Boo-Ya

2/7: In Good Spirits

Living with a ghostly roommate has ups and downs.

At first, the positive is that they do not leave their things out. How could they, they do not own anything, after all.

They don't leave dirt behind where they step either, because they softly float a slight inch at a closer look.

The bad is that they don't shut up when you try to concentrate. And blending them out is also impossible because they just appear and disappear at the edges of your vision and make you question your nervous self.

It isn't like he is the only thing in the corner of Maven's mind. But he is the most formed and the nicest.

"We need to talk," he decides to pin down. His laptop blinks but he closes the windows as soon as Thomas is close, a cold sigh surrounding them. He doesn't care to explain trying to find out about a death in the house. Which is hard to pinpoint without a name or anything that proves that Thomas existed once. Maybe, he really never has. "You cannot just walk in my room, whatever you are. At least not all the time."

"Hol' up!" Thomas puffs out and crosses his arms, watching over Maven's desk. "Do you still think I am not a ghost, my dude?"

Maven closes the laptop with a snap. "Some days I do, and I feel very silly."

Thomas isn't having it. He shakes the silhouette of his dark hair and head. "I can prove it. Come on."

And because this will otherwise consume more time and nerves. Maven stands up and follows.

Evidence one leads up the stairs instead of down.

"My dad renovated this house, I was supposed to help."

Maven takes a small leap over the threshold of the last stair leading up into the highest point of the house.

"Thomas you are sixteen, you really need perspective," Thomas aims at a low patronizing stance and lifts his finger. Maven furrows his brow. "But like, I didn't. I just hang out."

That is the first solid family information Maven has received. It makes the time frame even easier to pin down. If there is anything about a dead sixteen year old with a name that's traceable, he will be able to find it.

The attic is a broad space, long rows loaded with belongings. IT has been cleaned up before they moved in. Maven doesn't expect to find a secret chest with Thomas' most precious belongings.

A few rays of light dance through the side windows, the shadow of the panels throw shadows as long as spears.

Thomas just saunters forward, leaping into the air like a frog, staring up at the wooden beams above their heads. Maven is surprised that he never really hits the ground, he doesn't get used to this, the slightest floating, but the fact he makes no sounds at all is preferable. He would make tons of it otherwise, and Maven doesn't care to explain jumping on the attic.

"Look up," Thomas points to a wooden beam over their heads. Maven has to crane his neck sideways, and even then it takes a long, long time to see the silent, small carving at the side of the wood. It's pretty well hidden in between the nook of the wood and the upgoing roof.

THOMAS ☆ CAMERON

The handwriting is neat, nothing out of the regular, although everything is a little wonky and withered.

For a stinging, strange second the words in the wood blur. It isn't surprising someone as charming as Thomas attracted someone or that he had friends or more.

But putting a name into a piece of wood somewhere is an outdated practice of promising that a person left a trace on someone's world. It's a cheesy promise. At least there is not a heart around the names. Just the resemblance of a star forced in between the names.