Remaining Relevant .:Four:.
Title: Remaining Relevant .:Four:.
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: He knows he’s going to die as soon and he’s grabbed from behind. He kicks and struggles and tries to scream but the noise is muffled by the hand over his mouth, which he bites as hard as he can. Whoever’s got a hold of him isn’t even phased though and he feels like his fate is sealed.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.
-Prologue- [1] [2] [3]
Chapter Four
“So you must hang out in the cemetery a lot. I never run into you anywhere else.”
Brendon’s fingers freeze mid-tap, but then quickly resume the rhythm they‘re playing on his knee. It’s a long enough pause for Ryan to notice, and he smirks. “Uh, well.” Brendon fumbles for an excuse. He was hoping breaking this news to Ryan would go a little differently.
“You must have a relative buried here or something?” Ryan prompts gently, and Brendon sighs.
“You already figured it out, didn’t you?” he asks, watching Ryan’s face closely. He still can’t see his eyes, because of the sunglasses, but the way his lips are curled up at the corners tell Brendon everything he needs to know.
“I was hoping it wasn’t true. But when Frank mentioned his friend Brendon was murdered…” He shrugs. “Also, William pointed out your tombstone when we were walking together the other day. It wasn’t very hard to put two and two together.”
Brendon sighs and shifts his gaze to the tombstone they’re still situated in front of. He bites his lip and doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing he can think to say that would be appropriate. He distantly wonders what he would do in Ryan’s place, but then realizes he already knows the answer to that.
“Why did you talk to me?” Ryan asks in a whisper, no longer smiling. “That first day, what made you decide to reveal yourself to me when you won’t even let your friends see you?”
“You… reminded me of someone,” Brendon says carefully, remembering very clearly how much he hoped it was his Ryan, come back to life somehow. Now that he thinks about it, that’s a completely ridiculous thing to hope for.
“My grandfather.” Ryan nods, confident in his assumption. “I’ve heard the stories,” he adds, in answer to Brendon’s unasked question. “People in this town sure like to gossip…”
Brendon laughs once, short and humorless. “No kidding,” he mumbles, thinking of the his very first day in town. The day he met Jon and the first time he was ever in the apartment. It seems like a lifetime ago. Which, technically…
“Where is he now?”
Brendon frowns. That hadn‘t been the question he was expecting. “Still in the apartment above the bookstore, I guess.”
“What about my grandmother? Is she there with him? Is she a ghost?”
“Uh, no. No she’s not.”
Ryan hums, but let’s the matter drop. For now. Brendon’s sure there will be more questions later.
They sit in comfortable silence for a while. Ryan reaches over and blindly finds Brendon’s hand. He laces their fingers together and smiles in a way that comforts Brendon. Brendon smiles too and doesn’t pull his hand away.
-
No one in town is brave enough to go out alone anymore, and there’s suddenly an unspoken rule that you should be inside before nightfall. So many deaths, no one’s taking any chances.
Except, that is, William, who’s never been one for playing it safe.
He knows he’s going to die as soon and he’s grabbed from behind. He kicks and struggles and tries to scream but the noise is muffled by the hand over his mouth, which he bites as hard as he can. Whoever’s got a hold of him isn’t even phased though and he feels like his fate is sealed.
Every time he thinks he just might be free, he’s grabbed again, tighter than before. He shouts and begs until a hand is over his mouth again and he feels the point of the knife being pressed into his back.
All his struggling is in vain and he quickly accepts his fate. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently cries and thinks about how the last thing he did was kiss Gabe, and that maybe he’s happy with that.
-
Ryan doesn’t see it happen. Can’t. He’s glad, for once, that he’s blind. The sounds alone are enough to make him want to vomit.
He wants to try and stop it. He wants to leap out of his hiding place (huddled in the corner behind the dumpster, knees pulled tightly to his chest, hands clamped over his ears) and maybe distract the murderer or something. Anything, at this point.
But the rational part of him knows they, the victims, would only both end up dead that way. He needs… he needs a phone, or a weapon. Or maybe some eyesight would be helpful.
He curses at himself under his breath and squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to block out the sounds. If only he hadn’t dropped his cane. He could use that, maybe, if he could find it. He’s too afraid to move though, to search for it along the ground. He’s shaking so violently he can’t even function.
“No, no! Stop! Please,” the victim cries, the first words he’s been able to form since he was taken by surprise, and Ryan’s heart clenches and he gasps because he recognizes that voice. It’s a pretty one, usually playful and flirtatious. Happy and warm.
Not right now though, and maybe not ever again. Because what Ryan hears next is a sharp intake of breath, and then a thud as something heavy hit’s the ground. A body.
“Serves you right, fucker,” someone spits, and then there is a sound like cracking bones. Ryan gags. “And you’re just one of the many,” the low voice continues. A hollow laugh echoes around the alleyway. There are footsteps and the twisted torturer is gone just as quickly as he’d come.
Ryan swallows thickly and lays his head on his knees. His breathing comes in short gasps and his shoulders shake as if he’s sobbing, but no tears leave tracks down his cheeks.
“William,” he breathes, and it’s goodbye. Goodbye to the pleasant boy he met only a little while ago.
He thinks, why me?, and then realizes that’s just selfish.
-
An- EXCUSE THE SUPER SHORTNESS. I feel like adding anything else to this chapter would be kind of pointless.
