I'll Share With You My Heartbeat

seven

Kieran had not the slightest idea of how things worked before he became a ghost. He stood with eyes bulging out of his skull, watching this chunky machine sort through letters faster than he could crave his tombstone. It separated them according to sizes and adjusted them so the addresses face the same way.

Perfect coherency, unlike the storm in Kieran's mind.

He was in the post office, holding onto that strand of hope that somehow the universe would guide him to the finish line— show him an address, a name, a letter.

But that feeling of familiarity never came. Nothing pulled him under more than his time at the theater— more than his time with that boy.

He walked through someone crouched by the shelves and scanned the labels for anything that caught his eye.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted his concentration. "Hey look, it's a cat."

Kieran's eyes widened, turning slowly to witness Socks strutting into the office. He was invisible to everyone around him, but clearly not to this black cat, whose eyes were locked on its target.

One of the workers reached down to pet him, only to be hissed at. Socks was a cat on a mission.

"Oh no— stay away from me." Kieran darted across the office and out the back door, far away from the approaching feline.

If the ground doesn't swallow him up, the cause of his second death may be cats. For a split second, he wondered if he'd been allergic before his death, but he had no recollection of that either.

He broke off into a sprint down the ally, letting a few people warp through him in the process. He must've started a wave of goosebumps, but that didn't matter, not when—

Lennon?

He skid to a halt, the chestnut boy's words echoing through his mind like a siren. If I need you I'll send Socks to drag you here immediately!

He turned around at once, taking a step back towards the post office, only to find Socks in his path, already on his heels. The lampposts highlighted its shiny black coat.

Kieran tried to keep his voice even. "Is Lennon okay?"

Socks sat down on the pavement and began licking its paw like it couldn't care less.

"Oh c'mon," the ravenhead tutted, sweaty hands sticking into pockets, "Don't act coy now. I was in the middle of something, so if this isn't about Lennon, I'll be on my way."

The cat meowed, short and simple, before leading the way to Lennon's apartment. Sighing, Kieran followed.

The journey home only irritated Kieran more. Socks constantly sped ahead of him, ignoring his pleas to slow down, and sometimes he'd yip at him just to see him flinch— to which the ravenhead began to snarl back childishly.

After two flights of stairs, Kieran walked through the apartment door and held the window wide open for Socks to jump back through. He nearly fainted when it pounced at his face.

It was getting dark, a warm hue of blue blanketing the kitchen and living room. He looked around, shocked by the fact that the chestnut boy was right— he came back.

"Lennon," Kieran said softly. His eyes trailed along every piece of furniture until it reached the couch, seeing the figure sprawled across it. "Lennon?"

He flicked on the light switch and gasped when it was bright enough for him to see the line on his arm— a rich, angry red that suggested blood, poorly mended with an assortment of kiddie bandaids.