Echoes

[creepylicious]

THREE
The life of Chad Warwick

~1~
Ghost wasn't ever trying to find the things that don't belonged to the world as other people saw it. They always found him. And to be honest, Ghost wasn't so sure they didn't have a right to stay in a world where they belonged before. Maybe they still belonged. He didn't think about it much. There wasn't a real answer to it anyway.
He crossed the street and stepped in front of the iron gate. A sign said 'For sale' in big green letters. He felt a chill as he touched the iron. He curled his fingers around the fence anyway. It wasn't really bad. Something evil was there, or maybe more than one thing, but as long as he stayed here, he was safe.

“I hope you don't want to buy it,” the man said. He was slim, but big and his hair was dark as the night. His clothes looked expensive. It was like looking at your opposite Ghost thought.

He shook his head and said “No”.

“You don't look like a buyer either,” the man said.

“No one should live here,” Ghost whispered.

“It's not for you to decide that,” the man answered, but he didn't seem angry. Ghost looked over the man's shoulder at the house. There were shapes in the windows. One big and nearly solid. Watching them. The man cocked his head in curiosity and then turned to look back at the house too. “Oh, that's Patrick,” he said.

“Your friend.”

The man laughed, fumbling for a cigarette and lighting it. He took a deep drag and exhaled slowly. “Not anymore, no.”

Ghost was still looking at the man in the window. “I'm sorry,” he said eventually.

“What for?” the man asked, inhaling sharply.

“That you're stuck here with someone who doesn't love you anymore like you want him to,” Ghost said and then bit his lip, because people didn't always want to hear these things. Even dead people didn't want to hear these things. Especially dead people. Maybe. He wasn't sure.

The man exhaled another lungful of smoke. He sighed. “Yeah, I'm sorry too.” He sounded resigned. Ghost let his fingers slip on the bars and touched them tentatively to the man's hand that wasn't holding the cigarette. There was a flash of all the things the man wanted. How he tried to fix the relationship after they got the house, after the house got to them. The times when they were house-less but happy in a crappy apartment with a Russian hooker living next door who baked them delicious cookies when she couldn't sleep. The man jerked away and panted.

“I'm sorry,” Ghost said, stepping out of his reach.

The man laughed shakily. “I forgot all of that. I forgot as soon as we started working on the house. And everything went to shit. I swear. And I tried, but I just didn't see it coming.”

“No one did,” Ghost answered, because he knew that people always find other explanations for the things that go bump in the night. And it was okay to do that, but sometimes it led to death and decay and tragedy and losing everything. To being stuck in a house forever.

“You should go back to where you're coming from. The house might want you,” the man, Chad, said.

“I can never escape the things that want my attention badly enough,” Ghost answered.
Chad flipped his butt on the pavement outside. It landed a few feet away from Ghost. He curled his hands around the bars of the fence and just looked outside. Like he could will the outside to see him too.

“The things that want your attention,” Chad murmured.

Ghost took another step back. Chad looked at him and smiled. “I'll be back,” Ghost said and Chad nodded.

~+~
Gerard was balancing a croissant and two cups of coffee in his hand while Mikey waited in the car. He wanted a sip so badly, but no way could he drink without dropping the pastry bag, coffee or croissant. He reached the car and Mikey grinned at him as he put the bag on the hood of it. He grabbed the coffee Gerard offered and took a deep sip. Gerard did the same. They drank in silence for a few minutes. Just sipping the blessed liquid. Gerard was sometimes entertaining lyrics about coffee in his head. If Frank could write about a goldfish, Gerard certainly could write about coffee and how it would save the world.
Mikey leaned back in the seat, his long legs stretched on the asphalt and smiled. He looked relaxed and like he was sleeping fine. Gerard didn't think about what Pete and his baby brother were up to last night that made Mikey so languid.

“There is a murder house here,” Mikey said out of the blue.

Gerard leaned his hip against the car and looked down at him. “A murder house?”

“I googled it last night too, here,” he got out his phone, touched the screen and handed it over to Gerard. Gerard began to read and with every passing line he knew he had to see it at least. “It's up for sale,” Mikey added.

Gerard gave him the phone back. “For sale? Who would want to live in a house like that? I mean if even half of the stuff written on the page were true, you'd have to be insane to buy it. All the previous owners died horrible deaths. The man who hung himself on the chandelier because his wife died in childbirth? That is pretty horrible.”

“And all the missing persons?” Mikey said, but he was smiling. He knew of course that Gerard would at least check it out. “We could just walk by, you know?” he added.

“I hate that you know me so well,” Gerard mumbled into his coffee.

“Hand over the Danish and get in the car,” Mikey answered and Gerard did.

~2~
Steve gave him a look when he came back and then handed over a cup of tea. He sighed, sat down and got his guitar out. While Ghost sipped his tea, something fruity and red, Steve played a few songs Ghost didn't recognize. They weren't their own.

Eventually Steve put the guitar aside and looked at Ghost. “So, what did you find while you were taking a walk? Or what found you?” he corrected.
Ghost clutched his mug, now lukewarm, and looked outside the small window. It showed a brick-wall, but he didn't let Steve close the curtains. The bit of sunshine was better than nothing.

“A house,” Ghost said after a while. Steve was drumming his fingers on his thigh, waiting Ghost out. “You remember the house on Violin Road?”
Steve nodded, but didn't look at him. Ghost knew why, the house on Violin Road gave Steve the chills. To be honest the house gave everyone the freaking chills and still, kids dared each other to go inside.

