{Canceled} Science, Friendship, Ghosts And....Romance?

The Ghosts That Stole Saturday Night

It had been a month since Ford and Fiddleford became friends. The two had gotten used to eachothers habits and schedules. They worked together well, all things considered. Though they still had more than the occasional disagreement.

~

Ford sat on his bed and reread his algebra textbook for what seemed like the hundredth time this week. It was Saturday night. Fiddleford laid on the bed reading some science fiction book.

Ford yawned and threw the book across the bed with a groan. He then got out of the bed and went over to the door, grabbing his jacket on his way over.

"Where're you goin' partner?" Fiddleford took his eyes off his book and starred directly at Ford who was slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Out." He answered quickly and began to open the door but was stopped by Fiddleford who stood up and was already at the door before he could finish answering the question.

"That's not really a answer, Stanford." Fiddleford raised his eyebrow. "It's awful late to be goin' out. Especially for you."

Ford rolled his eyes at that last sentence. "Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Maybe I don't want to just stay here all alone. Or, maybe, I don't want ya to get in trouble." Fiddleford smiled a little.

"I'm not going to get in trouble and if you don't want to be alone, go out, get drunk or high." He was in a very grumpy mood and had no idea as to why.

"Woah there, buckaroo, I'm not that stupid. What's your deal?" Fiddleford was now incredibly annoyed. "Oooh, I see. You're exhausted. Go to bed."

"No. I am not exhausted, nor am I a child that needs to be bossed around." Ford left the room, followed by Fiddleford.

"I'd beg a differ." Fiddleford rolled his eyes and unwelcomly followed Ford down the empty halls of the college dorm building. They ended up in a completely unlit hall that appeared as if no light at all was reaching the walls or floor. It was dusty and covered is cobwebs. It was like no one had been there in ages. "Okay, what the ever lovin' heck Stanford?"

"Language." Ford cracked a few glowsticks, handing one to Fiddleford. He also had a flashlight but wanted to punish Fiddleford for following him.

"Look, it's not like I doubt this forsaken school but, I'm completely lost." Fiddleford squinted, trying to see in the dark as best as possible. "What are we doing?"

"I mean it was supposed to just be me but," Ford sighed. "I'm looking for ghosts." He was expecting laugter and criticism but all he got was the sound of fabric moving as Fiddleford shurgged his shoulders.

"Well, alright." Fiddleford yawned. "Sounds like fun."

"Wait," Ford stopped in his tracks. "You don't think it's weird? You know, ghosts?" He was intensly confused.

"I mean, sure, I don't believe in 'em but if you do who am to judge." Fiddleford rubbed his nose before stretching his arms to the side. "We all got our beliefs, so what if they're different."

"Oh." Ford was really suprised, Fiddleford was such a nice person, if not occasionally aggravating, it was different. "Okay." Ford pulled out two actual flashlights and handed one to Fiddleford.

"Wait, you had flashlights but gave me a glowstick?" Fiddleford asked, incredibly annoyed but also mildly amused.

"What? I had to punish you some how." Ford gave a mischievous smirk to his friend who promptly flipped him off. "I suppose I deserved that."