Blurred

"Oh my God! ARTHUR!"

The tiny blond hears the scream, but it sounds so faint, and more like a whisper. Coughing, he glimpses red spray into the air as white figures begin to crowd around him. He doesn't remember this many people being around when he was playing in the yard a moment ago, but maybe he hadn't been paying attention… Eyes feeling a lot like those pails of water he sometimes carries out to the garden in the summer, the boy's eyes shutter, then still, even as a voice begs:

"Stay with me Arthur, stay with me Arthur, stay with me, Arthur..."

XxXxX

He comes to in a circus themed room, tucked between scratchy sheets with something unyielding and scary stuck down his throat. Waking up a little more, Arthur feels terror creep up on him as he realizes he's alone and it's dark and it's cold and the jungle cats look a lot scarier in the shadows then they do with light beaming on them. Beginning to struggle, he catches someone in the corner of his eye and looking closer he sees something funny.

It's a nurse, but she looks like those ones from the old movies his brother Will's really gotten into recently and she's fuzzy? Or maybe it's just his eyes, they do feel pretty crusty. She smiles at him and motions for him to still, entrapped, Arthur obeys. At the sight of him listening, she grins a bit more her faded red lips looking out of place as her very white hand skims over his head.

"I'll get a doctor for you, sweetie," she tells him.

Arthur isn't sure how it'll feel to nod with the tube-thing in his throat, so he tries to convey that he understands with a very long blink. She laughs at this and with one last smile, walks without a sound out the door. Arthur waits there a few minutes, but he's still tired and his throat's getting really itchy. Unable to stand another moment, he squirms under his sheets kicking off the too big socks slipped over his feet and manages to make some sort of choking noise around the tube.

Almost immediately, a nurse comes into the room. Her skin is refreshingly dark and her cartoon-adorned scrubs sharp in contrast to the darkness surrounding her. She looks at him with awe and tears glistening in her eyes. "You're awake!" she cries, hurrying over to a phone she calls for a doctor and then comes to his side.

"Oh, your mum and brothers are going to be so happy Arthur! Just wait, you'll be getting all sorts of presents I bet!" she tells him as she squeezes his hand, warming his fingers up nicely.

A moment later, a wrinkly man with a stethoscope around his gobbler-neck stands in the doorway. "Arthur!" he exclaims. Coming to the nurse's side, he says to her, "Let's see if we can't take the tube out."

"Of course," the nurse says and together they gently coax it out of Arthur making him sputter, gag, and cry in the end.

"I want my mummy!" he hiccups, throat dry and painful.

"Of course, love," the nurse soothes, petting his hair.

Feeling quite put-out, Arthur sniffles. "Why didn't the other nurse tell you I woke up?" he demands. "Why didn't she tell you to call my mummy?"

The doctor and nurse share a bewildered glance. "What? Another nurse?" the doctor mutters. "Aren't you the only one over here Shelly?"

"I-I thought I was…" the nurse says.

"She was dressed up like those nurses from old movies, her lips were colored red and she was really good at being quiet," Arthur offers up after sucking on an ice chip the doctor had given him just seconds before.

"I think you had a bit of a dream, love." Shelly smiles. "We don't have any nurses like that."

Frowning, Arthur grumbles, "I saw her, I did!"

"Of course you did lovely," The nurse coos, stroking his arm and Arthur might have felt comforted by it if it weren't for the fact that he could still recall how his hair stood up on end when the nurse from before brushed her hand over his head…

XxX

"This way Sean!"Arthur calls, running through the brambles. Glancing back, he sees the redhead plodding through the winding path; his arms crossed and his face holds the same blankness he sees in his classmates when he tries to talk Shakespeare with them. Stopping, the blond stomps his foot. "C'mon Sean!" He whines and the teenager rolls his eyes.

"Why couldn't ye take Kiku or Francis on this adventure?" He sneers.

Arthur puffs out his cheeks. "Kiku's sick like I told you and Francis?" He says with disgust, "He's the biggest priss if I ever saw one!"

The redhead almost smiles. "Ye might have a point there," he admits; hurrying up just enough to please his younger brother. Catching up in a few strides, Sean looks down on his brother's light-halo. "So, what exactly do ye want to show me?"

