Imprint by Annmarie McQueen Page B

because by the end of the evening the problem of getting his body back was still as looming and menacing as ever.
    “We’re home pretty late, so actually get some sleep tonight Sean,” Hayden advised while they sat in the car, in the driveway, in the dark . “I didn’t want to say so earlier, but you look like shit.”
    “You always look like shit,” Drew countered. “And it’s kinda hypocritical, telling me to sleep.”
    Hayden shrugged. “I’m not the one who a lmost died three weeks ago .”
    “So?”
    “You’re being stubborn again,” the elder sighed. “And I…I guess I’m worried, okay?” He paused for a moment, as if hesitant about continuing. “You know, there’s something different about you.” Sean noticed Drew’s shoulders tense.
    “What’s different?” he asked, obviously feigning nonchalance.
    “I’m not sure, but you seem…happier than before.” Everyone seemed to be saying that lately, Sean grouched to himself. Had he really been that miserable?
    “Isn’t that a good thing?” Drew asked.
    “Yeah,” Hayden sighed, but his voice was wary. “It’s just surprising, that’s all.”
    “Oh.”
    “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”
    Drew let out a derisive laugh. “Please don’t start with all of that ‘you can always talk to me, I’ ll always be there for you’ crap . You know I hate it. ”
    “I won’t,” Hayden muttered. “It makes me uncomfortable as well. What you said before, about the dreams… I just need to know that if something was wrong, you’d tell me. I need to know that you trust me.” Sean wasn’t sure whether to be touched or surprised; this was probably the most emotional he’d ever seen his brother.
    Drew was quiet for a while. “Okay,” he said at last. “ I trust you with my life, so don’t worry about me. Is that good enough?”
    “Yeah,” Hayden smiled in relief . “That’s just fine.” Sean wanted to laugh. H e was so tempted to burst out into hysterical, maniacal laughter, because it was all so ironic. Hayden didn’ t understand the truth behind those words, the inside joke. He did though, he understood perfectl y. How could you trust someone with your life when you were already dead?
    “You’re sick,” Sean said, later on, when he was alone with Drew again in his room. “Saying something like that, just to spite me.”
    “I didn’t say it to spite you,” Drew shrugged. “I just have a sense of humour.”
    “ You are twisted .”
    “So are most people, aren’t they? You can hardly blame me. Dying is pretty traumatic.”
    Sean sighed in defeat. “Why did you ask a bout my father today ?”
    “I was trying to do you a favour,” Drew admitted. “I f igure it must be pretty hard, not even being able to remember the man.”
    “I never thought you were capable of being so sensitive,” Sean mocked , although he was inwardly surprised.
    “Yeah, well, I have my moments.”
    “Why do you even care?”
    “I never wanted to purposely hurt you by doing this, you know. I just thought I’d try and make it a bit easier.”
    “That still doesn’t m ake you any less of a prick,” Sean deadpanned.
    A smile tugged at the edges of Drew’s lips. “Thank god,” he said. “I thought you were going to thank me then.”
    “Never going to happen,” Sean assured him. “Not in my lifetime, anyway.”
    “Don’t you mean death-time?”
    “You really need to stop with the death puns.”
    Drew just laughed, and it didn’t sound hollow. It sounded real. “Whatever, jerk, I’m going to go shower,” he said.
    As the door shut and the water start ed, Sean smiled to himself . It was stupid, really, he had nothing to smile about. Except that today had been good because he’d learnt something, no matter how insignificant, that made him feel less empty: he’d had a father once who liked the sea.
     
     
     
    At that moment, Sean’s head felt like one, large beehive. There really wasn’t many better ways of desc ribing