"Are you sure you'll be okay?" James asks me for the nth time and I just smile, nodding.

After our failed attempted to find an online article about my death, and the amazing discovery I don't always give pain when I touch a human being, it's been a bit awkward between us. And by bit I mean unbearable awkward. I can barely meet his eyes without wanting to touch him again, without dying for him to hold me in his arms without having to carry with him the sorrows I'm so used to. I can't look him in the eyes without fearing he might see how desperately I need to feel that human contact after so much solitude. And because I can't control my emotions at will and I don't dare yet to take risks with James, I can't ask him to at least hold my hand again despite how much I need it, henceforth, I don't meet his eyes.

Later, after even watching a movie together in the same awkward silence, we realise it's late and he should sleep, because tomorrow he has classes and even if I don't need to sleep, he does so he can't stay awake all night just to keep me company, although it seems that's what he wants. He insists to stay with me in the living room, but I refuse.

"It's okay if you don't want to be alone and if it's hard. You probably feel the pull to your house," he continues and although I feel it, that need to go back home, I fight it. I'm conscious I can't go and it's not like I don't have control over my own soul.

"If I'm struggling too much I'll let you know, but as for now I'm perfectly okay," I reassure him but he doesn't seem convinced.

"I just feel oddly uncomfortable knowing I'm leaving you in the living room without even a blanket," he blurts out, cheeks flushed and anxious movements.

I chuckle, finding his attitude so charming and adorable, but keeping that to myself. "It doesn't make a difference. Even if you even lend me one of your hoodies I wouldn't be able to wear it. The moment you look away it'd fall to the ground."

"I just... I just don't think I can fall asleep knowing you'll be all night awake here, without anything to do."

"I'll find something to do. I've been doing this for fifteen years, remember? I haven't gone insane yet," I joke but he doesn't even smile. "What? Do you want me to sing you lullabies until you fall asleep?"

The jokes help me to ease the awkwardness between us, allowing me to actually meet his eyes.

"That wouldn't be that terribly," he shrugs and that light tone I had in my voice gets caught in my throat. "But if you're tone deaf, maybe you should stay here."

He gives me a smile that twists something inside me, so I have to look away for a second. I even have to cough to clear my throat before I reply.

"If that helps you, we can try that. Unless having a ghost in your room creeps you too much," I try to tease but he only smiles.

I know having a ghost around doesn't faze James, he's grown up surrounded by them, and he's really used to me. I even think he sometimes forgets I'm a ghost, considering he reacts the way he does, trying to offer comfort with a soft touch when he sees me so upset. I also think he doesn't like seeing me as a ghost, because he seems to struggle with the concept every time, and he avoids saying out loud that I'm dead. I don't dare to analyse that because if he's getting too attached to me that will only cause him pain, after all we're looking for the way for me to cross over. It's not just putting distance between us, it is actually leaving this realm to never see him again. If he is indeed growing fonder of me and even getting used to having me around, it'll only hurt him when I cross over.

Maybe that's why I make remarks of me being death so often. Things I never did before until he showed up, like joking about being a ghost, are now a thing as common as breathing for a living person. It's a way to remind him I am dead and I'll be crossing over, hopefully, soon so he shouldn't get attached to me. And I shouldn't get attached to him, either, because if I do then I won't want to cross over, to a realm I don't even know if exists. If I grow fonder of James I'd have a reason to stay and something tells me that isn't a good idea.

"I'll go wash up then. You can go to my room in the meantime," he says, breaking through my train of thoughts, and I just nod.

I end up waiting for him in his room, walking around paying attention to all details. He has a king size bed in the middle with a dark cover and white stuffy pillows. Like in the living room, a whole wall is just windows that lead to another balcony with a better view. Next to the wardrobe he has more shelves with some comic books, but most are pictures, amazing pictures from every corner around the globe, and it's clear these are all professional takes. I wonder if these are his parents'. Maybe instead of family pictures this is all he has, the only way to have them close. He also has another desk with different brushes, pens, pencils, ink and stacks of paper. I think he works on his graphic novel there. He also has a great sound system that looks too fancy for my poor understanding.

Every corner of this place reminds me James is from a very different social status, and I think it makes me happy that he doesn't wear that. I don't think I would've even approached him if he was a posh jerk that thought too little of everyone else.

I'm too caught up taking a closer look to the pictures to notice James is in the room, I don't notice him until he's behind me.

"That's when they were in Vietnam. They send me some pictures from every place the visit, along with a lot of cash," James tells me, startling me and making me bump into the shelf, almost making the things inside and the shelf itself fall over us. "Oi, careful there!" James cries out, stopping the shelf from smashing us with his hands, but also caging me between his arms.

I find myself trapped, between the shelf and James' body. I try to turn around, only to find him still there, looking down to meet my eyes, so close I can actually feel his breath tickling my nose. His dreads fall like a curtain around us, leaving me with the only option to see his face.

We are so close but we still don't touch and I feel like all my skin is buzzing, especially when he looks at me with such intent eyes. Because I don't know what to do, I just grab one of his dreads, something I've been wanting to do for a while, and blurt out, "Why dreads?"

He blinks, his expression showing confusion before he steps back, taking the dread from my fingers.