“Yeah,” Steve said after a long silence. “Is it like this?”

“The house, yes. The people living there, no.” Ghost put the mug on the small table he was sitting close to and closed his eyes.

“The people?” Steve asked.

“The people trapped there. I talked to one of the owners of the house. Former owners. He-” Ghost bit his lip. He didn't know how much he should tell Steve without breaking the trust Chad put in him and without freaking Steve out completely.

“He is dead,” Steve finished the sentence and Ghost nodded. It was one way to finish a sentence like that. “And you talked to him.”

“Yes. I talked to him. He isn't evil or anything. He is just trapped in a house with other souls and-”
Steve sighed and got up, he crossed the small hotel room to stand at the window. It was the furthest he could be away from where Ghost was sitting. That wasn't ever a good sign. “Look Steve-”

“No,” Steve said. It was so final that Ghost didn't even know how to respond to it for a moment.

“I can't be anyone else,” Ghost sad softly and watched Steve ball his hands to fists at his side.

“You don't even try,” Steve got out.

Ghost didn't, because he didn't think there was anything wrong with the way he was. “I do not.”

“I wish you were a normal person, Ghost. God I really wish that more and more often these days.”

“I can't be what you want me to be,” Ghost answered and he didn't know if Steve got the full meaning of it, but it didn't matter anyway. Ghost could never be anything than what he was.

“Are you going back to that house?” Steve asked after an eternity of silence.

“Yeah,” Ghost answered.
Steve nodded.

~+~
Gerard was running his hand over the iron-gate like following someone's footsteps. It was pretty messed up. He was sure a lot of people touched the gate over the years. He glanced at the 'For sale' sign and then away and at the house. Mikey was a solid presence beside him exhaling smoke.

“It doesn't look like it's haunted,” Gerard said.

“If it would people wouldn't want to live there, Gee.” Gerard turned his head and gave his brother a look. Mikey smiled. “Except you and Neil Gaiman maybe,” he added.

“I bet Grant would too. It has just the right,” Gerard waved his hand in a nondescript way and settled on “something to get your creative juices going, you know?”

“Maybe yours, Gee, maybe Grant's, maybe fucking Neil Gaiman's and I think it's safe to say Burrton's as well, but you guys are kind of insane. Haunted houses freak normal people out.” Mikey looked at the house and then away. Gerard leaned into him. He didn't want to, but he sometimes just forgot how freaked out the Paramour made Mikey. Even now. Just remembering it made Mikey pull inside himself. The horrors of the house. Real or imagined, but honestly what difference did it make? The sleepless nights, the fighting, the walls whispering in his head. They whispered to Gerard too, but it didn't affect Gerard that way. It hadn't made him want to leave the Paramour and never look back. Mikey confessed once that he wanted to burn it down one night. Gerard never felt like that about the house.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

Mikey found his hand and squeezed it. “It's okay. We did it and maybe it was even worth it. I can't make it go away, I can't change it. These things speak to you and they just don't speak to me. It isn't my fault or yours. That's how it is.”

“It really is for sale,” Gerard said musing.

Mikey inhaled another lungful of smoke. “It is also haunted,” he answered.

“I don't want to live in L.A.,” Gerard said, squeezing his brother's hand.

“I bet you can find a cheaper haunted house in Jersey, too.”

Gerard's free hand curled tighter around the metal bar. “Yeah,” he said.

~3~
Steve wasn't there when Ghost woke up. Ghost wasn't sure it was because he was gone already or if he didn't come back last night after the gig and the drinking with the other bands.
The bed felt cold under his fingertips where the warmth of Steve's body usually lingered. He closed his eyes once more and breathed. Things were changing. He couldn't outrun it. He had tried, he realized now. He knew, of course he knew that Steve would realize it one day and then he would leave. Ghost hoped it wouldn't be for another thirty odd years, at least.
He got up, showered, brushed his teeth, put on clothes and went down in search of breakfast and tea.
The day was hot and sunny.The sky was a pale blue, e took a sip of tea and made his way to the murder house.

Chad was waiting for him at the gate. He smiled as Ghost approached. “I didn't really think you would come back.”

“I said I would.”

“People say a lot of things, they do a lot less of the things they promise they'll do.”

Ghost nodded, he sat down outside the fence, cross-legged and Chad did the same. “They do. That's how people are.”

“I was happy once, you know? Sometimes I can even remember it,” Chad said. He sounded wistful.
Ghost wanted to tell him that he could be happy again, but he didn't know that. He tried to make things alright for Steve and Ann and it didn't work. He tried to make Steve feel better and in the end Steve was leaving because he couldn't deal. Ghost felt between angry and resigned. Angry because he had hoped that Steve would work it out and resigned, because he knew it would end like this. He knew deep down there was no chance for Steve to ever- he cut that thought off and took a sip of tea.

“Maybe you'll fall in love with someone else,” Ghost said.

Chad laughed, but it didn't sound amused. “I can go out only once a year. I can only leave this cursed house on Halloween. That's apparently when the dead walk the earth. How could I make it work?”
It wasn't true that the dead only walked the earth on Halloween, Ghost knew that, but maybe it was true for Chad and the people in the house.
“And I don't want anyone else to move in here,” Chad added softly.
Ghost nodded, he understood it. He curled his free hand around the bar, running his fingers over it. It was like chasing the warmth of someone's body. It was strange. He felt Chad's gaze on him and blushed without knowing why. He looked up to see Chad smile.

