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When I wake up, I'm between Theo's legs. Between. His. Legs.

History leaps at my throat and it's all I can do not to screech and scramble out of the bed towards the door. I force myself to lie still and take in the situation. It's dawn and the room is illuminated with pale pink light. My head is resting on the smooth skin of Theo's right knee and his left leg is draped across my stomach along with the bottom half of the covers. It's nothing sexual - it must've just happened by accident sometime in the night - but it feels awfully intimate, like the morning after.

Slowly, I move the leg draped across me back onto the bed with light fingers and sit up, quickly covering the bottom half of his body with the quilt. On tiptoes I head towards the door and slip out of it, managing not to make a sound and managing not to wake Theo, whose face is soft and frownless in sleep.

Just when I think I've made it back safe, I meet Georgia on the landing. Well, I say meet - I actually crash into her, sending the pile of freshly washed laundry in her arms to the carpet.

"Sorry!" I whisper, quickly scooping up a sheet and taking as long as possible to fold at it waist height. If she saw the... presence I was hiding - well, fuck the ghost magic, I think she'd throw me out of the house no matter what.

"It's... it's... er... it's okay?" Georgia manages, yawning. Her eyes are droopy and I think that some part of it might actually be due to tiredness as opposed to my unintentional magical fuckery. I want to ask her how much she works and how long she's been awake, but I think the ghost magic would send her to sleep on her feet.

But this woman surprises me. Rubbing her eyes, (and spreading her eyeliner down her cheeks) she smirks down at me. (I'm even shorter than most women, goddammit.) "You were just," she yawns, "in Theo's room, weren't you? Are you..." yawn, "sure you're not..." yawn, "dating?"

"One hundred percent," I say so firmly that I forget to whisper, handing her the folded sheet and hastily picking up another one. "He had a nightmare and I wanted to see if he was okay. I fell asleep. That's all."

Georgia takes the sheet from me. Now the only barrier I have between her and my little problem is ghost magic. Thank the unforgiving lord, it seems to be working.

"Uh huh." Yawn. Eye rub. "Well, about the dating thing... maybe you should... work on that." She smirks and punches my shoulder good-naturedly, yawning again. "I wouldn't say that's purely morning wood."

Now my entire body is flushing, this time from embarrassment. Laughing under her breath, Georgia heads down the landing with her arms full. Hastily, I dart back into my room and scramble back into my bed, which is now cold. I stretch out again and force myself to calm down.

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I really shouldn't have partaken in P.E today, but I honestly couldn't help myself.

I was always sporty. It was the being-a-midget thing, I think. I felt like I needed to make up for it. That and the boys I hung around with when I was alive were lovers of rugby and football and similar atrocities, so I was naturally roped into the fray.

I was short, strong, generally stocky and extremely aggressive, meaning that I was the cause of numerous broken noses. (Even when it was a non-contact sport.)

I wasn't the best at track, but I have this advantage called being dead. It comes with benefits such as limitless energy and no need to breathe.

Every time I lapped Theo and the rest of the boys, I slowed down a bit to ask him how he was doing. It pissed him off, which was extremely hilarious. When we were finished, the P.E teacher and other boys tried to glare at me but, as expected, it didn't go too well for them. Theo and I headed to the bathrooms to put our uniforms back on, him because he's gay and oh, horror, he might try to fuck us! and me because just looking at that changing room door fills my brain with gushing scarlet.

I wore one of Theo's spare kits (which smelled faintly like spice, detergent, and his sweat) (and, afterward, my non-scent) and I hand it back to him as soon as he's changed. The pout he's sporting as he steps out of the cubicle pulls a laugh out of me.

"How many times did I lap you?" I tease while he washes his hands in the sink. (Rich boy = germ freak.)

"Ten," he growls, looking up at me through his fringe. He flicks soapy water at me unexpectedly, making me chuckle happily and ache a little sadly at the same time. "And you probably could have a billion times more if it wouldn't've had the faculty calling Guinness Book of Records," he adds, drying his hands on my arm absentmindedly and heading towards the door.

"Perks of being a dead boy," I joke. He frowns at me, eyes full of something sad. My smile falls.

We head to the cafeteria (Theobuys me pizza and an apple which I accept without complaining at this point) and then outside, flopping down underneath the very tree I was climbing when Teresa's soul called out for me over four decades ago. I let my hand linger on the bark like it's an old friend and nest my back right into the crook of the roots as we sit. Theo's so close that his shoulder touches mine and I can hear him chewing on his orange right next to my ear.

"They had a week about ten years ago where all the food they imported was rotten," I say conversationally, taking a bite of my apple.

Theo grimaces at his orange for a second, then offers it to me. I take it with a snigger.

"Mum ate rotten ham once because I was fussing and she didn't like wasting stuff," Theo says, equally casually. "She got food poisoning."

"Couldn't she have just, like, brought more ham?" I say, finishing the orange and turning back to my apple. (This conversation is a little strange, I'll admit.)

"She was used to not having much before my dad became the epitome of a rich white man," Theo replied, his eyebrows knotting when he mentions his father. "And she didn't lose the don't-waste-shit habit."

He mentions her fondly with a smile that doesn't last long enough. "You must miss her." "What about your mother?" Theo asks suddenly, (probably avoiding the question) and turning to me. "What was she like? If you don't mind."

