Unseen

-15-

MO: "Modus Operandi". A particular way or method of doing something, especially one that is characteristic or well-established.

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"Is it April's fool? Did you lie to me and instead of a week I was out for months and now it's April and you're just teasing me?" I blurt out because that's the first thing that comes to my mind.

I heard all the explanation he just did and me asking this probably sounds dumb and repetitive, but I can't help it. Call me slow because that's how I feel right now. I can't process his words and the meaning of them because to my mind come flashes of that outburst he had the time I learnt he can see me. I also remember his tortured expression when talking about ghosts and his past experiences. I understand his reluctance perfectly, better that his newfound will to help me out this time. Whether his actions are guilt-driven or not, I think he is going too far. Considering his past record, the most logical thing is that he stays away from me and I wouldn't blame him for that.

Why did he change his mind? He can't be that guilty. We've cleared that up already many times, he can't be that dense.

James chuckles but I keep looking at him with wide eyes and blank expression because I still don't know how to react. "No, I haven't lied to you and this isn't any type of joke. I really mean it, Paige. I want to help you," he explains again and I just blink. "It's not that hard to understand, to be honest," adds James, shrugging with one shoulder only.

"Yeah, it is. First off, you already said no and I don't resent you for that, you have all the right to refuse and all the reason to. Second off, why now? Why did you change your mind and decide to help me? Can you even help me? How? I don't even know where to go first. With or without your help I'm still clueless and you would be only wasting your time," I rant, raising my voice a little bit by the end, a sign of desperation and frustration, I assume.

James looks down, avoiding my eyes for a few seconds and I use that chance to take a deep breath and calm myself. I'm overreacting, I can't just raise my voice because I can't understand the reasoning behind his words.

"I judged you harshly at first. I thought you were like every other ghost but you're not," he mutters without looking up and meeting my gaze. "You ask what changed my mind," continues James and this time he looks up and his blue eyes show an intensity that takes my breath away. We stay in silence for five heartbeats, just staring into each other's souls and it seems to me the air is charged with electricity. I can't move and I don't even dare to blink. "You changed my mind."

I can't reply, or move for what matters. I can just look at him as a weird feeling I can't describe goes up my body, from the tip of my toes to the top of my head, and it leaves me buzzing.

"If you changed your mind and don't want me to help, I understand. I just don't... I guess I don't want you to be alone," he explains next in a softer tone, almost like a caress.

"I-" my words get stuck in my throat, although I don't even know what words because my brain isn't working. "It's not that I just-" I sigh and finally break eye contact. I think that's what is not letting me think. "I'm just confused and I'd like help but I don't really know how you can do so. You've answered many of my questions already. I don't think there's more to do. And even if I appreciate you not wanting me to be alone, I don't want to cause you any sort of trouble. I am okay, I'm used to this already. You really don't have to do this." I briefly look at him to show him my sincerity.

I hate being lonely and not having anyone to talk to. I have to admit that these past few days-the ones I've been conscious of-have been like fresh air after being locked up for so long, despite the incredible high amount of angst. But even if I'd love to be around James and be able to talk to him, the idea of causing him pain or any sort of discomfort makes my chest tight and like a heavy weight is hanging from my shoulders. I rather be alone forever than causing him discomfort, even if he's willing to endure it.