The boy turns up his face scowling, "I don't want to, he told me I need to show you!" He declares.

Chuckling, Sean ruffles his ten-year-old brother's perpetually messy hair. "Aren't ye getting old for these imaginary friends?"

Arthur swats away his older brother's hand and growls. "They aren't imaginary!" He snaps, so very tired of everyone always calling his friends that. "Besides, I just met him! We aren't friends."

"Of course," Sean agrees indulgently. Why question Arthur? He'll get over these imaginary friends eventually; he was ridiculous enough to believe in leprechauns until he was well over eleven. He feels the fall-cooled hand slip into his and tugs him to an exceptionally large tree in a small clearing.

"This is it, he said we needed to dig a little, though;" the blond explains pointing to the gnarly roots.

Sean sighs, couldn't Arthur have told him this earlier? Well, it looks like they'll be using their hands. "I guess we better start diggin', huh?" He suggests; dropping to the leaf-covered ground.

Arthur laughs. "Yeah, okay!" Plopping down next to him, Arthur begins to dig in the dirt. It wasn't like the boy he met promised anything, he just asked for help-Arthur liked to help. He liked to think he didn't just get in the way (like Will and Francis were always telling him he did). Scratching at the dirt with his brother's help; he catches sight of the black-cloaked boy from the corner of his eye.

"Are you going to watch us the entire time?" he inquires in a little more than a murmur. He hopes Sean doesn't think he's being weird again.

Pale blue eyes don't leave where he and his brother dig, but his head bobs in acknowledgment. Arthur wonders where he came from, he hadn't seen him come into the clearing. Nor did he hear him, for that matter. Putting it aside in favor of digging, the small boy and teenager dig for a long time when the boy beside Arthur speaks;

"Just a little to the left," he croaks.

"A little to the left, Sean," Arthur instructs his brother. The older listens and a few minutes later; he stops face horrified and bleached of color. "What's wrong?" Arthur asks, trying to peak around his brother's arm.

The redhead shoves him back. "Don't," he snaps. "We need to go home and call the police."

"What? Why?" Arthur frowns, sitting back up. He wants to be mad at Sean for pushing him, but he can't when he's so curious. Looking to the boy he only met a few hours earlier; he blinks questioningly. The blond just smiles and waves, "Thank you, friend," he whispers and the boy seems to just dissolve.

Gaze so very large now, for the first time since he was very small he feels like he's missing something. How did that happen? How did he do that? Was he coming back? Was he– No, those were only in stories.

"C'mon Arthur," Sean demands, plucking him off the ground by the arm. "We need to go home now," he hisses and proceeds to drag them through the half-dead woods and back to their home.

A few hours later, police are asking him a lot of questions; Arthur, though, can't figure out how to answer a single one it seems.

They ask how and what and why, but the boy doesn't have good enough answers.

How did you know to look there?

A boy told me to dig there, he tells them.

What boy?

I don't know, a boy; I never caught his name.

Why?

I don't know!

It's not until he's sobbing and begging them to stop that it finally seems to click that he doesn't know; he's just a kid. A kid who knew to dig there because a boy told him to. When the reporters and journalists start to come around, he still doesn't have any good answers and when his brother begin to ask? He still can only give them the exact same answers he gave everyone else. Arthur really wants to be able to explain it to someone, but the one time he attempted to tell Sean, he only stared at him as if he'd never seen him before. Eventually, police, reporters, journalists, his friends, and brothers stop asking and he's allowed to try and regain what he lost all those weeks ago. (He never does, however).

It's not only Sean who doesn't look at him the same after it's all done and buried.

XxXxX

Arthur's almost fifteen and he hates everyone. He's the weird kid everyone whispers about (even when he's in the room) since that incident when he was ten; and now, even the police are after him! Is it really so bad that he's getting out the words of the shades? (He refuses to call them that other word, the one that makes them sound like they're gone). Huffing as he catapults himself over a rusting fence the teenager almost thinks he's escaped the police this time when-

"Ah!" The boy shrieks as a dog jumps on him.

"I got him, John!" One of the officers calls before he whistles for the dog to get off.

