Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He sets down his backpack at his desk and sighs. This issue has been gnawing at him for months. It grows worse with each passing day. He had warred with himself about it, trying to think of workarounds like they usually do but there's nothing for this. It's clear to him that he has to end things now, time is not his friend here.

He isn't dead, he's not trapped in this hotel forever. What is she going to do when he goes off to college? When he eventually moves out?

It's awful that with his decision made, his months of fretting done with, a lightness lights in his chest. He doesn't regret his choice at all.

He just hopes she doesn't hate him for it.

He squares his shoulders and moves towards his door, intent on finding her. He doesn't have to go far as Annabelle pops through it.

"Ben!" She says and she reaches her arms out to pantomime a hug. Ben complies and she rambles as they act out an embrace. "Ugh, it was so boring without you today," she moves out of the false hug and into the room, twirling into the center of it when she spies his book bag. Her face lights up immediately. She always loves hearing about school no matter how mundane.

"Tell me about your day?"

He must show something for Annabelle's face falls. Her red colored lips forming a pout as her brows furrow. "Did…did something happen?" She asks quietly.

Ben can't help but to sigh. This won't be easy. "Why don't we sit down," he suggests as he flops down onto the edge of his bed. He pats the spot beside him.

Annabelle's frown turns a nudge hopeful and that hurts more than the frown did. He's only going to crush her all over again. Annabelle sits down and patiently waits.

Ben can feel bile rising in his throat but somehow he forces what maybe resembles words out of his mouth instead of nervous vomit. "This is a difficult- no wait. This is har- I- this was a very- " Annabelle just stares at him as he flounders and he puts his head in his hands as the right words refuse to come.

Oh God, he's such a coward he can't even look at her as he says it. He'd rather say it than not at all though. So he takes a deep breath and lets it all out in a rush, "I want to talk about the next step in our relationship."

He feels a jolt of cold and he looks up to see Annabelle's hand on his shoulder. "I know what this is about," she says her face serious.

"You do?"

She solomly nods her head. "Yes, and I want you to know that I'm ready."

Ben straightens up with a incredulous laugh, "That's great! I'm so glad we're on the same page," the trepidation in his chest eases and he feels like he can actually breath. But when he looks back at Annabelle he realizes that there's been a grave error.

Annabelle is blushing furiously, her shy gaze turned towards his sheets as one side of her dress is slowly dipping off of one of her shoulders. In a blind panic, as he's really trying not to stare because he hasn't found her attractive in that sense for a while, he grabs his blanket and throws it over her.

"Ben!" She shouts and he can hear the confusion and embarrassment in her voice.

"Sorry I panicked!"

The sheet rustles as she pops her head out of the side of it. "Why? Isn't this what you were trying to talk about…? The next development in our relationship?"

If he wasn't certain that dying on the hotel grounds meant becoming a ghost forever then he'd let Jessica kill and eat him. "No that is not what I was trying to talk to you about," he says his voice strained.

Annabelle deflates with a quiet, "Oh."

"Listen Annabelle," he starts and she looks at him again, her eyes hopeful. He can feel his heart wrench but he won't back down now. "I don't want to be in a relationship with you anymore. A romantic one," he tacks on at the end because he does love her just not in the way that she wants.

He should have expected that she'd turn to anger. She has a penchant for dramatics but it still manages to surprise him.

"So you’re ditching me for a living girl?" She yells, springing forwards to jab a non-solid finger at his chest. Her anger is clear but it doesn't hide the tears threatening to fall.

"Anna-"

“What do they have that I don’t? Prominent ankles?” Her hands fling wildly about her and Ben longs to still them with his own. To provide some sort of comfort. Then she gasps ascant as she sits back on her heels, hands grabbing at her chest. "Is it because I’ll never grow into my womanly charms?"

"Yes!" Ben blurts because she was on the right track and apparently that's all his mouth needed. "No!" he quickly corrects. "I mean no not that. I'm not thirteen anymore."

Annabelle crosses her arms, the definition of stubborn as she shrugs. "Two years isn't a huge gap my gal pals had larger ones with their boyfriends," she says with a glare.

"But I won't stay fifteen. Soon I'll be sixteen, then seventeen and what then?" Annabelle falls silent except for a few sniffles.

Ben shares in the sentiment as he leans back against the wall. "I wanted to be able to brag about you. To take you on an actual date like the movies," she starts to sob now he reaches a hand out but she scoots away with a withering glare over her red rimmed eyes. He lets his hand fall. "I'm sorry Annabelle but it's over."

"It's not fair," she says her words wobbly and wet as she phases out of his bedroom.

He can hear her sobbing as she runs down the hall. The murmurs of the other ghosts, wondering what's happening. A few are taking bets on if it's truly over or not. It makes his stomach twist.

He groans as his own tears begin to fall. Fuck. That was horrible but would there have been any other way it could have gone?

Hours pass as Ben sits there wallowing. He cries until he can't. And even after that he can't muster up the energy to do a thing. He knows assignments are calling his name but he can't seem to care.

He doesn't appear at dinner and that earns him a gentle knock at his door. And a soft, "Ben?" The door creeks as weight leans on it. "I heard what happened are you…can I come in?"

Ben nods his head then remembers that she can't see him. "Yeah."

The door cracks open and light from the hallway spills inside. He hadn't bothered to turn the lights on. His mom doesn't either as she sits herself onto his bed and pulls his head against her lap. She hasn't done that since Ben was smaller and he feels a lump forming in his throat at the conflicting emotions it sends through him.

They don't say anything for a while. He feels like a child again as she cards her hand through his hair, waiting for him to speak. He rubs at his face for good measure before he does.

"Why did you let me do that?" He asks and his voice is scraggily from the earlier crying.

"Because you would have done it anyway. At least with my permission I would know what was going on," she answers and her hand stills as Ben shifts and sits up.

His mom's worried look has subsided, a knowing one taking its place. He wonders if it was this hard when she and dad split. Or if this is all extra kinds of fucked up just for him. He resists the urge to ask.

"You wouldn't have been happy staying and neither would she."

"Then why do I feel so shi- bad."

Her brow quirks at the slip but she lets it slide. "Because it's a hard thing to do."

Ben groans and dramatically flops onto his back. His mom ignores it with practiced ease. Abaddon throws far more epic tantrums. "…when do I stop feeling like this?" He whines into his hands.

"Time," she says and he feels a touch on his arm. "But I'm here if you need me."

Ben doesn't say anything, words drained from him after the small revelation. The bed shifts and then there is the soft press of lips on his forehead. "I love you," she whispers followed by the sound of footsteps and the click of his door shutting.

Sleep that night is fitful, rife with nightmares revolving around Annabelle. But Ben moves on with his life. He gets up, eats and goes to school, settling back into the established routine and the ache lessons every day. Annabelle decidedly does not.

He goes weeks without seeing her. Oh he hears her, her wailing cries shake the entire house but both Abaddon and Esther had tried to locate her and couldn't. Then one night she goes silent and that's when the trouble starts.

She won't leave him alone.

She is there for his every waking and non-waking moment. She stands by his bed at night, staring down at him as tears silently fall down her face. He ignores her, intent to let her work it out herself but she doesn't stop.She's there when he dresses, when he showers or uses the restroom and she stands behind him at mealtimes. She stares directly at him with those pitiful silent tears.

Esther pulls him aside after dinner one night. "You know I could get rid of her. Temporarily," she says unafraid that Annabelle can hear everything.

Ben shakes his head. "I'm sure it'll work itself out she's just uh," he cuts a glance her way and accidentally makes eye contact. He shivers. "She's just adjusting."

Esther looks doubtful but doesn't push it. Her gaze lingers as she slinks up to her room. He looks to Annabelle, to her silent weeping anger and sighs before going up himself.

At least he thought he could deal with it.

