Silent Whispers, Silent Tears - Fletcher/Jones - Standalone
Title: Silent Whispers, Silent Tears
Author: valquiris
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones
Genre: Angst
Summary: Tom never imagined how much it would hurt to fall in love.
A/N: I wrote this on the couse of two days, because it's been nagging me so much, I had to make it stop. Nothing more I could say... Oh! Thank you for those who voted for Even Angels Fall for the prompt challenge! I love you guys, whoever you are! XD
Disclaimer: I do not own McFly in any way.
I ran. Past the trees, the streetlamps, the fences, the houses. I ran. I didn’t know where I was heading, but I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was get away. I couldn’t see much overhead, the sun having set over an hour ago, but thank God for the lamps, and on I went. I turned my head to look over my shoulder if they were still following me, and I sprinted faster after seeing them appear from the corner, three burly someones swinging their cricket bats madly over their heads, loud whooping sounds echoing from one of them.
It had been like this for about twenty minutes, a cat-and-mouse chase using the entire neighborhood as the hunting ground. I was the mouse, of course, and I weaved through obstructions too many to count just like one trying to find its way out of a tabletop maze, the twinkling stars the eyes of scientists keeping track of my progress. Why they were chasing me was a complete mystery; the moment I stepped out of the library, there they were, bats slung over their shoulders, stone-faced with blazing eyes, waiting for me.
Tripping on a discarded branch, I landed on a patch of grass on my side, pain shooting through me in contact.
“There he is!”
I heard one of them say this from somewhere not too far off, gruff and mad, and I quickly scrambled to my feet, adrenaline pumping furiously through my veins. Once again, I broke into a run, and I immediately set off to the darker end of the neighborhood obscured by trees, moonlight my only source of illumination now as the procession of streetlamps halted to a stop.
This part of the area was unfamiliar to me; every turn seemed exactly like the ones before it, every tree loomed over me like grotesque humanoids with skinny arms and thick builds, their hair waving ominously in the wind, twisted faces mocking me as I huffed my way through. I continued anyway, taking my chance with them rather than the ones with the bats, and soon I found myself pushing through a rusting gate, the hinges creaking loud enough for a flock of birds to hear. They flew past me from the treetops, the rustling of their wings amplified in the still silence that enveloped my new refuge, and slowing to a walk and looking around, I discovered where exactly it was I had stumbled into.
Tombstones filled the entire graveyard, some laying flat on their backs, trapped in peaceful slumber, some jutting out of the grass, casting shadows tall and daunting, disturbed and angry about my sudden intrusion. They didn’t scare me, and I walked adamantly past them, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns meticulously chiseled on their surfaces: wings, doves, flowers, rosaries. Some had archaic structures resting behind them; cherubim, some with their wings and other body parts broken clean off, accumulating a fair bit of mold, tendrils of weeds crawling on, and in tiny cracks of, their marble skin; Virgin Mary’s standing under archways, all extremely similar to one another, their hands outstretched as if inviting everyone in their arms, flowers littering the ground around their feet, daunting snakes creeping from between their ankles, forked tongues dangerously close to their mossy, blackening heels.
The whole place seemed so sad, but what else could I expect from a graveyard? My walk slowed even more, and soon I didn’t appear to move at all. They wouldn’t think of chasing me here, in these hallowed grounds where stories of ghosts and apparitions have found their wicked ways into the hearts of countless children, would they? They would pursue an unsuspecting lad with unnecessary weapons, fully aware it was three against one, so what is it they wouldn’t do? Thinking of an answer, I looked over my shoulder to see if they’ve finally caught up. Relieved of their absence, I turned back to my stroll, my hands coming upon my waist as the cold pressed itself upon my skin.
Looking past the tombstones, the once beautiful sculptures now scalded indifferently by nature, the trees watching my every move, I found myself liking the graveyard. It was peaceful, outside influence completely blocked except for the occasional visitors who placed flowers on their respective loved ones, now wilting as the icy winds assaulted their very being.
I sat down on the grass before a cherub reaching for the heavens with his tiny hands, wings cruelly snapped off and nowhere to be found, longing in his nonexistent eyes. In a way, I felt like him, wanting to get away from this horrible place and into one where there’s nothing but pure happiness, where everyday, I’ll feel like I’m wanted, like I’m somebody.
A sign of movement behind me sent shivers up my spine, and I quickly turned my head at the source of activity. Nothing. Just a bust of an old woman from her neck up, one of her ears suffered the same fate as the cherub’s wings. But what happened next not only made those shivers expand tenfold, it made my heart race twice as much.
“Are you alright?”
Slowly and woodenly, mouth slightly open, I twisted my head to the sound, and at once laid my widened eyes on blue orbs intently staring back. Deep, brown hair, face as white as porcelain that seemed to radiate its own light, cheeks and lips devoid of any color, black shirt and matching trousers, bare feet. This person was squatting in front of me, elbows resting on his knees, arms crossing each other, and I found myself dumbstruck. I couldn’t answer back.
“Are you alright?”
I shook my head. I most certainly was not alright; the suddenness of his appearance threw me in a state of temporary shock, and I could only muster a dry, shaky exhale in response. How did he get there without me noticing? It was impossible; the silence around us would have shattered if I as much as dropped a pebble on one of the statues. But there he was, in full view, eyes full of concern watching me, pale lips curved into a soft smile, still waiting for that answer my throat refused to give. He looked so much like one of the statues.
“Who are you?”
