That night, Luke had slept at Calum's, no longer feeling safe at his own house. They had laid in Calum's tiny double bed, Calum watching as Luke's blonde hair tumbled over the ivory-white pillowcase. Calum had promised he could stay with him as long as he'd like. He was already tormented by the image of a gun being pointed to Luke's head. After all, Calum knew what that felt like. The fear of wondering if that next breath might be your last, sending you sinking like a stone down to your grave.

In the morning, Calum was up and awake before Luke. He took a moment to admire the messy curls of Luke's hair, his long blonde eyelashes brushing the top of his cheekbones, his cheek smudged against the inside of his arm.

Calum shuffled into the kitchen, shaking his brain awake. He groggily began to brew some coffee, hoping that the warm, thick smell might send the fog out of his head. Once the black liquid filled to the brim, he reached for the mug.

But as his fingers glanced the handle, he couldn't find the traction to wrap his fingers around it. He wondered if maybe the handle was slippery. Perhaps he accidentally spilled water on it? He looked around for a washcloth, and reached to grab one folded over the kitchen sink. Instead, his fingers slipped over it, too.

Calum's heart tremored. Get a grip, Calum. Literally. He went back to the coffee mug, a blue ceramic with a heart carved in the center, and tried again to take the handle. Again, his fingers slipped through the handle as though there was nothing there at all.

Calum recognized that his situation was... different. It wasn't every day that you died and came back to life without knowing how, when, where, or who you even were. It was like a second chance–– he got his old body back, his feelings, his best friends. He knew he wasn't supposed to be there. He knew he was wrong in some way. He wasn't quite real. But–– it wasn't until that moment that he truly understood how unearthly he really was.

He tried to pick up a variety of his kitchen items. A different mug, a pot, his sink handle, even the countertop. Every time, he couldn't quite manage to touch them. Sometimes he would get a touch, just a glance of something solid, but it faded away too fast for him to take advantage of it. His breath shuddered in his chest.

It was like he was fading.

Calum took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This is just a new obstacle, he told himself. Calm down first, and then try again.

He moved toward the couch in the living area, deciding he just needed to sit down. Should he wake Luke? Calum shook his head. Not yet. Not until he knows what's happening. For all he knows, this was just a glitch, and he'll come back. He'll come back.

Calum lowered himself onto the couch. But as he did, his vision suddenly collapsed, his body thrown into darkness. He felt like the room was spinning, but he couldn't get a handle of himself enough to tell if it was just his head. He found himself floating, almost, in the darkness. It surrounded him, a vast, an endless expanse. There was no noise. No smell, nothing around him to touch. He was completely, and utterly alone. Nonexistent.

He felt suddenly, very, very sure, this was where he was supposed to be. Instead, he got thrown into his past life.

He blinked and he was back in his living room, shaking on the couch. He stared at his hands. They seemed solid enough, but he still remembered the fear when his fingers glanced off the handle, a futile effort. He felt cold all over, chillbumps rising all over his skin. He was shivering, despite the heat blasting in the apartment.

What did this mean? Calum didn't have to think long. He was delaying the obvious. He wasn't meant to be here, and soon, the universe would take him back out of it.

He opened his mouth to call for Luke, but found he had no energy. He waited, silent as a ghost, until Luke groggily walked through the bedroom door, yawning, one hand scratching his head while the other lazily dangled at his side.

Luke padded into the kitchen. "Ooh, you made me coffee. Thank you, love." He took the coffee that Calum couldn't hold and brought it to his lips. "Oh. It's cold," he winced.

Luke looked up then, and saw Calum hunched on the couch, that daze in his eyes. Luke put down the coffee.

"Calum?" He hurried over, sleep still in his eyes, and sat down next to him. "What happened? What's wrong? God, you're freezing."

Calum accepted the wool blanket that he laid over his shoulders. He was grateful that it didn't fall straight through his body. Luke placed his hand on Calum's back, looking at him with concern, gentle as a moth. "Talk to me."

"I... I don't know how much longer I'll be here, Luke," Calum whispered. He feared Luke's reaction. He remembered sitting on that train that day, and he remembered seeing the blonde boy. This was before he regained any of his memories, but he remembered him looking so sad. He looked like someone had wrung him out and left him there to drain. Shoulders sagged, eyes sunken, a perpetual frown adorning his mouth. And now, he was a changed man. Bright smile, lively eyes. Calum didn't want that to go away.

Luke's lips flattened a little. "What do you mean?"

"That coffee... I made it and tried to pick it up, but my hands..." Calum spread them out in front of him, "they just slipped right through. As much as I tried, my fingers just went straight through anything."

Luke blinked a couple of times, processing.

Calum continued. "And then I went here to sit down, thinking maybe I was just paranoid. But when I sat down–– I don't know. I was thrown into complete darkness. Not just my vision but my entire body. I was somewhere else. Maybe where I was supposed to be all along, not here."

Luke just stared at him. Calum took his hands in his, again, grateful they were solid. "I died, Luke. As much as I wish this was just a second chance of life, I don't think that's what this is. I think this was an accident. Or, I don't know. Maybe I was put here to try and figure out who did it, so you guys can move on. Either way, I don't think I have much time left."

"Calum," Luke breathed, holding tight onto Calum's hands.

"I was never meant to be here, Luke," Calum said softly.

Luke's eyes glistened, but he looked at the fluorescent lights above that flooded the room until they were clear again. He shook his head. "It's just not fair."

"I know."

"You're only seven-fucking-teen."

"I know."

"There has to be a way for you to stay," Luke said. "You got here, didn't you? That means there has to be a way."

"Luke." Calum sighed.

"I'm not giving up on you, Cal," Luke said firmly. Then Luke's hands fell empty. Calum's fingers had slipped right through them. When Luke looked back up, Calum's entire body was almost translucent. Luke's heart leapt into his throat. Calum looked at himself frantically, holding his breath.

Luke tried to touch his shoulder, but he couldn't. It was like there was nothing there. He simply clawed at the air.

It took a few minutes, but eventually his body came back. Luke didn't quite believe he was solid again until he could wrap his arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Luke, don't you see––"

No. Luke wasn't going to let him go that easy. He repeated, with an imperative: "I'm not giving up on you."

---
A/N: hello all

hope you all are doing well in these times! I was curious-- where do you guys live?

right now i'm living in nashville. it's a fun time, lots of music and entertainment since its a big city! i'm planning on moving somewhere else in about a year or two but we will see :)

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I love you to the moon.

bye