Ghost Boy

💔Nineteen💔

Sydney's Pov

I was in the living room finding a cartoon movie for me and Gus to watch when I heard something drop in the kitchen. I walked in there and seen Gus had dropped a bag of chips.

"Gus? Are you okay?"

He started to groan in pain on the floor and I started to smile.

"Wait a minute? Is this you trying to get me back for this morning?" "N-No. It hurts." "Ah. Yeah you are. You're totally trying to get me back."

He sat up on his knees and grabbed me by my arms. When he looked up at me his eyes were pitch black and there were black veins forming on his neck. Coming up towards his face.

"I'm not kidding."

I started to wonder what I should do as he fell back to the floor in pain. Yelling in agony. Then I seen blood forming on the back of his shirt.

"Gus.." "What?!" "There's b-blood on your shirt." "Pull it...up.."

He screamed and was crying at the same time. I pulled the shirt up and there were slits forming so deep in his back the blood started dripping all over the floor. Then before I knew it these huge, black wings came right out of his back. I fell back from how big they were but I wasn't afraid. Once they were all the way out Gus was breathing heavily and he was shaking. I got next to him hoping he was still okay.

"Gus?.." "I'm..s-s-sorry if I...scared you.." "You didn't. Are you okay?" "I th-think so."

I went to the sink to get him a cup of water. I didn't even know if it'd work but I brought it to him anyway. I helped him sit up properly and held the cup for him while he drank. When he was done I set the cup on the table.

"Come on. We'll get you upstairs so you can lay down and rest." "I can lay on the couch.." "No you're not. And I'm gonna need you to help me a bit because I'm kinda small.."

I put his arm around my shoulder and after some time passed I had finally got him upstairs. When we got into my room I laid him down on my bed and he groaned a little bit. I caught my breath and went to sit down in my corner chair. When he seen me sit down he tried getting back up.

"I won't take your bed.."

I ran towards him and started to lay him back down.

"You lay down. Get some rest. I'll be fine. I've got extra blankets in a closet in the hallway." "You don't have to do this...you didn't sign up for this.." "I don't care Gus. And I thought I should let you know..your wings are beautiful. I've never seen anything so magnificent. Well..I have..but only on the show Lucifer on Netflix."

He laughed a little bit which made me smile.

"You're too nice to me Sydney." "Well yeah..I care about you.."

I started to play with his hair a bit and he sighed but in a good way.

"Can you...read that poem to me?.." "Of course I can. Lemme get the notebook."

I got it from underneath my bed and opened up to the one I was going to read.

Gustav's Pov

Sydney got ready to read her poem and I turned towards her to make sure she knew that I was paying attention.

'Pride.

Pride is a powerful thing.

A word meaning a bunch of different things to a bunch of different people.

For me pride is in my creativity.

My music. My books. My art. My poetry.

Everything I've done, I've done it with grace and in everything I've done I've found my pride.

I wish that some people understood it.
Sometimes I wish that someone cared.

But I guess if I care it doesn't matter what other people may think.

I am strong willed, strong minded and nothing could stop me from my prideful goals.

I am a person. A prideful person like anyone else.

The difference is that I do the things I take pride in for myself.

What defines my pride?

Well let's take a look and see.

There's my musical pride.

This pride defines me the most.

The way I can find my loudest voice through rhyming words and a beat found from nowhere.

The music defines me most but about this people care the least.

But what should that matter if this is majority of my pride?

Then there's books.

Books are superstitious worlds that authors create for the readers pleasure.

I am one of those authors that creates those worlds.

And why shouldn't I be prideful in that?

If I weren't prideful in it then why would I be writing them?

We then move on from that and speak on the pride of art.

A pride that involves so much creativity that everything else outside of it seems irrelevant.

This is pride that plays on people's way of thinking.

How people perceive things.

I love the intellectual balance of thinking and feeling with this pride.

Everyone's prideful in something and in pride we are the only ones who need to care.

Because being prideful in something is neither here nor there.

Pride keeps us safe and sometimes is perceived in a dangerous image.

But my pride will take me far as long as I keep myself vintage.'

As she said every word it was like music to my ears. I was so tired but she made me feel so awake.

"That was amazing." "Thank you. Now get some sleep, okay?" "Okay..again..I'm really sorry about your kitchen and-." "Stop it. You're apologizing for nothing. It's fine."

I smiled tiredly and she played with some of my hair again. I then started to close my eyes and before I knew it, I had fallen into sleep.