The sound surprised me more than it should have; I suddenly acquired the power to speak again, and this was the first thing that escaped my lips. He chuckled. Apparently, my reply was amusing to him, and I didn’t wait for him to explain why. At once my face adopted a mask as brazen as the old woman’s bust, the same one it always put up whenever it felt threatened somehow. In my heart, though, I didn’t feel the least threatened; just wary of this stranger that seemed to have fallen from the skies.
“A friend, if you’ll let me be.”
The mask was lifted off, revealing a subtle expression of disbelief. Never have I been asked to be anyone’s friend before since moving here. Everyone just thought of me as that sad, strange boy in the corner reading his books, isolated in his own little island of peculiarity and loneliness. It didn’t seem viable. Maybe I was just hallucinating, induced by the overload of adrenaline in my blood, and he was just a figment of my imagination, manifestation of my own sick and twisted desire to have someone to call a friend.
“You’re not real.”
He gave me a puzzling look, and once again, he chuckled, each sound vibrating in my ears.
“You’re an odd one.”
I didn’t retort. I stood up and turned to leave, already taking a few steps on the other side and back to the rusting gate. I gave one last backward glance, and I realized he wasn’t there anymore. My heart sank slightly; I was half hoping he was real, that he really wanted to be my friend. That was, until I twisted my head back to the direction my body had been walking in.
I stopped, standing stock-still on the spot, my eyes wide open once again.
He was there, right in front of me like before, without me detecting any motion whatsoever, that same smile on his lips, hands deep in his pockets. Alright, maybe he was real; he was just really fast is all.
“So, what do you say?”
I mulled over the idea for a second. Should I trust him? What if this was just a prank from the kids at school, and that in accepting, I would find myself naked and bound in a room, cameras flashing everywhere, their cruel laughter echoing horribly as they took their snapshots? Considering, however, I had nothing to lose, but oh, so much to gain. I sighed, and managed a smile of my own for the first time since our meeting.
“Alright, then.”
He beamed in joy. There was something about the action that made me want to return it, and soon I found my smile widening to a full-blown grin. I didn’t know if it was genuine or not, but it felt like the proper thing to do at the moment, and I didn’t think he’d notice any difference. He’d never seen me smile before.
“Now that that’s settled, I want you to come with me.”
He said this with the friendliest smile one could imagine, and I couldn’t find it in myself to reject his offer, even with the incursion of thoughts regarding my imminent doom and other things I didn’t bother to pursue. He walked before me, hands still in his pockets, hair defiantly flat despite the rush of wind that swept mine as it brushed past us. I followed closely, growing increasingly anxious of the mystery of what this “friend” had in store.
We stopped beside a willow tree in the middle of the graveyard, its leaves cascading down creating the impression of a green waterfall, and he asked me to position my back firmly against the coarse trunk. I did as I was told.
“I always do this, so don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. It’s just for insurance. People have the habit of fainting.”
I furrowed my brows.
“Why?”
He took a deep breath, muttered something I couldn’t hear in our distance, and looked at me dead in the eyes.
“For what I’m about to tell you.”
My heart picked up speed. Was he going to tell me it was all just a joke? So many possible replies assaulted my brain all at once, but I kept as serious a face as I could.
“I’m a ghost.”
Gravity converged into a ball of mass and dropped on my head. I stared at him in bewilderment, an eyebrow raised, my head inclined slightly. What was this guy on? Some new drug I wasn’t familiar with? My expression didn’t seem to faze him, however; he maintained his eye contact without so much as a flicker of embarrassment, or… anything. Just blue spheres glinting in the moonlight, boring deep into mine with utmost seriousness.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
How can I? Who in their right mind would believe he was a ghost? It’s completely mental. Before I could respond, he advanced, and I found myself shrinking back into the tree. What if he was dangerous? Like an escaped mental patient who happened to have a knife stuffed in his back pocket or something, waiting for a victim in the dead of night. However, instead of a knife, he extended an empty hand, as pale as the rest of him, and he challenged me at once.
“Touch me.”
I gaped. Was I really that foolish to even consider his proposal? I considered anyway, and that maybe in doing so, I’ll bring him back to reality. I reached my hand to his, slightly shaking more from the madness of it all than from the cold hair swirling around my fingers, and made to slap his palm, anticipating the imminent impact crystallized by the laws of nature.
Somehow, he defied that law. My hand swung empty to the other side, but the oddest thing about the entirety of it was, in passing through his hand, it felt as though I’d just plunged my own in a bucket of ice-cold water. The sensation was gone as fast as it appeared. I gasped aloud, my eyes wide as if I had just been slapped across the face, my eyes glued to his hovering hand. However did he manage to do that?
“Please don’t run away. Everyone else did.”
The sound snapped me back to his eyes, which were filled with as much longing as the cherub’s he had squatted in front of. So what if he was a ghost… Shouldn’t he be in heaven, or hell, or somewhere by now? But I relented, a smile placed comfortably on my lips. Was I that desperate to befriend a ghost? No, I wasn’t desperate; I was being human. This being before me was as lonely as I was, and I figured we’d be perfect companions. At least now, there’d be two less lonely people in the world.
“I won’t.”
His face swelled in delight, and it seemed to radiate a stronger light than before. That was the moment that started an ironclad friendship, and I’d never felt so alive.
I frequented my visits to the graveyard that now served as our playground, forever encased in the tangible darkness of night. He had a condition; he could only come out at night, when he was sure the whole place was completely empty. I would always find him around that very same cherub, his tombstone; sometimes before it, sometimes behind it, sometimes over it. He admitted to me that he liked to fly; he had always wanted to since he was a child, and now that he had been granted the ability, he used it indiscriminately whenever he had the chance. I would watch him from the willow tree, gliding past the leaves, past the Virgin Mary’s, smiling as he performed acrobatic stunts that were dedicated only to me.
