Remaining Relevant .:Twelve:.
Title: Remaining Relevant .:Twelve:.
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R
Pairing: Ghost!Brendon/Blind!Ryan, various others mentioned
POV: Third
Summary: Sequel to Heedless in Rain. Brendon’s dead, he’s lost his love, his friends can’t seem to move on. And what happens when the psychopathic murderer who killed him shows up again?
Chapter Summary: “Are you asking me how many people have died? Because I’ve lost count.”
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.
-Prologue- [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]
Chapter Twelve
“Quite being so damn mopey,” Greta says, dropping into her seat and slamming her empty coffee cup down on the table to make a point. “It’s not good for you.”
Gabe rolls his eyes. “I’m not being mopey. I’m mourning.”
Greta quirks an eyebrow. “In that case, move the fuck on.”
“Easier said than done,” Gabe argues. “Just because you’re able to let go so easily--”
“Are you implying that I didn’t love her?” Greta shakes her head, leans forward to take one of Gabe’s hands in hers. She strokes a thumb across his knuckles when he sighs. “Gabe, I did love her, and I’m still incredibly upset. I still miss her. But I promised myself that her funeral would be the last time I cried for her, because that’s what she’d want. For me to get on with my life.”
Gabe makes a muffled ‘hmph’ sound and sinks lower in his seat. Greta kicks at him under the table. “That’s what Will would want for you too, you know.”
“No he wouldn’t,” Gabe says, smiling just a little despite himself. “That cocky motherfucker would want me to stay hung up on him forever.” His smile quickly falls though, as he considers her words. He adds, in all seriousness, “I’ll give the happy thing a shot, but I’m making no promises.”
Greta laughs, shakes her hair out as she lets go of Gabe’s hand and stands up. “My break‘s over,” she says, smoothes out her apron. “I’ll come to your place when I get off and we’ll get trashed, k?” She winks at him, skips off without waiting for an answer.
Gabe lets himself smile after her, does his best not to think of William on the walk home.
-
Jon stands outside the apartment door for a long fucking time. All the reason’s he shouldn’t go in are running through his head at breakneck speed. Ryan could very easily hurt him. It’s raining outside, has been for a couple hours. The ghost is going to be solid. Probably bitchy, too. But… Jon can handle bitchy. He’s in love with Spencer Smith, after all.
He shakes his head at himself. Now he’s just stalling. He should just do this, get it over with. He can’t not. His mother raised him to thank people when they deserve it. And Ryan definitely deserves a thank you, for helping to save Spencer. Jon isn’t sure what he’d do if Spencer had been harmed. Something drastic and fatal, probably.
With one last deep breath, Jon curls his fingers around the brass doorknob and turns, earning a squeak as the rusty hinges swing the door open.
There’s no immediate sign of Ryan. The place looks empty. Or, well. It actually doesn’t. It looks like someone still lives there, signs of Brendon’s life are everywhere. It doesn’t feel lived in though. It feels hollow and lonely and cold. Unpleasant, if Jon had to pick a word to sum it up.
“Oh, Jon,” Ryan says, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Jon turns on his heel, sees Ryan standing at the hallway entrance with a hand on one hip and a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t sound pissed off, though, just curious. “I came to say… thanks,” Jon mumbles, scratching at the back of his neck and shrugging. “For saving Spence. So, uh. Thanks.”
“Whatever. You didn’t have to come thank me, anyone would’ve done the same thing.”
“Well, yeah. I just didn’t expect you to…” Jon trails off at Ryan’s look, clears his throat. “What I mean is--”
“No, no,” Ryan waves a hand about, dismissing the rest of Jon’s sentence. “I get it. You didn’t expect me to lift a finger to save Spencer’s life because I’m a heartless ghost who cares nothing about anyone else and gets his kicks from hurting innocent people. Yeah, okay.” He crosses his arms over his chest, leans his shoulder against the wall. Jon couldn’t decipher Ryan’s expression to save his own life. His monotone isn’t helping, either.
Jon runs a hand through his hair, shifts his weight from foot to foot anxiously. “Um… no. That’s not it. I… I don’t think you’re Gerard”
Ryan laughs. It sounds genuine enough, so Jon smiles uneasily in return. Ryan’s bangs fall into his eyes as he shakes his head. “I’m not like that, alright? Spencer’s a nice guy. I wouldn’t have just stood by and done nothing. I’m not cruel. Harsh sometimes, maybe, but.” He shrugs.
Jon hums. “That’s… that’s good.” He thinks about leaving. He’s said thank you, so he should go, right? But he doesn’t move. Something tells him Ryan has more to say.
Ryan nods, pushes himself off the wall and makes his way toward the sofa. Jon follows, hesitates for only a second before he sits down next to the ghost. Ryan switches on the TV, permanently affixed to the weather channel. “How’s Hobo?” he asks once Jon has settled, giving the man another indecipherable look.
“Oh, good. Spencer spoils her. It’s cute.”
