Coral Reef's tourist season was only just begun. Beauty beyond measure, the little island was south of America and not considered a part of the States. A somewhat new setting, the island had only begun development in the late 60s, and it didn't look to have changed much. Older, sturdy houses lined two-lane roads and few vehicles existed on the island. The natives preferred to walk, bike, or use small motorized scooters if they needed to get to a place quickly. Dirt footpaths spider-webbed a majority of the developed island, and some spread into the undeveloped, natural area. Tour guides led those unfamiliar with the land and they would lead little groups to small camping grounds and they would stay there for several days, admiring the beauty that probably rivaled Jamaica or Hawaii.

And of course, the namesake of the island, the extensive glass coral reef, was always busy. If not with tourists in glass-bottom boats or diving gear, then with natives solo-diving for trinkets or little pieces of broken coral or small sea life to put in their homes or shops. But now, it was as if the entire island were sleeping. The sun was just barely beginning to look over the water, though, so it was still so very early. Nick Elwen woke without the help of an alarm clock, bringing up a hand to shield his eyes from the weak yellow-orange shards of light that shone in through the slats in his closed window shutters. His bedroom window was facing the east, and overlooking a clear shot of the ocean for the most part. His was an open-air native build, old but well-preserved, on a bit of a hill. A cobblestone path led through a darkly shaded front yard full of soft grass, a little sand in the back yard that led to the beach nearby. A sandy walkway. The covered porch held a couple rocking chairs, a wooden swing, a basket of faux gold coin blanks one could imprint their names on inside, or whatever else they might want it to say.

He got up quickly, feeling wide awake since he had awakened naturally, and pulled open the windows. His home---and shop, below on the ground floor---had no glass, or even screens in the windows. The more bothersome insects were kept at bay by scentless bug repellents that were developed on the island and sold to tourists, as their effects were very useful, and one lasted indefinitely. His home and work were located between the woody area and sandy area of the beach and undeveloped part of the island, so it was shaded, but had such a beautiful view at the same time, from every position. And though it was small---as many of the businesses here---it was very popular. All of Nick's items were hand-made, and both natives and tourists loved his preserved flowers.

Showering off the night's settlement of dirt, Nick got dressed in pale clothes that would combat the day's heavy sunlight. His naturally blonde hair and tanned skin did well to help keep him cool, and his eyes, though different in tone, were dark enough to handle the glare. Running his hands through his hair, it naturally parted down the middle and laid against his head lightly. Before going downstairs he left his bedroom, turning left and heading down the hall. To his right was a staircase, part of the way down the hall that led to the store room where he kept his bulk items in crates, barrels, and boxes. An archway to the left, though, led into an airy living room and kitchen, and a dining area sat behind that. He stepped into the kitchen and paused to regard himself in a mirror by the archway that led into a small eating area, a dining room, really. Nick didn't look like a hardy one, a tough one. He was somewhat thin, though tall, and had long, slender fingers and a sharp face, complete with large eyes and hair that often had others telling him how jealous they were that he had it. He looked away from the reflection, grabbing a couple packs of Pop-Tarts and a bottle of water and heading downstairs. His breakfasts could have been more fulfilling, but this morning he wanted to finish his flower work.

Before he got started on that, though, he weaved through the shelves on the main floor and opened the double doors that led outside, turning the sign in the window so it read 'OPEN'.

The breeze seemed to shift around the colorfully clothed locals who began to wander towards Nick's store. It hovered persistently around one person, a young man sauntering forward with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. The wind was no such thing. Its tugging and pushing at the muscular man were in truth the hands of a ghost, nothing more then an immaterial spirit. He, for it was a man, wore a frustrated expression that no one could see.

There was a potential love for this man, one he felt so compelled to make happen that it wouldn't let him rest for one moment. How was he supposed to help someone find love when he had been cursed for ruining a person's chance at it in life? He couldn't even remember his own name!

He floated around, searching for the one who completed the pair. It was so hard to tell. So hard to find the other person. There were just too many people around, all looking at the flowers frozen in time. He'd seen them floating around the island before, but had never been pulled into the shop. A harsh tug had him veering towards a blonde man, tanned, with dark grey eyes. If he hadn't been a ghost ...

He sighed wistfully as he sent out tendrils of his energy to guide his other charge forward, towards this man. It would have been so wonderful to be able to introduce himself, but that was impossible. Having no name made that difficult.

