How's it goin. Long time, no see, eh? I know I said I'd probably have 'From Yesterday' done or mostly finished by now, but it's been rough-it was 2016, okay? Also when Sister Location came out, I thought of this short. It…doesn't really have much to do with Sister Location's deep story line- but I thought those of you who read To Tomorrow would be entertained with this little short.

"There! There! He just made a right at Cemetery Road!"

"He's going into the neighborhood!"

"Kids, get through the back entrances! Cut off his exits and we'll take him from the main entrance!"

"Vince, he's already gone!"

Mike skidded to a halt at the entrance to his own neighborhood, Lydia Estates. It was midnight, or a few minutes after. The crisp fall night air filled his heaving lungs and stung his nose. Just behind him and to his left was the town park, and across from that was the dark and infamous Cemetery Road, leading to the lonely three-way intersection that-when taking a left-would lead directly to an abandon warehouse.

Having abandon the decaying, dull-yellow robot suit, the pale violet-white ghost of Vincent hovered just beside him, his frizzy hair tied back into a loose ponytail. His shimmering ghost eyes scanned the area and he snapped his fingers. Even with his ghost-feet on the pavement, his tall, lanky shape towered over Mike. There was a ghost-manifested radio in his hand. He held down a button.

"Kids," He said into it. "Where'd you see him?"

The voice of a girl responded through the speaker. "I don't know; one minute he was here and the next he wasn't it's like he just teleported!" In a somewhat saddened voice she said, "I'm sorry, Vincent."

Vincent snapped in frustration, but when he spoke into the radio his voice was calmed. "It's okay; it's not your fault. This one's tricky."

The voice of a boy spoke through the speaker. "You say that about ALL of them!"

Vincent ignored him and turned to Mike. "Can you search for him? He can't be far from the neighborhood."

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "Give me a minute…" He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He let his vision stretch all throughout the streets of the neighborhood, racing to each end and entrance. Towards the back of the neighborhood, he could see a garbled pale mass flying away. His vision flew backwards and became normal again. He felt a pinching sensation in his forehead, but he shook it away. "He's taking the back road- the one leading to the city…" He thought for a minute. "He'll probably go to Palms Place- it's a neighborhood off of that road. It's a lot different than this one- more trees and nature than houses."

Vincent nodded. "Thanks." He spoke into the speaker again. "Kids take the back road going towards the city and find Palms Place- he should be there or on the way."

"On it!" Five voices responded through the radio.

From behind Mike there was the smooth grinding of rollerblades on asphalt. Just a few inches shorter than him and as skinny as ever with a floral patterned scarf tied around her neck was Marionette, skating up to his side on rollerblades. She'd gotten them a few months ago and wore them everywhere.

When she caught up to him, she heaved over and put her hands on her skinny knees. "How can you run so fast? I'm on rollerblades!"

"Skinny on the outside, fatty on the inside." Vincent said. He raised his eyebrows at her. "That's you, Mary."

She made a face at him and Mike laughed.

"Come on," Vincent lifted off of the ground and soared into the neighborhood. "This is the quickest way to Palms Place; we need to hurry if we're ever going to have luck catching that ghost."

Mike and Marionette followed him at a brisk pace, weaving with quiet ease through the sleeping neighborhood. As they passed Mike's house, a slightly overweight Doberman pinscher howled at them.

It had been a while since the fire that destroyed the pizzeria where Mike had worked and his friends who lived there. Since then, life hadn't been too bad. The days were easy and the nights were calm…well, as calm as they could get with ghosts for your only other friends.

Vincent had kept his promise. After running off the ruthless spirit that plagued the warehouse, he and the ghost children studied the behavior of spirits left on the Earth plane and did whatever they could to help them cope with being left behind. More often than not, Mike and Marionette were roped into their ghost-hunting adventures. Talking to and calming a ghost was one thing, catching them was another.

As he ran, Mike's right eye was looking at the street he ran on, seeing it normally; the other was looking far ahead, planning out his path so that he wouldn't run the wrong way. Since the fire, he'd spent time working on and controlling the way he expanded his vision. He'd gotten past the headaches and could stretch his vision out for as far as a seven mile radius.

"What are you looking at?" Marionette asked, throwing a sideways glance at him with her white-pupil eyes.

"Just the path ahead." Mike said. Suddenly a shadow approached in his right eye and clouded his vision. "What…?" His eyes stung. "Agh!"

