Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

July 2002

When Julie landed her position as a songwriter at the Hollywood Ghost Club, her boss, Caleb Covington, offered to pull some strings to get her a discounted apartment nearby. He talked about the place’s excellent acoustics and how a bunch of his most talented souls enjoyed the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, he did not mention the drafty windows. Or the faulty wiring. Or the ghost chilling in her fridge.

Or the leaky pipes.

Or the ghost chilling in her fridge.

Or the creaking floorboards.

Or the ghost chilling in her fridge.

His name is Luke – the ghost’s, not her fridge’s – and he’s been living (his words) here for about half a year. Well, actually, he’s been around for almost two years. Her apartment used to be his. Another detail nobody deemed worth mentioning when she signed the contract.

“If it helps, I didn’t die in here,” he tells her offhandedly while checking her fridge. “Fell down the stairs and cracked my skull open.” He shrugs, unnervingly casual about the entire being dead thing. Then, he proceeds to inspect the contents of her fridge. He spots the milk jug she’s storing in the door and tuts.

“Wouldn’t do that. The temperature in the door isn’t constant enough.”

He continues to berate her choices. How she should separate the fruit from the vegetables. How she should label the food containers. How she should organize her dairy products.

And Julie lets him. Because he’s clearly not real. Of course not. There’s no such thing as cute ghosts chilling in fridges.

Julie has always had a very fertile imagination. But this time, her mind has really outdone itself.

Tilting her head, Julie takes a moment to give him a once-over.

Damn, he’s really cute.

He’s white and maybe around her age. He’s wearing an orange beanie. But strands of messy dark brown hair are poking out from underneath, their ends curling up like little octopus arms. She can’t make out the color of his eyes. Maybe blue. Or grey. Or hazel.

His outfit screams all grungy punk rock – from his cut-off band tee to his ripped jeans. She can’t see his feet – he’s sitting in the drawer with his legs outstretched, feet disappearing in the counter. But Julie suspects he’s wearing scuffed vans. There are chains attached to his black jeans. They jingle when he twists his body to get a better look at the upper shelves.

Maybe it’s the light of the fridge, but he looks pale – like the colors have been washed out. And he’s also translucent. Julie can see right through his head.

He’s still giving out unsolicited fridge hacks. He’s a chatty one, huh? He’s been talking non-stop ever since Julie discovered him this morning. Julie huffs, rolls her eyes, grabs the bottle of orange juice, and closes the fridge. His voice dies instantly. Blissful silence.

Wild hallucinations and questionable state of the building aside, it’s a nice apartment. The living room with the open kitchen is spacious and light. Afternoon sunlight is streaming in through two windows. There are no curtains yet. And the beige walls are still bare. So are the IKEA bookshelves she and her dad had spent hours assembling over the last few days. (And for the record, she didn’t encounter any ghost, poltergeist or other form of revenant on any of those occasions.) She just moved in today, and most of her belongings are still stored away in boxes that are stacked up against the far wall of the room. She wonders if there’s any use in unpacking them. After all, she won’t stay here for long.

However, she did place a few colorful throw pillows on the black leather couch – a remnant of the previous tenant.

If Flynn were around, they wouldn’t waste a second. By midnight, they would have given this place a complete makeover before crashing on the couch, exhausted but happy and with plenty of pizza in their bellies. But unfortunately, Flynn isn’t around. She, too, got a position at HGC, but in the marketing and promotion department, which means a lot of traveling. Currently, she’s up north in the Bay Area. She’ll be back by early August. Hopefully, Julie would last until then.

She puts the juice on the counter next to a bag of bread and the peanut butter, then groans in frustration. She forgot the jam.

She stomps back to the fridge. When she yanks the door open again, her ghost is gone.

Julie smiles triumphantly. See, no ghosts. She must have been hallucinating. Julie blames the stress. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and the prospect of working for Caleb Covington as a songwriter while being unable to write music isn’t exactly soothing her nerves. 

Shaking her head, she grabs the jam jar and closes the door.

She turns, and suddenly he’s there again, not in the fridge anymore. He’s so close – their noses are almost touching.

Julie freezes. Her grip on the jar slackens. It slips out of her hands and hits the ground, glass splintering into pieces. Jam spills over the floor. Julie doesn’t notice. Neither does he. A big grin stretches his face. His eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Boo!”

Julie screams.

So does he.

Julie leaps back.

So does he – except there’s no fridge behind him to catch him. There’s just a window. He stumbles, and Julie’s breath hitches in her throat. She should warn him. She should rush to his help. But she can’t move. Horrified, she can only watch as he tumbles right through the windowpane.

“Oh fuck!” She finally snaps out of her shock and dashes to the window. Her heart’s pounding in her chest. Her fingers dig into the wood of the window as she peers outside. But the angle is all wrong. She can’t see the pavement. She’s about to open the window, fingers already fumbling with the latch, when a voice interrupts her.

“Don’t bother.” Julie whirls around. He’s in her kitchen again, sitting on her counter. “I’m dead. And I can’t leave this place anyway. Believe me, I tried.” His easy smile is gone now. He’s frowning at her. “You hear me.”

Julie just stares.

“And you see me?”

Julie continues to stare.

Nope, that’s not happening. Uh-uh. Ghosts, let alone cute ghosts, don’t exist. That’s crazy.

She must have mumbled that last bit aloud because the ghost’s face suddenly lights up. “We’re all a little crazy.” He winks at her.

Yeah, that’s the best way to summarize it. She’s crazy. She’s gone insane. All the stress has driven her nuts. She already feels the telltale signs of a headache. There’s pressure building up her eyes. Groaning, she closes them and tumbles over to the couch, where she flops down, head in her hands.

The ghost – Luke as she recalls – clicks his tongue. “Yeah, man, I did the same when I figured out I was  dead. Real bummer.” There’s a melancholy in his tone that startles Julie, and she peers through her fingers. His eyes are downcast, his shoulders hunched. His hands are balled into fists. The way he sits there – he looks so forlorn.  

Julie’s heart pangs with sympathy.

He’s been here for half a year, apparently stuck in this apartment, and she’s the first person able to see him. No wonder he was excited.  

Julie straightens her back and puts her hands in her lap, wringing them.

“I’m–,” she begins, just as a knock on her door interrupts her.

Her head swivels around. So does Luke’s. They both stare at the door, and Julie holds her breath.   

Maybe this is another figment of her imagination.

It knocks again.

Or maybe not.

“You’ve got a visitor,” Luke comments. He tries to play it cool. But he can’t hide his excitement. His entire body(?) is vibrating, and he swings his legs before he launches himself off the counter, bouncing on his heels.  

Right. Half a year of isolation must have driven him a bit stir-crazy.

Julie doesn’t exactly share his enthusiasm for answering the door. But reluctantly, she peels herself away from the couch, trudges over to the door, and peeks through the peephole. She sucks in a sharp breath. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“There are two dudes outside.”

“Neighbors?” Luke suggests, shrugging. “The walls are pretty thin, and you’ve got quite a set of pipes.”

Oh, fantastic. She’s been living here for less than a week. They’re off to a wonderful start.

Luke’s bounding over to her. But then, halfway between the kitchen and the door, he stops dead in his tracks. Suddenly, his eyes are wide with panic.

“Oh fuck, wait! What if–” he says just as Julie yanks the door open.

Luke’s words die in his throat. He makes a strangled sound that’s half a cry, half a sob. It’s a gut-wrenching sound.

So, he knows them.

Julie fights off the urge to turn around and check on him. She can’t. Not with two guys looming on her doorstep.

Like Luke, they’re white and about her age. Guy #1 is blonde and lean. But his height seems to make him uncomfortable. He’s ducking his head as if trying to make himself smaller. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips, but it’s uncertain. And kinda … sad. His hands drop to his side where he wipes them nervously across his black pants.

Guy #2 is less reserved. He’s smaller – about Luke’s height. His hair is dark, almost black, and slicked back into a pompadour. He’s wearing a black leather jacket that doesn’t quite match his boyish face. His cheeks are dotted with freckles, and his eyes are a vibrant green. He’s beaming at her.

“Yeah?” Julie asks, eyes dancing between the two strangers.

“We’re sorry to bother you,” tall guy says. He’s keeping his voice low, gentle. Like he’s desperate not to scare her off. In theory, it’s a sweet gesture. But also a bit creepy.

Behind her, Luke’s gone strangely quiet. Julie doesn’t risk glancing at him again.

It’s a weird situation. Not exactly threatening. Not really. Still, Julie feels the urge to retreat into the safe confines of her apartment. Her clasp on the door tightens, ready to shove it into their faces.   

Tall guy seems to notice her growing discomfort. His eyes bug.

“Oh, fuck, we’re scaring you, aren’t we? Fuck! I swear we aren’t creeps. We’re just … we’re your neighbors. And I was over at Reggie’s place–” he gestures frantically at the door across the hall “–when we heard you scream. And I thought that’s odd. What if you ran into a burglar? So we argued about calling the police. But what if it was false alarm? But what if it wasn’t? We know you’re living alone because we saw you moving in, and, oh shit, that makes us sound even more creepy. We’re not, I promise. We’re– I’m gay, actually.” His final confession is barely a whisper. It must have exhausted his ability to articulate himself as well because he turns to his friend, desperate for help.

His friend, Reggie, is still grinning from ear to ear.

“Hi,” he says, waving cheerfully. “I’m Reggie.” He jabs his thumb at his friend. “And that’s …”

“Alex,” tall guy – Alex – says. “And I’m sorry.”

Julie bites back a laugh. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Thank you for checking in on me. You’re being good neighbors.” She smiles, and Alex exhales in relief. Then Julie holds out a hand, opening her door further in the process. “I’m Julie.”

Reggie is first to grip her hand, shaking it enthusiastically. His fingers are calloused. Mr. Covington mentioned that all the tenants are musicians working for HGC. So maybe a guitarist. Or bassist.

Alex is more careful. He wipes his hands again before he takes hers. He doesn’t have any callouses, and his hand is warm and still slightly sweaty.

“So, you’re alright?” Alex asks, letting go of her hand. Immediately, his hands fly back to his pants, rubbing his thighs like he’s desperate to scrub his hands clean. “No burglar? No psycho stalkers? No intruders at all?”

She chances a glance at Luke, who hasn’t moved. He stands there between kitchen and hallway, looking supremely helpless.

“Yes … I mean no. No burglars. No stalkers. No intruders. I’m fine. Totally.” She chuckles. It’s forced and awkward, and her hands flail while she’s talking. Alex isn’t the only one who has a rough time with giving good first impressions. “And I’m so, so sorry for disturbing you guys. I just thought I saw something.”

Alex frowns. “Like what?”

“Uhm …”

“Oh no,” Reggie exclaims, eyes wide with horror. “Don’t tell me Luke escaped again?” Reggie rakes a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Shoot.”

“Luke?” Julie gasps, and she instinctively turns her head to look at Luke.

To her surprise, her ghostly roommate just rolls his eyes.

“Of all things he could have done to honor my memory, he decided to go to a pet store, buy a hamster, and name it after me.”

Julie blinks. That’s … wow.

“Hey, buddy, you here?” Reggie asks, craning his neck to get a better look inside her apartment. “It’s daddy!”

Alex grabs his shoulder and jerks him back. “Dude! It’s her place now. You can’t barge in there like that anymore.” He gives Julie an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. A friend used to live here. But he …” He swallows thickly. “He had an accident. He’s …” Alex’s voice breaks, and he closes his eyes.

Dead, Julie concludes. She casts a look over her shoulder. Luke’s not meeting her eye.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Julie condoles. She smiles at Alex, and he smiles back, sad but grateful. Even Reggie’s cheerful demeanor has been doused. His smile falls, and his shoulders drop. His eyes become glassy. He blinks rapidly to keep his tears away.

The silence that follows is awkward, only disturbed by Reggie’s rising sniffles. Julie desperately wishes there was anything for her to say. Anything for her to make them feel better. But there isn’t. Julie knows that. She truly does. After her mother’s death three months ago, many people have tried to cheer her up. Sometimes, she’d been grateful for their efforts. Sometimes, she’d been raging mad.

Nothing, no hollow phrases or complacent words, can take the pain away.

The pause stretches. It’s bordering on awkward when Alex finally breaks the silence.

“Okay, we’ve bothered you long enough.” He claps Reggie on his back. “Let’s head back.” Gently, he veers him away. She hasn’t known Reggie for long. But the way he’s slouched over, head hanging low – it seems totally, totally wrong.

And suddenly, it’s Julie who feels compelled to say something – anything to make him feel better.

“Don’t worry about your hamster,” she assures him. “If I see him, I’ll let you know.”

Suddenly, Reggie lifts his head. “How’d you guess Luke’s my hamster?”

Julie’s eyes widen. Fuck. “Uhm. I’m not sure. You just, uh, strike me as a hamster person.” She smiles.

Reggie still blinks at her, astonished. Then his face lights up, and he’s smiling again. It’s still a bit wobbly, though. “Sweet.”

Meanwhile, Alex’s smile has disappeared. He’s eying Julie – not hostile, but wary. He didn’t buy her lie. (She doesn’t even blame him. She wouldn’t either.)

“So, your hamster,” Julie continues. “Luke, right? Does he escape a lot?”

“Oh yes,” Reggie says, nodding gravely. “Luke doesn’t like rules.”

Alex snorts. “Yeah, that’s certainly something he has in common with–” He cuts himself off. He shakes his head. “Never mind.” He smiles again. But it lacks its genuineness from earlier. Instead, the look in his eyes seems haunted. “Enjoy your evening, Julie.”

“You, too.”

She smiles back one last time before closing the door. The door clicks shut, and Julie slumps. She releases a long but relieved sigh.

That surely wasn’t how she imagined meeting her neighbors would be like.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Luke states, and Julie jerks her head around to glare at him. But Luke’s face is neutral, his voice devoid of any teasing. It’s just a matter-of-fact observation.

Julie closes her eyes and leans her head back against the door. “I know,” she groaned. Lying has never been her strong suit.

Luke doesn’t comment on her self-assessment, though, which surprises her. He’s been so talkative before. Julie peels her eyes open again. Luke’s leaning against the counter, hands gripping the edge of the countertop. His face is unreadable. And while Julie can see right through his head, she cannot look into it. She’s got a good guess, though.

The sound he made when he recognized his friends … it’s still haunting Julie.

“Your friends,” Julie says after a heartbeat, “Alex and Reggie, they seem like great guys.” A bit weird. But who is she to judge.

His expression softens, and a smile tugs on his lips. “They are. Maybe not the best at first impressions, though.”

Julie rolls her eyes. But there isn’t as much annoyance to it as before. It’s good-natured. “You’re one to talk.”

“In my defense, I didn’t expect you to hear me.” He shrugs. “Or see me.”

“Why?”

“Nobody ever has. Not since I …” His smile falls, and he drops his gaze. “… died.”

There’s a finality to the word that sends a shiver through Julie’s body. She tries not to dwell on it.

Right. The invisibility thing. Luke mentioned that before. And Julie’s inclined to believe it. Surely, Reggie or Alex would have mentioned their dead friend hanging around in her apartment if they had seen him.

So why does she see him?

When she asks him, Luke merely shrugs. “Maybe it’s a you thing,” he suggests. “Maybe you’re like that kid from The Sixth Sense that sees ghosts?”

“Yeah, sure,” Julie scoffs. “I’ve been surrounded by transparent people all my life.” Truth be told, she wouldn’t mind these days. Seeing ghosts would mean she could speak to her mom again.

Luke jerks up, straightening his back. “Wait, I’m transparent?”

“Uh, yes?” Julie tilts her head, sizing him up. She can see the front of her cupboard right through his head. “I mean, you’re not pearly white. Not like Casper and his stupid uncles. But, uh, definitely see-through.”

Luke raises his left hand up to his eyes, inspecting it. His eyes are alight with curiosity. “Interesting.” He holds his hand up against the kitchen lamp as if expecting the light to pass right through. He frowns. “Seems normal to me.”

Julie levels him with a stern look. “You mean as normal as hanging out in a fridge?”

“Touché.” Luke smiles sheepishly. He has a really good smile. It makes his eyes crinkle. It’s also contagious. She has to avert her face to hide hers.

Maybe it could work. Sure, Julie is not quite sure she’s entirely wrapped her head around the idea of sharing her space with a stranger, let alone a supernatural being. Wait, he’s a ghost. Does that mean he has powers? Like magic? Could he do magic?

Julie glances at him again. Except he’s gone.

Blinking rapidly, Julie looks around. “Luke?”

No response.

Unsure, he pushes herself away from the door and ventures into the kitchen. But there’s no sign of him at all. Just the broken jar on the floor. The jam has seeped between the cracks; the floor is sticky and covered with shards.

Julie can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed.

Dejected, grabs a roll of paper towels and crouches down next to the fridge to clean up the mess. Careful not to cut herself, she picks up the shards. While she does, she only vaguely registers the stuttering sounds coming from her fridge. Maybe the compressor is broken.

The next morning, there’s still no visible trace of Luke, and Julie begins to worry. Whether about her missing ghost or her slipping sanity, she isn’t sure. But she worries. Right until she opens the fridge.

“Morning.” Luke flashes her a big, goofy grin.

It is important to note that this time, Julie did not scream. She did yelp, though. Just a little.

Luke’s folded up in her fridge, knees drawn to his chest, and arms looped around them. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Do ghosts actually get changed? Does he have spare clothes? Do ghosts even sleep?

Julie shakes her head.

It doesn’t really matter right now. It’s 8:30 am, and Julie’s about to have her first day at a job she is so not equipped for, and there isn’t any caffeine in her system yet.

She’s absolutely not in the mood for his ghost antics.

Without a word, she grabs the milk and slams the door shut.

“Hey,” Luke shouts, stumbling through the fridge door into the kitchen. “That was kinda rude!”

Julie ignores him decidedly.

Since most of her kitchenware and appliances are still packed away in boxes, there isn’t much for her to fix a proper breakfast. (Or coffee, for that matter.) Still, she’s got her favorite bowl and a package of cereal. She dumps about a quarter of the box into the bowl, then pours milk over it.

It’s not the most appetizing meal, and Julie isn’t feeling particularly hungry. The prospect of today makes her stomach churn. But she has to eat. She isn’t going to risk the embarrassment of a rumbling stomach.

Just as she dips a spoon into her breakfast, Luke hoists himself on the counter.

“So, big day, huh?” he asks. Unlike Julie, he’s in a good mood. And that’s extremely aggravating. Her fingers clamp around the spoon. “Since you live here, you must have landed a job at HGC. The place isn’t too bad. I mean, yeah, it’s not the same as standing on a stage, obviously. That feeling’s unmatched. But it did pay well. And the equipment they have is rad. Could never afforded that. And you already met Alex and Reggie, so you know the people working there are cool.”

Julie shouldn’t be surprised by the revelation that Luke used to work for the Hollywood Ghost Club (wow, prophetic name). But she is. It makes sense, though. All of the tenants work for HGC. Why should that exclude the former ones?

Luke’s now rambling about a nearby diner where HGC employees get a discount. Apparently, they’re making some meatball subs that are just “gnarly”. The mere thought of it makes Julie’s stomach recoil. 

Julie wishes he’d stop talking. She doesn’t want to hear about the job or the label. What she wants is to wallow in misery and self-pity. She also wants to throw up, but that’s beside the point.

Unfortunately, if she’s learned anything about Luke so far, it is that he hardly ever shuts up.

“Oh, but you better watch out for Covington, though.” His tone has changed. His voice is laced with bitterness. “That guy’s a bastard. He tried to screw me over all the time. Took me a while to figure that one out.”

He sighs. Heavy. Grieving. Under different circumstances, it would have made Julie feel sorry for him. But Julie’s too focused on keeping her food down. Scoop. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.

“He has the rights to some of my best songs. That still sucks. But …” Suddenly, his tone is light again. Almost mischievous. A wicked gleam enters his eyes, and he smirks impishly. “… once I realized he was fucking me over, I started doing the same. Made him furious. He suspected it at some point, I guess … that I kept the good songs for the band. Hey, wanna hear one of our songs? So from musician to musi–”

Julie’s grasp on the spoon slackens. It slips through her fingers and clatters in the ceramic bowl.

Luke ends his monologue abruptly, looking at her in surprise. “You okay?”

No. But that’s none of his business.

“Why are you here?” she asks instead.

Her question catches him off-guard. He blinks at her, confused by the sudden change of topic. “Uh, what?”

“Why are you even here?” Julie’s voice is quivering. Even she can’t tell why.

Luke shrugs. “I live here.”

“But you don’t,” Julie argues. “You’re dead.”

“So?” He’s trying to sound casual. But the anger is simmering underneath his translucent skin. His easy smile and joviality are long gone.

Maybe she should let go of it. But she doesn’t.

“So why are you here?” Julie asks again. “Why are you still here? I know it sucks, but this isn’t your place anymore. I mean, look around. All your stuff is gone. So why are you hanging out in my fridge when your friend lives right across the hall?”

Luke’s face contorts in anger. His brows furrows; his eyes flash dangerously. “What’s your deal?” he snaps. There’s another emotion flickering in his eyes. Hurt.

Julie feels a shaft of guilt. She’s on edge. But this isn’t Luke’s fault. She knows that.

Frustrated, she throws up her arms, groaning in the process. “Just stop talking about music.” She abandons her half-eaten meal and brushes past Luke, who’s still glaring at her, half-angry, half-confused.

“But you’re a musician!” Luke shouts. It’s a good thing that nobody but her can hear him. His voice would have woken up the entire building. “You gotta love talking about music!”

“But I don’t,” she snaps back. She isn’t a musician. Not anymore. She’s fake. An imposter. “I don’t like music. In fact, I hate it.”

Luke stares at her, baffled – like she just slapped him. “What?”

Julie almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

Instead, she grabs her messenger bag and slings it over her shoulder. Without a word, she marches over to the door and yanks it open.

She’s already out in the hall when she stops, spinning around, facing him one last time.

“Just stay out of my business,” she warns him off. Then, for good measure, “And my fridge.”

Then she slams the door shut.

Onboarding passes in a blur.

Julie remembers being greeted by a secretary with a kind smile. She remembers being ushered into a tiny, cramped office where she put her name under various documents. She does not remember the contents of those documents. Not precisely. She does recall some of the titles, though. She remembers reading terms like confidentiality agreement and transfer of rights agreement. The last one stirs something in her mind, and she hesitated. Luke mentioned that Caleb Covington holds the rights to some of his songs. But she has been too preoccupied to pay much attention.

Still, it makes her pause. She fidgets with the pen. Has Luke signed a similar contract? Is that the reason why Caleb Covington owns some of his songs?

The secretary, Enrique, doesn’t miss her hesitation. His fixed smile slips off his face.

“Anything the matter?”

“No,” Julie says hurriedly. “No, not at all.”

She shakes her head feverishly and signed the contract. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t possess any musical talent – not anymore. She won’t produce anything worth publishing.

Then, she is handed a keycard and a slip of paper with her logon information, and she is given a tour around the building. They visit the recording booths and the sound studio. Luke’s right. The equipment is state-of-the-art, brand-new, and shiny. HGC doesn’t hesitate to show off.

As they wander the maze of corridors, they eventually run into Reggie, who gives her a warm, welcoming smile and a wave. Julie also catches sight of Alex. But he’s too distracted to notice her. Seated behind an HGC-branded drumkit, he’s twirling his drumsticks nervously while talking to a tall man with tanned skin and dark, long hair. Julie could have been mistaken. But she is almost convinced there was a blush creeping up Alex’s neck. 

Then they venture up a staircase and arrive in an open-plan office. The cacophony of sounds assaulting Julie’s ears is overwhelming. There are too many. The shrill ringing of phones. People debating loudly with each other over the phone or across the mid-height room dividers. There are the clacking sounds of people hammering on their keyboards.

Julie grimaces.

This isn’t the creative sanctum she’s expected. But, like earlier, it didn’t really matter. So she dutifully trudges behind Enrique as he shows her to a desk by the windows.

That’s where she is now, standing by her assigned desk, inspecting it. There isn’t much to see. A desktop computer (a newer model, given the Windows XP sticker on the chassis) is placed on the desk with a flatscreen monitor sitting on it. There’s a keyboard and a mouse, a desk lamp, a landline, and an empty letter tray. She’s even been offered a cell. But Julie refused. This job already haunts her without 24/7 access to her life.

“I’m going to inform Nick you’re here. Why don’t you befriend your new companion while you wait. Your login info is on the tower. Don’t forget to update your password. IT will show you how if you need help.” He gestures at the PC.   

Julie has no idea who Nick is. But she nods anyway.

Given Enrique’s pleased smile, it was the expected reaction. The next second, he’s gone, off to fetch Nick.

Being left alone in the middle of a bustling office makes her feel extremely self-conscious. Nervous, she glances around. But none of the other employees pay her much attention.

So she unhooks her bag, places it at the feet of the desk, and settles on the swivel chair. The paper slip is still clutched in her hand. She puts it on the desk and reaches forward to boot up the PC. Just as her fingertips touch the button, her eyes catch sight of a pencil cup. She pauses, frowning at the cup. It’s not the pencil cup itself that has caught her interest but the pens inside. Most of them are ordinary black pens branded with the HGC logo. But among them is a blue pencil that sticks out. It looks misplaced. Curious, Julie takes it.

It’s a personalized pencil. Letters are stenciled into the casing. Julie rolls it in her fingers to get a look at the engraving.

Luke.

As if being burned, Julie drops the pen. It clatters on the wooden surface.

Was this … did Luke work here? Did she not only rent his apartment but also inherit his workplace?

She inspects the items on the desk closer. But aside from the pencil, there’s no evidence that this desk has ever been occupied.

Stealthily, Julie glances around. There are multiple desks surrounding her, and even the ones currently unoccupied are littered with personal items and knickknacks. Family photos and Discmans and one with those weird little trolls with neon hair.

But Luke’s desk is empty.

Just like the apartment when Julie first set foot into it.

And suddenly, it hits her.

For the first time, Julie is confronted with the full gravity of the situation. Luke’s dead. He doesn’t exist anymore. He’s gone. And so are his belongings. Cleared out. Thrown away. Trashed. Maybe a few items have survived a rigorous cleaning. Now, they’re memorabilia put on display on mantelpieces and shelves where they’ll gather dust.

Was it really so easy to erase somebody’s existence? Pack up their stuff and shove it into a tiny storage space, or just dump it on the street for someone else to make use of?

Would this, eventually, happen to her mom’s things too?

The thought fills Julie with dread and sadness, and she shudders.

She doesn’t want to think about it.

Shaking her head, she distracts herself by picking up the pencil again. She didn’t notice before, but it has been crudely customized. ‘My name is’ has been scribbled next to ‘Luke’.

She bites her lip in order to conceal her smile. It’s such a pointless line – it’s oddly hilarious. Julie wonders if it is some sort of inside joke. Maybe she can ask Luke about it when she gets home-

“Are you Julie?”

Julie yelps and almost drops the pencil again. With her heart racing in her chest, she turns. A guy is standing by her desk, leaning casually on the cubicle divider. He’s young, not older than her, with floppy blonde hair and a very charming smile. Also, unlike Luke, he’s very, very opaque. So, most likely not a ghost.

Julie stares at him with comically wide eyes, and his smile slips off.

“Oh damn, did I startle you?” he asks, sounding concerned. “I’m sorry. I’m Nick.”

Oh, that’s Nick. Julie tilts her head. He’s really cute.  He’s white and blonde with blue eyes that look at her expectantly.

With a start, Julie realizes it’s her turn. Her eyes widen with panic.

“Yes,” she says hurriedly, “No, wait. No. You didn’t startle me. I just … I got distracted. But that was my fault. Yes, I’m Mulie Jolina …” She trails off, blinking rapidly while her own words sink in. Oh.

A warm blush blooms on her cheeks. 

Nick chuckles. It’s a nice sound – melodic and soft. But unfortunately, it fuels her embarrassment. Her face grows even warmer. Her skin prickles. She grimaces.

“Can we start over again?” Julie asks, pleading. “I’m Julie.”

“Nick,” Nick says. “And I’m your writing partner.”

Julie frowns. “Writing partner?”

Nick nods, expression turning serious. “Yeah, one of the writers left a couple of months ago. He was also a guitarist. They couldn’t find a replacement that could do both.” He shrugs. “So, the position got split. But we are still expected to work together.” Julie wonders if he’s talking about Luke. But he continues before she can ask questions. “They didn’t tell you, huh? Truth be told, I’m not much of a songwriter. But I listened to the piece you submitted for your application. It was amazing!”

A few months ago, his praise would have filled her with pride (and also a good chunk of embarrassment). She would have been flattered. Now, it only makes her stomach drop.

The worst of it? His praise seems totally genuine. He means it.

Julie forces a smile anyway. “Yeah, it … I wrote it for a class.”

“You have a degree in music?”

Julie nods stiffly, and Nick beams at her. His smile is perfect. It’s blinding, and his teeth are sparkly white. He shouldn’t be working for a label. He should be doing ads for dental products.

Nick’s nice. Very nice. And very cute. And Julie thinks she likes him.

But just like Luke this morning, he’s prodding at a wound that is better left alone. It will never heal.

The song. The application. The degree. That was all before. Before her mother’s death. Before, when music had been a safe haven and a source of comfort.

Today, it’s a burden.

“Hey,” Nick says suddenly, startling Julie from her thoughts. “It’s lunchtime. And there’s a diner across the street that gives us a discount. Do wanna head out and grab some food?” He shrugs again. It’s an attempt to be casual. But his cheeks are tinged pink. “To get to know each other.”

“Sounds great!” Julie says with a fixed smile. It feels more like a grimace. “I, uh, heard they make a great meatball sub.”

“Oh? From whom?”

“Uh, a friend.” She jumps to her feet and moves to grab her bag. “Wanna go?” Her sudden eagerness takes Nick aback for a moment. But then his smile is back.

“Sure.”

As she follows him outside, she slips Luke’s pencil into her bag.

It’s almost 8 when Julie staggers up the stairs. She’s tired. And hungry. And her head is spinning.

Is this it? Is this what the rest of her life will look like? Spending the better part of her days in a crammed, noisy office, staring blearily at a screen, eyes dropping before being allowed to head home, crashing on her couch, too groggy to do anything?

Yeah, she’s going to have a bright future ahead of her. This was all supposed to be a stepping stone toward something greater. She knows she’ll fail at this, it’s inevitable, but now she’s seriously worried for the rest of her life.

Her foot catches on the last step. She stumbles but avoids the fall. She considers that a win. She trudges over to her apartment. Fumbling with her keys, it takes her two attempts before she manages to unlock the door. She opens it, but then Julie stops on the threshold, suddenly unsure.

The apartment looks exactly as she left it almost 11 hours ago. Her moving boxes haven’t magically unpacked themselves, and her cereal bowl with her half-eaten breakfast still stands on the counter.

The sight of her apartment, still so devoid of any personal touch, makes her pause.

When Julie first set foot into that empty apartment (together with her dad and Flynn while Carlos visited Mom at the hospital), she saw a lot of raw potential. She’d just signed with HGC and was about to graduate college and start a life filled with friends, family, and music. She’d been so excited.

Then her mom died, and she came back to the empty apartment, feeling like she fit right in with all the unused potential.

Had Luke been around while they viewed the apartment? But why didn’t she see him then? And what did it feel like for him, having to watch a stranger move into a place that used to be yours? And had he been around when his stuff had been moved out? Had he been forced to watch while his friends and family had snooped through his belongings and put them away into cardboard boxes? Julie doesn’t even want to think about it? Watching all your possessions, your entire life being stripped away from you … having a stranger move into your apartment while you’re stuck in that place …it must be horrible.

This used to be Luke’s place.

Julie looks around. But again, there’s no sign of him. But she’s got an educated guess where he’s hiding. Tossing her bag on the couch as she walks by, she heads straight to the kitchen. As she passes by, Julie peers into the bowl and grimaces. Her cereal has turned into glop. The broken jar is gone, but the floor by the fridge still feels sticky, and the floorboards creak as she steps on it.

She knocks on the fridge door. There’s no response. But there’s this stuttering sound again she heard yesterday. Maybe the compressor isn’t broken at all.

Luke’s in there again.

He doesn’t acknowledge her. Doesn’t even look up. His right foot taps along to a melody only he can hear. His shoe keeps passing through her butter. She really hopes there’s no such thing as ghost dirt.  

Julie breathes in, then says, “I’m sorry.”

Luke stops mid-movement but doesn’t turn to look at her.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t fair to tell you to leave. This … this is your place.”