“Uhm...” he said, but didn't let go of the bar.

“There were two guys here yesterday. They couldn't see me, obviously, but they,” he stopped and looked through the bars at something, then back to Ghost's face, “they were interested in the house. One of them was running his fingers over the bar just like you.”

“Oh,” Ghost said looking into Chad's eyes. They were sparkling with something Ghost couldn't identify.

“Like chasing the lingering warmth of someone,” Chad said. Wistfully.

“Yeah,” Ghost answered.

~+~
Gerard went back to the house without telling Mikey. Mikey would only worry. Of course he would. He was better off with Pete and Patrick doing stuff and things Gerard didn't want to think about. Not because what Gerard was thinking could be true, more because he just didn't want to go there at all.
The estate agent was a middle-aged woman whom Gerard didn't find sympathetic at all, but he smiled back at her anyway.

“The house has quite a history,” he said as she opened the front door for them.

“Yes, Mister Way. You can certainly say that,” she looked a bit nervous Gerard thought. He wondered how freaking hard it was for her to sell the house. How hard it was to make people even look at it.

“I read some of the previous owners died here?”

“Yes, it was very tragic. Doctor Harmon hung himself from that chandelier over there,” she pointed up and Gerard followed her finger. “After his wife died giving birth to their child.” Her gaze lingered at the end of the stairs, but she got herself together fast and pointed out the kitchen. “The last owners just left the house. They didn't die in here,” she said after a while.

“They just left?” Gerard asked.

“Yes. Left all kinds of things too. If you should be interested I am sure we could work something out.”

“I would like to see the upstairs rooms and the basement, please?” he ignored her comment about the furniture. He had his own. He liked it too.

She stopped in her speech about the awesomeness of the glass windows and lamps and looked at him. “The basement?”

“Yes, you see, I am a musician and maybe it would be suitable for a studio,” he answered smoothly. It wasn't a real lie. He was a musician, but that was not why he wanted to see the basement. He was curious about the gay couple that died there. He was curious about all the people that died in the house, but why kill your lover in the basement, he wondered. Why kill the person you love at all?

“Oh, of course,” she said and gave him one of her fake smiles again. He let her lead the way.
The basement was spacious, but not really in any shape to make a studio out of it and it was dark. Something more than just the lack of light, Gerard thought and felt a side of him respond to the darkness lingering in the corners.

The agent made a noise and Gerard's thoughts snapped to the present. “The bedrooms upstairs?” he asked.
She nodded and climbed the stairs hastily.

~4~
Steve wasn't back yet when Ghost came from his visit to Chad. Ghost wasn't sure if Steve would come back at all, but then his eyes fell upon the guitar case in the corner and he let out a soft relieved breath. Steve would be back at least to get his guitar. Steve loved the guitar; he couldn't ever leave it behind. He loved it like he loved the car. Ghost only had to wait for him.
He made tea, something with lemon, and a sandwich, ate and then curled up on the bed with a book he found in a thrift store on his way back to the hotel. Chad had told him there should be one and it was still there. It was the first thing that caught his eye and the elderly man who the store belonged to just gave it to him. No questions asked, because sometimes things just worked out in his favour.
He woke up once during the night as Steve lay down next to him, an arm slung over Ghost's hip. Ghost snuggled back into Steve's warmth, with his eyes closed and was asleep a few seconds later.
When he woke up the next day Steve was gone. This was the last day for them in Los Angeles. The last gig and then they would be on their way to somewhere else. Anywhere else, Ghost thought. He wasn't sure he was ready to leave Los Angeles just yet. He wasn't sure he was supposed to leave just yet. It was hard to explain to people who, well, who weren't like him.

~+~
Mikey gave him an unimpressed look and lit another cigarette.
Gerard didn't feel guilty, because he was a grown man and could do with his money what he wanted to do with his money and if he wanted to buy a stupid haunted house then he totally could do that.

“And get eaten by whatever is residing there,” Mikey said, exhaling smoke angrily.

“I won't get eaten.”

“Killed then. What does it matter? If you hang yourself or if something gets to you before you go insane in there? Gee,” there was an emphasis on his name, and Gerard winced, “you'll be dead and I would never see you again and Alicia and Frank and Ray neither and-”

“I get it,” Gerard interrupted.
Mikey handed his half smoked cigarette over. He was trying to smoke less, but Gerard couldn't blame him that it just wasn't working right now. Gerard made him worry. Again. He wondered when that would stop.

“Why did you have to go inside and see it?” Mikey asked, he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, exposing his throat and Gerard had a flash of something and it was red and bloody and he shook his head and looked away from Mikey's neck.

“I just had to. It was like-” he stopped and felt Mikey shift on the sofa. Leaning into him. Their shoulders touched.

“It was calling you,” Mikey whispered.

Gerard nodded. It was just like that. There was no reason to lie to Mikey. His brother just knew these things. “But I'm not going to buy it.”

“Yeah?” Mikey asked. It was a real question, despite the lack of important words.

“Yeah,” Gerard answered. It was something he knew. “But I can never live in Los Angeles. You know that, right?”

“Because if we make you, you will buy the house.”

