Plato and Aristotle believed that the stars were entirely different from the four earthly elements: aether, or spirit, the material that fills the earth beyond the terrestrial sphere. The astral plane is the world of celestial spheres, crossed by the soul on the way to being born, or after death. It’s believed to be populated with angels, souls, immaterial beings, which some people have witnessed during a near-death experience. The living can’t access it, and the dead can’t leave.

You don’t have to believe in ghosts. But if you don’t, you’ll never see them.

“How do you have green eyes if you’re black? Black people can’t have green eyes.”

It’s snowing. There’s a white woman staring at Rio from across the parking lot, with a child next to her. Though he’s always in the mood to socialize, some days he lacks the energy to educate other adults. People enjoy believing what they want, and live life serving their own ego. Rio has seen his parents talk kindly to unkind people. He shrugs. “Anyone can have green eyes. Genetics are weird.” His father was born in Cameroon. There’s no telling where his ancestors came from before this.

“Don’t worry, I don’t see color,” says the woman, holding the child’s hand a little too tightly for this to be believable. “My neighbor is black, and I hang out with her all the time.”

Rio was taught how to handle microaggressions from the time he was old enough to experience them. It rarely makes a difference. Most of the time he doesn’t bother with a response - because people don’t like to be told they’re wrong, and people believe what they want. Some people try very hard to be supportive, and just don’t know how. When he was growing up, his fathers would spend hours cooking and preparing school lunches, until the whole house smelled like cinnamon and spice. He’d eat things like rasam and ndole for lunch, never minding the looks he got from other students. There’s no such thing as bad publicity, as they say. Sage would disagree.

He’s been vegetarian for six years. It saves money, and it eases his conscience. After a while, you don’t even remember what animals taste like.

Every year at Yule, Rio meets with the coven. This year, he has plans to return home. The Wheel of The Year revolves around the Horned God and the Triple Goddess. The God is born from the Goddess at Yule, grows powerful during spring solstice, courts and impregnates the Goddess at Beltane, wanes in power at Lammas, and passes into the underworld during Samhain, only to be reborn when Yule comes around again. Growing up, Rio helped hang holly and mistletoe each year at Yule. His parents, after choosing a tree, would cleanse and bless it before adding decorations. For the four years she was alive, Cassia was in charge of placing a star on the tree’s highest branch.

Two months after the accident, Ivo prepares to start outpatient physiotherapy. He’s stressed about medical bills, and refuses to cooperate with the nurses. “Ivo,” says Rio, sitting uncomfortably on a chair next to his bed, “they saved your life.”

Most people would be appreciative of this. Ivo grumbles, sitting up straight against his fluffed up pillows. “Who says I wanted to be saved?”

“Would you rather be left to die?”

Ivo wore a neck brace for only a short time, after recovering from spinal surgery. He’s been sleeping like shit, but recently regained feeling and sensation in his legs. He complains of being in pain: a burning or stabbing pain that hasn’t seemed to disappear since the accident. Sometimes, he loses his balance during walks, or drops objects due to muscle weakness in his fingers. Some days, he doesn’t seem to care what the nurses do to him. Others, he refuses to cooperate at all. “Why does it matter? We’re all going to die anyway.”

Most people are afraid of death. In the year following Cassia’s death, Rio had dreams about growing old, and became too afraid to go to sleep. Believing in reincarnation takes a lot of fear out of dying. Ivo’s always been a bit of a nihilist. He’s pretty. Rio has never seen anyone near as pretty. “I think you’ve been reincarnated one too many times, Four-Eyes. You’re an eighty year old man in spirit.”

Guinea pigs, generally, live six to eight years as pets. When he and Sage were younger, they had several of them: two females and a neutered male, all housed in the same cage. Rio was never very good at keeping things alive. His parents believed pets were important because they taught children responsibility. Out of the two of them, Sage is the responsible one. Rio wouldn't mind having a dog. Sage prefers animals to people.

Rio had his first gay experience at senior prom, which seems very cliché. In high school, he still thought he was straight, and so did the rest of his family. He went to prom with a girl named Annie, who was a junior, and ditched him halfway through the night. He was fine with this, though; he had a lot of friends in high school. After the dance, he’d gone out to the home of one of his basketball teammates, and they’d had some drinks, and Rio’s teammate Ian had begun to flirt with him. He wasn’t opposed to this. For a guy who thought he was straight, Rio sure found a lot of men hot.

They’d stayed out late that night, drinking and chatting, and discussing their plans for college. After hours of socializing, when it was very late, he’d hooked up with Ian in the bathroom, and he enjoyed it. The event was sort of a turning point for Rio. His first year of college, he thrived in this, experimenting with men and women alike – and maybe both at once. He supposes he has Ian to thank. It’s sort of sad, actually; after all that, they don’t even speak anymore.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Every new moon, it’s good to cleanse your living area, especially if you’ve just moved in. In a new environment, you can’t be sure what kind of energies exist there, or what kinds of people resided there before. Every new moon, Rio cleanses his living space with smudging sticks and incense, to remove negative energy, and wash it out the window. Sage smudging has roots in Native American culture, in which it would be used to cleanse auras and environments, and called on the spirits to restore balance. Rio doesn’t often use sage to smudge his area. He always was quite partial to the smell of lavender.