"Mike…? What are yo k…." Marionette's voice became muffled behind a wave of garbled sound that pierced his eardrums.

Mike shook his head, trying to clear his vision of the shadows that clogged his sight. He couldn't see, not even when he pulled his sight back to the way it should be. His shoulder slammed hard into something and he spun and fell. Marionette and Vincent zipped passed him, and Mike could faintly hear Vincent yelling excitedly through the radio.

Having fallen on the asphalt, Mike pushed himself up-now facing the path he'd come from- and realized he'd ran right into a person. They had fallen as well. The garbling in Mike's ears didn't stop. The stranger, nearly three yards from him, was frantically staggering to their feet.

"Hey…" Mike frowned.

The stranger stared at him and Mike suddenly felt a pounding in his head. The stranger was a young man, maybe just a few years younger than him, with violet-pink eyes that pierced him like daggers. He stared at Mike for a moment, turned, and sprinted away into the night.

Mike gripped the sides of his head, the pain hammering into his skull so harshly he gnashed his teeth and fought down a cry. His vision was blurring and he squeezed his eyes shut. He was faintly aware of Marionette standing near him and calling out his name. But, as he faded into darkness, the voices he heard didn't belong to her.

"Good grief! Who was that?!"

"Jesus, couldn't one of us have warned the kid?"

"What do you mean 'warn him'?! It's not like WE can do anything about it!"

"Quiet up, all of ye- the poor lad might hear us…"

His senses went numb.


Morning light filtered through the pale curtains of the small bedroom. Mike opened his eyes and realized he was laying face-down on his bed. He rolled over onto his back. The transparent gold seeping in through the windows turned his room to a soft yellow color. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table. It was ten-thirty in the morning; Saturday. Just next to the clock, glittering and fracturing the light, was the mysterious snow globe of a pirate ship with a figure of Foxy at the bowsprit and a figure of Mike himself in the crow's nest. He stared at it for a minute, admiring the way it never looked old. The glass was never smudged. The plaque was never dull. It never collected a single speck of dust.

Despite the warmness of the room, it was most likely chilly outside. Mike sat up on his bed, his headache had vanished. The events of the night before swam dimly in his mind; he had been chasing ghosts…and then bumped into a stranger…A really strange stranger, at that. He rose from his bed and stretched, cracking his back.

Heaving a sigh, he left his bedroom and made a sharp left to the bathroom, where he splashed water in his face and looked in the mirror. He didn't look a day over twenty three, though in reality he was just a few years older. Marionette told him it was because of his eyes. They were big and round- 'curious' she had said. His hair was still as short as it'd always been. He'd tried to grow it out longer, just enough so that he could comb it and style it, but it had made him look like a high-school drug addict. He had a clean shave; the only time he'd tried to grow any sort of facial hair Marionette had pointed and laughed and told him he looked like a seven-year-old with fake stubble. It was no use, trying to look any older than he did. He was plain, it seemed. He wasn't handsome or ugly; he didn't have a square, set jaw and he didn't have a round baby face. He wasn't fat, and he wasn't muscular, and he wasn't lean and lanky. He was…average.

And that's what life had been since the event at the beginning of the summer; A bit sad, but mostly average. Now summer was over. He had started studying at the local college when fall rolled around. He had picked up the bassoon. Marionette had scoffed at him when he did, but shortly after she'd picked up the violin. She played it as if she'd been playing it her whole life.

Down the hall behind him, he heard a stirring from the couch. It was only then he realized that the television was on. He could see black feet hanging off over the armrest of the couch. His roommate, Marionette, was sitting (or lying) there watching TV.

Mike ran a hand through his short hair and lumbered tiredly down the hall to where she was. The sounds of the television became clearer and he noticed it was an episode of their favorite show, Chanteys.

"Is that a new one?" He asked with a yawn.

"Yeah," Marionette said, not looking at him. She was sitting with her feet over the armrest of the couch and her torso turned to face the television. Mike had said she looked awkward, but she'd told him it was comfortable. She was eating a small plate of eggs and bacon. "It's the one we missed when we were helping Vince last night."

Mike looked up at the television screen.

"And, being the good friend that you are, you went ahead and decided to watch it without me. I'm touched." He said sarcastically.