He's used to an unmeasurable amount of eyes on him but as time drags on he can't let it go. He's sitting in his room trying to work on a project but there's Annabelle, standing so close behind him he swears he can feel her nonexistent breath on the back of his neck.

He rounds on her. "Okay, I've had enough," he says as he pushes his chair out and abandons the project. Nothing was getting done anyway. "What is your problem? I know this is hard for you but this isn't the solution!"

With every word his voice raises and with every word Annabelle's gaze turns sharper and sharper. A strange energy gathers around her as her usual supernatural glow brightens.

"Understand? Understand? You understand nothing," she says with an eerie calmness.

Miscellaneous things around his room begin to float in the air. His paper on his desk, pencils, clothes and any other small objects. Annabelle stares him down before lifting her arm and flicking them in his direction. The objects begin to hurtle towards him.

Ben attempts to dodge them but it's not exactly easy. "Annabelle please," he begs as a dirty shirt lands directly onto his face. It muffles him and as he wrestles it off he feels something hard hit his foot. He stumbles and pain lances up his shins and knees as they collide harshly with the floor.

He rips the shirt off his face and throws it to the side but Annabelle makes a terrifying sight. Her hair fans around her face in a wispy visage as it's taken on a mind of its own. Completely different than her carefully styled bob. Her dress is much the same whipping against her legs as if there's a wind.

What makes his blood feeeze in his veins and the air choke from his lungs is the extra details. He was aware that Annabelle's death wasn't due to natural causes but the reality hits him as hard as a punch. Around Annabelle's neck is a ring of molted purple bruises belonging to a set of too large hands. The bruises look ingrained, so much so that he swears he can see the indent of fingerprints.

The skin of her face has turned a blueish hue. Veins around her neck and up her face have become more pronounced, bulging just below the surface. His stomach twists at the grotesque sight and he has to fight down a wave of nausea.

"We can get through this together," he tries. His discomfort, his desperate need for the image of her mangled body to leave his line of sight makes his words wobble. But there's no reaching her. He might as well have kept silent. Maybe he should have taken Esther up on her offer.

Her eyes are a blank blinding blue but even then he can feel her stare at him. A look that reaches his soul. A silent screaming to look at her, to look at what was done to her. What precisely she's lost and what he may as well have ripped from her all over again.

Her feet have left the ground and his things still whirl around her. He tucks his head beneath his hands as he curls against the floor. The room is too small for him to hide, or to get away unseen and she's blocking the only exit. Pens and pencils pointed like spikes angle towards him and he braces for impact.

He watches through the slits of his fingers as they race towards him and land squarely into the floor around him. Not a single one pierces his skin. He chances a glance up and although she's still the spitting image of fury, his things have stilled.

“There is no more us!" She says harshly, the last vestiges of anger leaking into her raspy voice. A crushed windpipe only able to expel air from supernatural means. It grates on his ears but he'll be damned if he doesn't listen.

The light around her flickers and she floats back to the ground. His things slam down with her. The bruises around her neck fade and her veins return to how they were. Her hair stills as does her dress. She looks as she is, a hurt girl.

She swipes at her eyes a wetness smearing away with them. He pretends not to notice. "You get to grow up and get married, go to college and all the other things I never will," her voice still carries a distinct rasp. The internal damage not quite repaired.

What goes unsaid is loudly thrumming in his chest as a clenching weight. Ben knows this won't do shit, it can't fix anything about this situation. His shins and knees ache, and he thinks his left knee is bleeding a little but he can't muster up any anger. He really really can't.

"I'm sorry."

He takes a cautious step toward her and she doesn't move a muscle. He grabs his fluffiest blanket and gently drapes it around her shoulders, pretending that it's his arms.

"It isn't fair."

She turns and mimics hugging him back. It doesn't feel as their other hugs have. There's no promise of, or wanting for, more as there once was. She keeps her head down and he gets the distinct feeling that she's hiding her face against his chest. It's strange, a year ago and this wouldn't have been possible. He's grown taller since then, and he's struck by how much smaller she looks.

“I really wanted to get married," she starts her voice a hushed whisper but he's glad that it's no longer scraggly sounding. Some of his unease loosens. "Not necessarily to you but someday, in the far off future. It would have been a dream," she sighs and it sounds too large to have come from her. “We would have met at some dance and it would have gone from there.”

Ben takes it for what it is. Dashed dreams and hopes lost to someone else's cruel hands. Even now with the marks gone, he swears he can still see them. The dark purples and sickly greens blooming with every trick of the light.

Annabelle isn't crying anymore, she's not doing much of anything but he holds her as best as he can. He hopes the blanket feels somewhat like his arms. That it's fluffy fabric can convey all that he wishes in the absence of words. Death is a heavy thing to carry. Nathan can hardly stand it. He's good at hiding it but Ben has noticed the ticks over the years.

Annabelle is even better having years beyond his own to practice. The reminder nearly has him shivering again but it unearths something else. A small fact that he himself has forgotten. Light returns in the dark gloom of the room.

“I think I can make some of it come true," he says.

"Really?" Annabelle's head snaps up as she pulls away to get a better look at him. As if something will happen right this second. "How?" And her gaze narrows, some of its shine lessening. He's learning that hope is hard to come by around here and easily dashed.

“Conduit, remember?”

Her eyes dim further and he has to bite his lip to keep from reflexively retracting his offer. Annabelle fills the silence. "You'd do that for me?" And her words are quiet and it's the most unsure he's heard her. That was a him thing to be, not her. "Even after I've been so nasty?"

He feels a smile tug at his lips despite everything, "I think it'll help."

Annabelle considers him a moment longer and nods. The blanket falls through her form and a matching, not quite happy but getting there smile pulls her lips up too. Ben has just the person in mind to help with this.

"Come on, let's go find Esther."

A hum of agreement and they're walking out of the room and down the hall to his sister's room.

________

Ben knocks on her door as Annabelle anxiously waits beside him. Well, her version of anxious which is really just obsessively fixing her appearance. But anxious all the same. He can't blame her, it's not likely that Esther will reject their ask but there's a chance that even she can't help the small issue that happens every time he becomes a conduit.

He has to be able to moveto attend classes and the upcoming dance. What good would it do to have Annabelle inhabit a statue for a day?

He knocks again and then the door is wrenched open. There Esther stands in all of her recently founded teenage angst. She's taken to leaning heavily into the dark arts and its extended to her wardrobe. Mom mistakes her for a ghost at least once a week now.

Esther slides her eyes from him to Annabelle and her annoyance at being disturbed turns into something bordering on chiding.

“I am not helping you two figure out a way to have makeup sex," she says blankly and the door begins to swing closed.

Ben shoves his foot in the door just as he yells, "That is not whats happening!”

At the same time Annabelle says, "Absolutely not!”

Barred from shutting them out Esther considers them again. Her eyes narrow and she stares probably literally through them for all he knows. He never picked up on this type of stuff as Esther had, even after some memorable times she tried to teach him. He prefers his magical acts to be more theatre than real thank you very much.

Esther's eyes unnarrow with an eye roll. "Okay, then what do you need my help for?" She asks as she leans against the doorframe, proping the door open with her hip and shoulder as opposed to his foot.

Ben subtracts his foot and tries to put his spur of the moment plan into thought. "Through conduit mumbo jumbo I want to let Annabelle possess my body for the day and at my school's dance but-"

"But without the whole being immobile and unaware thing?" Esther finishes for him.

"Yeah, that!" He confirms.

A smile pulls on Esther's lips and he can see the gears in her head turning. She shifts as she grabs something within reach and it turns out to be her spell book. She flips through some of its pages and her smile only grows. This is a challenge one that she'll gladly and readily take him up on.

"Alright," she says when she's flipped the book shut again.

Then Uncle Nathan's face pops out of the wall right next to her. His mustache drooping with his frown. "You're going to what now?" He presses and Ben knows they've lost as soon as that eyebrow raises.

