all marshmallows and no cereal

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 01:10:17 GMT

O hai there flist!

I made this community to use as my ~writing journal. Why? Because I got really bored.
Just thought I'd give you a heads up. All fiction will be posted over there from now on.

♥

Remaining Relevant .:Sixteen:.

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 17:26:00 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Sixteen:.
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: They still have Frank tied up and blindfolded. Gerard is dragging the poor boy along beside him, fingers tight around Frank’s forearm. Maja might feel sorry for him if she had a heart. He’s cute and young and frightened. And he’ll probably die.
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] [12] [13] [14] [15]

Chapter Sixteen

"Gabe?" Brendon asks, surprised but happy. "Where’ve you been, man? I’ve been worried." It’s not completely a lie. He’s noticed Gabe’s absence at least, and would’ve been worried has he not been so wrapped up in… well, Ryan. Gabe doesn’t look like he’s taking William’s death too badly, anyway.

"Oh, I’ve been," Gabe waves a hand about. "Around. Vicky-T died, did you hear?" Okay, so. Maybe he’s stalling. He doesn’t want to tell Brendon he’s leaving (he doesn’t want to leave Brendon). "I don’t think you ever really met her. She was awesome, though."

"I’m… sorry to hear that. How are you taking…" Brendon trails off, doesn’t want to say William’s name.

Gabe gets it anyway. Brendon can tell because he abruptly changes the subject. "I’m leaving," he blurts, like he didn’t really mean to say it at all.

Brendon blinks. "Oh, uh. I didn’t mean to upset you or anything…" He scratches the back of his neck, stares at his shoes. He doesn’t want Gabe to leave- he could use the company. Something to distract him from missing Ryan (for which, by the way, he feels pathetic. He just saw Ryan an hour ago, he shouldn’t ache like this).

Gabe laughs, then. High pitched and nervous but genuine and very Gabe-like. It makes Brendon want to smile. "No, I meant. Like, I’m leaving town. In five days. With Greta and Chris."

That doesn’t make Brendon want to smile so much. He looks up, head tilted to the right just a little bit as he repeats, monotone, "Leaving." It was meant to come out as a question, or at least not so flat. He’s just a little… shocked. Sad.

"Yes," Gabe nods, drawing the word out, like he can’t believe it himself. "I just. It’s time for a change. I’ll never be able to get over him if I’m here, you know? We’re going to New York City. Did you know I’m from Jersey? It’ll be nice to get back there, see my old friends and my family… if they want to see me, that is." He shrugs, refuses to look Brendon in the eye.

Honestly, Brendon expected to lose everyone he cared about. He’s going to be here for an eternity, they aren’t. They would all go eventually, he just wasn’t expecting it so soon. What makes it worse is that this time, it’s not Gerard taking anyone away from him. Gabe made this decision on his own. And Brendon sees that it’s a good one, even if he’ll miss Gabe.

"I’ll miss you," he says, because why not? It’s the truth. "If you’re ever around again, you know you can come see me or whatever."

Gabe smiles now, looking honestly pleased with Brendon’s reaction. "I’ll miss you too, B. You’re not going to be alone, though. You’ll have Ryan."

Brendon only nods, decides not to mention Ryan’s plans to leave him too.

-

Maja thinks Gerard is crazy. Crazier than her, even. Killing is fun. Ghost hunting is just stupid. Ghosts aren’t even real.

The thing that really gets her is that Gerard doesn’t even know for sure if there is a ghost. He’s just going by rumors- things he’s heard around town. He claims to have been punched by a ghost before, but Maja definitely doesn’t believe that one.

Whatever, though. From what she’s seen, Gerard is very capable. He’ll finish what he started no matter what. If this is how he thinks they should go about it, then so be it. She’ll tag along, if only to see how this plays out. It’s like watching a movie. A particularly violent movie, maybe, but those are the best kind.

They still have Frank tied up and blindfolded. Gerard is dragging the poor boy along beside him, fingers tight around Frank’s forearm. Maja might feel sorry for him if she had a heart. He’s cute and young and frightened. And he’ll probably die.

As it is, however, she couldn’t care less.

Gerard has only explained so much to her, so she honestly has no idea what they’re doing in this cemetery. But Gerard is talking, standing in front of a tombstone with his eyes narrowed at the name, free hand clenched into a fist.

"Brendon, I know you’re still here. I know you’re a ghost.." He pauses, waits for something that doesn’t happen. Then continues with, "I have Frank, here, and I have Maja. Maja‘s a cold hearted bitch with a knife, and trust me when I say she knows how to prolong the suffering. No one would hear him scream out here…"

Frank struggles uselessly, half-heartedly. "Why are you even doing this, Gerard? Why not just kill me?" he asks, sounding defeated and tired. As he well should be. He’d put up quite the fight on the way there.

"I have to get Brendon back somehow. Since I can’t kill him…"

"Since you can’t kill me you’re going to torture my friends in front of me?"

Maja starts, wheels around to face the newcomer. He’s young, too. Young and tiny, but he looks confident. He looks comfortable in his own skin. And he looks fucking pissed. Maja figures he has a right to be fucking pissed, if this Frank kid really is his best friend.

"Yes," Gerard says, not at all surprised at the sudden appearance of the boy. Maja steps back, so she’s standing beside Gerard, out of the way. This is his game, she wants to let him play it. "Where’s your boyfriend at? I’d be willing to trade."