We would have talks, just sitting on one of the willow’s branches, watching as the stars sparkled overhead. I would tell him about my life, what I liked to do in my leisure time, what my dreams and aspirations were. In return, he would tell me all about his life, in living and in death. He used to be a Danny Jones, died a year before I was born, and lived a great life. He was only seventeen when he died, and was nearing his eighteenth birthday when a truck collided with his car as he was returning from a party. From what he could gather, he was found below the bridge from where the accident happened, and he died before the ambulances came.
I listened intently, sometimes finishing his sentences when I felt the need to, and we would laugh in hilarity when one of us told something funny. He had a sense of humor, Danny did, and he never failed to make me smile. It was his smile that did it, though; whenever it showed itself, I couldn’t help but smile back.
During the intervals of our talks, he would show me around the graveyard, showing me secret passageways between trees and bushes that led to either abandoned houses that time had decimated or clearings with differing sizes and shapes. We would stop more in the clearings; I felt it gave us a sense of privacy. I didn’t want disturbance, and he complied with ease. Sometimes, I would bring food from home to the clearings, and he would watch me eat like a child watching a riveting circus act. He would ask me how each tasted, telling me that he had forgotten how it was like to eat, and I would describe to the best of my abilities.
With each passing day, I assumed a much different outlook on him that I did previously. What I once saw as never-ending whiteness, I saw now as colorful. His pale cheeks and lips were now tinted with pink, and skin glowed with exuberance. He looked as alive as I was. It was then that I discovered something inside myself that I never thought I would ever feel so early in my life, something that scared me deeply. I didn’t want to admit it; not to him and not to myself, and I would stay up late at night in my bed thinking about it.
I wanted the thoughts to stop, and in my attempts at doing so, I was growing distant from him. My frequent stops dwindled to occasional visits, and I knew this. So did he.
He told me what he felt about my sudden remoteness one day when I was carving something in the trunk of the willow tree.
“How come you don’t visit as much anymore?”
I looked up from the “Tom and Danny” I was working on and turned to him. He was sitting on the lowest branch, feet swinging back and forth alternatively, hands that appeared to rest on the bark really hovering in the air.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do, or you wouldn’t do it.”
“I just needed some time to think about things, that’s all.”
“You couldn’t do that with me?”
It was at those words when that feeling erupted into something so great, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Everything came to me like a swarm of bees closing in for the kill. It fell upon my heart like an iron press, and I dropped the screwdriver clasped in my hand, unable to take the blow.
I was falling in love with him.
“No.”
I sat on the ground, my back against the trunk, hugging my knees close to my chest. I felt him descend next to me. Coldness ensued.
“Was it something I did?”
“No.”
In reality, it was; or at least, I believed it was. He shouldn’t have come up to me in the first place, or this feeling wouldn’t have found its way in my heart.
“Tell me, then.”
“It’s just…”
I stopped and turned the other way the moment he appeared before my eyes. I shouldn’t tell him. I shouldn’t tell anyone. It’s just a phase, I’ll get over it. Saying it now would break our friendship. But thinking about it now, not telling him was doing as much damage. Should I never tell him, I would harbor these feelings for days and days, and I wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore. I would, inevitably, stop visiting him.
“I don’t like seeing you like this.”
I snapped my head to him.
“I don’t like seeing you without a smile on your face, or that dimple I like so much. And knowing I’m the cause of that…”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to make him feel bad.
“No, it’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. You’re making it seem like it.”
He flew to the topmost branch and landed on one of the leaves, his back to me, hands in his pockets. I was silent, but my mind was working furiously, my heart beating twice as much. I stood up and climbed the tree, stopping at the altitude my body permitted me.
“I don’t mean to.”
These words left my mouth before I could stop them, and at once, I knew they were the worst things to say.
“So it was because of me.”
I reaped what I sowed, and I felt I had no choice but to tell him everything. For the good of our friendship, I told my self repeatedly. For the good of our friendship…
“Not for the reasons you think.”
He craned his neck down to look at me. His expression in the moonlight was unreadable, but it was clearly of the unhappy kind.
“What, then?”
“Come down here and I’ll tell you.”
Like a sudden rush of wind, he was right next to me, leaning on the branch opposite me, his arms crossed over his chest. I took a deep breath, and I exhaled as slow as I could, my breath shaky and cold.
“I’ve had these… thoughts for a while now. Thoughts about us. I’ve tried to push them away, but they kept coming back whenever I saw your face. It’s just… It’s hard not to think about them without keeping myself from you. I thought that maybe, if I didn’t see you as much, then they’d go away. But they never did, and the more we spent time with each other, the more those thoughts grew. I was scared to tell you, to tell myself about them, because I thought our friendship would end once I did. And I don’t want that. I’ve been lonely for too long, and I don’t want to ruin it just because of some stupid feelings…”
I stopped to collect myself, and I looked in his eyes. He looked back.
“But I can’t help these feelings. They’re telling me that I want us to be more than friends.”
His eyes widened, and I could feel my heart thrashing for freedom.
“Danny, they’re telling me that I love you.”
He looked thunderstruck, as if hardly daring to believe it all. I turned away from him, for the look on his face was enough to take as an answer. I jumped down, my face downcast, and snatched the screwdriver sitting peacefully at the foot of the tree, grasping it tightly to punish it for watching the spectacle.
