Since Lennon's mental state was influenced so much by photography, he figured it would only make sense to start the school year on a brighter note.
He hung up a print of the cherry blossoms he took back in April. Renewal, as he had explained to Kieran the day of the theater visit, a representation of a brand new start.
He didn't expect the ravenhead to be in his apartment by morning, so he wasn't surprised to find his home empty. Grabbing his backpack and packed lunch, he made sure to fill Socks' food and water bowls before giving his cat a fond scratch on its petite head as a farewell. Lennon headed for the door.
A sheet of neon yellow caught his eye. A sticky note stuck to the door handle that read:
Len
have a nice first day in prison ^_^
(i don't remember anything about school but my ghost friend said it's like juvenile hall and that sounds a little concerning but have fun?)
Lennon peeled it off the door, chest heaving with both muted laughter and gratitude as he dug through his backpack and stuck the note on the outside of his folder.
Today was going to be a good day— Lennon tidied up his appearance in front of the mirror— He could feel it.
__________
Today was a terrible day for Lennon.
Jittery in his seat, Lennon was having one of those moments when he just couldn't stay still. He had scribbled his way all through his notes, till his joints ached and his eyebrows might be permanently knitted together.
"Why is he so goddamn fast?" the pony-tailed girl next to him complained under her breath.
Lennon's eyes didn't leave the backboard. "I know," he relayed.
She glanced his way, snickering.
The professor cleared his throat loud enough for the whole lecture hall to hear, tapping his chalk against the board. "Something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Ms Li?"
"Nope. Would you like to continue?" she answered back, twiddling her pen between her thumb and index finger like she was bored.
Slightly impressed but also a little terrified, Lennon ducked his head down and steered away from his professor's gaze.
He had turned around to ignore the girl's comment, continuing with the class, so Lennon continued his race against the clock, trying to condense every code on the board into his notebook pages.
Statistics class was over before he knew it and he scrambled to pull his phone out for a picture, but to his absolute dismay, the professor had pulled the projector down and covered up most of the board.
"Hey."
Lennon turned to his left. "Hey."
"Which part of the notes did you need?" the girl asked.
He flipped through his pages. "Measures of Central Tendency. I didn't get to that one."
"Here." She planted her binder on Lennon's desk, pointing. "Take a picture and copy them when you can."
The chestnut boy smiled gratefully, doing as suggested. "Thank you..." he trailed off without a name to end on.
"Sara," she introduced herself, smiling, "And no problem."
Lennon hadn't gotten the chance to look at her properly until now. Dyed purple streaks in her hair and an angular face.
"I'm Lennon."
"Well, Lennon," Sara said, tucking her books under her arm, "I don't know about you but I have a next class to get to." She nudged her thumb towards the classroom door. "See you around."
"See you," the chestnut boy echoed, waving her goodbye. He lowered his hand slowly after she had left, gaze fixed on the door.
She looked... oddly familiar.
He kept that thought all the way home, wondering if he had seen a similar face on a magazine or a newspaper as he opened his notebook and started copying the notes Sara had provided him with.
He had decided the day before to tidy up his studio and make it his study room as well, tearing the black tarp off the windows and replacing them with heavy linen curtains so sunlight could enter the room and add to the warmer atmosphere.
That warmth was disturbed when a chill pricked at the bottom of his spine. Lennon smiled openly— he knew what that meant.
To his surprise, however, the doorbell rang, and he answered by hollering at the top of his lungs. "Ghostie?" When he received no response, Lennon pulled himself out of his wheely chair and went to open his front door. "Hi."
There he was— his favorite ghost in a dark turtleneck. The only ghost he knew. In a dark turtleneck.
"You really just used the doorbell." Lennon grinned, stepping aside to let the ravenhead in. "I was just joking, you know."
But Kieran didn't make any move to enter. His posture was slick with tension and his fingers dug into the sides of his thighs, causing him to stand rather awkwardly.
Lennon reached out to him, worry branching across his eyebrows. "What's wrong?"
"Hi," Kieran managed as if his brain just registered the boy's first greeting a moment ago.
"Do you want to come in?"
Kieran watched the chestnut boy lean outside the door frame to check for neighbors in case they saw him talking to himself.
"Kieran?"
"Yeah okay."
The ravenhead ushered himself in and his nervous movements only prompted more concern on Lennon's end.
"What are you up to?" Kieran asked.
"Schoolwork," the boy put simply, "Not much homework on my first day so that's nice." He led Kieran to his studio. "I'm copying notes."
Lennon's phone was still turned on, the screen facing up and the picture zoomed in. Kieran peered down at it, eyes widening slightly.
"The handwriting looks... familiar," he noted aloud.
Lennon inhaled sharply. "Familiar?" he repeated, "Do you think—"
"Len, I need to ask something of you," Kieran cut him off, chin held higher than usual like he was afraid to show how vulnerable he felt in the moment, "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'm just a little— on edge, right now. Um—"
The boy brushed his notebook aside and raised himself to perch onto the edge of the desk, resting his bare feet on his chair. He tilted his head to the side, ready and listening.
