Calum's mind was blank.

Not blank in the way that people get when they stare off into space, or when they are on the edge of sleep, or when they are presented with a concept that they don't understand. Blank in a way as though all of his memories were stripped away from him, ripped from his mind as though they were never there in the first place. Blank in a way that held vacuous space, a vacancy, a gap that couldn't be filled.

Calum really didn't know how to explain it. He constantly tried to rewind his memory back to before the train ride over to town, back before he met Luke or Michael or Ashton, but it was like a brick wall was cemented in his memory. There was nothing there.

Calum couldn't remember where he was coming from, or why, or if he had parents or brothers or sisters. He couldn't remember his own last name, or where he lived as a kid, or who his childhood best friend was. He came up with nothing.

Calum really hadn't been doing too well after he found out nobody could see him. He kept wandering up and down the streets, in the school hallways, watching people's gaze go right through him. He yelled at a rather cowardly freshman student, who kept walking without even flinching. He cussed out a geometry teacher. He dropped books out of shelves in a full classroom and listened to everyone shriek about ghosts. Then he sat in the corner and put his head in his hands and listened to his heart beat slowly, slowly, slowly.

Everyone always talked about having invisibility be a superpower, but clearly nobody had ever experienced it before. It sucked. It was demeaning. Nobody knew who you were or cared if you were there. All you got was turned backs and averted eyes, people seeing straight through your body and leaving you with an empty feeling in your stomach. Calum hated it.

He had gotten no contact with the boys after they left him at the school. Ashton, he had heard through talk on the streets, had gotten himself thrown in jail for murdering the other Calum. Michael hadn't texted or called. Luke had seemed to disappear off the face of the earth, which was harder on Calum than he would have thought. He hadn't realized how much he depended on the boys until suddenly they were ripped out of his life. Calum felt stranded and lost.

He had contemplated going to Luke's house, knowing he and Michael would be in there. But Calum couldn't forget the look on Luke's face when the realization set in. The confusion that melted into fear, and then utter detachment.

I don't know who you are. It was one of the last phrases spoken to Calum by Luke before they abandoned him at the school. Calum was teary-eyed and frustrated, hair a mess and eyes glistening, angry with himself and frightened of why he couldn't remember something as simple as his last name. He was just as confused as them, but their patience had grown thin. They had cut the strings between them with a fine-edged knife and left for Calum to pick up the pieces, confused and terrified and helpless.

Calum sat in his apartment on the edge of downtown. He had hardly grown home there at all, although thinking about it now, he didn't know where home even was. He held his head in his hands, a half-drunken cup of coffee in front of him, his eyes burning from no sleep. He had stayed awake mostly all night for the past couple of days, trying to figure out who he was and why his memories were blank. He shuffled through his phone and pictures but found none from any time before the train ride. It was as though he had never existed. He wondered vaguely if he had some kind of mental illness, or perhaps a disease that attacked the brain. What else could explain something so out of the ordinary and strange?

Calum picked up his phone and called Luke for the tenth time that day. It rang in his ear and then Luke's smooth voice said, "You've reached Luke Hemmings. Leave a message, thanks."

Calum kept his head in his hands. His voice was slightly muffled as he said, "Luke. It's Calum. The-- fuck. I don't know. The new one? Just, please, call me back. I don't know what's happening to me any more than you do. But I really, really need someone to talk to right now. And I would call Michael but I think he sort of hates me, so... yeah. Please call me back. Please."

Calum fumbled with the phone but sent the voicemail. Then he placed it back on the table and looked at it, waiting for it to ring.

It didn't.

Calum's throat caught and he dug his hands into his hair. "Remember, Calum. Just-- remember."

But nothing appeared in his mind. Calum took a deep breath and slowly picked up the cup of cold coffee, carrying it to the kitchen. He placed it in the sink. He dug around underneath the cabinets for any dishwashing soap, and found a bottle stuffed in the back. He leaned in to grab it.

His fingers brushed the plastic cover and suddenly, vivid images of color and sound exploded in his mind. He reeled back, hitting the side of the kitchen island and sending a throbbing pain through his head. Calum swore colorfully, reaching up and touching his scalp gingerly. "What the fuck--"

The bottle lay on the ground where he had dropped it. Calum stared at it. The pain in his head still throbbed painfully, but he ignored it long enough to reach out, carefully this time, until his fingertips brushed the surface.

Immediately, his vision gave out, and instead he saw himself in his mind, clearly a long time ago, standing in front of the sink, the bottle of soap in his hands. He was laughing, the sink full of water and bubbles, dishes piled high from clearly weeks of not cleaning. He was wearing a worn down black t-shirt and dark blue skinny jeans that hugged his thighs. Calum realized with a start that someone was standing beside him, someone very familiar.

