(no subject)
Conversations With Dead People
PG-13; Brendon/Ryan (Ryan/Spencer, Brendon/Jon)
for lady_stargazer.
beta by yankeesdtr and tragedy.
“Mom, I don’t think I really -“
“You’re going. You’re not going to get out of this.”
“Mom -“
“Brendon. Go and pack, all right?”
“But mom -“
“Go!”
Brendon turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, making as much noise as he could stomping up the stairs.
“Sorry,” his mother said into the telephone. “I’m sorry I’m sending him to you such a cranky brat. But I have no idea what he’d do here all summer anyway.”
“It’s all right. I have one of those myself,” said her sister. “Mine’s upset that his best friend is spending the summer in Europe.”
“Maybe they’ll entertain each other and minimize the teenage angst,” said Brendon’s mother.
“One can only hope.”
Both women laughed, while upstairs Brendon slammed around his bedroom, throwing things into his suitcase.
***
“Spencer, hurry up!”
“I’m not going!”
“Oh my… Spencer James Smith get down here right now.”
Knowing he was in trouble then, Spencer thudded down the stairs, almost running into his mother at the bottom. His hair was a disaster and he was clearly not dressed for going out in public.
“I swear…” his mother began, then trailed off, shaking her head. “You’re going. Your poor cousin is going to think we’ve forgotten to pick him up at the airport.”
“I don’t really see why I should have to go,” Spencer said. “I mean, I haven’t seen him since we were like, six. It’s not like we’re suddenly going to be best friends or anything. I mean, that was ten years ago.”
“I am not expecting that,” his mother said, and he knew he was in trouble by the tone of her voice. “I am, however, expecting you to make the poor kid feel welcome.”
“Fine,” Spencer said, and marched out of the house and out to the car, wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and his hair a mess. He’d pass it off as styled if anyone asked, even though it was clearly just-rolled-out-of-bed.
***
Brendon was sitting on a bench outside the airport, in front of the arrivals gate, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. He sighed and slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose. They’d forgotten him. He just knew that his mother had told them the wrong time, or it had slipped their minds, and he was going to end up sitting there on that bench until the wee hours of the morning, until they finally remembered him. He hoped that he didn’t get kidnapped and raped or something. He was cute, it could totally happen. He sighed and tapped his fingertips against his cheek.
“Is that him?” Spencer asked, pointing at the bored-looking kid sitting on a bench, one huge suitcase sitting next to him. Spencer’s mother squinted.
“I think so,” she said, and pulled over, pulling the car to a stop in front of the boy. He looked up, and yes, this was obviously her sister’s son. Same eyes. “Help him with his bag.” Spencer shot his mother a dirty look before opening the door.
“Brendon, right?” Spencer said. He wasn’t about to let some strange kid into his mom’s car. He could’ve been a serial killer. Well, he could still be a serial killer. Spencer was kind of unclear on why Brendon’s mother was sending him away for the summer anyway.
“Yeah,” Brendon said, pushing his glasses up again as he grabbed hold of his suitcase. Spencer walked around to the back of the car as his mother opened the trunk. It took both Brendon and Spencer to haul the suitcase into the trunk.
“Jesus, what the hell did you bring? Bricks?” Spencer muttered.
“No, I had to pack everything into one suitcase, though,” Brendon said. Spencer noticed that he had a brightly colored backpack with messages scrawled on it in Sharpie. Spencer decided in that moment that he was clearly superior to Brendon. Honestly, who carried a backpack that looked like that? Spencer couldn’t remember much about Brendon, really, but this kid was a dork. And Spencer wasn’t popular by any means, but Brendon must have really been suffering.
“Well, okay, get in the car,” Spencer said, shrugging. He tugged open the passenger door.
“Honey, if you don’t mind riding in the back?” his mother said. Spencer stood there, glaring at her, before turning around and marching back to the back passenger door and jerking it open, climbing in and settling into the back seat for a good sulk. Brendon climbed into the front seat and leaned over, hugging his aunt before settling into the seat and buckling himself in, his backpack in the floorboard at his feet.
"How was your flight?" she asked, checking around before pulling back out into the road. Brendon shrugged.
"It was a flight. There was this woman with a little baby in the same row as me, and I think he screamed until he passed out. Or the mom slipped him something and knocked him out, but I didn't see her do anything," Brendon said. Spencer was pretty sure it had all come out in one breath. He rolled his eyes. His mother happened to see it in the rearview and shot him a glare. "But I was scared that you guys had forgotten, or my mom told you wrong and I was just going to have to sit out there forever."
"We were just running a little late. Spencer wasn't ready to leave when I was," she said. Spencer rolled his eyes.
"That is because I didn't want to come," Spencer said.
"Is that why your hair looks like that?" Brendon asked, and he had a look of wide-eyed innocence on his face. Spencer's mother laughed.
"So what's the real reason your mom sent you out here for the summer? Tired of listening to you talk?" Spencer snapped. He watched the faked-innocent look change to one of hurt.
"Spencer!" his mother bellowed. "You're going to be grounded if you keep at this, do you know that?"
"Whatever," Spencer said.
"Oh honestly, I don't know what your problem is, but you're definitely not getting on the internet today," his mother said.
"What? No, if Ryan e-mails --"
"He has better things to do in Europe than email you, Spencer," his mother said. "And you've got to stop talking back like that. I can't handle it."
"Sorry," Spencer muttered, but he didn't sound sorry at all.
At least Spencer's outburst had gotten Brendon out of having to answer the question.
***
Brendon was sitting on the floor, rummaging through his backpack when Spencer appeared in the doorway.
"Just so you know," he said, and Brendon jumped, looking up, startled. "They told us this house was haunted when we moved in. Because it's old or whatever. But I've never seen anything."
"Then it's probably not haunted," Brendon replied. Spencer didn't like his tone.
"Yeah, well," Spencer said, "this is supposed to be the haunted room. That's why it's the guest room. So none of us have to sleep in here."
"Whatever," Brendon said, rolling his eyes. He didn't believe in that stuff anyway.
***
"So like," Brendon said, "you don't listen to your mom at all, do you?"
"Uh, what?" Spencer asked. Brendon was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal. Spencer's mother had forced him out of bed to take out the garbage.
"Like, I heard you moving around upstairs last night, dude, I'm not stupid. You were like, e-mailing your friend or whatever even though your mom grounded you," he said.
"Um, no," Spencer said, looking at Brendon like there were lobsters crawling out his ears. "I pretty much don't have a choice but to stick to that kind of thing. I don't want to be grounded for longer than I have to be."
"Probably shouldn't talk back, then," Brendon said, picking up his bowl and drinking the milk, before walking over to the sink and rinsing it out. "I put it in the dishwasher, right?" he asked. Spencer nodded, glaring at him. Brendon put the bowl in then walked out of the room.
***
Brendon was determined to catch Spencer wandering up and down the halls. He just knew that it was happening, because how else would he be hearing footsteps in the hallway? He didn't believe for one second that the house was haunted, just like Spencer didn't. If the Smiths had lived there for ten years and hadn't seen anything, then there was very little likelihood that there was a ghost.
Brendon didn't think any more about it, and that night, when he heard the steps, he scrambled out of bed and stuck his head out in the hallway. Empty. He frowned. Spencer was quicker than he was. He just couldn't understand how Spencer's parents didn't hear it.
He sighed and closed the door again, turning to climb back into the bed. He wasn't prepared to see someone standing in front of the window.
Brendon shrieked. He couldn't help it. The boy didn't seem to hear it, though Brendon was sure that everyone in the house was going to be awake now. He was tall and thin, with dark hair and... what the hell was he wearing? Was that a waistcoat? Seriously?
Behind Brendon, the door opened, and he turned around, looking at Spencer's mother and father standing there, with Spencer and his two little sisters trying to peek over their parents' shoulders to see.
"What's wrong?" Spencer's mother asked. Brendon just stared at them for a moment. Couldn't they see what his problem was? Clearly they were being burgled. He turned around to point and froze.
The boy wasn't there anymore.
"I thought I saw something," Brendon said pathetically.
"Oh honey," Spencer's mother said. "We thought you were hurt. You're all right?"
"Yes," Brendon said, and he could feel the tops of his cheeks heating up and knew that they were turning bright red.
"Good," Spencer's mother said. She turned around. "Everyone back in bed. Go!" She shooed them away from the door before turning back to Brendon. "You should get some sleep." They all walked away from the doorway. Brendon stood there for a moment.
Spencer was the last to walk away from the door, but not before mouthing "freak" at Brendon. Brendon wanted to chase him down and punch him in the nose, but since then he'd probably be out of a place to stay, he decided against it and slunk back into bed.
That night, he dreamt of faceless dark haired boys in old fashioned clothes, and woke up feeling like he hadn't slept in days.
***
"Mom was really unhappy about that," Brendon was saying. Spencer stood just inside the screen door to the back patio, listening while Brendon chattered away on the phone. Okay, so maybe he was a bad person for eavesdropping. He didn't care. "No, she didn't really buy it. I guess because she'd followed me. I mean, she'd seen, right? So like, I couldn't say 'oh, mom, we're just friends' since she'd already seen us."
Spencer raised an eyebrow. That certainly sounded incriminating.
"No, she sent me out here because she thought removing me from the situation would change things," Brendon continued. Spencer wished he could hear both sides of the conversation. "Yeah." A pause. "Yeah. No, those were her exact words. Removing Brendon from the situation. That and I think she wanted me out of the house so that she and dad can have a child free vacation."
Whatever the person on the other end of the line said made the back of Brendon's neck color red. "Oh God," he said then. "I hope not. I'll kill myself. Or something. Maybe not. Can I move out and live with you?" Brendon laughed then. He had a stupid laugh, Spencer thought. Brendon was quiet for a long time, then. Spencer thought about saying something, but just opted to keep his mouth shut.
"No, I mean, if you. If you find someone else. I'm not even going to be back until the end of the summer. Besides, we're not. It wasn't like we were officially dating, so. I'm not going to be like, oh, well, you cheated on me, because I'm not there. I'd want you to do the same, you know? If I wanted to see other people."
Spencer wondered what kind of girl Brendon was seeing that his mother wanted him removed from the situation. And what kind of girl would straight up ask if she could see other people.
"No," Brendon continued. "The only people that I've been around are my aunt and uncle and my cousins, and that's gross." He laughed that stupid laugh again. "What? My cousin? He's a dick, dude. I'm not even kidding right now. Like. A few nights ago he called me a freak because I swear to you, I saw someone in my room, and then I screamed like a bitch. No, no one was there, how could there be someone there?"
Spencer finally cleared his throat, and Brendon turned around, startled looking up at Spencer, almost falling off the stair he was sitting on.
"I gotta go," Brendon said quickly. "Yeah. Yeah. Bye."
"So I'm a dick?" Spencer asked.
"How long were you standing there?" Brendon asked.
"Answer my question first," Spencer said, putting one hand on his hip.
