wilding

As he was walking the wide room, he breathed in.

He couldn't help but feel so insecure.

There was his jock cousin – sporting long shoulder-length hair – and a girlfriend. There were his well-adapted girl cousins cruising away at the drinks. His jubilant grandmothers were all gambling away on mahjong. A round table to the side of this large room, people talking about there.

Did he have a girlfriend?

All he could think about was he couldn't see himself fitting in here – this scenario. That he only felt the least bit secure in himself as observed his surroundings.

"Archie!"

His aunt called out to him. Sporting some sundress from a decade ago, he waved him over before proceeding to look back to his other aunts and uncles and a couple of grandmothers seated there chatting about. They were all busy chatting round the table. All he could hear was the muffled chatter of everybody.

Muffled voices and all.

He hated these scenarios in life.

In a trance-like state, he sat himself on a chair round the round table. As he observed them, he couldn't help but feel so heavy inside like he wasn't belonging there.

Did he belong there?

All he could think about was how not well-adjusted he was. His face, his cheeks, his skin, his voice, his – his sexuality.

"So," his aunt quizzed him enthusiastically. "What are your plans?"

"Uhm," he started, stuttering to his own words. He didn't know what to say, and as he was about to speak, mouth opening – he thought of telling a lie.

A white lie.

A little lie just to make them back off for the meantime.

"Uy!"

The college kid's face was close to his. He could feel his breath.

It was warm.

He pushed him away. He landed on his ass on the floor. The ghost could only stare down at him and look as the college kid, with a face full of chagrin from the pain at his bottom, massaged his ass.

"Aw," the college kid mumbled. Looking up, he saw the ghost mumble something under his breath – if he had any.

"Space," the ghost weakly growled at him. "Don't you know anything about space?"

"The moon," the college kid answered jokingly.

"Shut up!"

The college kid simply snickered at him. He then massaged his bum as he slowly stood up.

Looking him up, the ghost noticed the kid had changed his clothes. He was now sporting some very noticeable five o'clock shadow for an early twenty-something. With a fuzzy jacket to cover himself up and a thick pair of sweatpants to warm his jewels, he looked like some demented hipster kid. Those rainbow-colored bunnies on the jacket – a pink jacket certainly didn't help at all with the look. Whatever look that was.

"You look terrible," he stated absentmindedly all the while looking at him, as he walked around the abandoned house. The college kid looked back at him as he stood near the decaying countertop.

"You're the one who stuffed this ensemble," he sighed back at him. He grabbed the bag of junk food from over the countertop. He picked at the insides and ate. All they could hear with the silencing snow-covered surrounding and an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere was the sound of his breath and the muffled munching of chips coming from the college kid's mouth. The ghost sighed.

They needed to find food.

They needed new clothes.

They needed to get their shit together.

Life in the winter isn't easy, plus they were basically fugitives from the cold at this point. The nearest store was about a mile away, and even though Archie can walk miles in the cold – since he's dead – the kid can't.

"Hey," the kid said with a mouth full of munched-up chips. "When can you snag some food again?"

The ghost huffed to himself.

He was only able to bring back food last time before they found this abandoned house in the middle of nowhere because he was furious at the kid costing blame on him for putting him in the damned cold. To his own view, they never really had a choice but to run out of that winter home – especially, the kid.

Who the fuck hides in a winter home in the winter?

To the ghost, he was dumb. Sordidly dumb.

"Why don't you do it next time?"

The ghost said sarcastically. The kid could only shrug in response as he threw another chip in his mouth. He lifted himself up on the countertop, wincing at the cold, and went back to casually eating chips.

"You know," the ghost looked up at him from whatever space he was staring at before. "I've always been curious about this but have you ever thought about what you're gonna do after all this?"

The kid ignored him.

"You can't ignore me, kid. You have to one day face things or else you're gonna be paying for your whole life with this shtick you got yourself in."

"Don't you think I don't know that?"

The kid dropped the bag on the countertop and jumped down on the floor and walked to the couch where they've been sleeping and where the ghost was sitting. He sighed. The ghost simply observed him.

At first, he said all of those things in irritation.

In spite.

But he knew how difficult this was all for the college kid. He knew how difficult it was to get your life together at such a young age. Everyone was out there enjoying their own lives, while he couldn't. He knew what it meant. Other people know what they want.

He just knew them as lucky.

"I," he started but it sounded more like some incoherent mumble. He then closed his mouth when he felt that he couldn't say it. All those what-ifs and how-dos.

"You don't know what to do," the ghost said softly. Almost like a whisper in the wind but the kid heard it and simply looked down on the pale gray vinyl floors.

