Miles Apart - Sam Kiszka x OC fanfic

Miles Apart Sequel: TEASER

The sequel will be called "Close." It takes place five years in the future, following Jake's absence and Sam and Arabella's marriage. Here's a little taste for ya :)))
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"Jake..." I whisper, blinking hard, trying to figure out if it really was him this time.

He offers a small wave, his boney wrist highlighting just how small he'd gotten. Plum circles around his eyes, his skin void of colour; he wasn't the Jake I remembered.

A ghost of him, maybe.

"Sam," I yelp, running behind Father Hiram to get to the other side of the stage, trying not to draw attention away from Josh and Izzy.

"Sam!" I say again, grabbing onto his arm as tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

"Jesus, Bella," he laughs, placing a hand on my lower back to stabilize me, his smile dropping as his eyes settle on me, "Wow, wait. What's wrong, baby girl?"

"Jake," I cry, "he's here."

Sam snaps his head up following my eye line but quickly snaps his eyes back to mine.

"There's no one there, Bel," he sighs, rubbing his palm over his tired eyes.

"No, please. He was right there," I inhale shakily, seeing that there was indeed no one there.

"Bel, I love you, but you have to drop this Jake thing. He's not coming ba-"

"I'm not crazy," I huff before running off the stage, straight out the door behind the pillar the ghost of the boy I longed to see was standing at.

"Jake!" my cry echoes through the hall, "Jake, please."

As per usual, no response.

I sink to the ground, letting my head fall into my hands as I sob.

"Maybe I am going crazy," I whisper to myself.

"You're not crazy," someone assures from down the hall, the rasp of the stranger's voice loud against the silence of the corridor.

"Are you sure? Because I just saw the ghost of my fucking friend who isn't even dead," I laugh, not bothering to look at the stranger. It was all too humiliating.

"That was real," the voice says, "he was there- I was there."

"Jake?" I whisper, my heart dropping as I turn to face the disembodied voice.

"Hey, kiddo," a disheveled Jake smiles from the end of the hall.

He begins his trek over to me and all I can do is stare. Stare, and cry, and learn to accept the undead. 

"You're not here," I laugh through uncontrollable tears, "God, I'm really fucking losing it."

"I'm here, Arabella. Right here," he whispers, a single tear falling down his cheek as he leans down and reaches for mine, caressing a thumb against my skin.

"Oh my god," I weep, scrambling into his arms and hugging him close.

"I'm sorry," he cries into my hair, holding onto me so tight I think I may pass out.

"Me too," I mumble.

We crashed into each other, holding our bodies against one another whilst we sobbed; sharing every emotion, every memory we had. Sharing the pain, the guilt, the loss we had yet to face. All of the grief at once unloading its weaponry into our hearts, digging its teeth into our stomachs, gnawing away at our throats until we cried ourselves into silence.

And then it was quiet; just for a moment, it was quiet. No beeping, no hushed voices, no Sam, and no Josh. Just me and Jake; alone and mourning.

It was too familiar. All too familiar. The grief, the sadness. All of it.

And then there was the anger.

"How could you?!" I yelp suddenly, pulling myself off him, my teary eyes exploring his.

"I know-"

"No, you don't fucking know! How could you know? You weren't here!" I shout, gently pounding my fists against his chest, pushing him away but yet keeping a strong hold on his wrinkled t-shirt.

"Bella?" Sam calls from around the corner.

Jake rips himself from my grip at the sound of his baby brother's voice, abruptly standing and backing away from me.

"You can't be serious," I dryly laugh, tears cascading down my cheeks, "You can't go. Not again, Jake."

"I'm sorry," he mutters, tucking his lip between his teeth and wiping his palms on his jeans before turning away from me, "I'm so sorry."

"No you're not," I whimper, "if you were sorry, you'd stay."

"I-" he starts to say, but he can't seem to get the words out, so he simply walks away. Again.

I watch as he goes, knowing that if there was nothing I could do about it the first time, then there was certainly nothing I could do about it now.