Ghost ⇔ Cake ✓

One: Calum's Funeral

A/N: as most of you know by now this is a murder mystery 5sos fanfic! for anyone who might be rereading: NO SPOILERS DONT DO IT OKAY DONT I'll be sad. that's all thanks

Luke Hemmings stood at the front of the church, his hands clasped in front of him, knuckles white, fingers bruised.

Beside him stood two boys, dressed in the same black suit and tie as him. Michael, a boy almost as tall as Luke with dyed red hair, stood with his arms crossed, jaw clenching and unclenching. He shifted restlessly from foot to foot, eyes moving around the pews as though looking for something he lost. Luke didn't make a move to touch him. Michael was all fire and anger, and touching him could cause mass destruction.

Next to Michael was Ashton. Ashton was a little shorter but nonetheless taller than the average high school boy population. He chewed on his lip and let his hands dangle by his sides, occasionally moving them around with no purpose. Ashton's hands never seemed to belong anywhere. He kept glancing at Luke and Michael, and then he would swivel back to look at the pews of people in black moving into the church.

Luke had never seen so many people wearing black in one room before. He wondered if any of them really were mourning for who was dead in that coffin, or if they were just wearing black because, really, everyone is mourning for someone. Or something.

Luke glanced at the family standing at the very front of the church. A mother and father, all weepy and weak-kneed. A sister, tears swelling in her eyes, but she blinked repeatedly to keep them from falling. Luke, Michael, and Ashton didn't stand there with them. They weren't family. Not blood related, anyway, but anyone who knew him knew that he was closer to the three of them than he ever was with his family. Everyone knew that.

Nobody came and said their condolences. Luke was glad. Michael would have probably punched them if they had.

Michael stirred for the first time, staring as people began sitting down. He didn't bother leaning in as he said, "Which one of these bastards killed Calum, do you think?"

Ashton immediately jumped at Michael's words, but he didn't say anything. As usual.

"Keep your mouth shut. This isn't the time or place," Luke said. Michael shrugged.

"When is?"

"Maybe when we're all not standing at his funeral. Calum wouldn't want us talking about who killed him when we're all supposed to be mourning him," said Luke. Michael narrowed his eyes. His green eyes looked even more vicious for a moment.

"I'm going to kill whoever killed him. I'll kill them," Michael said. Ashton looked at him. His eyebrows pinched together.

Before anyone could say anything else, a preacher stood at the front of the church, and Calum's family retreated back to their spot on the front pew. Luke sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. The other boys followed. The preacher waited as everyone took their seats, and then he raised his arms.

"Today, we are joined here in mourning for Calum Thomas Hood."

Calum's mother let out a sob. Mali, the sister, comforted her. Luke kept his eyes up front, hardly blinking. In his head, he saw Calum's face, always watching, always smiling, always right there by Luke's side. The empty spot beside Luke on the pew felt even more vacant today.

Something changed in Ashton's face. He looked even more miserable, as if it were possible, as he stared not at the preacher but toward the back of the church, where behind the closed doors awaited Calum's wooden casket.

When they did bring out the casket, a silent hush fell over the church. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Michael didn't turn to look at it, instead staring angrily ahead at the white carnations that decorated the front of the church. Luke watched the boys settle the casket at the front of the church. He stared at it. Calum is in there. He's dead and lying in that coffin.