The boy sat oblivious to Luke and Michael's stares, looking down at his feet covered in Vans. His long, dark fingers drummed a rhythm on his thighs, the train's motion making him sway to keep balance. He sat alone. Nobody seemed to be surprised by his presence except for Luke and Michael.

Luke watched him for a few more moments before turning away. His knuckles were white from where they grasped the metal rod.

"It's not him," Luke said. Michael lifted his eyes to meet Luke's. "It can't be, Michael. Calum is dead. We saw his body."

For once, Michael's flame seemed to burn out. "I know. I know it's not him. But-- fuck. It looks like him. There isn't one thing different."

They both turned and looked at the boy again. He was now leaning back against the hard subway seat, his eyes shut and his arms behind his head. His legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. Luke didn't know what to say. He felt like his heart was as loud as the wheels against the subway track, throbbing in his chest like it was bursting to come out. His tongue felt swollen. His eyes blurred.

Michael set his jaw. "We've got to talk to him."

"Are you serious?" Luke managed to say. Michael just glared at him.

"What are we supposed to do?"

"Why does doing something have to include talking to him?" asks Luke.

"Why do you keep answering my questions with questions?" Michael fired back. Luke set his lips in a grim line and looked back at the boy. He hadn't moved since they last watched him. Luke's heart continued thudding against his ribcage. He didn't know what to do.

Finally, Michael cursed colorfully under his breath and let go of the metal pole, moving across the aisle towards the boy. Luke followed closely on his heels. He watched Michael's shoulders instead of the boy as they walked over, tense and rigid under his flannel shirt.

They stopped. Luke stared at his feet until he had the nerve to look up. When he did, his heart stopped.

The boy hadn't noticed them yet. But this close, it was even harder for Luke to imagine this boy being anyone other than Calum Hood. Everything was the same, down to the cowlick that curled beside his right ear. Luke's heart pumped painfully slow. He felt like his body was draining of blood, and that was even before the boy looked up.

His brown eyes met Luke's. Luke felt electric.

The boy's eyebrows knit together. "Sorry," he said, and curled his legs back up to his seat. He crossed his arms and turned his cheek the other way. When they didn't move, the boy turned to look at them again. "Can I help you?"

"Who are you?" Luke asked immediately. The boy looked aghast. He slowly sat up and pulled his hoodie back a few inches so he could see them better.

The boy said slowly, "I suppose I could ask you the same thing." A few seconds passed, and then he spoke again. "I'm going to ask you a second time, because it seems necessary. Can I help you?"

"You don't recognize us?" asked Luke. The boy blinked at him and shook his head.

"No. Should I?" the boy said. "I just moved here. I don't recognize anybody."

Luke turned his shoulder, his ears burning red with either anger or unhappiness. He heard the boy shift in the train seat, his clothing ruffling. Then he said, "Well. My name's Calum, for the record. This was a weird exchange of conversation. But all the same-- it was nice talking to you."

Luke's blood runs cold, because there were two things very wrong with what the boy just said. First, was that he said his name was Calum. Calum wasn't exactly a common name. It only ensured that it was him. That he was dead, but now he wasn't dead, or is he? Luke's head became muffled. He thought he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

The second thing the boy said that was wrong was the polite disinterest after he stated his name. It was so Calum. The consistent niceties, the unwavering honesty, the subtle dismissal of conversation disguised under kindness. It was Calum in a way that Luke had never realized until now.

There was a silence after he spoke. Then Michael said, "Oh, hell."

Calum knit his eyebrows together at Michael's statement. He looked from Michael to Luke. "Am I missing something here?"

Michael looked to Luke, and Luke looked back. He saw confusion in his green eyes, but also something else. Interest, the possibility of discovery, the overwhelming curiosity. Michael raised his eyebrows, and Luke nodded.

"I'm Michael. That's Luke." Michael pointed to Luke unnecessarily. He settled into the seat beside Calum. He didn't smile, but Michael's expression of kindness isn't through affection. "Where are you going to school?"

Calum blinked at Michael before answering. "I'm supposed to be going to, uh--" He paused and fumbled clumsily for a piece of paper in his pocket. He flattened it against his knees and said with an unfamiliar tone, "East Randolph High."

"No fucking way," Michael said. Calum blinked at the swear. "So are we."

Calum turned his familiar brown eyes to Luke. It hurt to look at. Luke almost winced, but caught himself. He lifted his chin and settled his expression into no expression at all.

"Come with us," Luke invited. He stared at Calum's forehead of curly hair instead of his eyes. "We can show you around."

Calum said in surprise, "Oh. Thank you." Michael looked just as surprised as Calum did. Luke turned his back to the both of them and gripped one of the metal poles, staring instead at the maps and ads plastered on the train's walls. His eyes were unfocused. His legs felt a little weak. He tried not to let it show on his face.

He could feel Calum's eyes on his back. Calum. Calum. The name resonated inside Luke's head, turning itself over and over but not becoming any less confusing. He couldn't figure out who this kid was. He wasn't Calum. Well, he wasn't Luke's Calum. But he was a Calum who looked exactly like Luke's Calum.