Nick sighed a little as he worked. Today he worked on a beautiful blue flower that looked like a Stargazer lily, skewering the thick stem on a needle-thin wire attached to a glass base so he could position it the right way, but without snapping the stem's brilliant green color. Taking it off its base, Nick used thread-thin clear wiring to position the petals, the stamen, the small fronds within the flower, spreading them in a fanning manner. He smiled as people came in, and one of which Nick's gaze lingered on. A young man about his age, maybe a few months older. Charles---Charlie, by anyone that asked. He had wavy hair that looked like he spent an hour on it every day, but Nick was sure that was natural. And his sparkling blue eyes gave the impression that someone had brought in a piece of the ocean at sunset. But Nick was always so speechless when he came around, he could only ever fumble around with words and slink away to take care of something else. A true high school crush he never really got over.

Just a few natives, and one early-rising tourist, a lovely young lady of brown hair. She seemed starstruck with everything she laid eyes on. Nick smiled, relishing the slight breeze that came in with them. He sold so much, and just about everything was his creation. Small clear bags with sweets, small straws of honey flavored with berries, pieces of the reef or small seahorses or starfish, and a tank full of the tropical fish one could find only off the shore of this island. A full wall was dedicated to his flower creations, either those single flowers one could buy for their loves, crystaline in their preservation gel, or those encased in the same gel and put into various glass shapes and encasings. And an imprinting device one could use to put pictures or wordings into their little faux gold blanks.

Behind his counter, Nick mixed the gel that would encase this particular flower, and tried not to stare too hard at Charlie. Sometimes his longtime crush would compliment his eyes, one blue and one green, mentioning how rare it was---but also how interesting. And Nick could never really look at him to give him a proper thanks. But who was that nearby? He was sure he saw someone, but the shelves were in the way.

The ghost flitted about. He walked right behind the counter and nudged the flower Nick was working on. It moved a bit, but he wanted to make it fall. A frown crossed his misty features. The ghost waved a hand across the flower and finally it tipped from the edge of the counter.

Charlie snatched it from the air quickly and placed it upon the wooden surface with a grin. "Strong wind today." He glanced back the people beginning to fill the store. "Looks like you'll be busy today, not hard to see why with so many flowers in the shop." He tilted his head, a spark in his brown eyes and a flirtatious grin.

The ghost perked up at that. It looked like things were going well, though he couldn't help but try to frown with his misty features when he saw the man pocketing the flower.. Or rather putting it in his leather bag.

He gasped when the flower started falling, and he didn't stand in time to catch it. Though someone had been there to catch it, and when Nick recognized him---immediate as it was---he suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. He nodded at the man's words. Really, a strong wind, to knock a glass base off the counter. He straightened up, finding only the glass. Had Charlie taken the flower...? Perhaps. But there were plenty others, plenty other flowers just as beautiful, perhaps more, just outside and anywhere else. And it might have been damaged, anyway. He shook it away, opening another drawer where other preserved flowers sat. this one he pulled out was a startling red, and had many petals. Then he brought out a white box.

"I suppose..." He said, but offered a smile. Charlie did make him nervous, worried about everything he might say. "Flowers are one of my... favorite things to work on." He faltered under Charlie's gaze and stared at the several layers of petals instead. Why should he still feel so awkward around him? Like a teenager again, a quiet kid that didn't really talk to anyone, didn't really participate in clubs or sports and tried to keep to himself as much as possible. He could talk to anyone easily, until it came to Charlie and he felt as if he were lying exposed for all to see.

Nick opened the case and started putting together another setting. This would resemble a slight, loose coil. As if the flower were drifting, perhaps. "It's been a while." He commented, trying to lighten his tone a bit. True he hadn't see the man in about a week, and that was a bit rare for this little island community, even with its high tourist rate. He shivered a bit in a sudden breeze that seemed a little cooler than normally.

"Only a week." The young man grinned. "Well see you later." He left without an explanation, and the door slammed closed as he left. In a way, the ghost was relieved to see Charlie's back. More then that, he was actually happy to be where he was. He drifted to the flowers upon the wall and began to let his ethereal fingers play over the soft petals. For some reason, he felt ... better, with such things around.

Impulsively, he tried to lift one but only managed to make the delicate petals tremble. He tried once more, and was glad to see the flower shift, the base sliding slightly across the shelf. And he was beginning to remember his name. Did it start with a w? This time he grasped the delicate flower in his hands, cradling it in the air without noticing that he was far more solid then before.

Nick waved a little dreamily as Charlie turned to leave. He hated being this way around someone he'd adored since the start of high school, but really, there wasn't much else he could do. Nick grew tongue-tied around Charlie, nervous, his heat fluttered and raced and his thoughts jumbled and leapt about. Just like he felt in school. And to think, he and Charlie shared several classes together. Sometimes they were partenered up by their teacher for projects. It only helped Nick feel a little more for the man every time, and when he saw Charlie now, Nick couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. Who he had at his feet, in his hand, wrapped around his finger. Nick would like to be the one, really.