"You're darn right I did this one's great." She looked up at him. "Anyways I didn't know when you were going to wake up. After you ran into that jogger last night you blacked out and I had to carry you all the way back home. Without anyone's help." She narrowed her white-pupil eyes.

"Jogger?" Mike echoed, lacking in sympathy for her task. "He wasn't jogging- he was sprinting. It looked like he was running away from something."

Marionette shrugged. "I wasn't paying attention."

"And I'll have you know I didn't just 'black out'- something weird happened with my vision. It got all black and cloudy and I couldn't hear anything. Then right before I blacked out I heard…voices."

"Voices?" Marionette suddenly looked concerned. "What kind of voices?"

"I don't know, they sounded like…" Mike rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know."

"Well I won't mention much of it- since things have always been weird with you," Marionette adjusted her position on the couch. "But if it happens again, you should really talk to Vincent about it. He's an expert on schizophrenia."

"Schizophrenic?" Mike shook his head. "I don't think I am." But a gust of worry swept through him even so.

"Mike, there's no shame in it." Marionette rose from the couch with her plate and went into the kitchen. "Majority of all schizophrenics are completely harmless to everyone around them…there's just a tiny percentage in which some of them are."

Mike shrugged and yawned. "I'm gonna go change and probably practice my bassoon." He said, motioning towards his room.

Marionette poked her head out of the kitchen with a little frown. "No you're not."

"I'm not?"

"No, we're doing yard work today, remember?" She gestured outside to the front yard. "Raking and shit."

"Oh, right, I forgot." He grumbled and went to his room. "I'll be out in a minute."

Outside, the fall air was crisp and cold. Marionette had a warm scarf tied around her mouth and wore small brown boots with fur on the inside. Brown, dark red, dull orange, and tarnished golden leaves were scattered across the yard of the house. It was a simple house of gray brick seated neatly in between two larger houses with white-painted wooden fences surrounding them. Mike's house was slightly more open with a chain-link fence separating the garage and the open road from the front yard where Spike could run freely without being in danger of getting hit by a car.

Already, Marionette could hear a squealing voice coming from the neighbor to their right. Their awful neighbor, Helen, had finally moved out and another couple had moved in, bringing their daughter, Tulia, with them. Tulia was six with skin colored like a latte and dark brown hair in bushy pig-tails on her head. Sometimes she was annoying and sometimes she was sweet.

Marionette had already started raking leaves, creating a small pile in the middle of the yard. Spike was panting on the front porch, watching her work with a doggy-smile on his face. The front door opened and Mike stepped out in a dark brown coat and a beanie over his head.

"Jeez it's cold," he said, picking up the second rake that was leaning against the porch. He trotted down the porch steps and over to Marionette. "You'll get the front yard; I'll get the back yard. Sound good?"

Marionette nodded. "Then we'll get the sides."

"Alright." He took his rake and went around to the back yard, disappearing from sight.

For a while, they worked in the morning light. There wasn't a single cloud and the sky, and it was windy, which kept them from getting hot under the sun's rays. Unfortunately, a windy day meant that more leaves would be blown into the yard and their neat piles of leaves would be disrupted. The work wasn't hard, just tedious and plentiful.

Marionette had almost completely finished the front yard when she heard a yell from the back yard.

"Marionette!" Mike called.

"What?!" She yelled back.

"C'mere!"

She gave a little groan and walked around the house to the back yard, dragging her rake with her. At the back of the house, Mike was standing near the woods behind the yard, his arms crossed, looking curiously at the dark navy roof of the house.

"What?" She asked, a little annoyed.

"Look." Mike pointed to the roof. She followed his gaze and backed up to where he stood and saw a bright pink pony seated calmly on the slanted part of the roof.

Marionette tilted her head with a frown. "Is that one of Tulia's toys?"

"Yeah. I think she threw up there."

"How did she manage to do that?"

"Don't look at me, I don't know."

"What do you want to do about it?"

Mike looked at the sticks that littered the yard near the trees and grinned. "Bet you five bucks you can't get it down with one of these."

She grinned. "You're on."

They grabbed sticks and twigs and little hickory nuts from the yard and hurled them at the toy on the roof, trying to cause it to fall from its perch. After five minutes, nothing had happened. Disappointed, the two stopped and studied the toy on the roof, deep in thought.

"The hose." Mike said.

"Mm." Marionette gave a nod.