"Yeah, you are," Brendon said, still looking up at Spencer. "You've been a total asshole to me the whole time I've been here, and dude, I didn't do anything to you. Okay? I didn't. I don't know why you have like, this chip on your shoulder or whatever, but if it's because your friend left you here alone for the summer, that is not my fault."
Spencer looked a little startled.
"Now answer my question," Brendon said.
"What question?" Spencer asked, his tone snotty.
"How long were you standing there?" Brendon repeated.
"Long enough to know that like, your mom didn't want you dating whoever you were talking to," Spencer said. "So what kind of girl were you seeing that your mom was all upset and shipped you off for the summer? Lots of tattoos and piercings?"
"Not really any of your business," Brendon said, and pushed past Spencer into the house, clutching his phone tightly in his hand.
***
It was nearly two weeks before Brendon saw anything or heard anything again. Then one afternoon, when Spencer's mother had taken her daughters out and her son had gone off to hang out with the friends that hadn't left him, Brendon saw him again. He was alone in the house, and this time, there wasn't anyone to come running if he screamed.
There he was, the boy in the waistcoat, standing next to the window. Brendon could see, this time, that everything else he was wearing was equally old fashioned.
Then Brendon realized that he could see through the boy.
"Um," he said a little nervously.
The boy turned around, and smiled when he saw Brendon. His pale face was delicate, almost feminine, and his dark hair fell across his forehead.
"You can see me," he said. Brendon nodded. "No one's been able to see me for a long time."
"Uh," Brendon said, now thoroughly freaked out. "That's because you're a ghost, probably."
"Oh, I know," the boy said. "But the people that lived here before your cousin had a little girl that could see me. She slept in this room. But no one that lives here now can."
"Technically I shouldn't even be able to," Brendon said. The boy shrugged.
"But you can," the boy said.
"Um, shouldn't you go toward the light or something? Wouldn't that be better than hanging around here? This place is kind of boring as shit." Brendon continued. The ghost actually looked offended.
"Of course," the ghost said. "Of course. Thank you for enlightening me." Now he just sounded bitter. "I've only been hanging around here for 100 years for my health. I'll go right into that light as soon as I find it."
Brendon looked startled, and the boy faded and disappeared. "I'm sorry!" Brendon called out to the empty room.
He hoped the ghost heard it.
***
A week later, the ghost was sitting on his bed when he walked into the room. To Brendon's credit, he didn't scream, but he did jump. The ghost just looked at him.
"Okay, so who were you? When you were alive," Brendon asked quietly, shutting his bedroom door.
"That's much nicer than what you said to me last time," the ghost said. Brendon shrugged.
"Yeah, well. I'm sorry about last time," Brendon said.
"It's just not that easy, you know?" The ghost blinked at him. He had pretty lips. Brendon couldn't believe that he'd just thought that about a dead person. "I'm Ryan."
"And you're dead," Brendon said.
"Quite," Ryan said. "I actually died right here."
"What?" Brendon asked, almost jumping off the bed.
"Oh, not in this bed, obviously. The family that lived here in the sixties thought it had... what did they say? Bad vibes. They got rid of it," Ryan explained. "But here in this room."
"Like, of old age?" Brendon asked.
"Unfortunately not," Ryan said. He looked a little bit sad, lowering his eyes. The shirt he was wearing looked stiff. Brendon wondered if the clothes he was wearing now were what he'd been buried in. "I took sick. There was nothing the doctor could do."
"I'm sorry," Brendon said, a little shocked.
"I was too weak," Ryan continued. "I'd been sick a few months previously, never recovered."
"Did it hurt?" Brendon asked. "I mean, to die?"
"I went to sleep and didn't wake up," Ryan said. "So I don't know. It hurt a lot, all the coughing, before. Now it doesn't."
"So it really is kind of like it's better," Brendon said.
"I suppose." Brendon watched as the ghost ran his fingers through his hair.
"So why are you stuck here," Brendon asked.
"I don't know," the ghost said. "I wish I did. I'd like to move on. But it's nice to have company. Someone to talk to. I've tried to get Spencer to talk to me quite a lot, but he can't see me or hear me."
"I'm sorry," Brendon said.
"Oh, don't be," Ryan told him. "I just wanted to see if he could figure out a way to make the house let me go."
"Oh," Brendon said. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'd help, if I could. I don't know anything about ghosts, though."
The ghost reached out and touched the back of Brendon's hand. Or rather, stuck his fingers through the back of Brendon's hand. It was like Brendon had stuck his hand in a freezer. He shivered, and Ryan drew back.
"Sorry," Ryan said. "I forget that I can't touch, sometimes."
"You're cold," Brendon said, even though this was probably obvious to Ryan.
"I can't feel it," Ryan said.
"Oh," Brendon said. "Um. So. Is there a way that I can help you?" If he'd already been stuck here for 100 years, it wasn't likely that Brendon was going to be able to help him.
The ghost just shrugged.
"Okay," Brendon said, drawing the word out. "Um. I really don't know what you want me to do, then."
"Talking to me makes me feel better," Ryan said. Brendon couldn't help thinking how gorgeous he must have been when he was living. He didn't mean to think it.
"None of Spencer's family can see you? Really?" Brendon asked.
"No," Ryan said, shaking his head, then reaching up to move his hair off of his forehead. "I'm sorry that I scared you, that first night. I didn't think, I wouldn't have shown up like that, at night."
"I didn't believe Spencer when he said this place was haunted," Brendon blurted out.
"It's not, really. I don't move things around. A lot of the time I just sit here," Ryan said. "So it's not really haunting. I'm not doing anything."
"No offense, but you're a ghost, and you're hanging around. That kind of makes you haunting," Brendon said.
"Even so. I'd leave if I could," Ryan said.
"Me too," Brendon said quietly. Ryan smiled a little bit. "How do I help you?"
"I don't know," Ryan said.
"I mean, did they bury you wrong? Do you have unfinished business?" Brendon asked.
"I suppose I probably do," Ryan said. "Or I did. Everyone I knew is long dead. I have a few blood relatives that still live in this town, but I don't know how that helps anything."
"So what could be your unfinished business?" Brendon asked.
"When I was alive, I --" Ryan was interrupted by the door swinging open.
"Brendon, mom says get off your phone and get downstairs for dinner," Spencer said, before slamming the door back behind him. Brendon could hear him thumping down the stairs, and then he could hear Spencer's mother yelling, even though he couldn't really tell what was being said.
He turned back to Ryan, only to find that the other boy was gone.
***
Brendon was trying to be quiet. He wasn't doing a very good job, because Spencer could still hear him.
"Seriously, though, Spencer like, follows me around when he thinks I'm going to start talking on the phone," Brendon was saying. "The other day, you know when I told you I had to go all fast? He was like, what kind of girl are you dating that your mom has to remove you from the situation? It's not really any of his business."
Spencer decided that he wanted to strangle Brendon.
"No, he's a bitch because his best friend got a trip to Europe as a graduation gift, and he's gone," Brendon was saying. There was a moment of silence, then "ew, Jon, seriously you can't. No, there's no way he ever gets laid. He's like... whatever the guy version of an ice queen is."
Spencer scooted away from the door. So that was why Brendon's mom was so desperate to send him away. He smirked to himself as he walked back to his own room.
***
"So you're gay," Spencer said, one afternoon when Spencer's mother had put the boys to work peeling potatoes for dinner. Brendon almost cut his finger off, and he looked up at Spencer.
"No," Brendon said.
"So the guy you were talking to the other night, Jon," Spencer said, "isn't the same guy you were telling to see other people while you were gone because it wasn't like you were dating or anything?"
"No," Brendon said, and both of them knew it was a lie.
"How upset would you be if your mommy found out that you were still calling your boyfriend back home even though you're not supposed to be having any contact with him?" Spencer asked. Spencer could see red creeping up Brendon's neck. Finally he threw his knife down on the table and chucked the potato into the bowl, splashing Spencer with water before storming out of the room. Spencer would have laughed if he hadn't just gotten water in his eye.
Brendon took the stairs two at a time, walking into his room and slamming the door behind him, locking it. Ryan was sitting on his bed, and he looked up when Brendon came in.
"He's not very nice to you," Ryan said quietly.
“He’s an ass,” Brendon said, flopping down on the bed, sprawled across the foot, his legs dangling down.
“He misses his friend, and he doesn’t know what to do with you here,” Ryan told him, leaning over so that he was looking down at Brendon. It was strange to be able to see the ceiling through Ryan’s face, however faintly.
“Well, he doesn’t have to be a jerk,” Brendon said.
“No, I suppose not,” Ryan said. “He doesn’t want to be your friend because his friend ditched him.”
“But still,” Brendon said. “He could at least not be an asshole.”
“Do you think that your friend that you left behind is that angry?” Ryan asked.
“Who, Jon?” Brendon asked. Ryan nodded. “He. He’s not mad, I don’t think. He can see other people. It’s not like. It’s not like we’re exclusive or whatever. We’re not dating or anything. We were just. Fooling around.”
“What does that mean?” Ryan asked, frowning. He was cute when he was looking all confused. Brendon realized with no small amount of horror that he was starting to develop a crush on a ghost.
“Um. Sex,” Brendon said. He didn’t know how else to explain it.
“Oh,” Ryan said. He didn’t look as shocked as Brendon thought he’d be. “No, I’d imagine your mother wouldn’t like that very much.”
“I know that’s like. I know that’s probably weird to you, or like, wrong. I mean, my mom thinks so, too,” Brendon said. He pushed himself up, almost bumping heads with Ryan, before he realized that couldn’t actually happen. He’d probably get a brain freeze from it, though. “Wrong, I mean. My mom thinks it’s. Like I’ll go to hell.”
“Maybe you’ll just be stuck somewhere,” Ryan said quietly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Brendon started.
“It’s okay,” Ryan said, waving his hand through the air. “My parents probably would have been very unhappy as well. They wanted me to marry very young.”
“Would you have? If you hadn’t gotten sick?” Brendon asked.
“I don’t believe so,” Ryan said, shaking his head.
“You didn’t date, though, right? That long ago people didn’t date,” Brendon said.
“Not like you do, I don’t think,” Ryan told him.
“So like, your parents would pick a girl for you?” Brendon asked.
“If I did not find one of my own, yes,” Ryan told him, nodding his head. “I had no desire to find one of my own, so they would have, eventually.”
“So you were. Was there someone that you … you know, did like?” Brendon asked. This was awkward. How was he having this conversation with a dead person?
“He actually looked quite a lot like Spencer,” Ryan said, turning his face away. “It used to upset me so that Spencer couldn’t see or hear me. Especially as he got older.”
“I’m sorry,” Brendon said, his voice going a little dry. He couldn’t imagine having to see someone everyday that reminded you of someone that you cared about, and not be able to touch them, to talk to them.
“I’ve gotten used to it,” Ryan said, he faded out a little bit, like he was going to leave.