“It's the only one I want,” Gerard answered truthfully.

Mikey grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, stroking his thumb over Gerard's hand. “It's kinda funny,” he said, “if there is a supernatural thing in the area you will find it. Or it will find you.”

“Well,” Gerard answered with a smile, “you and Pete found the house.”

“Yeah, but it's calling you. Not me and Pete.”
Gerard couldn't really argue that point. He just squeezed Mikey's hand and they didn't say a word about it for the rest of the day.

FOUR
Keep missing you

~1~
“You would be stranded here,” Steve said. He was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette and listening to the street-musician outside the tiny window. Ghost was listening to him too.

“I can take care of myself,” Ghost answered, because a) it was true and b) he didn't want Steve to stay because he thought he had to be Ghost's knight in shiny armor.

Steve snorted as he exhaled. Ghost knew he should feel offended. “You're like a baby seal or something.”

“I did kill a vampire, Steve,” Ghost said softly. He didn't bring it up often. Actually he hadn't brought it up at all until now. It was still the truth. He did kill a vampire, a thing stronger and more vicious than Steve.
Steve stayed silent for a long while, only smoking and Ghost let him mull it over in his head. Let him remember, maybe. Let him make a decision.

“You did,” Steve said eventually. He didn't sound happy about it. Ghost wasn't happy about it, hadn't been at the time either. Sometimes he could still feel the blood running down his fingers. He dreamed about it too. “But could you do it again?”

“I don't know. I don't want to and I -” he stopped. He felt helpless at times like these. Helpless because he couldn't explain this shit to Steve. There was just no way.

“See? You need me,” Steve answered.
It was true to some extent. But the thing was that Steve needed him too, maybe needed him more than Ghost needed Steve. If you could measure these things at all.

“I don't need you to be my hero,” Ghost made himself say, because it needed to be said.

“I know,” Steve said,. He flipped the butt of his cigarette out of the window and didn't look at Ghost. Ghost closed his eyes. Maybe it wasn't over yet, but this was their swan song. He could feel it. Maybe Steve could feel it too. “In other news, music related. This guy from that band I was hanging out with? He said that they're having a gig in Chicago and asked if we wanted to come?”
Ghost knew that Steve already said yes. It was the only logical thing to do anyway. They were on a road-trip. The raison d'être was to be on the road and not staying in one place. And Steve felt like they overstayed their welcome in L.A.

“Sure,” Ghost said easily.

“Great. Pack your stuff and we're out of here next thing in the morning.”

~+~
Gerard didn't contact the agent, he even tore up her business card and threw it into the trashcan in front of a restaurant so he wouldn't be tempted. Mikey watched with approval as Gerard did it.

“Now we can get into the car and get the hell out of L.A.” Gerard said.

“Uhm...I kinda promised Pete to come over for lunch, later. Do you want to come with?”

Gerard was tempted to say hell no, but he let himself mull it over. “Okay, I just want to go to that thrift store I saw the other day. I need something to send Frank.”

Mikey grinned. “And Ray. Ray will be sad if you only send stuff to Frank.”

“What about Alicia?” Gerard asked.

“What about her?”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “What are you getting her from L.A.?” He was really curious too. It was rare that Mikey found something before Gerard did.

“A map with all the houses of famous people on it. She'll like it.”

“It's hilarious,” Gerard admitted. “I bet Frank would like that too.”

“Go and find yourself a gift,” Mikey said, smiling.

Gerard nodded and tried to stay earnest and focused as he did it too. It didn't really work, but he thought the effort counted for something. “See you at Pete's then.”

“Try not to be late,” Mikey said.
Gerard didn't make any promises, but he would try not to be late. He would try because he really started to get hungry.

~2~
Ghost sat down on the sidewalk in front of the fence and Chad did the same.

“You look like someone killed your pet bunny,” Chad said, lighting a cigarette.

“I'm leaving Los Angeles.”

Chad nodded. “Of course you are.” He exhaled smoke away from Ghost's face and Ghost curled his fingers around the bars. The metal felt warm to the touch.

“I never thought I would meet someone here,” he said.

“You didn't meet anyone here. I am not a real person.”

“You are a real person,” Ghost said. It didn't matter that Chad was dead and that his corpse was probably lying half rotten at some cemetery somewhere close by.

“I'm a ghost,” Chad said it like he needed to make it clear to Ghost. He didn't. Ghost knew all about ghosts spirits, the lost souls. Whatever you wanted to call them. He knew about them and about other creatures too.

“I know that, but you're still real to me,” Ghost answered. “It doesn't make a difference to me.”

Chad cocked his head. “It really doesn't,” he decided after a minute. “And now you're moving on.”

“I am on a road-trip with Steve. We had only planned to stay one night in Los Angeles,” Ghost answered.

“Steve?”

“My friend,” Ghost said, because of all the things that Steve was, this one would always be true. “We're musicians and we had a gig and now we have to move on.”

“The guy I told you about saw the house. Had the full tour. I think he is really interested in it,” Chad said out of the blue. Like he just remembered or like he wanted to change the subject. “He told that woman that sold us this house,” he said 'house' like it was something hateful (and Ghost supposed that it was, at least this one), “that he was a musician too. He was by early today. Was staring at the house like it was telling him stories. And what do I know? Maybe it was.”