"How much of that did you hear?" Esther asks before Ben can do what he usually does. Immediately confess with a multitude of apologizes. He keeps quiet at Esther glances his way. It speaks of pain if he blabs.

When did Esther get scary?, he thinks as he mourns the days when she would follow him around like a lost puppy. Ah, good times.

If possible Uncle Nathan's eyebrow raises higher. "All of it. And I know Katherine wouldn't be too happy to hear about this the day after."

"Does she have to be involved?" Annabelle pipes up.

"Afraid so," Nathan says grimly and he steps out of the wall. His hands are on his hips too which means he's serious.

"You're no fun anymore," Esther grumbles with her book tucked under an arm as they silently march downstairs at Nathan's touchless herding.

"I'm sure Katherine will hear you out on this one," he assures as they go.

___________

"You want Annabelle to what?" Katherine asks from where she stands at the stove.

"Possess my body for a school day and the school dance," Ben explains for what feels like the millionth time.

Her back is turned to them and Ben hates it. He can't see what she's thinking and her tone isn't giving him much to go off of either. She had taken one look at them all, and uncle Nathan's face, and called Abaddon down to help them set the table for dinner.

She hadn't said a word even when he had finally caved and explained. That had earned him an elbow from Esther but, still nothing. Not a word.

It's making him antsy and Ben can't fathom sitting down at his spot at the table as Abaddon and Esther have taken to do. Nathan has taken up a post next to his mom, waiting for her verdict just like everyone else is. Annabelle stands next to him though, fiddling with her hair feather but her company is mellowing his own anxiety.

Katherine shoves a casserole into the oven and sets a timer before she turns around and addresses them. "Esther," her eyes slide to Abaddon for a second then back to his sister. "Are you helping him with this?"

"Yes."

"I can assist too," Abaddon adds unprompted. "I know a thing or two about sharing a body with another soul."

Katherine nods and runs her hands through her hair. "Alright that's as much assurance as I'm going to get," she mutters but with the lack of noise she might as well have spoken it. "You have my permission to do it then."

Annabelle gasps and Ben can feel his mouth hang open but mom holds up a hand.

"But there needs to be some ground rules. She can't possess you during the school day you need to be present for your classes."

"There's a solution for that," Esther says and she flips through her book. She turns the book round to show them the pages. Ben can't read a word of what it says but the scribbled drawing of an outline of a person with another laid on top of it seems promising.

"With this," and she shakes the book for emphasis. "Annabelle can be in his conscious mind while Ben is in control. So she can still see and hear things and Ben can pay attention in class or whatever."

"That'll work," Katherine says with a nod. "Also no dangerous stunts, no permanent alterations to his body and no nothing with anybody else without Ben's express permission," she prattles off listing them with her fingers. "Any objections?"

Ben shakes his head no but he hardly feels it. He feels like he's in a daze. Mom agreed so easily. Everyone around him is sat at the table getting themselves ready to eat as mom takes the casserole out of the oven. It's set in the middle of the table and they begin to dig in, scooping out their portions as spoons or forks scrape against their plates.

Mom comes over to him and Annabelle a soft but serious look on her face. It reminds him of the day they had broken up.

Annabelle notices and she curtsy's with a, "Thank you Miss Freeling," before straightening again. She flashes him a smile before she leaves the room.

"Ben," mom says as she touches his shoulder. It jolts him from the haze and everything returns at once. He can smell dinner now and his stomach grumbles. "Are you sure you want to do this? This isn't just to make Annabelle feel better?" She whispers.

He can feel Esther looking at him but she refrains from butting in. The eyes make him itch, it makes doubt creep in.

"I mean it's your first high school dance," mom continues.

Then he remembers how Annabelle had looked. Vengeful and screeching in his room with those horrid bruises around her neck. He thinks of how lonely she must have been, how heavy a death that is to carry. How she had never gotten to high school. Or whatever the 1920's equivalent is.

He looks at his mom, and he hasn't had to look as far up as he once had to. A spot of gray colors her hair, and wrinkles hug the corners of her eyes. The eyes staring at him are emboldening as opposed to uncomfortable. His shoulders straighten and the doubts fade away.

He gives a desivice nod. "I want to. Besides, there will be other school dances."

Mom smiles and it makes her smile lines deepen. It suits her. She squeezes his shoulder and then they both return to the table. Dinner is hot and waiting for them, fuel for what an interesting day tomorrow will be.

Chapter Text

"Now you just have to lay down," Esther says, absently gesturing where on the floor.

Ben looks to where she points, the ring of symbols painted in blood on the back porch. The fresh deer carcass is still laying on the grass a couple feet away. Ben cringes at the sight and at what he must do.

"Do I have to?" He unashamedly whines. "It's going to make me sticky." Annabelle mimes putting a hand on his shoulder but even that doesn't help. He's a lot more squeamish than his sister.

"Yes! And hurry up this is best done at daybreak. Plus you wore your frumpy clothes for this reason," Esther says, peeved at having to be up so early. Abaddon wordlessly comes back from the forest and hands Esther a freshly cut branch. There's splotches of blood on the cut end of it, he must of used the same knife that he had used on the deer.

"Did Abaddon have to use a knife on the poor guy?" Nathan asks, staring at the deer's body with its mangled throat.

"And trust Abaddon with a loaded shotgun?" His mom asks. Uncle Nathan shrugs in response and the two go off on one of their tangents. Sharp whispers with none of the anger behind them like what mom and dad used to do.

Esther groans and flaps around the branch like it's a pointer stick. She points it at him first. "Lay down already we're burning daybreak," she commands and although he dreads it he does.

The stick points to mom and Uncle Nathan, "And you would know that whether he should or not Abaddon couldn't use a gun because it would have left metal in the meat. Which is no good for the spell and all of you would have known that if you had listened to me during breakfast,” Esther says her voice having risen with every word.

Silence falls and Esther lets out a relieved sigh. "Thank you, now let’s get this co-piloting possession started.”

Ben fights back the urge to gag as the lukewarm, slowly coagulating blood squelches against his back and any other part of him it touches. Esther consults her book as she waves the stick over him, and over Annabelle in slow sweeping arcs. As she does so she chants a language he doesn't know but he gets the desctinct feeling that it's Latin.

Ben can feel an energy build in the air. A swirling mass that's concentrated between him and Annabelle. A connecting line that whirls like waves. The chanting ceases and the branch is brought to a halting stop right above his body. He can feel the energy about to burst, the swell of an oncoming wave but something prevents it.

Esther shakes the branch. A couple leaves fall onto him and he blows one out of his face. "Feel anything?" She whispers as if the magic can hear them.

"Sort of? I can feel that it's working it's just not happening yet."

"Oh good, cause if you weren’t a conduit there’s a high chance that you’d basically instantly die and be booted from your body," she says simply and he hears the rustling of paper.

Is she- is she referring to her book after saying something like that? "What?" He says and the branch is moved away from him.

The magic rushes forth as a tidal wave and he can feel it tingling all over his body. A warmth has krept its way in as he can feel his consciousness slip. A tug and he's staring down at himself lying on the bloody symbols.

He watchs his mouth move and feels his skin stretch. It's disorienting and his stomach drops serving only to confuse him further.

His eyes and mouth eminate that golden light and for a split second he's afraid that he's died. That he's another ghost at this hotel but nobody reacts to his presence and he can feel an invisible tether tying him to his body. He won't be going far.

He wishes he could cling to the invisible, intangible tether. That it was something solid. It'd make this whole thing so much easier but he has to trust it. He has to trust that Esther can see this through.

A decisive nod from Esther and Annabelle leaps towards him. And thank fuck it isn't like the last times Annabelle has phased herself through him because he doesn’t know what he’d do if he had the same reaction. He feels her presence enter his, a shift in his being to make room for her. She isn't warm, nor is she cold she's just there.