Kieran stared. He looked small like this, knees tucked closer to his chest. Perhaps he did it for Kieran's sake— that way he appeared less threatening, though the Lennon he knew wouldn't hurt a fly anyway.
"C'mere," Lennon murmured, arms inviting.
The ravenhead stood closer, letting Lennon place a hand on his hip. Kieran wished on his own grave that he could feel him.
"What do you need?"
Kieran exhaled shakily. "I went to the theater today."
The boy's eyebrows would've touched his hairline if they were to shoot any higher. "You did?"
"I wanted to try and see if... I don't know." His thoughts were muddled, unpatched. "Maybe I'd pick up on dancing again. Maybe I'd recognize something. I don't know."
Lennon's hand never left him. In fact, he began brushing his thumb up and down Kieran's side in a soothing manner.
The ravenhead tried to avert all his attention on that. Just because he couldn't feel it doesn't mean Lennon wasn't there. And it was a sweet gesture that made Kieran's head spin in ways it shouldn't.
"But there was a show happening. And there were so many people," he continued, voice breaking as his fists curled and uncurled, "And it got so overwhelming so fast and seeing everyone rushing around backstage with their makeup and watching the performers on stage and hearing all the clapping from the audience— it made me want to throw up."
"Oh, Kier..."
Then suddenly all the volume returned to his voice and Kieran was letting out angry bursts of dialogue. "But it doesn't make sense! I'm dead. I can't be nauseous. I can't even physically throw up! So why am I so bad at this?" he raged on, "Why can't I do anything that's at least moderately useful to me?"
"Kieran," Lennon said softly, "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're literally fighting against your own mind right now. You're fighting against the laws of this universe, trying to remember what was erased."
Kieran's chin trembled, no longer jutting upwards in faked confidence. "But I didn't ask to fight anyone," he whispered, "I asked to die. Not go on a scavenger hunt."
The chestnut boy frowned, lifting his feet off his chair and leaving his legs dangling. "Don't say it like that. I didn't want you to die."
A half-hearted, hollow smile pulled at Kieran's lips. "Too late now."
Lennon wanted to tug him closer, but that didn't work, so he motioned for the ravenhead to come forward. He got to his feet, smiling when Kieran's arms snaked around him and buried his face in the crook of the boy's neck.
The ravenhead had a rather athletic build, his turtleneck tight-fitting enough to show off muscles when flexed the right way. It made sense. If Kieran died a dancer, he must've undergone some kind of training.
And hell— Lennon wasn't complaining.
It was nice and snug here, in Kieran's arms. No matter how delusional he found himself to be. He swore there was warmth radiating off the ravenhead.
Or maybe his blush had spread across his entire body at this point.
"I'm so proud of you for going back to the theater," he told him, voice thick with genuineness, "I know it wasn't easy. Especially when you said how triggering it could be whenever you recall something you didn't want to recall."
Kieran finally pulled back, blinking at Lennon.
"You said you wanted to ask something of me."
"Mhm," the ravenhead said, but he fell into a long pause afterward.
Lennon could notice his hesitation from a mile away. "You're allowed to be selfish," he told him.
Kieran ducked his head down with an airy laugh before meeting the boy's eyes again in all seriousness. "I need you with me next time I decide to dance again."
"Oh?"
"You ground me, Lennon," he said.
Whenever the earth swallowed him, he lassoed him back to the top. Whenever gravity whisked him away, he lowered him gently back towards the ground. Till his toes graced the surface so elegantly that maybe then he was dancing.
Maybe Lennon was his music. Maybe every note the boy hummed in his sleep was the construction of Kieran's melody.
Maybe his bones were woven of the tough fibers of rope and he had bound him towards this greater hope that everything will be okay.
"I'm not as scared when I'm with you."
"Okay." The boy in front of him smiled the kind of smile that didn't brighten but softened the horrors of the world. "What are you thinking?"
Kieran sat down on his chair and rubbed his thighs as he unraveled his thoughts. "I'm thinking that that theater triggers me because I've been there. So if I want to take baby steps, I need to get myself used to stuff like this first," he explained, "I found another, smaller theater downtown. And— and I bought two tickets to the musical happening on Friday night."
Lennon lifted a suspicious eyebrow, a grin surfacing. "You bought?"
The ravenhead's shoulders fell. "Fine. I stole. But Autumn talked me into it!"
"Who's Autumn?"
"My ghost friend, as you like to call them."
"Ah."
A brief silence hogged the space in the room.
"You want me to go with you?" Lennon questioned, looking straight at him.
"Only if you want to," the ravenhead rambled quickly, "It could just be a fun activity... a date— not a date," he corrected, shaking his head, "I don't know why I said that. A friendly— a friendly date as friends."
Desperate to hide in embarrassment, Kieran's eyes drilled into the floor, mind screaming Swallow me up now you coward!
But Lennon's giggle forced him to look up again.
"I'll go on your friendly date as friends," Lennon said, leaning back against the edge of his desk and doing air quotes. His smile was bursting at the seams, morphing into a wide grin.
"As friends," Kieran emphasized as if he could not dig himself a bigger hole.
"Yes, Kier. As friends. You can stop floating now."
"Shit."