Chapter 7: Why Not?

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"What are you doing?"

I nearly jump out of my skin as Arthur floats in front of my face suddenly. I nearly drop my laptop but somehow manage to save it before it becomes splinters of useless metal. Closing the device shut, I sigh and rub at my temples.

"Dude, don't do that. I could've been looking up porn or something," I whine as my heartbeat slowly returns to normal.

The ghost's eyes widen, and he coughs awkwardly, looking away pointedly. "My apologies, Alfred."

I shrug. "It's cool, bro," I return, sliding back on my bed so my back is pressed against my wall. I beckon the boy over, and he obediently follows suit -- plopping down next to me. 

I know he's a ghost and all, and I know that it'd be a horrible idea to let myself fall for him. But when he curls up next to me, causing the scent of sweet tea to wash over me, I can't help the way my heart starts to speed up.

"What were you really looking at, though?" he asks, his head tilted adorably, showing off his confusion.

I say nothing but open my laptop again, entering my password with practiced ease. My background is rather embarrassingly Captain America, and I try to fight off the blush that stains my cheeks when Arthur's brows raise. Maybe I shouldn't have made my background a shirtless Captain America winking at the user. That definitely would've saved me some dignity points.

"So, Captain America, huh?" the Brit teases, a small smile on his lips. 

My blush darkens. "It's not my fault he's hot," I argue, silently thanking the computer when it brings back up the website I was on. Meanwhile, Arthur thinks my comment is the funniest thing in the world, laughing uncontrollably. It's a ringing laugh that is extremely dorky but adorable at the same time.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as gay," he says, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes before remembering he can't cry anymore.

I huff childishly. "Well, I am."

He chuckles. "It's okay, love. I am, too."

I raise an eyebrow at that, but decide to drop the topic as the website finally loads back up once again. "I was researching ways to help spirits move on," I tell him, scrolling through the web page. "But so far, all I've been able to find are these fan-sites about Supernatural."

"What's Supernatural?" Arthur asks, tilting his head again and confusion before shaking it, as if to refocus himself. "And why would you be doing that?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. Is that not what he wants? "It's a show, and why not? Don't you want to move on?"

He shakes his head rapidly. "No, Alfred, I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" I ask, moving the computer from my lap before turning to face him fully. 

He refuses to meet my eyes. "There's many reasons," he admits softly, and the pain that always laces his eyes becomes even more prominent that before.

"Is it about the people that killed you?" I ask, trying to deduce why he wouldn't want to leave this torn existence.

"Partly," he admits with a sigh. His shoulders slouch as he looks to his hands, his hair hanging into his beautiful eyes.

I feel a pain wash over me as I realize that he's been through so much, and I have no idea what happened to him. If anything, I've just joked around with him. What if he's been wanting to actually talk to me about his life and what happened, and I just made it seem like a joke?

I reach for his hands, thankful when he lets me hold them. Otherwise, my hands would have passed right through his body. They still would, but he's resting them atop mine, holding them up so that doesn't happen. Wishing I could feel the skin of him against me, I run my thumbs along the surface of his hands, where his skin should be.

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