imaginary / muke a.u | c.

epilogue

Calum stared forlornly at the ground, ignoring how silent his best friend was at the news he's just broken.

"How... how can I not be real?" Michael asked, struggling with the concept.

"You died, Mikey," Calum replied.

He could still see Michael. He didn't know why. He knew the other boy wasn't real, so he should've been gone now. But he wasn't. It was just like Michael, to stay stubborn against all the evidence.

----

Michael paced around the hallways. He had left Calum alone after the other boy had told him the truth. He needed time to think - or did he? How did it even make sense? He could think, and feel, and hurt, and touch, and speak. How was it possible that he wasn't real? Even right now, Calum was somewhere else - so how was Michael here, alone?

How?

----

Luke sat alone in his living room. He was supposed to pick his daughter up from her mothers house in twenty minutes or so, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Calum had left an impact on him - and, inexplicably, so had Michael.

He knew that the boy had dyed-blue hair, and forest green eyes. He knew that he was shorter than both him and Calum. He knew that his smile lit up like a forest in a fire. He'd seen the pictures of the boy, and heard the way Calum talked about him, heard the way he described him.

And somehow, Luke had fallen in love with a dead boy he'd never even met.