Brendon blinks, like he doesn’t get it. "What?"

"I’d trade Frank for the blind kid. Or I can just kill both of them. It won’t be hard, getting my hands on poor, vulnerable Ryan. Then I can bring him back here and make you watch while I slit his throat. Or maybe I‘ll let Maja do it. She deserves something for being so helpful."

Brendon’s eyes drag over Maja’s face, then, and she would definitely be dead if looks could kill. "So, what? You’re his fucking accomplice now? You’re both sick!"

Maja opens her mouth to offer up a stinging retort, but Gerard cuts across her. "Maybe I’ll kill Gabe, too," he says, like there hadn’t been a pause in his speech. "You like Gabe, don’t you? That motherfucker definitely deserves to die."

Brendon’s hands curl into fists at his sides. He can’t do anything. There’s no way he could close the gap between himself and Gerard before Maja pulled out her knife, killed Frank with it or at least threatened to. He can see it, gripped between two hands, and he can tell she’s just waiting for her chance to use it. "We both know you won’t stop until you’ve killed everyone, anyway."

"Maybe." Gerard shrugs. "Or maybe I’ll stick to my word and leave everyone the fuck alone after you choose."

Brendon glances at Frank, slumped against Gerard’s side like his feet won’t hold him up anymore. He meets Brendon’s gaze though, eyes trying to say something that Brendon just doesn’t get.

-

An- Yeah, yeah. Another Monday chapter I’m not particularly fond of. But ily guys. You always make me feel better when I’m down on myself. *hugs*

Feedback is lovely. I’d appreciate a comment, even if you just want to tell me how evil I am/how much you hate me for doing this to my characters. ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Fifteen:.

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 19:28:26 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Fifteen:.
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: Greta grins, showing teeth. “Yes, that is definitely still the plan. We leave next week, think you can be ready by then?”
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] [12] [13] [14]

Chapter Fifteen

Frank- well. Frank’s maybe just a little too nice for his own good. He didn’t even know that was possible, but apparently it is. Because his niceness has just gotten him in a shitload of trouble.

When a woman drops something, it’s common courtesy to pick it up for her. Frank would’ve done the same for a man, even. Politeness is something he does without thinking. He’d always been told it was a good thing. Now, he’s not so sure.

The woman walking just in front of him drops a piece of paper. He bends to pick it up for her, and when he straightens, there’s gun pointed at his face.

The woman is pretty- sharp featured and strong. Someone who could kick his ass. He swallows, holds out the balled up piece of paper. “I-I was planning on giving it back,” he stutters, even though he doesn’t think that’s what this is about at all. “I didn’t read it,” he adds, maybe just stalling for time.

“It’s blank anyway,” she says, flicks a piece of hair over her shoulder. Her accent is thick. “Come with me now, Frank, or I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

Frank opens and closes his mouth a few times, lets his hand fall back to his side. Finally, he settles on nodding. She didn’t exactly give him any other options.

-

The first thing Maja does is blindfold him and spin him around in circles, so he has no idea where they are now. It’s cold and quiet and creaky. It smells like dust and sugar. Frank wonders if this is how Ryan feels all the freaking time- lost and helpless.

Frank certainly doesn’t feel alone, though. No, not with the way Maja is pacing, shoes clicking on the floor, sighing every two goddamn seconds. His hands are bound behind him with rope that scratches his wrists. He would’ve attempted an escape, if not for that. And then it’s too late, because Gerard is suddenly there, sounding agitated as he says, “What, Maja? I was busy, okay.”

The clicking of Maja’s shoes stops. “Look,” she says, and Frank can tell they’re looking at him now, can feel their eyes burning holes in his head. “He fit the description.”

Gerard’s next breath sounds sharp and surprised. “That’s him,” he mumbles. “How did you… whatever.” Soft thud’s as Gerard crosses the room, and then a shift in their air when he kneels in front of Frank. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

“I’m not fucking hurt, you asshole,” Frank spits, pretends he isn’t shocked at his own outburst.

Gerard laughs. “There’s the Frank I know.” Another shift as Gerard stands, turns to Maja. “I know just how to use him. You tagging along?”

-

“I was thinking,” Gabe says, leaning his elbows on the counter and blinking at Greta. Greta looks up from where she’s pouring his coffee, smiles. “About what you said the other night. Do you remember? You were kind of incredibly drunk.”

Greta purses her lips as she thinks. “I said a lot of things that night, Gabe. Be more specific.”

“You said something about going to New York- oh, thanks.” He takes a sip of his coffee when it’s passed to him.

“Yeah,” Greta nods after a pause. “I remember. What about it?”

“Is that still… the plan? Because, you know. If it is, I think I’d like to come along.”

Greta grins, showing teeth. “Yes, that is definitely still the plan. We leave next week, think you can be ready by then?”

Gabe takes a deep breath, nods. He can so be ready by then if it means getting away from here. The sooner the better.

-

An- So, uh. Technically, this chapter is a day late. I never said I would always post on Mondays and Wednesdays, but I have been. And I didn’t yesterday. But here it is! In all it’s epic shortness! We’re getting closerrrr to the end, you guys. I said fifteen chapters at the beggining- obviously it's going to be more than that. You can decide if that's awesome or not.

Feedback is amaaazzzzinnggg. ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Fourteen:.

