Duelist Yesterday, Tomorrow's Rockstar!

Meeting a Rock Star!

Honestly, he had no idea how long it had been since he talked to another human being. He had no idea when it even started, too. All he knew was that, suddenly, his day mostly consisted of snarling or glaring at the oblivious people either passing through or by him, not noticing him at all. While he remembered that not his days were once not usually spent like this, his actual recollection of what he did or what he was was foggy, like he had been missing glasses and wore earplugs while he experienced them.

He tried to remember more clearly every day, hoping figments of his memory would help him puzzle together how he ended up in this predicament. All he remembered clearly, however, were the words "duel" and "best", a flash of yellow, green and black and wanting to feel a seething hatred whenever he thought of the color red and chocolate-brown. That was all.

He didn't even know if he could call it pathetic, was the problem. He had no idea how long it had been, so he was unable to measure if the number of things he remembered from his past life was little or much.

Watching in silent rage as laughing teenagers passed, their age about the same as the ghostly form of himself he sometimes saw mirrored in the glass of the windows, he gritted his teeth. It just wasn't fair.

He felt like he, or at least his ghostly appearance, did not look too shabby. His black hair was spiky and curled from his neck to his forehead in a perfect mess, strands of hair pointing in all directions. They were matching the cold and dark grey of his eyes, standing in contrast to his deathly pale, white skin. His shirt and coat, which was missing sleeves he felt like, also shared the color black, only his pants had the color deep jeans-blue, while his shoes were a mix of cold grey and black.

Sometimes, he just stood in front of a window and mused how a handsome guy like him was a ghost while boring people were able to converse and be happy all time, making him a tad miserable. But most of the times, he decided that was just how life is, that he should accept it and get over it. Only to ask himself those same questions the next day. And answer them the same way. Because, well, he just didn't have anything better to do.

And here he was again. Wondering why this girl could talk to her friend in such an uncaring manner while he was suffering like this. Angrily, he tried to strike her, but he knew his hand would just pass through her and the freshly hot and still steaming crêpe in her hand.

The sight of it actually made his mouth water slightly, well, as much as it was possible for a ghost, that is. While he distinctly remembers those things to be "tasty" he also somewhat recalled that one only has to eat when they were hungry. And he wasn't hungry. Didn't change the fact that he yearned for a simple "tasty" snack in his mouth, just to remember how it was like, to eat something "tasty".

With a glare filled with envy, he watched the girls' retreating backs, the one with the crêpe biting into it as her eyes widened and she started fanning air into her mouth, the crêpe still too hot for her taste. Her female friend just giggled.

Slightly pouting, he turned away from them, acknowledging that staring only made him more miserable as it is, trying to focus on something, anything else.

His eyes found another boy presumably about his age, sharing most of his colors as he wore only black. However, short, dark-blue hair peeking out underneath his cap and shining lilac eyes distinguished the one from another, ignoring his ghostly skin and ghostly being in general.

The human boy had several piercings on his ear, all of them flashing silver in the light of the sun. His earrings were a simple design really, just silver rings on both of his earlobes. His cap was deep black, just like his shirt and pants, both of the latter having several small, intentional cuts and holes, showing little golden skin beneath the clothing. His feet looked relatively small on the black shoes, matching his general slimness. The ghost was able to count three feathers of an unknown bird to him hanging from the stranger's hair, swaying slightly as he continued walking down the other side of the street.