VII. FOREVER YOUNG

"How could you not tell me you were dating a ghost?" Flynn spoke through a mouthful of popcorn, nudging her elbow into Dahlia's side. The Molina girl had been contently munching on a Hershey bar, her eyes fixated on the screen in front of them, though she began to choke on air as soon as the question tumbled off of Flynn's lips.

The three girls were currently huddled up on Julie's bed, because it was bigger and cozier than Dahlia's—which was an opinion Dahlia did not agree with, though that was not the subject of the matter. She and the other two girls were binging a bunch of Disney classics, Dahlia's silver laptop on its lowest brightness as the volume was on the highest setting.

The device had been firmly planted against a stack of pillows and books for a better view, though it had been horribly balanced as it swayed with every shuffle on the bed.

The room was calmingly quiet, the only sound being the laptop's volume and the tuned out chewing and crinkling of wrappers. So far, Dahlia managed to stay in the exact same position as they flew through Frozen, Toy Story, The Little Mermaid, and she had been exceedingly comfortably wedged between a pillow and Flynn's shoulder as they had been halfway through Tangled.

They may or may not have talked through over half of every movie...but in their defense, they were catching up—especially given their current situation with the Molina's new garage residents.

It was nearing two in the morning, though the girls were still hyped up with a seemingly endless amount of energy. The crumpled up cans of soda certainly added onto their sugar rush, the popcorn and candy there for a traditional girl's night.

Everything was going perfectly, and Dahlia could feel her eyes closing as she rested her side further on Flynn's arm, and she was just about dozing off, chocolate bar still in hand, when Flynn had asked one of the most absurd questions she had ever heard.

Flynn repeated her question like it was the most natural thing she had ever said, "since when were you and orange beanie a thing?" she said again, as Dahlia suddenly reminded herself breathing was a thing as she gulped and took a long breath before meeting Flynn's eyes.

"...What?" she said, her candy bar and sleep long forgotten as she turned her body fully to face Flynn, her jaw dropped as she blinked incredulously.

Flynn raised an eyebrow, as if she was expecting to hear more about the situation. Dahlia could faintly see Julie pause the movie in the corner of her eye, and the younger sister shuffled closer to Flynn, resting her head on her best friend's shoulder as Dahlia suddenly had two of the most intimidating stares directed her way.

Dahlia furrowed her brows as she watched their amusement rise, crossing her arms as she rolled her shoulders back. She had tried to appear unbothered, but her body had betrayed her with the bashful blush creeping on her cheeks.

"Luke?" She questioned a moment later for confirmation, noting the way Flynn nodded her head and leaned in slightly, preparing to receive whatever information Dahlia would let slip, "no way...we aren't even friends. Just writing partners." Dahlia decided, grateful her mouth hadn't betrayed her like the way her brain scrambled as if it had short circuited.

"Could've fooled me," Flynn teased, "especially with how red your face is," the girl pointed out with a slight smirk as her and Julie began to snicker.

"We aren't even friends!" Dahlia attempted to reason, her head in her hands as Julie and Flynn continued to laugh.

"You guys are impossible." she muttered a moment later, head in her hands as she crinkled her eyes open to glance at the pair besides her.

"Yeah, but you love us." Julie added, a smile creeping up on Dahlia's cheeks as she nodded.

"Unfortunately."

Julie pretended to be wounded at her sister's comment, dramatically clutching her heart as she fell back onto her sheets with a soft giggle. Flynn followed seconds after, both girls writhing on Julie's bed as Dahlia looked down at them, playfully rolling her eyes. She fed into their shenanigans for a moment, until the pair of best friends were pulling each other back up.

Julie grabbed a long forgotten wrapper of a Twix bar, crumbling it into a ball with her palm as she flung it in Dahlia's direction.

In a regular circumstance, Dahlia would've caught the wrapper as she threw one back, starting a food fight that she was bound to lose when Julie and Flynn eventually teamed up on her.

Instead, either Julie's aim had missed completely, or all three girls were seeing things when it seemed to go right through her palm. Dahlia blinked, rubbing her eyes as she grabbed the candy bar under her hand with no trouble.