Before bed, Ivo takes a bath. This helps him relax, and makes him more comfortable before he goes to sleep, but he refuses to let the nurses do it, and demands that Rio assist him. Ivo says he can’t tell how warm the water is. He turned the water on too hot, and didn’t feel it burning.

Who is this guy, and what has he done to you?

Sage asked the question, but it’s something Rio has asked himself on more than one occasion.

Ivo looks abandoned. He closes his eyes, letting his head fall onto the wall behind him. “Why are you even here, Rio?”

This is an unexpected question. Ivo sets his hands onto his lap, making ripples in the water. He’s been in the hospital for nearly three months, and goes to physiotherapy next week. Although he still possesses the ability to walk and complete daily tasks, he’s become clumsy and slow, and needs help with things like taking lids off bottles and writing his name. “You asked me to come help you bathe. Do you not want that anymore?” Rio stands to leave, and Ivo sighs loudly.

“No, why are you here at all?” He speaks flatly. He’s been in the hospital too long. “Why would you waste your time taking care of me, like I’m some sort of fucking baby? Go play a sport, or something.” He’s very still. His eyes are closed, tightly, avoiding Rio. He feels depressed in waves, and some days are worse than others. He’s so different now, than he was before. Maybe someday, this will change. Maybe someday, he’ll be back to his familiar, grumpy self.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

It’s hot in the bathroom. No one else is in the room. The boy snorts, and rolls his eyes. “Just answer the question, dipshit. We all know you fuck off as soon as you get tired of someone. Do you feel sorry for me, or something?”

He isn’t wrong, but the words sting. People can change. Rio thinks he’s changed most of all. It’s a simple answer, but it doesn’t seem like him. “Feeling sorry for you won’t change anything. You’re still an asshole, you know.”

In the bathtub, Ivo’s leg twitches. It does this quite a bit. He presses down on it, frowning, tired. “You’re still an arrogant bitch who doesn’t know how to answer a simple question.” Rio isn’t sure why he’s so badly in need of a reason. Some things don’t have an answer. But he sighs, and looks at him. It’s so obvious. He’d have to be stupid not to know.

“Because I fucking love you, dumbass!”

He’s yelled. He didn’t mean to yell. “I’m in love with you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Ivo says nothing: just stares at him with his pale, beautiful eyes. “You’re an idiot, Four-Eyes.” It’s easy to tell, he thinks, when someone loves you. Half the time, they don’t even have to say it. Ivo looks sad. He looks this way most of the time. Rio isn’t one to wonder if people love him, and doesn’t expect Ivo to return the sentiment. In the past, he’s wondered whether Ivo was capable of love at all. After a moment of silence, during which the boys stare at one another, he stares at the water.

“Now there’s something I’ve never heard before. Congratulations, dipshit, you’ve finally thought of something original to say.” Ivo is a lot of things - but he’s never boring. His bath water is starting to get cold. He touches Rio’s face with very cold hands, leaving his skin warm and tingling. Being touched by someone else shouldn’t make him feel tingly. “You really have lost your mind, haven’t you?”

There’s really no telling where Ivo will end up once he leaves the hospital. He lives in a home with stairs and very narrow hallways, and stumbles when trying to turn corners. “Did I ever tell you why we left Florida?” He hasn’t. He rarely speaks about it to others. Visiting hours are almost over.

“No.”

Sometimes, Rio sees beautiful things in nature and thinks about Cassia. She’s a yellow flower, blooming in the sun underneath a blue sky. She’s a white swan, following a fish through the water on a cloudy day. Speaking about trauma becomes easier with time. “There was a home invasion when I was eleven. These two men broke into the house and pointed guns at us.” It was close to Yule that day, and still very hot. For the first twelve years of his life, Rio only ever saw snow on television. “I’m the oldest, and my parents were still asleep, so I took my dad’s gun and shot at the intruders, and one of them picked up my four year old sister to use as a shield.”

It’s been far too long since the incident has been spoken about out loud. It still makes Rio feel guilty and emotional. Most people are not fond of vulnerability. He never knows how Ivo will react to serious topics. When you tell someone you lost a sibling, they all want to know how the child died, and it feels rather intrusive. They should ask about what she liked, they should ask about Rio’s favorite memories, but all they care about is how she died. Cassia loved to draw, and to sing, and listen to fairy tales. No one ever cares about this.

Ivo looks at him for a very long time. Most people would apologize, they’re sorry for his loss, but Ivo doesn’t say this. Instead, he shrugs before looking away.

“How come you never told me about that?”

Even the most hardened people have the potential to be vulnerable if given the opportunity. He shrugs, knowing it’s nearly time to head home. “Same reason you never told me about your father’s overdose.” There’s no reason he should know this. He hears things about Ivo from Sage, who hears them from Aspen. “Logically, you know it’s not your fault they died, but it’s still hard not to blame yourself.”

“Fuck that.” Ivo speaks much slower than he used to. “That man was not my father. I’m glad he’s dead.”

In the hallway of the hospital, there’s a large holiday tree. Visitors bring gifts and treats to loved ones who won’t be home for Christmas. Nobody deserves to spend the holidays alone. When he was younger, he’d go with his parents every year to bring food or blankets to the homeless. This is something he hasn’t done in a while. This year, Sage promised to accompany him. Years ago, Cassia came too. She was a little girl who loved to make other people smile, and Rio admired her for this. This was something he never told her. Most humans don’t appreciate one another until they’re no longer here to appreciate.