To her surprise, Luke shakes his head. He closes his eyes, defeated.

“No, you were right. It isn’t. Not anymore. I know that.” He heaves a sigh. (Interesting that he can still do that.) “And if I could leave this place, I would.”

“You can’t?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter how I try – by walking out the door or passing through a wall.”

“Or falling out a window.”

“Or that,” Luke admits, and an involuntary smile tugs at his lips. It wears off quickly. “As soon as I leave, I get dragged back, and the next thing I know I’m sitting in the fridge again.”

“Why? And why the fridge?”

He shrugs. He’s just as clueless as her. “It’s a cool place.” His expression turns smug. “Very chill.”

Julie scoffs and rolls her eyes, but there’s no malice behind the gesture. Mild exasperation, maybe. “It’s not even your fridge.”

“I know. But yours is much cooler. And cleaner. And newer.”

That is … not a surprising revelation whatsoever.

They both fall silent, and Luke’s right hand wanders to his hip, reaching for a blue rabbit foot that is attached to his jeans. Absent-mindedly, he rubs it.

Suddenly, there’s a rumbling sound as her refrigerator’s compressor jumps to life, and Julie can feel a waft of cold air on her skin. She shivers.

“Yeah,” Luke says, clicking his tongue. “You might wanna close the door again. This can’t be good for your milk.” Pointedly, he waves towards the milk jug she still stores in the door.  

“Wanna get out first?”

He’s stunned by her question, but only for a moment. Eventually, he unfolds himself and staggers out of the fridge. He’s still wearing the same clothes, and with all his things, including his clothes, gone, Julie suspects that won’t change. It also reminds her of the discovery at work.

“Oh, I gotta show you something!”

She spins around and hurries to the couch, where she dumped her bag. She grabs it just as Luke materializes next to her. Right, ghosts have teleportation skills. Yeah, very handy.

She shakes her head, shaking off the thought. She opens the zipper of her bag and rummages through it until her fingers clasp around the pencil. Luke’s pencil.

“I found this.”

She extracts it and holds it out to him. Luke’s breath catches in his throat. (Do ghosts even breathe?)  

“That’s mine.” His voice is husky and his eyes glassy. A soft yet sad smile plays on his lips.

Luke reaches out, but his hand stops before he touches the pencil. It hovers awkwardly in the air.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t.”

To prove his point, Luke moves his hand as if to take the pencil. His fingers pass right through.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He retracts his arm and shoves both of his hands into his pockets. Then he flops down on her – formerly his, Julie realizes with a start – couch. The fake leather doesn’t dip. “It was a gift from the boys.”

No wonder it makes him sentimental.

Julie hesitates only for a moment before she joins him, settling into the cushions. Unlike Luke, she sinks in. She bites her inner cheek, suddenly nervous. She knows she shouldn’t be prying – not after telling him off this morning. But she’s been wondering about it all day. Eventually, her curiosity gets the better of her.

“My name is Luke?”

Luke chuckles. “It’s a song I wrote when I was 16.”

“And you named it after yourself? I see.” She giggles. “Very humble.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaims in mock offense. “It’s actually very deep, you know.” His features soften. “Wanna hear it?”

At once, Julie’s body stiffens, and her heart stutters in her chest. She’s clasping the pencil tightly, nails digging into the flesh of her own hand. Her fingers are clammy and cold.

Luke’s a ghost. He neither has a body nor a heart. But he used to. He used to be a human. A very perceptive one, by the looks of it. A very pushy one, too.

He notices her discomfort, turning toward her. “Why do you hate music so much?”

Julie doesn’t want to confess. But she not only owes him an apology, he also deserves an explanation. She takes in a long breath, gathering her thoughts.

“I don’t hate music,” Julie confesses in a low whisper. “Not really. I, uh, actually used to love it. My mom was a musician and a music teacher. She taught me how to sing and play the piano. We, uh, our garage got converted into a music studio. We spent every free minute there, making music together. And I loved every second of it.” She truly did. Making music with her mom had been the best time of her life. “I even went to a performing arts school and enrolled at university to study music. It had been such a huge part of my life, you know.”

Luke hasn’t said a word since she started talking. She doesn’t dare glance at him. She knows he’s been hanging on her lips. With her right hand, she’s still holding on to the pencil. Her other hand rests on her thigh.

“A year ago, my mom got sick. It was a shock. For all of us. My mom, too, I guess. But she never let on. She always put on a smile and told us not to worry. She always assured us she’d get better. But I think she knew.” Julie sniffles, and her left hand balls into a fist, twisting the material of her pants. Tears prick in her eyes. Her voice is choked with despair.

“I considered taking a year off to spend more time with her. But she insisted that I graduate first. So I did. I graduated and applied for a job as a songwriter at HGC. She was so proud when I got hired. She, uh, died a week later.”

Julie can’t hold back her tears any longer. They brim over, flowing down her face and soaking into the fabric of her pants.

Beside her, Luke sighs. Heavy.

“I’m so sorry.”

Blinking against the veil of tears, she turns her head. Luke’s eyes are wide and earnest and filled with compassion. Julie almost laughs at the irony of the situation. Here she is, receiving condolences about her dead mother from a guy who’s dead.

It almost draws a laugh from her. Almost. Sniffling wetly, Julie looks away again, focusing on her knees instead. 

“I haven’t sung or played ever since. I can’t. It just … it hurts too much.” She shrugs, helpless. Death didn’t just take her mom. It has also stolen a part of her. A vital part of her soul has been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole behind.

Time heals all wounds, people say. But Julie has her doubts. Because the hole the loss of her mom has torn in her – it’s fraying. It’s consuming her. 

It’s been two months already. It’s been only two months.

How long until the agony will swallow her? 

Julie shakes her head. This will never be over.

“I guess you’ll be rid of me soon. It won’t take HGC long to figure that I can’t write music anymore. Mr. Covington will kick me out, and I won’t be able to pay rent for this place.”

She laughs, but it’s mirthless. She almost expects Luke to do the same. After all, he should be happy. He’d get his haunt back soon.

But Luke doesn’t. Instead, he hums, lost in thought. “Do you want to stay?”

Julie whips her head around. “What?”

Luke’s not looking at her. His head is tilted back; his eyes are trained to the ceiling. His brows are knitted together in concentration.  

“Do you want to stay here and work for HGC?”

Julie just stares at him, confused. She can’t follow.

“Well, you can’t write music. And I totally get why,” Luke adds quickly. He looks at her as if awaiting confirmation. So Julie nods, and Luke continues, “And I can’t write music either.” Right. He couldn’t even touch his own pencil. “So, I thought why don’t we can make a deal? Uh, like a partnership? I come up with songs, and you …” He points at the pencil still in her right hand. “… write them down?”

Julie’s jaw drops. She gapes at him. “You … want to help me?”

Luke’s not meeting her eye anymore. His right knee is bouncing – whether from nerves or excitement, Julie can’t tell. “You’re the first person who can see and hear me since I … died.” He shrugs. “It’s nice – being able to talk to someone again. To you. If you leave, they’ll just rent this place out to somebody else.” Somebody who might not be able to see or hear him. Julie’s heart sinks. If she moved out, he’d be alone again.

Julie hesitates, deliberating his preposition.

It’s not a bad one. She can clearly see the benefits on both sides. It would save her a lot of trouble. And the embarrassment of telling her family the truth.

When Julie told her parents about this job, they both were so proud of her. She saw it in their eyes. They gleamed with parental pride. Her dad still looks at her like this. Losing the job and this apartment would mean she’d have to tell him the truth. And Julie isn’t ready to do that. She isn’t ready to face his disappointment.

Julie exhales slowly. “I guess we both got nothing to lose.”

“Exactly!” Luke says. He’s beaming from ear to ear. “So, Julie, wanna team up with a ghostwriter?”

Julie scoffs. His puns are awful. But it makes her lips twitch nonetheless. “I’d love to,” she replies. She only hesitates for a moment before adding, “Thank you.”

Luke smiles. Soft. Sincere.

And Julie can’t help it. She smiles back. It’s tentative. A bit wobbly, for sure. But it’s a smile. It’s a start.

Chapter Text

August 2002

Julie never had a puppy. Or any pets, really. It’s a bit of a shame because maybe having a puppy would have prepared her for living with a hyperactive ghost.

Because Luke’s constantly in motion. His leg is always bouncing, and his head is always nodding along to a melody that only he can hear. He’s got too much energy to spare. And the more excited he gets, the more intense it becomes. Unsurprisingly, Luke’s easily excited. Sometimes, he bounces around like a superball, jumping on the couch, the counter, or even the coffee table. Julie had wanted to tell him off. But she couldn’t. If anything, his antics amuse her. And it’s not like he can knock over a vase or smash her favorite mug. He can’t cause harm.

Unlike a puppy, Luke doesn’t need food. However, Julie doesn’t miss the yearning in his eyes when she fixes herself a snack or orders takeout.   

He also doesn’t need to go out for walks. Although he’d love to, Julie’s sure. But for reasons unbeknownst to them, he’s tethered to the apartment. They’ve experimented with it for a bit to determine his limitations. Within the confines of the apartment, he can move freely. He can even get out on the fire escape. But he has to be careful. If he gets too close to the iron railing, he’d flicker like an old TV screen. The first time he managed to climb out the window without being dragged back, he got so hyped about his success that he got too bouncy again. His bounciness was also his downfall. He bobbed on his heels until he tripped over his own feet and plummeted through the railing. Julie almost screamed. But Luke’s head poked out of her fridge not even a second after his fall.  

And, like a puppy, he loves snooping around. He also struggles with the concept of boundaries.

“What’s in the box, Julie?”

“None of your business,” Julie says. Her voice is surprisingly light. “The Box” has been a recurring theme throughout the evening. Ever since she unpacked the box and put it on the coffee table, Luke’s been obsessed with it. At this point, Julie’s not sure if she should be irritated or amused.

Luke’s kneeling on the floor, eyes glued to the box. He’s so close – his nose is almost touching the lacquered wood. He’s inspecting the floral pattern that’s looping all over the crest. Julie painted it herself when she was 14.

It’s Friday evening, and Julie has survived her first week on the job. Given that it had only been three days, and she mainly had been busy setting up her computer and remembering how to use the keycard, she doesn’t have much reason to brag about. But she hasn’t been kicked out yet. That’s an accomplishment in her books. So, she decided to give it a shot and at least unpack some of her stuff. Plus, Flynn is coming over tomorrow. If she barged in and found the apartment in its current state, Julie would never hear the end of it.

“Oh, come on, please,” Luke continues. His voice is almost a whine. “It’s not like I can pick it up and open it.”

That makes Julie pause. Right, he couldn’t even hold his own pencil. She frowns at him.

“If you can’t touch objects, how is it you can sit in my fridge? Or jump on the counter?”

Luke shrugs.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” he agrees, and then his attention is back on her box. Placing his hands on the glass top of her coffee table, he leans forward until his nose breaks through the wood.

“Hey, stop that! Keep your nose out of it!” Literally.  

“It’s too dark anyway,” Luke mumbles and retreats. He turns to Julie with pleading eyes. “Please! I’m dying of curiosity!”

Julie arches an eyebrow. “A bit dramatic, huh?”

“Please?”

“Does ‘Curiosity killed the cat’ ring a bell?”

Luke clicks his tongue. “Bit late for that.”

“But you just said–,” Julie trails off when Luke flashes her a lopsided smirk. She huffs. She really, really shouldn’t tell him. It’s none of his business, and he’s overstepping. But she can’t help but feel sorry for him. With the exception of the pencil she secured at work, all of his things are gone.

And, like he said, he can’t even touch it. What harm would it do?

So, she acquiesces.

“It’s my dream box,” she explains as she crouches down beside him, eyes never leaving the box. The sight of it stirs something deep inside her. Something that was supposed to be buried. With a shaky exhale, she reaches out, fingers tenderly caressing a dahlia.  

“Whenever I get a thought or something, I write it down to get it out of my mind.”

Julie hasn’t opened it in a while. Should she? Just a glimpse? It wouldn’t hurt, right? Her fingers begin to itch as they brush the lock.

“Like lyrics?”

Julie feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on her. Her smile slips off her face. As if burned, she jerks her hand away.

“Not anymore.”

Shaking her head, she rises to her feet and snatches the box away from Luke. For a moment, he looks like he’s about to protest. But then his mouth snaps shut.

Good.

Julie turns and heads to the bedroom. She knows that Luke won’t be able to mess with her dream box. But she still prefers to have her secrets out of his reach. And the bedroom is off-limits.

When she reaches the door, Luke’s already there.

“You know … that used to be my room.”

“I’m sorry,” Julie says. But she brushes past him nevertheless. They’ve had this discussion before.

Luke doesn’t follow her inside. Despite his complaints, he never crosses this particular threshold. Maybe he has some manners, after all. Or maybe because it’s too painful. Julie isn’t sure. But she hopes it’s the first option.

At the foot of her bed, she stops, wondering where to place her dream box. She doesn’t want to hide it away in the wardrobe. 

“Yeah, I get it.” Luke slumps against the doorframe. “I’d have no use for it anyway.” He sounds bitter. No, resigned.

His tone makes Julie pause. Frowning, she glances over her shoulder. “You don’t sleep?”

Luke doesn’t meet her eye when he says, “Never thought I’d miss it.”

“I’m sorry,” Julie says again. Because what else is she supposed to say.

Luke’s dead.

That’ll never change.

She focuses back on her task. For a second, she considers putting it on her nightstand. But she can’t bear the idea of waking up every morning and being immediately confronted with her shortcomings. So she perishes the thought. The commode will be fine.

“What do you do all night then?” Julie asks as she puts her dream box on the top.

Luke shrugs. “This and that.” He’s deliberately evasive. Alright, let him keep his secrets, then.

She walks out again. Well, she attempts to, anyway. But Luke’s still hovering by the doorway. Julie steps around him just as Luke attempts to jump out of her way. She passes right through him.

At first, it’s just a shiver traveling down her spine. Julie shudders. It’s not a pleasant experience, for sure.

She casts an annoyed look over her shoulder. “Really?”

Luke flashes her an apologetic smile. He’s got a good smile. The kind of smile that used to get him out of trouble. Or into a lot of it. Probably both.

Julie shakes her head and takes a step towards the living room. Then, a headache pierces her skull. It hits her like a freight train. Julie hisses. The pain is almost blinding. She doubles over and presses the heel of her hand against her right temple, where the pain is pulsing the worst.

“You alright?”

Julie just shakes her head. No, she isn’t. She’s experiencing the worst headache of her entire lifetime. She squeezes her eyes shut. Her head’s throbbing. It feels like her skull has been smashed into a thousand pieces and bone fragments are now digging into her brain like shrapnel … oh.

Realization dawns upon her.

“What’s wrong?” Luke says worriedly.

She hears the concern in Luke’s voice, and he moves to rush to her aid. Gritting her teeth, she raises her left hand, signaling him to stop.

“Stay away,” she pants, her breathing labored.

Luke’s shoes squelch on the floor as he skids to a halt. Julie peels one eye open to see genuine hurt cross his face.

She sucks in a sharp breath. “Please.”

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks again. But he backs off.

Julie doesn’t answer. She concentrates on her breathing. In and out. In and out. It’s working. Slowly, the pain is ebbing away. She repeats the exercise, and eventually the excruciating pain turns into a mild throb. Not ideal, but bearable.

Exhaling, Julie straightens herself.

“I think I just experienced what cracking my skull feels like.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, she regrets them. Luke’s eyes bug. In surprise, at first. But Julie can see the implications sinking in. Ashamed, he bows his head.

“Sorry,” he mutters, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “How bad was it?”

“Pretty bad.”

“Great,” he mumbles. He’s still avoiding eye contact, gaze trained on his shoes. His expression is unreadable. “I don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember what?”

“Dying,” Luke confesses. “I don’t remember dying. I mean, I know that I’m dead. And I know how I died, I think. I fell down the stairs, right? But I don’t …” He trails off and shrugs, helpless.

Oh.

“You hit your head pretty hard.” So hard he’d split it open.

Luke scoffs. “Yeah, that’s one way to say it.” His voice is laced with frustration. He furrows his brows and shuts his eyes – as if trying to jog his memory. “I still wish I could.” He tries harder. His face twists into a grimace. “But everything since that day is kinda hazy.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Everything that happened before the day I died is alright. I remember it clearly. Or normally. But after that, it gets weird, and I … I forget. Sometimes, I don’t know what day it is. Or month.” Luke looks crestfallen, and for a moment, Julie forgets too. She reaches out in an awkward attempt to comfort. But just as she is to lay her hand on his shoulder, she remembers.

She remembers her experience. It had been brief, and she had only gotten flashes of it. But that’s enough. She doesn’t want to imagine being forced to re-experience it over and over again. She’d prefer forgetting. She’s not sure if just touching him does it or if she has to pass through him again, and she’s not inclined to figure that out.

Sighing, Julie drops her arm. “Maybe it’s better you don’t remember what happened.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Luke says. But he doesn’t sound convinced.

Julie wishes there was more for her to say. But there are no words to undo what happened. But maybe she can cheer him up otherwise. Still feeling woozy, Julie puts on a smile. “Hey, how about we put in a movie?”

“What about your friend coming by tomorrow?”

Yeah. Flynn is going to give her so much crap if she comes over, and her place looks like she’s about to move out again.

“Flynn loves to nag,” Julie objects. “Can’t take that opportunity away from her.”

Luke hesitates. But he needs some distraction just as desperately as Julie does. So, a few minutes later, he’s perched on one end of the couch while Julie sifts through her DVD and VHS collection. There are many options. But Julie has a specific movie in mind. She shows Luke the case. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Shrek?” He isn’t convinced. But he doesn’t seem to have the energy to argue.

It has been a while. Shrek was the last movie she’d watched with her entire family at home before her mom got admitted to the hospital. Julie hasn’t watched it ever since. But maybe today is the right day. Luke’s down, and neither of them has the capability to deal with more death – even the fictional kind. She puts the disc into the DVD player and grabs the remotes.

“You should get yourself some snacks,” Luke advises from the couch. He’s sprawled out by now, taking up his side of the couch.

“What about you?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “I’m good, boss.”

That’s new. Where did the boss come from?

Anyway, Julie plops herself down on the sofa. “So am I.”

She smiles. Luke smiles back. And she presses play.

“Really, Jules?”

Flynn props her hands on her hips and then tsks. She actually tsks. However, Julie can tell she isn’t very disappointed. Maybe slightly exasperated. And totally eager to tackle her task of decking out the apartment. She doesn’t hesitate. She veers towards the semi-unpacked moving boxes.

Julie follows her. But she doesn’t miss her chance to glance at Luke.

He’s in the kitchen. Maybe it’s the light. But he looks pale. And a bit more see-through. Maybe he’s still shaken by yesterday’s events. Julie certainly is.

“You good?” she mouths at him while Flynn digs through her belongings.

Luke wrinkles his nose in amusement. “Enjoy yourself.” He winks, then bounces off the counter and retreats into his fridge. Julie can’t stifle a giggle that earns her a bemused look from Flynn.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Julie says hurriedly. “I’m just, uh, amazed by your enthusiasm.”

“Well, we have a lot of work to do,” Flynn says, surveying the boxes again. She wrinkles her nose.  

“I know,” Julie groans. “I need your help.”

Flynn flashes her a big, toothy grin. “Yes, you do.”

It takes them the entire afternoon to unpack the various boxes and store their contents away. Julie’s clothes get moved to her bedroom and commode. Her DVDs, books, and binders get sorted onto the shelves, and the kitchenware in the cupboards. After some searching, Flynn finally discovers the curtains, and after the few more minutes that it takes to wrangle the ladder out of the closet, they hang them up. Julie’s always loved to collect trinkets and knick-knacks. But as they try to locate the right spot for each and every item, Julie lowkey regrets her love for knick-knacks. It takes them a few tries before everything’s in place.

Box after box gets emptied, and, eventually, Julie’s digital piano emerges from the darkest recesses. Julie only hesitates for a moment. Then, she grabs it, maneuvers it down the hall, and stashes it under her bed. A couple of music sheets that she grabbed from her mom’s studio when she moved out find their way into the shelves, hidden between stationary and ringbinders. As she methodically erases her past, she feels Flynn’s eyes on her. She doesn’t miss the expression that crosses her friend’s face – a mixture of disappointment and sadness. But Flynn doesn’t comment on her actions, and Julie’s grateful for her silence.  

Out of sight, out of mind. She just hopes Luke keeps his promise and won’t snoop around. Julie hasn’t known him for long. But she recognizes a music nerd. He wouldn’t approve of hiding an instrument.

Speaking of Luke, he hasn’t shown his face since Flynn arrived. Julie is kinda curious how he’s doing in the fridge. She wants to check in on him. But she doesn’t really have a good excuse to get to him.

It’s past 8 when they’re finally done. They crash on the couch, exhausted but content and satisfied. While Flynn dials the local pizza place to order dinner, Julie takes a moment to appreciate their work. They’ve made progress. It still doesn’t feel quite like home. But it looks more like her. It feels more like her.

Flynn hangs up and tosses the handset of the cordless telephone on the couch between them. Then she looks at Julie, almost studying her. She smacks her lips.  

“So, how was your first week?”

“Uh,” Julie says, “It was only three days, really.” That’s not what Flynn wanted to hear. Her friend crosses her arms and smacks her lips again. The elephant in the room is about to go on a stampede. Julie squirms in her seat. She’s never been a great liar, and there’s really no point in lying to Flynn anyway. Flynn is her best friend. She can read her like an open book.

Julie sighs. “It was alright, I guess. Nothing really happened yet, so ...” She shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She knows she’s being scrutinized. “They, uh, assigned me a partner. A writing partner.”

Flynn’s eyebrows shoot up.

Nervous, Julie clears her throat. She doesn’t meet Flynn’s eye when she says, “His name’s Nick. He’s, uh, he’s nice.”

“Nice, huh?” A smug expression enters Flynn’s face. “Do you like him?”

Julie’s eyes bulge. “What? No, of course not. I, uhm, I mean, he’s nice, I guess.”

“Ha!” Flynn exclaims in triumph. “You do like him!”

“Pssssst!” Julie shushes her quickly, eyes flickering toward her refrigerator. There’s no sign of Luke. Julie isn’t even sure why she doesn’t want Luke to overhear their conversation. It’s not like it matters.

Flynn gives her a confused look. “Why are you shushing me?” she asks before lowering her voice to a whisper. “Do your walls have ears?”

No, not the walls. But the fridge does. Julie’s gaze flits to her refrigerator one more time. She almost expects to see an ear poking out of the door. But again, no Luke at all.

She exhales, relieved. “No, but I just– I don’t want my neighbors to get wrong ideas. You know, with all of us working for HGC.”

“But you do like Nick?”

Julie groans and buries her face in her hands. “I do not not like him. He’s a nice guy and all.” And really cute. “I don’t want to let him down.”

“Have you told him?”

When Julie shakes her head, Flynn sucks in a disappointed breath.

“Jules, you gotta tell him the truth.”

“I know,” Julie groans. She should tell him. He doesn’t deserve to be lied to. It’s not just Julie’s career that’s at stake. His too. If they fail as a team, he’ll have to face the same professional consequences. Unless …

Julie chances another glance at the fridge. Luke’s plan is still out in the open. They haven’t started yet, but cooperating with Luke is her best bet on not getting kicked out. However, it means she’s gotta broach it with Flynn. But Flynn would think she’s gone down the deep end if she told her the truth. She has to bend the truth. Just a bit.

Julie sighs. It’s enough to alert Flynn.

“What’s up?”

“Uhm, nothing?”

 Flynn levels her with one long look. “Come on, Jules, spill it.”

“I, uh, maybe have a solution.” Flynn raises an inquisitive eyebrow, and Julie clears her throat. “I found somebody who offered to help me out.”

“What does that mean?”

“A few days ago, I met a guy. He proposed a collaboration. He’s providing lyrics that I can hand in. And I said yes.”

Flynn’s jaw drops. “Wait! Wait! Wait! Hold on for a sec.” She holds out a hand, signaling her to stop. Julie obeys, snapping her mouth shut. “You did what? What do you mean providing?!”

Julie takes a deep breath. “So, there’s this guy I met–”

“Where?” Flynn interjects.

“Uh …” That’s a good question. Where? Julie’s eyes dart around the room, looking for an answer. Flynn knows she doesn’t go out without her. The workplace is also not an option. Same for the truth. Her gaze settles on her computer. “The internet!” she blurts out, making Flynn flinch. “I, uh, we met online. In a chatroom.”

“You met a guy in a chatroom?”

Julie nods.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

That’s not the question Julie had expected. She looks at Flynn, taken aback. But Flynn is deadly serious. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowed dangerously. She isn’t angry. Not quite. But Julie can feel her impatience increasing – along with her growing disappointment.

“When was I supposed to tell you?” Julie asks back. “You just got back from San Francisco. And I didn’t know how to bring it up because I know how weird this sounds. I’m telling you now.”

“You’re right,” Flynn says in a clipped tone, ignoring that last part. “It does sound weird.”

“I know.” Julie groans again. She flops back on the couch, head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. “And I wish I could tell you more. I really do. But being known isn’t really his thing.”

“He wants to be anonymous?” Flynn frowns. “Like a ghostwriter?”

Julie almost laughs out loud. Luke is a ghostwriter – in the most literal sense. Julie doesn’t say that, though.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Flynn hums, folding her arms. “What’s the catch?”

Julie’s head swivels around. “Uhm, what?”

“There has to be a catch. Does he want credits eventually? Does he want you to give him a cut of your paycheck? Julie, you don’t know anything about this guy! A chatroom!? He could be anyone!”

“There’s no catch.” At least as far as Julie can tell. “He used to write songs for his band. But he can’t do that anymore. It’s his only way to be heard. And my only chance to survive the job. He… he doesn’t want money.” He doesn’t need money, actually.

Flynn moves her head from side to side, considering the situation. She knows it’s the truth. Julie will be fired if she can’t write music.

“I don’t like this,” she says finally. “It sounds shady. Can you at least tell me his name?”

Julie hesitates. She’s tempted. Maybe she could. What harm could come from it? But then she remembers that Luke used to work for HGC and everyone at the office probably knows the story. Even Nick had heard about him, and he was a new-hire like her. It’s only a matter of time before Flynn connects the dots. She can’t risk that. Urgh, this is so messed up.

Heavy with guilt, Julie shakes her head.

Flynn huffs, clearly unhappy.

“I don’t like this,” she says again. Then she sighs. It sounds resigned. It makes Julie perk up, her heart accelerating in her chest. “But you might be right. It probably is your best shot right now.” She locks eyes with Julie, and her features soften. “You make your own decisions. And you’re my best friend, Jules. And as a friend, it is my duty to be supportive about it even though I have doubts. And I’m not gonna lie; I really want you to stay at HGC. Because I really want us to work together. So, if a sketchy deal with some phantom musician is what it takes to keep you in the job, I’m on board.”

Relief floods Julie, and she cannot help the smile that spreads across her face. Flynn’s the best.  

“Thank–”

“But,” Flynn cuts her off. She looks sternly at Julie, and Julie’s smile falters. “You gotta promise me something.”

Julie mirrors her set expression. “Anything.”

“If this turns out to be a big ruse to get you into trouble or this guy is a total creep, you’ll tell me.”

Julie blinks at her, surprised. Then she relaxes and nods. “I will. I promise.”

“Good,” Flynn says, and her grin turns sinister. Julie isn’t sure at whom the threat is directed. But Julie better not intend to break her promise.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. Their pizza has arrived. That’s her chance to check on the ghost in her fridge.

“Can you handle it?” Julie asks, jumping abruptly to her feet. She’s already in the kitchen when she calls over her shoulder, “I’m gonna fetch us some sodas.”

Flynn doesn’t question it. She peels herself off the couch and pads over to the door to buzz the delivery guy in. Julie makes sure she’s busy patting her pockets for money before she yanks the fridge door open. She expects Luke to greet her with that somewhat infuriating (yet very cute) smirk of his. And maybe a cheeky remark about her and Flynn’s conversation.

But there’s no remark. And no grin. And also, no Luke. The fridge is empty. Okay, her groceries are still in there, but Luke’s gone.

“Luke?” she asks in a whisper, sticking her head further into the fridge. She even checks the veggie compartment.

Then she hears Flynn bidding goodbye to the delivery guy, and Julie hurriedly grabs two cans of soda and slams the door shut.

While they’re having pizza and Flynn chatters on about her work trip to San Francisco, Julie can’t stop glancing at the refrigerator. There’s still no Luke. He doesn’t make an appearance all evening. Not when they devour the pizza. Not even when they crash on the couch to watch movies. It’s weird. It’s unsettling. Luke can’t leave the apartment. So where is he?

Unsurprisingly, Flynn stays overnight. Julie’s happy to have her around. But she can’t enjoy her company as much as she wants to. She’s too preoccupied with Luke’s absence. She can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, and she isn’t sure if she should be mad or worried.

At first, Julie thought he’d used Julie’s temporary distraction to sneak into her bedroom. But when she risked a look into it while on her way to the bathroom, Luke wasn’t in there. He wasn’t in the bathroom either. And just before they headed to bed, Julie checked the fridge again. No Luke. Again.

That night, she doesn’t get much sleep. She spends the night tossing and turning, wondering about the whereabouts of her resident ghost – much to Flynn’s dismay, who grumbles in her sleep. Flynn’s also hogging the comforter. So, Julie settles back into her cushions and eventually dozes off.

The next morning, when Flynn’s occupying her bathroom, Julie immediately rushes to the kitchen to check the fridge.

“Morning,” Luke says, giving her a wide grin. He’s seemingly fine, and Julie is so relieved she almost throws herself at him. But she isn’t keen on getting more memory flashes.

“Where were you?” Julie cannot help the accusing tone in her voice.

Luke blinks, confused. “What do you mean? I was in here all night.”

“No, you weren’t. I wanted to check on you last night. But you were gone.”

“You came to check on me?”

“Uhm …” Julie averts her eyes, wringing her hands. Why is she suddenly nervous? Are her cheeks heating up? Is she blushing? Why? “I just, uh, wanted to make sure you haven’t died of boredom or anything.”

That earns her a chuckle and an acknowledging nod. “You’re finally getting it.”

Julie scoffs but can’t bite back her smile. It’s alright. Luke’s alright. She still doesn’t understand where he’d been. But she can worry about that later. Because at the very same moment, she hears the toilet flush. 

“We’ll talk later, alright?”

“No worries, boss,” he says with a crooked grin. “See you later …” The smile slips off his face. “Maybe.”

Yeah, maybe. She has no idea what happened yesterday. But she hopes it won’t happen again.

Julie shuts the fridge, not without grabbing some juice and eggs, just as Flynn exits the bathroom. She stops when she sees Julie hastily unloading the ingredients on the countertop. A frown appears on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Julie says too quickly. “I’m just–” A loud rumble interrupts her. Flustered, she looks down at her stomach.

Flynn laughs.

Flynn leaves after breakfast. But not without pulling Julie into a tight hug. That’s not unusual. Flynn’s a hugger. But it still catches her off-guard. After a moment, she relaxes into the embrace, wrapping her arms around Flynn’s frame, clutching onto her.

“I’m so proud of you,” Flynn whispers into her ear.

“For what?”

“For not giving up.”

The moment the door falls shut, Luke emerges from the refrigerator, stretching himself like a lazy cat before hopping on the counter. His eyes roam the post-breakfast chaos in her kitchen.

“Man, I wish I could eat.” He spots the empty pizza box, and his expression turns wistful. “I miss pizza.” He closes his eyes momentarily, mourning the loss of fast food. When he pries them open again, his face clears up. “But pizza is a good sign. Fun night?”

“Yeah.” Except for him being missing. “We talked, and we watched a movie–”

“Shrek?” Luke asks teasingly, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Julie huffs. But a smile tugs at her lips nonetheless. “No, not Shrek.” She wants to shove him playfully – especially when he winks at her. But she doesn’t. Instead, her smile falls. Suddenly, she’s feeling nervous. She grabs the hem of her shirt and twists it. “And we, uh, finished unpacking my stuff.”

Julie isn’t sure why she’s so on edge about telling him. It’s just kinda weird. She can’t shake the feeling she’s intruding. She knows she isn’t. It’s her place, after all. She took out the lease on the apartment. She’s the one paying rent and actually living here. It’s her home. But it’s Luke’s, too, in a way. He has been for a few years. She doesn’t want him to feel out of place.

Luke spins around to take in the living space. He whistles through his teeth.

