After their tragic, untimely death, rivals Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland are trapped following their little brothers around.
Life as a ghost is emotionally jarring, as they soon discover, and it's driving them together in a way nothing ever...
Exactly twelve hours had passed since it clicked into their heads what was going on. Francis had zipped upstairs to Matthew's room instantly and hadn't returned since. Arthur had been watching Alfred make calls all afternoon and had grown tired of it all. It had finally sunk in that he was dead but it hadn't sunk in that this was permanent. He hadn't yet realized the effect this would have in everybody around him. Alfred finally finished his calls and looked worn. He stumbled into the living room and fell onto the couch, closing his eyes and falling asleep instantly. Without knowing what to do, Arthur wandered upstairs to check on Francis and Matthew. They were in his room, obviously. He was going to open the door but his hand went through the knob. "Let's just see if this'll work." He muttered to himself, stepping forward and through the board in front of him. It felt tingly all across his skin, like an electrical shock, but less intense. Both of them were lying on Matthew's bed, Matthew sleeping and Francis just lying there watching him. He looked drained. "Francis?" Arthur took another step forward, trying to be careful in case Francis snapped. But his only response was to burst into tears. "Whoa, hey, what are you doing!" Arthur panicked. Francis sobbed some more, everything that had happened coming down on him at once. "God, you're a ninny. Stop bloody cry-" Arthur stopped himself. Why was he going around insulting Francis at a time like this. He approached Francis and sat down on he bed beside him. He had learned that if they thought they were supposed to be sitting on something when they say on it, they wouldn't go through. "'e's 'urting and I can't 'elp 'im." Francis whispered softly once the tears went down. "I'm right 'ere but 'e doesn't know. It's zhe worst feeling I've ever 'ad." "I wish I could say the same, but it hasn't kicked in on Alfred yet. It probably never will." Arthur sighed and put his hand on Francis's shoulder. "This is hopeless." The Frenchman croaked (no pun intended). "We shouldn't dwell on this. We have to figure out what to do? As far as I know, we're stuck like this together until we find peace." "I was peaceful being alive. Why can't we go back to zhat?" "Because we're fucking dead, Francis!" Arthur shouted. "Don't be whiny if you're only going to be able to talk to me!" This only made Francis cry harder. Arthur scoffed and stormed out of the room.
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