"Well, I like them and I have an impossible curly hair. It was always painful so the only other option was to cut it really, really short. Buzz cut, you know? But I guess it was also my way to rebel, you know? And try to get my parents' attention. Even if I did it unconsciously back then, I think it's because of that. And I've just stuck with it. Plus, many people are judgmental and ignorant about them so it helps to keep those people away, using their own prejudices as a shield," he explains and I'm surprised at how deep the reason behind his hairdo is.

"I think I've grown really fond of them," I smile. "And I'm learning about them a little bit."

James smiles before taking another step backwards, turning to his left and walking up to his wardrobe from where he takes a clean hoodie he then throws at me. I barely catch it, looking at it with a puzzled expression.

"I know you don't need it but it'd make me feel better if I see you in something more comfortable than a denim jacket. At least until I fall asleep," he explains with an easy smile.

I keep staring at the hoodie in my hands. It's dark red and really big, but it's also really soft and I wish I could smell because I have a feeling it would smell like James. I shrug off my jacket and dive into the hoodie that almost reaches the hem of my dress and which sleeves are way too long on me.

"I look ridiculous," I say, flopping my arms like a bird trying to fly for the first time, but James' expression is nothing but mocking.

"No, you look really cute," he says instead. He then heads to his bed where he gets under the sheets. "You can sit here. The bed is huge, after all. And once you fall asleep you can go anywhere, read a book or watch another movie. I taught you how it works," he says and I nod because I'm afraid my voice will betray me.

I know it is ridiculous for a ghost to feel this nervous. It's not like something can happen if James and I lie on the same bed, but still, my guts twist and I want to hide inside this hoodie forever. Yet I still walk towards the bed and sit at the other end, as far away from him as I can, watching him getting comfortable.

"What would you do if you couldn't cross over?" James ask me and I have to think about it.

"I dunno. I guess I'd be the same, still pretending I'm not dead and repeating the same routine day after day. I guess after a while I would even forget what we learnt today and I'd go on believing I've been like this for less than a year." I look at him, shoving my hands in the front pocket of the hoodie, and pretending that it's James the one embracing me instead of this cotton fabric. "I'd probably even forget you."

Saying that stirs something inside of me that actually hurts. Differently from the memories of the bullying, different from the pain I carry with me. This is a pain I feel in my chest, making me feel heavy with grief and for a moment I feel like crying.

"But that's the case if I weren't around," James says and I shake my head, both to dismiss his comment and to shoo the pain I'm feeling.

"You can't stay here forever. You'd eventually have to leave and craft your future away from this city, and even if I have nothing else here, I wouldn't be able to go with you. You know that," I tell him and his expression darkens with the same grief I'm feeling in my chest. "If we can't succeed at what we're trying to do, the best option is to forget. It's less painful," I add.

"I don't think I'd be able to forget you, Paige," he confesses in a whisper, stirring something new in my chest that makes me smile sadly at him.

I wouldn't either, I say in my mind because I can't utter those words out loud.

"Then I guess we can't afford to fail. We'll figure what happened to you and make sure you can solve your unfinished business," he says with newfound determination, but there's still a linger of sadness in his eyes. "We'll look into the old newspaper's records until we find something about your... accident. And if there isn't anything, then we'll find your class generation and we'll ask. I don't think it matters if we shock them a bit with questions about what happened fifteen years ago."

"Maybe if I see their faces I'll be able to remember more," I suggest and James nods.

I don't notice how I get more comfortable on the bed until I'm lying on my belly and with my face turned to watch James.

"Yeah, that might work. It seems you haven't lost your memories, you just have them locked them up in your mind. Like touching the urn triggered something and you could remember that," agrees James. "And if your unfinished business is to make them repent for what they did to you, whether that led to your accident or not, then we'll find a way to accomplish that."

"Why do you say accident?" I ask, focusing on that instead of his plead. "Why do you always avoid saying death or that I'm a ghost?"

James stares at me for a few seconds, almost confused for my question, as if I should know the answer but I don't. I can't be sure about it and I don't want to speculate. But I don't really want to know. I'm wary of what he might say and I regret having asked that, but I can't take my words back.

"'Cos it's hard to see you as a ghost when you feel more alive than other people I've met, or even other ghosts. And 'cos I guess I don't want to believe it, even if I saw your ashes," he replies.

"Why?" I breath out, a sound barely above the noise of his breathing.

"Just because," he says, but his eyes are so intense and carry more words than I can read, making my chest feel tight and stuffed, making my ghostly heart race inside my ribcage. "Just like you pretended to be alive, let me now pretend you're still alive."

I want to refuse, argue that it's not wise, and that this is a mistake. Instead, I say, quoting one of my favourite films, "As you wish."

~·~

I'm sorry I didn't update before, I was watching Chile's match against Peru. WE WON! WE ARE IN THE FINAL! jhsgahsfahjsga #ILoveFootball Anyhow, I had to scold James and Paige after this chapter for being too fluffy and not letting me carry on with the whole mystery of her death. Aish these guys!

Dedication to Sapheira1Dlover 

Remember you can follow me on twitter. I always reply and follow back those who ask for it. My username is the same @BelWatson and for IG is the other way around @WatsonBel

Bel, xx

NU: Thursday