Deathday

3

"Why were you singing?" I asked after we'd been making our way down the path for around five minutes.

The graveyard was dark, yet it was noisy. The tree branches rustled in the wind and the fallen leaves crunched under our feet. Occasionally, an owl could be heard in the distance. Once or twice a fox let out a blood-curdling shriek, which was the worst of the cemetery sounds. I wanted to engage in conversation as a distraction so that I didn't end up completely overcome with fright. No, the irony was not lost on me that I was using a ghost to divert my attention away from noises that were inherently less spooky than he was.

"You heard me?"

"Yes. It woke me up and freaked me out," I told him. "Not that I didn't love hearing you sing again. It was beautiful."

"You were asleep?" he asked and then chuckled. "My singing was freaky, yet you're the one who was napping in a graveyard."

"On Halloween, no less," I added.

"It's Halloween?"

"Yep. Today is your deathday."

"I saw the date on my headstone, I just didn't know today was the day. Fuck. Halloween was one of my favorite holidays. It sucks that I died on it."

I wasn't sure how much I should tell him. He obviously didn't remember dying, and maybe that was for the best. It might upset him to know he was texting one of his friends about the location of the bar they were meeting at. That fact had been made public by his family with hopes it would discourage others from doing the same, but the rest of the details about that night were unknown. Everyone assumed he was dressed up in a costume, and rumor had it he was outfitted as Spider-Man. I'd never been able to get over the fact that Shawn Mendes might have died as Peter Parker. It was just too bizarre.

"You haven't answered my question. Why were you singing?" I said to get off the previous subject, since he didn't need those details.

"Why wouldn't I be singing? It's my passion and profession. I was walking around feeling confused and it felt like the natural thing to do," he told me, as if singing ghosts were commonplace.

"Hm. I guess."

He cleared his throat. "I need to know why you were taking a nap on a grave, Sage."

I scoffed, "It wasn't intentional! I was meditating and I fell asleep."

"So meditating in cemeteries is something you do regularly?" he teased.

"Of course not! I only do it once a year," I explained. I decided to leave out that I'd started meditating when he'd espoused the virtues of it three years before his death.

A cold gust of wind hit my face hard causing my cheeks to sting. I checked my phone's battery life and saw it was at 55% and was draining fast. We needed to get out of this place quickly, so I picked up my pace a bit. Shawn's long legs easily matched my strides.

"You visit my grave every year?" he asked after a few minutes.

I stopped walking and turned towards him. "What makes you think I was here to see you?"

He gave me a smirk I'd seen in photos many times during my period of Shawn-obsession. If it wasn't so damn cute, I'd have been annoyed by it. How crazy was it that I found a ghost completely adorable?

"It's the anniversary of my death, you knew exactly where my headstone was, and you seem to know a lot about me. It wasn't that hard to figure out," he replied with a casual shrug of his broad shoulders.

I started walking again, thankful that the flashlight was directed on the path. If my face was visible, he'd see that it was bright red and not just from windburn.