Violet Heart

Violet was thumbing through the liner notes of her favourite album, The Queen is Dead, when there was a tentative rap on the door.

'Go away,' she called, pushing back a disobedient lock of hair and snapping a bubble with her gum.

'Violet?' came a soft voice. The door opened slowly and a brown eyed boy with messy blonde hair poked his head through the crack.

'Did I say you could come in?' she asked. Tate sighed.

'Can I please come in?' he asked, and her heart melted a little despite herself.

'Sure,' she said. He stepped in and she gasped. He was wearing a nice, if a bit shabby, tuxedo, with shoes so shiny you could see your reflection in them. Clutched in his hand was a small box.

'Tate,' she breathed, sitting up. 'You look awesome.'

He smiled, dimples appearing in his cheeks. 'Thank you,' he said. She patted the bed next to her and he bounded over, perching next to her and pulling her into a hug. He smelled good, like old burnished wood and citrus.

'What's the occasion?' she asked, resting her head on his chest.

'I know you've been feeling shitty lately, ever since you found out you're dead,' he said. She snorted.

'Yeah, it's not the best discovery,' she said, sarcasm dripping off her words.

'Right,' he said. 'So I have a surprise for you. But first, here.'

He held out the box to her.

'What is it?' she asked. It was a wooden box, carved with an ornate picture of Alice in Wonderland.

'Open it,' he said. She did. Inside was a beautiful silver heart-shaped locket.

'Oh, Tate,' she said, her eyes brimming with tears. He wrapped his arm around her.

'Do you like it?' he asked.

'I love it,' she said. He gently pushed her hair to one side and clasped it around her neck, cold skin on cold skin.

'There's no picture in it,' he said. 'Us ghosts, uh, don't tend to photograph well.'

She laughed and hugged him.

'That's OK,' she said. 'Why do I need a photograph when I can look at you for eternity?'

He took her hand and helped her up.

'Let's go downstairs,' he said. Running her fingers over the necklace, she followed him downstairs. The kitchen was in darkness, except for flickering candles of all shapes and sizes dotted on every surface. The long table was covered in a snow-white tablecloth and set with ornate silver dishes and cutlery. Moira, the maid, stood smiling at them, hands clasped.

'Welcome, dears,' she said. 'Your first course, butternut squash soup, will be served shortly. In the meantime, I'll pour a delicate cabernet.'

'Tate, what is all this?' asked Violet, her breath catching in her throat as she squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. He smiled at her, his face achingly beautiful in the candlelight.

'My chance at showing you what eternity can be like,' he said. He reached down to her and kissed her. When they parted, both their eyes were glassy with tears. Violet laughed.

'I think I'm going to like eternity.'