Five minutes later, they had drug the green garden hose around the house and Mike held it in his hand. Marionette turned the facet and Mike pressed down on the garden nozzle's level. A light shower fell out of the nozzle.

"Hey, nothing's happening." Mike called.

Marionette looked up at him and frowned. "That's because you have it set to 'sprinkle', dummy!" She said, marching over to him. "You need to set it to jet!"

He gave a half chuckled. "Oh, yeah, I forgot." He turned the nozzle to the preferred setting. When he pressed the lever again, a violent jet of water burst from the end of the nozzle and onto the tiny back porch of the house (which was just behind the kitchen), spraying the wood with icy water.

"You're supposed to spray the toy on the roof." Marionette whispered to him.

He stuck his tongue out at her and she snickered. He pointed the nozzle towards the little pink toy and sprayed at it. Unfortunately, the water wouldn't reach that high.

"The ladder." Mike said.

"Mm." Marionette nodded.

Five minutes later, Marionette came around the side of the house again, tugging with her the rickety wooden ladder Mike kept in the garage. She set it up unsteadily in the grass and Mike climbed on. It wobbled underneath his feet and Marionette stood behind him in case he fell, eyeing him uncertainly.

Mike pressed down on the garden hose lever again and the jet of water hit the glittery pink toy. Only, the water stream pushed the toy farther up the roof, instead of knocking it down. Mike took his thumb off of the lever.

He and Marionette both tilted their heads and frowned slightly at the toy.

Mike looked down at her from the ladder. "Wanna get McDonald's?"

"Yeah."

They abandon their yard work, ladder, hose, and roof-toy and walked around to the front of the house, heading to the side gate to get to the garage. As they did, Mike saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked across the street to the house in front of his. The 'For Sale' sign that had been there for years was gone. A young man with thin strawberry blonde hair that steered clear of his eyes walked out of the front door and down to his mailbox. Mike didn't need to expand his vision to see the man's bright pink-violet eyes.

Mike frowned at him, recognizing him as the man he bumped into the night before. "Who's that?" He asked Marionette.

"Hm?" She looked up and followed his gaze. "Oh, look at that. New neighbor!" She smiled at him. "We should get him a house-warming gift while we're out."

"Why?" Mike frowned.

"Because I've never done that before and I feel like we should welcome him nicely into the neighborhood as good members of the community." Marionette said.

"You didn't do that for Tulia and her family." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"That's because as soon as Tulia stepped out of the car, I waved, and she threw her Barbie and it hit me in the face." Marionette muttered grudgingly.

Mike chuckled and rolled his eyes, opening the gate. "Alright, I'll check how much cash I have." But as she walked on to the garage, he stole another glance at the young man. He had a hipster look about him, and leaned on his hip as he looked at his mail. Mike frowned and followed Marionette.

After getting and eating lunch, the two went to the dollar store and bought their new neighbor an analog clock- it was the only thing they could agree on. As they drove back to the neighborhood (with Marionette at the wheel), they continued to argue about it.

"I still think we should've gotten him the soaps." Marionette said.

"Marionette, what is a single guy gonna do with a bunch of fancy smelling soaps?" Mike asked.

"Use them?"

"And smell like a daffodil? I wouldn't use them."

"Yeah, well fancy soaps are a better gift than a freakin' rug."

"It's a mat you can wipe your feet on when you come inside!" Mike argued. "And a RUG is a better gift than a collection of your favorite book series- which, by the way, is stupid."

"You shut up about that right now- and a collection of books is a whole lot better than a bowl of fake fruit."

"Oh, come on, the fake fruit is classic."

"Whatever," Marionette rolled her eyes as she pulled into the neighborhood. "Hey, shut up and stop being stupid, we need to make a good impression on this dude." She navigated at a slow speed down the street until she reached their destination and pulled into the young man's driveway.

Together, they climbed out of the car with their gift and approached their neighbor's front door. Marionette knocked three times.

There was a pause. The front door opened and the young man appeared, his strawberry-blonde hair combed to shield one of his pink-violet eyes. He jumped at the sight of Marionette, who smiled at him.

"Good afternoon!" She said.

He stared at her with widened eyes and when he spoke his voice was soft. "I heard about you before I moved here, but I didn't realize I'd live so close to you." He looked at Mike. "I heard about your story."

Mike rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Yeah, it's a queer one, isn't it?"