“Are you going to make him leave the house before it can do something to him?” Ghost asked, something inside his chest began to hurt and pull, but he didn't know why.

“I'll try, but I can't make any promises. If he's smart, if he has any sense at all he won't be back.”

“You bought it,” Ghost whispered.

“Clearly I didn't have the best judgment,” Chad answered and he didn't sound bitter. “This is better than talking to the doctor, you know?”

“You have a doctor in there?”

“Two. One is a psychiatrist.”

“How many people are living in the house?”

“To be honest I have no clue.” He crushed his butt on the pavement just inside the fence. “The sad thing is that only Patrick is gay.”

Ghost nodded. He didn't know how to answer Chad. “I wish-”

“Don't bother. It's not like you can change it,” Chad said, he was pulling at the grass-blades and digging his fingers into the soil.

“I still wish I could do something.”

“You did something. You made me leave the freaking house and you gave me the opportunity to talk to someone sane and whole and not damned.” He was playing with something pink. Ghost stared at Chad's fingers until Chad held it up. “A shell,” he said.
It was a shell. A pale pink shell. Ghost reached over the fence and Chad let it drop into his palm. Ghost stared at it like he hadn’t ever seen a shell before. He did see one before. He saw this one before. He had held it in his hand, between his fingers and had brushed the sand off of it too.

“I left it on the hood of a car,” Ghost said.

“You sure?”

“Yes I did. Some weeks ago me and Steve were staying at this small bed and breakfast with ocean view and I went down to the beach one morning and gathered shells.”

“And you left them on the hood of a car?” Chad asked.

“I didn't gather them for me.”

“Oh, okay. For whom did you pick them up then?”

“I don't know. Someone who wanted them badly enough,” he put the shell in the pocket of his cardigan and looked at Chad. “I can't explain it. Things just happen.”

“Tell me about it,” Chad answered.

“Can I keep it?” Ghost asked belatedly.

Chad smiled. He looked good when he smiled. Whole somehow, Ghost thought. “Yeah.”

“You should smile more often. It looks good on you.”
Chad laughed.

~+~
Dinner with Pete wasn't horrible after all. Maybe Gerard was getting used to having Pete around or maybe Mikey was sneaky like a sneaky thing that sneaks things past Gerard. Everything was possible in a world with a murder house he decided. Even the possibility that Gerard was getting to like Pete. Not just tolerate. Gerard suspected that Mikey had a hidden agenda here. He didn't like to think about it too much.
Pete hugged him and then grinned and waved as they were leaving the driveway for new adventures.

“So what did you get Frank?” Mikey asked as he was driving. Eyes firmly on the road and he was still smiling. Mikey really liked Pete, Gerard thought and he knew that Alicia liked Pete too and maybe, but Gerard didn't want to think about it now. He was on a road-trip to somewhere. Destination unknown, but important.

“A book.”

“A book?” Mikey asked. Gerard was sure he could detect some skepticism in his voice.

“It's full of pictures of tattoos.” He was rummaging in his bag, but then remembered that he put it in the mail before going to Pete's. “It's old, okay? And I already sent it.”

“Of course you did. Where did you find it anyway?”

“There was this small thrift-store by the murder house,” Gerard answered.

“You were there again?”
Gerard shrugged. He was, he needed to say goodbye or something. It was hard to explain. Mikey sighed. “I'm glad you didn't call that agent and let her talk you into it.”

“There wouldn't have been much work on her part. I wanted it no matter what. I just don't want to live n L.A.”

“And I won't make you.”

“Maybe New York?” Gerard mused.

“Are there haunted houses in New York?”

“Maybe someone should watch more Ghost Hunters.”

“Meaning?”

“There are haunted houses everywhere, Mikey. People stay away from certain places, because they don't feel right.” Gerard was staring out of the window, watching L.A. passing them by.

“Except for you. You go in there and dare people to do it with you.”

“I don't dare people-” Gerard began, looking back at Mikey's profile.

“I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's good to confront your fears, but sometimes the things out to get you, are really out to get you, Gee.”

Gerard nodded. It was true enough after all. He had felt the pull of the house as he was standing outside just looking at it. He was feeling it more strongly when he was inside. Who knows what would have happened if he had bought that house. Maybe in another reality he had and made Mikey live there with him.
“Where are we going?” he asked after a while of silence.

“How should I know? It is your quest.”
Gerard didn't even try to deny that it was a quest, because it was so obviously one. He was Mario and Mikey was Luigi or something and the princess was that boy from his dream all those weeks ago.

~3~
The air got colder the further they got away from Los Angeles. Ghost's thoughts were trapped in a circle. He was sad that he had to leave Chad, somehow he thought he could've done more. But there was only so much you could do for the dead.

“Stop brooding,” Steve said. He didn't sound angry as much as tired, resigned. Ghost was pretty sure by now that this was their end. A last road-trip. A last time they would play their music outside of Missing Mile. He knew that Steve would never abandon him like that, but he also knew that Steve tried to not be - he tried not to feel so much for Ghost.

“I can't help it. I feel sad.”

“That we left L.A.?”

“Yes,” Ghost said, because it wasn't untrue. It was part of a bigger picture and sometimes it was all about the bigger picture.

“I swear one day you're going on a quest to save all the lost souls,” Steve answered.
The thing was, and Steve didn't realise that or he didn't want to, that Ghost already was on that quest. From the day he was born he tried to do the right thing for the living and the dead. Mostly the dead wanted someone to listen to them - like the living, actually. Nothing ever really changed.