He shivered again. Another breeze. What was it? He was sure he hadn't turned a fan on. Going around the counter, Nick nodded and said hello to the several others browsing small sweets he'd set up in the corner, and headed toward the walls at the far right. These walls had either preserved flowers in their respective small vases, or flowers trapped in hardened gel that mimicked solid glass.

The more he held the flower between his palms, the more alive he felt. Such an irony, considering that William was dead as a doornail. He lifted his head, blue eyes wide as he realized he had just remembered his name, as he hadn't in so long. The flower, so blue and delicately curled encased in hard gel ... Taking a deep breath, the ghost frowned and tried again to pick up the curling bloom.

A radiant smile twisted up his lips when he felt it, saw it in his hands. It didn't matter to Will that to others it would seem like the flower floated in midair. This little thing, it was something he could keep and treasure, preserved as it was. The bloom would last forever, for a long time, just like he would if he didn't accomplish his goal, break the curse.

He stepped around the corner and into the next isle. The shop wasn't huge, of course, but one could consider it a good size. He found someone there, staring at one of his blue flowers. It resesmbled a rose, and those were so difficult to encase fully. The individual petals would have to be rigid and held in place, and he would have to use a lot of very small pieces of metal setting. He smiled. People did love these things. They used them as centerpieces, commissioned several at a time that were identical, often bought the flat ones to hang on their walls. They made good window settngs, if they were thin enough, as Nick came to discover.

The way the young man just... smiled. It was odd to see. Rare to see. Like he hadn't experienced a type of happiness at this level before. But that level of happiness for a flower? "Hi there," Nick broke his silence at last, stepping forward. "Looking at one of my favorites, there. Takes me hours just to set one row of petals." He didn't brag. It was a fact. And it took much longer to set the smaller, inner ones.

The work it had taken to create the rose in his hands, it was amazing to behold. Will found himself hoping he could help the shop owner succeed in love, not just because of his curse. The man deserved to have such a wonderful emotion in his life, when he could bring such happiness with his creations. Nick deserved to be happy too. Suddenly, William's duty had become more then just that.

Nick's voice drifted through his mind, unheeded. The other man simply couldn't be talking to him. William knew it couldn't be possible, and yet he did turn eventually, tilting his head questioningly. He hadn't spoken to anyone in forever. "I know I've watched you work." It would probably sound creepy, if Nick even heard. The wispy voice had ghost written all over it, disused and rusty.

Nick tilted his head at the man. The voice was surprising, soft on the ears, like a feather tickling, a trickle of water falling and finding its way through one's hair just behind the ear. Curious, though, and it made Nick smile. "Really?" He asked, a bit surprised. "I've never seen you around here." And usually he didn't work on a flower this difficult---this delicate---where everyone could see it, and where it could easily slide off the counter by mistake. But then, perhaps he was speaking of his other works. The lilies, the sunflowers, the colorful explosion of various leaves made to look like a larger flower. Those were intricate, and large, and usually stout. He would add things to make them catch the light, little crystals or diamond powder---diamonds were so common on the island, of course, they were more of a common currency than anything else. But it was knowledge only for the natives of the island---lest their veins be prodded and poked and sucked dry.

So Nick really had heard him. William turned his washed out looking eyes to the flower again and placed it carefully back upon the shelf. He'd been caught and couldn't bring it away with him. Shaking his head, the dark haired brunette turned from the bloom he wanted so much. It was always the same story, no matter what.

"That's no surprise, I've been rather discreet." Without the preserved flower in his hands, William found himself forgetting again, losing focus and his sudden solidity. He smiled while gazing at the other man, a reassuring expression he hoped would stop Nick from being frightened as he faded away. The simple contact had made Will's year. Was his name Will? It was supposed to be longer....

The ghost blinked, feeling that tug and knowing it came from the shop owner. Hadn't he talked to him? The spirit drifted closer the wall, where the flowers lay. They comforted him, he was glad he didn't need to leave.

(Yes he turned invisible again)

What just happened? Nick was left staring awestruck at the place that once held what he'd felt to be a solid human. Or at least, what he assumed to be a solid human. Was he going insane...? It could be a possibility, though Nick had never been predisposed to insanity or other mental problems. A ghost. It had to be it! It would explain his project that morning falling off the counter, the oddly cool breezes, the way the man's voice slid across his ears like satin, quiet, and not really there. Like a slight whisper.