“Ryan?” Brendon said, before he disappeared completely. “Do you think that if I found out what happened to him, you might be able to leave?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said. His voice was faint now.
“Or. What if I got Spencer to see you? Or hear you?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said.
Then he disappeared completely.
***
Brendon spent a large portion of the next three weeks doing research. Spencer looked at him like he was crazy when he mentioned that he wanted to go to the library, but was at least obliging enough to tell Brendon where it was. Spencer does not mentioned the night that they were peeling potatoes or Brendon’s questionable sexuality, either.
Brendon spent very little time talking to Jon on the phone, and a very large amount of time talking to Ryan. Which was sort of silly, because Jon was living and breathing and at least sort of interested in Brendon, whereas Ryan was, well, none of those things. But mostly the living and breathing. He was definitely not living and breathing. There was even one truly memorable time when Ryan had been standing in exactly the wrong spot when Brendon had walked into the room. Brendon had passed through him, and it had taken him nearly an hour to warm back up properly, with Ryan standing next to the bed, wringing his hands and apologizing.
Brendon kind of had a pathetic crush on Ryan. Which was stupid, because Ryan was definitely Not Alive. Brendon had even seen Ryan’s obituary when he’d been looking through microfilms of ancient newspapers. It had made him feel awful. The fact that reading the slides of decaying newspapers was giving him one hell of a headache hadn’t helped either.
So far, however, he hadn’t really made any progress. Ryan had told him the name of the boy that he’d been in love with (James), but Brendon hadn’t been able to find any mention of whether he had married or whether he had died in any of the records. Brendon was almost resigned to looking for elderly people who could have possibly been alive then (he doubted he’d have any luck). He’d had absolutely no luck in getting Spencer to realize that Ryan was there.
Brendon was starting to get frustrated. He sucked at research anyway.
He was absently clicking through microfilms one afternoon, nearly half asleep, when something caught his eye. The man on the page looked vaguely what Spencer’s father looked like, and Brendon actually perked up, thumbing his glasses back into place and squinting to read the caption on the picture.
This was it. This was Ryan’s James, right there. The picture had clearly been an older one, a portrait done when he’d been a much younger man.
And it was his obituary. He’d died a much older man, and from the looks of things, unmarried. Brendon sighed. In his head, he wanted it to be unrequited love, that James had spent the rest of his life pining for his lost love. Then he shook his head. This whole ordeal was clearly turning him into a woman.
He put away all the microfilm and shut down the machine, before picking up his backpack and heading home.
***
Ryan wasn’t there when Brendon got back to his room. He dropped his backpack down on the floor and slipped his shoes off, throwing himself down on the bed. His head was pounding and he was bursting with this new news, that James had never married, but that he’d lived into his sixties, that he’d been successful. Ryan needed to know these things.
Brendon lay there, waiting patiently for all of twenty minutes before he fell asleep.
He dreamt about Ryan. Or at least, he thought it was Ryan, but not Ryan as he knew him. This Ryan, in his dream, had carefully styled hair and was wearing dark denim jeans, a black t-shirt. He was smiling, and it was the same smile, but his face was solid, not transparent.
This Ryan, the Ryan in his dream, was not a ghost.
Brendon woke up with a start. Ryan was sitting on the bed beside him, looking bored. Brendon blinked at him sleepily.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” Ryan said. Brendon sat up abruptly, looking at him.
“Ryan, I found him,” Brendon said. “When I was in the library earlier.”
“Found… James?” Ryan asked, his eyes going wide. His cheeks became more opaque, which Brendon had come to realize meant that he was blushing. It was sort of strange, thinking that a ghost could blush.
“I mean, I didn’t find him, find him,” Brendon said. “But. But he never got married, and I wanted to tell you that. He never got married and he was like, in his sixties when he died. He was an old man.”
“Do you think he was happy?” Ryan asked. His eyes were a little shiny, like he might cry. He blinked a few times, looking away from Brendon for a moment. Brendon wondered if ghosts could cry.
“He was successful. I don’t. I don’t know if that meant that he was happy. He was smiling in the picture,” Brendon explained. Ryan nodded.
“I’m glad that he was happy,” he said, and he started fading out again. The door swung open and Spencer walked in.
“Hey, mom says -“ Spencer cut himself off, staring at Brendon. “Who. How are. Um.”
“You can see him now?” Brendon asked, his eyes wide.
“Is that. He’s not.” Spencer stuttered out.
“I did it!” Brendon said. He grinned at Spencer, who was still looking completely shocked, his face a little pale. Brendon turned to Ryan. “I made him see you!”
“He’s dead,” Spencer said.
“Yes,” Ryan said, at the same time Brendon was saying “well, you told me this place was haunted. Here’s your ghost.” Ryan even raised his hand and waved a little bit.
“I think I need to sit down,” Spencer said, then promptly did so. Ryan walked over and knelt down in front of him. “You can’t be dead.”
“I’m not your Ryan,” said the ghost, looking into Spencer’s eyes. “I’ve seen him, I know that we look alike, but I promise you that I’m not your friend. He’s alive.”
Spencer nodded.
“And after tonight, I won’t be hanging around anymore,” Ryan said. He got back to his feet, turning to Brendon.
“You won’t be hanging around anymore?” Brendon asked. He was a little hurt. He’d been trying to set the ghost free, but he hadn’t actually realized it would work.
“You did it, Brendon,” Ryan said, smiling.
“I don’t want you to leave, though,” Brendon said. This was so pathetic. He really did have a crush on the ghost.
“Things will work out for you,” Ryan said. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Brendon, and Brendon braced himself for the icy feeling of Ryan passing through him. Instead, Ryan hugged him tightly, warm and solid. Brendon’s arms came up and he hugged back.
“Please don’t leave,” Brendon said. Ryan’s hands came up and cupped his face, looking at him seriously. He was solid, living, breathing. Touching Brendon.
“I have to,” Ryan said. “But I promise you that everything will work out for you. I’ll make sure that it does, okay?”
Brendon nodded slightly.
Ryan leaned in. Brendon closed his eyes. Their lips met, just for the briefest of moments, and then Ryan’s arms around Brendon were gone. Ryan’s lips on his were gone. Brendon was left standing there, his eyes still closed, his lips slightly parted.
He opened his eyes after a moment, seeing nothing but Spencer sitting there on the floor. He closed his eyes again, balling his hands into his fists at his sides.
“You kissed a ghost,” Spencer finally said after a long moment.
“No,” Brendon said. “He kissed me.”
Spencer’s mother yelled then, and Brendon smiled, touching his fingers to his lips before stepping around Spencer and hurrying downstairs.
***
“Spencer!”
“What?”
“Get down here! There’s someone here to see you!”
Spencer thudded downstairs. Brendon got up and left his own room, wandering downstairs, just because he was curious. He stopped on the stairwell as Spencer walked into the entryway, then launched himself at a tall, slender boy with carefully styled brown hair. The boy stumbled backward and the two of them almost fell.
“God, I fucking missed you, you have no idea,” Spencer said.
“Spencer!” yelled his mother. “Do not use that language!”
“Sorry mom,” Spencer called, then unwrapped himself from the other boy, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him toward the stairs.
Halfway up they passed Brendon. Spencer’s friend pulled to a stop, his wrist sliding out of Spencer’s hand. He was looking at Brendon.
He was Ryan. There was no doubt about that. Brendon didn’t know if it was reincarnation or just sheer luck, or it was the ghost version of the boy promising that things would work out, but it was him, standing there, living and breathing with the same hair and jeans and t-shirt that he’d had on when Brendon had dreamt about him.
Ryan smiled. “Have I met you before?” he asked.
“Uh,” Brendon said. Then he managed to smile a little bit. “Maybe in a past life.”
“You are so weird,” Spencer said, then grabbed Ryan’s wrist again, pulling him the rest of the way up the stairs.
Ryan watched Brendon over his shoulder as they went.
***
Ryan stayed until late, eating dinner with the family and sitting up late, telling Spencer everything about his trip to Europe. Brendon sulked around his room, tried calling Jon twice and didn’t leave a voicemail either time.
He was laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling when someone knocked lightly on the door.
“Come in,” he called out, pushing himself up, expecting to see Spencer or his mother standing there. It wasn’t either of them. Ryan pushed the door open and stuck his head in.
“Hey,” he said quietly, and Brendon was sure that he looked totally shocked. “Um. I wanted to talk to you. I mean, I know Spencer thinks you’re weird or whatever, but I…” Ryan shrugged, walking inside. He moved the same as the ghost, and Brendon bit his lip. “I’ve seen you before. I swear.”
“You can’t have,” Brendon said. “I haven’t even seen Spencer since we were like, six. There’s no way.”
“And yet,” Ryan said, shrugging his shoulders and moving to sit down on the end of the bed. Brendon just stared at him, his cell phone clutched tightly in his fingers.
“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m crazy,” Brendon said. His eyes were wide and scared and he bit his lip as he stared at Ryan. Ryan looked down at the quilt on the bed, then back up at Brendon.
“Try me,” Ryan said.
“Um,” Brendon said, a little breathlessly and his voice on the verge of hysterics. “Um. Has Spencer ever told you that this house is supposed to be haunted?”
“Of course,” Ryan said. “He told me that the first time I spent the night, trying to scare me. He was a mean little kid. Still is. Mean, that is. Not little. Well, little too. So maybe not a kid. I’m going to shut up. Go on.”
“Anyway, he told me it was haunted when I got here, but he’d never seen a ghost, so. So I just thought,” Brendon said. He fluttered his hand absently through the air. “Anyway, so I. Well, I saw one. And I screamed like a bitch and Spencer teased me about it for days. But I saw a ghost.”
“Okay,” Ryan said, and now he sounded skeptical, like he didn’t believe Brendon for one second.
“Anyway, there was a ghost and apparently only certain people can see him, and he was lonely and he looked like you,” Brendon blurted out. “And maybe I could see him ‘cause I was lonely too, or… or maybe I’m just special, and anyway we were talking and there was this boy he loved but he’d died - Ryan. No the ghost, I mean, his name was Ryan, too, like he was you, only kind of old-timey and… dead.”
“Uh huh,” Ryan said. He looked a little surprised.
“Anyway, he’d died and he was stuck here as a ghost because he had unfinished business or because he needed to find out what had happened to his one true love, and so I found it, this guy James, and I came back here and told him and Spencer came in and saw him and it was all very romantic - Spencer’s the guy, you know? Like, reincarnated or something, I don’t know. And then he disappeared.”
Brendon left out all the parts about how the ghost had become solid, about how Brendon had been in love with him and how beautiful he was. How beautiful this living, breathing Ryan was.
“Very romantic,” Ryan said absently.
“Well, that he got to move on because he found out what happened to his lover,” Brendon said. He insisted on being stubborn about it. “It is romantic.”
“Spencer didn’t say anything about this,” Ryan said.