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 17:45:42 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Fourteen:.
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: “My question is simply… why? Why are you doing this, killing all these people?” Her tone is neither disapproving nor approving, timid nor curious. He can’t tell which emotion drives her.
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] [12] [13]

Chapter Fourteen

Gerard would be lying if he said living on the streets didn’t suck. It does. A lot. But a guy’s got to do what a guy’s got to do. It’s amazing no one’s found him yet, run across him and alerted the cops. It’s not like he’s being particularly sneaky. He’s one of the town’s people in the day, avoiding the few people who know what he looks like, and at night he sleeps in an alley. Whatever. The longer his enemies remain oblivious, the better.

It’s night when Maja finds him. He’s thinking, staring into space and running his thumb up and down the sharp edge of his knife. Not pressing down hard enough to make himself bleed, just hard enough to remind himself that he could.

“Excuse me,” she says, accent thick. “Gerard Way?”

Gerard looks up. It doesn’t matter if she’s a cop, an innocent civilian, someone of importance. He could kill her before she had time to scream. She doesn’t look like she poses any threat, though. She’s slight and stony faced- she looks fast. Not strong or dangerous or like she’s about to pull a gun on him. He nods.

She takes a chance and steps closer, further into the alley that is his resting place for the night. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans casually against the brick wall, oozing confidence. Confidence doesn’t scare Gerard, but it gets his attention. “My name is Maja. I read about you in the papers. I came to ask you a question.”

“A question?”

She hesitates a moment, nods. “Yes, a question.”

He waves an impatient hand at her. “Well, what is it?”

“My question is simply… why? Why are you doing this, killing all these people?” Her tone is neither disapproving nor approving, timid nor curious. He can’t tell which emotion drives her.

His gaze drops to her hands when her fingers twitch- he’s understandably wary. He hasn’t seen this woman in town before. Why would she search for him, seek him out to ask a question? It seems ridiculous. He’s still expecting her to pull a weapon. He sighs, asks, “Why do you want to know?”

“Ah,” she drawls, smirking. “I asked you first.”

“I guess you did,” he mumbles, and starts to absently twirl his knife in his fingers. He appreciates the way her eyes follow the movement, ready to bolt should he decide to throw it. “Well, fuck. Mostly just for fun. If I happen to exact my revenge on a few people while I do it, that’s just a bonus.”

This is, apparently, the answer she wanted to here. Her lips stretch up into an absolutely frightening grin, and she suddenly looks so much more capable than she had before. “I don’t guess you’d mind if I tagged along, then? I could get us a decent place to stay.”

Gerard cocks an eyebrow. “Why?”

Maja shrugs. “I like to help out.”

Gerard‘s still skeptical, but- “Sure,” he says. “Lead the way.”

-

“What about… what about--” Ryan squeezes his eyes shut, sighs. “Brendon,” he finishes, and only barely manages to keep his voice steady.

Jon has to think for a minute about the answer to this question. He can’t exactly tell Ryan that Brendon is a ghost and has fallen in love with his blind grandson. He can only imagine how well that would go over. “What about him?”

“Well, I mean.” Ryan gestures half-heartedly at nothing. “Do people still go and visit him? Is he still talked about? I don’t want him to be forgotten, you know?”

“Um… yeah,” Jon says, considers his next sentence very carefully. “People still go and visit him. I haven’t seen it for myself, but. Uh, Gabe told me that he’s still… hanging around and stuff.” He shrugs, palms at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Hanging around,” Ryan repeats, blinking. “Wait. He’s a ghost?” Jon nods and watches as a million different emotions flit across Ryan’s features in the blink of an eye. Surprise, sadness, anger, want. “Oh,” he manages, the syllable bitter in his mouth.

Jon reaches out to, he doesn‘t know, comfort him, but Ryan shakes his head, gently bats Jon’s hand away. “The rain is stopping,” he mumbles, and as if on cue, the battering of the drops on the roof slows and then dies away.

“I’m going to come back,” Jon promises the air.

-

“Oh, hey. Here comes your boy,” Frank giggles, nudging Brendon with his elbow and pointing at Ryan, who is weaving his way easily through tombstones, headed in their direction. “I guess I’ll go.”

Brendon almost tells Frank to stay. Stay, because there’s no telling what he’ll do if he’s alone with Ryan. He might molest the poor kid. Or maybe he’ll slap him, for being so… so goddamn Ryan. But he doesn’t tell Frank to stay, can’t. “’Kay. See you later?”

Frank jumps to his feet, nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, dude. Later.”

Brendon watches as Frank bounds off, a smile on his face. Frank seems so much happier now, which is awesome. Depressed Frank was not awesome. It made Brendon sad.

“Hey,” Ryan says quietly. Brendon looks up, startled. He hadn’t realized Ryan was so close, towering over him, as he’s still lying on the ground. He gets to his feet, dusts himself off.

“Hey,” he returns. It comes out a little more… monotone than he would’ve liked. He coughs. “Uh, what’s up?”

Ryan shrugs, adjusts his sunglasses. “I. It’s just that…” He shakes his head at himself. “Jeremy.”

Brendon frowns, resists the urge to hug Ryan close. And why is it that he can never have what he wants? Why is there always something in his way, keeping him from being happy? He must’ve been a really bad person in a past life or something. Maybe his bad karma’s catching up to him now. “Were you… just with him or what?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out like a sob, even though Ryan isn’t crying.

Brendon thinks, fuck this, and hugs Ryan anyway. Kisses him anyway. Ryan kisses back, in-between Brendon’s promises that he’ll always be there to make the bruises better.

