Sara held the cake against the backdrop of a sunset, letting the colors of the little flame and the sky meld into each other before her mother pulled the curtains close.
There was a certain type of absence that lingered in the air, like excessive space that needed filling. But it had been quite some time since Sara had felt this content, singing a sweet happy birthday to her mother and kissing her cold cheek gently in the dimness, so she brushed it off.
What she didn't know was the kiss planted on the other side of her mother's cheek. One of a ghost's, one of a brother's.
"Love you," Kieran murmured against his mother's face, aware that his words would fall on deaf ears. He could taste salt on his tongue, another tear trailing down his face. "Love you," he echoed, this time towards his sister.
He huffed shakily, wrapping his arms around himself as he watched them hug, and headed towards the door.
"Happy birthday, ma."
__________
He remembered.
He couldn't quite explain how, but suddenly the mist cleared and the curtains whipped open. He remembered. It was all he had set off to achieve— to remember, to belong, to exist.
Yet he felt as important as nothing.
This nothingness expanded from his toes across the vast ocean. He rested his forehead against the cold metal of the bottom rail, legs dangling off the edge. Kieran stared at the thin line between the sky and the sea, pondering if he could just walk to the end of it. Except he couldn't. And there was no one left to care about his departure anyway.
"Kieran!"
Almost no one.
The pattering of footsteps got louder and immediately arms were wrapped around his neck from behind. The ravenhead hung his head low, watching a black mop of fur climb into his lap.
"I've been looking for you. It scared me so much when you vanished."
Kieran lifted a hand to the boy's face, wishing on every star above that he could feel his skin on his palm.
"Are you okay?" Lennon questioned, not even bothering to mask the worry in his voice. He hooked his chin over the ravenhead's shoulder when he offered no response. "Kier. Say something."
Eyes still leveled towards the ocean, Kieran's mind altered the blue of the scene before him into the dullest of greys.
"Ghostie, please."
Socks propped its paws against the ravenhead's chest and nuzzled his chin.
"This is where I'm supposed to go." His voice was hoarse, every word from his mouth scraped with sandpaper. "This is the gateway to the afterlife. Autumn showed me." Even the mention of his friend's name hurt. "You hold your ticket against your heart," he said, swallowing the dryness in his throat as he pointed towards the ocean, "walk in and never look back. But I don't know what I want anymore."
The graveness of it all made Lennon's stomach coil, the greedy parts of him wanting to keep Kieran away from this fate.
"I remember. Everything." Kieran finally turned his face towards Lennon, whose lips were parted in tremor. He wanted to kiss them. "Sara. The divorce. I was at the end of my rope. Family was everything to me. Dance was everything to me. I felt like I lost both. And I just— couldn't—" It was all spilling out now, the ugliest of waterfalls. "I didn't want to— to die. I just wanted all the hurt to stop."
Watching the sheen of tears develop in the chestnut boy's eyes made the agony in his chest worst. Kieran's tear ducts had run dry, but the sight of his Lennon crying brought the saltiness back to his taste buds.
So he shook his head and refused to hurt the boy further, lips sealing.
Lennon let the silence seep into their souls for a few minutes, gazing down at the water lapping at the shore. Then he stood, holding a hand out for the ravenhead who in turn looked at him with drowsy eyes.
"Tell me another time," the chestnut boy said gently.
Socks understood first, leaping off Kieran's lap in an instant.
"Let's go home."
__________
Kieran turned away from his parents' house, where he was forgotten, and followed this boy he met merely a weeks ago... home. In this apartment where he was remembered and cherished and whole.
Kieran didn't know what else to do except trail after him. Despite having roamed the streets for months, he was truly shelterless now. And something about Lennon's welcome mat in front of his doorstep made his stomach churn.
"I don't think I should—" he started, voice shaken from crying.
And suddenly, Lennon's finger was in front of his lips. "None of that. Your eyes are swollen and your posture is gone. You're tired, Kier." That was the most demanding he had ever been. "Stay the night. You need it."
Kieran's brows meshed together, trying to unveil the reason behind his need but emerging with nothing. However, Lennon said it out loud for both of them to hear.
"I don't want you to be alone anymore. Not now, not ever."
Keys were hung on the ridges along the mirror, and shoes were kicked off. Kieran whipped his head around to face the wall when the chestnut boy conveniently changed in front of him, switching into comfier clothes, and his hatred for himself peaked when his feet rose off the floor, flustered. Back muscles, shoulder blades, waist. He forced himself back down and drowned in newfound mortification.
His feet stayed glued to the ground when Lennon headed towards his bedroom, looking back at him. The change of attire made him look so cuddly. "Come here," he prodded.
The ravenhead lost his ability to speak, stepping forward and standing cowardly before Lennon.
The chestnut boy smiled. A weight was lifted off Kieran's shoulders instantly.
Lennon's hand hovered near his like he wanted to link them. Instead he gestured him closer and climbed into bed, pulling back the blankets. "Kier," he called softly.