“Spencer pretends it didn’t happen, but he did. All that ghost wanted was to know what had happened to his James. And for Spencer to see him, because I swear to you, the guy looked just like Spencer, too,” Brendon said. “And like, Spencer repressed it or whatever. It’s too weird and not… not practical enough for him.”
“I notice that you didn’t tell him about the part where you were in love with the ghost,” Spencer said, his voice bitter, cold and hard, standing in the doorway and looking almost hurt that his best friend who had just gotten home from Europe was sitting in here listening to his crazy cousin.
“Because that’s none of his business,” Brendon snapped back. Ryan just looked back and forth between them, helpless. He didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever was going on between Brendon and Spencer.
“Oh of course,” Spencer said. “He kissed the ghost, Ryan. I watched him do it. He’s got some boyfriend that he calls and chats with and gossips about me with, too.”
“He is not my boyfriend,” Brendon said, glaring at Spencer.
“No? Then what is he?” Spencer asked.
“He’s just. A friend,” Brendon said.
“A friend that you were telling to go ahead and see other people while you were here, because you weren’t dating, right? So does that make him something else? Just someone you fool around with?”
“Does it matter?” Ryan said, turning around and looking at Spencer.
“What?” Spencer asked.
“Does it matter who he talks to?” Ryan asked, his voice quiet. It was a little strange, how his voice seemed to have no inflection at all. “I mean. He’s not trying to steal your girlfriend, so. What’s the problem?”
“He’s-“ Spencer started, then stopped abruptly. He looked at Ryan seriously, like he expected Ryan to just figure out what he was thinking.
“Please don’t say that it’s because whoever-it-is is a guy, Spence,” Ryan said, his voice going even more quiet. “Please don’t.”
“Ryan, you know I -“ Spencer started.
“Just shut up,” Ryan said bitterly, and Brendon was a little startled. He got up off the bed and walked to the door. “If you weren’t my best friend, Spencer, I’d punch you in the face.” As it was, Ryan shoved him out of the way, sending Spencer stumbling and grabbing the doorway to keep from falling, and stormed out of the house. They both flinched when they heard the door slam.
“God dammit,” Spencer muttered, and walked out of Brendon’s room.
Brendon flinched when Spencer slammed the door.
***
Brendon was sitting on the front porch swing, reading a book, when Ryan showed up the next day.
“Spencer’s not here,” Brendon said, not looking up from his book. It was summer reading, and now the summer was almost over and he hadn’t finished it yet. Of course, he hadn’t really tried, either, because the truth was the book was boring.
“I know,” Ryan said. He walked over to the swing and waited for Brendon to move his legs so that he could sit down. Brendon shifted, and Ryan sat beside him. He was quiet for a while, swinging them slowly back and forth.
“So why are you here,” Brendon finally said, dog-earing the page he was on and closing the book.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Ryan said.
“Except, you’re just sitting here, not talking,” Brendon helpfully pointed out.
“Look, Spencer. He’s. I love him to bits and pieces but sometimes I want to choke him out because he’s so freaked out about this one time and I’ve told him over and over that it’s no big deal and if he doesn’t like guys then he doesn’t like guys, he doesn’t have to be a dick to people about it,” Ryan said. He looked surprised then, not having meant to say everything all at once like that.
“So what are you saying, exactly?” Brendon said, his voice unsure.
“It was just one time, we don’t talk about it, and he has a girlfriend so it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” Ryan was looking at him seriously. “I just think that you talking to that guy like that, or… or kissing that ghost - did that really happen? Anyway, that makes him think about it, and he doesn’t like it. Or he does like it, and that makes him cranky.”
“So you and Spencer like. What? Made out?” Brendon asked.
“Is that all you got out of everything I just said?” Ryan asked.
“A lot of words, not much point,” Brendon said. Ryan shoved him hard, faking anger, but he was laughing. Ryan had a pretty smile. They were quiet for a moment, Ryan slouching down on the swing and putting his feet against the railing, pushing them back and forth with his head on Brendon’s shoulder. He had really long legs, Brendon noticed, and they were crammed into women’s jeans, Brendon also noticed.
“Did you really have a crush on the ghost?” Ryan said after a long moment.
“He was nice,” Brendon said. “I mean. I don’t know. He was gorgeous and nice and just. And… and he was dead, so that doesn’t do me any good.”
“He looked like me, though,” Ryan said quietly.
“Yeah,” Brendon said, and his cheeks flushed pink then. It was good that Ryan wasn’t looking at him.
“So you think I’m… gorgeous?” Ryan asked.
“I guess so,” Brendon said. Ryan was quiet for another long moment, just swinging them back and forth. Brendon’s feet didn’t quite touch the ground.
“When I was in Europe,” Ryan said, his voice quiet. “I had this dream. About this boy. With dark hair and dark eyes and … and … “ Brendon waited, listening to Ryan breathing while he tried to figure out the right words. “About you,” Ryan finally finished. Brendon noticed that he held his breath once the words were out.
“I dreamt about you, too,” Brendon finally murmured, leaning his head over, resting his cheek against the top of Ryan’s head.
“Really?” Ryan asked. Brendon nodded, knowing that Ryan would be able to feel the motion against the top of his head.
They were quiet again, until Brendon shifted, slid his arm around Ryan and let him shift in to fill the space, closer to Brendon. Ryan rested his hand against Brendon’s thigh.
“This must be what he meant,” Brendon breathed after a long moment.
“What?” Ryan asked. He sounded sleepy, and Brendon realized then that they’d slowly stopped being pushed back and forth.
“Before he disappeared, he told me everything was going to work out,” Brendon said. Ryan nodded a little bit. “I’m going to choose to believe that this is what he meant.
“And what is this?” Ryan asked. He shifted around, dropping his feet from the porch railing and leaving them stretched out in front of them.
“You,” Brendon said. “Being here. If Spencer hadn’t been bitching about how you were gone all summer, I’d think that I dreamt you into existence.”
“I’m real, though,” Ryan said. “And not a ghost.”
“No,” Brendon said, smiling a little bit. “You’re not.”
***
Brendon wasn’t pleased to have to go back home a few weeks later. Even though he’d learned that Ryan was actually going to college only a couple of hours away from where he lived, Brendon was still upset by it. Ryan was perfect! They were in love if anyone asked.
Ryan rolled his eyes when Brendon flailed around dramatically, sitting on the back stairs while Brendon declared dramatically that he was going to die without Ryan. And that Ryan was going to have to kiss him one last time before he expired there in the grass. Ryan didn’t move. Brendon pretended to die.
Brendon cracked one eye open to see Ryan leaning over him.
“You know, I’ve only known you a couple of weeks,” Ryan informed him. “There’s no way you like me that much.”
“Wrong,” Brendon said, pushing himself up just enough to be able to push his lips up against Ryan’s. Ryan kissed him for a moment before flopping back onto his butt on the grass, looking at Brendon seriously. “I’ve known you all summer. You just didn’t know it.”
“That makes you sound like a stalker,” Ryan said.
“I have loved you from your past life,” Brendon said. “When you were transparent and dressed funny.”
“He still dresses funny,” Spencer said, walking out onto the porch. Brendon frowned at him. Ryan looked up and flipped Spencer off. Spencer just laughed. “Mom says you need to be ready to go in about twenty minutes.”
“No,” Brendon moaned. Ryan sighed and leaned down, kissing him softly.
“I’ll go with you, okay?” Ryan said. Brendon nodded. They kissed again. Spencer made gagging noises and they heard them go back into the house.
“You can’t kiss me in front of Spencer’s mom,” Brendon said. “She’ll tell my mom. I know she will.”
“I won’t. I’ll sneak off and kiss you in the bathroom or something. Your mom can’t follow us into the bathroom,” Ryan said. “Or I’ll figure out a way to tell you goodbye. You know. I’ll see you again in like, two weeks though. I’m getting to school the weekend before. You could drive up and meet me.”
“You’re assuming that my mom will let me drive up,” Brendon said.
“Hey, you told me that he said everything would work out. And it will,” Ryan said. He leaned down and kissed Brendon once more, then pushed himself to his feet, pulling Brendon up as well, and they walked back in the house.
***
“Mom,” Brendon said, bouncing into the kitchen and leaning up against the counter. His mother turned around and looked at him, her hands still stirring the spaghetti sauce for dinner. Brendon looked over into the pot. “Does that have meat in it? Because I’ve told you over and over I’m -“
“Brendon, you’ll eat it or you’ll cook your own dinner,” she told him, staring him down. He shrank back, wrinkling up his nose. “Now, what do you want?”
“Can I go up and hang out with Ryan this weekend?” he asked.
“You went up last weekend.”
“So?”
“Do you have money for gas? Is he going to get tired of you coming up to visit him? You won’t go to any parties, will you?”
“Is that a yes?” Brendon asked. His mother stared at him. “Yes, I have money for gas. No, he’s not going to get tired of me coming to visit him. I already talked to him anyway. And Ryan doesn’t drink, so I don’t think that you have to worry about him taking me to some wild college party.”
“Promise me, Brendon. If you come home on Sunday and you’ve spent Saturday night partying, I’m going to know,” she told him.
“I promise, mom,” Brendon said.
“Then you can go. How do you keep managing to get the weekends off?” she asked.
“I don’t. I have to work tomorrow morning, so I’ll go up when I get off work,” Brendon explained.
“All right,” she said.
“I’m still trying to be a vegetarian, mom,” Brendon said seriously.
“You’re still not getting any dinner that you don’t cook yourself if you don’t eat what I fix. Meat and all,” she told him.
Brendon made a horrible face and left the kitchen.
***
Brendon still had on his work uniform when he drove the van onto the college campus. He managed to maneuver it into one of the guest parking spaces. The sun was starting to set and he could see Ryan sitting on one of the benches in front of the dorm, the hood of his hoodie pulled up, his arms wrapped around his chest.
Brendon slid out of the van and punched the lock button. Sure, it was embarrassing to be driving his parents’ old van, but it was a vehicle, and it got him from one place to another and it let him drive up to see Ryan on the weekends.
He walked up the sidewalk to where Ryan was sitting, watching Ryan’s mouth twist into a smile, teeth bared when Brendon appeared.
“Hey,” Brendon said, but didn’t dare wrap his arms around Ryan or kiss him hello like he wanted to. Ryan’s sweatshirt was swallowing him whole, and his fingers were cold when he reached out and touched the back of Brendon’s hand.
“Let’s go,” he said. They walked inside, and Ryan signed in that he was going to have a guest that night, and they headed upstairs.
Ryan was lucky enough that his roommate went home nearly every weekend, and that he and Brendon were slight enough to fit together on a twin bed. Brendon wasn’t sure how the roommate put up with Ryan, since that side of the room was always neat and tidy, and Ryan’s side was covered in books and clothes and discarded papers.
Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Brendon was able to wrap his arms around Ryan, slid his hands up underneath the hoodie to touch bare skin, and kissed Ryan like he meant it. He could feel Ryan smiling against his mouth.
“See,” Ryan said. “I told you everything would work out.”