I promise that’s it with the deaths for a little while :D
Feedback makes my heart happy ♥
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: He knows he’s going to die as soon and he’s grabbed from behind. He kicks and struggles and tries to scream but the noise is muffled by the hand over his mouth, which he bites as hard as he can. Whoever’s got a hold of him isn’t even phased though and he feels like his fate is sealed.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.
-Prologue- [1] [2] [3]
Chapter Four
“So you must hang out in the cemetery a lot. I never run into you anywhere else.”
Brendon’s fingers freeze mid-tap, but then quickly resume the rhythm they‘re playing on his knee. It’s a long enough pause for Ryan to notice, and he smirks. “Uh, well.” Brendon fumbles for an excuse. He was hoping breaking this news to Ryan would go a little differently.
“You must have a relative buried here or something?” Ryan prompts gently, and Brendon sighs.
“You already figured it out, didn’t you?” he asks, watching Ryan’s face closely. He still can’t see his eyes, because of the sunglasses, but the way his lips are curled up at the corners tell Brendon everything he needs to know.
“I was hoping it wasn’t true. But when Frank mentioned his friend Brendon was murdered…” He shrugs. “Also, William pointed out your tombstone when we were walking together the other day. It wasn’t very hard to put two and two together.”
Brendon sighs and shifts his gaze to the tombstone they’re still situated in front of. He bites his lip and doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing he can think to say that would be appropriate. He distantly wonders what he would do in Ryan’s place, but then realizes he already knows the answer to that.
“Why did you talk to me?” Ryan asks in a whisper, no longer smiling. “That first day, what made you decide to reveal yourself to me when you won’t even let your friends see you?”
“You… reminded me of someone,” Brendon says carefully, remembering very clearly how much he hoped it was his Ryan, come back to life somehow. Now that he thinks about it, that’s a completely ridiculous thing to hope for.
“My grandfather.” Ryan nods, confident in his assumption. “I’ve heard the stories,” he adds, in answer to Brendon’s unasked question. “People in this town sure like to gossip…”
Brendon laughs once, short and humorless. “No kidding,” he mumbles, thinking of the his very first day in town. The day he met Jon and the first time he was ever in the apartment. It seems like a lifetime ago. Which, technically…
“Where is he now?”
Brendon frowns. That hadn‘t been the question he was expecting. “Still in the apartment above the bookstore, I guess.”
“What about my grandmother? Is she there with him? Is she a ghost?”
“Uh, no. No she’s not.”
Ryan hums, but let’s the matter drop. For now. Brendon’s sure there will be more questions later.
They sit in comfortable silence for a while. Ryan reaches over and blindly finds Brendon’s hand. He laces their fingers together and smiles in a way that comforts Brendon. Brendon smiles too and doesn’t pull his hand away.
-
No one in town is brave enough to go out alone anymore, and there’s suddenly an unspoken rule that you should be inside before nightfall. So many deaths, no one’s taking any chances.
Except, that is, William, who’s never been one for playing it safe.
He knows he’s going to die as soon and he’s grabbed from behind. He kicks and struggles and tries to scream but the noise is muffled by the hand over his mouth, which he bites as hard as he can. Whoever’s got a hold of him isn’t even phased though and he feels like his fate is sealed.
Every time he thinks he just might be free, he’s grabbed again, tighter than before. He shouts and begs until a hand is over his mouth again and he feels the point of the knife being pressed into his back.
All his struggling is in vain and he quickly accepts his fate. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently cries and thinks about how the last thing he did was kiss Gabe, and that maybe he’s happy with that.
-
Ryan doesn’t see it happen. Can’t. He’s glad, for once, that he’s blind. The sounds alone are enough to make him want to vomit.
He wants to try and stop it. He wants to leap out of his hiding place (huddled in the corner behind the dumpster, knees pulled tightly to his chest, hands clamped over his ears) and maybe distract the murderer or something. Anything, at this point.
But the rational part of him knows they, the victims, would only both end up dead that way. He needs… he needs a phone, or a weapon. Or maybe some eyesight would be helpful.
He curses at himself under his breath and squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to block out the sounds. If only he hadn’t dropped his cane. He could use that, maybe, if he could find it. He’s too afraid to move though, to search for it along the ground. He’s shaking so violently he can’t even function.
“No, no! Stop! Please,” the victim cries, the first words he’s been able to form since he was taken by surprise, and Ryan’s heart clenches and he gasps because he recognizes that voice. It’s a pretty one, usually playful and flirtatious. Happy and warm.
Not right now though, and maybe not ever again. Because what Ryan hears next is a sharp intake of breath, and then a thud as something heavy hit’s the ground. A body.
“Serves you right, fucker,” someone spits, and then there is a sound like cracking bones. Ryan gags. “And you’re just one of the many,” the low voice continues. A hollow laugh echoes around the alleyway. There are footsteps and the twisted torturer is gone just as quickly as he’d come.
Ryan swallows thickly and lays his head on his knees. His breathing comes in short gasps and his shoulders shake as if he’s sobbing, but no tears leave tracks down his cheeks.
“William,” he breathes, and it’s goodbye. Goodbye to the pleasant boy he met only a little while ago.
He thinks, why me?, and then realizes that’s just selfish.
-
An- EXCUSE THE SUPER SHORTNESS. I feel like adding anything else to this chapter would be kind of pointless.
I promise that’s it with the deaths for a little while :D
Feedback makes my heart happy ♥