(Context: Ren is a ghost, normally; Blake is human, normally; Blake did a spell to switch places for a couple of hours. While Ren can't see or hear Blake, they can always touch. Also this is a very liberal interpretation of "line.")
He's outside the restaurant, crouched in the grass and tearing up stalks, like he wants to destroy something and that was the most harmless thing he could find.
"Are you here?" he asks.
"Yeah."
He seems to know, even though he can't see, hear, or sense me. "I'm sorry, Blake. I'm sorry. This is amazing, but...it's not enough time. I don't have enough time."
"I know," I say quietly.
He pushes himself up and kicks at the grass. "I didn't have enough time! It was stolen from me! I wasn't supposed to die! I was supposed to have more time!"
"I know, Ren.” This tantrum's seventy-something years in the making — or at least several months, since he learned how he died — and he's probably due it, but I take his hand and unclench it from around the grass, which falls through my fingers to the ground. "I know," I whisper. "I know."
He pulls me into him and somehow finds my shoulder to cry into. "It isn't fair. I was supposed to have more time."
He tears up sometimes, but I've never heard him cry like he's lost something. Even when Gram died, he put on his bravest face. Now he cries like someone he loves has died.
"Being human is hard." I lift his face and wipe away his tears. I really can't stand to see him bawl anymore.
"Being human is so hard," he says.
I freeze.
"Did you hear me?"
He lets go, and I float back from him. He rubs at his face until the tears are gone, but keeps sniffling. "I left Joy in there. I'd be a pretty bad boyfriend, wouldn't I?"
“I think Gram would have some things to say about that."
"You're supposed to say 'your face would be a pretty bad boyfriend.' Sheesh, you're bad at this ghost stuff."