Luke was laughing, which made Calum double take. Luke looked happier. His skin looked brighter, eyes lighter, his mouth stretched into a smile. Energy and happiness seemed to radiate off of him in waves, a persona complete different than the Luke Calum knew now. His expression was open and carefree, nothing but joy in his eyes. Calum saw himself squirt more soap into the sink, to which Luke grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Calum," Luke said in between laughs. "You're not going to even see the dishes by the time you're done emptying this entire bottle in there."

The boy shook his head but put the bottle back under the cabinet. "Nobody said you could have too many bubbles. Nobody."

Luke stared at Calum fondly. "Fair enough."

Calum went to work with the dishes, seemingly oblivious to his friend's gaze. He washed them in the sink, and then he handed the plates to Luke to dry. There was something serene about the two of them there, completely at ease and comfortable. Somehow he knew that Luke wouldn't be this easy with anyone else. But with Calum he was all soft edges, smiles, and warm gazes.

They washed the dishes together. It was all so domestic. So unlike anything he'd ever seen two friends do before. Luke looked over at Calum and said, "So, what's Ashton up to?"

Calum's expression tensed. "I'm not sure. Hopefully he's not at home."

Luke rubbed a washcloth over a dish carefully. "Yeah. Me too."

Calum handed him another plate. Luke took it. "Don't you ever get antsy? Just sitting around and letting things happen to Ashton that Ashton doesn't deserve?"

Luke shrugged. "I love Ashton like a brother. But he made us promise not to do anything about his dad. Ashton may be quiet and gentle, but I don't want to see him angry."

Calum said, "I'd risk making him angry if it meant making him safe. I feel like I should do something."

Luke lifted an eyebrow, setting a plate aside. "I don't think you should. I feel like that would be breaking Ashton's trust."

Calum had stopped washing the dishes now. "But he needs our help, Luke." Calum looked at the blonde boy with earnest eyes, begging and determined, but underneath that was something softer, something more vulnerable. Luke stared at Calum from under his eyelashes.

Calum twisted around from behind the sink and Luke stood in front of him, arms at his sides. "People don't always want to be saved, Cal," Luke said softly.

Calum was silent for a few moments. Then he set his jaw and turned around, accidentally knocking a mug off the counter and sending it splashing into the sink, water and soap flying up to splatter his face and stick into his hair. Luke burst into laughter, the tension in the room melting immediately. Calum, eyes scrunched shut, allowed a slow smile to spread on his face. He wiped soap from his eyes.

"Don't laugh, you asshole!" Calum laughed, and he got two handfuls of soapy water and threw it onto Luke.

Luke's white t-shirt became soaked, bubbles clinging to his neck and arms. "You little--"

The kitchen became chaotic, but chaos in the way that is full of laughter and smiles and soap splattering every inch of the kitchen. Luke's t-shirt clung to his body, wet and dripping onto the floor. Calum's hair was soaked and full of soap, dripping down his face. They slid on the floor as Luke grabbed Calum playfully and pushed him against the island, their bare feet sliding on the tiles.

"Okay, stop, stop," Calum said through his laughter. He pressed his palms flat on Luke's cotton-covered chest. "I can't-- breathe."

Luke breathed deeply, catching his breath. He held Calum's waist in his hands, his broad shoulders dripping with water. Calum stared at Luke's face, from his tousled hair to his nose, and then Luke kissed him.

Calum made a noise in the back of his throat and Luke used his grip on Calum's hips to pull him closer. Calum touched the side of Luke's face and reached up to dig his hands into Luke's wet hair, his back curving along the line of the kitchen counter, Luke's lips never leaving his--

The vision faded.

Calum's eyes opened with a start, sitting on the kitchen floor, the soap bottle dropping from his hands. It skittered across the tiles, Calum's heart pounding loud in his chest. He slowly lifted his hands to touch his lips, still burning with the memory of Luke's lips. His chest heaved, and he clutched at his dry clothing, peered into the side of the empty sink.

It was a memory.

A memory.

Calum collapsed back onto the cold kitchen floor. He thought back through the memory, seeing Luke, happy, clearly before his friend's death. Then there was Calum. The dead Calum.

His head spun. He felt, somehow, connected to him. It didn't feel as much like a vision as it felt like a memory, a flashback. Calum felt like him. Like he was him.

