Title: Misguided Ghosts

Rating: M

Summary: It started with a website and led to a pact. Somehow, it turned into one of the greatest and weirdest friendships.

A/N: Kay, so, we dont own Josh or Marianas Trench. (I think Dale wishes she owned Ramsay.) This wonderful opening chapter was written by Dale, I f'love it.

Chapter one: Josh Ramsay

3:00AM. I sighed, rolling over in my bed and readjusting the sheets so I was warmer. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply and honestly tried to sleep. When my eyes snapped open yet again, I glanced over at my clock. 3:05AM. I groaned angrily and kicked the blankets off my way too warm body. Pushing myself off the bed, I walked through my apartment, stopping off at my fridge for a can of coke zero. Sleep had always been an issue with me but lately it had seemed to get worse. The past heroin addiction I had conquered had stolen my ability to sleep normally, leaving me with a wicked case of insomnia.

Sighing again, I grabbed my laptop, a pack of cigarettes and my lighter and went to sit on my porch. The cold Vancouver air always seemed to pick me up in these cases. I placed a cigarette between my lips and lit it, inhaling slowly as I lifted the screen on my laptop. A little card fluttered down from the screen and landed in my lap. I picked it up, holding the cigarette between my index and middle finger, exhaling a stream of silver smoke. There was a note from Matt on one side and a website on the other.

Just in case you need someone to talk to.

-Matt

I flipped over the small card, inhaling again, tasting the bitter smoke behind my lips.

.com

Starting the laptop up, I carefully considered why Matt would think I needed someone to talk to. Sure I wasn't fairing so well right then but it was hardly a case of depression. It was merely a period of self-loathing. I exhaled again, watching the smoke blend with the stars. Maybe I would just try the website. See if it helped, not that I needed it. I opened an internet page and typed in the address, hearing a crack of thunder far off.

Lovely, I thought. Maybe the rain will connect with my laptop and electrocute me. Then I can sleep.

A small black screen appeared, with what appeared to be message boards littering the page. I clicked a button in the corner that read 'create your own blog'. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my black and white cat crawl over to me from his bed, so I directed my full attention to him, while the page loaded. I picked him up and cuddled him in my lap, holding my cigarette between my lips.

"What do you think Tux? Do I need someone outside of my life to talk to?" He looked up at me, blinked twice, and curled up, going to sleep. I sighed, smiling slightly at my cat before turning to the blank space to type in front of me. How should I start this?

Hello, my name is Joshua Ramsay.

No. I deleted the whole sentence and exhaled slowly. The fans didn't need to find this. Tux raised his ears at me as I hummed a small tune, breathing in more smoke.

My name is whatever you want it to be.

Why am I writing this? It's not like anyone is going to find this and fix me. Hah.

I guess I could use this as a sleep journal. Document my thoughts about insomnia?

So. Tonight? It's quarter after three in the morning. This is the fourth night of not being able to sleep. Usually on these nights, I write lyrics and music for the band I'm in as well as the bands I know. Lately, it seems like people are using me. They're asking too much from me. I'm so beyond tired and I just feel like self-destructing. I'm not talking about suicide. That's cowardly. But cutting? Oh god, what a sweet release. I used to do it when I was addicted to…

I've already said too much. I suppose I shall be back to report tomorrow night? For now? I guess I'll head back to bed, or the couch, stare at the ceiling and wish for a shooting star.

Until next time?

Tired and Desperate.

I clicked the send button and watched as my diary entry filed away with millions of other people, seeking solace for their depressions. I finished off my cigarette, put it out in the ashtray and turned off my laptop. Just then, thousands of tiny raindrops fell all over Vancouver, and covering my balcony. Tux jumped down from my lap and ran inside. I sighed and carried my laptop in, as to not ruin it. However I returned to my balcony and lit another cigarette. Leaning over the balcony I watched as Vancouver teemed with nightlife.

Inhale.

A couple of girls in short, neon skirts screeched loudly, stumbling out of a club.

Exhale.

One of the girls leans over and vomits all over the sidewalk. Lovely.

Inhale.

Her friends all laugh hysterically and hail a cab. I'm getting soaked.

Exhale.

I turn my eyesight to the left of me and spot a pair of thirteen-year-old boys.

Inhale. Flick the ashes away.

They pull of spray paint cans from a backpack and laugh quietly.

Exhale.

My lips twitch in a smile, reminiscing about the days when I was their age. Oh the rebellion.

Inhale.

They go to work on a mural that I will have to check out in the morning, but I wont say anything.

Exhale.

The rains getting heavier and they're getting paranoid. My smoke goes out with the rain, and I shake the water out of my bangs slightly. I sighed, cursing quietly and dropped the cigarette in the ashtray before walking back into my apartment. Sliding the door closed, I turned to see Tux glaring at me.

"What? Go find Anenomie to warm you up." I smirked, collapsing on my couch. I turned on the TV, flipping through random channels. As I watched the fuzzy images move across my screen, my eyes fluttered close. When I opened them again, the sun was high in the sky and the rain had dried up.