𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓲𝔁
— 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚗 —

𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓻 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 entirety of the McFadden laboratory, desperate to find an extra vile of liquid that had the potential to bring Casper back to life. And as the ghost endlessly reminded her that his father merely created one, she insisted on continuing the search; this was his only chance, and she refused to relinquish the rest of his life simply because of his own assumptions. But while doing so, she was unaware that she was searching relentlessly for more than just a way to help her friend. She was searching for everything that she would never again have, and the hope she would find after recovering a new bottle of the serum would lead her to believe that perhaps, one day, her parents would return.

And Casper knew it too.

"We should go back to the ballroom," Casper tells the girl, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as she flips through a trunk full of files and discarded papers. "Your brother is probably looking for you, we've been down her for quite a while."

Placing the papers back inside, Briar sighs and runs her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry Casper, I really wanted to help. Maybe you're right, maybe everything really is as it seems."

With a reassuring smile, he shakes his head, "I've come to terms with my existence, Briar, and I think it's time that you do the same."

The blonde plants herself on the floor, watching him as he sinks down in front of her. "I think sometimes I can't even do that for myself," she admits carefully. "I'm stubborn, I've been told— but why is it that I just can't seem to let go?"

"Because it feels as though the world is moving on, and you're the only person left that remembers what life was like when they were here." To hear Casper speak so honestly, Briar was nearly brought to tears. In her own experience, he had brought to attention the very thing she feared: the crushing weight of reality.

"I'm scared that I might forget," she confesses, her voice shaking as he stares into her watering eyes. "Is that horrible of me? To think that, even after everything they've done for me and all of my memories with them, I might forget about them too?"

"You could never be horrible, Briar," he closes his eyes, shaking his head and she places her hands in his— to search for the comfort that his touch always offered. "And letting go doesn't mean you'll forget, believe me. You'll find them in everything you do, but at least then you won't look for them everywhere you go. Briar, I . . . " he trails off, his voice cracking, "I wasted so much time holding on, locking myself away and allowing my consciousness to lie to me. I spent so long in the darkness that I had almost forgotten just how beautiful the world is."

He pauses, but doesn't dawdle for the sake of Briar. "Although they're gone, they will never truly leave you. I used to wake up some mornings and and feel like I'd never  make it through the day, let alone through all of eternity while wondering if my parents ever thought about me the way I thought about them— every second of every waking moment. Letting go doesn't mean leaving them behind, it means overcoming a mindset that tells you that there's no reason to continue. Things go wrong so that you learn to appreciate them when they're right. One day you will wake up and you'll feel as though you're in a completely different place . . . your heart is calm, your vision is clearer, and you're at peace; at peace with where you've been, with what you've been through, and at peace with where you're heading."

His words dripped so delicately from his lips like warm honey, and convinced her of everything she needed to do— not because he was persisting, but because deep down she understood that the best decision for her was to move on.

With her bottom lip trembling, Briar wipes the tears from her eyes and chuckles lightly. "You know, when I was younger, my parents used to tell me stories about the supernatural and paranormal. My mother liked to think that there was a possibility of existence for everything, and was always so open to the idea that there were things in the vast beyond that we could never fully comprehend. How amazing is it that, after all this time, I finally found out that she was right?" Looking up to catch Casper's eye, she sniffles. "She would have liked you. You're everything she ever could have imagined a ghost to be."

Leaning forward, she places her forehead on his as he softly wipes her tears away.

"Breathe easy now, Briar," he murmurs, "you don't have to carry other people's heavy anymore."

---

By the time Briar and Casper had returned to the ballroom, the blonde was surprised to find that Marshal was preoccupied; not by his search for cleaning supplies, but by the girl's newfound friend who sat across from her brother at the dining room table. Upon finding the two, Briar mumbled under her breath to Casper, the scene before her was exactly the opposite of what she had expected to find.

"Before you go, Briar," Casper stops her, pulling the girl out of Clayton's line of vision, "I have something to ask you. Is there something between the two of you?"

"I . . . I'm not sure," she releases a heavy breath, unsure of how to respond. "But I care for him. He's genuine, and is certainly different than what I expected."

Before Casper had the opportunity to further the conversation, the girl's brother heard her from the next room over. "Briar, who are you talking to?"

Quickly stepping into sight as Casper goes transparent, Briar attempts to play her cards smoothly. "Actually, I was talking to myself. I heard the two of you conversing, and I was worried of what might be said . . . for instance, I hope my old photo albums haven't been pulled out of storage yet."

