The blue eyes stared up at the abandoned manor. Everyone found it scary, but he also couldn't help but marvel at the English Gothic architecture. The stories of the ghost of a man who had died with no soul to mourn him haunting the place did not scare him. Francis Bonnefoy was the son of the richest man in town, who had grown up in luxury, and had freedom to do as he pleased.
Anyway, he never had believed in ghosts even as a child, his only thought about this rumour being that people would believe anything in this place. He stepped forward, and shivered a little, telling himself that it was just the cold that made him react as such. After all, it was the late autumn, and cold winter breezes had been around for the last week now.
He looked up from his feet and saw another young man standing a few feet away from him.
"Oh, so you came to explore to?" he asked pleasantly. The other man nodded stiffly.
Wow, so that's what they mean by the silent type.
He walked over to the man, taking careful note of his features – ruffled blond hair, green eyes and damn those were thick eyebrows – before holding his hand out in greeting. A grin crept onto the other man's face before he walked right up to Francis, took his hand and disappeared suddenly.
Francis gasped in shock, before turning on his heel. He ran along the road with flaming cheeks, truly believing in ghosts, reliving the sensation of lips brushing the back of hands while also remembering the sparkle of those emerald green eyes.