His mouth closes, he's never getting used to this, and when his teeth click together he's yanked back into his body. At first there is nothing but he can feel his body encasing him like a sturdy shell. He's in some sort of inbetween? Or his mind?

Just as a headache is about to form or he's going to send himself into panic someone clears their throat. He turns towards the sound.

"Annabelle?" He breathes and its stupid because it could be no one else.

She looks so alive. Her skin glows with the healthy flush of life instead of a washed out unearthly tinge of cold blue. She nods her head and then she's leaping at him. Her body actually connects, its warm and solid as he wraps his arms around her.

They stay like that, holding one another and breathing together. Hearing the soft puffs of her breathing and feeling it on his chest is new. He's gotten used to the unnatural stillness and quiet she'd provide when she wasn't speaking.

Then he feels another tug on his being, that tether getting pulled and he hugs her tighter. Her fists ball into his shirt as she hugs him back.

Ben opens his eyes to find Abaddon sitting on his chest and touching his face. Abaddon pats his cheek and simply says, "it is done," before getting off of him.

He feels suspiciously normal. He sits up, steadying himself with a hand on the wooden panels. His hand comes away sticky and he shivers at the feeling.

"Yeah that's him alright," Esther says. Nathan who's been hovering somewhere in his peripheral stops wringing his hands.

Their mom sighs with relief. "Good, and I hate to rush you after an…intense magic ritual but you need to change your clothes before school," mom says before she kisses his forehead.

Ben stands up and looks at the carnage around them. The bloody drying sigils on the floor, the deer carcas and a discarded branch. "Uh," he starts but mom shakes her head with a knowing smile.

"We'll clean it later."

They all separate then, each hurrying to get ready for school and work. Well, Ben is trying to at least. He goes slower than he should as he's trying not to strain himself. Just incase side effects decide to make themselves known from something he happens to do.

You worry too much, a voice sounds in his head but he knows exactly who it belongs to. He pauses in stepping into his jeans.

"Annabelle?"

He can somehow feel the eyeroll she's no doubt doing. Who else?

"Right, right," he shimmies the rest of the way into his pants, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. It's not as if she hasn't seen him with her strange fascination with watching him pee but still he'd rather she doesn't. "Can you see me? Or like the room?"

I can see everything that you can, and sort of feel it too, she confirms. Miss Freeling has soft lips, she adds absently.

Ben can't help but to laugh and he finishes dressing. He steps into the bathroom to double check he didn't miss any blood on his hands when he feels a nudging in his chest. A compulsion. He stops and lets it course through him, once, twice.

His hand hovers by his hairbrush and the feeling grows. "You want me to brush my hair?"

Yes! I didn't say so because I was testing it but, will you let me take control for a spell? I have an idea I can't explain.

Ben nods his head. The tug he feels is much gentler than what happened during the spell but how he ends up is startling alike what the spell did too. He sees what he would normally see through his eyes but the movements aren't his.

In a muted manner he can feel Annabelle move his hands and arms. Grabbing around nothing as a manic smile takes over his face along with a giggle. "I'd forgotten what this feels like," she says but it's his voice.

Her joy is infectious. He can feel it manifesting as a tingly warmth, like the softest of blankets as it whirls around him. I- we have to get to school, he reminds her and she startles at the sound of him.

She nods and her hand closes around his hairbrush. She moves with a practiced ease, one never forgets how it felt to live. With his other hand she turns on the tap and wets his fingers. Ben can feel that too, the slight pressure of the stream hitting his fingers and the coolness of the water.

Reflexively, he goes to rub his wetted hand off on his jeans but he's not in control right now. He only succeeds in sending out a ripple of emotion, a tug on Annabelle's tether. His body shivers and Annabelle grimaces in the mirror.

Oops, he thinks but Annabelle seems to hear it all the same.

She huffs a laugh and then resumes her work. She cards the wetted hand through his hair, enough to dampen the strands. Then she carefully brushes his hair out. Not that it does much to make it look neat, his curls have it springing back into its usual mass. Except now it's only slightly less frizzy.

She puts down the brush and runs his hands through his hair. Attempting to shape it, she even wets both of his hands and it still doesn't do a thing. "How do you deal with this?" She mutters.

I don't.

Annabelle rolls his eyes and he sees the action take place. Seems his sight isn't entirely tied to his eyes, would he be able to see his own face if he wasn't in front of a mirror?, he wonders.

"I think so," Annabelle absently mutters in response as she opens the mirror and rummages around his things. He doesn't have to tell her where a single thing is as she's seen it a thousand times. She quickly locates a jar of what he thinks is styling gel.

It was a gift from mom years ago. One of those things he hadn't asked for but it was clear he wouldn't think to so she got it anyway. He had tried it once or twice but he could never get it to do what he wanted so he counted it a lost cause. It was too wasteful to get rid of it and Esther doesn't want it so it's been sitting amongst his things untouched for a while.

He watches as Annabelle turns it over in his hands, feeling the muted weight of it and the lid's plastic edge digging into his palm as much as he sees it. She opens it and scoops some into his hands. She rubs them together and carts them through his hair and with a little sproosing it actually looks good.

His curls are still there but they're not as wild. And the plague of frizzy flyaways has vanished. Annabelle strikes a pose in the mirror and he feels like he can see her. It's his body doing it, his lips pursing into a pouty smile and his hips tilted out and to the side but it's entirely her. He can see it in every line and although it sets of an unexplainable sense of wrongness he's also happy too. He's happy for her.

She drops the pose and he feels another gentle tug. A few disoriented blinks and he's back to being entirely and completely in control. He was defiantly seeing more than what the mirror would have allowed, he thinks and somewhere he can feel the exasperated smile Annabelle would have given him.

He turns his head and looks further at his hair but he's careful not to touch it. "Thank you," he says and there's a warm flutter in his chest. Her own voiceless thank you.

Ben gathers his things and exits his room. He enters the waiting car and he doesn't even have it in him to argue with Esther for stealing shotgun from him. Not with the warmth that still lights his chest.

________

School is surprisingly normal. Annabelle elects to stay quiet for the most part. She'll ask a couple questions here and there or comment on things.

Oh, that's what your friend Caleb looks like?

Why are there imaginary numbers? What good does that do anyone?

This schoolhouse is huge.

Small little bits that note just how much things have changed for her. How little time waits. if it wasn't for the constant feeling of her presence, the inexplicable knocking at the back of his skull, then he would have forgotten that she was there. He nearly did until English class rolled around.

"Alright class, put everything away but a number two pencil we're having a pop quiz on the assigned chapter of The Great Gatsby."

Groans of his fellow classmates happen all around him and Ben can feel his stomach sink. Between all that had been going on and the dread and excitement for today he had forgotten to do that. And it's too late to look up a summary on his phone.

He takes a deep breath and tries to force himself to calm. It's a story he can guess where things were headed based on the last chapter. It settles him some but when he receives his test after dutifully passing the rest of the pile back, it becomes clear that he's fucked.

He sits in agonizing semi-silence as he waits for the torture to begin. He watches the papers reach his classmates one by one and the teacher sets a timer to project onto the screen.

"You have twenty-five minutes. When you are done place your papers in the bin. Begin," and she sets the timer to run.

Ben writes his name and today's date at the top of the page and that's as far as he gets. The questions discuss symbolism for events he has no idea about. Even if he did, his mind has gone blank of anything remotely useful. He knows how to stop a demon possession and how it feels to have someone else pilot his own body but that is not helpful for his quiz.

He waggles his pencil in his hand and tries to think but his hand is sweaty and he keeps glancing at the ticking timer. He can't think of a single useful thing. He feels a tightness beginning to form in his chest and he wants to be anywhere but here.

The presence within himself that he knows is Annabelle shifts. It coils around the ache in his chest and eases the knot between his shoulders.