Calum's lips still held the sensation of Luke's. He remembered walking down the school hallways, nobody seeing his physical form. He remembered the blanched faces of Luke and Michael when he saw them on the train. He remembered the flashback, standing in this very kitchen, Luke's lips on his, fiery and warm and everything full of surprise and the innocent sensation of new love. He felt like he had just been thrown into a new dimension.

Calum stood up abruptly, light headed, and bent over the sink, prepared to empty his stomach but nothing happened. His head spun and his stomach twisted. His entire brain felt muddled.

When it appeared nothing was going to happen, he grabbed his bag and jacket from the couch and slipped out his front door and into the chilly evening air.

---

"Michael, get off the fucking table!"

Luke threw his baseball cap at the red-haired boy, who raised a middle finger but hopped off the table anyway. He instead began pacing around the room.

"You have to listen to me, though," said Michael. "We have to get a plan together. For Ashton."

Luke sighed tiredly. "I already sent him a letter. He hasn't answered."

"Well, he may not have been able to find out anything from inside the jail, Luke," Michael said. "I told him to stay out of things there. Hopefully he listened."

Luke didn't answer. He sat back on his couch, the empty house silent apart from the two boys. The television flashed political updates, but the volume was muted. Luke was feeling a bit helpless with the whole Ashton in jail thing and the whole Calum's death thing. He didn't know where to turn. He couldn't tell where the answers were hidden. It seemed as though the world was against him finding out and getting justice.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Luke asked, standing up. Michael stopped pacing.

"Beer?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "I have soft drinks and water."

"Oh," Michael said. "Dr. Pepper, then."

Luke turned to go to the kitchen, but before he could, the doorbell rang. For a moment, Michael and Luke just looked at each other. There was no one they were expecting. Luke silently prayed it wasn't Jack coming to yell at him any more. But when he opened the door, a familiar dark-haired boy stood in the doorway.

Luke's expression immediately darkened. "Go away."

Calum looked pleading. "Please. I have to talk to you guys." He was carefully avoiding Luke's eyes, instead staring past him into the room. He looked sick, skin flushed and eyes crazed. Luke hesitated.

"I don't want to see you anymore," Luke said more firmly. "Go away. Leave us alone for once."

This time Luke saw Calum's eyes glisten. "Please. You'll want to hear what I have to say. Just hear me out."

"Let him in, Luke," said Michael from behind the door. Luke looked at him-- his face was serious. "The kid looks like he's about to pass out. I'll kick him out myself if it gets to that point."

Calum paled a little at that, but Luke reluctantly opened the door wider. "Fine," he snarled. "Sit on the couch and say whatever it is you need to say. Then you're gone."

"Okay," said Calum nervously. He tentatively stepped into the room and padded to the couch, sitting on it as comfortably as if it were a bed of nails.

Michael sat on the arm of the couch. Luke stayed standing, crossing his arms. "Well?"

Calum looked at unease, and Luke noticed definitely, now, that he was purposely avoiding Luke's gaze. "Today, I was in my kitchen, and I-- I had a vision. Or, a memory of some sort."

"Did it give you any indication of where you came from? So you can go back there?" Luke muttered. Michael threw him a poisonous look.

"It involved Calum. Your Calum," said the boy quietly. "I saw him. It was as though it were his memory."

Michael straightened his shoulders. "What was the memory?"

Calum stared pointedly at the carpet, cheeks astonishingly red. "It's not important. Just him-- uh, grocery shopping."

"Grocery shopping," said Luke slowly.

"Yeah," said Calum quickly. "Anyway, I saw it as clearly as if were my own memory, not his. It was so vivid, so clear. And I don't know if there will be more, but, I just thought I'd let you guys know. In case I see something important that might help with his case."

Michael shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. How did you see his memories? He's dead. You're just some kid."

Calum looked sick. He took a very deep breath, the silence stretching between the three boys. "I think-- I think you were right about when you first met me."

"About what?" Luke asked.

Calum swallowed visibly. "The memory. I felt so connected to Calum, like it was me walking in his shoes, his hands were mind, his l--" He stopped. "I think there may be a reason why no one can see me. Why I can't seem to remember anything. Why I got those memories."

The other two boys were silent. Holding their breaths.

"I think I'm him," Calum said slowly, eyes lifting to finally meet Luke's. "I think I might be your Calum."

---
A/N: lots happening lots happening

tell me your thoughts about calum!! how do you feel about the memory thing and how do you think this will affect things in the future

hope everyone's new school year is going well. if you haven't started back yet and you are relishing in your last fleeting moments of summer??

anyway thanks for reading. i hope you enjoyed. pls vote and comment your thoughts!! love you to the moon bye