That was it. Our friendship gone, just like that. I couldn’t blame him. I guess I’d just have to continue on like before, a nobody. At least the boys have stopped chasing me. Finally, I’d get some peace and quiet.
I walked briskly, no intention of stopping, occasionally tripping on creeping weeds concealed by the shadows cast by the statues, ghosts of satisfied smiles on their broken faces, smiling at my misery. But when I walked past Danny’s cherub, I felt a distinctive cold wrapping itself around my body, and from the corner of my surprise-widened eyes, I saw two arms come around my waist, keeping as close to me as they could without freezing me. Fingers interlaced over my stomach, sending chills up my spine and all over my body, and as I craned my head to look at whom they belonged to, I felt my heart swell up like a balloon.
He was looking at me with those blue eyes that could melt even the coldest of icebergs, warming me up against the iciness his body was exuding, that unmistakable smile etched on his face.
“I love you, too.”
That was the defining moment of my life, him standing behind me, arms around my waist, telling me he loved me too, but also the most painful.
Wrapped up in my thoughts of love and being together, I’d completely forgotten he was a ghost, and as I realized this, everything became much more complicated. The thing that hurt me the most was the obvious fact that I could not touch him. Try as I may, I could only get so close without freezing my hand, and even as I hovered on his corporeality, I could only feel cold. The warmth his body was supposed to give me was nowhere to be found, and whenever I attempted, it would always leave me empty. It was as we were sitting in our clearing that I told him about my problem, everything I’d wanted to say but didn’t have the power to tell it, twirling a flower I’d picked earlier near the willow tree between my fingers.
“Where have you been all my life?”
I knew this was a stupid question to ask, but I felt this so strongly, I couldn’t hold it back. I knew the answer clearly, but something in my heart wanted me to let him know.
“Why couldn’t you have been born the same time I did? Then we would’ve known each other when you were alive…”
“What are you getting at?”
He was previously on the far end of the clearing inspecting a worm burrow its way through the ground beneath the grass, and the second he said this, I felt him settle next to me. Then, out of nowhere, I became angry, and I threw the flower on the ground. I shot up and stomped on it, not bothering to look at him. I moved away from him.
“What’s wrong?”
“You shouldn’t have come up to me that day. You should’ve just let me leave. Why didn’t you just let me alone?”
I crossed my arms, my eyes narrowed and gathering a fair bit of moisture. I stayed resilient.
“What are you talking about? I love you, that’s why! And you love me too!”
His voice was raised, slightly hysteric, and I felt him behind me, the cold prickling the back of my neck. I could feel the icy electricity in the atmosphere, and I turned back to him with mad eyes.
“Why did you have to subject me to this… pain! Whenever I try to touch you, my hand falls empty and frozen instead of the warmth I’m supposed to feel! I can’t even kiss you, Danny! I don’t even know what your lips are supposed to feel like! Having this love all cooped up inside me, but I can’t even express it the way I want to, and it hurts!”
I was crying now, but I didn’t care. I was hurting so much, he had no idea.
“It’s all your fault! You shouldn’t have asked me to be your friend in the first place! None of this would’ve happened! I wouldn’t have developed these feelings for you, I wouldn’t have hurt this bad! I was finally accepting my life as an outcast, but you had to come along and-and-ruin everything!”
I was very near yelling, and my voice echoed around the area, as cold his body. He stared at me in incredulity, blue eyes dilated.
“Do you think I like this any more that you do? I was finally content about being dead! All I wanted was a friend, Tom, a friend! Someone I could talk to, someone I could share my life with, someone to listen to me! I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t fall in love anymore, but I didn’t want to be lonely at the same time! I didn’t plan to love you! But when you came along, you made me want to live again… You gave me a tantalizing hunger that I couldn’t satisfy! I wanted to be alive so I could hold you in my arms, so I could feel your skin, so I could feel your lips against mine! And when you told me you love me, you just made that hunger grow! I may be dead, Tom, but I can still feel emotions!”
I stood as dumbstruck as I had our first meeting, and the tears rolled down my cheeks in gallons. So who was really to blame? Me or him? I didn’t know. But something occurred to me as we stared at each other, his face struggling to produce tears his corporeality prevented, the front of my shirt accumulating so much water, I could feel it through the fabric.
“I have to choose, don’t I?”
The comment confused him; I saw it in his face. It was true. I had to make a choice. I couldn’t go on living like this, and I knew what I had to do.
“What do you mean?”
His voice was unsure; he was scared. Scared of what I was about to disclose to him, scared of the mystery that enshrouded my every word. The fear of the unknown, everyone called it, and that’s what he was experiencing at that moment. How did I know this? I could see it in his eyes. Always, I could see in his eyes whatever he was feeling, and this time was no different.
“I have to choose between living and you.”
He shook his head furiously, that trepidation materializing in his face as if he had just seen something truly horrifying.
“No! No, Tom, you don’t have to make that choice! You can still go on living! You can still turn things around, you don’t have to-”
It was my turn to shake my head. No, I couldn’t go on like this, not without him in my arms, or me in his, not without feeling his body, not without feeling his warmth, not without all the good things that came with love. I was conscious of my decision, and I didn’t care for the repercussions. I refused to live the rest of my life as an outsider, a nobody. I wanted to be someone’s somebody, his somebody, and as I looked into his fear-drenched eyes, I was adamant. Nothing could persuade me. Not even leaving my family behind. I wanted him more than I could ever want them. I wanted him more than I could ever want anything in the world. I advanced and stopped inches from him, attention fixed on him and nothing else, and the next words left my lips in a whisper.