"Yes..." The man nodded. His pink eyes trailed downwards for a moment, fixing on the ground. He then looked up at them again. "Can I help you two?"

"We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." Marionette said. She threw out her hand. "I'm Marionette Fitzgerald, and this is my roommate Mike Schmidt-we live across the street."

The man hesitantly shook her hand. "I'm Jack Ferdinand." He said, looking at her. "I didn't expect you to have a last name."

"Yeah, I figured I'd need one if I was going to be a member of society, and Mike didn't want me with his last name- he said it'd be weird, so I just went with another friend of mine's."

"You never told me you made your last name Fitzgerald." Mike muttered at her.

"I don't tell you everything." She hissed back.

"Fitzgerald…That sounds awfully familiar." Mike frowned.

Jack blinked at them and Marionette grabbed the clock from Mike's arms and held it out to him. "We got you a housewarming present!"

He took it from her hands and looked at it. The corners of his lips smiled a little. "Thank you. I can put it in the kitchen." He looked up at them. "Would you like to come in?"

"Sure!" Marionette said cheerily.

Jack stepped out of the way so that they could enter his house. It was cozy looking with soft carpets and little bird decorations that reminded Mike of something straight out of Pinterest. The walls were painted pale colors and the couch had throw pillows with inspirational or meaningful quotes about life sewn into them. The smell of vanilla was ever present in the house.

"You live alone?" Mike asked, taking in the sight of the house.

Jack walked to the kitchen and looked around. The kitchen was similar to the rest of the house and had a stencil on the wall above the oven that said 'This kitchen is seasoned with love'. The spoons and pots and pans were in cute and neat nooks and turnabouts and everything was in a nice order. "Yes." Jack said, choosing to hang the clock by the stainless steel refrigerator.

Marionette walked across the kitchen to the bar where a bowl of butter was seated nicely on the gray marble countertop. "Why do you have so much butter?" She asked, looking at it. "Russian garli- what kind of butter is this?"

"It's a gift I got from my last job." Jack said. "They're supposed to be exotic."

Marionette laughed. "That's a weird gift- who gives exotic butter as a gift?"

Jack looked a little embarrassed. "…I like them." He clasped his fingers together in a dainty way in front of him, looking at them.

Mike looked at the décor. "Nice little cozy feeling you've got going on in here." He said. "Where'd you come from?"

"I came from a place in Utah." Jack said quietly. "It was alright…" He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was getting a headache. When he looked up again, he smiled broadly. "It was wonderful…But it wasn't for me. I'd lived there my whole life…I felt a little trapped, you know?"

Marionette nodded, still looking at the butter bowl. "I know what that's like."

"I figured I should see a little more of the world, and you can't go wrong with North Carolina, can you? You've got the beach and the mountains all in one state."

Mike gave a chuckle. "Don't get your hopes soaring there. The mountains aren't exactly the Rockies, and the beaches aren't exactly those white-sand Florida beaches."

"Well I think it's lovely here." Jack smiled.

Mike nodded, though he couldn't help getting a queer air from the young man. Lovely isn't exactly the term I'd use. He mentally shook his head, but the uncertainty about the man stayed. He looked at Jack up and down.

"You've got some pink eyes, there." He said.
"Pink eye?" Marionette paused. "You might want to see a doctor about that."

"Oh, no, I don't have pink eye, I have pink eyes." Jack tilted his head ever so slightly. "Although, I think they're a little purple at times."

"Are they contacts?" Mike asked.

"No, they're my natural color." Jack smiled.

"Uh huh," Mike looked around the kitchen again.

"Would you like some tea?" Jack asked. "I have a pretty colorful assortment."

Before Marionette could answer, Mike said, "No, I'm sorry, we have to get back to doing yard work."

"Oh, yeah," Marionette nodded, though she was frowning at Mike.

"Oh, sorry to see you go so soon. Maybe next time then?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Mike said, though he wasn't really listening to him. Jack showed them to the door and they left his house. As soon as the door had shut, Marionette turned to Mike with a slight frown.

"What was that about?" She asked him.

"That dude is weird." Mike muttered, heading back to the car. "Really weird- pink natural eyes? I don't think so."

"Okay, so maybe he was fibbing about having pretty eyes, but that's not a big deal is it?" Marionette asked him as they climbed into their car.

"I get bad vibes from that guy, he seems…off." Mike frowned as Marionette started the car.

