Dreams On Fire || ✓

Chapter 2

Date: 25th July, 2016.

I'm sitting on my window seat, my stuffed penguin besides me (I LOVE PENGUINS, OHMYGOD) and I can't stop listening to Wrapped Around Your Finger. Like, that's an all time favourite, so goooood.

"Still wrapped around you goddamn finger."
- Michael Clifford

UNEDITED

Luke roamed in the empty alleys in the raunchy parts of the city, thinking.

What he didn't understand was, why him?

Why couldn't he just go straight to heaven or hell or wherever he was supposed to go to after his death?

He was dead but he still had to exist, and that sucked.

He walked around, kicking the pebbles, hands shoved deep into the black hoodie he had on.

When Luke looked up from his worn out Converse, he saw the freaked out faces of the people and it was only then he realised they couldn't see Luke, they could only see the flying pebbles.

He sighed and murmured a quick 'sorry' only to realise they couldn't hear him either which made him miserable.

It was dark already and everyone was rushing home, their bodies covered with layers of clothes and there Luke was, a loner in this world, standing in his black skinny jeans and a hoodie which he didn't even require.

He walked all around the city whole night, trying to figure out who was he, or how did being a ghost work.

So far, he had come to the conclusion that he was extremely cold and even if his touch ghosted (oh, the irony) over someone, they felt extreme pain.

A few hours later, Luke laid on his bed, in his house with his eyes closed listening to the soft music flowing from Jack's room.

It was a bonus that they had the same taste in music.

It was so unfortunate that nobody could see Luke and now he couldn't talk to anyone. He knew that he  wasn't a big talker but oh boy, he did miss having people to talk to as it got so lonely.

The blonde didn't know how did being a ghost work but he desperately wanted to figure it out. God knows how long he would be stuck like this.

With a slight groan, Luke flipped onto his stomach and rested his chin on his lanky, folded hands.

He scanned the room and settled his calculating gaze on one of the books lying around.

Hm, reading didn't sound too bad to him.

With all the concentration he could muster, he thought about bringing the book towards himself, on the bed. When nothing happened, he glared at the book and a frustrated sigh left Luke's plump lips.

Wasn't being a ghost supposed to be remotely cool?

After a few seconds, Luke tried again as he had absolutely nothing better to do. This time, he gawked at the book with such an intensity that it moved slightly.

An excited giggled escaped his mouth and with his eyes shining with fascination, Luke tried again.

This time, the book floated in the air slightly but fell down on the carpeted floor with a small thud within a second. The sound echoed around the room and he sucked in a sharp breath.

How funny that Luke still reacted in such a way when he didn't even need to breathe (but still did anyways).

That is what he did for the next few hours. His legs swung back and forth in the air and a small pout adorned his face while he tried to move things from one place to another with the help of his brain. It was fun, to be honest.

At first, it was difficult and tedious and boring but after a while when Luke got a hang of it, it was quite fun and amusing.

At least, he had a single ghost superpower.

Subsequently, when the high wore off, Luke was left alone in his crumpled sheets thinking about the boys.

What were they feeling?

Have they left their house since he died?

How are they dealing with all this?

He exhaled a small puff of air and felt his chest tighten when he thought about them.

At times like these, Luke hated that he couldn't cry and let everything out.

The feeling of nostalgia was overwhelming.

Luke hated that he couldn't be weak.

He hated that nobody could see him and he couldn't vent.

At times like these, Luke hated being him.

He let out soft sobs that racked his whole body but not a single tear was shed. He felt like he was being ripped apart, piece by piece and there was nothing he could do about it, except scream at the agonising pain he felt in my chest.

He could do absolutely nothing other than feel pain and wait for everything to just end.

He could do nothing but stare as the world around him was crumbling down.

• • • • •

Guys, guys, guys (i don't care if you're a girl or a boy, imma call all of you guys) Dreams on Fire is on #749 in Fanfiction and holy shit, thank you because it was like on #935 when I had checked it yesterday so THANK YOU!

All the love,
Pia xx