"Who could?"

The boy just asked but it came more like a cry.

"I'm sorry," the ghost said, looking away from the college kid.

"Did you know what to do before you know—?"

"Oh," he just replied not knowing what to say. Truth be told, the ghost didn't know what to do as well. He always had some quip about himself.

Insecure kid, insecure future.

Well, the future is always elusive. Who could know?

"Hey," the kid was looking to his side at him. Looking concerned, the kid nudged him hoping his right hand didn't pass through him. It didn't. He was feeling intensely again.

He observed the same thing when they were out raiding a nearby store for food yesterday.

Chips, soft drinks, fizzy juice — the ghost grabbed all of what he could from the food racks as the kid tried to distract the cashier on where he could run off to.

"Runaway?"

The cashier was looking at him like he was crazy. In retrospect, some random college kid asking him where's the best place he could run out to is probably some punk experiment or some ploy to stash his focus out while some guy snagged whatever they wanted to steal from the store. He guessed the latter.

But he couldn't help but feel that it was something else. The way the kid spoke was like he was begging for help in a way. Acting, maybe. But he felt it was more than that.

"If you run away," the cashier folded his arms over the counter. "I'd have to call the cops."

Looking skeptical, the kid placed his right elbow on the counter. Coming up close to the cashier's face, he said, "Call the coppers, go ahead."

Raising his hands up for the cashier guy to see, "I'm not plotting anything here."

He smiled at him. It was cute. A college-age kid trying to outsmart him, for the cashier guy; it won't work.

"So," he came closer to the kid. "Your friend is probably pocketing chips and shit back there while you're here to distract me from looking over–" he pointed towards a small computer screen with grayscale windows on certain angles of the store, "–that surveillance screen there where I could capture your friend nabbing on repeat if I'd want to."

The kid smirked at him. He bent forward close enough for the cashier guy to feel his breath on his face.

"Go ahead," he dared him staring straight into his eyes. "Go look."

The ghost could see that the kid's got guts in him.

Guts were needed in this situation, especially since they were shoplifting right now. Well, the ghost was, but it was for both of them. He's basically an accessory to the crime here. And another matter is that the kid is making everything look suspicious — too suspicious that he's being a bigshot without a whole lot of shot for him to fall back on.

The ghost just sighed.

He observed them carefully. He didn't want to cops involved. The kid's already in jeopardy being a runaway foreigner.

How crude luck he had when he has those dice things with him too.

Going back to the counter, the cashier guy did go look back but became shocked as he stared at what he was seeing. Out of the ordinary in the screen—

Floating bags of chips.

Floating on air as if someone was holding them but no one was there.

His eyes grew wide. He came closer as those said bags floated forward across the aisle as he just stared in disbelief.

"What the—"

"Fuck?"

The cashier guy looked at him, wide-eyed and his mouth open wide. He just stared at the college kid in disbelief as the college kid only looked at him smugly. A flesh-eating grin on his face, he just looked back to the cashier guy.

A loud, crispy sound of a bag of food dropping was heard inside the store.

The cashier guy's whipped immediately to that direction. He then ran as fast as he could to that place.

This must be some trick, he thought as his foot slipped towards the frozen section.

He found nothing in particular. Nothing odd. Just a weirdly ordinary rack of food items, with bags of nuts, chips, the usual items. Nothing seemed out of order or anything.

No floaters.

None.

He sighed. He didn't know what to feel.

Should he be relieved?

Should he be confused?

He glanced back at the college kid on the counter. He's still there. He's still there playing with the lollipops. He looked innocent enough but looking innocent didn't really guarantee it for him since the kid obviously knew something was up earlier.

He narrowed his eyes at him. The kid just simply ignored his stare and just played with the lollipop rack.

"Pink," he mumbled to himself as he felt the cashier guy go back to behind the counter. "Yellow's lemon—"

"What was that about?"

The cashier guy looked pissed. The kid could only smile. The ghost just simply looked around as he left the junk food back in the rack. He figured that there'd be enough time later to snag them right up again if the college kid could just ask a question without acting like some bigshot idiot.

The cashier guy glanced back towards the surveillance screen — nothing. Nothing was happening.

"What are you doing?"

The kid just smiled like he was being punked by the cashier guy. He just simply went on playing with the lollipops on the rack, not even looking up at him.

"Nothing," the kid just raised his hands. He then looked up, "you're the one keeping on saying shit."

"I saw— you said—"

"Fuck?"

The kid teased him a bit. He was pushing his luck. One speed dial and the cops could be on their way. He was enjoying this too much for himself.