~+~
Gerard was zoned out and he knew it. His coffee was getting cold beside him. His ass was getting cold, but he couldn't make himself care. He was sketching the boy's face and it looked like a model's or an angel's or something other, something ethereal. It was hard to describe, that's why he didn't try. He just sketched it out. Soft, pale lines that were his hair. Strands as wispy as spiderwebs, pale, pale eyes and Gerard thought, maybe his lips would look like those shells left on the hood of their car.
Mikey's voice was a constant murmur in the distance. He was talking to Alicia and maybe Gerard should tell him to just go home. He was a grown man. He could finish his quest on his own. It really wasn't fair of him to monopolize Mikey like that, just because he was Gerard's brother and Gerard knew him the longest. It wasn't fair to keep him away from his girlfriend just because Gerard didn't have anyone right now in his life.
He smudged a shadow under the boy's eye and looked up at the sky he could see through the soft green leaves and branches of the tree he was sitting under. This was good. He felt at peace when he did this. Sketching, filling in shadows, following the lines of a pencil.

“So,” Mikey said, sitting down next to him.

“What does Alicia say? She ready to murder me?” Gerard wanted to know, closing his sketchbook and throwing his pencil in the pencil-box.

Mikey laughed. “She wouldn't.”

“Because it would make you cry,” Gerard interrupted.

“It would,” Mikey answered. “She was asking when we'll be back.”

“I don't know. I honestly can't answer that question, Mikey. But you could just book a flight back home to her. I'll be okay.”

Mikey nudged him with his bony elbow. “Of course you'll be okay. But the thing is that by now I really want to be there when you find him. Or he finds you.”

Gerard leaned into Mikey's body warmth and nodded. “We should buy her something really awesome on our way back home,” he said.

“She doesn't need anything awesome,” Mikey answered softly.

“No, but she deserves it,” Gerard said.

~4~
Spring in Chicago was cool. Ghost was glad for his cardigan, even if Steve mocked it. It was warm and sometimes he could smell his grandmother's perfume on it. It was most likely just a breeze from somewhere that carried the scent on the wind. But it was comforting in a way other clothes weweren't. It had big pockets too. Ghost liked to put all kinds of things in them: shells, feathers, small sticks, coins sometimes too.

“Are we looking for something?” Steve asked out of the blue. He hadn't say a word in two whole hours while they were wandering around the city.

“I don't know.”

“Ghost,” Steve stressed. He got out a cigarette and lit it. Inhaled, exhaled.

“I am looking for something,” Ghost said.
Steve nodded, handing him the cigarette. Ghost took it, their fingers brushed, Steve didn't pull away. But then he never did and this wasn't - whatever Ghost wanted it to be. It wasn't that. Would never be that.

“Did you see it?” Steve asked. Since Ann he was more open about these things. But they were far less scary now too.

“No, I don't know. It's just-”

“A feeling,” Steve finished for him and Ghost nodded, taking a drag of the cigarette and handing it back over to Steve.

“Do you want to go home?” Ghost asked. Now that he thought about it, maybe that was exactly what Steve wanted. Steve was easily bored in Missing Mile, he always wanted out and far away, but the thing was, that he always came back home.

Steve shrugged. “Maybe,” he allowed.

Maybe was as good as a yes in that case. “We could. After the gig we could just go home.”

Steve crushed the butt of his cigarette under his heel and turned to look at Ghost. “Let's skip the gig.”

~+~
For an insane reason Gerard woke up and wanted to go to Chicago, but he couldn't. They were too far away, but he had the feeling he needed to get there.
There was an aftertaste on his tongue that reminded him of days spent on Bob's porch. It was a crazy thing to think in the first place.
He stayed in bed and tried to catch the last cobwebs of the dream he had, but they were already slipping away into nothingness or where dreams went if you weren't fast enough to catch them and hold them close.
Gerard rarely was fast enough. He rarely cared for his random dreams too, to be honest. The interesting ones, the inspiring ones, always stuck somewhere inside his head.
This one was something else. He could feel it.

“You okay?” Mikey asked from above him.

“Sure. I have the insane urge to go to Chicago.”

“That is an insane urge,” Mikey admitted. “It would take us two days. Las Vegas is closer or San Francisco,” Mikey mused.

“You would like Las Vegas, wouldn't you,” Gerard said smiling.

“Sure,” Mikey sat down and Gerard turned to have a better look at him.

“You should buy a ticket and go home to Alicia.”

“Two more days, what does it matter?” Mikey said, getting out his phone and already tipping in the destination from where they were.
Gerard really loved his brother.

FIVE
Full circle

~1~
Steve was silent in the car on their way back to Carolina. Ghost couldn't really blame him. He stared out of the window and hoped for something to happen. If Steve was right and he usually was when it came to these things, they would be home in two to three days. Even faster if Steve drove like an insane person, which he did, and didn't sleep as much as one should when undertaking a fifteen hour drive.
Ghost buried his hands in the big pockets of his worn cardigan and played with the content inside. He could identify a small branch, a smooth polished stone, a coin of some sorts with soil still sticking to it and something sharp that cut his finger when he touched it. He made a small noise and Steve looked over.

“It's nothing. I just cut myself.”