“And how is… everyone else? Gerard… things couldn’t be going very good with him still around.”
“Are you asking me how many people have died? Because I’ve lost count.”
“That bad, huh?” Ryan bites his lip, pushes his hair out of his eyes. “I wish there was something I could do.” The sincerity of this statement surprises Jon.
“Why? You don’t know anyone in town.”
“I know Gabe,” Ryan argues. “And Frank, and Spencer, and I knew…” he trails off, awkwardly shifts, tucks his feet up underneath himself. “The point is, just because I don’t know most of them, doesn’t mean I don’t care about them. A life is a life, either way.”
“I guess you’re right,” Jon admits. “I’m really worried about Ryan. He’s blind. It’d be so easy for Gerard to take advantage of that.”
“Ryan? Who‘s that?”
“He moved here a couple months ago with his Dad. The way I understand it, he’s your grandson.”
-
“You’re an idiot,” Frank snorts, giggling his ass off.
Brendon glares, props himself up on his elbows so he can look down at his friend, hoping it makes him seem a little more menacing. “Shut up. Don’t you think I know that? Geez, Frankie. Try to be just a bit more unhelpful, would you?”
“Alright, alright,” Frank grumbles, tugging Brendon back down by his arm. “Don’t get pissy on me. But, come on. What possessed you to speak to him in the first place? You had to know how this was going to end.” He waves his hands about. “You’ve already been through this once, Brendon. Seriously.”
“Okay, yeah. But I was the human last time. It was… different. Ryan couldn’t leave me because he was a ghost. It was kind of all up to me, and now it’s not and I’m freaking out a little.” Evidence of Brendon’s freaking out can be found in the way he won’t stop chewing his lip and wringing his hands. He can’t figure out when he got so damn attached.
“That’s understandable.” Frank flips over onto his stomach, pillows his head on his arms and blinks at Brendon for a minute, until Brendon turns to look at him. “He’d have died eventually anyway,” he says, meeting Brendon’s gaze to convey the seriousness of this statement. “And unless you wanted him to die young and tragically, he would’ve gotten old. Too old for you. He would’ve moved on.”
“That’s depressing.”
Frank giggles again. “Yeah, it kind of is.”
Brendon swats Frank on the shoulder, and at least that’s one thing he did right. He saved Frank’s life. He wouldn’t take that back even if it meant he could be real again.
-
An- Hm. Nothing to say today, actually. Except thank you. I haven’t been answering all of the comments and I’m sorry. I’m going to try and be less lazy from now on x)
♥
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R
Pairing: Ghost!Brendon/Blind!Ryan, various others mentioned
POV: Third
Summary: Sequel to Heedless in Rain. Brendon’s dead, he’s lost his love, his friends can’t seem to move on. And what happens when the psychopathic murderer who killed him shows up again?
Chapter Summary: “Are you asking me how many people have died? Because I’ve lost count.”
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.
-Prologue- [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]
Chapter Twelve
“Quite being so damn mopey,” Greta says, dropping into her seat and slamming her empty coffee cup down on the table to make a point. “It’s not good for you.”
Gabe rolls his eyes. “I’m not being mopey. I’m mourning.”
Greta quirks an eyebrow. “In that case, move the fuck on.”
“Easier said than done,” Gabe argues. “Just because you’re able to let go so easily--”
“Are you implying that I didn’t love her?” Greta shakes her head, leans forward to take one of Gabe’s hands in hers. She strokes a thumb across his knuckles when he sighs. “Gabe, I did love her, and I’m still incredibly upset. I still miss her. But I promised myself that her funeral would be the last time I cried for her, because that’s what she’d want. For me to get on with my life.”
Gabe makes a muffled ‘hmph’ sound and sinks lower in his seat. Greta kicks at him under the table. “That’s what Will would want for you too, you know.”
“No he wouldn’t,” Gabe says, smiling just a little despite himself. “That cocky motherfucker would want me to stay hung up on him forever.” His smile quickly falls though, as he considers her words. He adds, in all seriousness, “I’ll give the happy thing a shot, but I’m making no promises.”
Greta laughs, shakes her hair out as she lets go of Gabe’s hand and stands up. “My break‘s over,” she says, smoothes out her apron. “I’ll come to your place when I get off and we’ll get trashed, k?” She winks at him, skips off without waiting for an answer.
Gabe lets himself smile after her, does his best not to think of William on the walk home.
-
Jon stands outside the apartment door for a long fucking time. All the reason’s he shouldn’t go in are running through his head at breakneck speed. Ryan could very easily hurt him. It’s raining outside, has been for a couple hours. The ghost is going to be solid. Probably bitchy, too. But… Jon can handle bitchy. He’s in love with Spencer Smith, after all.
He shakes his head at himself. Now he’s just stalling. He should just do this, get it over with. He can’t not. His mother raised him to thank people when they deserve it. And Ryan definitely deserves a thank you, for helping to save Spencer. Jon isn’t sure what he’d do if Spencer had been harmed. Something drastic and fatal, probably.