I've read this one, she says and it jolts him from his panic. It was one of my favorites.

Ben's pencil stills in his hand. You think my mom would find out if you helped?, he thinks.

Her presence shivers in a silent jovial laugh. It's not as mocking as it had been as of late. I won't tell if you won't.

Ben finishes the quiz with time to spare. He and Annabelle play one person Tic Tak Toe, Ben controls the right hand and her the left. She wins most of the time. He blames it on the fact that her help with the test expended all of his luck.

It's a small thing but a week ago Annabelle wasn't doing anything more than wailing. He had missed her company.

_______

The school day passes without incident and he arrives home. He does any pressing assignments as quickly as he can, giving the rest of the time before the dance to Annabelle. He's sure she's going to take her time getting ready.

"Annabelle?" He asks aloud.

She doesn't respond with words but a burst of uncertain energy. A silent question.

"I have one more rule for tonight," at her attentive silence he continues. "You can do what you want, wear whatever, and eat whatever but nothing more than kissing," and it's weird to say all this out loud to his empty room save for himself and his things.

He had deliberated over this for a while. Turning it over in his mind as he trusts Annabelle not do something permanent like the tattoo he got from his clone and he doesn't think she'd sleep with anyone but he'd rather say it than not.

The thought of her initiating…something more than that has embarrassment crawling up his neck. His face is hot and he knows if he were to look it'd be pink. Would this somehow be less awkward if they were still together?, he thinks and he instantly regrets it at the blip of sadness Annabelle sends through his body. At least it cools some of the embarrassment.

I wouldn't dream of it, she answers.

"Good, good," he mutters and his face is still aflame. "Can you, feel how embarrassing that was to say?"

Yes, but it's nice to actually feel that again. When you're a ghost your face doesn't heat like that anymore, there's no blood to pump.

"Right, are you ready for full control? Just remember to tell mom that it's you."

I'm ready.

Ben closes his eyes and breaths in. The invisible tether jolts as it's grabbed. He breaths out and he's pulled into the depths of his mind.

Chapter Text

Annabelle goes from watching in a detached sense to being the one holding the reins. Even though she put herself there it is a disorienting endeavor. Unlike when she controlled him to do his hair or his left hand while playing Tik Tak Toe, Ben feels so far away. He’s still there of course, something on the edge of her thoughts but it’s like he’s asleep.

He's not present and it's frightening to bare the brunt of what he no longer upholds. The full combined amalgamation of his senses is almost too much. Bright joy flutters in the bodies chest but terror clings cold in its abdomen.

She can feel the hairs on his arms shift from the current created by his ceiling fan. She swears she can hear his heart beating and feel every pump of blood traveling through his veins. It's only amplified by her steadily rising overwhelmed terror.

After so many years of unfeeling, well and truly in the simplest of terms, is a cacophony of sensations she's grown unused to.

She stands there, with a throat tight with emotion. Her vision begins to warp and she realizes that the tightness has extended to burning. A familiar kind. Hands fly to the bodies neck and she nearly expects to feel his hands wrapped around it.

The fear lessens the barest amount when it remains clear that the only hands there are Ben's. The ones she placed there. With it she's reminded that living things must breath and blink.

She takes a greedy lungful of air, gasping and delighting in the sensation of air refilling lungs that have long since been withheld of it. Unwittingly the body shakes and she cannot stop it. It's tremors alleviate all else, something small to focus on as she breaths and blinks until it becomes an ingrained automated process once more.

She blinks away the tears and waits for the tremors to die, for life to fit around her as snug as it once had before she attempts to move.

She takes a step and this should be the easy part. Even as a ghost she did this, performed it every day but this too is a challenge. There is a tangible weight behind her steps now, she had forgotten how deliberate she must be with every one. The foot connects with the floor and she's overdone it. The step sounds as a stomp.

She goes for the other foot and it's only marginally better. She still nearly falls however, as Ben is much taller then she is. Even in her kitten heels.

She practices going around and across his room before she attempts any new terrain. Her steps force lessens and she stops teetering with every one. It still isn't quite right, that she can feel but it's the best she will get for now. She goes to his door and tries to exit how she normally would.

All that accomplishes is a sore nose and head. Right, phasing isn't applicable to her anymore. That's the one and only thing to miss. She grasps the handle and this is far easier than walking. The brush and pencil was ample practice as muted as it was.

She pushes open the door and makes her way down the hall. It's the same halls as always but the perspective has shifted with her newfound height. The other ghosts stare at her passing as they are aware of what is transpiring. Little stays hidden when walls and doors are of no consequence.

Some of their gazes burn with jealously and she wishes she could shout at them. To plead her innocence from their ire because she did not ask Ben to do this. But she stays silent, as that won't absolve her guilt. And she won't spit on such a gift.

She reaches the stairs and she clings to the railing. Balance is still an issue and she is frighteningly aware of how this body can get hurt. How whatever she does can change it. It is not static as she was.

When she reaches the bottom she looks to the front desk but Katherine isn’t there. She doesn’t want to waste time by slowly walking around to find them, even if she’s getting better with every minute.

“Katherine? Esther?” And it is Ben’s voice that speaks it. It is no less strange than the first time.

She stands there, waiting as she rocks on the bodies heels. Good practice for her balance, and she won't come to seriouse harm if she falls. She waits, and then she hears footsteps. Katherine rounds the corner and into her line of sight.

"There you are I-"

Katherine cuts her off. "You don’t have to explain Annabelle.”

Annabelle stops rocking. "How did you know it was me?”

“Mothers intuition. Plus dealing with literal clones of my son has made me pretty good at picking him out from look-a-likes.”

"Do you have anything I could wear to the dance?" She blurts. Strange happenings aren't strange at all on the hotel's grounds. "Ben said it was okay," she adds.

Miss Freeling smiles. "I might have a couple of old dresses that'll fit with a little adjusting," and she leans closer and whispers like it's a secret, "I've been saving them for Esther when she's older but you can test them out," with a gentle nudge before she's disappearing up the stairs.

Annabelle is struck by how warm she was. The area she had touched stays warm and she presses the bodie's fingers into the spot to keep it there. A wave of melancholy courses through her, she wants her mom. She presses the fingers in harder and reminds herself of what she has. That the past is dead and buried.

Miss Freeling returns with an armful of clothes and a full bag hanging off of her other one. Annabelle immediately drops her hand. The woman doesn't notice as she breezes past her with a quick, "Let's get you ready."

She follows and the spot grows cold. A dull ache from the pressing finger is left in its wake. She wonders if the skin bruised, if it's another one to add to the ever present ones around her neck, shown or not. The pain dissolves as soon as she lays eyes on what Katherine is laying out on the kitchen table.

Makeup covers one side, at least that's what she's lead to believe. She recognizes some of the brands from when she was alive even if their packages don't lend her a clue into what they do. Sure, there's been a couple female residents here and there but the changes in makeup packaging have slipped her notice.

It is something that has easily escaped the mind. Even with all the commercials about it on the television box.

There's a mirror too but what really snags her attention is the dresses. They're gorgeous. She isn't spoiled for choice, there's only three of them but she's grateful for each and every one. She hurries over to them and runs a hand across them. They feel as good as they look.

Katherine fondly chuckles behind her at her excitement and Annabelle feels an embarrassed blush color her cheeks. It's telltale burn has never felt so welcome.

"You missed this didn't you?" The other woman comments as she settles herself into a chair.

Annabelle can hardly find it within herself to speak as transfixed as she is. All she can manage is a weak, "Yes," more breathed than words.

She studies them with a critical eye as she touches each one. The first looks as if it would reach all the way to her ankles, maybe even past them with its fringes of lace hanging off of the bottom. It is white with lace sleeves and a flower design etched across it. Its neckline is rather scandalous, dipping lower than anything she'd wear. But she doesn't have to worry about that now does she?