He started to get a headache.

The train started to slowly roll to a stop. Luke gripped the metal pole until the doors slid open, and then the three of them left the train and walked out of the station.

---

They walked Calum back to Luke's house. Luke kept looking back at Calum, waiting for some sort of sign that he recognized his surroundings, recognized the sidewalk he had walked on thousands of times. But this Calum just looked around him with wide eyes, nearly tripping on a root that the dead Calum had always known to step over.

As Luke brought Calum towards his front door, watching Calum's unfamiliar eyes, he considered the fact that possibly all this was just some very strange coincidence, and this was not his Calum, and this was just a boy who looked a lot like him.

Luke settled on this thought as he stared at Calum. His nose looked the same before, but Luke can see now that it is a little more sloped. His eyes are a little bigger. His jawline isn't quite as pronounced. Luke silently wondered what stranger he just brought into his house.

Ashton was lounging on the couch when they walked in. His hoodie was down, the bruises ugly and in that green-looking stage right before they fade completely. His hazel eyes flickered up and froze on Calum. His entire body stilled. Not one muscle moved.

Michael swore as he accidently knocked over a vase walking in. Calum jumped as the glass shattered at their feet.

"Was that me?" Calum asked worriedly. His eyebrows knit together, and a crease appeared between his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Nobody said anything. Ashton was still frozen, his body tense, one hand still gripping his phone. He was unblinking. Luke had a sick feeling in his stomach. Michael nonchalantly kicked the glass underneath a table with his shoe.

Luke said, "Ashton, this is a boy we found on the train today. He just moved here so we thought we would show him around. His name is Calum."

Ashton locked eyes with Luke. He didn't say a word, but in his eyes Luke saw what he would say if Calum weren't in the room. Some comment that related to What the actual fuck?

Calum flashed a genuine smile. "It's nice to meet you, Ashton. Do you go to school at East Randolph as well?"

Ashton tilted his head a little, staring unnervingly at Calum with no regards to politeness. He slowly stood from the couch, pulling his hoodie over his head and disappearing into one of the guest bedrooms in the hallway. The door slammed shut, and the sound echoed through the foyer.

The crease between Calum's eyebrows increased immensely. "Did I do something?"

Michael picked up a glass shard and winced when it pierced his finger. Blood oozed around the glass as he threw it in a trashcan. "Don't take it personally. Ashton doesn't talk much."

Calum blinked. "Oh."

Luke could practically see the questions swirling in the boy's head. Luke pushed a few empty potato chip bags and water bottles off the couch and patted it. "Sit down, Calum. We'll, uh.. discuss school and everything."

Calum obliged. Michael sat on the other side of Calum. The three of them stared at each other until Calum noticed the pieces of paper spread across the coffee table.

"Woah. What's all this?" He curiously looked at the papers. Michael snatched them immediately away from his eyes, fumbling to stack them together.

"They're nothing," Michael snapped. He reached for a few stray papers that had fallen to the ground. "Mind your own fucking business."

Calum looked overwhelmingly hurt. He stood up abruptly. "I think I'd better go. I've-- overstayed my welcome. I'm sorry. Very sorry."

He picked his way over Michael's fumbling hands and grabbed his backpack on his way to the door. Luke shut his eyes and groaned.

"Shit, no, Calum." He rushed forward and grabbed the boy's arm as he was reaching for the door. Calum slowly turned around, shoulders slumped. "We'll explain. We were being rude. It's not you."

Calum stared at them with slightly furrowed eyebrows for a moment. Michael had abandoned trying to gather the papers and had put his head in his hands. His dyed red hair fell over his pale fingers. Luke ignored the sick twisting of his stomach and looked pleadingly at Calum. The dark-haired boy set his lips in a thin line.

"Fine." He pulled his arm away from Luke's hold none too gently and retreated back to the couch. Luke followed numbly. "Have I done something wrong? Just tell me if I have and I'll get out of your hair."

"No. It's just-- God. This sounds so fucked up," Luke said. Michael still had his head in his hands. Calum just shook his head with confusion.

"Just tell me."

Luke set his jaw and took a deep breath. He twisted his fingers in his lap. "When we saw you on the train, you reminded us of a guy who we lost recently. You look like him."

"Exactly like him," said Michael, his voice muffled by his palms.

Calum raised his eyebrows. They disappeared into his curly bangs. "You lost someone recently? Hell. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Michael blinked at him and said, "No, I don't think you understand. You look exactly like him. It's like you two are fucking clones or some shit."

Calum was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Oh." He self-consciously ruffled his hair, as though that would make some sort of difference.

They all were silent for a minute. Then Calum asked, "What was his name?"

Luke stared at some object off in the distance. He sounded far away when he answered. "Calum."

The Calum beside them parted his lips slightly. "That's-- that's my name," he said unnecessarily.

"Yes," Luke said. His voice sounded forced. "So you understand when we saw a boy who looked exactly like our dead friend, with the same name, we were a tad bit shocked."

The boy in question swallowed. "I understand. I-- Did you think I was... him?"