“You need to stop carrying so much useless crap around with you. Half of the stuff is probably unsanitary and dangerous.”

Ghost didn't answer.
It wasn't that Steve didn't do unsanitary and dangerous things, he did them all the time in fact.
It seemed that Steve was barely hanging on. He didn't want to make things worse for both of them. He couldn't change, he would always pick up stuff like leaves and branches and stones, and Steve would forever fail to see why Ghost did it.
He sucked on his finger absentminded and let the world pass him by. Let the world pass them by. Things would fall into place. Maybe if he had stayed, maybe that missing piece would've come to him, but then nothing would have changed between him and Steve. Maybe this road-trip wasn't only for him, maybe it was important for Steve too.

~+~
When they arrived Gerard had lost that feeling. That extra something that let him feel like he was racing toward something and not away from it. He felt exhausted and empty in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He felt like someone who bled out would feel. Maybe. Gerard didn't know much about that or death or life, if he was honest for a second. He knew as much as any other person his age, or maybe less.

“He's not here,” he said and Mikey gave him a look. Mikey looked as exhausted as Gerard was feeling. They needed coffee and food and a bed. It was starting to get to Gerard, Mikey and the band. Frank called came more frequently. He was worried.

“I need a bed badly,” Mikey answered. They got out of the car the first chance they got.
Later when Gerard woke up in the middle of the night he could hear Mikey on the phone just outside the door. He tried not to listen in, but he waited for Mikey to reenter the room to talk to him. He couldn't sleep and Mikey was obviously up too. It seemed like the perfect time.

“I'm up,” Gerard said softly and Mikey switched the bedside lamp on. He was in sleep-pants and an old t-shirt that has been washed so often Gerard couldn't even tell which colour it had been.

“It was Alicia,” Mikey said.

“I know you guys are worried that I'm losing it.”

“We're always worried that you're losing it,” Mikey joked. “It's a small line between genius and insane.”

“I am an insane genius,” Gerard answered, because that was what he usually answered.

“And we love you for it,” Mikey said, sitting down on the bed.

“You're worried,” Gerard repeated.

“Not that you're losing it, Gee. Just we've been on the road for over six weeks now and I am getting homesick.”

“I told you that you didn't need to come with me on my epic quest to find -” he stopped, because he had no idea how to finish.

“That boy,” Mikey said.

Gerard nodded. “That boy.”

“You know I'm not letting you go off on your own.”

“I know,” Gerard answered and hoped that Mikey knew how much that meant to him and how freaking grateful he was.

~2~
Steve wanted to drive, but Ghost was feeling like the car was closing in on him and he needed to be outside. He needed to walk barefoot on grass and feel the blades. Feel the soil between his toes.

“Fine,” Steve said giving in and pulling over at the next motel.
It looked old and tired like most of the people hanging around the diner.
While Steve checked in Ghost went for coffee and tea and something to eat. The tea was hot and good, he didn't know about the coffee, but the muffins were a bit stale. It didn't matter. They would eat them anyway and Ghost got them for half the price, so he wasn't going to complain.
After he set the coffee and two of the four muffins on a table in their room he went outside again. Steve was showering and in a mood, so he wouldn't be much fun either. And the night was beautiful in a quiet way.
He was sitting on the small patch of grass nearby and looking up while his tea cooled by the minute. It wasn't cold anymore. Spring was here already. Ghost hummed a melody he didn't know.
Soon they would be in Missing Mile again and by then maybe Steve would have sorted himself out and maybe he would leave the house they were sharing, but Ghost didn't think that Steve would leave physically. Maybe he just needed a new girlfriend. Maybe Ghost should tell him that when they were drunk enough and he was ready to hear it.

~+~
Gerard didn't really pay attention to the TV, because he was looking for his favourite pencil inside the bag. He didn't have any idea why he didn't put it back into the freaking pencil box after he used it the last time. Maybe he had been too tired. Everything was possible. He cut his finger on something and swore. His finger was bleeding. He sucked at it and dumped the contents onto the bed. It was safer that way in the long run.
The thing that cut him was a shell, pale pink with a ragged edge. Must have been damaged during the long drive.
Gerard picked it up and looked at it. He remembered the day he, they, found it on the hood of their car. He wanted them badly and there they were. His mind flashed back to that morning when he was showering and pressing his hand to the wall. Like he wanted to connect with it, or someone on the other side. He turned the shell and tried to remember every guest on the porch that day, or down by the beach. He couldn't.

“You decided where to go?” Mikey asked as he came out of the bathroom. His hair was dripping, but it was getting a lot warmer these days and in that part of the world. Besides the hotel room came with central heating.

“I have no idea,” which wasn't really true. He had an idea. It was just that it was batshit crazy.

“Right,” Mikey mocked. He cocked his hip against a drawer and looked down at Gerard.

“I-” Gerard stopped, looked at the shell in his hand, perfect except for that sharp edge, and then back to his brother. “Would it be crazy if I told you that we need to go back to the beach?”

“Which one?”

“The one with the pink shells. The first one.”

“It would be crazy,” Mikey said, rubbing his hair dry. “But I've seen far worse and I've seen you on a crusade and this is far less scary than all the other shit.”

Gerard nodded. “Thanks,” he said. He was still playing with the shell.

“You think the boy did it,” Mikey said, catching on.

