Gone? USUK

Chapter 6: Beauty Is Dead

"You don't have to tell us what happened to you, if you don't want to," I promise, observing the distraught look on the poor boy's face. Who would murder someone so seemingly sweet and extremely adorable?

His gaze shifts to me, and once again, I find myself caught off guard by the pure emotion and wisdom in his eyes. It's as if he's older than he looks, which is probable -- considering I don't know how long he's been dead.

"Thank you," he murmurs, a soft smile returning to his features. Why do all of his smiles seem so utterly depressed? He can't possibly be always sad.

"This is not how I thought the night would go, in all honesty," Gilbert mutters. His comment makes me chuckle. I didn't expect it to take this turn either.

Arthur chuckles awkwardly. "My apologies. I didn't expect you lads to summon me, though."

"That's what we did?" I ask. "I thought that it was just a means to communicate, the board."

He nods. "Well, it is, but it's actually both, which is why you never ask if just anyone is there. Always ask for someone specific. That's how demons can get to you."

"That's really scary," Antonio whines, wrapping his arms around a nearly annoyed Francis as he shivers in terror.

Arthur nods in agreement.

"Well," the Frenchman says, letting loose a posh yawn that makes me grin in amusement. "As exciting as this is, I want to sleep. We've found out the source of your haunting, so I'm going to go to sleep now." He turns around with a flaming homosexual swagger (despite the fact that I strictly believe he is global-sexual) and starts to blow out his fruity candles.

Chuckling, I feel the yawn become contagious and let loose an embarrassingly wide one of my own. "Yeah, maybe we should go to bed. We can finish talking and stuff tomorrow. Do ghosts even sleep?"

Arthur grins at us. "Yes, actually. Souls, which is all ghosts are, need to rejuvenate too."

"Wait," Gilbert asks. "Then why does lots of ghost activity happen at night?"

Arthur shrugs. "Not all people sleep at night, and a lot of the times we're forced to relive our lives, which can affect your dimension as well. I'm not sure how or why, though."

"That's actually really cool," I whisper in awe, making the adorable ghost smile bashfully. "Do you sleep?"

He nods. "Yeah, and sometimes when you'll hear noises it's me having dreams."

"What do you dream about?" I ask curiously. I really do want to know, in all honesty. I think the idea of a ghost having dreams is poetic in a sense.

"My life as it was before I died. It's mostly me getting ready in the morning or reading a book I enjoyed once. It's some of the little things, but they aren't always good things." His face grows somber once more, and as if his emotions affect his surroundings, the room takes on a chilling lonely feeling.

I give him a sympathetic smile, almost reaching out to touch him in order to give him comfort. I find myself wishing I could touch the boy in front of me.

I clear my throat awkwardly, hoping no one noticed my small slip up. Judging by the solemn yet teasing stare from Gilbert he did, but thankfully, he doesn't acknowledge it.

"Goodnight!" Antonio says sweetly, smiling at all of us before trotting off to the couch he's deemed as his bed for the night. 

Gilbert chuckles and heads over to the chair in the corner of the room, plopping down in it lazily and starting to get comfortable. With a sigh and a tired glance to the ghost, I start towards the stairs, secretly liking the fact that Arthur follows me. When I get to my room, I eagerly fall onto my bed, but then something crosses my mind.

"Arthur," I ask, turning over onto my back and propping myself on my elbows while the Brit floats noiselessly in the middle of the room. "Were you the one that painted this?" I gesture to the room and await an answer. His wounds have disappeared, too, and I can't help but stare at his cute face.

He smiles shyly, the small amount of pride leaking through. "Yes, I did. It took me quite a while, though." His voice is a soft, fond sort of tone as his gaze turns to the artwork on the walls.

"That's so cool!" I exclaim, grinning from ear to ear. "I wish I could paint like you!"

"Oh, I wasn't that impressive," he mutters shyly, floating over to me and sitting on the edge of my bed shyly. God, why does the dead boy have to be so adorably beautiful?

"Well, the room begs to differ," I reply, grinning when that response makes him smile.

"You're just being nice," he says quietly, and I know that'd he'd be blushing if he could.

I shake my head and reach towards him on impulse, being shocked when I can actually rest my hand on his form. It feels sort of like a dry water, if that makes any sense. It gives you the feeling of being submerged, but it's not a wet sort of feeling. It's just sort of chilling.

"You're extremely talented, Arthur." I smile in honesty, hoping he realizes just how impressive his artwork is.

"Thank you, love," he whispers quietly. I can tell he appreciates the comment, and the thought that something I've said makes him feel like that makes my heart swell in pride and happiness.

I even blush at the fact that he called me love. I silently berate myself for my weakness for boys with British accents. Even if he were alive, there's no guarantee that he'd like me in the same way. 

"We should go to bed," he tells me quietly, after we sit in a rather awkward silence.

"Where do you sleep?" I ask. "Can you sleep in a bed and stuff?"

He nods. "Yes, but I usually just sleep while floating. It's not uncomfortable, but it's not the same as sleeping in a bed."

I shrug in misleading innocence. "You could always sleep in my bed with me. I don't mind." His eyes widen at the comment. I want to see what he would look like when he blushes. I bet it's beautiful. 

He stutters out what sounds like an okay, and hovers over to the light switch, which he switches off before floating back over to me. The soft glow of his body is the only thing that lights the room, and it's an intoxicating sort of beautiful. It looks much better in the dark where you can truly see all the different shades of green that swirl through his figure.

I pull back the covers for him and he nervously slides in. "Hey, Arthur," I say quietly as he faces away from me. "How come most ghosts don't look like you? Why can I actually see you when ghosts are like usally see through?"

He turns around to face me, making the bed creak in the otherwise silent room. "I've tied myself to you, so you'll always be able to see me, whether I want you to or not. I've allowed myself to be revealed to your friends for a short period of time, but I can choose whether or not they see me. I can only do so if I'm tied to someone, so now I can."

I nod slowly and take off my glasses before I forget too and accidentally break them. "So, my mom wouldn't be able to see you unless you wanted her to?" He nods. "And it's that way with everyone except me?" He nods again, his eyes starting to become half lidded in exhaustion. "I feel pretty honored to be tied to you, too. Thank you."

He smiles up at me, and I notice that he's shorter than I am. I can't usually tell when he's always floating everywhere. Maybe we can spend all of tomorrow together, since it's Saturday, and I can learn even more about him. I'm genuinely curious about the little British boy next to me.

"Alfred," he whispers to me as I slowly start to drift off to sleep.

"Hmm?" I answer, feeling my body relax and ache to curl up to the body next to mine. I like to cuddle, so sue me. 

"I wish I met someone like you when I was alive."

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Heylo my lovely little nuggets! I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! Don't forget to leave comments and such, including suggestions! I love hearing suggestions and feedback! It makes my day :) Anyway, I'll see y'all nuggety readers in the next update! Until then, have an absolutely fabulous and fantastic day! Bai!!! >:3

-IggyScones