The next is less fanciful but it has a homely charm to it. It is a light brown with puffy sleeves that would reach to the wrists. Its neckline is better than the last, a square with fringe encasing it. She can envision herself lounging around an estate in that one. Oh look at her, pictureing herself in some far off estate in a never coming future.

She frowns down at the dress and quickly moves to the last one. This one demands attention in a way that the others don't. It's also in stark contrast to her usual dress. A happy yellow as opposed to her dreary blues. It's only fitting. Its neckline poses a bit of an issue, but seeing as she's more lacking than ever it'll suffice.

Everything else more than makes up for it.

It's material is soft but sturdy. It's not scratchy like the white one or bordering on too soft like the one after that. It's a perfect balance between the two. It's construction isn't something she's seen before. Its sleeves are straps, with bows tied at the top of each one while the skirt dissolves into ruffled layers.

Another time she might have called it silly or arduous but she can't explain why she wouldn't now. Maybe it has something to do with the woman who's gifting it. Yellow is a color she often wears, it adorns her shoulders now in her signature shawl. And a change could be nice.

The white dress is too like what she normally wears, the brown one too foreign and this one is somehow both of them. She picks it up and turns to Katherine, who has been patiently waiting this entire time.

Katherine's eyes grow soft at her pick. A melancholy of her own coloring them but it doesn't damped the glimmer of joy an ounce. "That is a good one," she agrees. "You know, that is the dress I wore to my first school dance too."

"You had good taste," Annabelle says and she regards the dress with a new perspective. Knowing there's a history tied to it, and she gets to be apart of it is heartening. It has warmth lighting in her chest as her excitement for the evening rises.

She can't wait to put it on. Now, where-

Her thoughts are cut off as Katherine speaks. "There's a pantry behind you and to the left, you can change in there."

Annabelle resists the urge to ask how she could have possibly known what she was thinking. It's probably something to do with motherly instincts as she had mentioned before.

Aware of the encroaching time limit she quickly locates it and goes inside. She manages to remember to turn the handle and push as opposed to the near ingrained instinct to walk through it. The heart beating in the bodies chest is a very effective reminder.

She shuts the door behind her and feeling along the wall, locates a light switch. She busies herself with changing and this proves a bit of a challenge. She has to bend down to get out of the pants and it makes her wobble at the shift in weight distribution. She bumps into the wall but quickly corrects herself.

Everything except for his underwear she slips off into a pile. She shivers in the exposed skin. It’s a feeling she’s familiar with yet it’s tinged with detachment. It is not her body that is nearly bare. It has muscles she doesn’t, and a nonexistent chest or curves. She runs a hand from the chest down to his hip and marvels at the feeling all the same.

A warm gentle touch. She settles the hand on his hip and finds the tattoo. She gently traces its swirling design. Another reminder that this body isn’t hers, it is borrowed. A giddy excitements ignites in the chest all the same at getting to do this. To feel these sorts of things again after so long without.

Getting the dress on is easier. It’s indescribable how right it feels against the bodies skin. The swish of the skirt as she moves and how wonderful it must look. She feels prettier than she has in years. However, she can’t get the zipper all the way up and she fears it just won’t go.

She exits the pantry turned changing room and Miss Freeling lights up at the sight of her. She straightens in her chair from the relaxed slump she had taken and her eyes glitter with joy. She claps her hands in a small applause.

Annabelle can feel herself blush as she dutifully turns so the woman can get a better view.

“It suits you,” Katherine says and when Annabelle is facing her again her eyes have turned puzzled. "Let me see if I can do something about that zipper though," she mutters and she's turned to rummage around the kitchen.

Annabelle awkwardly stands in the middle of the kitchen. Hands flutter by her chest with the old instinct to cover it where the fabric dips too far for comfort. Only to be reminded for the hundredth time that there is really nothing to cover. The instinct persists, and she clutches the fabric close to the bodie's chest regardless.

She's debating between sitting down or staying exactly where she is when the sounds of Miss Freeling's search g ceases. The woman turns and with something that Annabelle cannot see clutched in her hand, steps behind her. Unwittingly, she can feel the bodies shoulders rise in answer to her nervous state. It was a wholly uneeded to something she did not ask.

Fingers trace along the back of the dress, right where the zippier lays. Her fingers smooth out the fabric and although it is a thick material Annabelle can feel the warmth of her touch. It puts her at ease as Katherine assesses the situation.

She tugs on the fabric at the back and her other hand, still clutching some unknown item, taps at an arm. "Stop clutching at the dress please. It won't work otherwise," and her words are less soft then they have been. She's been around the other woman enough times to recognize that tone. She's focused on a task.

No matter how weird it feels to do, Annabelle lowers the bodie's arms loosely at its sides. The dress droops in the front, loose in ways it shouldn't be while simultaneously being too tight in the back. Perhaps she had made a mistake in reverting to the way things have been. In chooseing a dress but she had missed this so damn much.

Shopping has always been a delight. She adores it. The hours spent wandering between shops as she imagines how every shiny bit or pretty bobble would fit into her life. This was as close as she was going to get. Katherine often forgets that even if she can't always see them they can hear her. The woman's woes over money are not quiet affairs when her children slumber.

Annabelle would have loved a shopping trip but it wouldn't be worth such a thing. Not when they're collectively giving her this. She's caused enough strain no matter how deserved she has viewed it. It's almost funny, the girl she was in life would have never done such a thing. She would have demanded a shopping trip and more.

Her thoughts receed, another old habit to pass the time before the Freelings had moved in, as the dress jerks against her. She watches it shift upwards against the skin as a soft scrape. It adjusts as Katherine's hands pull at the fabric behind her.

Then again in a manner that feels familiar before there's a frustrated huff, and Katherine doesn't tap the arm this time. Without a word and with a practiced ease that only Ben's mother would have, she wrangles the bodie's arms upwards and away from the dress. The fabric is no longer trapped beneath his armpits. His thankfully, not-as-hairy-as-she-had-remembered-them-being armpits.

Annabelle holds them aloft as wordlessly instructed and tries to be a mannequin as Katherine works. She still hasn't the faintest idea as to what the woman is doing but she finds she doesn't care. It is a strangely soothing situation.

Miss Freeling's hands lightly touching the bodie's back as she adjusts the dress. The words muttered so quietly that she cannot make them out, the huffs of annoyance when things aren't working and the pleased hums when they do. It is life at its simplest and the warmth it and Katherine's touch gives soothes something deep within her.

After adjustment and adjustment, few questions on comfort peppered in there, the dress is fixed. It sits as it should at the bodies chest, and it is still tight at the back but not to a noticeable degree. Most notable is after a few movement tests it holds up. She could perhaps dance the Charleston!

Annabelle isn't quite sure how it happened but she's soon seated in a chair in front of that mini mirror and the many items scattered near it. She is too busy marveling at the reflection of how she looks in the dress to care for the simple fact of how she got there. Ben should consider wearing these, he pulls it off well, she thinks as she poses slightly. Admiring from a different angle.

"Have you had your makeup done before Annabelle?" Katherine asks as her fingers drum against the back of the chair she's sitting in.

She can't help but to scoff at such a question. "Of course, it was no fib when I said I appeared in some picture shows. There was staff for that but I can't say that I'm familiar with what you have now."

"Hmm well I'm not a highly trained professional but I could take a crack at it."

Annabelle nods and his hair annoying flops into the eyes. Hopefully something can be done about that. "Please do."

Katherine moves in front of her and gets to work. She sifts through plastic containers that she has no idea what they house. Even when said containers are opened they're not enlightening in the least. There are some she recognizes. Such as mascara, as although the packaging has drastically changed since her time the application is the same. At least as Katherine had explained.

