If You Could See Me ≫ Niall Horan/Ghost

chapter two

ℐf Yøu ℂøuℓd Ṡee Ḿe

“The real question of life after death isn't whether or not it exists, but even if it does what problem this really solves.”  -- Ludwig Wittgenstein

***

The cementation feeling had not gone away. It now a heavy feeling that now settled in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down like lead. The telly continued on saying with the segment that had stilled Niall's body numb. 

He wasn't dead. How could he be dead? 

But then, what else could explain everything that was going on? His hand going through surfaces, people not even knowing his existence as he walked past them. The foggy gray seemed to hang still in the air, it surrounding everywhere he looked. 

He couldn't be dead. 

He pushed himself up on shaky arms, his head hanging low so his chin touched his chest. His head was now pounding, his gut swirling. Niall had held his breath, finding that it helped get rid of the cemented feeling where his lungs should be. 

If he was dead was this why he felt odd? 

He stood upright, looking around at the people that continued on with their lives. He noticed the lack of snow coats and people now wearing shorts. It wasn't December anymore, it was September. And according to the telly segment it was Niall's 20th birthday. He looked to the telly again, it now showing people gathering with candles and flowers, setting them down somewhere in the middle of a park. The image changed, it now showing more people doing the same thing, but this time the words London flashed across the bottom of the screen.

"It has been nine months since the dearly beloved boy band member has passed away. If he would have remained alive today he would have been 20 years old. Family and friends have created a Memorial service for him in his honor, as well as many dedicated fans around the world that show their gratitude towards the now deceased boy bander." 

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. The sensation of crying bolted up in the back of his throat but the tears never came. He ran his hands across his face, walking slowly forward deeper into the coffee shop. 

"Hello?" he called out pathetically, his voice breaking. Nobody in the coffee shop looked up, them continuing on with their conversations, some ordering coffee, some on their laptops. Either way they where completely ignoring him. 

They couldn't see him. 

He was really dead.

He was dead.

Niall let out a scream.

*~*

Deep in the park where the body of Niall Horan had been found early one morning in December 2012, a vigil was being held. Hundreds, if not thousands, of mournful, weeping girls, and boys a like, came from all over to pay tribute. A collection of roses and frames filled with pictures of the boy bands faces had littered the grassy area like rocks after a landslide.

It was strange, the aura around them all. There were hardly any whispers among the large crowd, them all silent in vigil, collectively giving their respects. Even joggers on their early mornings, ones who hadn't even been a fan of the boy band, even turned down their music to pay tribute to the collection of sorrowful youth. 

But just as much as their was the living crowding around the collection of trinkets and picture frames, there was also the dead themselves. 

The aura was strong among the living, a slight shade of darker gray, hanging dense around them like a fog. But to even the haze of The Other Side, the dead could very well see that this place was a place of mourning.