Cemetery Boys(65)

Yadriel scrubbed his hands down his face. “You’re impossible!” he said, laughter jumping in his chest. He tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

“I kind of made a mess of things, huh?” Yadriel said. He wasn’t fishing for sympathy, just stating the obvious. Keeping secrets from his family. Putting his foot in his mouth on more than one occasion. Completely botching the conversation with Julian’s friends. More sneaking, more lies. He was in over his head.

“Yeah,” Julian agreed very matter-of-factly, not malicious or even teasing. “But now your mess is my mess, too.” He tilted his head toward Yadriel and spoke softly. “It’s bound to be easier if we’re both cleaning it up, right?”

The dimples of his tired smile made Yadriel light-headed.

For the first time in a very long time, he didn’t feel like a lost cause. It was nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff. He had his tío and Maritza, of course, but there were still degrees of separation between their experiences. When he came out, there was a lot of legwork and explaining to his tío and Maritza about who he was. It took time and a lot of emotional work on Yadriel’s part.

But with Julian, there was no training involved because he already understood him. It was … easy. Yadriel hadn’t known it could be that painless and simple for someone to see him as he was.

For a moment, they both lay there, quiet laughter mingling with the soft music playing from the iPhone.

Julian let out a heavy, annoyed sigh. “So, I guess I give in.”

“Give in to what?”

“We can go see Rio tomorrow.”

Yadriel turned to look at him. He didn’t look very pleased. “Really?”

“Only to see if he knows anything, if the cops called him or whatever, and to grab one of my shirts,” Julian said firmly. “And just to…” He trailed off. “I don’t know. Just to make sure he’s okay, before I leave.”

Those last few words halted Yadriel’s thoughts.

Before he left.

That’s right. This was all so Yadriel could release Julian to the afterlife. Where he would stay, because Julian was just a normal boy. When he crossed over, that would be that. He wasn’t a brujo. There would be no ofrenda to welcome him back during Día de Muertos. For Julian, death was finite. When his dad died, he didn’t get to see him again. And now, Julian’s friends and his brother would never see him again, either.

“All things considered,” Yadriel ventured, “you’re taking this whole being-dead thing pretty well.”

Julian exhaled a small laugh. “I don’t know, I never expected to live that long, anyways,” he confessed.

Yadriel didn’t know what to say. There was something so profoundly sad in how casually he said it.

“But I was thinking more like thirty, never really pictured myself older than that,” he explained. “Sixteen minus a couple weeks seems a bit young.” His lips tilted into a crooked smile. “The ghost part was definitely a surprise.” Julian rolled onto his side, propping the side of his face in his hand. “Can I possess you?”

A surprised laugh bucked in Yadriel chest. “No. You’re thinking demons.”

“I mean, it’s getting closer to Día de Muertos, right? You said us dead folks get stronger around then.” Julian leaned over him, eyes narrowed, his face only a few inches away.

Yadriel could see the faint shadow along his jaw. There was a tiny scar on his right eyebrow.

“If I concentrate really hard…” His finger hovered above Yadriel. “Could I touch you?”

Heat flooded Yadriel’s face. His chest fluttered dangerously. “I don’t think so, Jules.” A shaky laugh quaked his words.

Dimples cut deep into Julian’s cheeks. He tipped his head to the side. “Why not?”

“Not enough brainpower.”

Julian’s laugh was open and unabashed. “Ssh, stop!” he ordered through his chuckles. “I’m concentrating!”

He shook out his hand before hovering it over Yadriel again. Julian’s face scrunched up, lips parted.

Yadriel held his breath. His fingers knotted into the blanket under him. A thrill tickled down his spine to the tips of his toes. It was disorienting, filling his head with dangerous thoughts. He wanted to feel Julian’s hands ghosting over his skin. Wondered what Julian’s short hair would feel like under his fingertips, what his skin would smell like, or if his lips felt as soft as they looked.

But it was silly and stupid, because you couldn’t touch dead boys, and they couldn’t touch you back.

Julian lowered his hand, and for a moment, nothing happened.

“See?” Yadriel exhaled. The yearning ache devoured the hope in his chest. “You—”

But then he felt it. The shiver of the medal against his throat. The brush of an—admittedly, cold—finger across his skin.

Yadriel sucked in a gasp and clamped his hand over his neck.

Julian jerked back. “Did you feel it?” he asked, eyes wide.

“I did!”

“Yes!” Julian’s smile was brilliant.

They both broke out into laughter. The fluttery, half-delirious sort that made Yadriel feel a little drunk.

“See?” Julian jutted his chin to a proud angle.