They fall into an easy rythym of guiding touches and amiable silence as Katherine tests the makeup via lines on her arms. She'll ask her opinion on what colors she would prefer here and there but there hasn't been much. Katherine has just started to apply foundation to the face when they are interrupted.

"Are you still getting ready?" A voice sounds as Esther flops into an empty chair.

"Beauty takes time," Annabelle responds.

Esther snorts and begins to laugh and she struggles to contain herself. "Sorry, sorry. It's not you it's just-" she snorts again the sound rattling from her chest. "I just can't take you seriously when you look like my brother." And she shamelessly dissolves into a fit of giggles.

Annabelle glares at her and she quiets herself with a cough. "A very pretty version of him," she adds in an effort to spare herself from Annabelle's ire.

She narrows her eyes and Esther's smile grows wobbly round the edges. Good. She sniffs in her direction, a direct snub to her character. "I don't see you doing anything to hurry this along. If that's what you're so concerned about."

Esther lets out a dramatic gasp and turns to her mother. Who offers her no such support. In fact she takes Annabelle's side. "She's not wrong kiddo. The sooner she's sent to the dance the sooner I can get started on dinner."

Ha!

Esther gets a determined look on her face but instead of causing chaos worthy of what Abaddon would do she leaves the room. Annabelle can feel a blip of dread pool in the bodies gut but she's rendered immobile until Miss Freeling is done applying the makeup.

Annabelle closes her eyes as a brush carefully applies a powder to her lids. She only opens them again when she feels something touch Ben's hair. "What are you doing?"

A hand waves into view and Esther speaks from behind. "Hurrying things along. And don't worry I'm not pranking you or anything."

Annabelle has her doubts but one look at her unconcerned mother and it dissolves. Katherine would not let Esther make her look a fool. She relaxes once more and lets the feeling of their small touches lull her into a waking sleep.

Their touches eventually wane and she blinks awake as the small mirror is thrust into the bodie's hands. The sight that greets her almost moves her to tears. It is a near thing.

Who stares back is undoubtably Ben, there is no erasing that, but it's herself too. Katherine has made her face appear softer, more feminine without trimming his eyebrows. Ben's hair is styled away from the face with adorable matching bows and what looks like small pearl inserts.

She turns the head slowly as she looks and she can feel the happy tears welling. She puts the mirror down so as not to ruin Katherine's hard work. "I look beautiful," she says. The girls break out into matching smiles despite Esther's earlier complaints.

"Damn right you do!" Esther says and reaches a hand out to give her a high-five. Annabelle gives it to her and marvels at the brief stinging that ignites over Ben's palm.

She gets up and looks down at the bodie's feet. They're still clad in sneakers. "Do you have any other shoes I could wear?"

Katherine considers this. "Let me check," and she disappears.

It leaves her and Esther alone. "I-" they both start and then stop. They break into giggles the two of them.

"You go first," Annabelle insists.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry, for earlier."

Annabelle waves a hand in her direction. "Water under the bridge. I just have to say thank you for what you've done to Ben's hair. It's lovely."

Esther nods and gives her a quick hug. It's so fast that Annabelle doesn't have time to return it. Besdies, Katherine returns with shoes. A pair of white kitten heels.

"These should fit," she says as she hands them off.

Annabelle puts them on and they indeed do. She gives a little twirl, admiring what they've managed to pull together in order for her to feel more like herself. Then there's a snapping sound and she looks up to see Katherine with her phone out.

"For the memories," she answers to her quizzical look. She turns the device so that Annabelle can see and it's as she expected. Ben all dolled up in the dress, a look of pure joy on his features as the dress twirls around his legs. What she didn't expect is to see herself. She's manifested as a thin transparent form over his body. It's beautiful and she hopes he likes it when he sees it.

Katherine gently nudges her shoulder. "Let's get you to that dance, wouldn't want to be late."

She follows Katherine out to the car and slides into a seat. Excitement thrums in her veins as they start their journey back to the school.

_______

The dance is spectacular. The gymnasium is decked out with balloons in the schools colors. Navy blue and deep red. Streamers hang from the ceiling as music thumps through the entire room. It's so loud it reverberates in the bodies chest and she fights the urge to break out into dance right then and there.

Other kids stare at her, gawking with open mouths but she brushes them off. She's here to enjoy herself and by jove she will.

She dances with a ferver unlike any she has had before. The music is unfamiliar to her but it snakes its way up the bodie's legs and anchors itself there. She dances as she always has, the whole body moving as she kicks and hops. Arms swinging to and fro and in sweeping arcs to accent every flourish of the legs.

They stare, they catch flies but it is so easy to ignore them. The muscles of the bodie start to burn and ache it's the most wondrous thing. It's been an age and she's missed it so much something in the bodies chest aches. A sweat has broken out upon the skin but she persists.

Yellow flashes in her peripheral vision and she knows it's her. What a sight she must be. Flouncing around in such a splendid dress. It's only fitting that the rest of the students clear a section for her.

But the body tires and she can't force it to move anymore. She retreats, panting and even that is wanted. The burn in the lungs, the staccato breaths it means living. She can't tell how long she's been here or what songs have played. She's been in her own world but as she steps back and looks around she realizes that everybody else is slowing down and pairing up.

Traitorously, her heart pangs with memories of Ben. How they had tried to dance just as his classmates currently are but with less than satisfactory results. The memory is bitter sweet and it's what rolls around in her mind as she locates refreshment.

She finds it at a lonely little table, most everybody else on the dance floor or crowding round one of the many foldable tables. She's free to browse the selection. It's the usual affair, crackers, chips and some sad cheese cubes. There is punch however and she quickly ladles herself a cup of it.

She guzzles it down and she doesn't taste a thing. She gets another and that one she does. It's fizzy and sweet with a bit of a tang to it. It's the first thing she's tasted in years and it's spectacular. She makes sure to sip on this one, she would hate to make herself sick.

But with her thirst satiated hunger makes itself known as a loud twisting in the bodies gut. Another thing she had almost forgotten that the living need. Annabelle browses the meager selection once more and settles on a handful of crackers. These too are as delicious as the punch due to the lack of anything else to compare it to she's sure.

As she eats a boy catches her eye. He's shorter than Ben, but not by much. He has dark curly hair and dark eyes to match set into healthy tanned skin. He's wearing a black button down and a deep purple vest and pants. It's a bolder choice than she'd expect. Most of the other boys here have chosen for black, white and red.

Classic colors but so overdone. He makes a pretty picture but what catches her attention the most is his nose. It's hooked, protruding from his face as it curves downwards. She gets the urge to kiss it, and he's walking right over to her.

She panics and stuffs the last bit of cracker into the bodies mouth. She nearly chokes on it but manages to save herself with the last of her punch. The boy stands in front of her now and he's even prettier up close. In that awkward charming way as he currently fidgets and works up the coourage to speak to her.

This is a time she doesn't mind waiting. They're so cute when they get flustered. He's blushing too, his cheeks slightly darker but it's hard to tell with him. Finally, he works up the nerve.

"I- I liked your dancing," he blurts and his voice wavers and cracks. Lending that adorable blush to flare.

"Thank you," she says and she deliberately looks him over. "I like your vest. You look good in purple," she says and damn Ben's voice gives everything away.

It's grown slightly deeper than it was and she hates that it has. But the other boy's blush darkens and maybe it's not all that bad.

"Thank you," the boy says. "My name's Asha, yours?"

"Annabelle," she blurts like a damned fool.

The boy blinks and he grows puzzled. She waits for some of the cruel words she's heard thrown her way tonight. She's ignored them thus far but that will be harder to get away with now. She can feel the body tense but the boy doesn't say anything close to what she expects.

"I thought your name was Ben?"

She blinks and she feels the warmth of the body blushing at her stupid mistake now that the threat of harassment has dispersed. She wracks her brain for an excuse as to why it would suddenly be different and all she can come up with is, "I just wanted to try something new."

The boy smiles, "I like it."