The room has changed beyond recognition. They haven’t just put on curtains. Paintings and framed photographs are hanging on the formerly bare walls. The shelves are now filled with books and stationery, and fairy lights are wrapped around them. The couch has accumulated more pastel throw pillows, and a plush blanket is draped over the backrest. There are candles on almost every side table and an earthenware bowl with potpourri on the coffee table. And there are plants. Many plants. They’ve spread everywhere. On the shelves, on stools placed methodically next to the windows. Some even dangle from the ceiling in macrame plant holders she and Flynn crafted when they were kids.

It feels warm. Cozy. Homey. 

“Yeah …” Julie chuckles awkwardly. “Flynn doesn’t do things by halves.”

“No kidding.”

“After the seventh soda, she kinda lost control.” If Julie hadn’t stopped her, she’d have driven over to Home Depot to get some paint for the walls.

Julie smiles. But it’s temporary. She’s still fidgeting with the fabric of her shirt, awaiting his judgment. She likes the way it looks now. It feels more like her. It feels more like home now. “Is this okay with you?”

A big grin stretches Luke’s face, and Julie lets out a relieved sigh. “Of course it is. I really like it.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Looks way better than when I lived here.”

Then he spots her CD rack. Curious, he bounds over to inspect her collection.

Julie hasn’t stopped twisting her shirt. There’s another confession she has to make. “I also told Flynn about our arrangement.”

“Why?” Luke doesn’t seem angry. Just curious. Or maybe he’s too distracted by her music selection. Sometimes, he frowns. He nods his approval when an album meets his expectations. Otherwise, he frowns. He’s more judgmental about her music taste than the remodeling of his apartment.

“Flynn’s my best friend. She knows I’ve been struggling with music.”

Luke smirks at her. “So you told her you’re hanging out with a ghost?”

“Gosh, no!” Julie exclaims, throwing up her hands, finally letting go of her shirt. “I told her I hired a ghostwriter on the internet.”

“The internet?”

Something in Luke’s voice startles Julie. “Not a fan of the internet?”

“Not a fan of computers,” Luke says absently. He’s still absorbed by her CDs. But not in the same enthusiastic manner as before. His lips are tightly pressed together, and an unfathomable emotion flickers in his eyes. Something is bothering him. Sighing, he abandons the CD rack and throws himself on the couch.

“Why?”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. Julie doesn’t buy it. She moves over and settles down beside him, never breaking eye contact.

Eventually, Luke sighs again. “I told you about Covington having the rights to my songs, right?”

Julie nods.

“And, okay, I get that he owns the songs I wrote for HGC. I signed all those stupid contracts that I totally should have read before signing. But, he got his hands on the songs I wrote for the band.”

“Wait, what?!”

Luke nods, and his expression darkens. “I didn’t really notice it at first. Covington is a fucking bastard, but he’s clever. Have to give him that. He only sold bits and pieces. A riff here. A verse there. And he only gave them to clients I wasn’t working for.”

Julie frowns. “Then how did you find out?”

Luke smiles sheepishly. “You know how it is. As a musician, you’ve got to keep yourself informed. Scout out new talents. See what they have to contribute to the industry.”

“You snooped around again,” Julie states flatly. He does have a tendency to stick his nose into other people’s business.

“Maybe,” Luke admits. “And maybe I borrowed somebody else’s keys and keycard to gain access to the archive.”

Of course, he did. Julie can’t even say she’s surprised by this revelation.

“But that’s beside the point,” Luke says quickly. “So, one night, I snuck in and scoured the archive for new music. I spent the whole night listening to demos, and man, there were some really good songs on them.” Luke sighs dreamily at the memory, and a blissful expression enters his face. He really loves music, huh? But it doesn’t last very long.

“But after a while, I started to notice similarities. Parallels to my own songs, you know? Melodies. Lines. Verses. They seemed familiar. So, I listened to the songs again and again, comparing them to my songs. But I didn’t have my songbook with me. So, I wasn’t sure. I left just before dawn and came straight back here, checked my journal, and then emergency called the guys.”

“And?” Julie asks curiously. “What did they say? Did they agree with you?” Julie doesn’t know much about his friends. But she gets the impression that they’re loyal. One of them even named his hamster after his dead friend.

Luke purses his lips. “No.”

“No?”

To Julie’s surprise, a sheepish smile appears on Luke’s face, and he rubs his neck bashfully. “Yeah, maybe calling them up before 6 wasn’t the smartest move.”

Julie throws him an exasperated look. “Really?”

Luke clicks his tongue. “Yeah … man, they were so pissed. They didn’t even let me explain why I called them. But they did come over. Though, Alex looked like he only came to murder me.”

“I don’t blame him,” Julie mutters. She’d plead extenuating circumstances.

“But I did make up for it,” Luke says quickly, arms flailing wildly as he speaks. “I brought him this fancy iced coffee from Starbucks. You know, the one that’s more milkshake and cream than coffee? It’s ridiculously expensive! Four bucks for a large coffee!” He shakes his head at the absurd prices. “But it did appease him. And then, I talked to them about what I found at the studio.”

He pauses to blow out a long breath. His shoulders drop. His fingers dig into the faux leather of the couch.

“They … they weren’t convinced. They knew I wasn’t happy with the job. I never wanted to be stuck in a day job. So, they thought that my dislike for it and Covington was making me see things. I don’t blame them. I mean, I wasn’t fully convinced either. It could have been a coincidence!”

And yet, his voice is laced with a certain bitterness. He was right. They weren’t.

“They weren’t convinced. But they promised to keep their eyes peeled. And they did. We spent a few weeks searching for clues. But we couldn’t find anything else, and after a while, I started to believe that they were right. Maybe I was doing Covington injustice. But then that bastard got his greedy hands on one of my songs – a song I wrote for the band – and sold it to a client!”

Julie gasps and claps a hand over her mouth. “No, he did not!”

“Oh, he did,” Luke confirms darkly. “Took me ages to polish up the bridge after the second chorus. And then that bastard sold Long Weekend to—”

“Wait!” Julie jerks up, eyes wide. That title certainly rings a bell. “Hold up! Long Weekend?! That’s a Trevor Wilson song!”

To be specific, Long Weekend is the Trevor Wilson song. It’s his one big hit. For most of his career, Trevor Wilson had been a wannabe rockstar. From what Julie heard, his early music hadn’t been terribly bad. But in a city like LA that attracts all sorts of aspiring artists, his generic style didn’t stand a chance. He had been unspectacular. Family money and occasional gigs had kept him afloat.

Then, about six months ago, he’d released Long Weekend, and it had been a game-changer. Ever since, his popularity and sales have skyrocketed. Now, he’s everywhere. His face has been plastered across the entire city ever since – billboards and cover pages and advertisements. All the pop and rock radio stations in LA played the song on rotation, and for a couple of weeks, MTV showed its music video daily.

It’s a good song. Even Julie couldn’t resist buying the single. It’s now part of her– Oh. So that’s why he lost interest in her collection.

Luke scoffs. “Yeah, now,” he says begrudgingly, grinding his teeth. “But I wrote it. That jerk stole it.”

Julie frowns. “But how did he get it?” She doubts Luke gave them to Mr. Covington on his own accord.

At her question, Luke clenches his jaw. “It’s my fault.” He inclines his head to her computer that’s set up on a desk. “The guys have been complaining about my handwriting for ages. So, I thought about doing them a favor by typing up the songs and printing them.”

Oh no. “And you did it at work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Did you confront Mr. Covington?” Julie asks, although she can guess the answer. Luke doesn’t strike her as the type who’d accept being screwed over like this. He’d put on a fight. Given his stormy expression, he did put on a fight.  

“Of course I did,” he says, gesticulating widely. Rage burns in his eyes, and the round paper lamp above his head begins to flicker. Julie’s eyes flit to it. That’s kinda creepy. But fitting. She focuses back on Luke. “I stormed into his office and yelled at him. But that bastard didn’t bat an eye. He just leaned back and smirked at me. Have you ever seen his smirk?” He looks at Julie, who shakes her head.

“It’s creepy. He’d make an epic villain. Whatever. He wasn’t fazed. I was ready to smash his office into pieces, and he just sat there and smiled. It pissed me off. Still does.” Luke’s hands curl into fists. “And then he asked me if I had any proof that it wasn’t company property, that I didn’t write it for work. I wrote it on company time and sent it via the company network. I’m not sure what I’d have done if Bobby hadn’t dragged me out.” He clenches his fists tightly. They’re shaking with suppressed anger. It gives Julie a very good idea of what he would have done if Bobby hadn’t held him back.

“Who’s Bobby?”

Her question does the trick. Luke visibly relaxes. He unfurls his hands, flexing his fingers. A soft, sentimental smile tugs at his lips. Almost in sync, the light stops flickering. “Bobby and I have been friends since kindergarten. For my eighth birthday, my parents got me a guitar. Bobby already had one because he had three older brothers. And his parents paid for guitar lessons. After each lesson, he showed me what he learned, and I tried to copy him.”

Julie gets it. She understands their bond. Julie and Flynn’s friendship is similar. It dates back to their Pre-K time.

“In high school, we met Alex and Reggie. That’s when we started the band. We played a couple of gigs in the area. Even landed some gigs up in Bakersfield and Fresno. The road trip was hella fun. Our first tour. But we didn’t have a manager yet. So organizing it was a fucking nightmare. We had a band meeting after and decided to get a manager first before doing more touring. But then we called in some favors and booked a showcase at the Orpheum!”

Julie gasps. “No way!”

Luke gives her a wicked grin. “July ’95. It was a hassle. But so worth it. Best gig we ever played. Just thinking about it makes my heart pump faster.” He pauses, deliberating his last words. He clicks his tongue. “Well, maybe not anymore.”

Julie can’t stifle a giggle, and Luke winks at her.

“After the set, Caleb approached us. He offered us a deal. It sounded good. We’d work for HGC. You know, running errands, writing songs, and helping out in the studio when they needed more session musicians. In return, he took us under his wing. And he kept his end of the bargain. We needed a place to stay, so he got us these apartments. And with the jobs, we had enough money to support ourselves. And he pulled strings to get us gigs. Good gigs. Good venues. We were 17. We thought we made it.”

Julie’s burning with curiosity as to why a 17-year-old needed his own apartment. But she doesn’t want to pry.

“We were wrong.” Closing his eyes, he leans back and takes a deep breath. “I was wrong. He used us. After the incident, I wanted to quit. But Covington made it clear that if I left, the guys would also have to go.”

“Shit! Luke that’s–” It’s not blackmail, but Julie knows it’s wrong.

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “Reggie didn’t care. But Alex and Bobby were hesitant. They’re the ones with the brains. They reminded us that we have liabilities now. Bills to pay. The band was doing well. But the shows weren’t yielding enough money to make a living. And we didn’t want to get blacklisted from the industry.” He sighs. “So we stayed. But I made sure that Covington didn’t get another chance to steal my music. I went back to writing it all by hand and kept everything in my songbook and only showed them to the guys.”

And that’s it. There isn’t anything else to say.

“Do you like it? Long Weekend, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Julie answers. “It’s a great song.” But now she cannot help but wonder what it would have sounded like if Luke and his band had recorded it.

“I never heard it,” Luke admits after a pause. “I wasn’t involved in the production, and I died before it got released.”

Oh.

“Do you want to?”

Luke hesitates. A multitude of conflicting emotions ripples across his face. He’s curious, for sure. But still angry. What if he hates the result? What if he likes it?

Eventually, he shakes his head. Julie can’t blame him.

With a start, she sits up, startling Luke.

“I got something we could listen to.” Julie leaps to her feet, bustling around in the search for her bag.

Her sudden activity piques Luke’s interest. He watches her curiously as she hunts down her bag. She eventually spies it in the far corner of the room. On Friday, after a long day of work, she’d tossed it there.

She grabs it, opens the flap, and rummages through it until her fingers brush against a CD case. Triumphantly, she extracts it. Luke catches on quickly.

“You got your first assignment.”

Julie simply nods and shows him the CD. As he gets a look at the cover, a big grin begins to stretch Luke’s face.

“Dirty Candy?” he asks, trying and failing to stop his grin from spreading wider. “What is this? Spice Girls for grade schoolers?”

“Hey!” Julie exclaims. “I like the Spice Girls!”

Luke chuckles, “Figured.” He shakes his head in amusement. “Alex does, too.”

They both inspect the cover, which shows five young women – maybe about Julie’s age. It’s hard to tell. Their backs were facing the camera when the photo was taken. Their costumes are colorful. And so are their wigs. Julie smiles. The colors remind her of bubble gum. Maybe the group’s name is perfectly accurate.

Julie cracks the case open and studies the track list that’s on the coverlet. It’s just a handful of songs. The CD is a demo, and Julie has been tasked to listen to it to get a feeling for the group.

“You’re sure you still want to work for Covington?” Luke asks suddenly, making Julie look up from the cover. “After all I just told you?”

Yeah, the revelations have certainly not fueled her excitement. But Julie has made her decision.

So she nods. “I’m sure,” she says. “What about you?”

“My offer still stands,” Luke confirms. He flashes her a cheerful grin. “Congratulations. You sold your soul to the devil.”

“That produces bubble-gum pop.” She waves the CD at him, and they both burst into laughter.

Flynn’s right. Julie hasn’t been herself since her mother’s death. But she hasn’t given up either. She wants to succeed. She wants to prove herself. She can’t do it in the way she used to. Not yet. Maybe never. Time will tell. But in order to find out where her limitations lie, she needs to come out of her shell first. Not all at once. Not in a rush. Just teeny-tiny baby steps. She’ll see how far those will get her.

On Monday, when Julie arrives at HGC, someone is already waiting by her desk. But it isn’t Nick. Julie slows down, carefully eyeing the stranger as she crosses the open-plan office. He kinda reminds her of Reggie – their clothing styles are similar. His clothes are black – like his hair. It’s straight and shields his face from Julie’s view. But by the looks of it, he’s surveying her desk and the items on it – as if he’s searching for something. Julie pauses and frowns. That’s … odd. But as far as she can tell, he hasn’t touched anything. Yet.

Gripping the strap of her bag, she clears her throat. The guy whirls around.

“Hi,” Julie says, giving him an awkward wave and a smile. The guy is about her age, and suddenly, Julie has a guess who he is.

“Hi,” he says back, plastering on a smile that looks as awkward as hers feels. “Are you Julie?”

She nods. She knows who he is. But she waits for him to introduce himself.

“I’m Bobby. I’m friends with Alex and Reggie.”

“Oh.” Julie tries to sound surprised.

Bobby gestures at the desk next to hers. “That’s my desk.”

“Oh!” This time, Julie is surprised. She didn’t know that. The desk had been vacant last week, but now there’s a backpack resting against a table leg, and the top of the desk is littered with balls of crumbled paper.

Julie chuckles. “So we’re neighbors.”

“In more than just one way,” Bobby replies. When Julie raises her brows at him in confusion, he explains, “I live in the apartment above yours.”

That makes sense. Luke mentioned that they had all needed a place to stay.

Bobby seems somewhat nervous. Julie understands why. It’s really weird. But there’s no reason to beat around the bush. She sucks in a breath.  “I’m sorry about what happened to your friend.”

Bobby nods stiffly. He doesn’t seem surprised by her condolence. But there’s still something off with him. He seems uneasy. He’s fidgety. His hands curl into fists. Then unfurl again. He flexes his fingers before balling his hands again.

“About that …,” he says. He hesitates. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he’s trying to make up his mind about something. After a few seconds, he pinches his mouth and sets his jaw. His hands are again balled into fists. “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

Huh.

“But it needs more explaining. Do you want to meet up with me and the guys for lunch? At the diner?”

“With the guys, do you mean Alex and Reggie?”

He nods stiffly.

Well, Julie doesn’t really have anyone to hang out with during lunch. As it turned out, Nick isn’t a fan of the meatball sub. Or the diner in general. Going there together had been quickly written off. Julie would have gone with Flynn, but she had already agreed to join the others from the marketing department for lunch. So … “Sure.”

For the first time, Bobby allows himself a genuine smile. “Great.” He seems genuinely relieved. “I have a few meetings scheduled. So I’ve gotta go. But see you there? Meet downstairs at 12:30?”

“Yeah, of course.”        

“Cool.”

With that, he turns and leaves, weaving through the maze of desks with practiced ease before disappearing out of the room.

That was … Julie isn’t sure if weird is the right term. But it wasn’t normal for sure. The way he had inspected her desk still bothers her. Frowning, she looks at it. But there’s nothing interesting to see there. Julie has only been here for a few days. She hasn’t had a chance yet to bring personal items – aside from a framed family photo that’s placed next to the computer. Bobby’s desk, on the other hand … the mess there is a lot. There are multiple journals scattered around. By the looks of it, pages have been ripped out of them. The loose sheets have been crumbled up into balls and thrown around in frustration. The letter tray is brimming with documents, and …

Julie gasps. A picture on top of a stack of papers has caught her interest. It’s a photo. Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby are grinning into the camera, arms draped around each other’s shoulders. They’re lined up in front of a black banner that reads the name of a band. Sunset Curve. Their band.

Gently, Julie picks it up. She hadn’t paid attention to it before. The guys look happy. Luke looks happy. Confident. Alive. The last thought stirs something in her. Suddenly, she’s got an idea.

Julie casts a quick glance over her shoulder. It’s Monday and still early. Most people haven’t clocked in yet. Others, like Bobby, have already rushed away to meetings. Nobody would notice.  

As discreetly as possible, she walks over to the copy machine. She doesn’t dare use the document feeder, so she opens the lid, places the photo on the platen glass, shuts it, and presses Start. The machine noisily jumps to life. Julie winces. Is it supposed to be so loud? Nervous, she looks around. But nobody is paying any attention to her.

The result is meager. It’s plain office paper, so the colors are off, and the paper is curled. But it’ll do. Julie folds the copy, snatches the original, and returns to the desks. She puts the photo back on the paper stack and slips the folded copy into her bag.

“Luke’s doing great,” Reggie announces in lieu of a greeting.

He and Alex have secured a booth by the window. They must have arrived a few minutes before the lunch rush set in. Bobby hasn’t arrived yet.

Julie stares at him.

“He’s talking about his hamster,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. He leans over the table to slap Reggie on the head.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“Dumbassery,” Alex says flatly. He looks at his hand and grimaces. “I’m gonna go wash my hands.” He excuses himself and heads to the restroom.  

Julie slides on the bench next to Reggie.

“So your hamster is fine?”

“Oh yeah, he’s having a great time,” Reggie says proudly. “Do you wanna see a photo of him?” He digs through his pockets and produces a digicam from one of them.

Julie laughs. “Do you always carry a camera around?”

“Sometimes.” Reggie shrugs, fiddling with his camera. “I grew up near the beach. I used to go there a lot with my little brother when things got …” He trails off. For a moment, he’s lost in his own thoughts, his eyes growing glassy and distant. After a few seconds, he comes back. He shakes his head to clear his mind. “The sunsets always calmed me down, and I kinda wanted to save the moment. That’s why I started to bring my dad’s camera. Now, it’s a habit. I take pictures of the beach, or the city, or really cute puppies.” His face lights up. He’s beaming at her. “And then I show them to Luke. So that he knows what’s going on outside.”

That’s adorable.

“My dad is a professional photographer,” Julie says. “He does the same.”

“Really? That’s neat.”

Still grinning, he turns the camera on, opens the storage, and clicks through it. “Here.” He hands Julie the camera.

The display is tiny, and the photo is a bit blurry. But it’s clearly a hamster. His fur is a dark cream, but there’s a patch of chocolate brown fur on the top of his head. Julie snorts with laughter. He kinda looks like Ghost-Luke.

“Can I?”

“Sure!”

Julie clicks through the images. There are more photos of Hamster-Luke. Hamster-Luke exercising in a hamster wheel. Hamster-Luke nibbling on some sunflower seeds. Hamster-Luke blinking at the camera, his cheek pouches stuffed to the brim. It’s precious.

“I should get a hamster, too,” Julie laments absently. Luke – the ghost version – would absolutely love that. She keeps clicking through the images until one causes her to stop. It’s not a photo of the hamster but of Reggie. Though he’s carrying one of those portable hamster cages. So Julie guesses the hamster’s in it, too. But it’s neither Reggie nor the hamster that has caught her interest. It’s the building in the background. It seems familiar. Julie squints at it. The display size makes it hard to spot the details. But the building has an art-deco façade, and there’s a brass plaque attached to a wall next to a broad staircase …  

Julie sucks in a sharp breath. Her heart misses a beat, and her blood runs cold. She recognizes the building. With trembling hands, she returns the camera. She has seen enough.

“He’s adorable,” she says, forcing a smile. Thankfully, Reggie doesn’t notice how shaken up she is. He just gives her another blinding smile.

“Oh no, not the damn hamster again.” Alex is back. And he brought Bobby. They sit down, Bobby by the window and Alex across from her. He looks at her thoughtfully.

“You alright?” Alex asks, sizing her up. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She has … kinda.

“I’m good,” Julie says quickly. “Just really hungry. Low blood sugar, you know.”

Alex nods. But he doesn’t seem convinced. Alex is the wary one of the lot. He’s always on the lookout. Always vigilant. Julie’s got a guess as to why.

Thankfully, before he can fire more questions, a waitress comes over to take their orders. Julie’s choice of the meatball sub earns an approving nod from Reggie, a blank stare from Bobby, and an “oh for fuck’s sake” from Alex. What is she supposed to do? Luke’s been right. The meatball sub really is “gnarly”. (She’ll never tell him, though. He’d be insufferable.)

“So, you guys wanted to ask me something?” Julie looks at the guys expectantly. She’s been curious all morning. Plus, it’s a great way to distract Alex from her sub.

All of them exchange nervous looks. Eventually, Bobby nods and clears his throat.

“This is gonna sound weird. But when you moved in, did you happen to find a notebook?”

Julie frowns. The apartment had been cleared out. “A notebook?”

“Yeah, like a songwriting journal? It’s black, and with the worst handwriting you’ve ever seen.”

A songwriting journal? That indeed rings a faint bell. Luke mentioned a songbook the other day. Are they talking about that? Is it missing? Julie hadn’t spared it much thought. It had seemed like an off-hand comment. She’d assumed it was with all his other stuff.

She realizes that all three are staring at her, expecting an answer. Julie shakes her head. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Disappointed, all three slump in their seats.

“It was a long shot,” Alex sighs. “I mean, we couldn’t find it when we packed Luke’s stuff, so …” Alex shrugs. He looks at Julie. “Right. You don’t have context.” He smiles apologetically. “Okay. The apartment you live in – it used to be Luke’s.”

“Our friend Luke,” Reggie clarifies. “Not my hamster.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she figured,” Alex snaps, leveling Reggie with a cold stare. He sighs and continues. “The three of us and Luke, we used to be in a band—”

“Sunset Curve,” Reggie interrupts again. He winks at her. “Tell your friends.”

At this point, Alex is shaking with suppressed rage. He looks like it takes all his willpower not to leap across the table to strangle Reggie. Maybe he would have done it if Bobby hadn’t jerked him back.

“Luke was the lead guitarist. And lead singer,” Bobby continues. “And he wrote most of our songs. We used to share ideas and write them down together, but after …”

Alex huffs. “One of the songs Luke wrote for the band got leaked to Covington, and of course, he immediately cashed it in.” Alex shakes his head. “After that, Luke got paranoid. He got more secretive. More possessive, I guess. He never let his journal out of his sight again. And he started hiding it. Even we had no idea where.” There’s bitterness to the last statement, and Alex’s mouth is pinched. Reggie and Bobby don’t look happy either.   

Up until now, the guys’ story had matched up with Luke’s. But Luke’s mistrust in his friends is news to her. Julie wants to dig deeper but is unsure of how to broach the subject. And before she can devise a good strategy, their food and drinks arrive.

Reggie and Bobby dig in right away. But Alex hesitates. He stares at his burger like he regrets ordering it. His hands are shaking.

Both Bobby and Reggie pause, Reggie still with his hotdog in his mouth, ready to take another bite.

“Man, just use your cutlery,” Bobby says, his cheeks turning pink as his stomach grumbles.

Alex shoots him a glare but doesn’t argue. He takes his cutlery and begins to eat.

Julie has no idea what’s happening but concludes it’s wiser to remain silent and observe. But nothing of significance happens. They eat in silence … until Reggie struggles with the ketchup bottle. In the end, he hits the bottle with his hand, and a wave of ketchup spills over his food. It looks like a bloodbath.

At once, Alex drops his fork and knife. They clatter on his plate.

Julie frowns at him, concerned. “You alright?”

Alex doesn’t answer. Staring at Reggie’s plate, all color drains from his face. Then, without a word, he suddenly stands and hurries to the restroom again.

Bobby gives Reggie an annoyed look. “Really?”

Reggie slumps and lowers his head, looking genuinely guilty. He stares at his hotdog covered in ketchup. His upper lip curls in disgust. Eventually, he pushes his plate away.

Julie’s eyes flit between them. They seem to have forgotten her presence. After a few seconds, Julie clears her throat. They both look up.

“Guys? What’s going on?”

Reggie and Bobby squirm in their seats. They don’t meet Julie’s eye when Reggie says, “Alex found Luke after he fell down the stairs.”

“Oh.” That’s … Julie frowns in confusion. It kinda is an explanation. But she still feels like she’s missing some puzzle pieces. 

Reggie and Bobby exchange nervous glances. Neither of them seems eager to continue. It’s Bobby who screws up his courage.

“When Reggie and I got there, he was kneeling next to Luke. I think he was trying to help Luke or something because his hands were covered in blood. It was like a scene from a horror movie.” Bobby shudders at the memory and closes his eyes.

Oh. Now it makes more sense. Julie has watched gruesome police procedurals and crime dramas to imagine the scene. She looks down at the red mess on Reggie’s plate. Her stomach churns at the sight. No wonder Alex freaked out.

“What happened to Luke affected all of us,” Reggie sniffles. “But Alex’s got it the worst.”

Understandable. They’re all dealing with the aftermath in their own way. No wonder Reggie clings to his hamster that looks like his dead friend. To keep him alive.

Julie glances at Bobby. His head is bowed, and he’s poking at his food that has now begun to go cold. Julie wonders how he’s grieving. But she doesn’t know him well enough to ask.

Instead, she focuses on her food. It looks supremely unappetizing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I wish I could help you.”

“Not your fault,” Reggie says. He shrugs, helpless. “His music means so much to Luke. And to us too. We thought finding the journal would help.”

Yeah, Julie understands. Even though she’s only known Luke for a week, she knows how important music is to him. The fact that something that had played such a crucial part in their friend’s life had gone missing must have rattled them. Especially after what happened to Luke’s song. They seek closure. For them. And for Luke.

Julie blinks slowly as a thought crosses her mind. She mulls it over and over again.

Closure for Luke, huh?

Yeah, maybe the guys are actually onto something – in more than one way. 

Chapter Text

August 2002

“And?” Julie asks. “Anything?”

She’s kneeling in her kitchen, shining a flashlight into the narrow gap between the counter and the wall. She tries to peer into it. But it’s too dark and narrow to see anything beyond dust bunnies. But Luke’s closer. His head pokes out of the back of the counter. The light of the flashlight goes right through it.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “No wonder that stupid hamster loves to come over. How did all these Cheese Puffs get behind my counter?!”

Great, Julie thinks. She must clean the mess up before other rodents discover this little snack paradise.

“Hey, that’s my guitar pick! Rad! I thought I swallowed it.”

“Luke, focus!”

“You’re right. Sorry, boss.” Luke flashes her a sheepish smile, then twists his head to look around. He sighs. “Nope. No journal.”

Julie groans. Fantastic. That’s it. They’ve exhausted all the possibilities. Checking behind the kitchen cabinets was their last straw. Now, they’ve run out of ideas.

Switching off the flashlight, Julie flops into a sitting position, back leaning against the cabinet.

After lunch with the boys, Julie reiterated the conversation with Luke. Luke was visibly surprised that his journal is missing. Like Julie, he had assumed it was with his other belongings.

That was two weeks ago, and they’ve been searching for it ever since. They’ve compiled a list of possible hiding places. It’s a very limited list. They searched every nook and cranny of the apartment. They ransacked all cabinets and cupboards, almost disassembled the whole couch, and checked the space behind the counter. But nothing. The journal remains absent.

Maybe the guys are wrong. Maybe it’s not here anymore. Maybe they packed it up when they cleaned out the apartment. Maybe they threw it away …

The thought disheartens her, and she slumps.

Luke has extracted himself from the cabinets. He’s now hovering by the refrigerator, his expression unreadable.

Julie frowns. Something about Luke is off. He doesn’t seem to be disappointed. He also hadn’t seemed to be very enthusiastic about finding his journal in the first place. His contributions so far have been half-hearted at best.

“Could it be at HGC?”

Luke shakes his head. “No. I never left it there. Couldn’t risk Covington getting his greedy hands on it.”

Yeah, that makes sense.

“Are there other places where it could be?” Julie asks. “You guys were a band, right? Where did you rehearse?”

Luke doesn’t answer for a while. He’s leaning against the counter, eyes not meeting hers. After a while, he asks, “Do you really believe that my journal is … ” He frowns, trying to recall the term she used when she told him about his missing songbook. “…unfinished business?”

Julie nods, determined. “Remember when you compared me to the kid in The Sixth Sense? In the movie, all ghosts are stuck in the world of the living because there’s something they have to accomplish first. If they complete it, they can cross over.” Julie looks at him expectantly. “So, could it be your journal?”

Luke shoots her a sideways look. “Do you want to kick me out?”

Julie shakes her head. “No, I just don’t want you to be stuck here forever.”

Again, Luke takes his time to formulate an answer. He’s chewing on his lip, grappling with something. Julie wishes she could read his mind. But while his head is see-through, his thoughts are not.

“There’s something in my journal,” Luke says after a moment, “that if I have unfinished business, that’s it.” He heaves a sigh – long, heavy, and sad. There’s regret in it. And guilt. Julie’s heart pangs with sympathy. She feels the urge to comfort him. Not just a sympathetic smile and consoling words, but to get up and comfort him physically. She wants to hug him. She knows she can’t. But she really wants to. She’s almost on her feet when Luke suddenly shakes his head, shaking his sadness off.

“The basement,” he says, and Julie blinks at him. She can’t follow. “That’s where we rehearsed. There’s a storage unit next to the laundry room. We paid the landlord a couple of bucks extra a month to use it for band practice.”

Julie’s brain needs a minute to kick in. Right. Her initial question.

“Were you there the day you died?”

“I guess so. I was there every day.”

“Did you take the journal?”

Luke frowns, trying to jog his memory. To no avail. He shakes his head. “I can’t remember. But I usually did.”

“So?” Julie asks expectantly. “Could it be there?”

Luke hesitates. His eyes flit to the apartment door, unsure. She wonders if he wants to go and check himself. It’s enough to spur Julie. She’s back on her feet, grabbing her keys from a bowl on a side table, and yanks the door open, ready to head downstairs.

“No,” Luke says suddenly, stopping her just as she sets foot into the hall. “The guys would have found it by now.”

Julie groans. She tosses the keys back into the bowl and slams the door shut, but not without shooting him a nasty glare. Her mood has veered from sympathy to growing irritation. She doesn’t understand why she has to drag every piece of information out of him.

Luke flinches. “Sorry, that wasn’t helpful.”

“You’re right,” Julie says crossly, crossing her arms. “It wasn’t.”

For a brief moment, anger flashes across his face. At the same time, the kitchen lamp dangling from the ceiling flickers. Julie shudders. The timing is uncanny.

Maybe Julie should let it go. Maybe she should give them both time to cool off.

But she doesn’t. She presses on regardless.

“I don’t get it,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in exasperation as she flops down on the couch. She’s annoyed. By Luke’s attitude. By the fact that they couldn’t find the journal. By the faulty wiring. “Your music is so important to you. I saw your face when you told me what happened. And your friends mentioned how protective you’d become about your music. And …” Julie trails off. It suddenly hits her.

It’s the way Luke’s shoulders are scrunched up. It’s the way he scruffs his shoes. It’s the way he looks anywhere but at her.

“You don’t trust me.”

The truth is that simple. That harsh. Luke has offered her his help because the music they are working on isn’t his. Not really. He’s volunteered because the songs they’re writing have no meaning to him.

Luke’s head whips around, eyes wide in shock. “What? No!”

Julie scoffs. Without a word, she suddenly leaps to her feet and makes a beeline for her bedroom. On the threshold, she pauses. She isn’t sure why she’s come here. She just needed some distance from Luke. She needs a moment to collect her thoughts. Her gaze lands on a filled laundry basket. That’ll guarantee her plenty of alone time. And she’s been putting it off for far too long, anyway.