"Maybe he's just got a little sugar in his tank." Marionette shrugged.

Mike considered that, thinking of Jack's quietness and the ever-present smell of vanilla in his house. "Maybe…" He rubbed his chin.


Marionette sat at the front desk of the town library, reading a rather thick book with the title 'Fight'. It was the third book in the 'Rising Knight' series. There had been two books so before it: Serve and Crumble. Next fall would be the release of the final book-Rise- and Marionette was more than excited to read it. The series was about the rise of a knight since their first day in training in their country's army- about their struggle to be the best and their undying devotion to the prince of the country.

She leaned her nose down closer to the pages of the book as its words went for a spin. It had just gotten to the good part…

"Excuse me," A soft voice brought Marionette out of the world of her book.

She looked up over the desk and saw Jack, her neighbor from across the street, standing in front of her. She had to blink for a minute as she looked at him- the big windows were right behind him and she hadn't realized how sunny it was outside when she'd been buried in her story.

"Hey, Jack," She said with a smile, closing her book. "What brings you here?"

"A story…" He rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

Marionette nodded. "Are you looking for it by title?" She reached for the keyboard on the little library computer.

"Um…n-not exactly, I want to find a book to read, but I don't exactly know which one to pick up." He explained.

"Oh, I can help you." Marionette sat up. "What kind of book are you looking for?"

"Mmm…Something along the lines of romance." Jack tapped his chin. His pink eyes shifted behind the lenses of his thick-framed glasses.

"Okay…Follow me." Marionette stepped from behind the desk and led him around the maze of the library to an aisle of books with thick covers and flirtatious titles. "Here's the romance section." She climbed a ladder leaning against a shelf. "So are you looking for angst, drama, supernatural…?"

"Mmm…supernatural." Jack said after a moment of consideration.

Marionette pushed off and slid along the shelf, holding onto the ladder and skimming the spines of novels until she found what she was looking for. "There's a lot- people love the supernatural romance."

"Do you have anything on vampires?" Jack asked, his pink eyes glistening a tad.

She turned and smirked at him. "Vampires? I didn't know guys were into that sort of thing." She turned back to the shelf. "I feel like you watch the Vampire Diaries."

He shuffled his feet and blushed. "Maybe…"

"We've got plenty on vampires…oh!" She stopped and pulled out a book with a very thick spine. It had a picture of a moon half obscured by shadows and bright purple eyes beneath it. The title read 'Half Moon'. "This one is my FAVORITE!"

"Half Moon?" Jack echoed. His eyebrows frowned a bit. "Is it…Like Twilight? I've already read that series."

"Oh, no. I know it sounds like it is." Marionette stepped down from the ladder with the book in her hand. "It's actually not about vampires. It's about these monsters that are REALLY big and dangerous and- oh, I'm going to spoil it. But it's really good I promise." She handed it to him.

Jack looked the cover over, flipped it and looked at the back of the book, and very briefly leafed through the pages.

"But," Marionette said. "If you'd rather read one with vampires- I can pull one down for you."

"No," Jack smiled at her. "I'll take this one."

"Alright, I'll check it out for you." Marionette waved her hand and led him back to the front desk. She reached her hand out to take his library card and he handed it over. "So how're you doing in town?" She asked him as she checked out his book.

"Pretty well. The people are nice." Jack said. "I'm…not sure where I should get a job, though."

"Well," Marionette handed him his book and card. "It depends on your interests and skill set…and education. You go to college?"

"Yeah, I'm actually-" He paused and looked away for a moment. When he looked up again, he smiled. "I…actually like singing. And dancing- kind of in the ballet style, you know?"

Marionette paused and looked Jack up and down. He was wearing gray skinny jeans, black vans, a dark jacket, and a gray scarf.

He realized she was staring and looked hurt. "…It's weird?" He went red in the face.

"Huh?" Marionette was jerked from her silence. "No- that's not what I meant- it's normal for guys to like ballet- I mean, I love the Nutcracker- it's just…you really didn't seem like the type to like ballet- I mean…uh…I…I feel like you'd be more into pop or something more…hipster?"

Jack gave her a shy smile. "I like pop music…I just…kind of feel self conscious when it comes to dancing to it, you know?"

She nodded, but couldn't relate. As she was talented at singing, she often loved to listen to and sing along with whatever came on the radio. But, after her coma, she was still adjusting to the pop hits of today, and much preferred selections from the 70's and 80's. She herself was never necessarily fond of dancing…and not in front of people, either.