And she swears it's lit up the room. The music is beginning to swell once more but she can't differentiate between that and her soaring heart. At least she can blame her blushing on her earlier embarrassment.

"Do you-" and the rest of his words are drowned out by the music.

"What?" She shouts over the noise but it's clear he can't hear her.

She sees him sigh more than hear it. His head moves back with the motion and his mass of dark curls moves with him. She has to clutch at her dress to stop herself from moving the stray strands out of his face. He waves her towards him, and extends his hand.

With a heartbeat of hesitance she takes it and for as ungraceful his movements have been he leads her through the crowd with an abundance of it. They weave through the sea of bodies and clouds of perfume and cologne until they make it into the school's empty hallway.

He doesn't let go of her hand.

They swing their joined hands and Annabelle can feel an almost manic sense of joy bubble in her chest. It travels upwards until it's bursting out of her throat as a most unladylike giggle. Asha joins her with giggles of his own and she feels his sweaty hand squeeze hers.

They walk a little ways down the hall until the music becomes like a muted memory. She manages to tear her eyes away from the boy beside her and clutched in her hand so she can survey the hallway. It is darkened and drab. None of the decorations inside of the gymnasium extend out into it and it's eerie to see them empty. She recalls them bustling during the day.

Their shoes click on the cold linoleum floor and the sound echos. It joins the muted music surprisingly well. Her manic joy dissipates with her laughter as they both quiet.

"What were you going to ask me?" She prods as they continue their slow walk in the empty halls.

Asha seems to come back to himself and he lets go of her hand so he can step back. He clears his throat and with an arm over his midsection he bows. He extends his hand once more and he looks up at her through his dark strands of hair.

"Do you want to dance with me?" He asks.

Annabelle feels her heart stop and for a terrifying moment she fears that this will all be ripped away from her in that split nanosecond. But it's rythym returns tenfold. She can feel the blood flushing her cheeks and making her dizzy as she dutifully extends her hand. She delicetly places it in his.

"I would be honored."

Asha smiles and it's goofy and not at all charming but a familiar feeling stirs in her gut regardless. It only worsens when Asha brings her hand up to his lips and kisses it before he straightens from his bow. He uses her hand to pull her closer and she lets him.

Just as she lets him put a hand on her waist. The muted music isn't the right song at all and Asha has two left feet but it is wonderful. His hands are warm and his arms surprisingly strong. They soon fall into step after step as they glide across the floor.

Annabelle can't believe how lucky she is. That this is real and happening to her of all people. The air between them is heavy with their body heat as they cling to one another. Moving to and fro as to wherever the music takes them. Her eyes never leave his, and his hers.

The school and everybody else in it seems to melt away. Time holds no meaning as they sway together.

She can see it in his eyes and on his face where this dance will lead. What he wants to do. The proper thing would be to wait until he makes the first move but hesitance is for the living. She leans in close, having to bend a little as she connects her lips with his.

She can feel his body stiffen in shock before he soon relaxes into it. His lips are soft and warm and it makes sparks fly in her chest. A warmth all her own and, it is everything she could ever want, she thinks as she comes up for air.

__________

Ben comes back to himself with a sense of wrongness and a healthy dose of confusion. He's currently blinking at another boy who's got a hand in his and one around his waist. Except the boy isn't looking at him, he's staring slack jawed at something above him. And judgeing from how pale his clearly tanned skin has turned it can't be good.

Ben follows the others gaze and, "Annabelle? Wha- how?" He sputters as too many things are happening. God, he can hardly deal with all the things hitting him at once.

His head feels like it's going to split apart with the memories of the night assaulting him. They filter in as gently as a sledgehammer and it's too much. But Annabelle is floating above him, a semi-sweet smile etched into her face. He puts his woes aside and pays attention.

"Thank you," she says, blowing him a kiss before, with a loud pop, she explodes into confetti.

The guy, who he's now remembering is named Asha, startles and Ben sinks to the floor. The coldness it provides is only somewhat soothing as hot tears carve down his face. Asha frets beside him, confusion clearly written across his face and oh fuck, Annabelle er himself? Kissed him. The thought makes him cry in earnest.

The tears double, snot drips from his nose and whatever makeup that coats his face is smudgeing and Annabelle is gone. He pulls his knees to his chest and hugs them close as a broken wail tares from his throat.

Asha, as confused as he his sinks down next to him. His hands hover over his shoulders for a moment before he abandons the notion. Instead a handkerchief is soon thrust in his direction. It's black to match his pants. Ben takes it and it hardly does anything but it's easy to see why Annabelle had picked him.

When the tears stop choking him and the ugly wails stop demanding to escape Ben can think again. He doesn't bother to pat at his sides before he asks, he already knows the answer. "Can I borrow your phone?" He asks Asha.

The boy doesn't hesitate as he quickly takes it out and unlocks it. He hands it over, the phone keypad already pulled up. Ben dials his mom. She picks up at the first ring.

"Mom?" He asks and he can feel the tears threatening to become unbearable again.

"Ben?" She says then, "Ah right Annabelle can't operate a phone and she didn't bring yours."

The concern in her tone makes his gut twist but he rips the bandage off. "Can you pick me up please?" He sniffs trying to clear his face with his loaned handkerchief but the tears refuse to stop.

"Ben wha-"

"I wanna go home, please," and he knows he's whining like a kid but it stops his mom from asking further. A promise that she'll be there soon and the line clicks off. Ben hands Asha his phone back.

"Thanks," he says.

Asha shrugs. "It's fine."

What going unsaid is almost choking him as much as the tears are. He doesn't know where to start, so he starts. "That girl i- was Annabelle," and he has to swallow down the way his heart tugs. "It's complicated but she was a ghost who I let posses me for the night and that was her leaving this plane of existence."

Asha nods numbly, his brown eyes wide with shock still. A beat passes and neither one of them rushes to fill it. Time is measured by his trickling flow of tears. Asha fidgets staring at him, then his own feet and then the spot in the air that Annabelle just was. He stares at it for a good long while before he finally looks back at Ben.

“Do you remember anything?”

Ben nods. "Yeah it’s all coming back to me now."

“Uhm sorry about the kiss then," Asha says and he looks ashamed to be saying it.

"What? No don’t be. I don’t-“ he sniffs and wipes his nose. Despite it all he can feel himself blush as he recalls it. Exactly how Asha's lips had felt against his and his hand on his waist. "I don’t mind it. The kiss was nice.”

Asha blushes and he looks as if he'll say something but then he's looking at his phone. He turns the screen to Ben and he sees that his mom has called him back. She's arrived then. Ben stands to take his leave.

“Are you going to be alright?” Asha blurts and he's half crouched as if he'll follow Ben out if he needs to.

Ben smiles and he doesn't mean one curve of it. “I will be."

Asha holds up a finger and he pats his pockets before pulling out a pen. He grabs his wrist. "Here," he says as he scrawls a series of numbers onto his skin. His thumb swipes across it when he's done. Does he even realize he did that? “In case you need someone to talk to about all of this."

And he knows that Asha is completely serious. This boy who's only known him for an evening and has had the paranormal suddenly thrust into his face is more concerned for Ben than himself. He can feel his smile tip into something more genuine. It is no longer a platitude for his sake.

Asha returns it and Ben pulls away. He finds his mother waiting for him, concern etched into every wrinkle but he can't speak a word of it. Not yet at least.

What happened hits him like a wave. It ebbs and flows with the memories and feelings. Mom and Esther helping Annabelle get ready, the dance itself and how Ben doesn't mind the dress one bit. He thinks that somehow, Annabelle knew he would like it.

He stares out at the trees as they zip past them on their journey home. He knows he'll have to explain what happened to everyone soon but he finds himself looking down at his wrist and the number scrawled across it in blue ink. He traces his thumb over it and he knows with certainty that he'll be alright.