Dazed and his sleeves shredded, Arthur barely manages to sit up before Larry snags him by his too large hood. "Again Artie?" The husky man grunts. "Why can't you be like your brothers? They don't try to run,"

Shoving himself away, neither police officer startles. They know him well at this point, he runs, but once captured he's bound well enough to whatever principle it is he follows to see that he shouldn't try to fight. "Yeah, well it's kind of hard to run while pissed!" He snaps at bearded man.

The man shakes his head. He won't take him to the station; being an old school-friend of his mothers, he does this one favor. As long as Arthur or his brothers don't do anything other than public damage (which he always comes by early Saturday mornings to grab him to clean up), or mischief-public intoxication falls under this, he won't actually take them to the station and court. "C'mon kiddo, let's get you home;" the respectable cop sighs.

Exhaling dramatically, Arthur sticks out his tongue piercing at the man. At the raised eyebrow, though, he reluctantly gets into the police car.

XxX

Driving them to the apartment complexes Arthur's become familiar with since his mother's death three years back and his family's predictable move, Arthur pounds out a song only he knows on the back of Larry's seat, the dog, Sherwood, growls. Looking over, the teenager plans to scowl at the dog for growling at him (what right does Sherwood have to say his music sucks, when John only listens to that junk on the bubblegum pop stations?), but what he sees makes him sick. It's the face of a little boy he's only seen in the occasional Christmas card his brother Sean likes to burn-Matthew, his half-brother. But, but that means he's dead and..."How?" He croaks absolutely terrified.

His tiny brother's pale face smiles. "You see me?"

Arthur's long since learned not to speak to the shades when others around, but little ones – like this brother – are so quick to anger and they aren't so good at not letting everyone know, even those who can't see the shades. So, he quickly averts his eyes to the Sedan's muddy ground; it's been rather rainy hasn't it? He wonders what it was like where his brother was living, maybe they had some sunny weather before he died; Arthur would like to hope they had, it only seems fair when one so little has to die.

"Yes," he hisses.

The tiny body clambers over the seat and cuddles into his side like a tiny snowman. "That's good," he says. After a moment the baby shade adds, "Al couldn't." It makes Arthur's head hurt (never his heart, hearts aren't where feelings are).

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, "Why are you here, though?"

The little body moves and it's like an icy breeze passes through him. "Oh, they said they were going to send Al here."

"What, why?" Arthur can't help but asks a bit too loud. Larry looks back through the rear-view mirror, one of those funny looks he's been getting since that one time on his face.

Matthew shrugs. "I don't know, I think it's 'cause daddy and momma are asleep. I saw them in those big scary hospital beds, but they wouldn't wake up when I shook 'em." The little boy answers.

Arthur feels his stomach drop, oh please, he begs, please don't let them all be dead. Slowly, so very slowly he brings his hand up and rests it on his half-brother's head just long enough for it not to be weird and mutters "You can stay in my room for as long as you want."

This earns him such a brilliant smile, but it's pale and without the glisten and clarity of the solids; so it's rather ghastly. The teenager's used to it, though and it really doesn't bother him anymore (liar).

XxXxX

They make it to his apartment number sixty-six (only a step away from hell, he likes to say) and a red-faced Dylan answers the door. For a moment, Arthur thinks he's finally done it and drunk himself in his body weight like Sean and Will do all the time; it's not it, though.

"Oh, Larry..." Dylan murmurs.

Concerned, the stout man puts a hand on his older brother's elbow. "You alright lad?"

The brunette plasters on a bit of a wobbly smile. "Just some bad news from family overseas," he explains.

The officer seems like he wants to ask more questions, however, he knows not to. "Ah, well, I brought this one home again...I'll get him Saturday morning?" He inquires stiffly.

Sighing, Dylan takes his arm and smiles. "You probably won't have to worry about him any longer, you see, our small brother Alfred is flying over and he's only eight...someone's going to have to watch him when the rest of us are working." He imparts to the old man.

Yanking himself away, Arthur gwapes. "What?! I didn't agree to that! Why didn't her family want him?"

Dylan scowls. "Don't be that way Arthur, just because dad was an arsehole doesn't mean we leave our brother an orphan."

"Arthur? Arthur? What is Dylan talking about? What does he mean Al's an orphan? What happened to daddy and momma?" Matthew begs, his tiny ice hands tugging at his sweater, but the teenager ignores it in favor of getting in his seventeen-year-old brother's face.