“I choose you.”
Author: valquiris
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones
Genre: Angst
Summary: Tom never imagined how much it would hurt to fall in love.
A/N: I wrote this on the couse of two days, because it's been nagging me so much, I had to make it stop. Nothing more I could say... Oh! Thank you for those who voted for Even Angels Fall for the prompt challenge! I love you guys, whoever you are! XD
Disclaimer: I do not own McFly in any way.
I ran. Past the trees, the streetlamps, the fences, the houses. I ran. I didn’t know where I was heading, but I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was get away. I couldn’t see much overhead, the sun having set over an hour ago, but thank God for the lamps, and on I went. I turned my head to look over my shoulder if they were still following me, and I sprinted faster after seeing them appear from the corner, three burly someones swinging their cricket bats madly over their heads, loud whooping sounds echoing from one of them.
It had been like this for about twenty minutes, a cat-and-mouse chase using the entire neighborhood as the hunting ground. I was the mouse, of course, and I weaved through obstructions too many to count just like one trying to find its way out of a tabletop maze, the twinkling stars the eyes of scientists keeping track of my progress. Why they were chasing me was a complete mystery; the moment I stepped out of the library, there they were, bats slung over their shoulders, stone-faced with blazing eyes, waiting for me.
Tripping on a discarded branch, I landed on a patch of grass on my side, pain shooting through me in contact.
“There he is!”
I heard one of them say this from somewhere not too far off, gruff and mad, and I quickly scrambled to my feet, adrenaline pumping furiously through my veins. Once again, I broke into a run, and I immediately set off to the darker end of the neighborhood obscured by trees, moonlight my only source of illumination now as the procession of streetlamps halted to a stop.
This part of the area was unfamiliar to me; every turn seemed exactly like the ones before it, every tree loomed over me like grotesque humanoids with skinny arms and thick builds, their hair waving ominously in the wind, twisted faces mocking me as I huffed my way through. I continued anyway, taking my chance with them rather than the ones with the bats, and soon I found myself pushing through a rusting gate, the hinges creaking loud enough for a flock of birds to hear. They flew past me from the treetops, the rustling of their wings amplified in the still silence that enveloped my new refuge, and slowing to a walk and looking around, I discovered where exactly it was I had stumbled into.
Tombstones filled the entire graveyard, some laying flat on their backs, trapped in peaceful slumber, some jutting out of the grass, casting shadows tall and daunting, disturbed and angry about my sudden intrusion. They didn’t scare me, and I walked adamantly past them, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns meticulously chiseled on their surfaces: wings, doves, flowers, rosaries. Some had archaic structures resting behind them; cherubim, some with their wings and other body parts broken clean off, accumulating a fair bit of mold, tendrils of weeds crawling on, and in tiny cracks of, their marble skin; Virgin Mary’s standing under archways, all extremely similar to one another, their hands outstretched as if inviting everyone in their arms, flowers littering the ground around their feet, daunting snakes creeping from between their ankles, forked tongues dangerously close to their mossy, blackening heels.
The whole place seemed so sad, but what else could I expect from a graveyard? My walk slowed even more, and soon I didn’t appear to move at all. They wouldn’t think of chasing me here, in these hallowed grounds where stories of ghosts and apparitions have found their wicked ways into the hearts of countless children, would they? They would pursue an unsuspecting lad with unnecessary weapons, fully aware it was three against one, so what is it they wouldn’t do? Thinking of an answer, I looked over my shoulder to see if they’ve finally caught up. Relieved of their absence, I turned back to my stroll, my hands coming upon my waist as the cold pressed itself upon my skin.
Looking past the tombstones, the once beautiful sculptures now scalded indifferently by nature, the trees watching my every move, I found myself liking the graveyard. It was peaceful, outside influence completely blocked except for the occasional visitors who placed flowers on their respective loved ones, now wilting as the icy winds assaulted their very being.
I sat down on the grass before a cherub reaching for the heavens with his tiny hands, wings cruelly snapped off and nowhere to be found, longing in his nonexistent eyes. In a way, I felt like him, wanting to get away from this horrible place and into one where there’s nothing but pure happiness, where everyday, I’ll feel like I’m wanted, like I’m somebody.
A sign of movement behind me sent shivers up my spine, and I quickly turned my head at the source of activity. Nothing. Just a bust of an old woman from her neck up, one of her ears suffered the same fate as the cherub’s wings. But what happened next not only made those shivers expand tenfold, it made my heart race twice as much.
“Are you alright?”
Slowly and woodenly, mouth slightly open, I twisted my head to the sound, and at once laid my widened eyes on blue orbs intently staring back. Deep, brown hair, face as white as porcelain that seemed to radiate its own light, cheeks and lips devoid of any color, black shirt and matching trousers, bare feet. This person was squatting in front of me, elbows resting on his knees, arms crossing each other, and I found myself dumbstruck. I couldn’t answer back.
“Are you alright?”
I shook my head. I most certainly was not alright; the suddenness of his appearance threw me in a state of temporary shock, and I could only muster a dry, shaky exhale in response. How did he get there without me noticing? It was impossible; the silence around us would have shattered if I as much as dropped a pebble on one of the statues. But there he was, in full view, eyes full of concern watching me, pale lips curved into a soft smile, still waiting for that answer my throat refused to give. He looked so much like one of the statues.
“Who are you?”
