an answer that night. The man squinted and studied the grass, as if waiting for the blades to give him the answer.

He signed.

"Fine. Help me outta here, will ya?"

It worked!

I held him under his arms as he pushed himself out of the casket. Dust fell from his patchy coat, narrowly missing the teddy bear and me. In minutes, he was finally up.

His lanky stature towered over me, with his bones settling into place and his knees crackling under the weight of them all. How different we were…

He fixed up his coat buttons.

"Okay," he mumbled, "where are we going?"

"My house."

"I know where. I meant how."

I rolled my eyes. Thank god it was him though. I'd sooner disrespect the dead than my mom.

The city lights illuminated the sky. But the quaint yellow light of my neighborhood windows outshined it in every way. I gestured to the man to follow me as I picked up my bookbag. He knocked the casket closed, and we made our way to my house.

Sneaking in isn't as easy as the movies make it appear.

"Push harder!" the man whispered.

"I can't!"

The window pane dug into my ribcage as I lay stuck halfway through the window. The man had grabbed hold of my legs, trying to jostle me through. Just one more push. Because my lungs couldn't take another beating.

He pushed me, and I fell to the carpet floor.

Ow.

My friend wriggled himself inside no problem. His color clashed against my bright orange walls, and the rest of my room for that matter. Almost like a black hole.

"Your room looks like Skittles."

"Your room is a casket."

He rolled his eyes back at me.

The smell of melting sour candy permeated through the colorful jungle of trash that was my room. My unfinished homework was scattered across the bedcovers, paired with eraser bits everywhere. I plopped onto the bed.

The man crossed his arms.

"You want me to sit on that?"

"Before we do that, what should I call you?"

He blinked.

"W-what?"

"Your name. What is it? Your gravestone is kinda messy so I never caught it."

He'd be sweating if his glands were working. He darted his gaze across the bed as he came to. His hands shivered as he picked up a worksheet.

"How's about that Spanish, huh-"

"¿Cómo te llamas?" I said beaming.

You're not dodging this question.

His gaze fell. So did his shoulders and posture as he held the paper in both hands. His arms fell to his sides. Maybe I shouldn't have asked.

He exhaled as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Look…" he said quietly, "I'm not comfortable with telling you that, okay? It's nothing personal just…"

His words faded. I scooted back and hooked my fingers again.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Um… but why don't we come up with a name?"

I lifted my head. Come up with a name? I looked around my room for answers, but if you knew me, that was hopeless. My dog's name when I was ten was John. Can you guess what I named my hamster a few years later?

"John…?" I smiled nervously. He raised an eyebrow.

That's the best I could've done.

As the night flew by, and the sky became its darkest, me and 'John' fell deep into our studies. Mine anyway. He probably finished Spanish class like, thirty years ago. But it would take thirty years longer for me to get to any type of conversational fluency.

But finishing my Spanish homework was good enough for now. John pointed at the last question. Multiple choice.

"Which one means apple?" he said quietly.

My eyelids were heavy, and so became my entire body. I yawned. The answers were clear as day on the paper, but they slurred in my head.

"The um… mañana."

John circled option B.

"Manzana."

"I knew that," I said as I yawned again.

John set the paper and pencil down behind him. Homework time was over. His coat, still patchy from the casket, seemed so comfortable now, that I wanted to sleep on it.

John stood up and stretched.

"Well, that's my sign to go. You did good. And you said you needed help."

"Don't go. I have so many things… I wanna do."

"Nah. It's risky just being here. I can’t stay the night too."

I rubbed my eyes as he stood there. He was right. No matter how much my heart pleaded, and how much I begged for him to stay, it wasn't possible.

My stomach churned. Would I have the time to see him tomorrow? Did I need to buy him something again? If he stayed the night, would he stay tomorrow?

John cocked his head, trying to make eye contact.

"Why don't you invite a friend over tomorrow. Your mom won't be scared of them."

"I did. And my mom would be terrified if she ever saw you."

John scratched his head. I'll admit, I laid it on heavy. My body was an energy-deficient blob ready to shut down at any point, and in the back of my head, I knew what we were supposed to do. I swiped the worksheets off of the bed, letting them fly to the floor.

"Goodnight, John."

He came closer, crackling about as he did. He scruffied my hair.

"Goodnight, kid."

My covers were warm as they slipped over me, with my head sinking into the pillow, drowning in its cotton hills. The lights cut out, and as the ceiling merged with the black sky outside, John stepped in front of the window. Staring back at me.

I closed my eyes.

And they opened. The sun had replaced the stars with its orange morning glow. No dream that night. No interruptions.

And no John. Us was just me once again.