"You aren't even old enough to be making these calls! What did William say? Sean, huh?"He demands.

Dylan's countenance takes on a rare look of fury as he reaches out and slaps Arthur. "You're so ungrateful!" He screams.

"Whoa! Hey!" Larry shouts, separating them with his bulk. "Calm down kids!" He orders.

In the background, a bowl shatters and Arthur vaguely realizes his little brother's the one to cause it with his ethereal shrieks. "Damn!" Dylan shouts, running to see what caused the key bowl to fall off the dresser in the hallway. "How'd that happen?" He mutters.

Larry, right behind the brunet, runs a hand through his thinning hair. "I saw it, it just shot right off...like in those horror movies," he remarks.

"That happens sometimes here..." His older brother exhales, face pained.

Miserably, green eyes look to the tiny boy screaming out his incomprehension in the middle of the living-room; only he knows what truly caused the breaking of that bowl and only he will ever fully understand

XxX

Alfred, actually, turns out to be just what Arthur needs. He's bright and smiling, but his little twin is always just behind-mimicking his breathing life. It hurts to watch, but Arthur falls in love with both of them faster than he thought possible. Alfred's boisterous and tells him about his dead twin and parents all the time at first, but, soon, when he starts school all he can talk about is the class bully Ivan, the funny Italian boy named Feliciano and his grouchy older brother Romano, his old friend Kiku's little brother, he can't recall his name and then about Francis's sweet young cousin Seychelles.

Arthur enjoys the tenacious spirit of his half-brother, enjoys that he likes all the old stories Arthur used to love and most of all he loves that he believes him and never questions him when he talks to people who aren't there. This, though, would change (what else could be expected?)

Alfred's eleven and he and Arthur are taking a walk along a less used path in the park and Matt walks in front of him pointing out things as they go. "Look at that tree! He's got a hole in him!" The tiny shade remarks happily.

"Indeed," Arthur smiles, ruffling the hair of a boy only he can see.

Alfred a frown perchance on his face, gazes up at his half-brother. "Who are you talking to?"

"Matt," the older blond answers quickly; he's learned never to call him Matthew, it would make the American child upset and fearful.

"Mattie's too nice! He couldn't be somethin' mean an' scary like a ghost!"

"Matt's dead," the boy bluntly grunts.

Startled, Arthur knits his thick brows and frowns. "Your brother loves you," he reminds him.

"Loved!" The boy yells, coming to stand in front of his older brother. "Matt's dead! Quit talkin' about him like he's alive! I hate it! You didn't even ever know him!" He howls.

Matt, the sweet little shade, turns arctic cold in his hand. "Tell him to shut up!" The boy screams. "Make him stop! Make him stop!" He wails, "I'm not dead!" The wind whips through, cracking some smaller branches off the tree.

Throwing himself on his solid brother, Arthur keeps his weight on him even as Al struggles. "I know, I know," he soothes; tears run heavy from his shade brother's eyes and he shakes his head.

"Al wouldn't call me dead if he was like me!" The little one snarls and with great terror, Arthur sees what's coming.

Pale lavender eyes begin to glisten and redden until they are nothing but a fiery glow of damnation, his teeth appear to sharpen and his skin seems to turn from pallid to gray. The tiny no-longer shade roars and the woods seem to thunder with warning and Arthur knows that his sweet Matt is no more. Picking himself off his brother, he grabs the younger's hand and makes them run. He doesn't let up and even when they are all the way back home, he keeps Alfred in his room even though he screams and accuses him of being nuts. He lines the windows and doors with salt and prays and prays with the bible in his hands, eventually convincing Alfred to join him.

After an hour or so of this, some of the panic recedes and Arthur puts the bible down. Sighing, he looks to his younger brother sadly; "I'm sorry," he says.

The boy snorts. "You're the one who freaked out over nothing."

Shaking his head, Arthur feels tears hot and real in behind his eyes. "Oh, it wasn't nothing, Al..."

The blond scoffs and leaves the room; neither of them mentions the incident again and if Arthur stops talking to people who aren't there (especially Matt) around him, well nobody but them notices.