The sound surprised me more than it should have; I suddenly acquired the power to speak again, and this was the first thing that escaped my lips. He chuckled. Apparently, my reply was amusing to him, and I didn’t wait for him to explain why. At once my face adopted a mask as brazen as the old woman’s bust, the same one it always put up whenever it felt threatened somehow. In my heart, though, I didn’t feel the least threatened; just wary of this stranger that seemed to have fallen from the skies.
“A friend, if you’ll let me be.”
The mask was lifted off, revealing a subtle expression of disbelief. Never have I been asked to be anyone’s friend before since moving here. Everyone just thought of me as that sad, strange boy in the corner reading his books, isolated in his own little island of peculiarity and loneliness. It didn’t seem viable. Maybe I was just hallucinating, induced by the overload of adrenaline in my blood, and he was just a figment of my imagination, manifestation of my own sick and twisted desire to have someone to call a friend.
“You’re not real.”
He gave me a puzzling look, and once again, he chuckled, each sound vibrating in my ears.
“You’re an odd one.”
I didn’t retort. I stood up and turned to leave, already taking a few steps on the other side and back to the rusting gate. I gave one last backward glance, and I realized he wasn’t there anymore. My heart sank slightly; I was half hoping he was real, that he really wanted to be my friend. That was, until I twisted my head back to the direction my body had been walking in.
I stopped, standing stock-still on the spot, my eyes wide open once again.
He was there, right in front of me like before, without me detecting any motion whatsoever, that same smile on his lips, hands deep in his pockets. Alright, maybe he was real; he was just really fast is all.
“So, what do you say?”
I mulled over the idea for a second. Should I trust him? What if this was just a prank from the kids at school, and that in accepting, I would find myself naked and bound in a room, cameras flashing everywhere, their cruel laughter echoing horribly as they took their snapshots? Considering, however, I had nothing to lose, but oh, so much to gain. I sighed, and managed a smile of my own for the first time since our meeting.
“Alright, then.”
He beamed in joy. There was something about the action that made me want to return it, and soon I found my smile widening to a full-blown grin. I didn’t know if it was genuine or not, but it felt like the proper thing to do at the moment, and I didn’t think he’d notice any difference. He’d never seen me smile before.
“Now that that’s settled, I want you to come with me.”
He said this with the friendliest smile one could imagine, and I couldn’t find it in myself to reject his offer, even with the incursion of thoughts regarding my imminent doom and other things I didn’t bother to pursue. He walked before me, hands still in his pockets, hair defiantly flat despite the rush of wind that swept mine as it brushed past us. I followed closely, growing increasingly anxious of the mystery of what this “friend” had in store.
We stopped beside a willow tree in the middle of the graveyard, its leaves cascading down creating the impression of a green waterfall, and he asked me to position my back firmly against the coarse trunk. I did as I was told.
“I always do this, so don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. It’s just for insurance. People have the habit of fainting.”
I furrowed my brows.
“Why?”
He took a deep breath, muttered something I couldn’t hear in our distance, and looked at me dead in the eyes.
“For what I’m about to tell you.”
My heart picked up speed. Was he going to tell me it was all just a joke? So many possible replies assaulted my brain all at once, but I kept as serious a face as I could.
“I’m a ghost.”
Gravity converged into a ball of mass and dropped on my head. I stared at him in bewilderment, an eyebrow raised, my head inclined slightly. What was this guy on? Some new drug I wasn’t familiar with? My expression didn’t seem to faze him, however; he maintained his eye contact without so much as a flicker of embarrassment, or… anything. Just blue spheres glinting in the moonlight, boring deep into mine with utmost seriousness.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
How can I? Who in their right mind would believe he was a ghost? It’s completely mental. Before I could respond, he advanced, and I found myself shrinking back into the tree. What if he was dangerous? Like an escaped mental patient who happened to have a knife stuffed in his back pocket or something, waiting for a victim in the dead of night. However, instead of a knife, he extended an empty hand, as pale as the rest of him, and he challenged me at once.
“Touch me.”
I gaped. Was I really that foolish to even consider his proposal? I considered anyway, and that maybe in doing so, I’ll bring him back to reality. I reached my hand to his, slightly shaking more from the madness of it all than from the cold hair swirling around my fingers, and made to slap his palm, anticipating the imminent impact crystallized by the laws of nature.
Somehow, he defied that law. My hand swung empty to the other side, but the oddest thing about the entirety of it was, in passing through his hand, it felt as though I’d just plunged my own in a bucket of ice-cold water. The sensation was gone as fast as it appeared. I gasped aloud, my eyes wide as if I had just been slapped across the face, my eyes glued to his hovering hand. However did he manage to do that?
“Please don’t run away. Everyone else did.”
The sound snapped me back to his eyes, which were filled with as much longing as the cherub’s he had squatted in front of. So what if he was a ghost… Shouldn’t he be in heaven, or hell, or somewhere by now? But I relented, a smile placed comfortably on my lips. Was I that desperate to befriend a ghost? No, I wasn’t desperate; I was being human. This being before me was as lonely as I was, and I figured we’d be perfect companions. At least now, there’d be two less lonely people in the world.
“I won’t.”
His face swelled in delight, and it seemed to radiate a stronger light than before. That was the moment that started an ironclad friendship, and I’d never felt so alive.
I frequented my visits to the graveyard that now served as our playground, forever encased in the tangible darkness of night. He had a condition; he could only come out at night, when he was sure the whole place was completely empty. I would always find him around that very same cherub, his tombstone; sometimes before it, sometimes behind it, sometimes over it. He admitted to me that he liked to fly; he had always wanted to since he was a child, and now that he had been granted the ability, he used it indiscriminately whenever he had the chance. I would watch him from the willow tree, gliding past the leaves, past the Virgin Mary’s, smiling as he performed acrobatic stunts that were dedicated only to me.