All three girls froze, too scared to make any sudden movements. Dahlia felt her skin tingle with discomfort, time seemingly having slowed down as she swallowed thickly. Her hand jerked away from the object, her hand trembling slightly as she rapidly blinked.

Her eyes slowly looked up to Julie and Flynn, who's reactions were mirroring her own.

"I think I've officially succumbed to the effects of sleep deprivation." Dahlia said, voice wavering.

Julie, however, in an effort to raise Dahlia's spirits, began to laugh like a madman.

"My aim is so terrible! Look Flynn, I missed her hand completely," Julie said, nudging Flynn's shoulder as both girls broke into an extremely unconvincing laughter.

Dahlia was seriously considering purchasing her family some acting lessons.

However, the oldest Molina girl wasn't one for dramatics, and there must've been some logical reason as to why the wrapper went through her hand, right?

Dahlia quickly scurried out of her sister's bedroom, making a beeline for her room as she slammed the door shut and locked it—just to be safe.

She then proceeded to grab everything in her room, making sure that her hand would not make the same mistake.

When it didn't, it calmed Dahlia's nerves, but not by much. Her chest still heaved with every anxious breath she took, and her hand wavered over every item before she grabbed it for reassurance. It didn't make sense, unless her body had suddenly decided to defy the laws of physics for a few seconds, which wasn't likely.

Dahlia flipped face first into her bed, her comforter doing a slack job at muffling her irritated groan. It was at that moment she heard a noise, one that her ears recognized as the sound that signaled one of the ghosts' arrival via teleporting.

She lifted her head wearily, and her brown eyes locked with the blonde's a few feet away from her. Dahlia had expected to see Luke, with his stupidly annoying grin plastered over his face as if he found genuine enjoyment in ticking her off, but instead she recognized the tall figure in front of her to be Alex.

He was standing in the middle of her room, his hands resting comfortably in his pockets as he bounced back and forth on his heels. He looked around the room for a moment, before finally noticing that Dahlia was in the room—not in Julie's like Reggie had said.

Alex wasn't snooping, but Luke had mentioned that Dahlia's room was totally awesome and he wanted to check it out for himself. He decided he'd be in and out, and Dahlia decided she'd eventually need to give them a firm talk on boundaries and privacy, since locking a door did nothing when she was in the presence of three teenage ghosts.

"Hey," the drummer greeted when their eyes met, though he was quick to notice Dahlia's distress. He quickly realized her distress wasn't caused by him randomly appearing in her room, she looked much to worried for it to be about that.

"Are you okay?" He asked, shuffling to sit on the edge of Dahlia's bed, almost toppling off of it and rolling on the floor if he moved the wrong way, but he was hesitant to sit any closer to her in fear of making her uncomfortable.

The brunette looked at him, studying his expression. She hadn't known much about Alex, she didn't know if she knew him well enough yet to tell him about the freakish event she had just experienced.

Then again, being a ghost was freakish enough, too.

With a heavy sigh, she sat up, still avoiding the blonde's eyes as she he awkwardly sat on the furthest edge of her bed. It was evident their lack of past conversations was coming back to bite them, as the room quickly filled with a silence that was rested between comfortable and awkward; as Alex glanced around at the knick-knacks she had scattered everywhere.

"Alex, you know you don't have to sit in the corner, right? You can come over here if you want," she offered, smiling slightly as she patted the spot besides her, not missing how his blue eyes sparkled.

"I don't want to make you feel weird, I don't really know you that well," he interjected, and Dahlia shrugged.

"How else are we supposed to get to know each other if you're all the way over there like I'm the plague?"

Dahlia's tone was playful, and Alex breathed in relief. Okay, they were moving away from the awkward territory and towards the friendly territory as he let a hesitant chuckle flow from his lips.

"If you're sure," he agreed, scooting his way over, doing it slowly enough to give Dahlia time to change her mind in case she thought it was too weird.

When Alex got himself settled besides her, Dahlia flopped down on the mattress, her brunette wavy hair flowing out behind her as she sighed.

Alex had never had too many friends that were girls when he was alive...correction, he hadn't had any—but he was good enough at reading people to tell something was definitely bothering Dahlia.

"What's wrong?" He asked, running a hand through his hair as he fiddled with the strap of his fanny-pack as he awaited a reply.

