Matthew’s house isn’t a house at all.

It’s a small apartment, the one you associate with first years, messy and full of undone chores and empty cupboards.

Still, he offered to help so you’re in no place to judge.

Your eyes travel from the livingroom to Matthew, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, right by your side. Under the dim light, you notice how he’s a bit shorter than you, and how the sweater is big enough that you can’t exactly tell his body complexion. He has bags under his eyes too.

“You’re… like a ghost, aren’t you?” He asks, breaking the silence, and as if this situation wasn’t outrageous and ridiculous enough, he looks calm. And you feel anything but that. You’d be screaming or trying to catch this on your phone. Or both, probably.

“That would seem so,” you say, taken aback by the sound of your own voice, how loud it seems compared to Mathew’s. “Don’t you…” you struggle with words, making a vague hand gesture about you. “Like… have any more questions? Because I do.”

“But surely nothing you can answer,” he says, shrugging and turns back to the kitchen.

“I…” you start to complain, but he’s right, you don't, neither of you do. Still, it’s all a bit weird, you don’t even know each other, you’re a ghost in his house and currently asking for his help.

It has all happened to fast, hasn’t it?

You don’t know where to start, what to do. Matthew’s house is far from yours, but a lot closer to Uni, which is useful. You could probably tell him to take you there and try to communicate with your friends… that’d be weird though.

But maybe you’ll know what to do when you see Liz.

First, you gotta make friends with Matthew. You think that maybe you two go to the same Uni, since he was there late at night, but you guess you’ll have to ask that later, what should you say though? How to…

“Why do you need my help?” He asks, interrupting your thoughts as he checks the fridge. It’s not like he has any food in there anyways, just a bottle of ketchup and a half eaten slice of pizza.

“There’s something I…" you start, uneasily. He doesn’t look bothered by it though, just keeps filling the kettle with water. “There’s this friend of mine.”

You stop, unable to keep going due to knot in your throat.

“Okay…” he says, after a few seconds of awkward silence, pressing the button so the water will start to heat up.

“And I… I died before I could tell her something. Her name is Li… Elizabeth,” she hates it though, but Mathew doesn’t need to know that.

that’s a shame you hear, like a whisper behind your ear. And maybe Matthew forgot that you can hear his thoughts, although you’re glad that he’s not saying that out loud and with so much sarcasm, because you’d probably cry.

But he can’t actually control his thoughts, can he? And he’s kind of right. It is a shame.

“So you want me to tell her that for you?” He asks, seemingly unimpressed.

It’s unnerving.

“Well… yeah, I guess.” You whisper, looking down, feeling stupid. It’s important to you, why does he look like it’s nothing but a chore?

You sigh, trying to calm down. He offered you help. You have to let him, even though you don’t like him that much right now.

He’s with his back turned at you, slowly but methodically making himself some coffee.

“I know it’s kind of dull,” you mutter, trying to protect your own feelings if he does end up saying something like that. “But I think that’s my unfinished business, that’s why I didn’t die, maybe I need closure and…”

The rest of your sentence gets lost when Matthew twichs at that, dropping the kettle right on the kitchen table, hot water dripping from the cup he was going to use and also falling into his left arm and the floor.

Matthew falls on his knees, grunting in pain as he clutches his arm.

“Oh, shit,” you hear and you’re not even sure if it’s your own voice or Matthew’s, but immediately you kneel, trying to take a rag from the kitchen counter and-

You can’t.

It goes straight through your fingers. You kind of forgot.

It makes your chest hurt, but-

But Matthew’s there and in pain and you can’t just ignore that.

“You have to take that off.” You say quickly. And finally notice Matthew’s eyes, watery and full of something else you can't really place.

i can’t

“Matthew,” you repeat, refraining yourself from yelling. “Matthew, you have to put some cold water on that.”

He bites his lip and you don’t understand why he’s being so weird about this, not taking off his sweater is worth the pain of the burn?

He must be crazy.

“Matt,” you repeat, desperate, it almost hurts you too. You feel so helpless.

With trembling fingers he slowly rolls up his sleeve and you almost sigh in relief, that wasn’t so hard, was it?

He gets up immediately, lifting his arm and turning the tap on and…

And you stop, eyes glued to his left arm. The skin is bright red, thanks to the hot water, but there’s also scars. Just thin horizontal lines across his wrist.

Old and new, you don’t need to ask to know what kind of cuts those are.

He doesn’t look at you, just staring at the water falling on his forearm, breathing hard.

“Matt…” you start, unsure of your next words.

“Would you just shut up about this?” He says, voice harsh, effectively shutting you up. “I’ll help, okay? You don’t need to give me the look.”

You swallow, that’s not... you didn’t mean…

“And you can’t call me Matt.” He adds.

For a moment, there’s just the sound of water running filling the room.

What a fucked up situation.

Your mind goes back to the moment of you trying to help, trying to reach for Matthew.

There’s nothing else you can do, right? Help. You can’t help anyone else. You can’t tell Liz your feelings. You can’t be oblivious to Matthew’s scars, and why did he offer to help when… when he seems like he hates you already.

There’s absolutely nothing else you can do.

Then it hits you, like the dam finally broke.

“I died, didn’t I,” you ask quietly and then he turns, expression unreadable.

you’re never seeing your mom again, you’re never hearing another of Carmen’s jokes, or Mary’s stories, you’re never petting your dog again, you’re not finishing your career, getting a job, meeting your favourite band, getting married, travelling, eating new foods and concerts

you’re not getting new anything

You just died.