-

An- Fuck this chapter. My Monday chapters always suck. Or maybe I’m just being too hard on myself? Whenever I think a chapter sucks, you guys give great feedback so maybe it’s all in my head? *shrug*

DEDICATED TO roadsidefury. For FC, because she’s amazing, and because she was the first one to see the ~pattern (both Ryan’s are/were in abusive relationships). ILY A LOT JENN. ♥ ♥ ♥

ALSO DEDICATED TO notyourshot, because she so totally CALLED IT.
“(…what if while Brendon and Frank were talking, Ryan was being raped by his jackass of a boyfriend? *shivers*)” She’s officially psychic.

Feedback is lovely, you guys. Seriously.

Remaining Relevant .:Thirteen:.

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 19:39:46 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Thirteen:.
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: “…and I was thinking about leaving. He got Vicky, right? What if he gets me, or you? Or… or someone else,” she slurs, and Gabe tunes back in, having realized he’d zoned out and stopped listening.
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] [12]

Chapter Thirteen

Jon doesn’t think anything’s wrong until he actually glances over at Ryan, and then. Oh. So this isn’t good news? Jon thought it was kind of nice. If he was a ghost, he’d want his family to visit sometimes. Maybe. Probably not.

“What,” Ryan asks, except it doesn’t sound very much like a question. It sounds like an accusation, or a curse. “What are they doing here?”

Jon shrugs and tries not to lean away like he’s anticipating an explosion. That would be rude. “I don’t know? But, um… Shouldn’t this be a good thing? They’re your family and stuff.”

Ryan gives him another look and, seriously, how did Brendon put up with this? “Name one person in this town that doesn’t have family issues.”

Jon thinks for a moment. “Patrick. No, wait. The Daddy stuff. Uh… Vicky- oh, she’s dead. Never mind.” He scratches at his chin, mind coming up blank. It’s amazing how well a town of dysfunctional gay outcasts can actually function. “Okay, I see your point,” he finally admits. “But you’ve never even met your grandson before. How could you have issues with him?”

Ryan doesn’t manage to suppress his shudder at the word ‘grandson’. “Jon,” he says carefully. “This is going to sound… harsh, but I don’t want him to exist.”

Jon blinks. Harsh indeed. “What?”

“I didn’t want a son, either.” Ryan looks fidgety and nervous, and it’s making Jon kind of fidgety and nervous. “It was all this big mistake.” Ryan spreads his hands, palm up, in a helpless gesture. Jon imagines he would be pacing if he weren’t sitting down.

“Okay. Okay, but. Why?”

“Well…” Ryan takes a deep breath, calming his own nerves. His family doesn’t even know about him. He shouldn’t freak out over this. Right. “People weren’t as… accepting of homosexuality in my time as they are now. I couldn’t just come out, so I got married. To a girl. We were both really young and eager to please our parents and she had no idea I was gay. And… then she got pregnant.”

“And you got scared and ran away?” Jon asks when Ryan pauses, a gentle prompt to continue.

Ryan laughs, humorless and dry. “There’s more to it than that. See, she came in all excited, ready to tell me the great news, except… Except I was with someone else.”

“She caught you with another guy?” Jon gasps, eyes wide. He can kind of see why Spencer watches so many soap operas, now. “Wait, you were cheating on her?”

Ryan nods and his narrowed eyes halt any biting comment from Jon in it’s tracks. “Kind of. It wasn’t cheating, exactly. We were poor and I was having trouble finding a job. This guy, Reed, he offered me a lot of money… Enough that I couldn’t turn it down. He wanted to fuck me, I let him, and that’s when she found us. She wasn’t going to leave, though. Not even after I confessed to her that I was gay. She said that as long as I was willing to help her raise the baby, she would stand by my side and keep my secret.

“But I wasn’t. I told her I didn’t want the kid. It wouldn’t have been right, bringing someone up in a family like ours. I felt like the child was cursed, like it was doomed and was dooming me. That’s when she left, told everyone she could that I was gay, and even convinced my parents to disown me. I became Reed’s whore. I moved into this apartment with him, let him control me, push me to the brink. And then I killed myself.”

Jon blinks. “Oh.”

-

“Do you still miss Mikey?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Frank laughs, rolling his eyes and absently breaking off blades of grass, crushing them between his fingers. Brendon is fiddling with the hem of his shirt, looking lost in thought. Which is never good, if you ask Frank. “Of course I still miss him. Always will.”

Brendon licks his lips, glances in the direction of Mikey’s tombstone. “Do you really believe that? Do you think you’ll ever be able to let go?”

“Letting go isn’t what you think it is, dude. Letting go just means you can think of them and smile again. You stop being sad about the things you’ll never get to do together, and start feeling happy about the things you did do together. Or… whatever.” He chuckles at himself good-naturedly. “I’m such a poet, huh?”

Brendon smiles. “Where do you think you guys would be now, if he weren’t… dead?”

Frank purses his lips and hums as he thinks. “I think if he were still alive… we would’ve left town together. I mean, Gerard would still be running around doing what he‘s doing. I’d want to get Mikey out of here before he did die. We‘d come back though. Couldn‘t leave you forever, man.” He grins, showing teeth.

-

Greta’s drunk. Gabe is too, but considerably less so. For once, he’s glad. Now he’ll remember all the things Greta’s saying. She’s a cute drunk. The filter between her brain and her mouth dissolves and she’s one big fountain of adorable randomness, jumping from one subject to another in rapid succession.