Determined, she grabs the laundry basket. Then, she stomps to the bathroom to get the detergent. She returns to the living room, striding past Luke. She doesn’t spare him a second glance. She zeroes in on the coffee table. They’ve been working on a song for a while now, and it’s showing. The glass top is littered with sheets of paper. They’ve drawn up a few drafts so far. They aren’t bad. But nothing sticks out, either. Writing music without playing the melody has proven to be more complicated than they both thought. Luke’s humming can only get them so far, so she always has to wait for Nick to hear if the progression works out. It’s annoying. But they still have time to polish it up.

Aside from the notes, there’s a stack of music magazines on the coffee table. She picks the latest issue of Rolling Stone and throws it on top of her laundry. Then she spins around, ready to grab her keys and a few quarters for the laundromat when Luke suddenly blocks her way.

His eyes are still wide, and his hands raised, palms turned toward her.

“Julie, I swear, it’s not that. I do trust you!” He’s looking at her directly, with an urgency in his eyes that makes Julie pause. Her conviction falters. He’s desperate. He wants her to believe.

Julie sighs. “Then what is it?”

“It’s complicated.” Luke cards a hand through his hair. His beanie is gone today. And Julie idly wonders where it goes whenever he takes it off.

Luke groans in frustration, and Julie’s attention is back on him. She doesn’t get why he’s so reluctant to tell her what’s bothering him. And that something is bothering him is hard to miss. It’s written all over his face. His eyes are squeezed shut; his mouth twisted into a grimace. And just in time, the electricity decides to be indecisive again. The lights are flickering again. It’s like somebody is tampering with the fuse. Or a short circuit. Or an electric interference. Or …

She regards Luke thoughtfully. Maybe she’s seeing things. But so far, the weird outages have always coincided with Luke’s mood swings – especially when he’s upset.

“Luke, is that you?”

“What?” Luke looks at her, startled. The lights stop flickering at once. “Oh.”

“Did you know you can do that?”

Luke shakes his head, mouth slightly agape as he stares up at the lamp above his head. After a moment, he snaps his mouth shut, sets his jaw, and knits his brows together – like he’s trying to charge his ghost powers. He glares at the lightbulb. Nothing happens.

Luke huffs in annoyance. The light begins to flicker again.

Julie isn’t sure whether she should laugh or shake her head. It’s kinda scary. But also hilarious. In the end, she does neither and instead says, “Okay, maybe we both need a break.” She fishes her keys and a couple of coins out of the bowl near the door. Jiggling them, she turns to check on Luke again.

He’s still preoccupied with his newfound ghost powers. He doesn’t even seem to notice her. His eyes remain trained on the lamp. Julie huffs, rolls her eyes, and reaches for the switch to flip the light off.

Luke jumps, obviously spooked by his “powers”, and Julie can’t stifle a giggle. That’s when he catches on.

He glares at her. Somehow, it’s more a full-grown pout than a glare.

Another giggle bubbles up Julie’s throat. Shaking her head, she opens the door. “Don’t fry my computer while I’m gone.”

Luke tilts his head in curiosity. “You think I can do that?”

“No, you can’t,” Julie warns him, and Luke’s expression turns smug. Of course he’s the type of person who considers a warning a challenge. 

She groans and pulls the door shut. She really hopes her electronic devices will survive.

The laundry room is downstairs. A flight of stairs next to the mailboxes leads from the foyer to the basement. The door to the stairs is usually locked. But when Julie arrives on the last landing before reaching the ground floor, she finds the door wide open. She stops, hesitant to descend the last steps. Her gaze flicks back upstairs. Maybe tonight isn’t a good day to do her laundry? But carrying the basket up and down the stairs is annoying, and she’s come so far – she’s too stubborn to turn around. She takes the last steps downstairs and inches toward the door, carefully spying around the corner.

A man is standing at the foot of the stairs. His back is turned toward her, so Julie can’t get a look at his face. He’s tall with warm brown skin and dark hair that’s piled up into a bun. His left hand rests on the banister, the other on the wall, blocking the stairs.  

He seems vaguely familiar. But Julie can’t lay a finger on it. Maybe he’s another tenant? He doesn’t strike her as a burglar. So she continues walking down. Maneuvering a basket with laundry down a narrow, steep staircase isn’t easy, let alone quiet.

Alerted by her steps, the guy whirls around. His eyes are brown and kind.

“I’m sorry,” he says and scuttles away to let her through.

Aside from the stranger, there’s no one else around. None of the laundry machines are in use, and there’s no sign of other baskets.

That’s weird.

In the middle of the room stands a metal table. Julie hoists her basket onto it, takes the magazine, and tosses it aside. Then, she places the coins, her keys, and the detergent next to it.

Three machines are lined up along the far wall. Julie picks the one to the right. While she loads it, she can still feel the stranger’s presence in the room. She casts a fleeting glance over her shoulder.

He doesn’t seem to mind her in the slightest. He’s frowning at the stairs, which is even odder. Maybe he’s searching for something. Involuntarily, Julie glances at the door next to the stairs. She didn’t give it much thought before. But now her interest has sparked. She wants to creep closer and risk a look inside. But she can’t.

The stranger doesn’t seem to care about the door, though. He’s more interested in the stairs, almost like he’s investigating them.

Julie tries to ignore him. But after loading the machine and inserting the coin, there isn’t much to distract her, and she can’t contain her burning curiosity any longer.

“Are you looking for something?”

The guy winces.

He eyes her warily.

“Do you know what happened here?”

“Yeah. I heard–” She cuts herself off, realizing what he said. She gasps. “Wait, you mean here?! Like here here?!”

The guy nods and tilts his head to the stairs.

Until now, Julie hasn’t given much thought to Luke’s accident. Mostly because she doesn’t want to be reminded of Luke’s death very much at all. Now that she knows, though …, she wonders if she’ll think of it every time she walks up and down the stairs.

Luke’s so bouncy. So energetic. It’s easy to imagine. He’s bounding down the stairs, excited to try out a new riff or show his friends a new song. He misses a step. Or trips over his own feet. He falls. He …

Julie squeezes her eyes shut. No, she doesn’t want to think about it. Alex’s reaction to the ketchup on Reggie’s plate already provided more information than necessary.

She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes again.

“Did you know Lu– the guy?”

The stranger looks puzzled for a moment, then moves his head from side to side.

“Kinda,” he says. “We hung out from time to time – but not well, no. He’s friends with Alex.”

“You know Alex?” And then it hits her. He’s the guy who talked to Alex on her first day. He worked for HGC. Oh, that’s why he looks so familiar.

“We’re, uh, acquaintances,” he says and winks at her. Nevertheless, a soft pink tinges his cheeks. “Loose acquaintances.”

Uh-huh. Totally.

Before Julie can fire off more questions, the ringing of a cell phone interferes. Searching for his phone, the guy pats the pockets of his hoodie and jeans. Eventually, he extracts a Nokia phone from the back pocket of his pants. He stares at the display and gulps visibly. Without a word, he spins around, grabs a skateboard that leans against the wall by the door, and then sprints up the stairs. He doesn’t pick it up until he’s in the foyer. Panting for breath, he gasps, “Sorry, Caleb, I–” He cuts himself off. There’s a pause, then, “Yes, Mr. Covington.” And then he’s out of earshot.

Caleb? Mr. Covington? As in Mr. Caleb Covington?! The owner of HGC?!

Julie had met Mr. Covington during the application process. He seemed fond enough of her skills. He praised her play. But since she started working for HGC, she’s seen him once or twice, only in passing.

Who is this guy to the company that Mr. Covington calls him after hours? He didn’t give her a name. But maybe Luke knows who this guy is.

Luke.

The thought of him makes her stomach churn. He died here. On his way to where they rehearsed. Julie doesn’t want to think about him falling to death. The image is already stuck in her head. So, instead, she eyes the door again.

A new thought occurs to her.

Maybe Luke is wrong. He claims he took it with him. But his friends would have found it if he had had it that day. And Luke’s memory of his deathday is fuzzy at best. He isn’t a reliable source. So what if he hid it down here? What if he was on his way to get it when he fell? So it has to be here.

While she can’t rule out the laundry room completely, she doubts it’s there. All tenants have access to it. He wouldn’t be that reckless. So that leaves …

She narrows her eyes at the unsuspicious door. It has to be there.

She pushes herself away from the rumbling machine. She strides across the room, hand already on the doorknob when a prick of consciousness lets her hesitate. Luke doesn’t want her to search for his journal. She doesn’t understand why. Not really. But she should respect it.

Luke trusts her. At least, he claims he does. If she opened that door – or just tried to – she’d betray his trust. She can’t do this.

He’s right. She has to let go of it. So, she does.  

When she gets back upstairs, her kitchen light isn’t working anymore. She flicks the switch a few times, but nothing happens. Ghosts!

Well, one ghost.

One ghost that’s plopped down on the rug by the couch, leaning over her coffee table, immersed in his work. 

“It’s the pre-chorus,” he declares, tapping a finger on one of the papers spread out on the table. “It’s supposed to connect the verse and the chorus. But right now, it feels like the opposite.” He frowns at the papers.

He’s deflecting. Of course he is. He doesn’t want to talk about his journal again. Or the band. Or even his ghost powers that got out of hand and fried a light bulb. At least Julie hopes it’s just the bulb.

Meanwhile, Luke has never stopped talking. “We need to tone it down a peg,” he continues on. “Maybe changing the key would be enough. But I need to hear it.” He groans, frustrated. “I wish I had my guitar!” He looks around, almost like he’s expecting his guitar to materialize out of thin air. It doesn’t, though. Disappointed, he sighs again. His fingers twitch like they want to play a riff on a fretboard.

Yeah, he is deflecting. And he’s not very subtle about it. But the thing is … Julie thinks he’s also right.

She hoists the laundry basket on the kitchen counter and traipses across the room to peer over his shoulder.

In the beginning, the music had been flowing. Spurred by fresh inspiration, they finished the first draft within days. Julie thinks it’s a good song. Even Luke thinks so. But it isn’t perfect yet. It’s still rough around the edges. The transition isn’t smooth enough.

Maybe it’s because the music Luke used to write for Sunset Curve is so fundamentally different from girl pop. Julie doesn’t know what his sound was like. But she has a good guess – given Trevor Wilson’s success and Luke’s clothing and all.

“I’ll ask Nick to play it in different keys,” Julie says, “And I’ll record it. Then we can decide together.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” But Luke doesn’t sound thrilled at all. Julie hasn’t been much into music recently. But she’s still a musician at heart – a realization that’s simultaneously exhilarating and scary. She just knows he wants to get his hand on it. He wants to feel the music.

On instinct, her eyes flit towards her bedroom. She could get her keyboard. She absolutely should get her keyboard. It has been gathering dust for far too long. And her fingers itched to dance. She’s desperate to prove their theory. But she can’t. She can neither will herself (nor her legs) to move. She isn’t ready. Yet.

So she doesn’t. Instead, she asks, “Where are your guitars?”

Luke shrugs. “Last time I saw them, the guys were packing up stuff. I like to think they kept them, you know? But if my parents got their hands on them… they probably trashed them. Or burned them to really seal the deal.” He scoffs, face turning sour and voice laced with bitterness. 

So, his relationship with his parents isn’t the best. Maybe that explains why a 17-year-old had needed his own apartment. Like before, Julie feels the urge to investigate. She wants to dig deeper. But Luke doesn’t look like he wants to share any more personal information. So Julie lets it slide.

Nevertheless, he still looks glum, and Julie still wants to say something. So, she blurts out, “I didn’t snoop.”

Her statement catches him off-guard. He stares at her, perplexed. Then, the ghost of a smile tugs at Luke’s lips. He nods in appreciation.

“Thanks.”

“But there was a guy downstairs.”

Julie quickly recounts her brief run-in with the nameless stranger. To her surprise, a grin stretches across Luke’s face. “That’s Willie,” he says, expression turning smug. “Alex has a crush on him.”

Oh. “Willie has one on Alex too.”

Luke snorts with laughter. “That’s what we’ve been telling Alex for ages. But every time we bring it up, he threatens to quit the band.”

“But he wouldn’t, right? He’s joking?”

Luke grins. “Yeah, nah, he’d never. The band means a lot to all of us.” Luke’s smile falls, and his shoulders slump. “Meant.”

Right. Past tense.

Luke doesn’t dwell on it. “It’s weird you met him in the basement, though,” he continues. “Willie doesn’t live here.”

“But he is working for HGC, isn’t he? I saw him on my first day.”

Luke nods. “Yeah, but frankly, I’ve no idea what he does. He runs all sorts of errands for Caleb.” He shrugs.

Which explains the call Willie had received. Julie can’t help but wonder what he’s doing for Caleb. He didn’t look thrilled when Mr. Covington had called him. Julie wonders what he’s been tasked with. But there’s no point in interrogating Luke – he won’t have any answers.

Sighing deeply, Julie sits down. But instead of settling on the couch, she plops down next to Luke. The proximity is a bit weird. Especially because she’s so avid about not touching him. She’s so close – she swears she can feel his presence. It’s kinda cold – like sitting next to the air conditioning. Or next to an open fridge. She shivers.

“Sorry,” Luke mumbles, his cheeks turning pink. The paper lamp above their heads flickers. They both look up.

“Please don’t blow out any more lights.”

Luke blushes furiously, and for a moment, Julie is mesmerized by the fact that ghosts can blush. And that it makes him look extremely cute. Julie feels her own cheeks warm. She is almost thankful when the light above their heads pulses once again before it dies.

Julie sighs. Do ghost-proof light bulbs exist?

A few days later, and after scouring Home Depot, Julie can confirm that ghost-proof bulbs do not exist. It’s a shame. And an absolute gap in the market. Maybe that’s her chance. If she got kicked out, finding a way to ghost-proof light bulbs and other electronic devices could be her new profession. Surely, there’s demand for it. She can’t be the only person harboring a dead sublease. Maybe in Pasadena … 

It’s an absurd idea. But entertaining thoughts like these help Julie distract herself from the impending doom.

Yesterday, she and Nick had submitted their draft, and today, they’ll receive feedback – from Caleb Covington himself. Of course, they’d been in constant exchange with his assistants, Dante and Fuego. But it’s one thing asking assistants for their opinions. But getting your work scrutinized by your boss is a totally different affair – even if it is only partially your work. However, what makes the situation substantially worse is the presence of almost every writer working for HGC.

They’re crammed into a meeting room. There aren’t enough seats for everyone. As a newbie, Julie doesn’t feel confident enough to join the rush on the few chairs. Instead, she hovers in the back, her back pressed against the wall. Nick is there, too. Julie keeps casting fleeting glances at him. From the way he shifts his weight, it becomes obvious that he’s equally nervous.

The only other person she knows is Bobby. He’s managed to snag a seat. But he doesn’t look particularly thrilled to be here. Head between his shoulders, he’s avoiding making eye contact with Mr. Covington, who’s sitting at the head of an oval table. Reclined in a fancy office chair and one leg crossed over the other, he’s leafing through a folder. Somebody must have printed and compiled all submissions. A CD player stands on the table next to a stack of CD cases. Julie spies the demo she and Nick handed in yesterday.

Mr. Covington doesn’t speak while he surveys the submitted songs. In fact, his demeanor gives absolutely nothing away. His face is devoid of emotions; his lips don’t even twitch while his pale eyes scan page after page. His silence is absolutely nerve-wracking. The air is cracking with tension.

He reaches the next page, studies it for a moment, and suddenly his expression changes swiftly. His eyes light up with excitement.

“Ah,” he says, making half of the room jump. “Julie and Nicholas.”

Julie tenses. Horrified, she exchanges a quick look with Nick. She sees her own panic mirrored on his face before directing her attention back to Mr. Covington. Her heart is pounding in her chest.

The CD cases click against each other as Mr. Covington sorts through them until he finds their demo. He cracks the case open, takes the CD, hits the open button on the CD player, and inserts the CD. Then he hits play.

There’s a static crack as the CD starts spinning. Then Nick’s guitar play fills the room. They didn’t record any vocals. And a single guitar can’t fully convey the tune of a pop song. But it’s enough to give a general impression of the melody.

With the music playing, Caleb picks up the folder with the lyrics again, reading along. Meanwhile, her fellow writers and composers are staring at her. Julie squirms uncomfortably. Their stares make her feel like a wriggling insect under a microscope.

The music ends, and Mr. Covington sets the folder down, humming thoughtfully.

Julie’s heart drops.

“The style isn’t exactly what I expected,” he says. He pauses to study the lyrics again. He frowns, inclining his head from side to side. “The rock elements are an audacious choice. Neither of you struck me as the rebellious type.” Head tilted, he gives her a long, piercing look. He’s right. Julie wouldn’t have dared to mix genres like that. Not on her first assignment. But Luke didn’t have such qualms. The rock influence certainly stems from him.

Julie forces a smile. “I, uh, just thought they’d make it more, uh, interesting.”

Mr. Covington raises a surprised brow. “Interesting, indeed.” He frowns at the lyrics again. After a moment, he clicks his tongue. “You have to make a few tweaks. Some edges must be smoothed out. But it does have potential. Let’s proceed with it and see what the studio can make of it.”

With that, he turns the page and proceeds with the next submission.

Relief washes over Julie. They’ve passed!

A big smile stretches her face. She spins around, gaping at Nick, who, in return, is beaming at her. If it wasn’t for the greedy crowd, she would throw her arms around his neck to hug him.

“I told you,” Nick says in a low whisper, “You are incredible.”

At once, Julie’s feeling of triumph evaporates. Her smile freezes, and an icy feeling settles in the pit of her stomach, numbing her high. She doesn’t deserve his praise. Luke does. It’s his achievement. It’s his work. She’s just pocketing the credit. She’s a swindler.  

Nick doesn’t know that, of course. So Julie dutifully thanks him for his compliment and secretly vows to pass it on to Luke. Maybe she should get him something to express her gratitude?

The rest of the meeting passes in a blur. Too preoccupied with possible gifts, Julie only distantly registers how Mr. Covington is dressing down one of the other writers. She’s just glad his anger isn’t directed toward her.

It’s past eight when Julie stumbles through her door. She barely has time to catch her breath. The moment she crosses the threshold, Luke assaults her. Julie stops dead in her tracks to avoid rushing through him.

“Where were you?” He’s blocking her way, hands on his hips. It makes him look and sound like a nagging parent. Luke must have noticed it, too. He gasps, arms falling to his sides as horror enters his eyes. “Oh fuck, I sound like my mom.”

Julie would have laughed out loud if she hadn’t been so drained. It’s been a stressful day. And she’s sure she’ll need what little energy she has left once Luke gets wind of where she’d been.

Julie giggles. Carefully, she steps around him. That’s when Luke catches sight of the bright yellow plastic bag in her right hand. He doesn’t need to see the red logo to deduce why she’s late. His face lights up.

“Tower Records?!” he exclaims. “You were at Tower Records?!”

“And I swung by Home Depot.” To make a point, she raises her left hand, showing him another shopping bag. “I had to stock up on lightbulbs.”  

But Luke dismisses her admonishing comment with a flick of his wrist. His focus is solely on the other bag. There’s new music to explore.

Like with her Dreambox, it’s nearly impossible to tame his energy. He’s too excited. Then again, he’s trapped in here all day every day. She can’t blame him for that. He’s desperate for distraction. It’s one of the reasons why she doesn’t understand his reluctance to search for his journal. It could be his way out of this misery. But he’d asked her not to look for it, and Julie has kept that promise. It’s his decision. Julie respects this. And to be honest, she enjoys and profits from his company. It’s a win-win situation.

Sighing, Julie ambles over to the kitchen and places both bags on the counter. Luke’s trailing behind her. “What did you get?” He’s bouncing again as he peers over her shoulder.

“It’s for you, actually.”

Luke stills mid-movement, gaping at her.

“I want to thank you,” Julie continues when Luke stays silent. “For all you’ve done for me. Without you, I would have lost my job.”

“So, Covington likes the song?”

Julie nods. “He wants some changes. But he greenlit a demo.”

Luke makes a sound of grim triumph. He detests Caleb. But his song made an impression. He succeeded. He may be dead, but his music isn’t. His success fills him with vindication and glee.

“I just wish I could somehow credit you. You’d deserve it. Especially after Caleb stole your songs.” Julie hesitates, chewing on her lip as she deliberates her next words. Doubt and guilt have been gnawing at her for a while now. “It kinda feels like I’m doing the same.”

Luke shakes his head, waving off her concerns. “You are not. I offered to do it, remember? It was my choice. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to make music anymore. You’re my mouthpiece.” A soft smile tugs at his lips. “I’m glad it’s you who moved in.”

Julie mirrors his smile. “And I’m glad it’s you who lives here.”

Luke is biting his lip to stop a grin from overtaking his face. But the blush crawling up his neck gives him away.

A warmth blooms in her stomach. From there, it spreads through her entire body. She can feel its tingle reaching her fingertips.

Luke’s cute. Julie acknowledged that the moment she found him in her refrigerator, rambling about the appropriate way to store dairy products. But he’s more than just a charming smile and a nice voice. Julie genuinely enjoys his company. He saved her. They’re friends. Now, if only he were alive.

“Okay, boss, now show me! What do you have there?” Luke asks, bursting Julie’s bubble. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. “I just hope it’s not more bubblegum pop.” Luke wrinkles his nose in disgust.

Laughter bubbles up Julie’s throat. “Yeah, Mr. Covington remarked on the rock influence. But no, it’s not.” Still giggling, she reaches into the plastic bag. “In fact, I got you two things.” She produces an envelope from the bag, opens it, and extracts a photo. She places it on the counter for Luke to see. He gasps and stills. It’s the photo of Luke and his friends.

“I know I’m not supposed to have this, and I’m sorry if I overstepped. But I saw this photo on Bobby’s desk, and I thought maybe you’d like to have it too. I made a copy, got it digitalized and printed.” Julie pauses to study Luke. He’s still staring at the photograph. A sentimental smile plays on his lips. He reaches out, his fingers hovering over their grinning faces, not daring to touch it. He knows he can’t.

“I can put it on the fridge if you like,” Julie offers.

Luke sniffles wetly, eyes misting over. After a moment, he nods and croaks, “Thank you.”

So, Julie takes it and pins it on the fridge, using one of the magnets she got during their last trip to Puerto Rico. She smiles at it. Having it here feels right. But she needs to be careful. If Flynn spots it, she wouldn’t hesitate to bombard her with probing questions.  

When Julie turns around again, Luke has composed himself again.

“Ready to see the rest?” Julie lifts the plastic bag.

Luke’s eyes are still somewhat misty. But he plasters on a big grin. “Absolutely!”

Julie fishes a stack of CDs out of the bag, and methodically, she lays them out on the counter.

Luke bounds over, leaning over her shoulder as he inspects the covers eagerly. His eyes flit over the CD cases, focusing on one for less than a second before moving on to the next. So many options.

“So which one first?”

Eventually, they land a cover sporting a white, blonde girl dressed in black. Arms crossed, she’s staring defiantly into the camera. The cars and the people in the background are blurry. Her name and the album’s title are scribbled above her head.

Luke points at the CD. “Who’s that?”

Julie smirks. If her theory about Luke and his rebellious attitude is correct, he’ll love her. Julie read about her in Rolling Stone while doing the laundry. When she visited the music store earlier, she’d given her debut album a listen. She’s good.

She picks up the CD and reads the title. Something in Julie’s chest tightens.

Let Go.

Suddenly, Julie is overcome by a sense of foreboding. Her mouth grows dry, and her fingers numb. She gulps.

Is this a sign?

But for what? There’s nothing to let go of. Luke’s a ghost.

She brushes it off. Plastering on a big smile, she says, “Let me introduce you to Avril Lavigne.”

Chapter Text

September 2002

Watching a song come to life is truly a miracle.

The day after Mr. Covington greenlit the song, the whole production machine sprang into gear. Suddenly, it isn’t just her and Nick anymore. Now, there’s an entire team involved. Composers, mixers, studio musicians, vocalists, supervisors, project managers. The sheer mass of people is overwhelming.

And Julie is in the midst of it.

It’s stressful. It’s frightening. The threat of exposure is looming above her head. The involvement of so many people heightens the chance that someone will discover the truth.

Nevertheless, Julie can’t help but be amazed by all the hustle and bustle. Her mom used to be in a band. They used to record songs. But they disbanded when Julie was little. That doesn’t mean she’s a total stranger to studios. She did get some experience at university. But it’s the first time she has experienced it in a work context. It’s so different. If she fails, there’s no second chance. It’s thrilling.

Another factor that adds to Julie’s nervousness are some of the new team members. The label has assigned Alex and Reggie as studio musicians. Alex is a drummer. Julie already knew that. And Reggie plays bass, which seems fitting.

She’s excited to work with them. She likes them. But their presence is a risk, too. They know Luke. What if they discover parallels? That prospect scares her the most.

She expresses her concerns to Luke while he’s brooding over some drafts. Her words make him stop. There’s a flicker of doubt in his eyes. For a second, he seems worried too. Then, he shoves his worries aside.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s a completely different genre. And even if there are similarities, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a coincidence. We never met, right?”

Julie nods. Right. Luke’s right. There’s no objective reason as to why they would make a connection between her and Luke. Luke had already been dead for six months when she moved in. She’s just being paranoid.

It’s the stress. There’s still so much work to do. The song must be polished up before it can be presented to the client.  

It’s a distinct advantage that Luke doesn’t sleep. He spends day and night refining verses and rearranging lyrics. Luke’s incredibly driven about music. When he’s in the zone, nothing can deter him. Julie knows that level of devotion. It reminds her of her mom. And her former self.

 She used to be like this.

She used to spend afternoons hunched over, scribbling lyrics and melodies in her journal, ignoring the whole world around her until her mom insisted it was time for dinner. Julie was never happy about those distractions. She’d thrown up her arms in exasperation before stomping down the stairs, annoyed that the offenses of food, toilet breaks, and family outings kept her away from writing. Luke isn’t any different. He grumbles when she requests a break or rolls his eyes at her when she’s too slow to note down all of his ideas.

That doesn’t mean Julie isn’t trying. She wants to help. She wants to contribute.

Sometimes, she can even feel it. This energy she thought he had lost when she lost her mother. Now, she can feel it simmer under her skin. It’s itching. Julie needs to scratch. Just a bit.

“What if,” she begins, stopping jotting down notes to frown at the absolute chaos of sheets littering her coffee table. Luke, who’s been rambling non-stop about possible changes, falls silent at once. He gives her a curious look.

“What if we swap the second and third lines in the second verse?” Julie says, drumming on the coffee table like tapping a beat. “Wouldn’t that improve the flow?”

Luke frowns. He doesn’t say so, but it’s crystal clear he isn’t convinced.  

“Hear me out,” Julie pleads. She grabs a pencil and leans over the page, drawing little arrows in the margin where lines must be switched. “Instead of ‘It’s not my fault I got the fame’ we start the verse with ‘They know my face; they know my name’.”

She can feel Luke’s eyes on her. It prickles in her neck. She knows she’s captured his attention now.

“We keep ‘Reputation on lock’ as it is and put ‘It’s not my fault I got the fame’ at the end of the verse.”

She puts the pencil aside and reads out the whole verse.

“They know my face
They know my name
Reputation on lock
It’s not my fault I got the fame.”

Yeah, it doesn’t sound half bad.

Feeling oddly confident, she turns at Luke, awaiting his judgment. She’s already laying out arguments in her head. If necessary, she’ll fight.  

Luke blinks slowly as he processes the changes. Julie can almost see the gears clicking in his head.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes wide as they bounce between her and the sheet. “You’re right. It sounds good.”

Julie lets out a breath of relief. However, she’s a bit disappointed that she can’t even fight for a stance. She has good, solid arguments. She would have convinced him. She almost wants to try anyway, just to see if they’d have worked.

“’Ain’t my fault; I won’t stop.’”

“Huh?”

“How about we add another line to the end of the verse?”

Julie lets it roll around in her head. Yeah, it fits. Perfectly, actually.

“I like it,” she tells him. Luke’s grin stretches from ear to ear.

Julie likes it. This big, boyish grin suits him.

“Admit it, secretly, you are a big fan of girl groups!”

Luke moves his head from side to side, deliberating his answer. “Remember when we listened to the demo? I told you. It’s not my style. But some of the songs … I get ‘em. To make it in the music industry, you have to be ambitious. You have to believe in your goals. Hiding your talent won’t get you far.” He shrugs. “If you don’t believe in yourself, then who will?”

Ouch. That kinda stings. Julie knows he didn’t mean to criticize her. But she cannot help but relate his words to her own lack of ambition and conviction. He’s right. If she wants to succeed, she needs to give her everything.

Today, she took a hesitant step in the right direction. But it was only the first step.

If she wants to escape her self-imposed punishment, she must crawl out of it on her own. She knows she has the support of her family. And her friends. And Luke … hopefully. But it’s her fight. She must come out of her shell … if she really wants to. She’s been grieving for a long time, and she’d felt like that grief would last forever. Maybe it will. But is she ready to accept she’ll never play music again, forever? Does she really want that?

Does she?

“Oh, and the part about Freddie Mercury was smart.”

It’s such an offhand comment; Julie can’t help it. She lapses into giggles, clutching onto her sides to not lose composure completely.

“Is there any music you don’t like?”

Later, she tells herself. She’ll figure it out later.

“Nope,” Luke says cheerfully, popping the ‘p’. “Music is music. It always has this special sort of energy, you know.”

Julie nods. Yeah, she gets it. She can feel it again. This sizzle and spark underneath her skin. The burning in her soul. She’ll get there. Soon.

“But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever let Reggie record his country album,” Luke continues, and his lips curl in disgust.

“Country?”

Luke rolls his eyes. “He’s really into it. And he wants Sunset Curve to record this song he wrote. Home is Where My Horse Is. He kept putting it in my journal to convince me.”

Julie can’t stifle a giggle. “Sounds like you missed out on a real banger.”

Luke scoffs, his face twisting into a grimace. “He just wants to show off his banjo skills. He absolutely shreds” – air quotes – “on it.”

“Very cool. I should learn how to fiddle.”

“Traitor!” Luke glowers at her. But there’s a twinkle in his eyes. It gives him away.

Julie snorts, and then they both break into laughter.

Once again, Julie is reminded of how much she enjoys his laugh. He has a good laugh. The sound makes her relax. Makes her feel at home. Makes her want to nudge his shoulder with a playful smile. Makes her wish he had a body.

But Julie still has a body. A body with pressing needs – like sleep. And her body is very demanding.

It’s almost two in the morning, but until now, Julie hasn’t felt particularly tired. She’s been too absorbed with the song. But now that high is wearing off, and sleepiness is crashing down on her. Her eyelids begin to droop, and she tries hard to hold back a yawn. But it’s too late. Luke has noticed. For a moment, he looks disappointed. But he’s quick to conceal it.

“Go to bed, boss.”

“No, I’m good.” She yawns again to prove her point.

“Your body needs rest, boss,” Luke says softly. 

Julie knows he’s right. But she’s grumpy, and tired, and thus too stubborn to admit it. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m sure my body is already resting,” Luke smirks, winking at her. “Six feet under.”

A few weeks ago, his statement would have made her scoff and roll her eyes at him. Now, it just makes her sad. Sometimes, she wishes …

She sighs, and a stray curl falls into her eyes. She huffs, even more frustrated. Now, her hair is sabotaging her, too. 

Luke’s grin falters. His eyes track the loose curl, hypnotized. Suddenly, he gulps. Then, he’s reaching out, his fingers coming closer. Julie holds her breath, bracing herself for his touch and the consequences.

But it never comes. His hand passes right through the curl, blurring at the edges.

Luke’s hand stops mid-movement. It hovers there for an awkward moment, then Luke drops it, and Julie feels utterly devastated.

With a sad smile, Luke says, “It’s late. Go to bed.”

This time, Julie doesn’t argue. She doesn’t have the strength. She acquiesces.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Heaving a sigh, Julie unfolds her legs and stands. Luke doesn’t. He remains seated on the carpet. He always does, and it’s always weird. She feels like she’s abandoning him.

Luke smiles at her. “Night, boss. See you tomorrow.”

The next day, Julie is running late. She overslept. Toothbrush in her mouth, she’s running around like a headless chicken, hunting down her belongings for work. There might be some cursing going on. Okay, a lot of cursing.

Meanwhile, Luke’s looking like he’s having the best time of his afterlife. Perched on the kitchen counter, he watches her – like her frenzy is his favorite form of morning entertainment.