He breathed in deeply as someone called his name. Nick turned quickly and went back to the counter, taking money and giving change and sliding the buyers' items into their cloth bags. Cloth bags of varying sizes---bags were never plastic in Coral Reef to cut down on littering, and few people were smokers. In fact, several miles out, meshes were set up that wildlife could easily get through, but trash and debris were caught before they reached the shores. The meshes were nearly clear, so they didn't take away from the sight. It was why Nick loved it so much, the whole place and its mystery. But now he couldn't focus on his work with the flower. He couldn't stop thinking about the... spirit? Perhaps... There was little doubt in the true-believer's mind.

He collected himself to remember who he was. William, the man who had died while ruining someone's chances at true love. He had tried to forget that, but had never been able to. It was just one of those things that stuck in the mind, clinging to it like sticky cobwebs that refused to be swept away. He'd arrived to the island by boat, had tried to escape it with the lady love he'd stolen at the same time. They'd both died, leaving her true love and his friend behind. A thorough mess...

The ghost floated through the isles and made his way to the counter. William settled upon it to watch over the goings on of the shop, and to keep an eye out for Charlie. Will leaned over to push at the flower Nick worked on experimentally. It was easier to make it move then before. Practice really did seem to help. To think, he could have spoken with so many over the years! Maybe he would have already been gone if he'd made the effort needed to break his curse.

What to do? That was a difficult question to answer now. He never necessarily had things to do, and as people began waking up and coming into the shop more and more, Nick would have to busy himself somehow. Perhaps get back to work on the flower... But that spirit. No doubt it was a spirit, too. Why was he here? Had he always been with him? The thought made him extremely embarrassed suddenly---would he have been upstairs? Watched him sleep, bathe, sit about and do nothing? Or imagine what life would be like if he could just get up the courage to talk to Charlie and establish a date, a meeting, something beyond meeting in his shop or on the street? For a moment Nick didn't realize he could feel so awkward, not even when he was with Charlie at school in those projects.

A few people bought fish, some went right for the flowers. A couple bought a whole bunch of the things, and asked if he had cloth to wrap them up. Of course---Nick sold bunches of flowers for young men and women hoping to surprise their loves, or parents, or older couples celebrating a birthday, an anniversary. He had rolls of ribbon and thin cloth to wrap them up beautifully. In the quiet times he would glance at the flower he was supposed to be working on, and once could have swore it shifted. "Um..." He looked around and found no one. "Ghost? What... I mean, if you are... mind moving the flower again? So I can be sure...?" He felt stupid. Almost as if he were talking to the air, but there was something... more.

The ghost, Will, wallowed by the flower. By now the spirit lay upon the counter, staring at the rose's petal. They were so delicately curled, glimmering because of the gel used to preserve them. He started, eyes going wide, when the store owner began speaking to him.

For a moment William sat up, poised with his immaterial fingers hovering over the flower. There had never been any rules against him being seen in his curse... It just hadn't happened. Shaking his head, the spirit concentrated upon the flower and making it move.

The rose shifted, moving across the counter towards Nick. It was beautiful .... And a rather strange sigh, to see the vase simply moving like that. Or at least, Will thought it must be so. He was the ghost, the one who could see himself at all times while Nick, well apparently he could see him when he had enough energy, and the blond certainly seemed to believe in his existence.

Nick gasped slightly, snatching up the base and the flower as if it were in immediate danger, but mostly it was to stop its moving. It was obvious. Obvious that something was there, and it had to be the spirit he saw not long ago. "Um... So you're really here." He muttered, quietly. Someone else had come into the shop and he didn't want to seem insane. After all, everyone seemed to know one another in some way on this island, if they were native. "Okay... Okay, so..." He sighed, setting the flower down again. "So this is... real. Maybe." he reached into his pocket, pinching his leg and twitching. "Ow! Okay, real." He nodded quickly. "So, ah... can you talk? Or... show me...? Show yourself like before?" He didn't know how to communicate with something he couldn't see, unless, of course, that something materialized like before. Besides, even if he tried to ignore it, Nick would feel terribly awkward about standing about with something---someone, that is---possibly staring at him.

He laughed, hearing his own voice floating in the air. It actually did resound in the space, light and airy. William reached out to let his fingers rest against the flower again. He tried to willfully pull energy from it, and found that the energy within was mixed with Nick's. The emotion he'd put into preserving the flowers had left a mark upon them. A mark a ghost could feel.

William became more solid. He was sure he could be seen now, though while still being quite transparent. The spirit lifted his head to peer at Nick with a half-smile. "Well? Am I real enough for you?" He leaned forward, suddenly darkening hair falling over his bright blue eyes.

