He didn't need to search for Juice Wrld anymore. He had finally learned how to live with the ghost.
Leo stared at the white search bar. It was 2:17 AM. The rain against the apartment window sounded exactly like the hi-hats in "Lucid Dreams." You searched for Juice Wrld
He clicked the first video. A younger version of himself—baggy jeans, a shattered phone screen, and eyes that held too much hurt—stared back from the thumbnail. The beat dropped. That pitched-up voice crooned about heartbreak and purple potions. He didn't need to search for Juice Wrld anymore
Leo laughed. It was a dry, tired sound. He wasn't that kid anymore. He had a degree now. A job that didn't involve a hairnet. Mia was a ghost who only haunted him on lonely Tuesdays. a shattered phone screen