Michael lifted his eyes to meet Calum's. Then he shook his head. "At first, maybe. But you don't recognize us, or this house, or this neighborhood. Besides, we saw his body. We went to his funeral. He's dead. Calum's dead."

"You're just someone who looks a hell lot like him. And someone who happens to have the same name," Luke said. He looked sideways at Calum. His face didn't have any expression, but his eyes were filled with emotion. "Just a coincidence."

Calum looked at his knees, eyebrows knit together once again. He presses his lips together. "Those papers."

"Calum was murdered. Shot in the leg, and got blood poisoning," Michael said, without much emotion. "These are his files." He subtly left out the part about stealing them from the police station.

Calum blinked at the papers and closed his eyes. "God," he said finally. Luke slowly took out a photograph from his pocket, the same one he kept on his bedside table. He looked at it for a moment before passing it silently to Calum.

Calum took it carefully. He looked at it without changing his expression, but his chest rose and fell faster. "This is him?"

"Yeah," Luke said.

There was a few moments of silence. Then, "He really does look just like me." He put the photograph face down on the coffee table, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, that-- I don't know. That I'm not him. I wish I could say I was."

Luke just shrugged and gave him a half-hearted smile that Michael could see right through, even if Calum couldn't. "No worries. I hope you like East Randolph. Feel free to hang with us any time you'd like."

Michael narrowed his eyes a little at the last sentence, but he didn't interrupt. Calum shrugged a little in response and awkwardly stood up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"Anyway," he said. "I've got to find my apartment before it gets dark, so, I'll just--"

"See you around," Luke said. Michael lifted a hand. Calum slumped out the front door and closed it gently behind him. Both Luke and Michael stared at the front door until they couldn't see anything else.

Ashton slipped out of the bedroom and replaced Calum's spot between them. He didn't say anything, but he pulled his hoodie off and rested his curly head against the cushions.

Michael was the one who spoke first. "Probably the most fucked up conversation that guy's ever had with a couple of strangers."

Luke clenched his jaw. "Probably."

Ashton waited a few seconds before speaking, in a very soft voice. "What does this mean?"

Michael said, "I don't think this means anything. It's just a coincidence. They just look similar and their names are the same. It doesn't matter."

Luke rubbed his eyes. "It's just all so strange. What if...?"

Michael stared at Luke with unforgiving eyes. "What if what, Luke? What if Calum miraculously rose from the fucking dead and got on a train home with us?" Michael stood up. Luke and Ashton watched him. "Calum is dead! He's dead! A bullet went through his bone and his body shut down. We saw his body in the morgue, for God's sake. What more do you need for confirmation?"

Ashton had turned his head from the yelling. He looked smaller than usual against the couch's blue fabric. Luke was unblinking, staring at Michael with the same firm, steady expression.

"That guy wasn't Calum. He's just some new kid at school who we know nothing about, and we got over excited thinking he was, what? Some kind of ghost of Calum's? Jesus."

Michael's shoes crushed over broken glass as he walked to the door. He threw his backpack over his shoulder. He paused when he put his hand on the knob. "I'm going home. Tomorrow's a new day, and we'll have our heads together. Too much has happened today. We robbed the police last night, for Christ's sake. I think we all just need some sleep."

The door slammed shut behind him. Ashton didn't say anything, and Luke knew how much he hated yelling, so he put his arm around Ashton's shoulders and let him sit in silence for a while.

Michael blew up when he was angry, frustrated, confused, almost any emotion known to man. It's how he coped. Luke wouldn't get mad over that, but he wished Michael wasn't so honest about it. He knew he was right. Calum was dead. And this new Calum was just a new kid in school, no different.

Luke pressed Ashton tighter to his chest. His curly hair tickled Luke's cheekbone.

The wallowed in silence and discovery. Luke's mind tumbled over itself. The photograph, still laying face down on the coffee table, burned holes in his mind.

Ashton lifted his head. "Do you mind if I stay here tonight?"

Luke said, "Of course not." Ashton rested his head back on Luke's shoulder. Luke continued staring at the back wall of his house. He drew circles on the sleeve of Ashton's sweatshirt.

They stayed there for the rest of the night until the moon rose and the daylight fell. Ashton fell asleep on the couch, under a mountain of pillows and blankets, but Luke stayed awake. He didn't sleep much at night. He didn't sleep much at all. Instead, he stared at the white back of the photograph, and then he grabbed the pile of papers Michael had left, and he began sorting through them again. He grabbed a notebook from his bedroom and jotted notes. He annotated the files. He underlined things twice, three times, four times if they were important. He wrote ideas, theories. His mind worked.

Sleep had never been more far away.

---
A/N: finna hit up the beach tmrw #excited

last year at the beach I was writing under the sea wow memories am I right

what is your favorite vacation spot? or your favorite place you would like to go in the world?

I want to go to either Greece, Rome, or perhaps Amsterdam. It all looks very cool in my opinion

hope you enjoyed reading! thank you very much for doing so. please vote and comment!!! :):):) love you to the moon. byyye