PG-13; Brendon/Ryan (Ryan/Spencer, Brendon/Jon)
for lady_stargazer.
beta by yankeesdtr and tragedy.
“Mom, I don’t think I really -“
“You’re going. You’re not going to get out of this.”
“Mom -“
“Brendon. Go and pack, all right?”
“But mom -“
“Go!”
Brendon turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, making as much noise as he could stomping up the stairs.
“Sorry,” his mother said into the telephone. “I’m sorry I’m sending him to you such a cranky brat. But I have no idea what he’d do here all summer anyway.”
“It’s all right. I have one of those myself,” said her sister. “Mine’s upset that his best friend is spending the summer in Europe.”
“Maybe they’ll entertain each other and minimize the teenage angst,” said Brendon’s mother.
“One can only hope.”
Both women laughed, while upstairs Brendon slammed around his bedroom, throwing things into his suitcase.
***
“Spencer, hurry up!”
“I’m not going!”
“Oh my… Spencer James Smith get down here right now.”
Knowing he was in trouble then, Spencer thudded down the stairs, almost running into his mother at the bottom. His hair was a disaster and he was clearly not dressed for going out in public.
“I swear…” his mother began, then trailed off, shaking her head. “You’re going. Your poor cousin is going to think we’ve forgotten to pick him up at the airport.”
“I don’t really see why I should have to go,” Spencer said. “I mean, I haven’t seen him since we were like, six. It’s not like we’re suddenly going to be best friends or anything. I mean, that was ten years ago.”
“I am not expecting that,” his mother said, and he knew he was in trouble by the tone of her voice. “I am, however, expecting you to make the poor kid feel welcome.”
“Fine,” Spencer said, and marched out of the house and out to the car, wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and his hair a mess. He’d pass it off as styled if anyone asked, even though it was clearly just-rolled-out-of-bed.
***
Brendon was sitting on a bench outside the airport, in front of the arrivals gate, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. He sighed and slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose. They’d forgotten him. He just knew that his mother had told them the wrong time, or it had slipped their minds, and he was going to end up sitting there on that bench until the wee hours of the morning, until they finally remembered him. He hoped that he didn’t get kidnapped and raped or something. He was cute, it could totally happen. He sighed and tapped his fingertips against his cheek.
“Is that him?” Spencer asked, pointing at the bored-looking kid sitting on a bench, one huge suitcase sitting next to him. Spencer’s mother squinted.
“I think so,” she said, and pulled over, pulling the car to a stop in front of the boy. He looked up, and yes, this was obviously her sister’s son. Same eyes. “Help him with his bag.” Spencer shot his mother a dirty look before opening the door.
“Brendon, right?” Spencer said. He wasn’t about to let some strange kid into his mom’s car. He could’ve been a serial killer. Well, he could still be a serial killer. Spencer was kind of unclear on why Brendon’s mother was sending him away for the summer anyway.
“Yeah,” Brendon said, pushing his glasses up again as he grabbed hold of his suitcase. Spencer walked around to the back of the car as his mother opened the trunk. It took both Brendon and Spencer to haul the suitcase into the trunk.
“Jesus, what the hell did you bring? Bricks?” Spencer muttered.
“No, I had to pack everything into one suitcase, though,” Brendon said. Spencer noticed that he had a brightly colored backpack with messages scrawled on it in Sharpie. Spencer decided in that moment that he was clearly superior to Brendon. Honestly, who carried a backpack that looked like that? Spencer couldn’t remember much about Brendon, really, but this kid was a dork. And Spencer wasn’t popular by any means, but Brendon must have really been suffering.
“Well, okay, get in the car,” Spencer said, shrugging. He tugged open the passenger door.
“Honey, if you don’t mind riding in the back?” his mother said. Spencer stood there, glaring at her, before turning around and marching back to the back passenger door and jerking it open, climbing in and settling into the back seat for a good sulk. Brendon climbed into the front seat and leaned over, hugging his aunt before settling into the seat and buckling himself in, his backpack in the floorboard at his feet.
"How was your flight?" she asked, checking around before pulling back out into the road. Brendon shrugged.
"It was a flight. There was this woman with a little baby in the same row as me, and I think he screamed until he passed out. Or the mom slipped him something and knocked him out, but I didn't see her do anything," Brendon said. Spencer was pretty sure it had all come out in one breath. He rolled his eyes. His mother happened to see it in the rearview and shot him a glare. "But I was scared that you guys had forgotten, or my mom told you wrong and I was just going to have to sit out there forever."
"We were just running a little late. Spencer wasn't ready to leave when I was," she said. Spencer rolled his eyes.
"That is because I didn't want to come," Spencer said.
"Is that why your hair looks like that?" Brendon asked, and he had a look of wide-eyed innocence on his face. Spencer's mother laughed.
"So what's the real reason your mom sent you out here for the summer? Tired of listening to you talk?" Spencer snapped. He watched the faked-innocent look change to one of hurt.
"Spencer!" his mother bellowed. "You're going to be grounded if you keep at this, do you know that?"
"Whatever," Spencer said.
"Oh honestly, I don't know what your problem is, but you're definitely not getting on the internet today," his mother said.
"What? No, if Ryan e-mails --"
"He has better things to do in Europe than email you, Spencer," his mother said. "And you've got to stop talking back like that. I can't handle it."
"Sorry," Spencer muttered, but he didn't sound sorry at all.
At least Spencer's outburst had gotten Brendon out of having to answer the question.
***
Brendon was sitting on the floor, rummaging through his backpack when Spencer appeared in the doorway.
"Just so you know," he said, and Brendon jumped, looking up, startled. "They told us this house was haunted when we moved in. Because it's old or whatever. But I've never seen anything."
"Then it's probably not haunted," Brendon replied. Spencer didn't like his tone.
"Yeah, well," Spencer said, "this is supposed to be the haunted room. That's why it's the guest room. So none of us have to sleep in here."
"Whatever," Brendon said, rolling his eyes. He didn't believe in that stuff anyway.
***
"So like," Brendon said, "you don't listen to your mom at all, do you?"
"Uh, what?" Spencer asked. Brendon was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal. Spencer's mother had forced him out of bed to take out the garbage.
"Like, I heard you moving around upstairs last night, dude, I'm not stupid. You were like, e-mailing your friend or whatever even though your mom grounded you," he said.
"Um, no," Spencer said, looking at Brendon like there were lobsters crawling out his ears. "I pretty much don't have a choice but to stick to that kind of thing. I don't want to be grounded for longer than I have to be."
"Probably shouldn't talk back, then," Brendon said, picking up his bowl and drinking the milk, before walking over to the sink and rinsing it out. "I put it in the dishwasher, right?" he asked. Spencer nodded, glaring at him. Brendon put the bowl in then walked out of the room.
***
Brendon was determined to catch Spencer wandering up and down the halls. He just knew that it was happening, because how else would he be hearing footsteps in the hallway? He didn't believe for one second that the house was haunted, just like Spencer didn't. If the Smiths had lived there for ten years and hadn't seen anything, then there was very little likelihood that there was a ghost.
Brendon didn't think any more about it, and that night, when he heard the steps, he scrambled out of bed and stuck his head out in the hallway. Empty. He frowned. Spencer was quicker than he was. He just couldn't understand how Spencer's parents didn't hear it.
He sighed and closed the door again, turning to climb back into the bed. He wasn't prepared to see someone standing in front of the window.
Brendon shrieked. He couldn't help it. The boy didn't seem to hear it, though Brendon was sure that everyone in the house was going to be awake now. He was tall and thin, with dark hair and... what the hell was he wearing? Was that a waistcoat? Seriously?
Behind Brendon, the door opened, and he turned around, looking at Spencer's mother and father standing there, with Spencer and his two little sisters trying to peek over their parents' shoulders to see.
"What's wrong?" Spencer's mother asked. Brendon just stared at them for a moment. Couldn't they see what his problem was? Clearly they were being burgled. He turned around to point and froze.
The boy wasn't there anymore.
"I thought I saw something," Brendon said pathetically.
"Oh honey," Spencer's mother said. "We thought you were hurt. You're all right?"
"Yes," Brendon said, and he could feel the tops of his cheeks heating up and knew that they were turning bright red.
"Good," Spencer's mother said. She turned around. "Everyone back in bed. Go!" She shooed them away from the door before turning back to Brendon. "You should get some sleep." They all walked away from the doorway. Brendon stood there for a moment.
Spencer was the last to walk away from the door, but not before mouthing "freak" at Brendon. Brendon wanted to chase him down and punch him in the nose, but since then he'd probably be out of a place to stay, he decided against it and slunk back into bed.
That night, he dreamt of faceless dark haired boys in old fashioned clothes, and woke up feeling like he hadn't slept in days.
***
"Mom was really unhappy about that," Brendon was saying. Spencer stood just inside the screen door to the back patio, listening while Brendon chattered away on the phone. Okay, so maybe he was a bad person for eavesdropping. He didn't care. "No, she didn't really buy it. I guess because she'd followed me. I mean, she'd seen, right? So like, I couldn't say 'oh, mom, we're just friends' since she'd already seen us."
Spencer raised an eyebrow. That certainly sounded incriminating.
"No, she sent me out here because she thought removing me from the situation would change things," Brendon continued. Spencer wished he could hear both sides of the conversation. "Yeah." A pause. "Yeah. No, those were her exact words. Removing Brendon from the situation. That and I think she wanted me out of the house so that she and dad can have a child free vacation."
Whatever the person on the other end of the line said made the back of Brendon's neck color red. "Oh God," he said then. "I hope not. I'll kill myself. Or something. Maybe not. Can I move out and live with you?" Brendon laughed then. He had a stupid laugh, Spencer thought. Brendon was quiet for a long time, then. Spencer thought about saying something, but just opted to keep his mouth shut.
"No, I mean, if you. If you find someone else. I'm not even going to be back until the end of the summer. Besides, we're not. It wasn't like we were officially dating, so. I'm not going to be like, oh, well, you cheated on me, because I'm not there. I'd want you to do the same, you know? If I wanted to see other people."
Spencer wondered what kind of girl Brendon was seeing that his mother wanted him removed from the situation. And what kind of girl would straight up ask if she could see other people.
"No," Brendon continued. "The only people that I've been around are my aunt and uncle and my cousins, and that's gross." He laughed that stupid laugh again. "What? My cousin? He's a dick, dude. I'm not even kidding right now. Like. A few nights ago he called me a freak because I swear to you, I saw someone in my room, and then I screamed like a bitch. No, no one was there, how could there be someone there?"
Spencer finally cleared his throat, and Brendon turned around, startled looking up at Spencer, almost falling off the stair he was sitting on.
"I gotta go," Brendon said quickly. "Yeah. Yeah. Bye."
"So I'm a dick?" Spencer asked.
"How long were you standing there?" Brendon asked.
"Answer my question first," Spencer said, putting one hand on his hip.