“…and I was thinking about leaving. He got Vicky, right? What if he gets me, or you? Or… or someone else,” she slurs, and Gabe tunes back in, having realized he’d zoned out and stopped listening. “I’m thinking I’ll go to a big city. A change of scenery, you know. Gabe, hey.”

He looks over at her, smile tugging on the corners of his lips. He doesn’t think she’s serious. She grew up here, all of her friends are here. Greta is the last person that would ever leave. “What, Greta?”

She waves her hands about for no apparent reason, then crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t believe me,” she whines. “I’m serious here, Gabe. Me and Chris, we’ve already planned it all out.”

“Sure, okay.”

She swats at his arm, misses and ends up hitting the back of the couch. “Shut up. We did. And I want you to come with. You’re from Jersey, right? Maybe we’ll go to… to New York. You’d be close to where you grew up, or something.”

Gabe hums. “I’ll think about it,” he says, humoring her. “No more alcohol for you,” he adds, laughing under his breath. But somehow, going to New York doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

-

An- O hai. Dedicating this chapter to do_or_die621, purely because she’s awesome and I can. Ly, bb.

I’m not even going to apologize for the shortness because you guys should expect it by now. My inability to write anything long kind of sucks, okay.

Feedback is amazing ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Twelve:.

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 19:18:41 GMT

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)

♥

Remaining Relevant .:Eleven:.

Mon, 09 Jun 2008 19:03:53 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Eleven:.
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: “Brendon,” Ryan interrupts, lips twisted into a cross between a smirk and a smile. “Why are you rambling about sex?”
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]

Chapter Eleven

Sure, Brendon’s dead, but the cemetery still kind of freaks him out at night. He’s never run into another ghost, so it’s kind of silly, but the noises. It seems like the wind always picks up just after the sun sets, which makes for this creaky whistling noise as the air rushes through the tree limbs. The white light of the moon doesn’t help much, only serves to make everything seem that much creepier.

Ryan kind of looks pretty cast in pale light, silhouetted against the black sky, though. He’s calling Brendon’s name, moving slowly so he doesn’t trip over headstones. Even if he could see, he wouldn’t see much. It’s like all the stars disappeared from the sky, and the moon is only a crescent., which makes for minimal light.

Despite this, Brendon can see perfectly. Or, not quite perfectly. He can see more now than he could when he was alive, anyway. He misses his awful, normal vision more than could possibly be healthy.

“Brendon, goddamnit. I know you hear me.”

“Over here,” he calls, loud enough to be heard over the whistles and creaks of the wind and trees. Ryan hesitates, bites his lip, and Brendon gets it. He laughs, light and short. “Coming,” he mumbles, correcting himself.

Ryan holds out his hand expectantly when Brendon reaches him, and Brendon can’t refuse Ryan anything, apparently. He grips Ryan’s hand in his and ignores the sharp twist in his gut. “I’m sorry,” Ryan says slowly, like he‘s trying to make sure Brendon understands. “I should’ve told you about Jeremy. I didn’t want.” He stops abruptly, then starts again with a new sentence. “I don’t like him.”

“Oh, that’s. Okay. That’s nice to know. I kind of already figured that, though. Unless you like it rough? I mean, that’s cool too. You just didn’t seem like the type to me. They do say that the quiet ones are always the wildest, however. You’re pretty quiet--”

“Brendon,” Ryan interrupts, lips twisted into a cross between a smirk and a smile. “Why are you rambling about sex?”

Brendon laughs shakily, scrubs his free hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s all the stress from the past two days getting to me, probably. Also, you have bruises on your wrists and I’m wondering if they hurt and what else he’s done to you and how I can lure him into the cemetery so I can kick his ass. You bring out my protective side, Ross.”

“Your rambly side too, apparently.”

Brendon laughs, toes the ground nervously. “That too,” he agrees. There’s slight hesitation before he asks, “Why don’t you just break up with him? What’s the worst he could do to you? Wouldn’t anything be better than…” he trails of, absently runs his thumb across the purple and blue ring around Ryan’s bony wrists.

Ryan shrugs. “I guess I feel bad for him. I’m all he has left, and he loves me.”

“Would you ever hit anyone you love?” Brendon asks sharply. And then sighs, shakes his head at himself. “No, don’t answer that. Of course you wouldn’t. No one would, unless they were seriously messed up in the head.”

“Brendon, I can’t just… leave him. I don’t like him, or love him, but.” He stops again, ducks his head and blushes, his grip on Brendon’s hand loosening just a bit.

“But what?” Brendon prompts gently.

“But he’s alive.”

“Oh. Okay. So…” Brendon drops Ryan’s hand. His subconscious might’ve guessed, but hearing the equivalent of ‘you’re dead’ said out loud is a blow he hadn’t really prepared himself for. “I’m… sorry I’m too dead for you, Ryan.”

“No, no Brendon. We’re not doing this again. I came here to apologize, not to upset you. Come on, listen.” Ryan reaches out, trying to find Brendon’s hand again. He finds his sleeve, grabs onto it instead, just to make sure Brendon’s still there with him. “I like you, a lot. I’m going to keep coming to this damn cemetery to see you until I can’t anymore. But that’s just it. I’m not going to be around forever.”

Brendon sighs. “You’re just confusing me. You like me, but… But one day you’re going to have to leave, which is why you’re keeping Jeremy around?”