Even Socks, who was previously perched on the mattress, leaped onto the window sill instead to make room for Kieran. The ravenhead gaped at it.
"C'mere ghostie," was Lennon's attempt to lighten the mood, patting the unoccupied space next to him.
Gravity pulled Kieran forward. The ravenhead dipped his knee over the mattress and sunk. Quite literally. The tension in his movements must've caused his body to submerge under the surface.
A respectable distance sat between them.
"Can you sleep, Kieran?" Lennon asked, the question genuine.
"I don't know," he replied quietly, "I've never slept as a ghost. It's like I've forgotten what sleep is." His eyes darted between the chestnut boy's features, hyper-aware that he was lying next to him in bed.
Lennon outlined Kieran's locked jaw with a finger. "Relax. I feel like you've been on edge this entire time. Have you ever taken a day off from searching... searching for your past?"
Kieran let out a dry laugh that ended in a pathetic cough. "What else can I do?"
The boy in front of him smiled, fringe scuffed against the pillow. "There's so much for you to do. New things to try, places to explore."
"But I'm dead."
"Who said you had to be alive to live?"
"Len, that doesn't make any sense."
"Do you think, if death never existed, that we would care to live life to the fullest?" Lennon asked.
Kieran turned on him. "So you think death is necessary?"
"I think the world has so much to offer and you're running from it out of fear." The boy propped himself up on an elbow. "Tell me, what's so great about the afterlife anyway?"
Kieran didn't have an answer to that, mouth opening and closing.
"Exactly." Lennon's words softened. "It's just an escape, Kier. Like what you said— you never wanted to die. You just wanted all the hurt to go away."
Kieran cast his eyes in another direction, avoiding his own words.
"But hurting is like— it's just human. And I know that's not what you think of yourself now, in this state of body. But Kieran..."
His name rolled off Lennon's tongue too easily, and his fingers itched to touch him, hold onto him like a lifeline.
"Look at us now. We hurt no matter what form of existence we're in," the chestnut boy finished.
Kieran blinked, placing emphasis on the fact that Lennon said us and not him. "You're hurting?"
Lennon's voice dropped below his breath, showing a sudden display of shyness. "I'm hurting watching you hurt."
He no longer had a fully functioning heart, but Kieran swore something in his chest contracted violently when he heard those words.
"And that's good," Lennon polished up quickly, "Because I'm sharing your hurt and that means I care about you. And that's how humans work." His face contorted in worry when he noticed the glossiness of the ravenhead's eyes. "Oh Kier..." He reached forward and pulled the blanket up to Kieran's wobbly chin. "Didn't mean to make you cry again."
"It's o-okay," Kieran choked, feeling the pressure of Lennon's hands through the duvet and craving skin-to-skin contact instead, "I could use a good cry."
Lennon seemed to share the same thoughts, hands lingering on the ravenhead's waist a little while longer through the heavy blanket.
It was far from perfect. An illusion of what they were robbed of.
Kieran inhaled sharply, gathering courage before he scooted closer and buried his face close to the chestnut boy's chest. "Lennon," he mumbled with no purpose other than to communicate intimacy.
"Kier," Lennon spoke in return, his entire arm draped over his waist now.
The ravenhead held his ear against Lennon's upper chest, erupting into a fury of sobs when he detected the gentle drumming of heartbeat.
Life.
Kieran robbed himself of life.
He robbed himself of a family, robbed himself of a history, robbed himself of a future.
He glanced up at Lennon, the boy gazing back at him with equal amounts of concern and affection. Worst of all, he didn't even know how far that affection extended to. They were walking the tightrope between friends, temporary partners and something more.
He robbed himself of a chance with him.
"I'm okay," the ravenhead lied because he couldn't stand another second of Lennon looking at him like he'd just ripped his heart out, when in reality he was treasuring it to no end.
"But—"
"Don't you have class tomorrow? Sleep. I'd feel better knowing I didn't keep you up."
Lennon swallowed his protest reluctantly, eyelids closing. He was still long enough for Kieran to believe he had fallen into slumber.
Unabashedly, the ravenhead kept himself occupied with the sound of Lennon's heartbeat. The pitter-patter that somehow kept his tears at bay and planted a hopeful seed in him. His own twisted version of a lullaby.
Until now he had never found the courage to rest, afraid that every moment would go to waste. Or worse— that he would wake up to an even bigger nightmare. But vulnerability was different around this boy.
He couldn't explain it.
Lennon was so utterly alive. Not just physically, but the way he lived and the values he held and the love he had for the world— he was so alive and so present that Kieran wished he was granted that kind of heart.
Unbeknownst to him, Lennon was very much awake. In fact, if you listened closely, you'd notice his breathing pattern halting every few minutes and his subtle movements. He was finding ways to make his heartbeat accelerate, finding ways to make the sound more obvious for Kieran to hear. To provide him hope.
Though it made little difference, he tried, and perhaps it was his way of communicating that he'll share—
I'll share with you my heartbeat.