"Yeah, you are," Brendon said, still looking up at Spencer. "You've been a total asshole to me the whole time I've been here, and dude, I didn't do anything to you. Okay? I didn't. I don't know why you have like, this chip on your shoulder or whatever, but if it's because your friend left you here alone for the summer, that is not my fault."
Spencer looked a little startled.
"Now answer my question," Brendon said.
"What question?" Spencer asked, his tone snotty.
"How long were you standing there?" Brendon repeated.
"Long enough to know that like, your mom didn't want you dating whoever you were talking to," Spencer said. "So what kind of girl were you seeing that your mom was all upset and shipped you off for the summer? Lots of tattoos and piercings?"
"Not really any of your business," Brendon said, and pushed past Spencer into the house, clutching his phone tightly in his hand.
***
It was nearly two weeks before Brendon saw anything or heard anything again. Then one afternoon, when Spencer's mother had taken her daughters out and her son had gone off to hang out with the friends that hadn't left him, Brendon saw him again. He was alone in the house, and this time, there wasn't anyone to come running if he screamed.
There he was, the boy in the waistcoat, standing next to the window. Brendon could see, this time, that everything else he was wearing was equally old fashioned.
Then Brendon realized that he could see through the boy.
"Um," he said a little nervously.
The boy turned around, and smiled when he saw Brendon. His pale face was delicate, almost feminine, and his dark hair fell across his forehead.
"You can see me," he said. Brendon nodded. "No one's been able to see me for a long time."
"Uh," Brendon said, now thoroughly freaked out. "That's because you're a ghost, probably."
"Oh, I know," the boy said. "But the people that lived here before your cousin had a little girl that could see me. She slept in this room. But no one that lives here now can."
"Technically I shouldn't even be able to," Brendon said. The boy shrugged.
"But you can," the boy said.
"Um, shouldn't you go toward the light or something? Wouldn't that be better than hanging around here? This place is kind of boring as shit." Brendon continued. The ghost actually looked offended.
"Of course," the ghost said. "Of course. Thank you for enlightening me." Now he just sounded bitter. "I've only been hanging around here for 100 years for my health. I'll go right into that light as soon as I find it."
Brendon looked startled, and the boy faded and disappeared. "I'm sorry!" Brendon called out to the empty room.
He hoped the ghost heard it.
***
A week later, the ghost was sitting on his bed when he walked into the room. To Brendon's credit, he didn't scream, but he did jump. The ghost just looked at him.
"Okay, so who were you? When you were alive," Brendon asked quietly, shutting his bedroom door.
"That's much nicer than what you said to me last time," the ghost said. Brendon shrugged.
"Yeah, well. I'm sorry about last time," Brendon said.
"It's just not that easy, you know?" The ghost blinked at him. He had pretty lips. Brendon couldn't believe that he'd just thought that about a dead person. "I'm Ryan."
"And you're dead," Brendon said.
"Quite," Ryan said. "I actually died right here."
"What?" Brendon asked, almost jumping off the bed.
"Oh, not in this bed, obviously. The family that lived here in the sixties thought it had... what did they say? Bad vibes. They got rid of it," Ryan explained. "But here in this room."
"Like, of old age?" Brendon asked.
"Unfortunately not," Ryan said. He looked a little bit sad, lowering his eyes. The shirt he was wearing looked stiff. Brendon wondered if the clothes he was wearing now were what he'd been buried in. "I took sick. There was nothing the doctor could do."
"I'm sorry," Brendon said, a little shocked.
"I was too weak," Ryan continued. "I'd been sick a few months previously, never recovered."
"Did it hurt?" Brendon asked. "I mean, to die?"
"I went to sleep and didn't wake up," Ryan said. "So I don't know. It hurt a lot, all the coughing, before. Now it doesn't."
"So it really is kind of like it's better," Brendon said.
"I suppose." Brendon watched as the ghost ran his fingers through his hair.
"So why are you stuck here," Brendon asked.
"I don't know," the ghost said. "I wish I did. I'd like to move on. But it's nice to have company. Someone to talk to. I've tried to get Spencer to talk to me quite a lot, but he can't see me or hear me."
"I'm sorry," Brendon said.
"Oh, don't be," Ryan told him. "I just wanted to see if he could figure out a way to make the house let me go."
"Oh," Brendon said. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'd help, if I could. I don't know anything about ghosts, though."
The ghost reached out and touched the back of Brendon's hand. Or rather, stuck his fingers through the back of Brendon's hand. It was like Brendon had stuck his hand in a freezer. He shivered, and Ryan drew back.
"Sorry," Ryan said. "I forget that I can't touch, sometimes."
"You're cold," Brendon said, even though this was probably obvious to Ryan.
"I can't feel it," Ryan said.
"Oh," Brendon said. "Um. So. Is there a way that I can help you?" If he'd already been stuck here for 100 years, it wasn't likely that Brendon was going to be able to help him.
The ghost just shrugged.
"Okay," Brendon said, drawing the word out. "Um. I really don't know what you want me to do, then."
"Talking to me makes me feel better," Ryan said. Brendon couldn't help thinking how gorgeous he must have been when he was living. He didn't mean to think it.
"None of Spencer's family can see you? Really?" Brendon asked.
"No," Ryan said, shaking his head, then reaching up to move his hair off of his forehead. "I'm sorry that I scared you, that first night. I didn't think, I wouldn't have shown up like that, at night."
"I didn't believe Spencer when he said this place was haunted," Brendon blurted out.
"It's not, really. I don't move things around. A lot of the time I just sit here," Ryan said. "So it's not really haunting. I'm not doing anything."
"No offense, but you're a ghost, and you're hanging around. That kind of makes you haunting," Brendon said.
"Even so. I'd leave if I could," Ryan said.
"Me too," Brendon said quietly. Ryan smiled a little bit. "How do I help you?"
"I don't know," Ryan said.
"I mean, did they bury you wrong? Do you have unfinished business?" Brendon asked.
"I suppose I probably do," Ryan said. "Or I did. Everyone I knew is long dead. I have a few blood relatives that still live in this town, but I don't know how that helps anything."
"So what could be your unfinished business?" Brendon asked.
"When I was alive, I --" Ryan was interrupted by the door swinging open.
"Brendon, mom says get off your phone and get downstairs for dinner," Spencer said, before slamming the door back behind him. Brendon could hear him thumping down the stairs, and then he could hear Spencer's mother yelling, even though he couldn't really tell what was being said.
He turned back to Ryan, only to find that the other boy was gone.
***
Brendon was trying to be quiet. He wasn't doing a very good job, because Spencer could still hear him.
"Seriously, though, Spencer like, follows me around when he thinks I'm going to start talking on the phone," Brendon was saying. "The other day, you know when I told you I had to go all fast? He was like, what kind of girl are you dating that your mom has to remove you from the situation? It's not really any of his business."
Spencer decided that he wanted to strangle Brendon.
"No, he's a bitch because his best friend got a trip to Europe as a graduation gift, and he's gone," Brendon was saying. There was a moment of silence, then "ew, Jon, seriously you can't. No, there's no way he ever gets laid. He's like... whatever the guy version of an ice queen is."
Spencer scooted away from the door. So that was why Brendon's mom was so desperate to send him away. He smirked to himself as he walked back to his own room.
***
"So you're gay," Spencer said, one afternoon when Spencer's mother had put the boys to work peeling potatoes for dinner. Brendon almost cut his finger off, and he looked up at Spencer.
"No," Brendon said.
"So the guy you were talking to the other night, Jon," Spencer said, "isn't the same guy you were telling to see other people while you were gone because it wasn't like you were dating or anything?"
"No," Brendon said, and both of them knew it was a lie.
"How upset would you be if your mommy found out that you were still calling your boyfriend back home even though you're not supposed to be having any contact with him?" Spencer asked. Spencer could see red creeping up Brendon's neck. Finally he threw his knife down on the table and chucked the potato into the bowl, splashing Spencer with water before storming out of the room. Spencer would have laughed if he hadn't just gotten water in his eye.
Brendon took the stairs two at a time, walking into his room and slamming the door behind him, locking it. Ryan was sitting on his bed, and he looked up when Brendon came in.
"He's not very nice to you," Ryan said quietly.
“He’s an ass,” Brendon said, flopping down on the bed, sprawled across the foot, his legs dangling down.
“He misses his friend, and he doesn’t know what to do with you here,” Ryan told him, leaning over so that he was looking down at Brendon. It was strange to be able to see the ceiling through Ryan’s face, however faintly.
“Well, he doesn’t have to be a jerk,” Brendon said.
“No, I suppose not,” Ryan said. “He doesn’t want to be your friend because his friend ditched him.”
“But still,” Brendon said. “He could at least not be an asshole.”
“Do you think that your friend that you left behind is that angry?” Ryan asked.
“Who, Jon?” Brendon asked. Ryan nodded. “He. He’s not mad, I don’t think. He can see other people. It’s not like. It’s not like we’re exclusive or whatever. We’re not dating or anything. We were just. Fooling around.”
“What does that mean?” Ryan asked, frowning. He was cute when he was looking all confused. Brendon realized with no small amount of horror that he was starting to develop a crush on a ghost.
“Um. Sex,” Brendon said. He didn’t know how else to explain it.
“Oh,” Ryan said. He didn’t look as shocked as Brendon thought he’d be. “No, I’d imagine your mother wouldn’t like that very much.”
“I know that’s like. I know that’s probably weird to you, or like, wrong. I mean, my mom thinks so, too,” Brendon said. He pushed himself up, almost bumping heads with Ryan, before he realized that couldn’t actually happen. He’d probably get a brain freeze from it, though. “Wrong, I mean. My mom thinks it’s. Like I’ll go to hell.”
“Maybe you’ll just be stuck somewhere,” Ryan said quietly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Brendon started.
“It’s okay,” Ryan said, waving his hand through the air. “My parents probably would have been very unhappy as well. They wanted me to marry very young.”
“Would you have? If you hadn’t gotten sick?” Brendon asked.
“I don’t believe so,” Ryan said, shaking his head.
“You didn’t date, though, right? That long ago people didn’t date,” Brendon said.
“Not like you do, I don’t think,” Ryan told him.
“So like, your parents would pick a girl for you?” Brendon asked.
“If I did not find one of my own, yes,” Ryan told him, nodding his head. “I had no desire to find one of my own, so they would have, eventually.”
“So you were. Was there someone that you … you know, did like?” Brendon asked. This was awkward. How was he having this conversation with a dead person?
“He actually looked quite a lot like Spencer,” Ryan said, turning his face away. “It used to upset me so that Spencer couldn’t see or hear me. Especially as he got older.”
“I’m sorry,” Brendon said, his voice going a little dry. He couldn’t imagine having to see someone everyday that reminded you of someone that you cared about, and not be able to touch them, to talk to them.
“I’ve gotten used to it,” Ryan said, he faded out a little bit, like he was going to leave.