With one last deep breath, Jon curls his fingers around the brass doorknob and turns, earning a squeak as the rusty hinges swing the door open.
There’s no immediate sign of Ryan. The place looks empty. Or, well. It actually doesn’t. It looks like someone still lives there, signs of Brendon’s life are everywhere. It doesn’t feel lived in though. It feels hollow and lonely and cold. Unpleasant, if Jon had to pick a word to sum it up.
“Oh, Jon,” Ryan says, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Jon turns on his heel, sees Ryan standing at the hallway entrance with a hand on one hip and a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t sound pissed off, though, just curious. “I came to say… thanks,” Jon mumbles, scratching at the back of his neck and shrugging. “For saving Spence. So, uh. Thanks.”
“Whatever. You didn’t have to come thank me, anyone would’ve done the same thing.”
“Well, yeah. I just didn’t expect you to…” Jon trails off at Ryan’s look, clears his throat. “What I mean is--”
“No, no,” Ryan waves a hand about, dismissing the rest of Jon’s sentence. “I get it. You didn’t expect me to lift a finger to save Spencer’s life because I’m a heartless ghost who cares nothing about anyone else and gets his kicks from hurting innocent people. Yeah, okay.” He crosses his arms over his chest, leans his shoulder against the wall. Jon couldn’t decipher Ryan’s expression to save his own life. His monotone isn’t helping, either.
Jon runs a hand through his hair, shifts his weight from foot to foot anxiously. “Um… no. That’s not it. I… I don’t think you’re Gerard”
Ryan laughs. It sounds genuine enough, so Jon smiles uneasily in return. Ryan’s bangs fall into his eyes as he shakes his head. “I’m not like that, alright? Spencer’s a nice guy. I wouldn’t have just stood by and done nothing. I’m not cruel. Harsh sometimes, maybe, but.” He shrugs.
Jon hums. “That’s… that’s good.” He thinks about leaving. He’s said thank you, so he should go, right? But he doesn’t move. Something tells him Ryan has more to say.
Ryan nods, pushes himself off the wall and makes his way toward the sofa. Jon follows, hesitates for only a second before he sits down next to the ghost. Ryan switches on the TV, permanently affixed to the weather channel. “How’s Hobo?” he asks once Jon has settled, giving the man another indecipherable look.
“Oh, good. Spencer spoils her. It’s cute.”
“And how is… everyone else? Gerard… things couldn’t be going very good with him still around.”
“Are you asking me how many people have died? Because I’ve lost count.”
“That bad, huh?” Ryan bites his lip, pushes his hair out of his eyes. “I wish there was something I could do.” The sincerity of this statement surprises Jon.
“Why? You don’t know anyone in town.”
“I know Gabe,” Ryan argues. “And Frank, and Spencer, and I knew…” he trails off, awkwardly shifts, tucks his feet up underneath himself. “The point is, just because I don’t know most of them, doesn’t mean I don’t care about them. A life is a life, either way.”
“I guess you’re right,” Jon admits. “I’m really worried about Ryan. He’s blind. It’d be so easy for Gerard to take advantage of that.”
“Ryan? Who‘s that?”
“He moved here a couple months ago with his Dad. The way I understand it, he’s your grandson.”
-
“You’re an idiot,” Frank snorts, giggling his ass off.
Brendon glares, props himself up on his elbows so he can look down at his friend, hoping it makes him seem a little more menacing. “Shut up. Don’t you think I know that? Geez, Frankie. Try to be just a bit more unhelpful, would you?”
“Alright, alright,” Frank grumbles, tugging Brendon back down by his arm. “Don’t get pissy on me. But, come on. What possessed you to speak to him in the first place? You had to know how this was going to end.” He waves his hands about. “You’ve already been through this once, Brendon. Seriously.”
“Okay, yeah. But I was the human last time. It was… different. Ryan couldn’t leave me because he was a ghost. It was kind of all up to me, and now it’s not and I’m freaking out a little.” Evidence of Brendon’s freaking out can be found in the way he won’t stop chewing his lip and wringing his hands. He can’t figure out when he got so damn attached.
“That’s understandable.” Frank flips over onto his stomach, pillows his head on his arms and blinks at Brendon for a minute, until Brendon turns to look at him. “He’d have died eventually anyway,” he says, meeting Brendon’s gaze to convey the seriousness of this statement. “And unless you wanted him to die young and tragically, he would’ve gotten old. Too old for you. He would’ve moved on.”
“That’s depressing.”
Frank giggles again. “Yeah, it kind of is.”
Brendon swats Frank on the shoulder, and at least that’s one thing he did right. He saved Frank’s life. He wouldn’t take that back even if it meant he could be real again.
-
An- Hm. Nothing to say today, actually. Except thank you. I haven’t been answering all of the comments and I’m sorry. I’m going to try and be less lazy from now on x)
♥