"It's nothing," she waved off, and this time it was Alex's turn to dramatically flop against the mattress.

"I've done my fair share of pretending everything's okay when it's not, and I swear that I'll be the last person to judge," he assured, and Dahlia raised an eyebrow, studying him to tell if he was being genuine, or simply polite out of courtesy.

"I just...Julie threw a candy wrapper at my hand when we were watching a movie and the wrapper..." Dahlia paused, swallowing as she felt her mind swirl.

Even talking about it to someone as bizarre as a ghost made her feel like she was loosing it. She closed her mouth, suddenly realizing that she'd most likely freak Alex out and throw the chance of them ever becoming friends out the window.

However, he placed his hand on top of hers, surprisingly not going through as she felt his cool skin, noticing his friendly smile that encouraged her to continue.

"The wrapper... it went right through my hand, like I was transparent or something," Dahlia spoke quickly, hoping that the faster she said meant the less true it was.

Alex widened his eyes.

Only ghosts were supposed to be transparent, and Dahlia was definitely not a ghost. Plus, he and the guys had been slowly getting better at picking up objects.

The drummer wasn't exactly sure how to respond. He had prepared himself decently enough for whatever Dahlia was going to say, but he had absolutely not expected to hear that.

The drummer ran a hand through his hair as he licked his lips, trying to think of what to say, watching as Dahlia awaited a reply.

He could read her expressions all too well—he noticed the initial anxiety that came from her voice when she told him, and the regret that was slowly forming on her face as he had yet to reply.

"Is even possible?" Alex finally managed to squeak out.

Dahlia shrugged.

"I don't know, maybe your ghost powers are rubbing off on me," Dahlia suggested, though her tone made it clear that she was joking.

The drummer watched as Dahlia sighed, rolling over so they were face to face.

"What about Willie? The guy from earlier I told you about, maybe he knows something," Alex spoke, the idea filling Dahlia with somewhat hope, "look, I can't promise anything...but maybe he can help us out."

He noticed the brunette's shoulders drop the tension as she gratefully beamed up at him, thanking him profusely for even a bit of hope that she could figure out what was going on.

She had a feeling that whatever had happened, had something to do with Alex and the rest of the band.

The two hadn't really spoken about anything paranormal after that, but rather focused on the present. Considering the two were generations apart, they connected almost immediately.

They had so much in common, from their favorite color, favorite bands, and celebrity crushes. Alex joked about Dahlia being an old soul, but he liked that he was able to relate with someone his age twenty-five years into the future.

Plus, Dahlia could also teach him a thing or two about modern times, starting with how to use a cell phone. Alex had thought it was the coolest thing ever, but he'd never admit that out loud.

Dahlia also showed Alex the magic of Netflix and other streaming services, and Alex was completely mesmerized by her laptop.

The two spoke until the sun began to rise, and Alex realized he had kept Dahlia up practically all night. The room fell silent as Alex convinced the girl to get some rest, and he'd be there in the morning to continue their conversation.

The silence was different than it had been when Alex first arrived, and Dahlia decided he was her favorite out of the band.

And although neither of them said anything, they could both tell this was the beginning of an amazing friendship.

Dahlia had eventually fallen asleep, her head against Alex's arm as he stayed there until he decided that she was in a deep enough sleep that if he moved she wouldn't stir. Alex felt comfortable enough that he probably would've fallen asleep, but ghosts don't need to sleep and he hadn't been particularly tired.

His mind flashed to his previous conversation with Luke, how the guitarist had spoken about Dahlia's bed like it was the most comfortable thing in the entire world.

Alex had originally scoffed, throwing a lighthearted remark that Luke was simply in awe of everything that had to do with Dahlia.

But speaking for himself, Luke was right. Dahlia's bed was the most comfortable thing in the world. Alex was grateful Dahlia let him stay there for a few hours, he needed the space away from his band mates and wasn't in the mood to go wandering throughout the streets again.

He felt Dahlia shift besides him, and he smiled. This was good. Life—or most appropriately, death—was good. If being a ghost meant befriending someone new and getting to lay on a bed that was much more comfortable than his own when he was alive, then he decided being a ghost wasn't all that bad.

