"That’s inappropriate…"

"What is?" 

”..! Oh, nothing, nothing…”

"Heh…hope you don’t find it weird that I came up to you like that. I can’t help it sometimes, when I see someone going through a bad time I wanna help." He pauses and smiles gently, looking me in the eyes.

"You never know what someone could be going through." 

"…"

"That’s sweet…" 

"That’s what I wanna do when I get older, I wanna help kids that are going through stuff like, depression…y’know. I wanna help, maybe save a life." 

"Excuse me…"

- - -

Aha…my luck is running low as of late. The minute my eyes meet with that familiar face I can’t feel a thing. I can only stare until he speaks.

That stupid look he always wore. He’s looking at me not through me and he hasn’t done this in years. It’s different, I hear his voice when I’m wandering the halls or if I’m near all the time, but it sounds different directed to me.

"You okay? You look kinda shaken up…" 

What am I thinking? He’s not looking at me. I’m hit with the harsh realization that to him I…well I’m just a stranger. A classmate he’s never met before. 

Quickly I stand up and brush off, adjusting my…ahem…my…skirt.

"Mhm. Yes, I’m fine. I’m just…" I can’t find an excuse. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, before I can speak anymore he cuts me off. A habit of Alfred’s.

"You just look down in the dumps is all, hope it’s not weird that I just came over to you like this." He laughs, oh that laugh…

"I can’t help it when I see someone all by themselves lookin’ like you did. I don’t think we’ve even met before! I’m Alfred, by the way. Alfred F. Jones!" He looks proud of himself, and I’m smiling.

I don’t say my name because I quite frankly can’t think up one yet. I don’t know how I’m going to get myself out of this, he cuts through my thoughts quicker than excpected—

"I know you said you’re fine ‘n all, but I’m about to go get lunch. You can come with if you want." 

This is wrong, this is wrong. I repeat to myself again and again. This is so wrong and this won’t do me any good but…I-I can’t stop looking at his smile, and I might never again be able to do this. 

I can’t say no…he only means well. I keep thinking to myself that he knows who I am but that’s not true. I’m a stranger that he wants to cheer up…Alfred is like that.

I say yes, and he’s more than excited to take me along.

This is so wrong…

As if I wasn’t suffering enough from this wretched magic. I don’t like the feeling of being seen, it’s a feeling I’ve long forgotten, but now people are staring.image

They’re talking about me when I’m wandering the halls, bumping into people, feeling others around me instead of passing through. This is almost like a dream, good nor bad.

I’ll just…sit.

image

-Sigh-

What’s the point of this? I don’t want to see anyone, and no one wants to see me. I’m a stranger, I can barely walk in this body—(I don’t admire this ridiculous outfit either, I’m wearing a bloody skirt for god’s sake!!)

Fine, is this some sort of punishment? I look foolish enough, and I’ve long since wanted to disappear, and now I stick out in the crowds of lively students. Maybe…I’ve stuck out too much.

image

image

"Excuse me…" 

but now you’re gone // a gakuen ghost mix

[listen here]

i. gone to the dogs by kt tunstall // ii. green eyes by coldplay // iii. fools by lauren aquilina // iv. fragments by jaymes young // v. stop crying your heart out by oasis // vi. landfill by daughter// vii. how to save a life by the fray // viii. ghost by james vincent mcmorrow // ix. you by keaton henson // x. king by lauren aquilina

((This lovely person made an INCREDIBLY SAD playlist for the blog, it’s Alfred’s point of view in the story. Give it a listen, it’ll rip your heart out!))

image

Must have been the same magic.

I don’t know how to braid, but I suppose this is better than dealing with long hair.

What is the point of this? 

Anonymous whispered: Why do you look so thin and frail? I can see your cheek bones!

Blood loss, and being dead for so long has left me frail, I can’t entirely help it. 

WHA—DON’T ASK SUCH INAPPROPRIATE QUESTIONS.

If I had the choice, no. I wouldn’t have gone.

Call me what you’d like, but I never wanted to see my own grave. It’s a feeling I can’t describe and a feeling too hard to understand.