XxXxX

He's almost finished with college, only a little over a semester to go. He's happy for the first time in a long time, people here didn't grow up with him, they don't know about the incident from when he was ten and especially don't know about the shades. He likes it here and it seems that he'll be able to get a job at the at the campus's high school as an English teacher if he continues to play his cards right. Of course, he should have known agreeing to go to a bar one Saturday night would be what ruined him (or maybe it didn't).

He's drunk and the shades are picking up on his mutterings about them, they know he sees them and because he's drunk everyone looks a little blurry so the shades look a lot like solids. He's getting weird looks from his friends, but suddenly the taciturn Lukas is in front of him.

"Oh, the Norwegian..." he mumbles dumbly.

"I think we need to get you back to your apartment, Arthur;" he mutters.

Helping him up from the stool, the slight man doesn't say anything as the blond puts most of his weight on him as they clumsily make their way out the door. Walking along the streets, Arthur says hi to each and every person sees (there's a lot of them!); Lukas's face only becomes more and sterner as they come closer to where Arthur lives. Once they're stumbling up the steps of his apartment and Lukas is shoving himself into his apartment after taking his keys from his blocks ago; Arthur barely gets to say goodbye to the old bloke he was chatting to up the stairs and to the door.

"In Arthur!" The man snaps and with a pout, the Englishman lets the other close the door. Sitting him down in the kitchen, the man prepares tea and coffee for them; handing Arthur the tea. Taking it he gulps it down, the jolliness from earlier evaporated.

"So," Lukas remarks.

"I talk to people who aren't there, I know," Arthur sniffs; tears glinting in his green eyes.

"Oh, they were there alright, I just didn't..." The Norwegian shrugs, he's never been good with words.

"You saw them too," the blond states with some surprised.

"Since as long as I can remember," the other man agrees.

Arthur chuckles, "Nice to know I'm not the only one," he admits.

"It's hard," Lukas sighs, "You were really good at pretending they weren't there until tonight."

"I knew I shouldn't have agreed to go to the bar..." Arthur grumbles. Sitting up a little straighter, the blond snags the other's coat sleeve. "Look, I know we aren't all that close, but what we trade e-mails or something? Just so we can talk sometimes about, well, that? Just so I can know I'm not crazy?"

The Norwegian nods. "Yes, it might be nice; to feel validated once in a while." The two smile hesitantly and shake hands.

Over the rest of their lifetime, they'll rarely have much to say in person; but over those e-mails, sharing, telling, speculating and learning they'll be closer than many can claim to be.

XxX

Peter's twelve when he asks "Hey, Arthur, why are you a horror story writer?"

Arthur pauses mid keystroke and looks to his so very typical step-son. "Oh, I suppose it's because it's what I know best," he answers.

A little frown turns those pink lips down. "What do you mean? How do you know horror best? I know Will, Sean, and Al aren't all that nice sometimes...but, they aren't bad guys."

Laughing, the blond beckons the boy who may as well be his own to his side. Reluctantly, the child kicks off his converse and joins him at his desk. "Want to know a secret little rabbit?" He whispers, eyes huge and luminescent.

The kid's faintly orange nose crinkles (must have been in his mum's painting studio again), "I'm not a rabbit," he pouts. But, the boy leans into him and asks, "What's the secret?"

Leaning in close, he breathes on the youth's ear prolonging the suspension until the kid's jittery and huffing; "I see ghosts," he tells him.

The little boy takes a step back and smirks. "Oh yeah, alright Arthur!" He snarks, "Man! You're so weird!" He mumbles as he leaves the room.

Once he's sure the boy's a safe distance away, Arthur turns to the fluffy cat next to him. "I'm not weird, am I Matt?" he coos at the creature.

It only purrs in answer, but the blond man feels significantly better.

What do you guys think? I really wanted to do a piece for Halloween and I think I managed to get that vibe.

Anyway, for names...

Will(iam)-Scotland

Sean-Ireland

Dylan-Wales

Lukas-Norway

And then the thing about shades and solids, shades are ghosts and solids are living people; Arthur is hesitant to call one living and the other not because they both act the same, but ghosts are a bit fuzzy around the edges where people aren't; so, shade and solid.

Thanks for reading :)