I'll Share With You My Heartbeat

five

Kieran was no fraud. He had no recollection of any good deeds he might've done before his death, but he knew his moral compass. And right now, it was pointing towards the boy who was hunched over his small mountain of shoeboxes, disappointed in today's outcome.

"I'm sorry," the ravenhead said, watching him tentatively.

"Don't be," Lennon answered, too focused to look back at him, "I mean— you're a ghost. We should've had that one coming."

Ghosts don't appear in photographs. It was like another punch to the gut, another painful reminder that Kieran wasn't welcome in this realm of existence.

The ravenhead rubbed his forearm thoughtlessly. "Well, that means I still have my end of the deal to hold up."

"I don't hold it against you."

"What are you looking for?" Kieran inquired, peeking over his shoulder. He didn't know why he was so surprised to see the labeled shoeboxes filled with photographs and prints.

Lennon cleared his throat. "Trying to find an old photo that correlates with the theme so I can just submit that instead," he explained, finally turning around to meet his sloe eyes, "Seriously, I don't hold this against you."

Feeling the light twang of guilt in his stomach, Kieran kneeled beside him and scanned the mess of pictures. The boxes were mostly labeled with a marker, the one Lennon pushed to the side reading:

PRECIOUS

Kieran grabbed it out of peaked interest. "How about this one?"

"Ah," Lennon chuckled nervously, taking the box from him, "There's not much in there."

The ravenhead frowned. He swore that box was heavy in his hands.

Lennon placed it out of Kieran's reach and continued searching.

"Sorry if I'm overstepping," the ravenhead was quick to say, "I don't feel good about just— leaving after you went across town for me." He pursed his lips together.

The chestnut boy gazed up at him. "Oh you're not overstepping anything," he reassured, "I don't have much to hide, really." He gestured to a few other stacked boxes. "You can help if you want. I don't mind help... unlike some people." He faked a cough, purposefully making eye contact.

Tease.

Kieran tutted, smiling slightly despite himself.

He liked how apparent it was whenever Lennon was being playful. It was in his eyes, the way they glimmered with mischief. The smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. He was expressive to the point it seemed impossible to prove him anything other than genuine and pure.

"I don't need your help," the ravenhead mumbled before looking away, suddenly aware of how long it took for him to respond— suddenly aware of how he spent those seconds in between staring unabashedly at the boy.

"Hm, sounds very brooding bad guy of you, whatever your name is."

Whatever his name was.

"Lennon," the ravenhead spoke, steering the wheel back at the task at hand as he rummaged through the photos, "I need to know what essence without being means to you."

The chestnut boy leaned back, brows furrowed like his thoughts couldn't translate to coherent words. "I like to think it's all the things we can't see. Light particles— photons, the wind, the smell of spring. The essence of it without it being visually there," he listed, "I think that's the tricky part."

"What?"

"Photographing something but expressing more than what's visible to us."

Kieran hummed his understanding, nudging the box labeled SOCKS away from him and pulling the lid off another. "How long have you been doing this, Lennon?"