" Cigarette Daydream...
You were only 17, so sweet with a mean streak
Nearly brought me to my knees"
--------------------------
In which
A goofy ghost boy tries
to
cheer up his sad ghost girl
.• TW- mature themes, gore, self-harm, mental...
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"Haven't I given enough, given enough?"
.••.
No one's pov
If you were to tell Reese McKay that she'd be spending the rest of her [After] life in high school, she would've called you "fucking delusional".
But, here she was stuck in what she likes to call "a pubescent purgatory".
The ginger girl learned how to make the most out of her "prolonged stay", spending most of her days, lounging around the old art room, in which she'd immerse he past self.
Her "Alive" self
She'd spend every morning, lunch, and evening in that mothball-smelling room, and if she went there. She could be found hanging around with the other spirits that resided within the school or perhaps laying on the football field, attempting to soak in some of that good old Vitamin D.
It had been early in the morning when Reese heard about the new poor-and-unfortunate soul that was now trapped here. Did she care much?
Not really... so, she stuck to what she did best, painting.
Reese had been up for a couple of hours, working on her new piece. She could tell it was early in the morning by the way the sun was peeking through the trees. Soon after, she heard a firm knock, causing her to whip her head toward the open door.
" Hey, Just letting you know Mr. Martins starting soon." An all too familiar voice said to the Ginger haired girl.
Reese would be lying if she said she wasn't a little happy with how things turned out, but only a little. If she hadn't died, she wouldn't have ever gotten the chance to Meet Wally Clark.
She and the Clark boy had been an item for over 20 years. He was the peanut butter to her jelly, the beat to her dead heart, and as corny as that sounded, it was true. Every ghost at Split-River Highschool knew that Reese McKay and Wally Clark were a match made in the afterlife.
"Working on a new piece?" The Clark boy asked, gesturing toward the canvas. Slowly making his way toward her, snaking his arms around her waist, and placing his head on top of hers.
" More like attempting," she answered, leaning her head against his chest, studying the yet-to-be-filled canvas.
They both stood there for a minute staring at the piece, a comfortable silence overtaking them," Alrighty, let's get going, shall we?" She said breaking the silence, looking up at the, much taller, boy.
" Indeed, we shall," The Clark boy quipped, making his way to the door before holding it open. " M'Lady." He held the door open for the girl.
" you're such a goof" she chuckled, shoving her middle and pointer finger into his shoulder.