I chuck the apple core over my shoulder, past the tree trunk. "I don't know. I don't really remember." A lie. "She... never got over the death of my younger sibling. A baby. I don't remember if it was a boy or a girl. So she was always distant and my dad always working or angry so I was half raised by my aunt, half by myself. She... she was broken. Not the best mother, but that goes without saying."

Theo looks troubled. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. She's probably with the baby now, if there is such thing as heaven." I scratch furiously at the knee of my jeans, feeling a sudden surge of bitterness. "While I'm stuck here."

Theo pulls my (slightly glowing) hand away from my knees, squeezes it once and drops it in my lap. "Designer," he jokes, eliciting a small smile from me. He's serious again a moment later. "Would you leave... if you could? Die for real?"

I shrug. "I don't think I can, so why think about it? It would be a hard forty-five years if I spent my entire time wishing I was somewhere else. This is my existence now, and I think it will be forever. I've come to terms with it."

Theo shuffles a bit - it is uncomfortable leaning against a tree - and when he stops moving the entirety of my left side is pressed against his right. It's comfortable. He's so warm.

Luke..." he begins, my name hanging on his lips like he's tasting it.

But I'm distracted by a soul. Not the feel of the soul, like it, was with Theo, but the sight of the person attached to it. Amber - my last soul, the one who smokes. Stood about twenty paces away, arguing furiously with her friends. A moment later she strides away towards us. I grab Theo's arm and he stops talking abruptly.

"What?"

"She's upset," I say, already half standing.

Theo follows my gaze. "Amber?" he snorts nastily. "So what? She's not your problem anymore," he adds petulantly. (I can imagine him folding his arms and pouting.)

It's then, with a pang, that I remember he's only sixteen. (A sheltered, privileged, rich sixteen-year-old who doesn't even wash up his own plates.) He hasn't lived my life. He hasn't witnessed a million hurts and often been powerless to do anything.

I don't get that power very often, only when a soul calls for me. And I've never had the chance to keep it, because I've never stayed this long before. But now, thanks to Theo, I do.

By then I'm on my feet and striding after her. And I know it's a bad idea because it goes against what I've told myself for the last twenty-five years. (Don't get attached.) I fix the kids, let them get on with it and make myself get over it. I don't let myself get involved again.

(Stupid rich boy, making me feel feelings.)

Lightly jogging, I manage to catch up with her. Her cheeks are stained with mascara-tinted tears and she smells faintly of weed. When I step in front of her, she very nearly crashes into me. When she looks up at me, her eyes are foggy with more than tears.

"Are you okay?" I ask gently. "Who are you?" she demands hazily like she's just taken another hit. A punch to the gut. Every time. Even though I expected it. Even though I should be used to it. Even though it's happened more times than I can count.

"I..."

And then suddenly Theo's there, placing a hand on my shoulder. Smiling at Amber with his gap teeth. Grounding me. Lessening the ache.

"He's my friend," he says, smiling at me. I meet his eyes and he nods at me - play along. "An exchange student. From... er... Hungary! Yeah. From Hungary. He doesn't really... you know," he cocks his head at me like he's letting Amber in on a joke. "Get it, you know?"

I give Theo a wtf look, (Hungarian? Really? That's an insult to Hungarians.) but Amber's smiling as she wipes her eyes. "Didn't know we had an exchange programme. Is he gay, too?"

I freeze up, but Theo just shrugs and says, "No idea. He's cute, though, isn't he?" He ruffles my hair, messing it up, and I let him.

Amber laughs and my nose is again hit with the faint scent of cannabis. "Yeah, for a midget."

Theo laughs - two giraffes, laughing at the expense of me, the unassuming Hungarian exchange student - then looks serious again. "Well... if you need to talk, just know I'm always available. Really. I don't really have to anybody to talk to, 'cept Luke, that is."

Amber frowns at the mention of my name but her face irons out again almost immediately. I don't let myself hope.

"And he... might have to leave soon," Theo finishes. I feel like I've been punched again. Amber sniffs and smiles. "Thanks, Theo. And here I was thinking you were just a spoiled brat." Smiling and shaking her head a little, she pats Theo's shoulder and walks back towards the school.

"Hey..." Theo mumbles at her back, pouting.

When I laugh, he looks at me. And he looks at me like he did when he saw my glowing hands: like he's never seen anything like me before.

He checks, unnecessarily, to see if anybody's listening. "She's not your soul anymore," he says, his tone accusative and his eyes soft.

"I know." (Is he... jealous?) (Probably.) (I'm all he's got.) (In terms of friends, that is.) (Are we friends?) (I guess so.)

"So why did you try to help her?"

"Because I'm an idiot."

"Why does being selfless mean you're an idiot?"

Okay, that was a surprise.

"I wasn't being selfless."

"Then what were you being?"

Then what were you being?"

"An idiot." "You could put your face next to "selfless" in the dictionary, seeing as you've been practicing it for five decades," he says, managing to look me in the eyes as he does.

That was cringey. And adorable. Where is this barrage of compliments coming from?

"Or you could flip back a bit and find my mugshot next to "idiot".

(Or coward. Fighter. Sinner.)

Theo shakes his head, smiling toothily. "Well, whatever you are, you are cute." He beams at me and it's wonderful. Then the grin goes sly. "For a midget."

He laughs right in my face and takes off running towards the school. I follow him. (In that moment, I'm pretty sure I'd follow him anywhere.)

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a note from me

Double update!


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