"Nonsense," Marshall laughs, waving his hand as if he would never do something such as that— but, in fact, he had considered it. "Your friend stopped by to see you, and I was keeping him company while you were missing."

Taking a seat at the table, Briar gives Clayton a smile, "I'm surprised you stopped by. Why, exactly, is that?"

Her brother pulls away from the table, "I believe that's my cue to leave." Marshall places a chaste kiss upon Briar's forehead before turning to Clayton. "Feel free to stop by anytime, it was nice meeting you."

By the time her brother was out of sight, Clayton had already began to answer Briar's question. "Well," he rubs the back of his neck, "I just wanted to . . . to check on the cookies and see how they turned out."

She gestures to the platter of baked goods on the table, furrowing her eyebrows, "They turned out nicely. Was that the only reason you came by?"

Casper hesitantly moves into the dining room, lingering behind Briar as Clayton sighs. He hoped so desperately that his assumptions weren't correct, but he already knew that they were. It was only a matter of time until this very instant would happen, but the ghost didn't think that it would take place so soon.

"No actually," the boy grins, "it's not. In fact, I wasn't even thinking about the cookies, I was thinking about you. You're so different than anyone I've ever met before, and it's crazy to think that I've known you for barely two days."

"What are you saying, Clayton?" Broad questions, resting her hands in her lap as his gaze finally finds hers.

"I have feelings for you, Briar."

Briar was now being forced to face the facts of reality; her life was changing. She had to open her eyes and realize that this is reality— fairytales don't exist, and she surely can't alter the ending in which she receives, no matter how many times she wished upon a shooting star, and Casper had just showed her that.

But now Casper, too, was beginning to realize something that he hadn't before.

Maybe it was the wind that day— or the beautiful sun that rested just beyond the horizon, and blushed the clouds with pastel colors of pink and orange that made everything else seem so vibrant. Or maybe it was her beach-wave hair that fell past her shoulders, and rested against her chest. Maybe it was her naturally flushed cheeks, or the freckles that dotted her button nose, or her longing heart that she practically kept on her sleeve. Or maybe it was the fact that he was in love with the idea of love.

He had to convince himself of that, although he knew that he was lying to himself.

And while Casper stares down at the panicking girl, who's hands are shaking and breathing is ragged, he notices something he didn't before. He noticed that, although she seemed overwhelmed by Clayton's newfound announcement, there was an underlying emotion in her eyes that he had never seen before. And he could only assume that it meant the very thing that he feared . . . that Briar, too, had feelings for the boy ahead of her.

So as he lets out a deep sigh, he tries to make sense of it all— the tingles that erupted throughout him when she touched him, or the overwhelming feelings that were brought when she was near him. He tried to understand how he could've mistaken something for the best day of his life; but then he found that he had wanted it to be.

Casper McFadden had wanted someone for so long— to have what so many others had together, a person to love every day and who would love them unconditionally in return. He had attached himself to a feeling, and denied anything that dared to ruin it. So when Clayton and Briar met, and his heart had broken, it wasn't because Briar was his destiny and she was falling for another. It was because he had somehow told himself that she was supposed to be his, because he was the only person that seemed to understand her.

As they were wandering from the manor to the street that fateful night after she had moved in, he had been desperate for something different. He had been desperate for her, the one he was supposed to be with— although he didn't know that yet.

Perhaps Briar Hasson was a dream the the ghost was never truly meant to have.

Giving her up, and doing as he instructed her to do, ripped at Casper's chest and made his throat burn. But he wanted to see a gorgeous smile on Briar's face every day, and if that meant he had to give up his feelings for her, he'd do it every single time.

As he leaves the dining room with his head bent, he wanted so desperately to change his mind, to go back to the second that he had told himself 'she is the one you've been searching for'. He wanted to tell his past self to not allow his heart to fall in too deep, because now he was facing the cold, bitter consequences of his decisions.

And yet his unbeating heart told him the everlasting truth, Briar was meant for him, and his feelings for her were so much deeper than care. Although he had only known her for a short time, it was merely a number. The truth reflected that he had fallen in love with her the moment he had looked into her eyes.

Casper loved her— so much, in fact, that he'd do anything to guarantee that she'd be able to relish in that same love.

Casper McFadden loved Briar Hasson.

He loved her so much that he let her go.

_______

❝ why oh why am i crying
in the club? ❞