all marshmallows and no cereal - Heedless in Rain [24/24]

Title: Heedless in Rain [24/24]
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R
Pairing: Ghost!Ryan/Brendon, Brendon/?
POV: Third
Summary: Brendon, desperate for a place to live and low on cash, moves into an old apartment above an old bookstore. An old, haunted apartment.
Chapter Summary: There’s not a lot of pain. It stings, when he’s hit, but then the pain turns into numbness and the numbness spreads all over his body until he can’t feel anything anymore, can barely think.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: Last chapter. Omg, I’m going to miss this fic. Also, apologizing in advance for any missed typo’s. I’m going on 20 minutes of sleep here. More at the end.

-Prologue- [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23]



Chapter Twenty-four

There’s not a lot of pain. It stings, when he’s hit, but then the pain turns into numbness and the numbness spreads all over his body until he can’t feel anything anymore, can barely think.

There isn’t a flashback either. There’s no crystal clear moment of realization in which he thinks oh, I should’ve done something with my life.

There’s only Ryan’s distressed, beautiful face. It’s all Brendon can see as he falls to his knees, too numb to stand. He wants Ryan to be the last thing. The last thing he remembers from this life. Because he knows this is the end. The end. He won’t be coming back as a ghost. He won’t be forever in Ryan’s arms like he‘d fantasized.

But, maybe, he expected it would happen this way. Maybe not this way, but something similar. Part of him always wanted to die young and tragically, to have his youthful face splashed all over the front pages of newspapers. An even larger part of him just wants to be held by Ryan right now.

He doesn’t regret jumping in front of Frank. He loves Frank as a brother and a best friend. Frank, of all people, deserves to live a long and happy life. Brendon can’t think of anyone else’s life he’d rather save by giving up his own. Or, at least, not anyone who has a life that needs saving.

Ryan cries out and changes his direction when Brendon collapses, lunging instead toward Brendon, grabbing the boy in his arms and holding him close.

But Brendon can’t feel Ryan’s arms around him. He can’t see or hear Ryan anymore. Can’t draw another breath. So, he says with his last, “I love you, too,” and hopes Ryan hears him.

-

There’s a pause. A pause in which Gerard seems utterly befuddled by his own actions. He stares at the gun as if he’s only just now realized it’s there and is wondering what it does. And then he gives Brendon’s limp body the same look, and then Ryan’s tear-streaked face, and then he meets Frank’s eyes.

Frank takes advantage of this momentary hesitation on Gerard’s part and races to grab the gun. Gerard doesn’t put up a fight, just allows to weapon to be taken and pointed at him.

Frank doesn’t let himself think about it. He doesn’t let himself think about anything other than Mikey’s serene face and Brendon’s smiling one and how he’ll never see either of them that way again. He fires the gun and squeezes his eyes shut, wants to close his ears against the sickening thud of Gerard’s body hitting the ground, but can’t. The world is better off without Gerard, Frank tells himself. He just wishes someone else would’ve gotten rid of him sooner. Anyone but him.

“Call an ambulance,” Ryan whispers into the silence, able to think straight even in an awful situation like this. “Give me the gun and call an ambulance.”

Frank, shaking, turns around and opens his eyes. Ryan is standing now, Brendon laid out on the floor behind him, looking for all the world like he’s sleeping. Ryan shows no emotion on his face. Just holds out his hand expectantly. Letting the urgency in Ryan’s quiet voice guide him, Frank hands over the gun and stumbles to the kitchen, where the house phone waits.

-

Jon doesn’t allow anyone up into the apartment anymore ever. He’s never renting it out again and anyone who so much as sets foot on the stairs is in big trouble.

He’s not certain that his letting Brendon stay there caused all this. Things might’ve turned out the same way had he refused Brendon and forced the kid to stay somewhere else- somewhere not haunted, maybe. But that doesn’t stop the guilt from clawing at him, whispering things to him that make him want to cry.

Like he hasn’t done enough of that already. He hadn’t known Brendon for long, but life’s that much harder without his bouncy happiness. Even Spencer says so, and Spencer had even less contact with Brendon that Jon did. There’s something about him that’s infectious, that makes the people around him reflect his mood- usually happy, Brendon had a positive influence on the things around him.