“Ryan?” Brendon said, before he disappeared completely. “Do you think that if I found out what happened to him, you might be able to leave?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said. His voice was faint now.
“Or. What if I got Spencer to see you? Or hear you?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said.
Then he disappeared completely.
***
Brendon spent a large portion of the next three weeks doing research. Spencer looked at him like he was crazy when he mentioned that he wanted to go to the library, but was at least obliging enough to tell Brendon where it was. Spencer does not mentioned the night that they were peeling potatoes or Brendon’s questionable sexuality, either.
Brendon spent very little time talking to Jon on the phone, and a very large amount of time talking to Ryan. Which was sort of silly, because Jon was living and breathing and at least sort of interested in Brendon, whereas Ryan was, well, none of those things. But mostly the living and breathing. He was definitely not living and breathing. There was even one truly memorable time when Ryan had been standing in exactly the wrong spot when Brendon had walked into the room. Brendon had passed through him, and it had taken him nearly an hour to warm back up properly, with Ryan standing next to the bed, wringing his hands and apologizing.
Brendon kind of had a pathetic crush on Ryan. Which was stupid, because Ryan was definitely Not Alive. Brendon had even seen Ryan’s obituary when he’d been looking through microfilms of ancient newspapers. It had made him feel awful. The fact that reading the slides of decaying newspapers was giving him one hell of a headache hadn’t helped either.
So far, however, he hadn’t really made any progress. Ryan had told him the name of the boy that he’d been in love with (James), but Brendon hadn’t been able to find any mention of whether he had married or whether he had died in any of the records. Brendon was almost resigned to looking for elderly people who could have possibly been alive then (he doubted he’d have any luck). He’d had absolutely no luck in getting Spencer to realize that Ryan was there.
Brendon was starting to get frustrated. He sucked at research anyway.
He was absently clicking through microfilms one afternoon, nearly half asleep, when something caught his eye. The man on the page looked vaguely what Spencer’s father looked like, and Brendon actually perked up, thumbing his glasses back into place and squinting to read the caption on the picture.
This was it. This was Ryan’s James, right there. The picture had clearly been an older one, a portrait done when he’d been a much younger man.
And it was his obituary. He’d died a much older man, and from the looks of things, unmarried. Brendon sighed. In his head, he wanted it to be unrequited love, that James had spent the rest of his life pining for his lost love. Then he shook his head. This whole ordeal was clearly turning him into a woman.
He put away all the microfilm and shut down the machine, before picking up his backpack and heading home.
***
Ryan wasn’t there when Brendon got back to his room. He dropped his backpack down on the floor and slipped his shoes off, throwing himself down on the bed. His head was pounding and he was bursting with this new news, that James had never married, but that he’d lived into his sixties, that he’d been successful. Ryan needed to know these things.
Brendon lay there, waiting patiently for all of twenty minutes before he fell asleep.
He dreamt about Ryan. Or at least, he thought it was Ryan, but not Ryan as he knew him. This Ryan, in his dream, had carefully styled hair and was wearing dark denim jeans, a black t-shirt. He was smiling, and it was the same smile, but his face was solid, not transparent.
This Ryan, the Ryan in his dream, was not a ghost.
Brendon woke up with a start. Ryan was sitting on the bed beside him, looking bored. Brendon blinked at him sleepily.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” Ryan said. Brendon sat up abruptly, looking at him.
“Ryan, I found him,” Brendon said. “When I was in the library earlier.”
“Found… James?” Ryan asked, his eyes going wide. His cheeks became more opaque, which Brendon had come to realize meant that he was blushing. It was sort of strange, thinking that a ghost could blush.
“I mean, I didn’t find him, find him,” Brendon said. “But. But he never got married, and I wanted to tell you that. He never got married and he was like, in his sixties when he died. He was an old man.”
“Do you think he was happy?” Ryan asked. His eyes were a little shiny, like he might cry. He blinked a few times, looking away from Brendon for a moment. Brendon wondered if ghosts could cry.
“He was successful. I don’t. I don’t know if that meant that he was happy. He was smiling in the picture,” Brendon explained. Ryan nodded.
“I’m glad that he was happy,” he said, and he started fading out again. The door swung open and Spencer walked in.
“Hey, mom says -“ Spencer cut himself off, staring at Brendon. “Who. How are. Um.”
“You can see him now?” Brendon asked, his eyes wide.
“Is that. He’s not.” Spencer stuttered out.
“I did it!” Brendon said. He grinned at Spencer, who was still looking completely shocked, his face a little pale. Brendon turned to Ryan. “I made him see you!”
“He’s dead,” Spencer said.
“Yes,” Ryan said, at the same time Brendon was saying “well, you told me this place was haunted. Here’s your ghost.” Ryan even raised his hand and waved a little bit.
“I think I need to sit down,” Spencer said, then promptly did so. Ryan walked over and knelt down in front of him. “You can’t be dead.”
“I’m not your Ryan,” said the ghost, looking into Spencer’s eyes. “I’ve seen him, I know that we look alike, but I promise you that I’m not your friend. He’s alive.”
Spencer nodded.
“And after tonight, I won’t be hanging around anymore,” Ryan said. He got back to his feet, turning to Brendon.
“You won’t be hanging around anymore?” Brendon asked. He was a little hurt. He’d been trying to set the ghost free, but he hadn’t actually realized it would work.
“You did it, Brendon,” Ryan said, smiling.
“I don’t want you to leave, though,” Brendon said. This was so pathetic. He really did have a crush on the ghost.
“Things will work out for you,” Ryan said. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Brendon, and Brendon braced himself for the icy feeling of Ryan passing through him. Instead, Ryan hugged him tightly, warm and solid. Brendon’s arms came up and he hugged back.
“Please don’t leave,” Brendon said. Ryan’s hands came up and cupped his face, looking at him seriously. He was solid, living, breathing. Touching Brendon.
“I have to,” Ryan said. “But I promise you that everything will work out for you. I’ll make sure that it does, okay?”
Brendon nodded slightly.
Ryan leaned in. Brendon closed his eyes. Their lips met, just for the briefest of moments, and then Ryan’s arms around Brendon were gone. Ryan’s lips on his were gone. Brendon was left standing there, his eyes still closed, his lips slightly parted.
He opened his eyes after a moment, seeing nothing but Spencer sitting there on the floor. He closed his eyes again, balling his hands into his fists at his sides.
“You kissed a ghost,” Spencer finally said after a long moment.
“No,” Brendon said. “He kissed me.”
Spencer’s mother yelled then, and Brendon smiled, touching his fingers to his lips before stepping around Spencer and hurrying downstairs.
***
“Spencer!”
“What?”
“Get down here! There’s someone here to see you!”
Spencer thudded downstairs. Brendon got up and left his own room, wandering downstairs, just because he was curious. He stopped on the stairwell as Spencer walked into the entryway, then launched himself at a tall, slender boy with carefully styled brown hair. The boy stumbled backward and the two of them almost fell.
“God, I fucking missed you, you have no idea,” Spencer said.
“Spencer!” yelled his mother. “Do not use that language!”
“Sorry mom,” Spencer called, then unwrapped himself from the other boy, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him toward the stairs.
Halfway up they passed Brendon. Spencer’s friend pulled to a stop, his wrist sliding out of Spencer’s hand. He was looking at Brendon.
He was Ryan. There was no doubt about that. Brendon didn’t know if it was reincarnation or just sheer luck, or it was the ghost version of the boy promising that things would work out, but it was him, standing there, living and breathing with the same hair and jeans and t-shirt that he’d had on when Brendon had dreamt about him.
Ryan smiled. “Have I met you before?” he asked.
“Uh,” Brendon said. Then he managed to smile a little bit. “Maybe in a past life.”
“You are so weird,” Spencer said, then grabbed Ryan’s wrist again, pulling him the rest of the way up the stairs.
Ryan watched Brendon over his shoulder as they went.
***
Ryan stayed until late, eating dinner with the family and sitting up late, telling Spencer everything about his trip to Europe. Brendon sulked around his room, tried calling Jon twice and didn’t leave a voicemail either time.
He was laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling when someone knocked lightly on the door.
“Come in,” he called out, pushing himself up, expecting to see Spencer or his mother standing there. It wasn’t either of them. Ryan pushed the door open and stuck his head in.
“Hey,” he said quietly, and Brendon was sure that he looked totally shocked. “Um. I wanted to talk to you. I mean, I know Spencer thinks you’re weird or whatever, but I…” Ryan shrugged, walking inside. He moved the same as the ghost, and Brendon bit his lip. “I’ve seen you before. I swear.”
“You can’t have,” Brendon said. “I haven’t even seen Spencer since we were like, six. There’s no way.”
“And yet,” Ryan said, shrugging his shoulders and moving to sit down on the end of the bed. Brendon just stared at him, his cell phone clutched tightly in his fingers.
“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m crazy,” Brendon said. His eyes were wide and scared and he bit his lip as he stared at Ryan. Ryan looked down at the quilt on the bed, then back up at Brendon.
“Try me,” Ryan said.
“Um,” Brendon said, a little breathlessly and his voice on the verge of hysterics. “Um. Has Spencer ever told you that this house is supposed to be haunted?”
“Of course,” Ryan said. “He told me that the first time I spent the night, trying to scare me. He was a mean little kid. Still is. Mean, that is. Not little. Well, little too. So maybe not a kid. I’m going to shut up. Go on.”
“Anyway, he told me it was haunted when I got here, but he’d never seen a ghost, so. So I just thought,” Brendon said. He fluttered his hand absently through the air. “Anyway, so I. Well, I saw one. And I screamed like a bitch and Spencer teased me about it for days. But I saw a ghost.”
“Okay,” Ryan said, and now he sounded skeptical, like he didn’t believe Brendon for one second.
“Anyway, there was a ghost and apparently only certain people can see him, and he was lonely and he looked like you,” Brendon blurted out. “And maybe I could see him ‘cause I was lonely too, or… or maybe I’m just special, and anyway we were talking and there was this boy he loved but he’d died - Ryan. No the ghost, I mean, his name was Ryan, too, like he was you, only kind of old-timey and… dead.”
“Uh huh,” Ryan said. He looked a little surprised.
“Anyway, he’d died and he was stuck here as a ghost because he had unfinished business or because he needed to find out what had happened to his one true love, and so I found it, this guy James, and I came back here and told him and Spencer came in and saw him and it was all very romantic - Spencer’s the guy, you know? Like, reincarnated or something, I don’t know. And then he disappeared.”
Brendon left out all the parts about how the ghost had become solid, about how Brendon had been in love with him and how beautiful he was. How beautiful this living, breathing Ryan was.
“Very romantic,” Ryan said absently.
“Well, that he got to move on because he found out what happened to his lover,” Brendon said. He insisted on being stubborn about it. “It is romantic.”
“Spencer didn’t say anything about this,” Ryan said.