Ryan nods. “Jeremy’s promised me a place to live, once I turn twenty-one.”

“In return for sexual favors?” Brendon snaps. “In return for abusing you? Fuck that. He’s hurting you.”

“I know that,” Ryan says calmly. “I know that, and I don’t care. I’m going to leave him as soon as I can, Brendon, believe me. Right now, though, I need him on my side.”

Something clicks and Brendon’s eyes widen. “Wait, you’re leaving? When you turn twenty-one?”

Ryan bites his lip, nods slowly. “Yeah.” After several seconds of Brendon’s silence, Ryan pulls him closer, opens his arms like he wants a hug. Brendon gets the hint, wraps his arms around Ryan’s waist and strokes a hand through Ryan’s hair.

“We should at least enjoy each other’s company until then, right?” Brendon says, because he doesn’t have the guts to ask Ryan to stay with him forever.

“Right,” Ryan agrees, breath warm against Brendon’s neck when he speaks. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

-

Greta works in the coffee shop, and Gabe loves her. Not like Vicky-T loves her, but. She’s awesome and she’s been taking care of him since William died. The two used to work the same shifts and were pretty good friends, and now she does everything in her power to make sure Gabe smiles. If that means giving him free coffee and having pleasant conversation, then so be it.

When they talk, they’re both careful to avoid the topic of William. For obvious reasons. But sometimes they forget and say things like, “I miss William”, or “Bill’s happy now, right?”

Whenever Gabe asks her that question, Greta just smiles and assures him that, yes. Of course Bill is happy, because Gabe hasn’t forgotten him. And Gabe will always swear that he never will. Which is probably the truth.

But then one day… One day Greta shows up on Gabe’s door step, crying and drenched from the rain. And it’s her turn to ask, “Vicky’s happy now, right?” And Gabe knows what happened immediately.

Gerard happened. Again. And now someone else he loves is gone.

-

An- I was kind of blocked. I don’t like the way this one turned out, but I need to get it out of the way so I can be un-blocked. If that makes any sense.

Feedback is lovely ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Ten:.

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 21:42:49 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Ten:.
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: Brendon takes a deep breath, smoothes his features over, and turns to Jeremy. “We’re just friends, right.”
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]

Chapter Ten

“Your… Your what?” Brendon breathes, and he suddenly feels very lightheaded. Incredibly so. He might even faint, if he weren’t dead. As it is, he only wobbles slightly on his feet. “Ryan… Ryan, why?”

The corners of Ryan’s mouth turn down. His cheeks are pink, like he’s embarrassed, but his hands shake like he’s scared. “Brendon, I’m sorry. It’s just that--”

“Shut up, Ryan,” Ryan’s boyfriend barks, arms still crossed over his chest, glare now directed at Ryan. “You don’t owe him an explanation. You owe me one. Did you think that just because I was away you could go and jump into someone else’s bed?”

Ryan starts to shake his head back and forth rapidly, still wringing his hands like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Brendon’s breathing is shallow, and it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t need oxygen, because it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his lungs. “Jeremy, no. It’s n-not like that. Me and Brendon are j-just friends.” Ryan turns to Brendon, and his voice is pleading. “Right, Brendon? Tell him.”

Brendon wishes he could say that they aren’t just friends, except that they are. They’d never made anything official, never been out on a date. And Brendon’s dead, all they can-- should ever be is ‘just friends’.

Brendon takes a deep breath, smoothes his features over, and turns to Jeremy. “We’re just friends, right.”

Jeremy cocks a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then what was that kiss, huh?” Brendon opens his mouth to tell Jeremy that it wasn’t anything, it didn’t mean anything (because apparently it didn’t), but he doesn’t get the chance. Jeremy just shakes his head, bangs falling into his eyes. “He’s mine, fucker. Just keep your fucking hands off.”

“Brendon,” Ryan whispers, suddenly much closer than he had been a few second ago. Close enough that Brendon can hear his mumbled whispering. “Jeremy. He’s… he’s the one who--”

“Ryan, come here,” Jeremy says, and it’s obviously an order.

Ryan cringes, actually cringes and. And Brendon’s heart breaks a little. If that’s possible. Could a heart that’s not beating break?

Ryan doesn’t move for a second, and then he only takes a hesitant step toward Jeremy. Brendon can’t figure out if it’s because he’s dreading being close enough to touch his boyfriend, or if he doesn’t know in which direction to go. Either way, Jeremy gets fed up and grabs Ryan’s wrist, fingers wrapped tightly enough that it’s going to bruise, and tugs the boy in close to his side protectively.

With one last glare at Brendon over his shoulder, Jeremy and Ryan depart, Ryan being tugged helplessly along.

Brendon feels like a complete idiot when, some half hour later, he figures out the end of Ryan’s sentence.

-

Frank comes to see Brendon the next day. His presence doesn’t cheer Brendon up any (he’s been moping since Ryan left, feeling sorry for himself, but mostly feeling sorry for Ryan).

“Dude,” Frank says, nudging Brendon’s foot with his own. They’re seated on one of the benches, placed randomly throughout the large cemetery. And Brendon hasn’t been listening to a word Frank’s said. “Dude,” Frank says again, this time putting for emphasis into the word and into his nudge.

“Hm?” Brendon asks, sitting up straighter and trying to look like he’s been listening the whole time. Then he bites his lip and ducks his head again. “Sorry, Frankie. I keep spacing out on you.”