We would have talks, just sitting on one of the willow’s branches, watching as the stars sparkled overhead. I would tell him about my life, what I liked to do in my leisure time, what my dreams and aspirations were. In return, he would tell me all about his life, in living and in death. He used to be a Danny Jones, died a year before I was born, and lived a great life. He was only seventeen when he died, and was nearing his eighteenth birthday when a truck collided with his car as he was returning from a party. From what he could gather, he was found below the bridge from where the accident happened, and he died before the ambulances came.
I listened intently, sometimes finishing his sentences when I felt the need to, and we would laugh in hilarity when one of us told something funny. He had a sense of humor, Danny did, and he never failed to make me smile. It was his smile that did it, though; whenever it showed itself, I couldn’t help but smile back.
During the intervals of our talks, he would show me around the graveyard, showing me secret passageways between trees and bushes that led to either abandoned houses that time had decimated or clearings with differing sizes and shapes. We would stop more in the clearings; I felt it gave us a sense of privacy. I didn’t want disturbance, and he complied with ease. Sometimes, I would bring food from home to the clearings, and he would watch me eat like a child watching a riveting circus act. He would ask me how each tasted, telling me that he had forgotten how it was like to eat, and I would describe to the best of my abilities.
With each passing day, I assumed a much different outlook on him that I did previously. What I once saw as never-ending whiteness, I saw now as colorful. His pale cheeks and lips were now tinted with pink, and skin glowed with exuberance. He looked as alive as I was. It was then that I discovered something inside myself that I never thought I would ever feel so early in my life, something that scared me deeply. I didn’t want to admit it; not to him and not to myself, and I would stay up late at night in my bed thinking about it.
I wanted the thoughts to stop, and in my attempts at doing so, I was growing distant from him. My frequent stops dwindled to occasional visits, and I knew this. So did he.
He told me what he felt about my sudden remoteness one day when I was carving something in the trunk of the willow tree.
“How come you don’t visit as much anymore?”
I looked up from the “Tom and Danny” I was working on and turned to him. He was sitting on the lowest branch, feet swinging back and forth alternatively, hands that appeared to rest on the bark really hovering in the air.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do, or you wouldn’t do it.”
“I just needed some time to think about things, that’s all.”
“You couldn’t do that with me?”
It was at those words when that feeling erupted into something so great, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Everything came to me like a swarm of bees closing in for the kill. It fell upon my heart like an iron press, and I dropped the screwdriver clasped in my hand, unable to take the blow.
I was falling in love with him.
“No.”
I sat on the ground, my back against the trunk, hugging my knees close to my chest. I felt him descend next to me. Coldness ensued.
“Was it something I did?”
“No.”
In reality, it was; or at least, I believed it was. He shouldn’t have come up to me in the first place, or this feeling wouldn’t have found its way in my heart.
“Tell me, then.”
“It’s just…”
I stopped and turned the other way the moment he appeared before my eyes. I shouldn’t tell him. I shouldn’t tell anyone. It’s just a phase, I’ll get over it. Saying it now would break our friendship. But thinking about it now, not telling him was doing as much damage. Should I never tell him, I would harbor these feelings for days and days, and I wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore. I would, inevitably, stop visiting him.
“I don’t like seeing you like this.”
I snapped my head to him.
“I don’t like seeing you without a smile on your face, or that dimple I like so much. And knowing I’m the cause of that…”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to make him feel bad.
“No, it’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. You’re making it seem like it.”
He flew to the topmost branch and landed on one of the leaves, his back to me, hands in his pockets. I was silent, but my mind was working furiously, my heart beating twice as much. I stood up and climbed the tree, stopping at the altitude my body permitted me.
“I don’t mean to.”
These words left my mouth before I could stop them, and at once, I knew they were the worst things to say.
“So it was because of me.”
I reaped what I sowed, and I felt I had no choice but to tell him everything. For the good of our friendship, I told my self repeatedly. For the good of our friendship…
“Not for the reasons you think.”
He craned his neck down to look at me. His expression in the moonlight was unreadable, but it was clearly of the unhappy kind.
“What, then?”
“Come down here and I’ll tell you.”
Like a sudden rush of wind, he was right next to me, leaning on the branch opposite me, his arms crossed over his chest. I took a deep breath, and I exhaled as slow as I could, my breath shaky and cold.
“I’ve had these… thoughts for a while now. Thoughts about us. I’ve tried to push them away, but they kept coming back whenever I saw your face. It’s just… It’s hard not to think about them without keeping myself from you. I thought that maybe, if I didn’t see you as much, then they’d go away. But they never did, and the more we spent time with each other, the more those thoughts grew. I was scared to tell you, to tell myself about them, because I thought our friendship would end once I did. And I don’t want that. I’ve been lonely for too long, and I don’t want to ruin it just because of some stupid feelings…”
I stopped to collect myself, and I looked in his eyes. He looked back.
“But I can’t help these feelings. They’re telling me that I want us to be more than friends.”
His eyes widened, and I could feel my heart thrashing for freedom.
“Danny, they’re telling me that I love you.”
He looked thunderstruck, as if hardly daring to believe it all. I turned away from him, for the look on his face was enough to take as an answer. I jumped down, my face downcast, and snatched the screwdriver sitting peacefully at the foot of the tree, grasping it tightly to punish it for watching the spectacle.