“Is it very crazy that I think that?” Gerard asked. He really wasn't sure. They were on the road for months now. It was a crazy thing to do in the first place. He was following a freaking dream, but then, wasn't that the American way to do things? Wasn't that what he was preaching? Weren't they living proof that you could make it happen? He was, it was, they were.

Mikey shrugged. “As said before: I've seen worse. We can make it to the beach. I liked it there. I think I should take Alicia some time.”

“And Pete,” Gerard said, because he was coming to terms with the whole thing.

Mikey smiled. “And Pete.”

~3~
The car broke down with a final noise that sounded like dying to Ghost's ears. He could smell salt in the air and smiled, but didn't let Steve see it. Steve was kicking at the tire and then against the door of the car. He was cursing like a sailor on shore leave. Steve sighed and leaned against the car, took a deep breath, got his pack of cigarettes out and lit one up. He didn't ask if Ghost wanted one too.

“It died on us,” he said after five deep drags of smoke.

“Seems so.” Ghost looked over the street and in the direction he knew the little bed and breakfast was lying.

“Did you know it would do that?” Steve asked. There was something in his voice Ghost didn't like. It sounded a lot like accusation.

“No,” he answered. His voice sounded steady to his own ears, but Steve looked at him anyway. As if he could see into Ghost's head. He couldn't, that was Ghost's area. He waited until Steve finished his cigarette and then started walking.

“Where are you going?”

“There is a small bed and breakfast maybe an hour away. That way,” Ghost answered pointing in the direction.

“We were here before,” Steve stated, he gave the car a gentle pat on the hood and grabbed the guitar.

“Yeah, at the beginning.”

“Lead the way then. I'll follow,” Steve answered.
I know, Ghost thought, but for how long?

~+~
Gerard parked the car on the driveway and felt like he was coming home. It was too early to be up, or too late and he hoped the nice couple that owned the bed and breakfast would even open the door. They got out of the car nearly simultaneously.

“So?” Mikey asked as he stretched his legs. He looked at Gerard as if he waited for something spectacular to happen.

“It's the right place,” Gerard answered.

Mikey rolled his eyes. “Of course it is. Google is never wrong.”

“The internet rules the world and one day we'll be sorry we let it,” Gerard answered.

Mikey smiled. “Let's get a room. I guess we'll be waiting?”
Gerard nodded. That was his plan. It felt right. If he could he would stay on the porch with a light and just wait patently. The thing was, he wasn't very patient to begin with and he had no lantern to guide the way either. He looked at the sky and then he followed Mikey to the porch because Mikey already knocked.

~4~
Steve fell face first onto the soft duvet and groaned.

“I hate this car,” he muttered, “but I'm glad it broke down here. I love how soft the beds are.”

“Yeah,” Ghost couldn't really disagree with him.

“You wanna first shower?”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Ghost. I am sure you charmed the owners to let us stay for an apple and five cents, so you totally get the first shower.” Steve didn't look at him, but Ghost knew him good enough that he could hear the smile in Steve's voice.

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Whatever man,” Steve said which was all Ghost was getting, but then that wasn't new either. And old patterns could be comforting.
He left his shoes at the bed and closed the door softly behind him. Then he began to strip.

~+~
Mikey was asleep in the other bed, Gerard could make it out in Mikey's breathing pattern. He couldn't sleep. The night around him felt like it was waiting, but it was Gerard who was waiting and he wasn't sure if it was real or some kind of mild insanity. Infatuation. Maybe.
He got up quietly and sneaked out of the room, grabbing a hoodie on his way out. The night was still chilly even with summer so close. They were on the coast.
As he was sitting on the porch smoking, he doubted that this was even a real place in time and space as he knew it. He exhaled slowly and then took another drag.
Something in the darkness to his right was moving. It came from the beach, from the water and Gerard stared. It was a pale figure, like something he had imagined as a kid when his grandmother read stories to him and Mikey about mermaids and fairies. He exhaled again and then held his breath. He just watched. He knew, of course he knew.

~5~
Ghost's feet were wet and a bit cold and he could feel everything under his soles. It was like connecting with the sand, the sea, the earth, the grass. With everything living or dead. He buried his toes in the sand. Steve would scoff because he just showered an hour or so ago and now he was getting dirty again, but Steve didn't understand the things Ghost understood.
When he closed his eyes he could hear a heartbeat in the darkness, underneath the wind and waves. He cocked his head and turned in the heartbeat's direction. He exhaled slowly and stood up.
The cherry looked like a red-orange firefly in the darkness of the small house. Everything was cast in shadows, but Ghost knew. Still he could only take one careful step at a time. The thing was, it wouldn't happen again, because everything only happened once in a certain way.
The figure stood up and exhaled pale smoke into the night. Ghost took another step and another and another until he stood at the end of the stairs to the porch. Three steps away the man blinked in the darkness.

“I heard you sing in the shower,” Ghost said.

“I do that from time to time,” the man answered. “You look just like I knew you would,” he added and then waved his hand in a helpless gesture, the glowing cherry of his cigarette painting a line in the air.
Ghost smiled.

~+~
They were ships in the night, Gerard thought, and at this beach somewhere nowhere - a place that might even not be real, but something they created - they drop anchor. He crushed his cigarette under his boot and stepped down as the boy took a step up. They met halfway.

“I'm Gerard,” Gerard said.

“Ghost,” the boy answered and really Gerard didn't need to know more than that.

~end~