Frank sighs heavily, flicks Brendon in the side of the head. “Tell me what’s wrong, asshat.”

Brendon doesn’t even have the energy to look offended. He just shrugs and makes a few half-hearted gestures. He’s not sure he should tell Frank. But… if he can’t help Ryan, someone’s got to, right? But maybe it would be better if he just waited. Ryan will come back when Jeremy leaves, and he can talk about it with him then.

Despite himself, Brendon says, “Ryan has a boyfriend.”

Frank understands immediately, wrapping his arm around Brendon’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “Aw, Bren. That sucks.”

Brendon nods against Frank’s shoulder helplessly. And he is helpless. There’s nothing he can do for Ryan if he’s stuck here. “You know what sucks even harder? His boyfriend abuses him. I mean, he’s blind, Frank. You just. You don’t abuse blind people, right?”

Frank goes suspiciously still. “How do you know?” he asks slowly, and Brendon can’t decide if he sounds upset or curious.

“Ryan told me. Or, uh. Tried to tell me.”

“Fuck,” Frank breathes.

-

So, maybe it’s not Frank’s place to pry. He barely knows Ryan, he has no right to know anything about Ryan’s private life. Not to mention, he’s deliberately disregarding Brendon’s request that he not talk to Ryan about this.

But that doesn’t stop him from going to Ryan’s house, knocking on the door, and then inviting himself inside when said door is opened.

It’s just Ryan, looking tired and a little sad, but generally unharmed. The Ross house is small and dark and kind of cluttered. Frank can hear the TV on in the other room, someone talking over the TV, probably on the phone.

“Is your boyfriend still around?” Frank asks, unable to decide if it’s sex hair Ryan’s sporting, or bedhead.

Ryan tilts his head in the direction of the TV noises, says, “No. But, uh. Let’s go to my room. My Dad’s home.” Ryan doesn’t wait for any sort of response before he starts off down a hallway, one hand flat against the wall, using it as a guide of sorts. They duck into the first room on the left, clearly Ryan’s.

Ryan finds his way effortlessly to the bed (Frank momentarily wonders how long it took him to memorize the house, and if he ever still walks into walls or something) and takes a seat. This is when Frank notices that Ryan’s not wearing sunglasses. Before he can stop himself, he’s saying, “Wow, you have pretty eyes.” And, ugh. That sounded too much like he was flirting.

Ryan’s lips curl into a teasing smirk. “Did you come here to hit on me, Frank? Because, as you already know, I’m taken.”

Frank shakes his head at himself. “Uh, no. No, I came here because.” He stops. How does he say this? “I’m here because Brendon thinks you’re being… hit. By your boyfriend. And, you know. If I’m wrong, you can totally smack me or something. That’s a huge accusation, and I wouldn’t even be here, prying into your business if Brendon hadn’t asked me to, so you should probably smack him, also … Just sayin’.”

Ryan freezes, goes rigid. “Um, Frank… What are you planning to do if I tell you that you’re right?”

Frank hesitates. He has no clue. “I have no clue. I could kick his ass next time I see him? Get Gabe to help? Gabe is a good asskicker, you know.”

“It’s. You can’t just…” Ryan sighs, runs a hand through his hair, only serving to further ruffle it up. “That won’t scare him away. Listen, Frank. He only comes around every once in a while. He lives in the next state over, so I don‘t see him often. It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s why I didn’t tell Brendon.”

“You should’ve told him, or you should at least go back and talk to him now. He’s crushed, Ryan.”

Ryan shrugs, as close as he’s going to get to admitting he was wrong. “Sure. I’ll… I’ll go back tonight, after my Dad’s gone, okay?”

Frank crosses his arms, gives Ryan his best intimidating stare (never mind that Ryan can’t see it. It’s so intense that he can probably feel it… Or so Frank hopes). “If I find out that you don’t go tonight, then I’ll be forced to…” He falters for a second. “… do bad things to you,” he finishes lamely, and Ryan chuckles.

-

An- A semi-filler! That I wrote five minutes ago after getting about an hour of sleep the past two days! Sorry for the major suckage, but you guys didn’t want to wait until Monday for another update, right?

Dedicating this chapter to one of my close irl friends, Jeremy. I borrowed his appearance and bitchiness, though he'd never actually lay a finger on anyone. ~~(Sorry for making you abusive in my fic, bb).~~

Feedback makes my heart happy ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Nine:.

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 20:18:45 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Nine:.
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: “Oh,” Spencer says, genuinely surprised. But then he grimaces because oh, he should’ve realized. “I’m the bait, aren’t I?”
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]

Chapter Nine

“Hey, fuck, you don’t have to be so rough,” Spencer snaps when Gerard shoves him into the apartment and he nearly lands on his face. “I’m going quietly, aren’t I?”

“Not quietly enough for my tastes,” Gerard mumbles, and then he’s jerking Spencer up by his hair again and flinging him onto the sofa. The stupid, red velvet sofa that’s all lumpy and still has Brendon’s jacket tossed over the back of it like he still lives there. And, okay, Spencer never purposely sniffed Brendon or anything, but the entire place smells like him, if a little mustier, and it makes Spencer overwhelmingly sad all of a sudden.

“I can’t believe you’re able to come up here after what you did.” Spencer tries to sound angry, or accusing, but it just comes out sounding kind of flat and monotone. He tries to remember if it was supposed to rain today. It’s cloudy, but he can’t decide if they look like rain clouds or not. Rain would be really nice right now.