Julie tries her best to ignore him. But it’s hard. Even when she’s not looking at him, she can see his irritating grin.

Rushing over to the coffee table, she piles the loose sheets of paper into a stack. It’s a challenging task when you’re attempting to brush your teeth at the same time.

“You’re dripping,” Luke comments from his perch in the kitchen.

Julie wants to snap at him but doesn’t want to run the risk of spluttering toothpaste all over yesterday’s notes. So she resorts to a glare. Luke isn’t fazed. It just fuels his amusement. He grins like the Cheshire cat.

“You’ve got something right here.” He points at his chin. At the same time, Julie feels drool running down her chin. Groaning (and almost choking on her own spit), Julie bangs the papers on the counter and rushes into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she emerges with a clean face but not in a better mood. She’s still stressed.

“Why didn’t you wake me up in the first place?” she snaps as she shoulders her bag.

“You banned me from your room.”

Right. She did.

“Please, next time I’m running late – especially when I have to discuss changes with Nick and Mr. Covington – ignore this rule. Just try to wake me up.”

Luke frowns. “How?”

“Whatever you can think of.”

Julie regrets her words as soon as they leave her mouth. Luke’s expression turns smug again. “Aye-aye, boss.” He even mock-salutes.

Yup. She will absolutely suffer. But she doesn’t have the nerve to dwell on the consequences. There are too many other things she has to worry about. She has to confer with Nick about the changes. She needs to propose the changes to Mr. Covington and the entire team. And she’s still late.

She grabs the stack of papers and presses it against her chest before dashing to the door. Her mind and her heart are racing. Her hand is quaking. It takes her a minute to unlatch the door. Eventually, she pulls the door open and hurries outside.

“Hey, Julie.”

Hand on the door handle, she stops and peers over her shoulder. Luke’s still smiling. But there’s no trace of glee. Their eyes meet.

“You’ve got this.”

There it is. Luke’s confidence. He always makes it sound so easy. Julie wants to believe him.

“Thank you.”

She closes the door behind her.

Due to being late, the office is already buzzing with people. But that just makes it easier for her to sneak in. Nobody is paying attention to her as she weaves her way through the labyrinth of desks and cubicles.

She arrives at her desk and immediately blanches when she’s greeted by a blinking red light on her phone. She has a missed call. Dropping her bag by the foot of the desk, she navigates through the phone’s menu. Her heart drops when she recognizes the number. It’s Nick’s. She picks up the receiver, dials, and waits. As she listens to the ringback tone, she keeps an eye on the display. After 30 seconds, she hangs up. Maybe he’s searching for her. In that case, it’s wiser to just stay here and wait. He’ll either call again or find her.

 Or maybe he wrote her an email. So Julie plops down on her chair and boots her computer. She checks her mail client, but there’s nothing urgent in her mailbox. No mail from Nick either. There is, however, an email informing everyone in the office that there’s cake in the break room. Just reading the subject makes Julie’s stomach rumble greedily. She was in such a rush this morning that she didn’t get a chance to grab breakfast. Or coffee. And the latter is a fundamental necessity to survive an office day.   

So Julie decides to try her luck and check out if there’s cake left. Oh god, she hopes so.

The break room isn’t a separate room. It’s a kitchenette squeezed into a niche of the open-plan office area. It doesn’t offer much: a counter, a fridge, and a table with mismatching chairs. But it does provide caffeine in various forms, and that’s what really matters. And today, there’s cake. Julie is still a newbie on the job. But she’s made a few keen observations so far. For example, the announcement of free treats is a guarantee to lure in stray coworkers. Maybe Nick’s there, too. She could kill two birds with one stone.

But there’s no sign of Nick. There are, however, two other familiar faces. Bobby and Reggie are sitting at the table, both of them with steaming mugs of coffee in their hands. They’re mid-conversation, but when Julie enters, they look up and fall silent.

Their sudden silence makes Julie uncomfortable.

 “Morning,” she says to bridge the awkward silence. “How’s it going?”

Bobby nods in lieu of a greeting. But Reggie gives her a smile. It lacks happiness. “Good. How are you?”

“Pretty tired. My system needs coffee to boot up.” Just in time, Julie’s stomach gives a loud, undignified grumble.

“And food,” Bobby deadpans.  

Julie blushes. Ugh. That’s embarrassing.

Reggie laughs. “There’s still cake left.” He motions toward a Tupperware container sitting on the counter next to the electric coffeemaker.

“Thank goodness.” Julie discards the rest of her self-respect. She’s too hungry to care much longer.

She takes a mug and plate from the cupboard and pours herself a cup of coffee before lifting the lid. Her mouth waters at the sight of the frosting. Eagerly, she puts a piece on her plate.

Neither Bobby nor Reggie speak while Julie fixes herself an improvised breakfast. Julie wonders what they’d been talking about. Given their glum faces, it couldn’t have been anything good.   

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Julie says, plate and cup in her hands. “See you later.”

Bobby just nods again. Reggie waves. “Bye, Julie!”

She smiles and leaves. But Julie’s too nosy for her own good sometimes. So outside, she rounds a corner and stops. Her stomach protests loudly.

“Psst,” she lectures it.

Her stomach growls again. Quieter. Good. Then Julie pricks her ears and listens.

It’s Reggie’s turn to speak. “Maybe if we go later?”

“I can’t,” Bobby says.

“But it’s Luke’s—”

“I know!” Bobby snaps. Reggie falls silent at once.

Julie frowns. Luke? What about Luke? Julie edges closer again, peering around the corner. From her position, she can only see Reggie’s back. But she gets a look at Bobby. By default, Bobby seems to be a rather moody type of person. He doesn’t smile a lot. But now his face is twisted into a grimace, and his hands are balled into fists. They’re shaking with rage.  

“But Covington has it in for me—for us. He suspects that Luke was hiding more songs from him.”

“He’s not wrong,” Reggie says. “They’re in Luke’s—”

Bobby moves quickly. He leaps across the table and slaps a hand over Reggie’s mouth.

“Are you nuts?” Bobby hisses. Reggie attempts to reply, but his words are muffled.

Julie anticipates Bobby’s next move and quickly retreats behind the wall before he glances over his shoulder. Then he sighs.

“We still don’t know where it is.”

“Yeah,” Reggie agrees, “And we’re not gonna give it to him anyway.”

“Yeah, but Covington’s patience is wearing thin. He expects me to deliver. I need to give him something by Monday to get him off our backs for a while.”

Reggie sighs. It’s a heavy, resigned sound. It doesn’t fit him. “You’re right. Luke will understand.”

Bobby laughs bitterly. “No, he won’t. He wanted us to quit.”

And that’s it. Chairs scrape on the floor as they are pushed back from the table, and Julie hurries away to avoid being caught red-handed.  

Back at her desk, she attacks the cake. She can’t help the moan from escaping her lips when she takes the first bite. It’s so good. Even her stomach chirps happily.

Once the most pressing needs of her stomach are met, she slows down to actually savor the taste.

Chewing slowly, she recounts the conversation. From what she parsed out, they were talking about Luke’s journal. Julie already knows about his journal and that it’s missing. And Luke already suspects that Covington is still after his songs. So, none of it was any news to her. And yet …

She swallows her last bite and frowns.

Out of the corner of her eye, she registers a movement to her right. She spins around just as Nick approaches her.

“There you are,” he says, smiling. “I was looking for you.”

“I know. I tried to call you back. I’m sorry. I, uh, overslept.”

He smiles sympathetically. “Long night?”

“Kinda. I had an idea for the song that I wanted to refine.”

Nick’s eyebrows shoot up in curiosity. “Yeah?”

Julie nods. “Wanna go through it?”

He does, and they go on a hunt for an empty conference room. It doesn’t take long to update Nick on the changes. They aren’t too radical. However, the added line requires adjustments to the melody. Otherwise, the overall composition would be out of balance.

Nick studies the annotation she scribbled (on Luke’s behalf) in the margin. They aren’t very refined. But they should give him a general idea.

After a minute or two, Nick beams at her. “Julie, this is brilliant.”

Julie blushes. Her neck tickles with warmth. Self-conscious, she tugs at a lock of her hair. The very same lock that was giving her such a hard time yesterday. “You sure? Isn’t it too clunky? I feel like the harmony might be off. And what about the chorus? Is it still—”

“Julie,” Nick stops her. “It’s incredible.”

And yet, he fumbles awkwardly with his guitar.

“So, you think we can present it to Mr. Covington?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright,” Julie says, nodding to herself as she rises to her feet. “Alright. I’ll talk to Dante and Fuego. Hopefully, they can schedule a meeting with him for …” She trails off. Nick hasn’t moved. Still clutching onto his guitar, he’s gazing at her, head tilted to one side. Julie can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes.

“What’s up?”

He stands abruptly. His free arm is pressed against his body, and … wait, is he blushing?

“Can I, uh, ask you something?”

“Okay, Jules, spill it.” Flynn sits across from her, crosslegged and arms folded.

“Spill what?” Julie tries. But Flynn knows her like the back of her hand. Julie can’t deceive her.

“Uh-uh!” Flynn lifts an admonishing finger at her and wags it. “Don’t give me that crap!”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “Don’t give us that crap.” He’s sprawled out on her beanie bag, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Julie levels him with an icy glare. She attempts to, anyway. But just like this morning, Luke isn’t impressed. He’s enjoying himself way too much.

“Jules,” Flynn says sharply, snapping her fingers urgingly. “Don’t ignore me. I’m right here.”

Right. Reluctantly, Julie directs her attention back to her friend. Flynn still has no idea about Luke’s existence. Even though Flynn has been her best friend for two decades, Julie has no inclination to share that particular piece of information with her.

“Much better. And don’t try to ignore me again.”

Julie doesn’t. But she does try to ignore Luke’s gleeful cackling.

“So, what happened today? Because I know that something did happen. I can sense it. That’s my best-friend superpower.”

True. There’s no point in arguing with her. “Mr. Covington asked for adjustments to the song we wrote for this client. I didn’t know what to do with it for a while. But yesterday, I had a burst of inspiration, and we spent half of the night working the changes in.”

“That certainly explains the bags under your eyes,” Flynn remarks drily.

Julie sighs. “I overslept and ran late for work. But Nick and I went through the adjustments, and we presented the song to Mr. Covington.”

“And?” Flynn is practically vibrating with badly contained curiosity. Even Luke is holding his breath now.

“He liked it.”

“Ha!” Flynn and Luke exclaim in unison. And while Luke pumps his fist into the air, Flynn throws her arms around Julie’s shoulders and pulls her into a hug. “You did it!” Flynn whispers into her ear. “I’m so happy for you. And me!”

Julie pulls herself away from the hug to give her a questioning look. “You?”

Flynn flashes her a toothy smile. “Of course. You’re not gonna be kicked out. When we were in seventh grade, we promised to work together, remember?”

“But we hardly see each other at work.”

But Flynn waves her objection off. “Details. What matters is that you did it. I’m so proud of you.”

Tears of gratitude well up in Julie’s eyes. She sniffles, and her voice is thick with emotion when she thanks Flynn. Even Luke lets out a strangled sob.  

“Thank you. But I couldn’t have done this without help.” She makes eye contact with Luke. It’s true. Without his support, she would have been phenomenally screwed.

“Right,” Flynn says slowly. “Your ghostwriter. Not gonna lie, I’ve had my doubts about that whole entire business.”

“I know. But I can assure you. There’s nothing sketchy about it. It’s just …”

“… complicated. Yeah, you mentioned that.” Flynn hums. She still has her reservations. That’s okay. Then, “Is it Nick?”

Julie splutters. “What?! No, it’s not Nick. We’re already working together. It wouldn’t have been a problem then!”

Flopped back in the beanie bag, Luke rolls his eyes. “As if Nick could come up with those riffs.”  Julie shoots him a warning look.

“Nick is a fantastic guitar player …”

Luke scoffs. “He’s passable. Some of his chords are real sloppy.”

“… and he’s really sweet and kind …” And there’s much to say about Nick. Just the thought of what he asked her makes Julie fidgety. Flynn can tell that she’s hiding something. But she lets it slide. For now.

“… but, no, it’s not Nick.”

“How can you be so sure about it?” Flynn folds her arms. “It could be! You only met online, right? You don’t know his identity. Or hers.”

“I, uh …” Flynn has a very valid point. She turns to Luke, desperate for help.

“That’s on you,” Luke says, shrugging. “The internet. Ha! You should have told her you placed an ad in the classifieds.”

“I doubt you ever read the newspaper,” Julie mutters under her breath.

“I could have!” Luke protests, then smiles sheepishly. “But true.” Thinking, he cocks his head. “How about letters?”

“Letters?” Julie asks, perplexed.

“Letters?” Flynn repeats, equally confused. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, letters.” Julie clears her throat. “We write each other letters. Like penpals.”

“He has your address?”

Julie didn’t miss the alarmed tone in Flynn’s voice. She needs to act quickly.

“Yes, but I also have his. And he doesn’t even live here.” That’s most certainly true. Luke doesn’t live here.

Flynn isn’t fooled that easily. “Where does he live?”

“Oh, far away. Very far away.”

“Where, Jules?”

“Errr …” Julie’s gaze lands on her Ikea bookshelves. “Sweden!”

“Sweden?” Flynn and Luke ask synchronously, and they both give her equally incredulous looks. It’s a good thing Flynn doesn’t know about Luke. As hilarious as their synchronicity is, it’s also kinda scary. Those two would be either dangerous allies or mortal enemies. Julie isn’t sure which prospect concerns her more.

“You should have said Canada,” Luke says offhandedly. “My grandma was from Canada.”

Maybe Julie would have done this if she had known. Now, she has to stick to her story.

“Yup, Sweden. They’re not only great at making meatballs but also at making music. Like ABBA.”

Flynn hums. Her dark eyes regard her intently, taking note of every treacherous twitch and nervous tic. Under her intense gaze, Julie tenses.

After a heartbeat, Flynn says, “Okay.”    

“You believe it?”

“No,” Flynn says coolly. “But you’re a grown-up woman. You make your own decisions. So as long as it’s working, I won’t say anything.”

“Thanks.”

“Plus …” And suddenly, Flynn’s expression turns feral. “There’s another secret I’m way more interested in.”

Julie makes a strangled noise. “What?”

Flynn smirks. “Don’t deny it, Jules. I’ve heard some really interesting rumors … about you and—”

Julie gasps. How did she find out about it?!

Flynn smiles smugly. “I have my sources. But I want to hear it from you. What happened between you and Nick?”

Julie squirms uncomfortably in her seat. It’s not that she doesn’t want to tell Flynn about it. It’s just …

“Nick?” Suddenly very attentive, Luke sits up. His eyes dart curiously between both women. Like he’s observing a captivating ping-pong match.

And that’s exactly the crux of the matter. She isn’t sure she wants Luke to know … even though she can’t quite fathom why.

“Jules, spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Jules,” Flynn says warningly.

Urgh! Fine!

“Nickaskedmeoutonadate.”

“What was that?” Flynn asks. But the glint in her eyes suggests that she understood her perfectly. Luke, on the other hand, stares at her, face blank. That doesn’t make this any easier.

Julie clears her throat. “Nick asked me out … ”

A wicked grin splits Flynn’s face. “And?”

Julie hesitates. Her eyes flit surreptitiously in Luke’s direction. He hasn’t said anything. It concerns her. Unfortunately, Luke’s expression gives absolutely nothing away, and yet it’s a telling reaction …

Julie sighs. “I said yes.”

Flynn squeals excitedly. But Julie can’t share her excitement. Her mind wanders back to Luke.

It’s weird, but his silence makes her skittish. Why is she so concerned about how he handles the news? It’s not like she needs his permission. It’s not like she’s betraying him. Maybe because they’re friends. She doesn’t need his approval. But she wants it.  

She doesn’t get a chance to talk to him, though. Flynn is very eager to discuss the details of the date.

When are they going to meet up? On Sunday afternoon.

What are they going to do? Julie isn’t sure. Maybe the movies.

Is this going to affect the way they work together?

That gets Julie to pause. She hasn’t thought about it. Will it affect their professionalism? What if it doesn’t work out? What if it does? What if they realize, years into working together, that they’re not compatible? What if they break up?

Thoughts like these put Julie on edge. She’s getting ahead of herself. And Luke’s silence fuels her anxiety. Thus, she’s almost relieved when Flynn leaves two hours later. She sighs and leans against the closed door.

“So, you have a date with Nick.”

He doesn’t bother to beat around the bush, huh? Julie nods stiffly.

“How’d that happen?”

Julie shrugs. “He asked me; I said yes,” she says casually, but can’t help but feel slightly irritated by Luke’s attitude.

“Yeah, but why?”

And that’s enough. So much for feeling sorry for him. Anger flashes in Julie’s eyes. A warning. “That’s none of your business!” She plants her hands on her hips. “Boundaries, remember?”

Luke juts out his chin stubbornly. He wants to argue. But he’s not in the position to challenge her stance.

“Right,” he grumbles. “You’re right. It’s just …” He huffs, frustrated. Something flickers in his eyes. “Do you like him?”

Julie pauses. Does she?

Well, Nick is cute. Really cute. Julie most certainly has a crush on him. And he’s a very skilled musician. Maybe not as talented as Luke. But he’s decent. But aside from that? What does Julie know about him? Not much, to be honest. Apart from some basic small talk, they hardly talk about their private lives. But isn’t that the purpose of a date? To get to know each other?  

“That’s what I want to figure out.” Tilting her head, she gives him a long, thoughtful look. “Are you jealous?”

Luke’s eyes bulge. He lets out a strangled yelp. “What?! No! I’m just … concerned!”

“Concerned? Why?” Julie frowns. “Do you think he’s a creep?”

“No,” Luke admits, “But he could be a total weirdo who collects Pokemon Cards, plays D&D, and attends Harry Potter midnight launch parties, wearing a cape.”

“Pretty sure it’s a cloak,” Julie mutters, then, louder, she says, “And why does this sound like you’re describing Reggie?”

Luke snorts, arms flailing wildly. “He called me a Muggle! What the fuck even is a Muggle?!”

Julie opens her mouth, ready to explain the term to him. But she quickly realizes that her input won’t be appreciated. Overall, it’ll probably do more harm than good.

“If Nick’s wearing a cloak and wants to trade Pokemon cards, I’ll ditch him.” She flashes Luke a cheeky grin. “Happy?”

Luke doesn’t object. But he still looks supremely grumpy. “Why does it have to be on Sunday, though. We could do so much songwriting on the weekend. We usually do.”

Julie chortles. “Because we barely write on weekdays?”

“Exactly!” Luke sighs dramatically. Then he casts a glance over his shoulder, and suddenly, he goes very still, eyes wide and face pale. Julie follows his gaze to where Julie has pinned a calendar to the wall. Sunday is already marked with a red circle. And maybe a little heart sticker for good measure. But aside from that, there’s nothing weird about it. Still, Luke stares at it like he’s seen a ghost.  

Julie frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Luke doesn’t answer. After a moment, he simply shakes his head. “Nothing.” He exhales shakily. “I just … I just didn’t realize it’s already September.” He sounds resigned. Bitter.

Julie feels a pang of sympathy for him. He lost track of time again.

Julie gets it. She’s his only link to the outside world. The only person he can interact with. It’s a lonely existence.

But as much as she feels for Luke and enjoys his company, Julie doesn’t want to cancel her date. She likes Nick, too. And he has a distinct advantage. He’s not dead.

Luke doesn’t spend too much time wallowing in self-pity. He shakes himself one more time to get rid of any melancholy feelings, then plasters on a smile. Like nothing happened whatsoever.

“So, Sweden?” Luke asks, expression turning smug.

Julie groans. Fuck!

“You really should have said Canada.”

Julie puts her head into her hands. “I know. How did I even— Sweden! That’s absurd! How long does it even take to send a letter there? And the postage!”

Well, there’s no use crying over spilled milk. It’s done now. Chin up and eyes forward.

“Alright,” she sighs, “I need my stationery!” Determined, she homes in on her bookshelves.

“What for?”

“I need to write a letter.”

Luke barks out a laugh. “Are you really gonna write a letter to Sweden?”

“Of course not. What address am I supposed to put on? But I can pretend.”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel better. And I like the vibe.”

It does take a while to locate her stationery. Her Tia got her a pretty writing set for her last birthday. It’s a good opportunity to put it to use. Julie is sure she put it in one of the binders on her shelf, but she can’t recall which one. In the end, Julie loses patience, grabs all binders and folders, and dumps them on the coffee table. Sifting through them, she quickly discards those that don’t contain what she’s looking for, growing more and more frustrated the longer she searches.

Meanwhile, Luke’s hovering behind her, peering over her shoulder. He loves snooping, and this poses as a perfect opportunity.

“Hey, boss, what’s this?”

“What’s what?” Julie asks without looking up.

Luke doesn’t reply, but Julie can hear him hum a melody under his breath. Typical. He got distracted by music. The melody, though. It’s vaguely familiar. Maybe he found some old music sheets from her time in college.

She continues her search. But after leaving through another binder, she pauses and frowns. These aren’t her college folders. These are the music folders she snatched from the studio when she moved out. No wonder she can’t find it.

She huffs, annoyed.

“Did you write this?” Luke asks suddenly.

“Write what?” Julie can’t help but feel irritated. She grabbed the wrong folders. Of course she won’t find the pretty stationary in her mother’s music— Julie freezes. Is that what Luke’s been reading? Her mother’s records? Her heart misses a beat just as Luke says, “Oh.”

Julie’s insides turn to ice. She tries to focus on her breathing. In and out. In and out.

Then, “Your mom was really talented.”

Slowly, Julie turns to him. The look on her face must be utterly frightening because Luke shrinks. For once, he looks extremely guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a rush, “I know I shouldn’t have … boundaries.”

To her own surprise, Julie finds herself shaking her head. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.” She really isn’t. “And you’re right. She was.” Her mom’s music was special. Is special. That has never changed. Julie hesitates. “Can you … can you show me what you found?”

Luke nods frantically and scuttles away so that Julie can get a better look at the sheet music.

She recognizes her mom’s elegant handwriting right away. She had expected that the sight would be like a stab into her heart. But it isn’t. It’s familiar. It’s comforting.

Julie reaches out and fondly lets her finger glide over the score. It’s written for the piano. Of course, it is. Her eyes snap to the title.

“Wake Up,” Julie reads out, and something inside her chest stirs. Flutters. Like the strong beating wings of a caged bird that had been timid for so long. The cage is becoming unlocked, the door slowly creeping open.

This isn’t a song her mother wrote for a client. Or a student. Julie can feel it. This is personal. This is a message. From her mother.

Her eyes scan the lyrics, hungrily devouring every word her mother wrote. The caged bird grows more and more erratic.

Then she reaches the last page, and her eyes find a message in her mom’s cursive writing at the bottom of it.

Julie,
You can do it.
Love, Mom

Julie sniffles. The words blur as tears spring to her eyes. Then, a sob wrecks her body.

She can hear Luke shifting behind her. He’s gone quiet. But Julie imagines him racking his brains to find a way to console her. That, or he really, really wants to flee the scene because he can’t handle it when people cry.

Either way, there’s nothing he can do. This isn’t his fight. It’s Julie’s. And it is hers alone.

Sniffling, she blinks away her tears until her mother’s words become clear again. Fondly, Julie lets the pads of her fingers glide over the letters, tracing them.

Julie, you can do it.

Can she?

For so long, she thought she couldn’t. But what if she had been wrong. What if …

She won’t find out without trying.

Julie jerks her hand away, spins on her heels, and marches off, not uttering a single word as she disappears into her bedroom. She can still feel Luke’s gaze on her. He’s watching her with rapt attention. He doesn’t follow her, though. But Julie pictures him craning his neck to get a glimpse of what she’s doing.

A few moments later, Julie emerges, hauling her electronic keyboard down the hallway. Luke’s breath catches (like always, absurd), and his eyes widen, alight with surprise and excitement. And maybe a pinch of offense because she hid the keyboard from him. It vanishes quickly.

It takes Julie a moment to set up her keyboard. Under the bed, it has gathered an impressive and persistent layer of dust, and she spends two minutes untangling the power cable.

She feels guilty. She should have taken better care.

Eventually, her keyboard is plugged in and set up next to her computer on her desk. It’s not ideal. She’d left the stand and the foldable bench in the garage, thinking she wouldn’t need them anymore. Maybe she could grab them tomorrow. She could swing by before work, smuggling it out while her dad scorches his pancakes. If she moves the couch, she can squeeze it into the niche between the windows and …

… and she’s getting ahead of herself.

Taking a deep breath, Julie gathers the papers. Gently, she cradles them in her hands, pretending she can sense her mom’s aura. In her fantasy, they emit a soft, golden glow – like a halo. She lines them up on the sheet stand, one by one, then takes her seat. Her knees feel wobbly, like Jell-O, as she sits on the edge of her desk chair.

She hasn’t played in so long. Her heart hammers in her chest. Her fingers already feel stiff and sweaty as she navigates through the menu to select the right mode. Julie is convinced her mom wrote the song with their grand piano in mind, so she chooses the closest equivalent. It’s not exactly the same. But it’ll do. It has to. Of course, she could take her car and drive over. Her family home isn’t that far away. But she can’t take Luke along. So she perishes the idea.

Nervous, Julie places her hands on the keys. There’s no sudden surge of magic rushing through her veins. But there’s no punishing jolt, either. That’s a good thing, right?

But she still feels unsure. What if this turns out to be a total disaster? Would this mean she failed her mom? She glances at Luke. There’s not even a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“You got this!” He’s dead serious.

She wishes she had his confidence. She wishes she had her mom’s confidence. But she thinks they’re both right.

Julie takes one last deep breath, checks the sheets again, and presses the first key. The note fills the room. And not just the room. It reverberates deep inside of her, making the creature inside her chest flap its wings excitedly.  

It’s a good feeling. So, Julie keeps going. Her fingers fly over the key, following the melody.

The music, it’s like sunshine. It spreads through her. Floods her. Reaches the shadowy, cold corners of her soul, banishes the darkness, and fills the void with warmth. She can feel it from her toes to the tips of her fingers. It feels like home. It feels like her mother’s embrace.

It’s the final shove she needs. Licking her lips, she focuses on the lyrics, opens her mouth, and sings. It’s liberating.

The trapped creature bursts its shackles, spreads its enormous wings, and launches off into the sky. Julie wishes she could close her eyes and just savor this moment of happiness and freedom. But she needs to play. She needs to sing.

However, she does glimpse Luke. She’s desperate to gauge his reaction. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him. He’s staring at her. Jaw slack, mouth agape. He looks like he’s having some sort of cosmic revelation. A small smile slips on her lips. It is a satisfying sight.

She continues to play. With each sung note, with each played chord, she feels more and more like herself again. Like the missing puzzle piece has finally slotted in its place. The bird is out, free.

When she finishes, tears are leaking from her eyes again, streaming down her face. They’re tears of sadness. Tears of happiness. Exhilaration mingled with exhaustion. She wants to slump over and wallow. She wants to jump on the couch and celebrate. She does neither. She gathers the sheet music and hugs them close to her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She’s sure her mom knows. She always does.

Then, after a few heartbeats, she swivels around, finally ready to face Luke’s judgment. She’s anxious but hopeful. He hasn’t said a word since she started to play. Julie likes the idea of having stunned him into silence. It’s unlikely. But it’s a fun thought that makes her inexplicably giddy.

Beaming, she looks up to him. “So what do you …”

She trails off. Luke’s gone. Julie blinks at the empty room.

“Luke?”

Silence.

Puzzled, Julie slides off her chair. Her smile has slipped off her face. She peers into the kitchen. “Luke?”

Again, nothing.

Her heart misses a beat, and she swallows thickly, her throat congested with emotions. Disappointment at first, then anger.

“You can just tell me if I suck,” she snaps. She’d understand. She hadn’t played in months. Of course she’s rusty. But that’s no reason to run out on her. Except, that doesn’t make any sense, does it? Luke wouldn’t do that. Even if she sucked, he’d tell her. But given the look on his face when she sang… plus, he can’t leave.

Maybe he got sucked into the refrigerator again. The floorboards creak as she steps close to the fridge. She knocks before she opens the door.

“Luke?”

No Luke. Just the leftovers from yesterday. She shuts the door again, making the glass bottles in the door clunk. Next, Julie checks the bathroom. And her bedroom – even though she asked Luke to stay out of it and he promised. There’s no sign of him.

Julie’s confidence and joy have now wholly evaporated. Dread pools in the pit of her stomach. She plops down on her couch. Suddenly, she feels sick. This isn’t right. Luke is tethered to this place. He shouldn’t disappear. But it did happen before. Just once. The first time Flynn was around to help her set up her stuff. Luke swears he hadn’t left the place. But when Julie wanted to check on him in the fridge, he was gone.

Luke is always in the fridge. When he tumbles through the window, he reappears in the fridge. When he falls over the banister of the fire escape, he reappears in the fridge. Even when he just does so much as poke his head out of the door, he reappears in the fridge.

He should be there. He should be in her fridge.

Julie frowns. Something in the back of her brain stirs. A thought. She can feel it. It’s close. But she can’t grasp it. It’s just out of her reach – like the tomato sauce on the upper shelf. Even on her toes, her fingertips barely catch it.

The fridge. Her fridge.

It’s bizarre, isn’t it? It’s her fridge. Not Luke’s. The kitchen didn’t come with a refrigerator. She bought it after she signed the lease. So why is Luke so attracted to it? He has no emotional tie to it. And yet he’s drawn to it like a moth to the fire.

With a start, Julie jerks her head up, staring at the fridge.

Like a moth to the fire. Or like a ghost to his source.

Luke isn’t tied to the fridge. But what if the object he’s tied to is close by?

Julie rises to her feet. Slowly, she edges closer, never leaving the fridge and, furthermore, its surroundings out of sight.

The guys said they searched the entire apartment for Luke’s journal. Julie and Luke did, too. They checked the counter and cupboards. But it never occurred to them to scour the area around the fridge.

Her first instinct is the ceiling. But there’s no place to hide a journal. Maybe behind the fridge. But unless Luke had chosen a fundamentally different layout, he would have had to move the refrigerator to get to the wall. Which leaves …

Her eyes snap to the floor. The floorboards have been creaking ever since. Julie blamed the building’s age and low maintenance. She did the same with the flickering lights. But that had proven to be a fallacy. It wasn’t due to some faulty wiring. It was Luke’s doing.

In the kitchen, she crouches down, inspecting the hardwood floor. The wood is marred with scratches. Julie lets her finger trail along the scars. On the day she met Luke, she dropped a jar. But the pattern doesn’t match. These markings look like somebody wedged something sharp purposefully in the crack between two boards. Multiple times, by the looks of it.

Julie’s heart thuds against her ribcage.

“Luke,” she tries again.

Still no response.

She inspects the scarred wood one last time. Then she gets up, pulls a drawer open to get a knife, and kneels down again. It’s just a hunch. She isn’t going to risk a broken finger or a splinter.

Carefully, Julie slides the knife under the wood and pries it open. It’s almost effortless. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but it shouldn’t be that easy to jimmy up a floorboard, right? When it’s loose enough, Julie lifts it – just enough to slip her hand through the crack. Nervous, she reaches inside and gropes around. Her fingers nudge something, and Julie gasps. It feels like a thin book. Or a journal.

Her heartbeat accelerates. With more force than necessary, she frees the object from its hiding place.

Luke’s journal looks exactly how Bobby described it: black, battered but in a way that suggests frequent use rather than neglect, and decorated with stickers. Bands. Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Green Day, Red Hot Chili Peppers. A smile forms on her lips. Yeah, that fits.

Julie lets her fingers run across the cover. Nine months in a damp, dark place didn’t do the journal any favors. The stickers have begun to peel off, and the sheets have become warped. And it’s slightly sticky – most likely from the jam she spilled over the floor a few months ago. She flips it over, her index finger caressing the spine. It’s cracked. Of course, it is.

Julie turns it again, ready to open it. She knows Luke is crazy talented. She can’t wait to get a sneak peek at his songs. They must be truly amazing, and—

Julie freezes, and the journal almost slips through her fingers. This isn’t right.

First, she can’t open it. It’s Luke’s journal. It’s his property. Even though her skin tickles with curiosity and her fingers itch longingly, she cannot do this.

Second, Luke asked her not to search for her journal. She promised him. And yet here she is, cradling it in her hands.

She has broken her promise. She has violated his trust.

With bated breath, Julie looks around, fearful that Luke would suddenly jump around a corner, pointing an accusing finger at her because he knew she wasn’t to be trusted. But there’s still no sign of Luke.

