Ghost ⇔ Cake ✓

Five: First Impressions

The boy sat oblivious to Luke and Michael's stares, looking down at his feet covered in Vans. His long, dark fingers drummed a rhythm on his thighs, the train's motion making him sway to keep balance. He sat alone. Nobody seemed to be surprised by his presence except for Luke and Michael.

Luke watched him for a few more moments before turning away. His knuckles were white from where they grasped the metal rod.

"It's not him," Luke said. Michael lifted his eyes to meet Luke's. "It can't be, Michael. Calum is dead. We saw his body."

For once, Michael's flame seemed to burn out. "I know. I know it's not him. But-- fuck. It looks like him. There isn't one thing different."

They both turned and looked at the boy again. He was now leaning back against the hard subway seat, his eyes shut and his arms behind his head. His legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. Luke didn't know what to say. He felt like his heart was as loud as the wheels against the subway track, throbbing in his chest like it was bursting to come out. His tongue felt swollen. His eyes blurred.

Michael set his jaw. "We've got to talk to him."

"Are you serious?" Luke managed to say. Michael just glared at him.

"What are we supposed to do?"

"Why does doing something have to include talking to him?" asks Luke.

"Why do you keep answering my questions with questions?" Michael fired back. Luke set his lips in a grim line and looked back at the boy. He hadn't moved since they last watched him. Luke's heart continued thudding against his ribcage. He didn't know what to do.

Finally, Michael cursed colorfully under his breath and let go of the metal pole, moving across the aisle towards the boy. Luke followed closely on his heels. He watched Michael's shoulders instead of the boy as they walked over, tense and rigid under his flannel shirt.

They stopped. Luke stared at his feet until he had the nerve to look up. When he did, his heart stopped.

The boy hadn't noticed them yet. But this close, it was even harder for Luke to imagine this boy being anyone other than Calum Hood. Everything was the same, down to the cowlick that curled beside his right ear. Luke's heart pumped painfully slow. He felt like his body was draining of blood, and that was even before the boy looked up.

His brown eyes met Luke's. Luke felt electric.

The boy's eyebrows knit together. "Sorry," he said, and curled his legs back up to his seat. He crossed his arms and turned his cheek the other way. When they didn't move, the boy turned to look at them again. "Can I help you?"

"Who are you?" Luke asked immediately. The boy looked aghast. He slowly sat up and pulled his hoodie back a few inches so he could see them better.

The boy said slowly, "I suppose I could ask you the same thing." A few seconds passed, and then he spoke again. "I'm going to ask you a second time, because it seems necessary. Can I help you?"

"You don't recognize us?" asked Luke. The boy blinked at him and shook his head.

"No. Should I?" the boy said. "I just moved here. I don't recognize anybody."

Luke turned his shoulder, his ears burning red with either anger or unhappiness. He heard the boy shift in the train seat, his clothing ruffling. Then he said, "Well. My name's Calum, for the record. This was a weird exchange of conversation. But all the same-- it was nice talking to you."

Luke's blood runs cold, because there were two things very wrong with what the boy just said. First, was that he said his name was Calum. Calum wasn't exactly a common name. It only ensured that it was him. That he was dead, but now he wasn't dead, or is he? Luke's head became muffled. He thought he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.