Shiver.

Ever since the incident, Ray had been volatile. The fans noticed before his coworkers; a sudden breakup, silence while working, ambition, subtle voice cracks, angry response, exhaustion, lack of enthusiasm.

In truth, he was happy. He really was. But he was also afraid, afraid of a lot, and afraid for reasons nobody would quite understand.

He could only push that fear aside for so long before the mumblings started: "Is Ray okay? Did something happen? Is this someone's fault?"

A sigh.

He wanted to tell everyone what was going on, what was amiss, but he knew what would happen. There was a reason predicaments like his were unheard of: those they affect remain silent or are silenced.

Stretch.

He didn't often remember his dreams. They were usually nonsensical anyway, ranging from flying, free, in an endless universe, to having a friend force-feed him sand until he woke up gasping. When he rose, he knew it was all imagination, and the memories faded soon after.

Then the ghost came.

It had his face, his hands, his hair. It had his dialect, mannerisms. It was him.

The only thing different were the eyes. When it turned to face Ray, he could see them clearly: white, distraught, hollow.

He woke up immediately, frozen in place. Sweat made his skin feel sticky and unclean, but despite his efforts, he could not overcome the paralysis grasping his body to find a more comfortable position to sleep in. The image of his ghost's eyes still burned in his mind.

A wave of fear crawled up his spine, as the darkness of his room seemed to close in. The blurred shadows shifted, and out of the corner of his eye Ray saw a figure take shape.

His head felt as if it was filling with cotton, his lungs with electricity, his body with void. A bolt of sensation pulled through his entire being, his body arching free of it's paralysis in an ungodly manner, as if possessed.

His mind went from cottony to cloudy as his consciousness faded. He could not feel his body moving, could not feel his teeth clicking, could not hear the whispers emanating from his throat. It was not his body, not his mind attached to it. His essence drifted, dancing along the fine line of sleep and death, thinking:

"That was the weirdest wet dream I've had since junior high."

Ray had woken up that morning very sick. He trembled with fever; his every bone ached. As wakefulness seeped into his being, memories of feeling rushed into his head. The image of the ghost had not left his mind, as if it had not been a dream at all.

Glancing around, standing up.

Though his newfound skills were surreal at the very least, Ray was mindful enough to make use of them.

He'd set his alarm for 3 am on Saturdays, in order to get up before danger prowled back into it's cave of nighttime, untouchable and unnoticed by creatures of the day. Donning the mask and oversized hoodie, he would leave his small apartment and wander downtown, weave through the seemingly empty streets. Seemingly. He had learned to listen, learned to double-check each alleyway and learned to hope he was unnoticed by the eyes peering from the shadows, scanning for weaker prey.

Aha.

"What were you saying about your boyfriend?"

"Please stop-"

"I'll beat your pretty little face, bitch."

Ray stepped into the alley quietly, assessing the situation. Big dude, tiny girl. Anyone could say the obvious situation, but that didn't make it the correct one. The lad proceeded forward.

"Hey," He murmured, putting his hand on the big guy's shoulder. Ray let his thoughts filter away as he studied his subject through psychometry before the bigger man could blink.

Trevor H. Irven. Thirty-one. Drug dealer. Gun on person. Will shoot to kill. Will beat tiny girl to death. Dangerous.

"What the fuck you you want, kid?" The large man spun around, his fists balled.

"About my Mary J," Ray grinned, moving at lightning speed. Two black roses embedded their stems into the big guy's shoulders, thrown by none other than the lad himself. Letting out a cry of anger and pain, the large man swung his arms wildly. A sudden blast of electricity sprung from the black roses, taking the beast of a man down to the cement.

The small woman stood against the wall, her eyes wide. "You look more shocked than the electrocuted dude on the ground," Ray stated simply. She jumped, looking nervously back and forth between the two men before her. "Care to explain why he was about to pummel you to the floor, lady?"

She cleared her throat. "I, uh, he asked me out to uh, to dinner, and then he started to get all aggro, so uh, I made up something about having a boyfriend, and he pulled me out here and started yelling, Jesus Christ thank you for saving me, oh my god..." The lady shook her head, as if trying to forget what had happened.

Ray's brow furrowed beneath his hood. "Mind if I check some validity?" He asked, holding out his hand.

"...What? How? What?"

Ray rolled his eyes. "Nobody knows what a hi-five is anymore? Jesus Christ. Welcome to the 21st century, everyone, I'll be your damn guide."

The woman hi-fived Ray tentatively (or awkwardly, it's hard to tell the difference). Her story checked out.

"Alright then," Ray nodded, "Nice working with you, Miss Croft. You should call the police, tell them T.M. sent you."

"T.M.? What does that stand for?"

"It, uh, doesn't matter. Police'll know who it is. 911, come on, big daddy here isn't going to be asleep forever."

The woman pulled out her phone and quickly dialed the three digit number. When she turned around, the young man was gone, a single red rose laying elegantly where he last stood.

"Fucking got 'em," Ray had snickered to himself, jumping silently across rooftops, the moon outside dark.

Exit the building.

"X-Ray! My boi!" Gavin caught Ray in the parking lot, waving. "Michael and I were gonna go swimmies tomorrow, but a lot more people jumped on our cheeky little bandwagon. You should come along too! Swimmybevs!"

"Sounds fun. Who's gonna be there?"

A dragged out "eeeevvveeerrryyyooonnneeee."

Ray laughed. "I'll bring the weed."

"Sounds top! You'll need a ride?"

"Probably."

"Ray's not allowed in my fuckin' car," Geoff rolled up beside the two lads walking across the lot, grinning. "Too many lads in a single vehicle is not permitted. There's a reason why I had just one kid."

"Boooo!" The two lanky boys called, "X-ray and Vav forever!"

"But no really," Geoff said, "My back seats are already taken. Jack's car is in the shop, so he and Caiti are riding with me."

"Aw, fuck."

"Sorry mate," Gavin shrugged. Ray assured him it was fine.

"I'll grab a ride with whoever. It's all good." Exchanging farewells, Ray turned out of the parking area and onto the sidewalk.

Tomorrow was Friday.

"Fuck!" He murmured through his teeth. He needed to have enough energy to wake up at three the following morning and make sure the city roads were as safe as he could get them. That was no easy feat on its own; most of Ray's Saturdays were met with fatigue, his nighttime escapades taking their toll on his body. Having a Friday night party was not the best plan of attack.

Ray continued down the road to his apartment. Things like this were always happening. He'd cop out of a party, or a get-together, or even a workday, simply because he didn't feel sociable. But was it such a simple thing? Being different on a level so much more profound than thought itself had its repercussions, and Ray had no time to grow accustomed to them.

His guilt got the better of him. He had already blown off Tina a few weeks ago, he couldn't keep running away from his friends, from people who cared for him.

Ray dragged his feet on the pavement. He was sure it'd be fine.