He says as much at Brendon’s funeral. Everyone in town shows up. Jon’s sure that Brendon didn’t even know half of them, but they’re mourning his death anyway. Or maybe they’re mourning for others. The ones left. Those who lost him. It would only make sense if they’ve seen Frank.

The poor guy is asked to tell his story over and over and over again throughout the day. What happened? Who was there? How did Brendon die? What about Gerard? What about Mikey?

Jon does his best to come to Frank’s rescue as many times as he can, striking up random conversation to pull his attention away from whoever was insensitive enough to ask him to recount the dreadful events in the first place. Frank always give him small, grateful smiles that don’t do anything to brighten his face.

-

Ryan reached a point, a great many years ago, where he stopped counting. Stopped counting seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years. Stopped counting the people who came in the apartment. Stopped counting his lack of heartbeats.

But it’s been four days, 8 hours, and 2 seconds since Brendon passed. Ryan can hear the tick of the clock in his head, each tick sounding more like an explosion that shakes his frame and rattles his brain.

No one’s come into the apartment since Spencer came up to retrieve a forgotten Hobo. Not even Jon, to clean up the blood. The blood that’s everywhere. Splattered on the walls and the floor and the furniture. Everywhere. It’s all Ryan can see when he bothers to look. Brendon’s face is all he sees when he doesn’t.

He has a feeling that he’ll see blood even when there’s not any to be seen anymore.

He knows, without a doubt, that this is how the rest of eternity will be spent. It will be spent counting and seeing red and seeing Brendon and missing the sound of a heartbeat. It’s worse now though, now that he was so close to being truly happy, something that he never achieved even while he was alive.

The only thing he can hope for now- the only thing worth hoping for- is that Brendon’s happy. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, Ryan hopes he’s happy. And if Brendon’s happy, then Ryan can pretend to be happy, too.

-

There’s a funeral, but that was two days ago. Every in town had shown up then, and people still come by to mourn him, to pay their last respects. People are crying over him and he wishes he could cry too.

It turns out that Gerard hadn’t died. He’d lost a lot of blood, but they were able to save him- only to throw him in jail for the rest of his life. But Brendon is comforted in the fact that Frank hadn’t actually murdered anyone. He knows what that would do to poor Frank’s golden heart.

“I miss him,” William whispers mournfully, leaning on Gabe for support. Brendon knows it’s true, as this is the second time they’ve stopped by just to gaze sadly at his tombstone.

“He misses you too,” Gabe assures, wrapping his arm around William’s shoulders and hugging him close. “He was a beautiful person.”

Brendon sighs and hugs his knees closer to his chest. He’s leaning against his own headstone. When people examine the epitaph there, it’s almost as if they’re examining him. Like they can see him. And it’s nice to pretend.

What he doesn’t understand is why he’s still here at all, if this could be called here. He feels utter numbness all the time. No cold, no hot, no happy, no sad. He doesn’t feel time passing, the way he did when he was alive. One sunrise and the next are already blurring together and it’s only been a few days.

“I love you, Brendon,” Gabe mumbles, putting more sincerity in the words than Brendon’s ever heard from him before. William nods his absolute agreement and sighs. The pair turn to walk away, William mumbling, “Next time, let’s bring flowers. I think he’d like that.”

Brendon lets his head fall into his hands. Why hadn’t he spent more time with Gabe and William? He should’ve gotten to know them better, let them know him better. It would’ve been fun, hanging out and listening to music and playing guitar and gossiping.

Brendon sighs and the wind sighs with him. The branches of the nearby trees creak ominously, like they always do at the slightest breeze. Brendon finds that he’s already used to it.

-

An 2-

So. Hard. To. Write. Not even kidding. And I’m not happy with it, not completely. Hopefully you guys won’t hate it.

Dedications: ssuukkii, the William Beckett to my Gabe Saporta. The Hippie Force is with us. justhush, because she’s been immensely supportive and wrote me Ghost!porn. Ily bb :* writeenow, and Brian, because they’ve both been and will continue to be amazing and rambly and full of win.

AND anyone who’s commented even once. I don’t think I could’ve finished it without your wonderful feedback. TYVM.

♥♥♥

Would anyone be interested in a sequel? I’m thinking about doing one. Vote y/n :]