That was it. Our friendship gone, just like that. I couldn’t blame him. I guess I’d just have to continue on like before, a nobody. At least the boys have stopped chasing me. Finally, I’d get some peace and quiet.
I walked briskly, no intention of stopping, occasionally tripping on creeping weeds concealed by the shadows cast by the statues, ghosts of satisfied smiles on their broken faces, smiling at my misery. But when I walked past Danny’s cherub, I felt a distinctive cold wrapping itself around my body, and from the corner of my surprise-widened eyes, I saw two arms come around my waist, keeping as close to me as they could without freezing me. Fingers interlaced over my stomach, sending chills up my spine and all over my body, and as I craned my head to look at whom they belonged to, I felt my heart swell up like a balloon.
He was looking at me with those blue eyes that could melt even the coldest of icebergs, warming me up against the iciness his body was exuding, that unmistakable smile etched on his face.
“I love you, too.”
That was the defining moment of my life, him standing behind me, arms around my waist, telling me he loved me too, but also the most painful.
Wrapped up in my thoughts of love and being together, I’d completely forgotten he was a ghost, and as I realized this, everything became much more complicated. The thing that hurt me the most was the obvious fact that I could not touch him. Try as I may, I could only get so close without freezing my hand, and even as I hovered on his corporeality, I could only feel cold. The warmth his body was supposed to give me was nowhere to be found, and whenever I attempted, it would always leave me empty. It was as we were sitting in our clearing that I told him about my problem, everything I’d wanted to say but didn’t have the power to tell it, twirling a flower I’d picked earlier near the willow tree between my fingers.
“Where have you been all my life?”
I knew this was a stupid question to ask, but I felt this so strongly, I couldn’t hold it back. I knew the answer clearly, but something in my heart wanted me to let him know.
“Why couldn’t you have been born the same time I did? Then we would’ve known each other when you were alive…”
“What are you getting at?”
He was previously on the far end of the clearing inspecting a worm burrow its way through the ground beneath the grass, and the second he said this, I felt him settle next to me. Then, out of nowhere, I became angry, and I threw the flower on the ground. I shot up and stomped on it, not bothering to look at him. I moved away from him.
“What’s wrong?”
“You shouldn’t have come up to me that day. You should’ve just let me leave. Why didn’t you just let me alone?”
I crossed my arms, my eyes narrowed and gathering a fair bit of moisture. I stayed resilient.
“What are you talking about? I love you, that’s why! And you love me too!”
His voice was raised, slightly hysteric, and I felt him behind me, the cold prickling the back of my neck. I could feel the icy electricity in the atmosphere, and I turned back to him with mad eyes.
“Why did you have to subject me to this… pain! Whenever I try to touch you, my hand falls empty and frozen instead of the warmth I’m supposed to feel! I can’t even kiss you, Danny! I don’t even know what your lips are supposed to feel like! Having this love all cooped up inside me, but I can’t even express it the way I want to, and it hurts!”
I was crying now, but I didn’t care. I was hurting so much, he had no idea.
“It’s all your fault! You shouldn’t have asked me to be your friend in the first place! None of this would’ve happened! I wouldn’t have developed these feelings for you, I wouldn’t have hurt this bad! I was finally accepting my life as an outcast, but you had to come along and-and-ruin everything!”
I was very near yelling, and my voice echoed around the area, as cold his body. He stared at me in incredulity, blue eyes dilated.
“Do you think I like this any more that you do? I was finally content about being dead! All I wanted was a friend, Tom, a friend! Someone I could talk to, someone I could share my life with, someone to listen to me! I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t fall in love anymore, but I didn’t want to be lonely at the same time! I didn’t plan to love you! But when you came along, you made me want to live again… You gave me a tantalizing hunger that I couldn’t satisfy! I wanted to be alive so I could hold you in my arms, so I could feel your skin, so I could feel your lips against mine! And when you told me you love me, you just made that hunger grow! I may be dead, Tom, but I can still feel emotions!”
I stood as dumbstruck as I had our first meeting, and the tears rolled down my cheeks in gallons. So who was really to blame? Me or him? I didn’t know. But something occurred to me as we stared at each other, his face struggling to produce tears his corporeality prevented, the front of my shirt accumulating so much water, I could feel it through the fabric.
“I have to choose, don’t I?”
The comment confused him; I saw it in his face. It was true. I had to make a choice. I couldn’t go on living like this, and I knew what I had to do.
“What do you mean?”
His voice was unsure; he was scared. Scared of what I was about to disclose to him, scared of the mystery that enshrouded my every word. The fear of the unknown, everyone called it, and that’s what he was experiencing at that moment. How did I know this? I could see it in his eyes. Always, I could see in his eyes whatever he was feeling, and this time was no different.
“I have to choose between living and you.”
He shook his head furiously, that trepidation materializing in his face as if he had just seen something truly horrifying.
“No! No, Tom, you don’t have to make that choice! You can still go on living! You can still turn things around, you don’t have to-”
It was my turn to shake my head. No, I couldn’t go on like this, not without him in my arms, or me in his, not without feeling his body, not without feeling his warmth, not without all the good things that came with love. I was conscious of my decision, and I didn’t care for the repercussions. I refused to live the rest of my life as an outsider, a nobody. I wanted to be someone’s somebody, his somebody, and as I looked into his fear-drenched eyes, I was adamant. Nothing could persuade me. Not even leaving my family behind. I wanted him more than I could ever want them. I wanted him more than I could ever want anything in the world. I advanced and stopped inches from him, attention fixed on him and nothing else, and the next words left my lips in a whisper.
“I choose you.”