Julie looks down at the songbook in her hands, her thumb stroking across the cover.

“Where are you?”

The journal doesn’t answer. Of course not. It’s a book. And Julie should really put it back where she found it. She bends down to slide it back through the crack but ultimately stops.

It shouldn’t be down there. It doesn’t deserve to be in a moldy, rotting nook under the floor. It deserves to be free. Like Luke.

Julie straightens herself. Pressing Luke’s treasured journal against her chest, she heads straight to her bedroom. She only hesitates in the doorway for a split second before heading to her commode, where her dreambox is stored. Gently, she tucks it between the wall and the crest, shielding it from sight.

For now, it is safe. It can stay here …

Until Luke is ready to have it back.

Until he’s ready to cross over.

Her heart grows heavy at the thought. Eventually, Luke will leave.

Chapter Text

September 2002

“What’s lost can be found. It’s obvious.”

The last note rings out, and Julie looks at Luke, awaiting judgment. Her fingers still rest on the keys of her keyboard. They’re itching to play again. Funny how fast things have changed.

It’s not even been a week since her mother’s song has rekindled that fire.

She looks at Luke expectantly, fingers twitching in her lap.

As usual, Luke’s sitting on the counter, legs swinging with great gusto. He’s beaming at her, and his eyes are alight with a burning intensity. “Dude, your piano playing?!” he exclaims, arms flailing as he tries to put his excitement into words. The result is somewhat mixed. “It’s like—” He shakes his head in disbelief and amazement. “And your voice?! You’re a human wrecking ball!”

At his words, she smiles bashfully, and a blush blooms on her cheeks. It’s not the first time he’s complimented her like this. She should be used to it by now. But the thing about Luke’s praise is that it’s always genuine. Luke doesn’t sugarcoat. Luke doesn’t placate. He’s always running full-charge ahead.

Nervous, Julie tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

“But?” she asks because there’s always a But.

Luke’s smile falters. A pensive expression enters his face. “Your voice …” He tilts his head back, frowning at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Julie’s heart sinks. “Yeah?”

Luke glances at her. Something undefinable flickers in his eyes. Then he shakes himself like a wet dog. “More instruments,” he says simply. “The song needs more instruments.”

Julie nods. She’s expected as much. “Guitar.”

“Yup,” Luke chirps cheerfully, “And drums.”

Of course. “And a …”

“… bass!”

“A whole band,” Julie concludes. That’s what she needs. A band. There’s a band – well, a former band that she could ask for suggestions. Alex would surely offer some advice. And no doubt Reggie would improvise a bassline. And Bobby … truth be told, Julie doesn’t know much about Bobby. But Luke mentioned they learned to play the guitar together. Maybe he’d be willing to share some thoughts, too. Though Julie knows who she’d rather hear play.

She shakes her head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Luke groans and flops back, lying on the counter, legs dangling in the air. “I wish I had my guitars.”

Yeah, Julie wishes that, too. Sighing, she glances at the clock hanging on the wall by the couch.

She gasps. “Oh no, I’m late.”

Panicking, she leaps to her feet and bolts for her bedroom. There, she yanks open a drawer of her dresser, grabbing a different bra and top. She throws them on her bed, grabs the hem of her t-shirt, and lifts it over her head.

“Late for what?” she hears Luke’s curious voice from the doorway. He must have rushed after her.

Julie shrieks and spins around, already half-undressed.

There he is, standing in the doorway, rooted to the spot as he realizes what he has walked into. His eyes bug, and his face turns scarlet. It’s almost comical. Almost.

“Luke!” Julie admonishes.

Luke makes a strangled noise and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Sorry,” he yelps, scrambling away.

Only when Julie is certain he’s back in the hallway, she continues to wiggle out of her clothes.

“It’s almost noon,” she says over her shoulder.

“So?”

“Nick asked to meet at 1.”

“Oh,” Luke says. His voice sounds hollow. “Your date with Nick. I forgot.”

“Same.” Stupid, reawakened music obsession. Totally threw her off her schedule. She adjusts the new top, then opens her dresser. She opens her dresser and groans. She has way too many dresses. It takes her a hot second before she picks a light blue summer dress. It’s September. It’s still warm outside.

Outside, she almost crashes into Luke. His face is still slightly red.

“I’m sorry,” he says without preamble. “I know I’m not supposed to follow you in there. I don’t know why I did it.” Real guilt shines in his eyes. His apology is genuine.

“It’s alright.” Julie sighs. It was an accident. There’s no point in being mad. “Just stay away from my bedroom, okay.”

Luke nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Julie knows he means it. But she can’t help but think about his journal, which she stashed behind her Dreambox. Maybe it draws him into the room. Like a moth to the fire. It probably wasn’t wise hiding it there. She needs to find a better place.

“You look great, by the way.”

Oh.

Luke’s statement was totally out of nowhere.

It’s kinda strange to receive praise from Luke that doesn’t refer to her music skills. He’s never complimented her on her outfits before.

“Thank you,” she says gratefully.

Luke nods but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he’s biting his lip. His right hand flies to his neck, rubbing it bashfully. A blush blossoms on his cheeks, and Julie feels her own face growing warm at the sight.

“I, uh, need to go …” Awkward, she gestures to the bathroom door.

“Yeah, of course.” Luke hurries to step aside, and Julie practically dives into her bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

Julie’s heart is beating faster than usual. But she blames her hurried escape for it. And yeah, she knows she’s fooling herself.

But what else is she supposed to do? Luke’s a ghost. And she’s about to go on a date with Nick.

On second thought, she isn’t sure what to expect from this date. Is it even a real date? They didn’t talk much about it. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of invitation. Maybe it’s just a celebratory event? They survived two months on the job. And the song they wrote got greenlit for pre-production.

“Julie …” Luke’s voice is muffled by the door. But there’s an undertone of unease to it. Julie doesn’t know how to interpret it.

“Yeah?” she asks. Her heart rate is suddenly picking up speed again. Why?

“Would you …” It’s nervousness. His voice is laced with nervousness. “I mean, if I weren’t dead, would you go on a …” He groans, audibly frustrated. Luke’s usually great with words. But right now, he doesn’t know how to phrase his question.

But Julie can piece it together anyway. Her heart beats faster. Would she?

She takes too long. Her silence must answer for her. After a moment of contemplation, Luke says, “Never mind.” And then there’s nothing but silence from the other side of the door.

When Julie exits the bathroom again, she finds Luke still lurking in the hallway, his cheerful attitude from earlier completely gone. He looks sullen.

“Julie,” he says again, and this time Julie’s prepared. She’ll answer his question even if he doesn’t manage to put it into words. “Do you think I could leave this place if we found the notebook?”

Oh. That’s not the question she expected. Julie stiffens.

“I … I don’t know,” she stutters. Her mouth suddenly feels dry. “It’s possible. Maybe we can try if we ever find it.”

Luke nods. “Yeah, we could.”

There’s more he wants to say. But Julie’s not sure he wants to hear it. Just thinking about the possibility lets her heart flutter in her chest. She just can’t do it.

So, she pushes past him, heading straight for the living room area. Maybe she can plop down on the couch for a bit to collect her thoughts.

Except, when she gets there, the couch is already occupied. A hamster is sniffing curiously at her throw pillows, his tiny claws digging into the black leather.

Julie blinks at the little intruder. She has a good guess who he is. A while ago, Reggie showed her pictures of his emotional support hamster.

“Is this …”

“Luke,” Luke (the ghost) confirms. He’s hovering behind her, glaring at the hamster as if his presence is mortally offending him. Weirdly, the hamster seems to stare back. His big, dark eyes bore into Luke’s.

“Can he see you?” Julie asks curiously.

“I’m not sure,” Luke admits. “But he’s pure evil, so watch out.” His expression darkens. “He has this look in his eyes – like he’s staring right into my soul.”

“There isn’t much else left of you,” Julie mutters.

“Hey!”

Julie ignores his protest. On tiptoes, she carefully approaches him. She doesn’t want to alert the little guy. He must have escaped. Reggie mentioned he did this a lot. He must be worried.

Thankfully, the hamster doesn’t seem to be frightened by her. She crouches down next to the couch and reaches out to let him sniff her finger. She feels his whispers brush against her skin. It takes a lot not to coo at him. He’s so precious. And with that tuft of dark brown fur on the top of his head, he does look a bit like Luke.

Julie slips her left hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“I see the resemblance.”

Luke glowers at her. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

End of discussion.

Julie brings her hands forward and gently cups him. Again, Hamster-Luke seems more curious than scared. His little paws press into her palm while he explores her hands. Carefully, Julie raises him to eye level.

“How’d you get in here?”

“Oh, he does that a lot,” Luke laments. “Mostly when Reggie is working on his Country music. Can’t blame him for trying to get away from that.”

“Well, I better bring you home, little guy. Your daddy must be worried.”

Behind her, ghost Luke groans. “Please don’t say it like that!”

Julie doesn’t pay attention to him or his antics decisively. Gently, she nudges the hamster to move onto her left hand. Then, using her right hand to protect him from falling, she straightens herself again. Her thumb ruffles his fur. It’s so soft. She squeals, “Hey, there, little Luke.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Luke Junior?”

“Julie, please.”

There’s real pain in his voice. And another emotion crosses Luke’s face. But it passes too quickly for Julie to make any rhyme to it.

“I’m sorry,” she says, still patting the hamster. “I’ll bring him over to Reggie’s real quick.”

“Sure,” Luke sighs.

“I’ll be right back.”

*

Reggie lives across the hall. She knocks on his door. It swings open not even three seconds later, revealing a disheveled-looking Reggie. He seems surprised by her appearance.

“Hi,” he says, slightly out of breath.

“I think you lost someone,” Julie says with a sly smile, moving her hand aside to unveil her finding.

Reggie’s face brightens.

“Luke!” he exclaims. Eagerly, he holds out his hands, and Julie nudges Luke over. He doesn’t seem very thrilled to be back in the care of his owner.

“Don’t run away like this. You’re really just as bad as your namesake,” Reggie lectures Hamster-Luke before squishing him against his cheek. To Julie, he says, “Thanks for bringing him over.”

“No problem. I found him on the couch and—”

“Oh, great, there he is,” says another voice, and Alex’s head pokes around the corner. “Oh,” he says when he sees her. He never quite meets her eye when speaking to her. But he’s smiling shyly. “Hi, Julie.”

He turns to Reggie, “Does this mean we can leave now? We’re already running late.”

“Yeah, just one sec. I need to get his travel cage.”

“Reg, you cannot take him along. We’re going to get kicked out again.”

“But it’s Luke’s birthday!”

What?!

Julie jerks her head around for confirmation from Luke. But the door to her apartment had fallen shut. When she turns her head again, Reggie has already disappeared into his apartment. Alex is still there, though, looking exasperated.

“He’s not talking about his hamster’s birthday, is he?”

Alex shakes his head. “No. It’s our friend’s birthday. The one who had the accident. We’re on our way to visit him.”

Oh. That makes sense. They’re about to visit his grave. They used to do the same after her grandfather passed away. Each year, on his birthday, they go to his grave to honor him and celebrate his birthday. It’s a family tradition. Next year, they’re gonna do it for her mom too. The thought makes Julie sick.

“We were supposed to leave an hour ago,” Alex continues. “Unfortunately, Reggie insists on bringing that stupid hamster along. So we spent all morning searching for that thing.” He sighs, shaking his head again. “First Bobby bails on us, and now this. It’s just not our day.”

Julie gasps. “Bobby bailed on you?”

“Not his fault. Covington is giving him a hard time. He’s trying to cover for Luke. But it’s not the same. All his life, Luke breathed music.” Alex stops. He looks at her shrewdly. He hums.

“What?” Julie asked. She can’t shake the feeling of being judged.

“It’s weird,” Alex says, a thoughtful, almost melancholy expression entering his face. “But you kinda remind me of him. Of Luke.”

“How so?”

Alex shrugs. “The song you wrote for this girl group. When he began to record the demo, it kinda felt familiar. Like a deja vu.”

Julie’s breath catches in her throat. She had feared this would happen. Despite the entirely different music genres, Alex has noted some similarities.

“And then we heard you play this morning,” Alex continues. “And sing.”

“Oh.” A blush blooms on Julie’s face. Suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious, she tugs at a stray curl. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all,” Alex assures. “It sounded great.” A fond smile plays on his lips. “Almost made me head downstairs to come up with the drum part for it.”

“Really?” Julie stares at him in disbelief.

Alex chuckles. “Sure. If you ever want some input, just give me a heads-up. I’d love to help. And I’m sure the rest of us would be down for it too.” He shakes his head again. “Must have been fate that you moved into Luke’s apartment.”

“Fate,” Julie repeats. “Yeah, maybe.” Or bad luck. “Your friend sounds like an amazing person. I wish I could have met him.”

“Maybe you can.” Reggie appears out of nowhere. His hair is combed back into his usual pompadour, and he’s carrying a transport cage in his hand. Inside, Luke is hiding in a brightly colored plastic tube, probably plotting his next escape. “Why don’t you come along?”

What?! Julie stares at Reggie, utterly flabbergasted.

“Reg,” Alex attempts to interrupt him. His voice sounds both apologetic and doubtful.

But Reggie discards his warning deliberately. “You’re an incredibly talented musician, Julie. Luke would love to hang out with you.” He looks at Julie expectantly. His eyes are wide and honest.

“I, uh, …”

Julie doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know what to do. She hasn’t set foot in a graveyard since her mother’s funeral. And she isn’t keen on doing so again.

On the other hand, she’s curious. She wants to learn more about Luke – even if it’s just the location of his grave. She could go there on her own. To pay her respects. Maybe even show it to him when he’s ready. And so she can mourn him after he’s moved on.   

Then again, is it really her place to be there? Just the idea of being there with his friends and family makes her feel like an intruder.

Not to mention.

“I’d love to but I …”

“But you already have a date,” Alex concludes. He’s regarding her studiously, taking note of her outfit.

“I’m supposed to meet up with Nick.”

“Oh.” Reggie’s shoulders slump. Disappointed, he hangs his head.

It’s the crestfallen look on his face that seals the deal.

“But I’m already late for that,” Julie says quickly. “So if it is really okay for you guys …”

“Positive,” affirms Reggie, already beaming at her again. His swift mood changes are uncanny. Julie glances at Alex. Even he manages a weak smile.

“Okay,” she says, “Okay. Just let me call Nick. I’m sure he’ll understand.” She hopes, at least.

“You can use my cell,” Reggie offers. “I have his number.”

Oh.

“Alright. Let me just grab my purse.”

It’s the best excuse she can come up with. She can’t leave without informing the resident ghost about the change of plans. She’s already lying to him about the journal. He does deserve the truth about this one.

When she opens the door, there’s no sign of Luke.

Nervous, Julie cast a fleeting glance over her shoulder, worried Alex and Reggie might be listening in. But Alex’s fumbling with Reggie’s keys as he locks the door, and Reggie’s doting on his hamster.

“Luke,” Julie hisses in a low voice. No response.

Her eyes dart to the refrigerator. She wants to check on him. But she can hear the click of a lock, followed by jingling keys. She doesn’t have time.

So she grabs her purse from a side table and closes the door.

*

Five minutes later, they’re riding up Main Street, heading north. Alex’s driving. Reggie is in the passenger seat. Initially, he was supposed to give directions. But after he suggested the Freeway and they got stuck in Sunday traffic for 15 minutes, Alex prohibited him from giving any more driving advice. So now, he’s their human entertainment system, filling Alex’s car with constant, happy chatter and ridiculous anecdotes.

“We almost died from rancid hotdogs when we were seventeen.”

Alex scoffs. “No, I almost died,” he corrects, catching Julie’s eye in the rearview mirror. She’s in the backseat, hands steadying Luke’s transport cage on her lap. “I was throwing up for three days. I thought I was gonna die. But those two idiots …” He inclines his head toward Reggie. “… had nothing. Zilch. Nada. The next day, while I was hugging the toilet, those idiots went back to get another streetdog.”

“Not true,” Reggie screeches. “Okay, true, we did go back. But only because my farts were smelling weird. It concerned me.”

“You were concerned about your farts, but not about me dying in the bathroom?!” Alex bellows out, hands gripping the wheel more tightly.

“Yeah,” Reggie says simply. He twists in his seat, addressing Julie. “It wasn’t the hotdogs, by the way.” He winks at her, and Julie bursts into giggles.

“Great, so I got food poisoning. And you didn’t even get flatulence.” He looks like he wants to throw up his hands. But thankfully, he keeps them on the wheel and just shakes his head. “We had many close calls,” he admits, not without a smile on his lips. “Reggie almost electrocuted himself.”

“No!”

“Yup,” Reggie says cheerfully. “I was fixing my amp in the rain.”

“As teenagers, we didn’t have any survival instincts,” Alex says wistfully. “I’m honestly surprised we made it so far.”

Reggie pumps a fist triumphantly in the air. “Still alive and kicking.”

Julie’s giggle transforms into a full-belly laugh. Bending over with laughter, she’s clutching onto Luke’s cage.

She likes them. A lot. Like Luke, they’re disarming. And like Luke, they make her feel at ease. They make her forget her sorrows.

She’s also enjoying their stories. Through them, Luke feels so real. So alive. He’s not just a ghost. Not just a memory. He used to be a real person.

Unfortunately, they also made her lose her sense of direction.

Julie peers out of the window and sucks in a sharp breath. They’re already traversing the outskirts of Chinatown. Alex keeps following Main Street, veering the car over a bridge that crosses the Los Angeles River.

Horror grips Julie’s heart. Suddenly, she’s overcome by a terrible sense of foreboding.

“Guys,” she begins. She’s desperately trying to sound casual. But her voice trembles. “Where exactly are we going?” She tries to sound casual. But she can hear the strain in her voice.

“LAC+USC,” Alex replies just as they turn right on Griffin Avenue.

Julie feels as if she’s been punched in the stomach.

The LAC+USC – the Los Angeles County and USC Medical Center – is a hospital located in Boyle Heights. It’s not far from Los Feliz, where Julie grew up.

A hospital.

People die in hospitals. But dead people don’t stay there.

A few minutes later, they pull into a parking lot, and Julie knows. They’re not in front of a graveyard. Instead, they’re parked in front of a 20-story art-deco building. Julie recognizes the building. It’s the building from the photo on Reggie’s camera.

There’s a large construction site right next to it. After the 1994 Northridge earthquake, the government signed the California Hospital Seismic Safety Law, thus making it no longer compliant with earthquake and fire safety codes. So they’re building a brand-new building right next to the old building from 1933. Julie really hopes they won’t tear down the old building. It’s pretty.

Julie knows all of that because she’d spent quite some time reading the informational brochures laid out in the waiting rooms, waiting for her mother to finish treatment.

The LAC+USC is the hospital where her mother received her treatment.

It’s the hospital where her mom died.

And, according to Reggie, it is also one of two Level I trauma centers in LA. That is incredibly important to know. And extremely helpful. For example, when you suffer from a severe head injury after falling down the stairs in your apartment building.

Julie’s heart thuds violently in her chest. She struggles to keep hold of the hamster cage. Her hands are drenched with sweat.

The truth is there. It’s right there in front of her eyes. But Julie refuses to see it. She refuses to even think about it. She can’t.

Luke’s a ghost. He’s dead. Dead. Six feet under, he’s said it himself.

There’s no other possibility.

Luke’s dead. And this is a nightmare.

“You coming?” Reggie asks, startling her from her thoughts. He’s opened the car door, waiting for her to exit.

Julie nods mechanically and swings her legs around. Her feet touch the tarmac. But it doesn’t ground her. Her thoughts are running a million miles an hour.

She’s still in charge of Luke. Pressing his cage against his chest, she wills herself out of the car. Across the parking lot. Up the steps leading to the broad entrance door. All the while, she’s clinging onto Luke like she’s holding onto a lifeline.

She can see the benefits of an emotional support hamster.

They stop in front of the wooden doors. At this point, Julie’s entire body is shaking.

She doesn’t even register Alex leaning into her space until she hears his voice in her ear.

“Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Julie wants to laugh. Under different circumstances, Julie would have done so. The situation is too bizarre.

“I just didn’t expect to be here again.” Not so soon.

“Bad memories?” Reggie asks sympathetically.

Julie nods. “My mom died here.”

She shouldn’t have said it. Instantly, horror dawns on Reggie and Alex’s faces. They exchange mortified looks.

After a moment of prolonged silence, Reggie says, “We’re sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, we didn’t know,” Alex adds. Their eyes are filled with warmth and compassion. “We wouldn’t have asked you to come along if we had known. We’re so sorry.”

Reggie nods vigorously. “Yeah. You don’t have to come with us.”

“I can drive you back home,” Alex offers.

Julie doesn’t even think twice about it. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s alright.” Her own determination scares her a bit. But Julie needs to know. She needs confirmation.

She attempts to hand Luke’s cage over to Reggie. But he shakes his head. “Can you watch him a little longer?” he asks, smiling. “I think he likes you.” In a whisper, he adds, “It helps.”

Julie gazes down at Luke the hamster. Despite her rough treatment of his cage, he isn’t hiding in his tubes anymore. He’s staring at her with big, dark eyes. She feels calmer in an instant. Like somebody draped a warm, cozy blanket around her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

Holding onto Luke, she braces herself. Then she follows them inside.  

It happens the moment she steps into the foyer.

It’s not just a turmoil of emotion and memories that crashes down on her. It’s a hurricane that threatens to sweep her away.

It’s the sight of flower bouquets, ‘Get well soon’ gift baskets, and ‘It’s a girl’ balloons.

It’s the smell. It’s the penetrant combination of bleach, sanitizer, citrus-scented cleaning solution, and gravy cafeteria food. 

It’s the sound. Shoes squelching on the moped floor. Lost visitors asking for directions. The laughter of kids running around, playing together. The weeping of relatives mourning the loss of a loved person.

All these impressions are invading her senses.

Julie feels angry. She feels hopeless. Heartbroken. There’s nothing she can do. Her mother is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead like Luke is supposed to be dead.

“We need to go to the third floor,” Alex explains.

His voice brings her back. Julie squeezes her eyes shut and concentrates on her breathing. In and out. In and out.

Calmer, she asks, “What’s there?”

“Trauma ICU.”

Julie nods.

That’s good. Her mother had been in a different ward.

Trailing behind the guys, they weave through the busy foyer and to a row of elevators. Silently, they cram into one.

A few seconds later, the elevator doors glide open with a satisfying ding, and they emerge on a windowless corridor. It’s quiet up here. A few inpatients use the long hall ahead to stretch their legs. A little workout up and down the hallway before heading back to their rooms.

They turn left and follow the corridor. Doors branch off of either side. Toilets, break rooms, and cabinets. At the end of the hallway, a set of glass doors marks the entrance to the ICU. The glass panes are frosted. It’s impossible to see more than blurry silhouettes. 

There’s no way to open the door from the outside without a keycard. Instead, there’s a bell next to the door. Alex presses it, and they get buzzed inside a few seconds later. Inside, a female nurse is already awaiting them. She greets them with a sympathetic smile. They must be regular visitors. 

“Hey, Jenn,” Alex says. “How’s it going?”

Jenn is a stocky, middle-aged woman with pale blue eyes and freckles on her nose. She’s wearing pink scrubs that clash horribly with her red hair.

“Good,” she says. “It’s quiet today. Though, your friend gave us some trouble this morning.”

“But we can visit him?”

She nods, and Alex lets out a relieved sigh. Reggie is strangely quiet and still. His feet are turned inward, and his eyes remain trained on the linoleum floor.

“Wash your hands and wait outside his room. I’ll get you some shoe covers and gowns.”

But despite her words, Jenn doesn’t move. Her eyes have spotted Julie. She gives Julie a curious look. Feeling self-conscious, Julie ducks her head. It’s a good thing Alex is so tall. It’s easy to hide behind him.

“Thanks, Jenn.”

Reluctantly, Jenn tears her eyes away from Julie. She nods and ambles away. But halfway down the corridor, she pauses. Over her shoulder, she says, “Oh, his parents are already in there.”

Julie stiffens. Luke’s parents. She remembers the way Luke spoke about them.

But neither Alex nor Reggie appears to be disturbed by the news. Without a word, they head for the men’s bathroom. Julie disappears into the women’s bathroom. There, she puts Luke’s cage on a tiled ledge, then grips the porcelain sink with both hands. The ceramic feels cold against her sweaty palms.

Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply through her nose. She holds her breath for a few seconds, then, even slower, releases it again. She repeats the process a few more times. It’s working. Somewhat.

Feeling calmer, she turns on the faucets. The cold water flows over her arms, rinsing them and her mind until her thoughts aren’t spiraling anymore. Much better.

Then she splashes some water into her face for good measure.

Back outside, Alex and Reggie are waiting in front of a door.

Julie falters for a moment, her heart thumping in her chest. Then, very slowly, she edges closer. And closer. And closer.

The door is closed, and they’ve been instructed to wait outside. Nevertheless, there’s a window to look inside the room. But Julie doesn’t dare.

Instead, she checks the sign next to the door, stating the room number and the patients’ name. Lucas Patterson. When the guys had invited her to tag along, she expected to learn Luke’s full name by finding it engraved on a headstone. Not by reading it on a sign in a hospital.

Despite the stress this unexpected turn of events has been causing, she prefers this way.

Luke’s alive. But Julie doesn’t know what his condition is. The nurse called him stable. But that’s incredibly vague. Julie is rational. Luke sustained an appalling head injury. He’s been hospitalized for months. Those aren’t good signs. Not to mention that his ghost is hanging out in her apartment.

How can he even be a ghost when he’s still alive? And why has he never mentioned it? Why did he let her assume that he was dead?

Nervous, Julie peeks through the window. Her heart is hammering in her throat.

The first thing she spies is the patient monitor. Various colored lines and numbers glow on the dark display. Julie’s eyes zero in on the first line, a green, primarily flat baseline with peaks in regular intervals. It’s the heart rate. He has a heartbeat. A rhythmic, strong heartbeat. Even through the closed door, Julie can hear the faint beep of the machine.

It’s the sound of the EKG that threatens to overwhelm her. She remembers it. From time to time, her mother used to be wired to such a machine to monitor her vitals. The sound has burned itself into her mind. And it’s taken a toll on her. After her mother’s death, the sound had haunted her for weeks. She’d imagined what it had sounded like when her heartbeat faded. The steady beep growing weaker and weaker until it was just one monotone, ear-piercing sound.

Julie feels the cold creeping in from the edges, clawing at her heart. Her breathing comes in short, shallow gasps.

No. Not right now. She cannot have a panic attack. She needs to know.

She’s still carrying Luke’s cage. So she hugs it like a stuffed animal. It’s not comfortable. But it helps. She focuses on the room again.

A pole stands next to the monitor. Plastic bags filled with clear solutions are fastened to it. From there, IV lines run to the patient in the hospital bed. Julie doesn’t get a look at the patient’s face. It’s shielded by a woman leaning over him. It could be Luke’s mother. But Julie can’t be sure. She doesn’t know if the person is really Luke.

Then, her eyes find the acoustic guitar leaning against the foot of the hospital bed. Oh.

Beside her, Alex confirms, “That’s Luke.”

Except, it isn’t. Because Julie has never seen Luke so still. So motionless. It’s wrong. Even death hadn’t been able to rip his energy away.

But he isn’t dead.

“How long …” Julie’s voice breaks. She takes a breath and tries again. “How long has he been like … like this?”

“He’s been in a coma for nine months.”

Coma.

Julie only has a vague idea of what it is. She just knows that he’s kinda stuck between life and death.

“What happened?”

Alex hesitates. Unsure, he glances at Reggie, who still hasn’t said a word. He’s just shuffling his feet, not meeting anyone’s eye. His bubbliness is gone. It’s disturbing.

Alex sighs, “It happened a week before Christmas. He called us up. He wanted us to meet downstairs in the laundry room. We used to rehearse there.” As he recounts the events, he begins scratching the back of his left hand. “He did this a lot. Whenever he had a new song stuck in his head, he immediately phoned us up.” A rueful smile plays on his lips. “It drove me nuts sometimes. He expected us to drop everything and rush to the studio to record the melody. Music always made him so excited. He forgot that we had lives, too.”

“That day, he sounded angry, though,” Reggie pipes up, voice cracking with emotion. There’s a haunted look in his eyes. “Really angry.”

“Yeah,” Alex admits. He stops scratching his hands, frowning. “Caleb called him to his office that day. That must have set him off.”

“Understandable,” Julie says. Alex nods.

“I was about to do groceries when he called. But he was still in the office. So I thought I’d have enough time. But when I got back, the door to the basement was already open. I rushed upstairs, put my stuff in the refrigerator, grabbed my sticks, and went downstairs again. That’s … that’s when I found him.” He pauses, taking in a few deep breaths to get past the memories. When he speaks up again, he’s scratching his hands again. “I’m not sure what happened afterward. Not until Reggie and Bobby arrived.”

Reggie nods. “We got there a few minutes later, I think. I called 911.” He’s still visibly shaken by what happened. He’s ashen-faced, and his voice is trembling. His eyes dart to his hamster in Julie’s arms. “They got there real quick. They stabilized him, put him in the ambulance, and drove him here. We weren’t allowed to go with him, though. The cops needed to question us.”

“They questioned you?”

“They questioned me,” Alex specifies.

“Why?”

“I found him. They thought I might have pushed him.” Alex shrugs, trying to be casual. But his hands are red from all the scratching and scrubbing. “I wasn’t always happy with the way Luke handled things. And I snapped at him from time to time. But I know he meant well. He wanted the band to succeed. He wanted our music to succeed. His passion just got out of hand sometimes.”

There’s more to the story.

But Jenn chooses that moment to reappear with a bag with disposable shoe covers and a stack of blue medical gowns. She’s smiling kindly. But it falters when she notices the plastic cage in Julie’s hands.

She sighs, turning to Reggie. “We’ve talked about it.”

“I know, but—”

“No pets,” she says, not unkind but strict. There’s no arguing.

Reggie’s shoulders sag.

“I know,” he says meekly. He looks at Alex for help. To his credit, Alex is trying. He’s biting his inner cheek, trying to refrain himself from saying, “I told you so.” Instead, he’s patting his shoulder consolingly. “We’ll bring him back to the car and take turns—”

“I can watch him,” Julie promptly offers, and three heads swivel around to look at her. “I can take him on a walk or something. If that’s okay with you?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. Little dude will enjoy the fresh air.”

Julie too. She isn’t ready to face Luke’s motionless, lifeless body. Not when she’s used to his soul that’s so full of zest. She needs to digest all of this new information first.

“I’ll meet you at the car in about two hours? Is that enough time for you?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Alex says. “Thanks, Julie.”

And before Julie can reply, Reggie throws his arms around her shoulders and pulls her (and Luke) into a tight hug. “Thank you, Julie.”

“No problem.” She extracts herself from his arms. “See you later.”

With one last look into the room, she turns and leaves the unit.

*

The medical center has a plaza in front of the main entrance, but Julie doesn’t go there. She’d spent too much time there when her mom had been hospitalized. So, after getting a soda from a vending machine in the foyer, she opts for a nearby park.

It’s a warm yet overcast Sunday afternoon. The park isn’t swarmed with people. But a few people enjoy a walk along the pathways, and children are clamoring on the playground.

Julie finds an unoccupied picnic table near a skatepark. A couple of skaters are hanging around there, cruising or lying on the deck, listening to music.

Sighing, she drops onto the bench and places Luke’s cage on the table. The trip to the park seems to have piqued his interest. He isn’t hiding in his tubes. Standing on his hind legs, his large eyes look up at Julie.

“You’re alive.”

Luke blinks.

“You’re alive,” Julie says again. It’s a fact. It’s the truth. Luke’s alive. She should be relieved. She should be happy. But she isn’t. Instead, rage roars inside her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tears of anger spring to her eyes. “Why did you let me think you’re dead?”

She lays her hands on either side of the cage and presses them against the plastic panes. She brings her face down to stare him right in the eye.

“Why didn’t you tell?”

Julie can see the fear entering his eyes. His tiny body freezes with terror. His little nose twitches. Then he scuttles off, vanishing into a tiny wooden hamster house.  

Julie lets go of his cage at once. She didn’t mean to lash out at him.

“I’m sorry,” she says truthfully, craning her neck to get a look inside his home. But to no avail. She sighs and leans back. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t …”

And then it occurs to her. It’s like somebody dumped a bucket of ice water over her head.

“You don’t know.” It’s that simple. Like her, Luke had simply jumped to the conclusion that he had died. “You think you’re dead.”