“Spencer pretends it didn’t happen, but he did. All that ghost wanted was to know what had happened to his James. And for Spencer to see him, because I swear to you, the guy looked just like Spencer, too,” Brendon said. “And like, Spencer repressed it or whatever. It’s too weird and not… not practical enough for him.”
“I notice that you didn’t tell him about the part where you were in love with the ghost,” Spencer said, his voice bitter, cold and hard, standing in the doorway and looking almost hurt that his best friend who had just gotten home from Europe was sitting in here listening to his crazy cousin.
“Because that’s none of his business,” Brendon snapped back. Ryan just looked back and forth between them, helpless. He didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever was going on between Brendon and Spencer.
“Oh of course,” Spencer said. “He kissed the ghost, Ryan. I watched him do it. He’s got some boyfriend that he calls and chats with and gossips about me with, too.”
“He is not my boyfriend,” Brendon said, glaring at Spencer.
“No? Then what is he?” Spencer asked.
“He’s just. A friend,” Brendon said.
“A friend that you were telling to go ahead and see other people while you were here, because you weren’t dating, right? So does that make him something else? Just someone you fool around with?”
“Does it matter?” Ryan said, turning around and looking at Spencer.
“What?” Spencer asked.
“Does it matter who he talks to?” Ryan asked, his voice quiet. It was a little strange, how his voice seemed to have no inflection at all. “I mean. He’s not trying to steal your girlfriend, so. What’s the problem?”
“He’s-“ Spencer started, then stopped abruptly. He looked at Ryan seriously, like he expected Ryan to just figure out what he was thinking.
“Please don’t say that it’s because whoever-it-is is a guy, Spence,” Ryan said, his voice going even more quiet. “Please don’t.”
“Ryan, you know I -“ Spencer started.
“Just shut up,” Ryan said bitterly, and Brendon was a little startled. He got up off the bed and walked to the door. “If you weren’t my best friend, Spencer, I’d punch you in the face.” As it was, Ryan shoved him out of the way, sending Spencer stumbling and grabbing the doorway to keep from falling, and stormed out of the house. They both flinched when they heard the door slam.
“God dammit,” Spencer muttered, and walked out of Brendon’s room.
Brendon flinched when Spencer slammed the door.
***
Brendon was sitting on the front porch swing, reading a book, when Ryan showed up the next day.
“Spencer’s not here,” Brendon said, not looking up from his book. It was summer reading, and now the summer was almost over and he hadn’t finished it yet. Of course, he hadn’t really tried, either, because the truth was the book was boring.
“I know,” Ryan said. He walked over to the swing and waited for Brendon to move his legs so that he could sit down. Brendon shifted, and Ryan sat beside him. He was quiet for a while, swinging them slowly back and forth.
“So why are you here,” Brendon finally said, dog-earing the page he was on and closing the book.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Ryan said.
“Except, you’re just sitting here, not talking,” Brendon helpfully pointed out.
“Look, Spencer. He’s. I love him to bits and pieces but sometimes I want to choke him out because he’s so freaked out about this one time and I’ve told him over and over that it’s no big deal and if he doesn’t like guys then he doesn’t like guys, he doesn’t have to be a dick to people about it,” Ryan said. He looked surprised then, not having meant to say everything all at once like that.
“So what are you saying, exactly?” Brendon said, his voice unsure.
“It was just one time, we don’t talk about it, and he has a girlfriend so it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” Ryan was looking at him seriously. “I just think that you talking to that guy like that, or… or kissing that ghost - did that really happen? Anyway, that makes him think about it, and he doesn’t like it. Or he does like it, and that makes him cranky.”
“So you and Spencer like. What? Made out?” Brendon asked.
“Is that all you got out of everything I just said?” Ryan asked.
“A lot of words, not much point,” Brendon said. Ryan shoved him hard, faking anger, but he was laughing. Ryan had a pretty smile. They were quiet for a moment, Ryan slouching down on the swing and putting his feet against the railing, pushing them back and forth with his head on Brendon’s shoulder. He had really long legs, Brendon noticed, and they were crammed into women’s jeans, Brendon also noticed.
“Did you really have a crush on the ghost?” Ryan said after a long moment.
“He was nice,” Brendon said. “I mean. I don’t know. He was gorgeous and nice and just. And… and he was dead, so that doesn’t do me any good.”
“He looked like me, though,” Ryan said quietly.
“Yeah,” Brendon said, and his cheeks flushed pink then. It was good that Ryan wasn’t looking at him.
“So you think I’m… gorgeous?” Ryan asked.
“I guess so,” Brendon said. Ryan was quiet for another long moment, just swinging them back and forth. Brendon’s feet didn’t quite touch the ground.
“When I was in Europe,” Ryan said, his voice quiet. “I had this dream. About this boy. With dark hair and dark eyes and … and … “ Brendon waited, listening to Ryan breathing while he tried to figure out the right words. “About you,” Ryan finally finished. Brendon noticed that he held his breath once the words were out.
“I dreamt about you, too,” Brendon finally murmured, leaning his head over, resting his cheek against the top of Ryan’s head.
“Really?” Ryan asked. Brendon nodded, knowing that Ryan would be able to feel the motion against the top of his head.
They were quiet again, until Brendon shifted, slid his arm around Ryan and let him shift in to fill the space, closer to Brendon. Ryan rested his hand against Brendon’s thigh.
“This must be what he meant,” Brendon breathed after a long moment.
“What?” Ryan asked. He sounded sleepy, and Brendon realized then that they’d slowly stopped being pushed back and forth.
“Before he disappeared, he told me everything was going to work out,” Brendon said. Ryan nodded a little bit. “I’m going to choose to believe that this is what he meant.
“And what is this?” Ryan asked. He shifted around, dropping his feet from the porch railing and leaving them stretched out in front of them.
“You,” Brendon said. “Being here. If Spencer hadn’t been bitching about how you were gone all summer, I’d think that I dreamt you into existence.”
“I’m real, though,” Ryan said. “And not a ghost.”
“No,” Brendon said, smiling a little bit. “You’re not.”
***
Brendon wasn’t pleased to have to go back home a few weeks later. Even though he’d learned that Ryan was actually going to college only a couple of hours away from where he lived, Brendon was still upset by it. Ryan was perfect! They were in love if anyone asked.
Ryan rolled his eyes when Brendon flailed around dramatically, sitting on the back stairs while Brendon declared dramatically that he was going to die without Ryan. And that Ryan was going to have to kiss him one last time before he expired there in the grass. Ryan didn’t move. Brendon pretended to die.
Brendon cracked one eye open to see Ryan leaning over him.
“You know, I’ve only known you a couple of weeks,” Ryan informed him. “There’s no way you like me that much.”
“Wrong,” Brendon said, pushing himself up just enough to be able to push his lips up against Ryan’s. Ryan kissed him for a moment before flopping back onto his butt on the grass, looking at Brendon seriously. “I’ve known you all summer. You just didn’t know it.”
“That makes you sound like a stalker,” Ryan said.
“I have loved you from your past life,” Brendon said. “When you were transparent and dressed funny.”
“He still dresses funny,” Spencer said, walking out onto the porch. Brendon frowned at him. Ryan looked up and flipped Spencer off. Spencer just laughed. “Mom says you need to be ready to go in about twenty minutes.”
“No,” Brendon moaned. Ryan sighed and leaned down, kissing him softly.
“I’ll go with you, okay?” Ryan said. Brendon nodded. They kissed again. Spencer made gagging noises and they heard them go back into the house.
“You can’t kiss me in front of Spencer’s mom,” Brendon said. “She’ll tell my mom. I know she will.”
“I won’t. I’ll sneak off and kiss you in the bathroom or something. Your mom can’t follow us into the bathroom,” Ryan said. “Or I’ll figure out a way to tell you goodbye. You know. I’ll see you again in like, two weeks though. I’m getting to school the weekend before. You could drive up and meet me.”
“You’re assuming that my mom will let me drive up,” Brendon said.
“Hey, you told me that he said everything would work out. And it will,” Ryan said. He leaned down and kissed Brendon once more, then pushed himself to his feet, pulling Brendon up as well, and they walked back in the house.
***
“Mom,” Brendon said, bouncing into the kitchen and leaning up against the counter. His mother turned around and looked at him, her hands still stirring the spaghetti sauce for dinner. Brendon looked over into the pot. “Does that have meat in it? Because I’ve told you over and over I’m -“
“Brendon, you’ll eat it or you’ll cook your own dinner,” she told him, staring him down. He shrank back, wrinkling up his nose. “Now, what do you want?”
“Can I go up and hang out with Ryan this weekend?” he asked.
“You went up last weekend.”
“So?”
“Do you have money for gas? Is he going to get tired of you coming up to visit him? You won’t go to any parties, will you?”
“Is that a yes?” Brendon asked. His mother stared at him. “Yes, I have money for gas. No, he’s not going to get tired of me coming to visit him. I already talked to him anyway. And Ryan doesn’t drink, so I don’t think that you have to worry about him taking me to some wild college party.”
“Promise me, Brendon. If you come home on Sunday and you’ve spent Saturday night partying, I’m going to know,” she told him.
“I promise, mom,” Brendon said.
“Then you can go. How do you keep managing to get the weekends off?” she asked.
“I don’t. I have to work tomorrow morning, so I’ll go up when I get off work,” Brendon explained.
“All right,” she said.
“I’m still trying to be a vegetarian, mom,” Brendon said seriously.
“You’re still not getting any dinner that you don’t cook yourself if you don’t eat what I fix. Meat and all,” she told him.
Brendon made a horrible face and left the kitchen.
***
Brendon still had on his work uniform when he drove the van onto the college campus. He managed to maneuver it into one of the guest parking spaces. The sun was starting to set and he could see Ryan sitting on one of the benches in front of the dorm, the hood of his hoodie pulled up, his arms wrapped around his chest.
Brendon slid out of the van and punched the lock button. Sure, it was embarrassing to be driving his parents’ old van, but it was a vehicle, and it got him from one place to another and it let him drive up to see Ryan on the weekends.
He walked up the sidewalk to where Ryan was sitting, watching Ryan’s mouth twist into a smile, teeth bared when Brendon appeared.
“Hey,” Brendon said, but didn’t dare wrap his arms around Ryan or kiss him hello like he wanted to. Ryan’s sweatshirt was swallowing him whole, and his fingers were cold when he reached out and touched the back of Brendon’s hand.
“Let’s go,” he said. They walked inside, and Ryan signed in that he was going to have a guest that night, and they headed upstairs.
Ryan was lucky enough that his roommate went home nearly every weekend, and that he and Brendon were slight enough to fit together on a twin bed. Brendon wasn’t sure how the roommate put up with Ryan, since that side of the room was always neat and tidy, and Ryan’s side was covered in books and clothes and discarded papers.
Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Brendon was able to wrap his arms around Ryan, slid his hands up underneath the hoodie to touch bare skin, and kissed Ryan like he meant it. He could feel Ryan smiling against his mouth.
“See,” Ryan said. “I told you everything would work out.”