He closed his eyes hard. A laugh that definitely wasn't from the young woman leaving the shop after having inspected the fish in the tank. And the materialization. How did he describe that? Like water running over his vision but only distorting a certain place, slowly gaining pigment and form and... substance. Humanity. Something cool, like spring water on the eyes, like a breeze coming from a shaded tunnel on a heated day. And indeed, the dark hair looked like a shadow, like a cool shaded tree in the middle of a sunny field. And his eyes looked like water, like the ocean, tempering the heavy height of the day.

"Yeah---I mean... I mean, yeah, you're real enough." Nick shook himself, almost feeling as if he were going to fall backward. "B...but how long? That is, how long... have you been here?" A direct answer to a direct question. Nick wasn't sure he wanted to know, really.

"Here the island, or here at the shop?" The ghost laughed again. It felt so good to talk to someone else! He'd never thought he could. It brought such joy to his spirit heart. "I've been on the island for two centuries. I've been in the shop since this morning. So no, I've not been spying on you." He could tell that's what was worrying the other man.

As a ghost, Will had been forced to observe life for centuries. It had been entertainment, saddening ... Jealousy inducing, but that had led him down the completely wrong path before. Shaking his head at the memory, William averted his eyes to stare at the flower. His fingers flitted lightly over the petals.

Nick was still reeling from the shock of it all, but slowly coming to terms with the fact that he was always right---and his parents, and siblings, were always wrong. Indeed there were ghosts---spirits, perhaps, was a better term, but he didn't have an extensive vocabulary right now. He sat on the stool behind the counter and breathed in and out carefully. "Oh... oooh, okay. Two hundred years? Two hundred! This island is barely three... You must have been among some of the first to settle this land... To bring it up to what it is now..." Nick laughed, and regarded the spirit. No one else could see him. only Nick. He would surely look crazy if he were talking to himself, or appeared to have an imaginary friend.

"But... How? I mean... I know you wouldn't want to talk about it, so I won't bring it up... But how... did you get along? Or how do you get along? Without anyone seeing you... or talking to you. And watching everything change around you. It must be... strange, right?" He wanted to know so much... But this spirit didn't seem to be able to freely come to the human world from whatever universe existed after life. It seemed he was stuck. After all, this might be paradise, but some bigger, more amazing paradise had to exist beyond.

The host rolled his eyes, lifted his hands to stretch his arms. He leaned back against his hands, tilting his head to peer at Nick with a smile. "I haven't spoken to anyone since my untimely demise. As for strange ... It passes by in a haze. I can barely remember my name most days. There is something that drives me, something I must do ... So I can move on. It is such a hard task, much harder then I ever could have imagined..." The ghost let a wispy sigh escape his lips.

His frame shivered, became transparent. Talking took too much energy. He reached out to touch the flower, but there wasn't enough. So ... he did the unthinkable. He reached and let his hand fall upon Nick's. Instantly, William became solid once more.

He gasped before he was able to do anything else---pull his hand back, stand, speak. It felt like his hand and forearm were thrust into a snow bank as the spirit touched him, and Nick couldn't quite react the right way. He was thinking about pulling his hand back, but instead went forward, and stood, as if pulled by the spirit. "How does that... happen...?" He breathed carefully, feeling a tremor in his voice despite the steadiness he generally felt otherwise. Was that how the touch of a spirit felt in general? It was odd... He'd sometimes felt a sudden cool breeze, a cold sensation, whenever he walked down the street... Was that a spirit? Or was his occasional sadness the result of a depressed spirit's own sadness? Nick felt an influx of sensation he couldn't describe, and finally managed to back away.

"D-do you... take energy... to stay visible?" He asked at last. It took a lot to just find his voice, and Nick could only compare that sensation to how he felt around Charlie.

"It would seem so..." It was odd, how solid he felt now. Odder still, how Nick had leaned forward at William's touch. He hadn't expected that. Then again, nothing about this situation was expected. The feel of the hard counter, his fingers suddenly digging into the smooth surface... Will was a ghost and yet he could feel that. Shaking his head, he contemplated letting himself disappear, and yet couldn't find it within him. As a spirit, William had longed to speak with someone, anyone, for centuries. Now he was doing so. Cutting the conversation short never really crossed his mind.

Instead, he shifted to sit cross legged facing the other man. "Don't ask me how it works. I've only just discovered the ability." Maybe they could figure it out together, though somehow that seemed counter productive. William still needed to find a way to get Nick together with the man he liked.