Luke’s shackled to his apartment. He doesn’t know what’s going on outside of the apartment. If nobody had said it out loud when they packed up his things …

“You’re alive,” she whispers again, “Luke, you’re alive.” And suddenly, the tears spilling over her face are tears of relief.

All the time, they’d thought he was dead. But he isn’t. He’s still alive. Still.

Julie isn’t naïve. She knows there’s a chance he won’t make it. But for now, he’s alive. Julie clings onto that hope.

Luke’s her friend. He deserves to live.

Then, her mind wanders back to the conversation they had earlier.

“If I weren’t dead, would you go on a …”

He never finished his question. But Julie knows.

If he wasn’t dead, would she go on a date with him?

This morning, it wasn’t even an option. A purely hypothetical question. Nothing worth pondering over. So Julie had brushed it off.

But now she wonders …

Would she?

Her heart stutters in her chest. The mere possibility makes her inexplicably giddy. She’d love to.

But first, Luke needs to learn the truth.

Julie groans, burying her face in her hands.

Somebody has to inform him. And right now, she’s his only link to the outside world. Either she keeps his condition a secret from him, or she has to tell him the truth. And he deserves the truth. It’s his life that’s hanging by a thread.

How is she supposed to break it to him?

Julie sighs and lifts her head again. Luke isn’t hiding anymore. He’s ventured outside of his cozy little home, looking curiously up at Julie.

Yeah, maybe practicing the conversation wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Julie clears her throat. “Alright… Hey, Luke, how was your day? Funny thing happened today. I ran into your friends and they invited me to come visit you. I thought we’d go to the graveyard, but then we pulled up in front of a hospital, and, plot twist, you’re not dead.”

Yeah, no, that’s not gonna work.

“What would you say if I told you that even though you’re a ghost, you’re not dead.”

Nope. Not gonna work either.

“Do you know the story of Sleeping Beauty?”

Julie groans, smacking her head against the top of the picnic table. Now, it’s getting absurd. She twists her head to look at Luke. He’s come closer. His nose is almost pressed against the plastic barrier.

“How do I explain this to you?”

Luke blinks at her.

While not unexpected, his silence isn’t exactly helpful. But he’s cute nonetheless.

Sitting up again, Julie opens the lid and plunges her hand inside. Luke scuttles over, sniffling at her fingers. His breath tickles her skin.

“Thank you for listening.” Julie places the pad of her index finger on Luke’s head and strokes him gently. Luke’s eagerly leaning into the touch.

Julie giggles. “You enjoy this, huh?”

Again, there’s no verbal reply. But Luke’s rubbing his head against her finger. So, Julie takes it as a yes.

“Yeah, you deserve it. You’re a good hamster,” she says with a smile. She moves her hand to scratch him behind the ear.

But after a few seconds, her enthusiasm falters. This reminds her of the way Luke, the real Luke, tried to tuck the loose curl of hair away. His desperation, his longing—his emotions were palpable. Julie can’t deny the heartbreak she felt when his hand had phased through her hair.  

He must miss this. Maybe not necessarily being scratched behind the ear. But after nine months of no human contact, he must be craving touch. Julie wishes she could give him what he—

Julie stills.

What if …

Luke nudges her hand with his nose, demanding her attention. Absent-mindedly, she resumes patting him.

What if …?!

Her eyes grow distant as they roam the area, desperate to find … Ah! There! Pine trees block her view. But through their crowns, Julie can see the white façade of the hospital building. It’s gleaming like a beacon.

Luke’s not a cute ghost with a perfect smile anymore. He’s been promoted. Now, he’s a cute ghost with a perfect smile and a body. A body that’s wired to machines that go beep at regular intervals. But still a body. A very real, very corporeal body.

What if …?

Chapter Text

September 2002

It’s past four when she meets up with Alex and Reggie outside the hospital.

“I’m sorry you had to wait,” Alex says as they cross the parking lot. “And I’m sorry you had to cancel your date with Nick for this.”

“Don’t worry,” Julie responds. “Nick was very understanding.” He really was. It was almost scary. Sure, he sounded bummed when she called him. But they agreed to make up for it another day. “As for little Luke here, I really enjoyed his company.” She returns him to a beaming Reggie nonetheless, who immediately cradles the box against his chest.

“Really?” Alex raises a doubtful eyebrow. Reggie, on the other hand, makes a sound of triumph.

“See! Everyone loves him.” And then he actually sticks his tongue out.

Alex scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m not sure if I should be relieved or disturbed.”

“Relieved,” Julie affirms. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind watching him again. So if you ever need a hamstersitter …”

“For real?” Reggie’s eyes dilate in surprise. “You’d do this?”

“Absolutely. Little dude and I are best friends now.”

“Thank you,” Reggie breathes, and even Alex’s features soften for a moment. Then, Reggie lifts the cage to eye level. “What do you say? Wanna spend time with Auntie Julie again?”

“Auntie Julie?” Alex mouths but refrains from making a snide remark. Surely, he wouldn’t have contained his sass if they had both been up to their usual game. But they seem to be doing better than before. They seem more relaxed. Reggie is his chatty self again. Not knowing in what condition Luke would be. Not knowing if they would be able to visit him. These things must have stressed him out.

His reinstated cheerfulness lets Julie hope. They’d spent the whole two hours with Luke. It must mean there hadn’t been any medical alerts. That’s good. Obviously, it’s not a guarantee that Luke’s okay. But Julie’s cautiously optimistic. She takes what little info she can get.

Alex extracts the key from a pocket of his jeans jacket, inserts it into the lock, and unlocks the car. Even though there has barely been any direct sunlight today, the insides are hot and stuffy. Only the air conditioning prevents them from being cooked alive like lobsters.

The Freeway is still clogged, so Alex maneuvers his sedan through the side roads again. It doesn’t take long until the first traffic light slows them down. Julie seizes the moment.

“So, what’s Lu— your friend’s prognosis?”

Alex sighs. “We … We don’t know. Luke was in a bad state when he got to the hospital. The doctors weren’t sure he was gonna make it through surgery. His skull was fractured, and he had, uh, …” He chances a sideways glance at Reggie.

“Intracranial hemorrhage,” Reggie assists. “Brain bleed.”

Oh.

Julie has had her suspicions ever since she experienced Luke’s death. But the confirmation sends an icy chill down her spine. Brain injuries aren’t good.

“I don’t remember the first night,” Alex admits. “But the following two weeks were a nightmare. His condition was critical, and we weren’t allowed to see him. It was nerve-wracking.” His hands start shaking, and Alex grips the steering wheel more tightly. “I jumped every time the phone rang.”

Julie can relate. Spending every second of every day in fear of receiving this dreaded call – it’s a life constantly on edge.

“But Luke’s a fighter,” Reggie says from the passenger seat. “He doesn’t give up. Never.”

“That’s true. Even when we begged him to, Luke never backed off.” Alex scoffs. “His stubbornness used to drive me up the walls. Now, I’m grateful for it. He’s too bullheaded to die.”

Reggie nods silently.

“His doctors explained to us how important it is to talk to him. It increases his chances of waking up. So we visit him as often as we can. Talk to him. Play music.”

“Show him pictures of Luke and his adventures,” Reggie adds.

Ah! That’s why he’s carrying that camera around.

“Yeah, I’m sure he appreciates it,” Alex snarks. Thankfully, his sarcasm is entirely lost on Reggie.

“Ha! I knew it! You love him too!” Reggie pats Alex’s shoulder until Alex snaps at him to take his paws off because he’s driving, for fuck’s sake. Reggie obeys instantly. He sighs. “I just wish we could go more often.”

“Yeah, same.” Alex meets Julie’s inquisitive glance in the rearview mirror. “Caleb has doubled our workload.”

“But why? He must know about Luke’s situation!”

Alex barks out a bitter laugh. “Of course he does.” He gives her a meaningful look. “That’s exactly why he’s doing it.” It appears to take him every ounce of self-control not to throw his hands into the air. Considering he’s still driving, Julie’s incredibly grateful he keeps them on the wheel.

Reggie twists in his seat to look directly at Julie. “He’s still mad at Luke.”

“For what?”

“For not playing along. I told you. Luke’s a fighter. He doesn’t give up. After Caleb stole one of Luke’s songs, Luke didn’t hold back. He confronted Caleb. He was furious. No idea what else he would have done if Bobby hadn’t held him back.”

Julie doubts that. They both know what Luke would have done. Luke isn’t a violent person. But his temper flares easily.

“Caleb wasn’t fazed,” Alex says. “He had the upper hand, after all. We know he threatened Luke to kick all of us out if Luke didn’t pipe down.”

“Luke wanted to protect us. We know that. But now … He won’t keep his mouth shut when he wakes up,” Reggie says confidently. “He’ll expose Caleb.”

“If,” Alex corrects him in a low voice. “If he wakes up.”

Reggie falls silent at once. With a mix of horror and anger, he gapes at Alex.

“I’m just trying to be realistic,” Alex defends himself. “It’s been nine months with barely any improvement. Reg, you know that.”

“That’s not true!” Reggie near-screeches. “Remember a week ago when he moved his fingers?! You saw it! Bobby saw it, too! Remember?!”

“Yes, but—”

But Reggie doesn’t listen. He turns to Julie one more time. “I swear. His fingers moved. And it looked like he wanted to play his guitar.” He mimics the motion with his fingers. “He wanted to play a riff.” Reggie’s eyes are wide and pleading. He desperately wants her to believe him. Julie nods mutely, and Reggie’s eyes fill with gratitude.

“I know, Reg,” Alex says softly. He hesitates for a split second, then he takes his right hand off the wheel and lays it on Reggie’s shoulder. “And believe me, I really hope you’re right. I want him to wake up just as much as you do. Even if …” He trails off, pressing his lips together as he reevaluates what he wants to say. Eventually, he sighs, dismissing the thought. “I just need to be prepared in case he doesn’t. You know that, right?”

Reggie nods. “I get it. But I just … I don’t want to think about it.” He shakes his head almost frantically. “I won’t think about it. We can’t lose Luke.”

“I know,” Alex says, clapping his shoulder, “I know.”

How Alex manages to keep an eye on the traffic while consoling Reggie will forever remain a mystery to Julie. But somehow, they make it back home in one piece. It’s truly a miracle.

Despite Alex’s attempts, Reggie’s mood hasn’t improved. Clutching Luke’s cage to his chest, he trudges away. He doesn’t even say goodbye. Concerned, Julie watches him disappear into the building.

“Don’t take it personally,” Alex says as he steps around the parked car. “Visiting Luke always agitates him. And I’m sure I didn’t help.” He sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans jacket. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It always upsets him. I just … I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.” He exhales slowly and puts his head back to look at the overcast sky. “Reggie and Luke are very similar, you know. Cheerful, driven, and easily excited. And always full of energy. You should see them on stage.”

He shakes his head, smiling fondly at the memory.

“It’s like they’re absorbing the energy. Even after a show, they’re bursting with it. I’m happy when I make it to the couch, and those two have a race up the stairs.” He sighs again, his smile fading. “I told them to be careful. I warned them. One day, they’ll stumble and break their necks.” He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths. After a few moments, he’s calmed down, and he opens them again. “And because I’m an idiot, I just reminded him Luke might not make it.”

Yeah, Julie can’t blame Reggie. She hates the thought too.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“Give him some time. I’m not the biggest fan of that hamster. But it’s really helping him to cope with the situation.”

Julie nods. “And what about you?”

Alex smiles again. But it’s twisted and mirthless. His hands flutter in his pockets.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he says, “Thanks for coming along, Julie.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

Alex nods, and they both fall silent. The following pause is a bit awkward. Neither of them moves.

“I, err, gotta go. I need to get some things from the store.” She gestures vaguely down the street. There’s a corner shop two blocks away.

Alex nods. “See you tomorrow.” He waves at her, hand still in the pocket, turns, and walks towards the entrance of the apartment building. Julie watches him. His head is ducked, his shoulders raised to his ears.

“Alex,” she says all of a sudden, making him stop. He blinks at her, confused. “It’s not your fault. You did what you could. You … It’s not your fault.”

Alex doesn’t agree. But he doesn’t disagree either. His lips twitch. “See you tomorrow, Julie.”

“Yeah,” Julie says lamely. “See you.”

And then, Alex is gone.

She could take her car. But the corner store is just a 10-minute walk away, and she doesn’t need much. Half an hour later, she trudges up the stairs, unlocks her apartment … and is suddenly greeted by music?!

She stops on the doorstep, startled.

Her stereo is on. Julie didn’t have it on when she left.

“Luke?” Julie asks as she steps inside, tossing her keys into a bowl and placing the plastic bag with groceries on the kitchen counter. “Did you turn the stereo on?”

For a long moment, she doesn’t receive an answer. It unsettles her. An image flashes through her mind. Luke in the hospital bed – a motionless, silent figure. She never saw his face. But the very idea is already haunting her. What if …?

“I think so,” Luke says, and Julie sighs in relief. Luke’s sitting on the carpet, his back leaning against the couch. He doesn’t look at her. Instead, his gaze is fixed on the ceiling. “I’m not sure how, though. Or how to turn it off again. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound particularly sorry.

Julie hums and lets it go. It’s not too bad. He didn’t manage to change the volume. Julie turns to unpack the groceries. She didn’t buy much. She lets them sit on the counter, opens a nearby cupboard, and groans. A very wise person put the plates on the upper shelf. Cursing herself, Julie goes on her toes to fish for the plate on top of the stack.

“Ha!” she exclaims in triumph as her fingers catch the plate. She sets it down next to her groceries and pulls open a drawer.

While Julie bustles around in the kitchen, she feels Luke’s eyes on her. He must be burning with curiosity. She wonders—

“How was your date?”

Ah. There it is.

“Great,” Julie says, pretending not to pay much attention to him and the conversation. But out of the corner of her eye, she watches him closely. He’s gnashing his teeth in anticipation. “We, uh, had a great time.” Great. Just like Julie’s ability to lie.

Thankfully, Luke’s too grumpy to notice.

“Great,” he mutters, putting his head back so it’s resting on the couch seat. “Just great.”

Julie pauses to study him. His hands are curled into fists. He’s frustrated. Resigned.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That it’s your birthday.”

At once, he sits up. His body stiffens. Even his breath hitches. It’s a mannerism that used to confuse her. Now, it makes sense. His body is still breathing.

Julie resumes her task. She didn’t buy much – just a pack of birthday candles and chocolate cake in a plastic container. It’s tiny. But it’ll suffice. She takes it out of the wrapping and puts it on the plate. Then, she cracks the box of candles open.

“The guys told me,” Julie explains while she puts a single candle on the cake. “Why didn’t you? And don’t tell me you forgot. When I told you about my date with Nick, you checked the calendar. You knew! So why didn’t you tell me?” Julie doesn’t miss the accusing tone in her voice and winces. She didn’t mean to berate him. But Luke flinches nonetheless, and Julie feels guilty. She just … she just doesn’t understand. Luke became so grumpy and disappointed when she told him about her plans.

Julie pauses, regarding him studiously. And suddenly, she’s struck by an idea. She blinks owlishly at the realization. Did he … did he want to spend his birthday with her?

Luke doesn’t look her way. His head hangs low, and his voice is uncharacteristically quiet when he answers. “What does it matter? I’m dead.”

There’s a lighter in one of her drawers. She pulls it open, grabs it, and lights the candle. The flame brightens, and a smile tugs at Julie’s lips. Lifting the plate, she steps around the counter. Luke’s jaw drops.

“But it does matter,” Julie insists, never breaking eye contact. “To me.”

Carefully, she puts the plate down on the coffee table. The candle flame flickers but doesn’t go out.

“Happy Birthday.”

Luke’s eyes, still wide in surprise, grow misty, and he blinks rapidly to push his tears away.

“Thank you.” His voice is raspy, and his smile is wobbly but genuine.

They both lapse into silence, and Julie plops herself down next to Luke, drawing her knees to her chest. For a while, they sit there in companionable silence, watching the flame dance. Luke’s lost in his own thoughts, and Julie uses the moment to muster up her courage. There are more secrets she has to confess.

That she found his journal.

That she went with Alex and Reggie.

That he’s still alive.

Time to put the cards on the table.

“I didn’t go on that date with Nick.”

Again, she feels Luke’s eyes on her. But Julie keeps her gaze trained on the flame.

“When I went over to Reggie’s, they didn’t just tell me that it’s your birthday. They were on their way to visit you. And they invited me to come along.”

“Oh,” Luke says. It’s all he says. Julie side-glances at him, desperate to gauge his reaction. After all, there’s more she has to tell him. But she still doesn’t know how to broach the subject to him.

Unfortunately, Luke’s gone quiet again. Chewing on his inner cheek, he appears to be grappling with his own thoughts. Julie doesn’t dare to disrupt him.

“And?” he asks eventually. “Did you go?”

Julie nods. “Of course, but Luke, there’s something you—”

But Luke doesn’t listen. “Did you … did you see if my parents were there?”

Julie is rather nonplussed by his question. She stares at him.

Based on Luke’s off-hand comments, she’d made assumptions about their relationship before. But after today … she isn’t so sure anymore. She feels like she’s missing a few key pieces of information.

Luke’s looking at her, and the look in his eyes … He’s desperate. He needs to know.

“Yeah,” she says. Then she remembers the acoustic guitar leaning against his bed. “They brought your guitar.”

Luke exhales slowly, and he relaxes. He’s relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“I love my parents. I really do! It’s just … When it came to music, we never saw eye to eye. They always thought of music as a hobby. They never understood what it meant to me.” He sighs, and his left hand moves to grab the blue rabbit foot attached to his jeans. He rubs it absent-mindedly. “They were supportive at first, though. They hoped the guitar would keep me out of trouble. And it kinda did. I spent every free minute honing my skills. When I was ten, I started to write my own songs and performed them for my parents, you know?”

Oh, yes, Julie does. She used to do the same. She used to give live concerts in the converted garage. Well, as real as possible when you’re seven years old. She’d arrange chairs around the piano to resemble the seating in a concert hall. She’d craft personalized invitations (with glitter and butterfly stickers) and hand them out to her guests: her mom, her dad, and her tia. But not Carlos. He was three and could be really annoying.

But he came anyway because her parents refused to park him in front of the TV without supervision. He sat on her tia’s lap when Julie entered the stage, wearing her Sunday best and her favorite hairclips. She wasn’t happy to see him. But she wanted to be a professional musician. She couldn’t throw a tantrum in front of her audience. So she just wrinkled her nose and dipped into a courtesy before taking her seat on the piano bench.

She’d flex her fingers once, twice, roll back her shoulders, and finally begin to play her rendition of ‘Everybody wants to be a cat’.

Later, when she took her bow, her family rose to their feet, giving her roaring applause. Even Carlos eagerly smashed his little hands together, and Julie decided he was forgiven.

Julie remembers all of this because her dad used to film it. In fact, she taped every private concert Julie had ever given. A whole section on their shelf is dedicated to Julie’s performances. Julie knows for a fact that her dad dedicates his free weekends to transferring them from VHS to DVD. She once watched him and was mildly embarrassed by her clunky play. Seven-year-old Julie may have had a leg-up in terms of confidence. But she surely had a lot to learn.

She mentions it to Luke, who laughs.

Julie scowls. “Don’t act like you were some kind of guitar whiz-kid!”

“But I was!” Luke’s eyes crinkle, and he winks at her.

And then she begs him to confirm that his first steps were just as wobbly as hers.

Julie snorts.

“Yeah, okay, it was bad,” Luke confesses with a pained smile. “But the feeling … the connection I feel when I pluck a chord … it’s exhilarating. I can feel it in my body. In my veins. The energy that makes me feel alive.” Like always, Luke’s eyes gleam with mania when he talks about music. And Julie can feel it, too. It’s electrifying. And yet …

“But it also calms me down, you know?” Luke continues, fire burning in his eyes. His arms are in the air, hands flailing as he tries articulating his feelings. It’s such a stark contrast to his body shackled to a hospital bed. “When I play, I’m at peace. Like it’s just me and music. The first time I experienced it, it felt like a revelation. At that moment, I just knew I was destined to make music for the rest of my life. And that’s what I told my parents.” He slumps, and his shoulders drop. “They didn’t believe me, I think. They thought it was just a fad I’d grow out of eventually. They could never understand …” He trails off, hands balling into fists. Julie wishes she could console him. She wishes she could take shaking fists into her hands. But she can’t.

“In high school, things got tense. We’d just started the band, and they finally saw that I was serious. It set them off. Or mostly my mom. We fought a lot. Weekly. Daily. We couldn’t be in the same room without lashing out at each other. So one day, I packed my stuff and left.”

Julie gasps.

“I’m not proud of it,” Luke says in a hurry, “I never wanted to hurt my Ma. I just couldn’t do it anymore.” There’s a flicker in his eyes. Desperation. He’s desperate for her understanding. Her absolution.

Julie smiles tentatively. “I get it.”

Luke’s shoulders slope in relief.

“Did you ever make up?”

Luke moves his head from side to side, expression grim. “It’s complicated. After I ran away, we didn’t talk for a year. I felt guilty. And miserable. But I just … I couldn’t go home. I had to prove myself. Then we signed with HGC, and the guys egged me on to call them. We’ve been in contact ever since. But no, we never made up.” For a moment, Luke closes his eyes. He leans his head back and sighs, the gesture heavy with regret. “I never meant for things to end like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

Luke’s mouth curves into a tentative smile. “Thanks.” He exhales slowly. “My parents approved of the job. In their books, it was an excellent compromise. A stable nine-to-five job in the music industry with a biweekly paycheck, a retirement plan, and health insurance.” Luke scoffs, waving his right hand angrily. “Health insurance! Really helpful when you’re dead.”

Julie thinks that it’s his health insurance that’s currently keeping his body alive. But she doesn’t say it. This is so fucked up. How the hell is she supposed to break the truth to him?!

Her Tia Victoria has always been a meddlesome person, and giving unsolicited advice is one of her favorite pastimes. Since her mother’s death, she has made it a habit of dishing out hollow phrases to speed up the grieving process. Time heals all wounds. Keep yourself busy. Or, Julie’s all-time favorite, Rip that band-aid off and get the pain over with.

Julie always found those phrases phenomenally unhelpful. They made her feel like a failure. She’s not grieving fast enough. She’s exceeded the appropriate mourning period.

However, in this instance, her words might be useful. She needs to tell him. About his journal. About his body. About the possibility of mending things with his parents.

“Luke, there’s something you should—”

“I think you are right.”

“What?”

“About my journal. About being a ghost. About …” Luke huffs. “About everything.”

“I don’t— Luke, what do you mean?” Panic grips Julie’s heart, and her voice is alarmed. Luke has this look on his face: jaw clenched, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed with a furrow between his dark eyebrows. It’s the same expression her dad puts on when it’s time to file his income tax return. Unhappy but determined to tackle the unavoidable unpleasantry ahead of him.

“This morning, you told me there isn’t much left of me. You know, aside from my soul.”

Julie winces. “Luke, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I was wrong.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, Julie. You were right. I’m air. I’m a memory.”

“No, Luke, you aren’t—”

“Look at me, Julie!” Luke spreads out his arms. Instinctively, Julie turns her head away. Squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to see. She doesn’t want to remember.

“Julie!” There’s real anger in Luke’s voice.

Julie shudders. Then she looks.

Sometimes, Julie forgets. No, not forget. She chooses to ignore. Chooses to turn a blind eye to the facts. Here, in this apartment, they play pretend. They’ve created their own universe. Their own normality. In this world, they’re both real.

But now she can’t. Not when he forces her to see. He’s transparent and blurry around the edges. His arm sticks through her coffee table, and through his head, Julie sees the kitchen, the flickering lamp, and the fridge. Her chest tightens.

Luke’s a ghost.

He’s dead.

Except he isn’t. He has a body. A body that’s still and motionless and teeters on the brink of death.

Julie’s head begins to throb. Her world is thrown out of joint. Black dots begin to invade her vision, dancing around like ghost lights.

“Remember when you asked me about my Unfinished Business?” Luke asks.  

Julie just stares. She heard his words, but her brain struggles to process them.

Luke is unbothered by her silence. “I told you there’s a song in my journal that could be my Unfinished Business. It’s a song I wrote for my mom after I ran away.”

Oh.

Luke swallows, curling and unfurling his hands. “I always meant to give it to her. Play it. But I never—” He sighs, the sound loaded with remorse. “I guess I waited too long.”

Yeah, maybe. Or maybe not. The concept of Unfinished Business seems so absurd now. So obsolete. Nervous, Julie wrings her hands. Her fingers are cold and clammy.

“So, you think handing this to your parents will what? Let you move on?”

Luke shrugs. He’s not meeting her eye. He scuffs his checkerboard vans on the floorboards.

Julie’s stomach churns with guilt. This isn’t the conversation they are supposed to have. It’s veering into a dangerous territory. Julie needs to tell him the truth.

“Why now?” That’s not what she meant to say. She tries to will her mouth to form the correct words. But it refuses cooperation.

Luke chews on his lip. “You were right,” he says again, “I knew you were right when you wanted to find my journal. I knew it was the right thing to do.”

“Then why didn’t you let me search for it?”

“It wasn’t because I don’t trust. I do trust you.” The words come out in a rush, and he looks at her with wide, pleading eyes, desperate for her to believe him. His words make Julie feel sick. She thinks of the journal, hidden in her bedroom, and his body vegetating in a hospital bed. He trusts her. And she’s violated it again and again.

Luke exhales deeply. His hands are fists again. His knuckles whiten. “I was scared. Not of crossing over. That’s alright, I guess.” He shrugs again, unsure. “But what if it isn’t my unfinished business. What if there’s no such thing? What if I’m meant to haunt this place? I’m not sure how much time passed between dying and waking up again. But when I came around, the guys were here. That wasn’t unusual. We used to hang around at our places all the time. Especially after a gig.

“But I couldn’t remember what happened before. I had a total blackout or something. So I asked them what was going on. They never answered.” Luke’s voice cracks with emotion. Of course, he never got an answer. Julie pictures him waving his arms to get his friends’ attention. Yelling. Crying. All to no avail. They didn’t see him. They didn’t hear him. Julie’s insides twist and shrivel at the thought.

“At first, I thought they were pranking me. I got angry. I shouted at them. Then I noticed they were searching for something.”

“Your journal.” Julie’s voice sounds strangely distant. Hollow.

Luke doesn’t seem to notice. He nods. “From their conversations, I pieced together what happened. I fell. I died.”

Julie winces. He’s only partially right. He did fall. The dying … that’s not decided yet. Julie should tell him. She really should. But when she opens her mouth, the words refuse to leave. Yet. The word rings in her head. He isn’t dead yet. It’s been nine months. There’s a chance that he won’t make it.

“After that, I felt worse than when I ran out on my parents. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t leave this place. I couldn’t do music. When the guys packed up my stuff, that was rough.” For a brief moment, sadness is etched into his features. But it vanishes quickly. “Then you moved in, and for a while, I didn’t feel like a ghost. You made me feel human again. With you, I could make music again. And hanging out with you was real fun.” But there’s an undercurrent of something in his voice. His smile falters, and his eyes flicker away. He draws his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “But it’s like you said. I’m a soul. I’m not real.”

“Luke, you are real– you—”

“I’m dead,” Luke says firmly. “And I can’t stay here forever. I don’t want to. I don’t want to see the guys get old and move on. Move out. And I don’t want to see you—” He cuts himself off, staring vacantly at the TV. The screen is dark, and Julie sees her reflection on it. Only hers. A poignant reminder. Luke is right. He is air.

After a moment, Luke shakes her head. “I have to go. And I need to ask you for a favor.”

Julie sucks in a sharp breath, and her heart thuds violently against her ribcage. “A favor?” she asks, voice strangled.

Luke nods. “I need to find my journal and finish whatever task I have left. So I can finally… rest. But I don’t think I can do it alone. Not like this.” He flexes his fingers, which are pale and see-through, before looking her in the eye. “So, would you help me?”

And this should be it. This should be the moment to interfere. This is not what they should be talking about. They should talk about Luke’s prospects for waking up. They shouldn’t talk about his death.

But Julie can’t swallow around the lump in her throat.

“Julie, please.”

Julie blinks against the tears brimming in her eyes. She nods. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

September 2002

“Are you going out again?”

Julie nods while shimmying out of her jeans. Of course, Luke can’t see it. Julie is in her bedroom, and Luke, most importantly, is not.

“Yeah,” she says, loud enough for him to hear her. “Nick invited me to dinner.”

She can hear Luke’s quiet “Oh” through the door. Then: “And you said yes?”

“I already ditched him yesterday,” Julie says. “I have to make up for it.”

“Yeah, I guess so …” Luke sighs, and then he falls silent.

Julie tries hard not to interpret too much into it. Instead, she opens her dresser, surveying the possibilities. Eventually, she settles on leggings and a tunic with a floral pattern. It’ll do for the occasion.

She exits her bedroom not even two minutes later. This time, Luke doesn’t compliment her clothing. That’s okay. Leaning against the wall in the hallway, he has his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders are scrunched up to his ears. He looks glum.

Julie feels a nasty prick of conscience. It’s her fault he’s so down. She knows that. But she can’t possibly tell him the truth.

“Alright,” she says, folding her arms to conceal her guilt, “what’s wrong?”

“I dunno.” Luke shrugs. “I just thought we could look for my journal.”

Julie’s heart misses a beat. It takes every ounce of self-control not to look back at her bedroom. She clears her throat. “Do you know where it is now? Or have any other ideas?”

Luke hesitates. His eyes dance around, hoping to spot anything that could give him a clue about the whereabouts of his journal. Instinctively, Julie moves to block his view.

After a moment, he admits quietly, “No.”

Julie sighs. It’s a sigh of relief, not exasperation. But thankfully, Luke doesn’t notice the difference. “We can look for it tomorrow.”

Luke’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “Yeah, sure.”

Julie isn’t fair to him. She knows that. And the guilt weighs heavy on her. She should tell him the truth. But she’s still unsure how to approach it. She needs more time to evaluate her options.

She brushes past him, careful not to walk through him. He trails behind her, slouching and hands in his pockets. The sight does not lift her spirits whatsoever.

“I promise,” Julie says, grabbing her denim jacket that’s draped over the back of a chair.

“No date tomorrow?”

“No,” Julie replies, “Unless you count Reggie’s hamster.”

Luke stares at her, puzzled.

“I offered to babysit his hamster while he’s out.”

“Why?” Luke asks. “Where’s he going?”

A sad smile tugs at Julie’s lips. “Visiting you.”

“Oh,” Luke says, and then says nothing at all. While Julie grabs her purse and her keys, he’s silent, a look of deep contemplation on his face.

“I’m off,” Julie declares as she opens the door. Luke hums in acknowledgment, still too preoccupied with his own thoughts. 

Sighing, Julie leaves, shutting the door behind her.

It’s Monday evening, and Broadway is crammed. Rush hour is only now slowly weaning off. She crawls past cinemas, bars, hotels, and restaurants that flank either side of the street. In the distance, she spots The Orpheum. It’s not quite dark yet. But its characteristic neon sign already gleams in the twilight like a beacon. The sidewalks on either side of the boulevard are thronged with people, hurrying to reach their reservations or get to the next screening of Barbershop. For a moment, she pictures Nick among them, anxiously waiting for her to arrive. She keeps driving, not pulling over to find a parking spot.

She didn’t lie to Luke. During lunch break, Nick invited her to the movies again. But Julie refused. She has other plans.

Julie still likes Nick. She felt bad when she had to cancel their date yesterday. Now, after rejecting him a second time, she’s riddled with guilt.

Nick is a nice guy. And Julie most certainly has a little crush on him. When he asked her out a couple of days ago, Julie’s heart soared with excitement. And she had been giddy about it.

It’s just… after what she learned the day before, accepting his invitation felt wrong. She has other, more pressing concerns at her hands now.  

The 7 o’clock news rolls around, and Julie gets anxious, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel like Alex did. She doesn’t have much time. 

Twenty minutes later, she leaves Downtown, heading north until she reaches a familiar neighborhood and pulls into a parking lot. The LAC+USC building looms ahead of her, its white walls now tinged orange by the setting sun. It’s a beautiful sight. It’s a scary sight.

Half a year ago, after her mother’s death, Julie had vowed to herself to never go near this place again. To never set foot inside. She didn’t want to face the memories she associates with the place. The emotional turmoil that would undoubtedly crush her if she got too close. Just seeing a photo of the building when she browsed Reggie’s camera shook her to the core.

In hindsight, it was a childish vow. Her mother’s death wasn’t the building’s fault. Or the hospital staff’s. The nurses, doctors, and surgeons – they did all they could to help her mom. And they do all they can to help Luke. She’s sure of it.

