The Kieran who was alive had many ideas of what comes after death. Heaven. Hell. Something in between. A vicious cycle of life and death. Religious factors that dared to explain the unexplainable. Documentaries of people who claim to have died for a fraction of minutes before they were brought back to life for a 'second chance'.

Those ideas, however, never included the possibility of standing in a stuttering metro on a Saturday morning, next to a human boy he met less than a week ago.

"Don't you want to sit?" Lennon asked, tilting his head upwards to see Kieran under his bucket hat, "It's like a thirty-minute ride and you look incredibly tense— like you're about to stand at a murder trial."

A few other passengers gave him weird looks.

"And you look like you're talking to yourself," Kieran noted back, fingers wrapped securely around a metal pole.

Suddenly self-conscious, the chestnut boy ducked his head back down to avoid the stares, lips pressed into a thin line.

Pitying him, Kieran lowered himself down on the seat next to Lennon. "Take out your phone."

Lennon raised both eyebrows before reaching into his bag.

"Now press it against your ear like you're on a call."

He did as told.

"There. You can talk now. No one's gonna suspect a thing."

A smile burst across Lennon's lips, his posture straightening. "You're very fascinating, ghostie. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Kieran didn't seem thrilled at the nickname. "No— at least, I don't remember any of the sort." He muttered the last part.

The chestnut boy rocked back and forth in his seat, hands tucked under his thighs. "I wonder why I can see you and others can't. It's been bothering me all week," he admitted, "I feel... chosen."

"Or cursed."

"Or cursed," he agreed with a breathy laugh, "But this is the craziest thing that's happened to me all month— heck, all year. This is an experience way beyond my comprehension. I wish I could tell people. My brain is about to explode!"

Kieran sighed heavily. "Well, good for you."

Lennon's face fell, silencing himself grimly. He recognized that sigh— the kind often aimed in his direction when he forgot to filter his words or adapt to the quiet. The kind that gripped onto his soaring excitement and wrenched it back to ground level.

"How long did you say it'll take us?" the ravenhead asked, staring ahead. His undivided focus at the task at hand.

"Thirty minutes," Lennon replied under his breath.

Kieran finally turned his head, detecting the sudden drop of energy from the other. "What?"

Lennon shrugged, plastering on his best smile before turning to gaze out the window. He put the phone down.

It was dark. Mostly, he was met with streaks of yellow light as they swooshed by and the breeze that slipped through the cracks. He liked to imagine the metro as an underground mechanical snake, slithering and snapping, but tamed enough to know when to stop.

Kieran could not afford the luxury to daydream, not when every muscle in his body was rigid with possibilities of today's outcome. If somehow, he could learn to retrace his steps and dig out his roots, answers will present themselves to him.

He'll find his ticket. He'll leave this wretched place. And he'll never look back.

A whisper reached his ears.

"Hm?" Kieran looked at the chestnut boy, having missed his words over the loud rumble of the vehicle.

"Never mind." Lennon turned away.

"What? Just spit it out."

Lennon grimaced before leaning forward and speaking into the ravenhead's ear. "I still don't know your name."

Kieran shook his head. "I don't want to give you my name," he said. Direct and honest.

"Then what can I call you?"

The ravenhead waved dismissively at him. "Whatever you want."

Granting Lennon that power didn't come without a price. The chestnut boy pulled back, index finger drumming against his chin as he surveyed the other.

Kieran's hair was matted like he'd never been introduced to a comb before, yet he was nowhere close to unkempt. A navy turtleneck hugged the expanse of his chest snugly, complimenting black dress pants as if he had died as a newbie model who slipped off the runway.

That was Lennon's way of calling him attractive. Nevertheless, he will dig his own grave before admitting that out loud.

"You look like a very sophisticated Matthew," he concluded.

Kieran seemed genuinely surprised to hear this. "Do I?"

"Or a Timothy going through his emo stage. Except after that stage, he had no other stages."

The ravenhead nodded along. "Poor dude."

Lennon smiled. This one was genuine. He put his phone down again, only to raise it half a second later. "Will I ever see you again after today, ghostie?"

Kieran lifted an eyebrow at him, the metro slowing to a stop to let passengers off. "Probably not. But the day has just started and you're already thinking of the end?"

The chestnut boy paused. "I'm not good with time."

Kieran decided not to delve in deeper. "I see."

When they finally reached their destination, Lennon had to usher the ravenhead onto the platform. Kieran apologized, claiming that it's been a while since he'd taken any transport and the gap between the metro and the platform freaked him out more than it should've. Lennon opened his mouth to ask how long 'a while' was but decided against it.

It had been made very clear that Kieran wasn't interested in sharing and a part of Lennon was relieved their companionship will stay futile.

You can't miss someone you don't know.

Every once in a while Lennon would stop abruptly in the middle of the pavement, eyes fixed on certain objects before he continued his stroll.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Kieran asked. Maybe he shouldn't have expressed his doubts. But he was very on edge today, especially after following a stranger halfway across town.

"Yes." Lennon puffed out his chest and pointed at the bare tree slanted outside of a herbal tea shop. "That is a cherry blossom tree. The owners planted it. I remember thinking it was beautiful. I got curious and went in to ask about it."

The ravenhead hummed, suddenly coming to an understanding of Lennon's character.

When the boy failed to give him directions that night, he broiled with frustration. How could someone forget street names so easily?

Because Lennon had never been one to recite road signs and jot down notes. He was a photographer. He memorized visuals, he thought and recalled in terms of visuals.

"The owners said where they're from, cherry blossoms only bloom during April and they die so quickly," Lennon continued, "It represents the fragile nature of life yet it brings renewal. A brand new start. They look to that tree as reassurance. Isn't that lovely, Quincy? I took some great pictures."

It took Kieran a second to realize the boy had casually called him Quincy of all names. "Let's keep walking," he prodded.

"Sure."

But it didn't take Lennon more than three minutes to point out the next thing he found interesting. And then the next. And then the next.

And strangely, Kieran didn't mind hearing a mouthful of any of it. It took his mind off things. A delicious distraction for his inner turmoil.

"— and I remember imaging how funny it would be if one day all the paint that separated the road lanes disappeared," Lennon rambled on, prancing around the ravenhead as he recalled the construction he saw down the street, "Do you trust people enough to keep orderly fashion?"

Kieran snorted. "No."

"Why?"

"Because it's human nature to be selfish," the ravenhead elaborated, feeding off the distraction, "Because we're so selfish that we're the only mammals who decided to build an entire government system to keep each other in check."

That seemed to fuel Lennon's thought train. "That's very interesting of you to say, ghostie. In fact, I always wondered why animals lived off survival but our actions are constantly bound by our own morals."

"Okayy." Kieran cracked his neck, stretching his muscles out. "Where's the theater?" he asked, not wanting to get too sidetracked.

Lennon tried to nudge him but failed. Once again, it slipped his mind that his companion wasn't exactly touchable. "Here." He gestured grandly.

Kieran turned to face the towering building.

His stomach dropped to the ground.