I was asleep when I felt his hands touch my skin, his icy cold hands.

"Get off of me!" I yell shoving him off as I sit up in my bed.

Tate looks taken a back, and for a second I feel incredibly bad for being so cruel and rude to my friend, but then I remembered what I have been speculating since two months ago.

"Get out." I say, rage building up in my throat.

"What," Tate asks, "why, what did I do?"

"What are you?" I ask him.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't treat me like a fool," I tell him, "what are you, we never go out of the house, we never hang out outside of the house, and no one, besides me, has seen you, well maybe Michael and those people at that one part-"

"So." Tate says, sounding annoyed.

"So, legend says that spirits can only walk the earth freely and be with their loved ones on All Hollow's Eve." I say through my clenched teeth.

Tate mulls it over, "I don't know what you're getting at."

"Then let me be blunt," I say.

"Tate, are you dead?" I ask him.

Tate looks at me with those dark brown eyes, so dark, they look black sometimes.

"If I say yes will you run?" He asks me.

I take a moment to look him straight in the eye, "No." I reply.

Tate sighs, "Then yes." He says.

I look down at my body, I didn't know I was holding my breath until I actually let one out. Tate slowly walks over to the my bed and sits down besides me.

"Hi I'm Tate, wanna hook up?" He asks me.

I throw a pillow at his face, and just before it hits him, I can see a sly grin on his angelic face.

"So what else have you been lying to me about?" I ask him.

We're down in the kitchen now. Tate has used his kitchen skills to try and win me over, so far, it's almost working, he's made me an omelet.

"Since 1994." Tate replies.

"Jesus, no wonder, I just thought you were trying to be cool by wearing vintage clothing, ya know bullshit like that." I say, stabbing my omelet with a fork.

Tate smiles, "No it's just my own wardrobe."

I suppress my smile and the next question that's been bugging me comes up, "Are you the guy in the black rubber suit?"

Tate stops doing what he's doing and looks back at me, "What did you say?" He asks me, his voice dropping low and sinister.

A cold chill goes down my spine, "Black rubber suit, is that you?" I ask him.

Tate looks like he wants to do something terrible, "No, no it's not." He says.

"Oh," I say, "sorry thought I'd ask."

"No," Tate says, placing a hand on mine, "tell me everything, leave out no details, this is important." Tate says.

"Okay," I say swallowing the last of my food, "I'll tell you everything."

I told Tate everything, everything I could remember. I told him about the nightmares, the rubbersuit, how long I suspected Tate of being a ghost.

"I figured you knew something was it," Tate says, resting his head on my lap, while I play with his hair, "the hou- I can sense it."

"You can?" I ask him.

Tate sighs, "Yeah I can." Tate says absent mindedly stroking my leg.

"So what are we gonna do now?" I ask him.

I watch Tate stare at the ceiling fan, putting all his focus on that one item in my room, I focus on him and all my troubles seem to float, I don't even think about my father.

"We act normal," he says, and then sits up straight, now sitting on the bed, his face now facing mine, "but I must ask you one favor."

"Sure." I say.

"Promise me you won't tell Michael about this and if you ever see that rubbersuited fucker again," He says cradling my face, "run like Hell."

A/N: Hi I'm really sorry about the long wait, I'm really glad I have people still reading this story, I hope you enjoy. -T