"Well," the cashier guy looked him straight in the eye. "Fuck— what the hell are you?"

The kid became puzzled when the cashier just simply fell back on himself as if he saw something behind him. He looked back and saw the ghost just carrying an entire supply of junk food – chips, candy, fizzy drinks – you name it.

"All those?"

The kid asked the ghost. Were they not grabbing anything healthy like real food. Those were all junk for him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to survive on junk alone especially in the winter. It was freezing and they needed meat, or something real.

"No meat, or—"

"Look, asshole," the ghost said irritated. The cashier screamed. The kid figured that the guy just heard an out-of-body voice from the ghost. And the fact that he was talking to something he couldn't see was scaring the living crap out of him.

Another scream.

This time, a whimper followed it. The kid just sighed and his lips turned up slightly when the ghost just simply sighed, opened the door, and went out. An indicator siren sounded as he pulled the door, and the kid just followed.

Glancing back, it must've been traumatizing for him. Seeing all that.

That must've been tough.

He followed him out.

"I need meat, you know."

He did.

It was winter.

He couldn't survive on chips and fizzy drinks all winter. He needed warm things inside him like real meat and mashed potatoes, or something.

"Where though?"

The ghost asked him. He couldn't tell if the question sounded more mocking or more genuine. He felt it was more mocking.

Shit, he thought. I didn't get an address where to go.

"Yeah, asshole," the ghost just carried all the junk as he walked ahead of him. "Where are we gonna stash these all up?"

Shit.

He didn't know.

He only ended up on that vacant property before because there was an open field behind and he peeked onto every single one and found one there. Plus the curtains were open so he could see everything.

Were they going to do that again?

"Hey," he called out. They were quite far enough from everyone and the suburbs were a good mile away from them. The store was pretty remote that it could've been some indie horror location for all anybody cared. "Where'd we put the bag?"

"Bus stop!"

Before they went out there, they became stranded at a bus stop. They found an odd bus stop.

Looking like something out of the Stone Age, it was warm — fairly. At least it was warm. The surrounding landscape was just desolate snow and dried-out trees.

Typical winter views.

He could've enjoyed this.

This was such a nice view of things. He liked how everything looked.

It looked peaceful and calm.

He observed the ghost walking in front of him. He looked so young and somber in the nighttime.

A snowy nighttime.

It was eerie and odd. It all felt surreal in a distantly stark way. The snow insulated even the sound of their feet. The somber ambient lighting of the posts felt eerie and strange but also homely. It felt like home.

He wondered if—

An empty bottle hit him on the head.

His senses came back.

"Look," the ghost started as he stood up and went for the bag of tortillas. He bent over and the kid just simply looked him up as he did. "If you're just gonna zone out like an idiot every time, I have to ask something."

"What?"

"If you have no plans," he started as he popped open the tortillas. "Will you go back to your relatives in Sydney?"

Pause.

Silence.

"It's better if you came back to your folks there, you know."

Silence.

All the college kid did was stare in the space at his feet. Socks that were in the hamper that he was wearing. It wasn't even his. Shoes too.

What did he wanna do in life?

The ghost could only look at him through the corner of his eye. Like most dead people, he knew what it felt like. Dead people have more regrets than living people do.

He felt that way too when he was just out of college. A crisis in what you're gonna do in life.

Quarter-life crisis.

He walked slowly towards him and sat beside him again, picking up the bottle and tossing it behind the couch. He looked at him — stared at him, and just sat there.

"I'm sorry this happened but," he took a deep breath before he continued. He felt stupid. He couldn't inhale since he's dead but felt like he could for a while. But he just let it pass, and went on to continue.

"You have to make a choice."

Pause.

"You have to either go back to your family and then, you could start being an adult."

"Doesn't sound like a choice when there's no other option."

They settled in their silence. The kid simply bowed and staring at his feet. The ghost staring past him into the shabby look of the house they're in. The whole living room being a complete mess — their litter and the dust and leftover items already present before they got there making the whole ambiance of the abandoned home quite lonely.

Very lonely.

"I guess," the ghost opened. "Life is just lonely."

He sighed.

"Even the choices are too."

He simply tossed a few tortilla chips in his mouth and settled with the silence. The kid couldn't answer. He couldn't answer for him.

He was dead.

It was a sobering fact that life is just for living people. Dead people don't make any decisions in life, especially the life of living people.

The kid sighed.

"I'll go back."

"Yeah," the ghost mumbled. He tried to smile for the kid, but the kid wasn't looking. He was just staring into space.

"I'm sorry."