"Would you like to come to my house?" His offer jerked her out of her thoughts. "We could have tea, if you like…Or are you busy?"

Marionette nodded. "Yeah, I get off at, like…" She squinted, thinking. "I dunno…I should probably be home around 2:15. If you come by then, Mike will probably be home, too."

"Okay, that sounds wonderful!" He turned with his book to leave.

As Marionette watched him walk out the door, she thought about what Mike had said to her. She gave her head a little shake. He wasn't weird- at least, not in a dangerous or creepy way. In fact, the young man seemed awfully timid. Perhaps he was only trying to adjust to his new town.


Mike, after a long day at the college, threw his back on the couch and fell into his recliner. After a moment, he went into his room and started putting together his bassoon. He'd been given a list of solos to play and it all made a pretty thick stack of paper. Even so, playing the instrument would do well to relieve some stress.

He parted his lips to play on the double-reed instrument and took a breath. Before he could make a sound, however, there was a knocking at the door. Spike howled in the living room. Mike grumbled and set down his bassoon. It was probably Tulia coming to yell at him. She'd probably spotted her toy on his roof and was pitching a fit.

"Coming! I'm coming!" He called, walking down the hallway and through his living room to the front door. He was very surprised when he opened the door and saw Jack standing there. "Oh…uh, hey, Jack."

Jack looked as equally-but pleasantly- surprised to see him. "H-hello…" he stammered quietly. "Is…Marionette there? S-she invited me over."

"At this time?" Mike looked at the clock. It was 2:16. "That's weird. She gets off at like 2:45…Maybe she meant 3:15."

"Oh…" Jack awkwardly shuffled his feet and looked at the ground. "W-well…uh…"

Mike forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Would you like to come in?" He offered dryly.

"Yes, please." Jack smiled behind his pink eyes, looking almost relieved.

Mike stepped to the side as Jack walked in and closed the door behind them. Jack looked around at his house, observing it. He jumped in a frightened way as Spike ran up to him, eagerly wagging his stump of a tail.

"He won't bite," Mike said. "He's a softie."

"…Okay." Jack hesitated before touching Spike's head, as if he'd never pet a dog before. He smiled and stroked the Doberman's back all the way down to his stubby tail. "He's so soft!"

"Yeah, he loves attention." Mike rolled his eyes at his pet. "You want something to drink?"

"Do you have tea?" Jack asked, sitting down on the floor and allowing Spike to lick his face.

Mike shook his head, heading into the kitchen. "Nah. We've got Coca-Cola."

"That's fine." Jack said. His eyes got sight of Mike's DVD collection in his entertainment center. "Chanteys?" He asked.

Mike had forgotten that Marionette had gotten him seasons one and two of Chanteys on DVD for his birthday. "Yeah." He said testily. "You watch it?"

"No, what is it?" Jack asked.

"Graphic." Mike said bluntly with a chuckle.

"Graphic how?" Jack asked. "Violently or…" He trailed off as Mike looked at him.

"Just…graphic." Mike blinked. "You can watch it if you want." He looked at his watch. "I can call Marionette just to see what time she'll be getting off."

"You want to watch it with me?"

Mike hesitated and stared at Jack. There was something about the way he was looking at Mike that set him off. Something about his pretty pink eyes just…wasn't right. "I have to practice my bassoon." He said, even though he knew it'd be very rude to go off in his room and leave his guest alone in his living room.

"You play an instrument?" Jack's eyes widened and glistened with interest. "You're so talented!"

Mike shook his head and gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, you say that now, but you haven't heard me play. Go talk to Marionette- she's the talent. She can sing and play the violin like a pro."

"I'm sure you're just as talented as she is." He smiled with genuine kindness.

Mike tensed. It was something about Jack's sweetness and his open curiosity that made him uneasy about the young man. "Well, let me go get that Coke for you." He disappeared into the kitchen and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He quickly typed a message to Marionette and sent it. As he grabbed a cold Coke out of the refrigerator, he got her response: "Went to the warehouse to visit Jeremy real quick."

Mike rolled his eyes and stifled a groan, but he knew he couldn't be too angry. Ever since Vincent ran the evil ghost out of the warehouse, he'd been helping Jeremy recover from his torture there. Marionette had been more than eager to help. She visited him often, and Jeremy was coming along very well. Even though he still seemed timid, Marionette said that was how he always was.