***

Dahlia spent the weekend feeling zoned out. She hadn't spoken about what happened with Julie and Flynn—yet the girls hadn't treated her any differently. The fact Dahlia wasn't being treated unusually was comforting, though it didn't stop the worry that was plaguing her mind.

Maybe she had been so sleep deprived she imagined the whole thing, and that's why Julie nor Flynn said anything. That seemed like a good enough explanation, right?

Dahlia rubbed at her eyes. She was home alone, as Julie was at Flynn's, and her father had gone to drive Carlos to soccer practice.

It was early in the morning—early for her, at least. It was just before noon on Saturday, and Dahlia was stood in front of the fridge when she heard a familiar whooshing sound behind her.

The brunette immediately knew she was no longer alone, and turned around to see Luke with a grin on his face.

"Hey," Luke greeted, bouncing from side to side with excitement.

"Hi," Dahlia replied, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge.

She began to walk to the kitchen counter, with Luke following behind animatedly. Dahlia poured the juice into a glass cup when she spoke again.

"What's got you so excited?" Asked the brunette, and Luke let out a huge rush of air as he began to speak.

"You remember what today is?"

Dahlia looked at him blankly, tilting her head to the side.

"...Saturday?"

Luke's expression faltered slightly, but he quickly regained his excitement.

"No," he said, shaking his head as he hopped atop the kitchen counter and sat down, "it's writing day."

The Molina girl blinked.

"Writing day?" She asked in confusion.

"Yep," Luke replied, popping the 'p'. His reply didn't clear up much for Dahlia.

The brunette walked back to the fridge, placing the liquid into its rightful spot. She downed a sip of her drink as she walked to the dining room table, Luke a few steps behind her.

"What's writing day?" Dahlia asked after a moment.

"A day," Luke began, "for writing."

Dahlia rolled her eyes.

"No shit."

Luke made a face at Dahlia.

"No, I mean for songwriting. You and me. Remember our agreement?" The guitarist explained, fiddling with the rings on his fingers as he spoke.

Dahlia remembered—she hadn't forgotten. Still, she enjoyed toying with Luke.

"Hmm, no." She began, a slight smirk upon her lips, "zero clue what you're talking about."

"No," Luke said, his words followed by a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff—Dahlia wasn't sure, "I distinctly remember you agreeing."

"Did I?" Dahlia said, downing another sip of her orange juice.

"You did," Luke said, impatience clearly running through his veins as his leg bounced beneath the table.

Suddenly, the guitarist poofed out of the room. Dahlia was puzzled, though her confusion didn't last long as Luke suddenly reappeared, a journal and pencil in hand.

"Our last writing session was interrupted, if I remember correctly," Luke began with a cheeky grin, referring to when Ray and Carlos had come home early and Luke poofed out of the room as if they could see him.

Dahlia chuckled, nudging Luke's shoulder.

"And I wish they could interrupt again," she quipped, and Luke feigned a hurt expression as she grinned.

"Fine, be like that," Luke replied, a grin on his face as he sat besides Dahlia.

Dahlia scoffed as she felt Luke's shoulder against hers, but she didn't move away. Instead, she plucked Luke's pencil out of his hand and opened her notebook.

Luke was looking at her with excitement. When their eyes met, Luke cleared his throat and tried to fight his excited grin back. He attempted to play it cool, but Dahlia saw through it and found herself fighting a smile of her own.

***

Dahlia and Luke had written for hours. The morning air had morphed into one of the evening, the sky a twilight blue as the sun prepared to set.

The pair would be lying if they said they didn't enjoy their time together. They had written a new song—the title a work in progress, but Dahlia was proud of their work.

Luke seemed to share her excitement, peering over Dahlia's shoulder as they read over the song once more.

The notebook page was messy, Luke's handwriting harshly contrasting against Dahlia's. Some lyrics that didn't work with that song had been scribbled out—which is why Dahlia told Luke to use a pencil, not a pen—but she couldn't do much about the less than aesthetically pleasing paper.

"Our first song together," Luke beamed, "hopefully the first of many?"

The hopeful guitarist was giving Dahlia a cheeky grin, as she ruffled his hair.

"We'll see about that," she joked, watching as Luke began to flip through her songbook.