Locking her car, she checks her watch again. It’s half past seven. ICU visiting hours end at eight.

She keeps her head down as she crosses the plaza, trying to ignore the ambulances that approach the hospital with wailing sirens. Julie misses having Reggie’s emotional support around. Holding onto his cage helped her a lot yesterday. But Reggie isn’t around. And they wouldn’t let her in.

The entrance hall isn’t as crammed as the day before. There are no families with clamoring children, and conversations are held in hushed tones. It affects the atmosphere drastically.

Julie keeps her eyes glued to the marble floor as she traverses the atrium, heading straight for the elevators. She traces the steps they took yesterday, pressing the same button Alex did and exiting to the left. Then she stops. The corridor is the same – windowless and with doors branching off on either side. At the far end, a double doors with frosted glass panes blocks the way.

Julie stops, staring at the door. Her heart hammers in her chest. This is incredibly risky. Officially, she doesn’t even know Luke. What if she runs into his friends or family?

She knows that Reggie isn’t here. Otherwise, he’d have asked her to watch his hamster. And since he wouldn’t come alone, Julie is almost certain that neither Bobby nor Alex is here. But Julie doesn’t know much about his parents. How often do they visit him? Does he have any siblings?? Other relatives? What about other friends? Acquaintances from gigs? Girlfriends? Boyfriends?

Suddenly, Julie realizes how little she knows about Luke. About his life. Up until yesterday, it didn’t seem so relevant. He was dead. His life was over. Sure, they were mourning him. And Luke was— no, is missing them. But there was no way back. She’d never asked anything, either.

When her mother got sick, they had many visitors. Friends and family, of course. Neighbors, students, and members of her book club. It was a constant stream of people, and the house was always filled with chatter. Sometimes, it was overbearing.

But after some time, when her mother’s condition grew worse, the visits petered out. And the visitors who kept coming were always the same – her closest friends and family. Julie can only speculate about the reasons. Maybe the others didn’t want to see her suffer. Maybe they just got bored. Her mother’s sickness had become a new normal. There was fresh gossip to cater to. Other family tragedies to feast upon.

They all showed up to the funeral, though. A guilty conscience. Sorry, we didn’t swing by more often; thanks for the pasteles.

Is it the same with Luke? How many people bother to visit him regularly? How many friendships survive nine months of inactivity?

Julie shakes her head. There’s no point in speculating. Only one way to find out.

Rolling back her shoulders, she strides forward and rings the bell. This time, she doesn’t get buzzed in. Instead, a nurse opens the door. It’s the woman from yesterday, Jenn. Recognition sparks in her eyes. She does remember Julie. That’s good. It’ll make things easier. Hopefully.

Julie puts on a smile. “Good evening, I’m here to see Luke Patterson.”

The nurse doesn’t step aside. Frowning, she asks, “And you are?”

“I’m Julie Molina. I’m—”

“You’re not on the list,” Jenn interrupts her harshly.

Right. Luke can’t articulate who he wants to see. That’s why there’s a list. A list compiled by his parents and friends. Her name is not on that list. They don’t know each other. She’d never met the person lying in the room down the hall.

“I know. But I was here yesterday. With his friends, Alex and Reggie.” She takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. “I’m his girlfriend.”

Jenn’s eyebrows shoot up, but Julie doesn’t give her any time to recover. She’s rehearsed for this all day.

“And I know that visiting hours are almost over. But I really hoped you’d let me in. I need to see him. I need to know that he’s doing alright. He’s doing alright, isn’t he?”

It’s her earnest concern that does the trick. Something flickers in Jenn’s eyes. Compassion. Pity. Doubt. She cast a nervous look over her shoulder before answering, “He’s stable.” She gives Julie a funny look. “No hamster?”

Julie raises her hands, showing her palms. “No hamster.”

Another pause. Jenn hesitates. But eventually, she glances down to check her watch. She smacks her lips impatiently. “You have fifteen minutes.” And then she opens the door to let Julie inside. The procedure is the same as yesterday. Julie is directed to the bathroom, where she washes and sanitizes her hands. Back outside, she locates Luke’s room. There, she waits.

Julie’s nervous. Anxious. She feels the urge to fidget with her car keys. But she resists. Instead, she rocks on her heels. She contemplates peeking through the window but dismisses the idea. Waiting feels different than yesterday. Not better or worse. Just different. Yesterday, she came unprepared. She’d been thrown into this situation without prewarning and, overwhelmed, her brain had been unable to fully process the events and their implications.

Today, she came of her own accord. Her own conscious decision.

Jenn reappears with a blue paper gown and shoe covers, handing them to Julie. She slips the covers over and tries to do the same with the gown but struggles to tie it up. Eventually, Jenn takes pity on her. Julie isn’t used to wearing those. They weren’t required when she visited her mom.

Julie thanks the nurse, and she, in return, gives her a stern look. “In case of an emergency, you have to leave immediately. He is our priority, not you. Understood?”

Julie nods. And then, she’s led into Luke’s room.

Immediately, she squeezes her eyes shut against an unexpected brightness. The sun is setting, and blinding sunlight streams into the room. Jenn mutters something under her breath and hustles past Julie to draw the curtains.

Julie blinks, her eyes slowly adjusting to the light. She does not look at Luke. Instead, she focuses on the surroundings. She recognizes the machines she spotted yesterday. The EKG draws a steady graph on the patient monitor – a flat baseline with peaks recurring at regular intervals. His heartbeat is strong and steady. It’s a stark contrast to the thready pounding in her chest.
There are more lines on the monitor. Julie tries to remember the meanings of the color. The green line is the EKG strip. Then, there’s one wavy line representing respiration – the yellow one – and another line that visualizes the oxygen saturation. Julie is, by all means, no expert. But his vitals look strong and rhythmic. That’s a good sign, right?

Jenn is still behind her, hovering. Observing. Julie feels her watchful gaze on her. The hair on her nape prickles with fear. She needs to get Jenn off her back.

Next to an IV pole stands an uncomfortably looking vinyl chair at the bedside. Nervous, she perches herself on the edge of it, hands in her lap. She doesn’t want to look.

What if the person in the bed is not Luke? What if there has been a big misunderstanding? What if it’s not? What if it really is Luke? Both possibilities frighten her equally. But Jenn is still around. So, Julie looks. She gasps.

It is Luke. But it also isn’t. It’s like she’s meeting an alternative version of Luke – a Luke that exists in a different timeline. Maybe a twin. Or a doppelganger. His hair is shorter, his skin paler, his face thinner. He lost weight and muscle. His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted. And he has a scar on his forehead, running from his right eye to his temple before disappearing underneath his hair.

Julie’s hand flies to her temple, touching it. She remembers. When she accidentally walked through him, she was wracked with a piercing pain right there. Luke fell. He fractured his skull. But he didn’t die. He’s still hanging in.

Julie sniffles. “You’re alive,” she whispers. Tears prick in her eyes.

“You can interact with him, you know.” Jenn is standing by the door, leaning against the frame, arms crossed and lips pursed.

“How?”

“Talk to him. Hold his hand.”

“Can he… can he feel it?” Julie’s heart twangs at the idea. Luke didn’t know he was alive though. He might’ve mentioned phantom hands on his. Although, she thinks, he mentions so little… maybe he doesn’t feel them at all. Maybe it doesn’t make a difference.

Jenn smiles sadly. “There’s always hope. But be careful with the lines and the wires.” She points at various plastic tubes hooked up to the patient monitor, the IV bags, and other machines. From there, they run to Luke’s body, either supplying him with nutrients and fluids or gathering data. Julie takes a moment to take in the bigger picture. Luke is neatly tucked in. A comforter is draped over his body, making it impossible to see where most of the tubes and wires are attached.

There’s also a tube sticking out of his throat. It’s an unnerving sight, and Julie quickly averts her eyes, focusing on his torso again. One arm has freed itself. Or maybe it’s been placed there for easier access. The skin there is bruised from injections and the IVs. His hand rests on the mattress, palm facing upwards. His bracelets and rings are gone, too. Instead, he wears a patient wristband with his name and date of admission on it. December 17^th, 2001 – a week before Christmas. Nine months ago.

Julie’s gaze travels to his hand. It’s Luke’s hand. The same hand that attempted to brush that pesty, loose curl away.

Luke’s real. He has a body made from flesh, muscles, blood, and bones. She can touch him. Should she? What if she does? Will Luke feel it? Will her Luke feel it? Her heart races faster at the thought.

With trembling fingers, Julie reaches out. Then she stops. What if it won’t work? What if her fingers glide right through his skin?

Jenn notices her hesitation. “You know, nobody ever mentioned a girlfriend,” she states crossly.

“They don’t know,” Julie says, dropping her hand. “Not even the guys. We never told them. We wanted to keep it a secret.”

Jenn hums. “Is that why you’ve never visited?”

Ouch. Julie isn’t surprised by her hostility. But it hurts, nonetheless. She curls her hand into a fist.

“No,” Julie says, slowly shaking her head. “My mom – she had been sick for almost a year. She passed away a few months ago.”

Jenn sucks in a sharp breath. “Here?”

Julie nods. “She was on a different ward, but yeah.” Her voice is choked with despair. No matter how much time passes, the death of her mother will always pain her. She had never intended to involve her mom in her lies. It felt wrong. It still feels wrong. “I couldn’t bring myself to come here. It was all too much.”

There’s an awkward pause. Jenn shuffles uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She sighs. Heavy. Guilt-ridden. “We do our best. But sometimes, it’s not enough.” She sounds bitter. How many patients has she lost? How many times has she had to inform desperate relatives about a loved one’s death?

At once, Julie feels terrible for exploiting Jenn’s guilty conscience. She’s just doing her job. She’s protecting her patients.

“I know that,” Julie says quickly. “And I appreciate all you do for your patients. My mom was in good care. And so is Luke.”

A half-smile tugs at Jenn’s lips before she presses them into a thin line. She checks her watch again, staring at it much longer than it takes to check the time. She wrinkles her nose as she makes a decision.

“Ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Jenn nods wordlessly and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. And suddenly, Julie’s all alone with Luke.

He looks like he’s sleeping. Except, Luke doesn’t strike Julie as a peaceful sleeper. In her imagination, he’s the kind of person who keeps tossing and turning, kicking the sheets, bolting upright in the middle of the night because he’s had a sudden burst of inspiration and needs to jot it down.

This peaceful, motionless version of him just doesn’t sit right with her.

While Luke is silent, his surroundings are not. The room is filled with the buzz of his machines. The beeping of the monitor. The hissing of the ventilator. It’s an awfully monotone rhythm. It’s unnerving.

Julie looks around, desperate for a stereo or a radio or anything to distract herself. Yesterday, she saw a guitar leaning against the bed. But it’s gone. In fact, aside from the bed and the machines, there’s absolutely nothing. The entire room is devoid of personal belongings. When her mom was hospitalized, her nightstand was littered with framed photographs, cards, books, and a bouquet of flowers. Luke’s room is… soulless.

She should have brought her Discman. She’s sure Luke would have appreciated it.

Julie is stalling. She knows she is. She just… she’s just wasting precious time lamenting a hospital room’s interior design.

She huffs, annoyed with herself.

Jenn suggested taking his hand. But Julie can’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she puts her hands on her knees, squeezing them instead of Luke’s hand.

“Hey, Luke, it’s me…”

She pauses, frowning at him.

“Do you… do you even know who I am?”

Sure, his soul does. But his soul is currently sulking in her living room.

She clears her throat. “I’m Julie. We’re friends … and we live together.” Kinda. Julie’s mind wanders back to the day they met, and she smiles at the memory. He wanted to mess with her. Just another intruder who can’t hear nor see him. Except, Julie can. And it spooked the living daylights out of him. He stumbled and fell right through the closed window. It didn’t harm him. Of course not. Luke’s a ghost.

But he’s also not. He’s real. He’s corporeal.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Julie says. “You should be at home. At your place. No, wait, that’s not true. You should be on stage with your friends, living your dream.” Yeah, that’s more fitting. And Julie would be there. She’d be in the crowd, ecstatic, chanting their names. His name. At the thought, a tingle spreads to her body, and a swarm of butterflies erupts in her stomach.

She likes Luke. She likes him a lot. And she’s done so for quite a while. But for the longest time, it had been a fantasy. Like a celebrity crush. Funny to entertain but utterly unattainable.

Luke’s a ghost. But he also isn’t. The perpetual back and forth makes Julie’s head spin.

To make matters worse, Luke is highly unresponsive. His silence is jarring. Her Luke can be contemplative at times, lost in his own world. Melancholic even. But he’s not like this.

“Luke,” Julie whispers, leaning in, careful not to interfere with the tubes. “Can you do me a favor? Can you wake up for me?”

With bated breath, she watches, desperate to spy even the most minuscule movement. Her heart hammers in her throat.

But there’s nothing to wait for. No stirring. No fluttering of his eyelids. Just the same regular beeping and hissing of the machines.

Julie slumps back in her chair, chin on her chest. She tries not to be disheartened. But it’s hard. Reality is hard. This is medicine, not magic. If he could wake up, he would.

There’s a soft knock on the door. Julie looks up just as Jenn pokes her head inside, a sad smile on her face. Time’s up.

Julie sighs and stands. Yet, she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from Luke’s body. She smiles wanly.

“Luke, you saved me. Please, let me do the same for you.”

And then she does it. Taking a deep breath, she summons every ounce of courage and grasps Luke’s hand. She gasps, almost dropping his hand again. It’s so warm. And soft. That surprises Julie. He’s a guitar player, after all. She expected his hands to be rougher. But after months without playing, his calluses have begun to smooth out. It’s sad.

She gently nudges his fingers, and for a fraction of a second, she feels a faint flutter against her fingertips. Julie jumps. Still clutching onto his hand, she spins around, eyes finding the monitor. She’s hopeful. Desperate. But the rhythm of his heartbeat remains unchanged.

“Nerves,” Jenn explains. “It’s not a conscious movement.”

Right…

Julie’s shoulders sag in disappointment. “Oh.”

Gingerly, her fingers travel across his palm, following the lines. Julie doesn’t believe in palmistry. But she believes in Luke. Her thumb trails along his lifeline.

“You still have so much living to do,” she whispers. “So don’t die. I promise I’ll be back.” If she can figure out a way to sneak in again.

Reluctantly, Julie lets go of his hand, already missing the warmth. Limp, it falls back to his side. It stays there, unmoving, fingers not twitching at all. It’s a gut-wrenching sight. 

Jenn waits for her by the door. Back outside, she directs her to a big trash can. A white paper sign indicates that visitors should dispose of gowns, gloves, masks, and shoe covers here. While Julie unfastens the laces and slips out of the gown, she wonders if Jenn verified her story. Is there a centralized computer system? Does she have access to data from other wards? Julie wouldn’t mind if she looked it up. But she hopes she didn’t investigate too closely. Julie was deliberately evasive about the details. Her mom was still alive when Luke got admitted.

Julie freezes, her heart stuttering in her chest. There’s an overlap. For a couple of months, they both had been treated here. Is there any significance to it? Is that why she can see him? But she’d never been to this ward before. Did their paths cross somewhere else? Luke got admitted on December 17^th, according to his bracelet. Julie frowns. Her mother hadn’t been in inpatient care yet. But she had been here for treatments and various examinations. Did she have an appointment on that day? Julie can’t remember. Maybe she marked it in her calendar. She has to go through it once she’s back home.

She tosses the gown and shoe covers in the trash. When she looks back at Luke’s room, the door is closed. Beyond his room, there are more doors. More rooms with more patients, their conditions similar to Luke’s. How many of them will survive? How many won’t?

Julie squashes the thought down. She doesn’t want to think about it.

Silently, she follows Jenn, who walks her to the door. A large metal push button is installed next to it. Jenn presses it, and the door swings open.

Julie doesn’t want to leave. Not without Luke. But once she has stepped over the threshold, there’s no way back.

“Thank you for letting me see Luke. I’m grateful for what you did for me.”

Jenn nods. But she looks uneasy. Holding the door open, she chews on her lips. A beat of silence passes. Then, a noise startles both of them. The sound of hurried footsteps on the squelchy linoleum. Jenn risks a nervous glance over her shoulder. Another nurse hastens down the corridor before she disappears into a patient’s room. Not Luke’s room, Julie notices. Jenn waits until the door falls shut. Then, she finally makes up her mind.

“His parents always leave around seven thirty,” she says suddenly.

Julie stares at her, confused.

“His mother always arrives at six,” Jenn continues, “His father usually shows up an hour later. They stay until half past seven. They’re like clockwork. His friends are harder to predict, though.”

“I know when they visit Luke,” Julie says quickly. “They tell me.” It’s not a lie. Reggie tells her. She has to watch his hamster. Julie’s heartbeat accelerates. Is Jenn suggesting what Julie thinks she is? Hope sparks in her. “Does this mean I’m allowed to come back?”

Jenn’s face contorts into a grimace. For a moment, she looks like she regrets her offer. But it’s too late. “I’m not supposed to do this. But we’re running out of ideas of what to do with him.” She huffs, clearly frustrated.

Oh. Julie’s relief is short-lived. So that’s what it is. They’re grasping for straws, aren’t they? “And you think I can help?”

Jenn’s lips curl into a pained, mirthless smile. “He needs all the help he can get.”

A cold washes over her, and her stomach plummets. That’s not what she wanted to hear. She puts on a brave smile nonetheless.

“Thank you. I’ll be back.”

The next day, Julie is a bundle of nerves. Logically, there’s no reason to be so anxious. She knows Jenn will handle the secret with great delicacy. Meaning that by the end of the week, the staff of the whole ward will be informed about the secret girlfriend of one of their coma patients, who hadn’t visited her boyfriend in nine months because of her dead mother. The power of gossip is irresistible, and the story is just too good. But Julie is very convinced that Jenn won’t disclose it to Luke’s friends or parents.

And yet…

When the guys invite her to a late lunch to make up for ditching her on Sunday, Julie can’t shake the feeling of being lured into a trap. She wants to weasel out of it. But they’re persistent. Reggie is especially hard to get rid of.

“Nonsense,” he says cheerfully. “Without you, they would have never allowed me to visit Luke. I would have missed his birthday!” He looks horrified at the possibility. He quickly shakes his head to get the idea out of his head. “And I owe you for taking care of Luke!”

Julie yelps. “Luke?”

“Yeah,” Reggie says, beaming brightly at her. “Luke, my hamster.” He pauses, and his smile falls. He frowns at her. “You offered to watch him, remember?”

Julie’s eyes widen. “Oh. Right! Your hamster. Luke. Luke is your hamster.”

“Yup, Luke’s my hamster.” He looks at her with big, pleading eyes. “You’re still up for it, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. Totally! I’m excited to have him over tonight.” Her words come out in a rush, and her voice sounds strangled. Thankfully, Reggie doesn’t notice.  

“Sweet.”

And then Reggie throws an arm around her shoulder and leads her to the diner across the street. Alex and Bobby are waiting outside, and together, they enter the diner. It’s past the usual lunchtime, and they have no trouble finding a booth. Still nervous, Julie slides on the bench. Reggie plops down next to her. Julie squirms uncomfortably in her seat, pressing herself into the corner between the wall and the window. In hindsight, not the wisest choice. Now she feels even more trapped.

“So, uh,” Julie speaks up. She wants to get a word in before has the chance to address more dangerous topics. “How’s your hamster?”

“Luke’s great. I think he’s really excited to stay with you. Every time I mention your name, he does little hamster zoomies.”

Julie lets out a laugh. “I’m excited, too. Growing up, I never had a pet.” Though, she doubts that the real Luke shares her excitement to spend the evening babysitting his namesake. “Do I need to do anything? Like give him dinner, or clean his cage? Sing him a lullaby?”

Reggie waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry. I feed him before we leave. And we’ll be home by nine. So, I’m gonna read him his bedtime story when we’re back.”

Knowing Reggie, Julie’s almost certain it’s not a joke. She glances at Alex and catches sight of his pained smile on his lips. Next to him, Bobby folds his arms and rolls his eyes. Yeah, not a joke.   

“Oh!” Reggie exclaims suddenly, oblivious to his friends’ reaction. His face lights up. “I can give you his ball if you want.”

“A ball?” Julie frowns. “He’s not going to fetch it, right?”

Reggie shakes his head. “Sadly, no.”

“But that’s not due to a lack of trying,” Bobby huffs.

“One day, he’ll get the hang of it,” Reggie says confidently. “But no, it’s a plastic ball.” He uses his hands to indicate its size. It’s a bit smaller than the portable cage. “You put Luke inside, put him on the floor, and he gets to explore your apartment.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.” Not for the real Luke, though. He’s going to be so pissed.

“Did Reggie tell you when we leave?” Alex asks. “We plan to head out right after work. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, sure. Just drop him off. We’re– I’m home.”

Reggie makes a sound of triumph and pumps a fist into the air. Mid-movement, he suddenly freezes, and his eyes widen.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve got a gift for you.” He digs through the pockets of his leather jacket until he produces a bundle of white fabric. As he unfolds it, Julie realizes it’s a rumpled t-shirt.

Alex and Bobby groan loudly.

Reggie ignores their protests and presents the shirt to her. Sunset Curve is printed on its front. “Tada! Your very own Sunset Curve t-shirt.” He winks at her. “And it’s limited edition.”

Bobby scoffs. “It’s limited edition cause we couldn’t afford more than twenty.”

“And the quality sucks,” Alex adds. “Whenever they get wet, they kinda fall apart in your hands.”

That doesn’t deter Reggie whatsoever. He’s still beaming at her. “So what do you say? Do you like it?”

“I–” She does like it. A lot. She’s just at a total loss of words. She clears her throat. “That’s– It’s amazing!” She flashes him an appreciative smile. “Thank you!”

Reggie wiggles excitedly in his seat as he hands her the t-shirt. But Bobby doesn’t seem convinced. He gives her an appraising look. “Have you ever listened to any of our songs?”

Julie’s smile falls off, and she drops her gaze, her fingers twisting the fabric of the shirt. “I, uh, … I haven’t.”

Bobby snorts derisively. His reaction angers Julie, and her hands fist the t-shirt more violently. She lifts her eyes again to glower at him. “No, I haven’t,” she says again, jutting her chin out. “But I’d love to hear you guys play.”

Bobby’s upper lip curls like he wants to retort. But after a moment, he snaps his mouth shut.

Meanwhile, Alex gives Reggie an exasperated look. “Really? You brought her our t-shirt but not our demo?”

“But I don’t have them,” Reggie protests. “You confiscated them, remember?”

“That’s true,” Bobby agrees. “You did because he–” He tilts his head at Reggie. “–was handing them out like candy.”

“Oh,” Alex says lamely, blinking as the realization sinks in. “Oh fuck, I did.” He clears his throat and offers Julie a sheepish smile. “Would you like one?”

“Absolutely. Are you guys still a band?”

“Of course,” Reggie declares promptly. “I mean, sure, we’re on hiatus right now. But when Luke gets better, this band will be back. Oh, by the way, we have a song that’s called This band is back. We never recorded it. But we totally should. Do you think we can record it in the hospital? All we need is Luke’s guitar.”

While Reggie talks, Alex and Bobby exchange worried looks.

“Reg,” Alex hedges carefully, “You know that–”

“Luke will wake up, and he’ll be alright.” There’s a finality to the statement that makes Julie tense. Nervous, her eyes flick back to Alex, who looks at Reggie with a pinched expression. Then he drags a hand across his face, rubbing his nose.

“You’re right,” Alex says, and a smile tugs at his lips. It’s faint. But it’s there nonetheless. “Luke’s too bullheaded to die.”

Reggie looks pleased with himself.

Julie bites on her inner cheek in order to bite back a laugh. She really likes Luke’s friends.

Then, she suddenly registers a movement on the fringe of her periphery. She turns her head just in time as a man approaches their table. He’s tall, dark-skinned, and vaguely familiar.

Across from her, Alex suddenly sits up straight. “Willie!” A faint blush blossoms on his cheeks. “I’m– it’s, uh, good to see you.”

To be honest, Willie doesn’t look very excited to be here. His body language is all wrong. He has his arms wrapped around his torso, and his shoulders are hunched.

However, he does greet Alex with a tiny smile. “Hi, ‘lex.” His eyes shift to Bobby and Reggie. “Hi, guys.” Then, they settle upon Julie. His smile falls, and his dark eyebrows shoot upwards. He didn’t expect her to be here. But he quickly schools his face back into a neutral expression.

“Hi,” he says, “I’m Willie.”

“Julie,” Julie replies.

“Nice to meet you.”

She opens her mouth to remind him of their brief encounter a few weeks ago. But he shakes his head slightly. A warning flickers in his eyes. Julie closes her mouth again.

“Hey, Willie,” Reggie says a tad too loudly to sound casual, “Wanna join us? You can sit next to Alex.” He flashes Alex a devious smirk before addressing Bobby, “Bobert, scoot over.”

“Stop calling me that,” Bobby grumbles and grimaces as Alex sidles closer to him to make room for Willie. Like Julie earlier, he squeezes himself in the corner.

Willie, however, seems reluctant to accept the invitation. Still hugging himself, he doesn’t look anybody in the eye when he says, “Thanks, guys, but that’s not why I’m here. …Alex, can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Willie tilts his head to the entrance. “Outside?”

“Uhm…” Willie’s question catches Alex off-guard. Unsure, his gaze drifts to his friends. They both nod encouragingly. Even Julie does. “Yeah, sure.”

In his eagerness to get up, Alex’s foot catches on the table leg. He stumbles and probably would have lost balance if Willie hadn’t rushed to his aid. His arms shoot forward, catching him around the shoulders to steady him.

“You good?” Willie asks, concerned.

Alex’s face flushes a furious pink. He quickly straightens himself. “No. I mean, yeah, I’m good. I’m just– I’m sorry.”

Willie regards him intently. All the time, he never lets go of Alex’s shoulders. “You sure?”

“I–” Alex suddenly cuts himself off. At once, he seems to have become aware of the audience. Not just his friends and Julie. A few patrons have turned their heads to indulge in the unexpected afternoon entertainment. Behind the counter, a young waitress leans towards her older coworker, whispering something into her ear. The other woman nods. Both have their eyes fixed on Alex and Willie. Immediately, Alex’s hands drop to his sides, and he begins wiping them on his dark cargo pants.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just super clumsy. I’m sorry for this. It won’t happen again, I promise. Uh, but thanks for catching me.” Alex squares his shoulders, extracting himself from Willie’s grip.

Willie throws him an odd look. “You’re welcome. Wanna go?”

Alex nods stiffly. Without waiting for Willie to lead the way, he brushes past him, adamant not to make any physical contact. Still frowning, Willie follows him.

Julie, Reggie, and Bobby wait until the door has fallen shut before they make a dash for the window. With their window seats, Julie and Bobby are at an advantage, and in the end, Reggie almost crawls over the table to get a better view.

Alex and Willie are huddled together next to a mailbox, and while they haven’t moved far, they have their backs turned to the window. It makes it impossible to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Julie asks as she cranes her neck. “Do you think he’s going to ask Alex out? Alex has had a crush on Willie for months, hasn’t he?”

“Years,” Reggie corrects her. Then he jerks his head around to cast her a curious look. “How’d you find out about Alex’s crush?”

Oh fuck! That’s something Luke told her. She isn’t supposed to know. “I, uh, just guessed. Alex told me he’s gay, remember?” Well, he most likely didn’t intend to tell her. The words just spewed out of him. “So when I saw them on my first day, I thought they’d be cute together. You know, uh, a lot of chemistry and–” And Julie better keeps her mouth shut.

Thankfully, Reggie and Bobby are too absorbed in Alex’s love life to pay much attention to her ramblings.  

“They’re both so obvious,” Bobby huffs, pressing his nose against the windowpane. “He needs to man up and ask him out.”

“Who?” Reggie asks, “Alex or Willie?”

“Both of them!”

Reggie and Julie nod in agreement.

Unfortunately, with their backs turned to their audience, it is impossible to tell if either of them “has manned up”. But it’s unmistakable that Willie is the one who’s doing the talking. Meanwhile, Alex leans into Willie’s space, head tilted to the side as he listens intently. His hands are plunged into the pockets of his pants. But Alex never stopped fidgeting. Even from afar, Julie can sense his anxious aura. She can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t about an invitation to the movies.

Suddenly, Alex’s entire body tenses. His shoulders roll back, and he jerks his head away from Willie. As he does, he turns just slightly, and they get a look at his face.

Julie sucks in a sharp breath, and next to her, Reggie says loudly, “Oh, fuck!”

All color has drained from his face. His mouth is aghast, and his eyes are wide with horror as he stares at Willie, who’s still talking. But his demeanor has changed too. There’s an urgency to the way he’s talking. In what Julie interprets as an attempt to calm Alex, Willie lifts his hands to chest level and steps closer to Alex. It’s not working. For every step Willie takes towards Alex, Alex takes a step back. His face darkens with every step.

Alex doesn’t explode when he gets angry. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t lash out. Instead, he goes still. All the fidgeting. All the wiping his hands and bouncing his leg. It all comes to a halt. It’s alarming.

Willie must sense it too, because his movement become more hectic. His hands move frantically. It looks like he tries to grab Alex by the shoulder. But Alex shoves his hand away, expression turning stone-cold. Even Julie feels a chill running down her spine. She shivers.

“Don’t touch me!” Alex snaps, loud enough for even Julie to hear.

Willie obeys and drops his hands. He’s still talking, though. But his attempts are in vain. Alex doesn’t listen anymore.  

“You’re wrong,” he says loudly. He sends Willie one last, scornful look, then turns and storms off.

“Alex, wait!” Willie shouts. But it’s too late. Alex is already gone.

Willie doesn’t run after Alex. It’s pointless. Plunging his hands into the pockets of his shorts, Willie tilts his head back and heaves a sigh. He mouths something to the overcast sky. Even without lipreading skills, Julie has an educated guess as to what. After a moment, he turns and trudges away, heading back to the HGC office.

At the same time, the door to the diner swings open and Alex enters. Julie and the guys quickly scramble apart, trying to appear inconspicuous. Julie twiddles her thumbs, Reggie whistles a melody, and Bobby chips some varnish off the table.

Unsurprisingly, it’s not working.

Alex arrives by their table, still tight-lipped and white-faced. His hands are balled into shaking fists. For a moment, he stands there, surveying their guilty faces. He snorts coldly.

“How much did you hear?” he asks as he plops down on the vacant seat. “And don’t give me that crap,” he adds, voice seething with anger as Bobby opens his mouth. “You guys aren’t subtle.”

Pierced by guilt, Julie lowers her gaze and drops her act. Reggie and Bobby do the same. Dutifully, they mumble their apologies. Alex acknowledges their words with a huff.

“I should have known,” he says bitterly. Placing his elbows on the tabletop, he buries his face in his hands and groans. “I’m such an idiot! I really thought he– but he just–” He groans again.

Julie isn’t sure what he means. So, she casts a quizzical look at Bobby, who just shrugs. He’s just as lost.

“Alex,” Julie says softly. On instinct, she reaches out. She wants to comfort him. She wants to rub his shoulder or pat his arm. But the way Alex shoved Willie’s hand away makes her pause. What if it causes him more stress? Disheartened, she drops her hand again. “I know we haven’t known each other for long. So I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. Not with me, that is. But just know, you always can. You’re my friend, Alex. And I care about you. I’m … I’m here for you.”

“Yeah, man,” Reggie agrees. “We all are.”

“Absolutely,” Bobby declares.

Alex lets out a wet sniffle. He takes a deep breath. And then another. And another before finally lifting his head. His eyes are teary, but the ghost of a smile passes his face. It’s wobbly yet grateful. And it’s gone soon. Exhaling slowly, Alex shakes his head.    

“I really should have known,” he says again. “I should have seen it coming.”

Julie, Bobby, and Reggie exchange worried looks.

“Seen what coming?” Bobby asks curiously.

Alex scoffs. “You guys know I’ve liked Willie for some time.”

They all nod. Even Julie.

 “And, I dunno, I always assumed– or hoped that it was kinda mutual. That he liked me back. So when he came here and asked to talk in private, I hoped he’d wanted to… I don’t know…  hang out after work or something like this.”

“But he didn’t?” Reggie asks.

Alex mutely shakes his head.

“Alex,” Julie coaxes gently, “What happened? Why did Willie want to talk to you?”

Alex moves his head to look her dead in the eye. Anger and pain are etched into his features. Suddenly, Julie is overcome by a terrible, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“He accused me of pushing Luke down the stairs!”