It's fine. Mike told himself. She won't be gone long or anything.

How wrong he was.

After a brief conversation with Jack, Mike had gone to put up his bassoon-he wouldn't practice it now. He'd returned to the living room to find Jack curiously opening Marionette's violin case. He begged Mike to teach him the basics, and Mike had helped. Even so, he felt awfully uncomfortable with the way Jack leaned into him while Mike set the placement of his hands on the instrument.

He also struggled to feel comfortable with Jack's voice; quiet and sugary sweet, like he was the most innocent thing in the world. It wasn't flamboyant or lispy, and it wasn't forced-it was actually very natural, and it confused Mike as to why he hated it so much. He almost felt bad for the way he mentally picked on the young man.

Jack became more and more curious to watch Chanteys and, surprisingly, found it funny…for the first few episodes. Then, he started to realize what Mike had meant by 'graphic' and only watched through fingers while he covered his eyes. Once, a scene startled him so much that he jumped with a yelp and clung to Mike, who pushed him away very uncomfortably.

Around episode six, Mike looked at the clock. It was 7:13. He ran a hand through his short hair. "Looks like Marionette got sidetracked." He muttered.

Jack moved his hands from his face and looked from the clock to the window. The sun had mostly set and all that was left were red and orange shadows creeping through the glass. "It looks like I did too. I…I'm sorry to have spent most of your time waiting here." He said, standing and rubbing the back of his neck. "I should probably be going…" He seemed hesitant to leave.

"I'll tell Marionette you came by." Mike stood and went to the door to see Jack out of his house. I already did, but she ignored me. He thought wryly.

On the front porch, Jack pulled his coat tighter around him. For a moment, his pink eyes took on a glassy stare, gazing out at the crimson sun setting behind rows of neighborhood houses. His face seemed to pale.

"Well, see you around, I guess." Mike shrugged.

Jack didn't answer him. His pink eyes were glazed over with something that Mike couldn't read.

"…Jack?"

"I need to talk to you." Jack whispered suddenly. He drew closer to Mike, his eyes staring at him seriously. "I…I really need to talk to you."

"Alright." Mike shrugged, staring at him without knowing how to react. "So…talk."

"I can't…" Jack looked down. "N-not…here. Not now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little slip of paper. He pressed it in the palm of Mike's hand.

"Is this your phone number?" Mike asked bluntly.

"Y-yes…will you call me, please?" Jack asked. "I-it's very important."

Mike shifted. "Look, pal-"

Jack suddenly gripped Mike's shirt in his hands, his eyes flashed with desperation. "It's very important, please, you have to he-" He stopped suddenly as if someone had slapped him in the face. His head stared blankly and tilted down, hiding his eyes. His hands shook ever so slightly.

Mike only stared at him, standing tensely and even glancing around to see if any of the other neighbors were watching. Jack didn't let go of him. After a moment Mike cleared his throat. "Please let go of me."

Jack let go of him suddenly. "My, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." He said with a little smile as if he hadn't just made a scene. "Have a good night, neighbor. I'll see you around." He nodded and walked away, back to his house.

Mike stared at him, watching him until he vanished through his door. Confused, he opened the slip of paper and looked at the number written on it. It was a cell phone number. He frowned. "I knew there was something weird about that freakin' guy." He muttered.

"Woooooow," A voice startled him from his thoughts and he saw the figure of Marionette skating on her roller blades up to the house. "Mike, good grief, I leave you alone for just a little bit of time and you've got yourself a boyfriend."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm not like that." He glared at her. "By the way, thanks for leaving me here with him alone for a few hours. I thought you said it'd be a quick visit to the warehouse?"

"Yeaaaahhh…" Marionette shrugged. "I lied." She caught sight of the paper in his hands and snatched it. "What's this?" She opened it and read it. Her white-pupil eyes flew wide open and her mouth gaped. She threw back her head and laughed. "I was just kidding!" She cried. "He's actually hitting on you dude!"

Mike shook his head and couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't…" He glanced over to Jack's house and shook his head. "He's just…weird."

This was meant to be a one-shot, but it turned out longer than I expected, so I'll have to break it down into two/ three parts (chapters). Also, yes, this short is based off of the ending events of To Tomorrow.