Dahlia froze up. None of the songs were too personal—no, she always ripped out her most personal songs and stuffed them in a box beneath her bed. However, she wasn't exactly huge on the idea of Luke looking through songs she had written years ago.

"Hey, don't go through those," she said, her hand reaching out to grab the notebook, but it was too late.

The one song she didn't want Luke to see, was the song he had been reading. An unfinished song she had written with her mother that she couldn't bring herself to finish.

The lyrics had grown dusty with time.

Luke's gaze scanned over the page, his eyes flickering to Dahlia's after a moment. She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"This is amazing," he raved, his blue eyes crinkled from his smile. "Why didn't you finish it?"

Dahlia averted her gaze from Luke, allowing a deep sigh to expel from her chest.

"My mom and I wrote it. It means a lot to me, I feel like I'd be stepping all over her if I finished it."

Luke blinked. His eyebrows furrowed with pity. The exact look Dahlia had seen time and time again for the last year, and she was sick of it.

"I don't think saying I'm sorry would help," the guitarist began, pleasantly shocking Dahlia, "but I'm glad you told me. You know if you ever want to finish it you can just ask me."

Luke's sincerity caught Dahlia off guard. She had never seen this side of Luke, and she liked it. Sure, their banter was enjoyable—but it was even better knowing there was another side to him, one she could tell he didn't bring out often.

"Thank you, Luke." She smiled softly at the guitarist, his blue eyes twinkling in a way they hadn't before.

"Yeah, don't mention it," he replied, drumming his fingers against the notebook as he shifted closer to Dahlia, placing it in her hand.

Dahlia hummed, flipping to a clean page. She shifted in her position, letting a yawn slip past her lips.

"Don't tell me your getting tired on me, Molina," Luke spoke, as Dahlia shook her head.

"Not tired, just bored," she teased, as Luke playfully rolled his eyes.

There was a beat of silence as Luke's eyes raked over Dahlia's figure. She was in sweats and an old band t-shirt, yet Luke still found himself gawking at her beauty. He couldn't tell her that though, and to him, it was perfectly normal to find his songwriting partner pretty.

The guitarist cleared his throat. "If you're tired, I can always come back tomorrow. If you don't have plans."

Dahlia shrugged.

"I'm not tired. Promise," she sighed out, biting her inner cheek as Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Are you saying you're actually enjoying my company?" He asked, jaw dropping in faux excitement, eliciting an over dramatic groan from the girl.

Dahlia fought back a smile at Luke's antics. She knew if she agreed with his words, he wouldn't let her live it down. She only hoped that he understood the undertones of her reply.

"You wish," she said, pursing her lips.

Luke chuckled, shaking his head at Dahlia's teasing response. He was playing along with their usual banter, but he couldn't help but hope there was a double meaning to her words.

It was easy for Dahlia to convince Luke to continue writing. As the evening turned into night, the two continued to write, their words flowing effortlessly. They bounced ideas off each other, their creativity fueling each other's inspiration. The room was filled with laughter and music, creating an atmosphere that was both electric and serene.

Time seemed to pass by in a blur, and before they knew it, the clock struck midnight. Dahlia stretched her arms above her head, feeling the fatigue starting to seep into her bones.

"I think it's time for us to call it a night," she said with a yawn, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Luke nodded in agreement. Ghosts didn't get tired, but he knew Dahlia needed her rest. He closed his notebook and carefully placed it on the coffee table.

Dahlia sat up, stretching as she yawned. Tiredness always brought out some level of vulnerability in Dahlia, as she turned to Luke with glazed, sleepy eyes.

"Thanks for today, Luke," she said sincerely, looking at him with warmth in her eyes. "I haven't had this much fun while writing in a long time."

Luke grinned, ruffling Dahlia's hair. He tried to hide his giddiness, but the shaggy haired brunette was never great at hiding his feelings.

"Good. So this'll be a regular thing, then?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah." She replied softly, his twinkling eyes widening when at her words.

Luke didn't say much after that, aside from bidding Dahlia a good night, which consisted of yet another hair ruffle and a 'goodnight, rockstar'.

Dahlia pretended to hate the nickname, just like she claimed to hate the other nicknames he had given her.

But did she really hate it?

No, not really. Not at all.

— argentsires
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