t.r.a.p.p.e.d «» i.n «» a «» l.o.v.e.l.e.s.s «» w.o.r.l.d

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His dim silhouette melted into the darkness, and the shadows swallowed him whole. Then thunder roared overhead, and bright white lightning framed the sky. For a moment, I could see his faint, lithe figure, an outlined black structure against the ball of light. He turned back to look at me, and that was the last time I ever saw his eyes.

Oh, those enigmatic, greenstone eyes. Orbs that were naught but a way for me to see what he truly felt like. By staring into them I could understand what he was thinking of. They were capable of displaying regret and anguish; happiness and joy; hope and will; despair and sadness. Emotions that were too painful to admit, such as grief, were too shown in the emeralds. Sometimes I could sense tingling ecstasy rush though me when we shared eye contact.

And little did I know that never again would I experience such an emotional ride.

Everything changed that night. In a storm that was seemingly triggered by the tension in my heart, I soared above the merciless clouds raining down on me. Searching for him, with phantoms of my own imagination creating schemes of dread and fury. For my mind was thinking ahead of me, sending me warnings of the unknown. Images flashed behind my eyes; predictions of what he might have been enduring at that very moment. A second would pass by with me wondering, was he okay? I pictured him with broken bones, torn cloth, and scraped skin. Then I tried to calm myself down. Surely he wasn't that hurt.

Sadly, I was wrong. My optimism, for the first time in years, failed me. He had been far from okay. In fact, doubt had been spread, as he stood, with the chance to cross the forbidden border itself. The border between Life and Death. No one could tell whether he would be safe that night. As I watched helplessly, he was carried away from the grim scene, away to take him into intense care.

While he was being healed, I stood among the wreckage and chaos he had left behind. A circle of destruction, where all that I could see was what had to be remnants of the crash of the century. Standing there, all alone, with the wind tugging at my short-trimmed hair, the only thing I could do was pray, and beg for mercy to be kissed upon his forehead. He had done nothing to deserve all this. I wanted him back, in the cradle of my arms, the only sound in existence being the calm breaths escaping his lips. Back in time, when I had been able to touch him, hold him close, and perhaps even nibble his ear, softly whispering words that were meaningless to others, but were the keys to our hearts.

If only there had been some way to bring him back. Why was it so easy to lose someone? My heart was becoming prey to those who enjoyed torturing. I had been left with nothing to say, making it so hard to digest the words I couldn't believe.

Taking all this in was nearly impossible. If he was going to leave me alone to rot in this world, well, let it be. I was a lost soul, not a healer. I couldn't cast a spell to bind the sinews of his heart together, not could I stitch his wounds of the past, nor could I merely resurrect him. I was helpless, even though I had strength and power, I was weak without him by my side.

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The sunlight streamed though the windows of Spencer Wright's room, rousing the fourteen-year-old boy awake. The filmmaker stirred, and licked his lips while slowly blinking his eyes. The blurry mix slowly focused and he could make out the familiar sight of his room.

Something, however, was missing. And yet Spencer couldn't recall what it was. Sleepiness pulled at his shoulders, and his body was telling him that he needed extra rest. Finally, he gave in and slowly dropped down to his bed. He felt so exhausted, even though he had only stayed up for about half an hour later than usual. Normally, he could endure for much, much longer. Shrugging, he savored the feeling of fleece blankets draped over his torso and a warm pillow supporting his head. All else could be tended to later, he thought lazily.

His blissful dozing, for the fifth time that month, was again disturbed by none other than his friend, the ghost of former singer, Billy Joe Cobra. Now able to hear Billy's words, Spencer groaned, rolling over. He grabbed a pillow and dug his head under it, hoping that it would sufficiently block out all the noise. Unfortunately, his experiment wasn't all that successful.

After a short while of debating, Spencer realized that today was a special day indeed; he and his classmates were going on a camping trip. It was, truly, a rare treat for the students, considering the school circumstances, and of course their principal, of whom Spencer would rather leave his name omitted. The teen had to admit his dislike to his high school, but to enjoy a day out in the sun or under the trees, maybe there wouldn't be so much complaining to put up with.

Preparing for the day went by like a breeze. With help from his companion, Spencer managed to have his extra clothes, equipment, and gadgets all crammed in one bag. Spencer also felt thankful that his sister wasn't in the way for once. He was having a good day, with anticipation lifting his spirits up to the sky. If he were any more lucky, today would he memorable as great.

Ready to leave, he mouthed a quick goodbye to both his parents. Apparently, he would still have to make it to school before they could go. So with a smile on his face and a positive hum resonating in his throat, Spencer confidently made his way towards school. It was like nothing could tear his cheery mood apart.

Arriving early at the school gates, he nearly bumped into his friend Rajeev. "Hey, Spence, Billy," greeted the student, acknowledging both the boy and his ghostly form of company. Spencer mouthed his own hello before together, they made their was to class, awaiting the trip.

Waiting had been something that Spencer rarely did, but now, he sighed and couldn't stop staring at the clock. He was mentally sending messages for the clock hands to move faster. Fortunately, the wait was over and he and his friends could move on.

The cars used for the trip were lined up already, and once the groups were divided around the class, they would choose a car and get going. Lucky enough to be paired up with Rajeev, along with a few other students, Spencer was now ready. They mounted one car, with Spencer sitting in the front seat. Billy, unsurprisungly, tagged along, but instead of staying close, he soared, enjoying the day.

A smooth start was laid out before them, but Spencer didn't know what else was waiting for him. He began to feel like an ominous cloud was hanging over his head, sending omens to him. Trying to ignore the strange feeling, he concentrated upon staring out the window. Not even Billy noticed the grim look on his face.

Billy's roundabout was interrupted by the sound of thunder. He looked up and noticed jagged lightning tear the sky into a thousand pieces, almost like shattered glass. And that was when it all began. The rain poured, spilling from roofs and changing the sunny day into a dull, bleary noon.

Faint skidding noises made Spencer look around. And so as time seemingly slowed down, a huge car came into sight, ramming into Spencer's side of his own vehicle at top speed.

The force of the crash was enough for Spencer to notice the snapping sound of bones before he blacked out.

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Tears.

Liquid diamond tears. Oh, many of those were shed on this grievous night. Tears of emotional pain, and I was not the only one to cry. An entire group of people were here with me to mourn him. His family and friends, comrades, and even acquaintances. But I was still his closest friend, wasn't I? Regret dragged at my heart, which was no longer a vital organ of living, but a place to lock up my feelings and thoughts. He was lost to the world. Would I ever see him again, in another life, in another dimension, would our hearts meet?

Because even now, I had no idea whether he'd turn out to be like me or not. I missed him as a young prodigy always looking out for fun, or even trouble. I wanted him back, but with an amulet of Death now clasped around his thin neck, was that even possible? A similar situation as mine, but would his soul be lifted and held aloft, much like mine?

If he was gone forever, I would be trapped in a loveless world.

Author's Note: This was originally a one-shot, but I'm definitely continuing something like this. As you can see, my writing style here isn't too different from the one in Mystified. I will not name any character in Billy's point of view, and I'm pretty sure you know who the 'he' is that BJC has been referring to. When told in third person, you can see that I try to lean over to Spencer and focus on his feelings and emotions.

This wasn't really based off anything; I merely felt bored and this came out. And, of course, this will evolve into ectofeature; who doesn't love a little slash?

Review if you liked, thanks in advance.