Again, Once More.

Chapter 1

Art by (Skeleton boy — down2thebone.tumblr.com)

                   💀💀💀

Nervously a skeleton, walked around a room, his shoes clicking on the wooden shiny floors. His new arrival was somewhat surprising.

Okay, it was extremely unexpected. And the way the boy showed up as well sent shivers down his spine. The sight had chilled him to the bone

The arrival was sleeping soundly on a couch in the corner of the white room. Tension was in the air and building around this skeleton. Something about his arrival was so oddly familiar to him.

A boy, short in height and had dark brown hair that maybe could be mistaken for black in a distance.

Finally the skeleton decided to sit down, it didn't help that the computers were down today. So they couldn't get the phone number to call his family. Whomever that family was, exactly.

"Hmn," A voice started the short  skeleton. Suddenly he heard a shriek of confusion and he instantly knew who it was making the noise.

"Ah! I see you are awake! Please come over and..take...a...seat?" His words slowly began trailing off as the boy looked into his eyes. No. It wasn't right? It couldn't be who he was thinking of, right?

"L-Living boy?" He scolded himself after saying that. Hesitantly the boy nodded walking over, unsteadily and plopping down of the wooden chair. He resembled a baby dear when he walked.

Miguel looked around the room, he has been here before and he knew that. They both knew that.

Silence crept among the two. One staring at the other in complete pity, the other looking away in shame.

Why did he feel shame and guilt? That was a question he sadly could not answer. Maybe he'd come to an conclusion later.

Awkwardly Miguel cleared his throat and looked at the other timidly. Slightly surprised to see such a stern gaze, as he saw it however, he made himself look the opposite way.

"You were only here what maybe a year and a half ago?" The small skeleton asked, his voice quiet.

Miguel nodded, unsure of how to pursue the conversation.

"How old are you and what is your whole name, amigo?" His voice was gentle, not pushy nor forceful. Miguel paused for a moment.

"Mi llamo Miguel Rivera y trece años." Quietly, he whispered in response. Most of his attention was else were. His mind refused to think of the situation. So his eyes stared at everything in the room, a childlike personality  shining from him.

Never did he notice that the walls were bordered by hand-painted skeleton heads. Something about them made him wear a small smile. 'Hand-painted, huh?' He thought seeming more amused than he should be.

"So..erm," The other cleared his throat, the sudden speech startling Miguel. Though he realised it was nothing and smiled at the other. Once more, he received that same stern gaze.

Tearing into his soul. Trying to figure him out. But what exactly was there to figure out? Miguel pondered what the other was trying to find.

"You haven't talked that much, like the first time you came here that is." The statement caught Miguel off-guard and the other realised and gave a sheepish smile. "Ah! Sorry, just deep in thought."

Smiling, Miguel nodded understanding where the other was coming from. However, what he said gnawed at his head a little. Was he really that quiet? He hadn't really thought about talking.