Gerard snorts. He’s shuffling around near the desk, flicking through random stacks of papers and books. Maybe he’s looking for something, Spencer isn’t sure. He could just be nosy. “You act like I did it on purpose.”

Spencer grits his teeth. “You did. You are so not about to tell me it was an accident.”

Gerard pauses, glances over his shoulder at Spencer, face expressionless. Spencer meets his gaze, trying his best to look brave and stubborn and angry despite his bound hands and utter helplessness. Gerard shrugs, turns back to the desk, this time opening drawers and looking inside. “I was aiming for Frank.”

Spencer scoffs. “Yeah, because that makes it better. I’m rather attached to Frank too, you know.”

Spencer can’t see it, but Gerard grins. “Oh, I know.”

Spencer licks his dry lips and frowns at the back of Gerard’s head. Several seconds of silence pass before he asks, “So, what’re you looking for?” because he honestly has no idea how to reply to that.

“Phone book,” Gerard mumbles, and then adds, “Ah-ha!” as he, apparently, finds it.

Spencer laughs once, short and humorless. “What are you going to do, order a pizza?” Oh, God, would it be nice if that was all Gerard was doing. But, seriously, who is he going to call? Jon? Gabe? Spencer starts to shake a little without meaning to. But, fuck, this is a fucking scary situation. He’s allowed to be a bit of a wimp.

Gerard leans back against the desk and starts flicking through the phonebook, answering Spencer absentmindedly. “Frank.”

“Oh,” Spencer says, genuinely surprised. But then he grimaces because oh, he should’ve realized. “I’m the bait, aren’t I?”

Gerard grins again as he finds Frank’s number, pulls out his cellphone, and starts to dial. This is answer enough for Spencer, who starts to shake a little harder, maybe. He totally does not want to cry, either.

Just as Gerard hit’s the call button, three things happen. Not simultaneously, but in such rapid succession that it seems that way.

There is a tap. A tap that Spencer is familiar with, having worked downstairs in the bookstore for several years. It’s the tap of the first raindrop hitting the roof, a sound that is quickly followed by more taps, until there’s so many you can’t distinguish one from the rest of them. It’s just a roar of water coming down on top of you.

Then there is stomping on the stairs and then the door knob is rattling. Jon is calling out Spencer’s name and Gerard is cursing.

And then, Ryan’s feet touch the floor, and he swings a fist straight into Gerard’s jaw.

Gerard drops the phone and stumbles backward, clutching at his face. Ryan snatches up the phone just as Gabe picks the lock on the door and he and Jon rush inside. Jon doesn’t even take proper time to assess the situation before he’s running to Spencer, untying his hands in a hurry. Gabe is more thoughtful, and instead moves toward Gerard, grabbing him before he can reach for his knife or make an escape.

“Frank, Frank,” Ryan says into the phone when the boy picks up. “Call the police. Give them the apartment address and tell them to hurry the fuck up. Gerard’s here.” With that, he snaps the phone shut and tosses it to Spencer, who uses his newly freed hands to catch it and pocket it.

“Motherfucker,” Gerard hisses at Ryan, struggling against Gabe uselessly. “Where the fuck did you even come from? I already fucking shot you once.”

Ryan cocks an eyebrow. “So you do recognize me, then? Well, good.” He doesn’t answer Gerard’s question, turns to Jon instead. “How did you know to come here?”

Jon shrugs, tilts his head at Gabe, who also shrugs. “It doesn’t matter,” Spencer says matter-of-factly. “You’re here, oh my god. I didn’t even know you were coming back today.”

Jon grins, leans down to plant a feather-light kiss on Spencer’s lips. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” He drapes an arm across Spencer’s shoulders and pulls him closer. “I’m just glad you’re alright. God, I almost wrecked about a million times on the way here.”

“How touching,” Gerard snaps. He twists just the right way and manages to close his fingers around the knife at his belt. He flicks it at just the right angle that it catches Gabe on the arm and makes Gabe yelp and pull away, clutching at the fresh cut.

-

Jon to talks to the police when they arrive, explains what happened. Gerard got away- jumped out the freaking window. He wasn’t injured, unfortunately. He used handholds in the bricks to climb down, and then he ran. To where? Jon has no idea.

Frank shows up about the same time as the police. “What happened?” he asks Gabe, looking anxious. “No one’s hurt, right?”

“Nah.” Gabe waves a hand about, like he’s trying to tell Frank it wasn’t a big deal. “We’re all okay. Gerard got away, but fuck if I wasn’t expecting it. If that kid can break out of a hospital, there‘s nothing he can‘t do.”

“What happened?” Frank presses, feeling a little queasy at Gabe’s words.

Gabe leans back in his chair, props his feet up on the table as he explains what happened in as few sentences as possible. Frank has no idea how he can be so calm all the time, but the way Gabe talks, like it happened to someone else forever ago, allows Frank to take a deep breath and calm himself down, too.

“Do you… do you think he’ll try it again?”

Gabe shrugs, fingering the hole in his hoodie where Gerard’s knife went through. “Maybe. It probably won’t be Spencer next time, though.”

Frank sighs, sinks down into a chair. Well, that’s something. At least Spencer should be okay.

-

“What was he like?”

Ryan and Brendon are sprawled on the ground, Brendon lying on his back with Ryan curled into his side, head on his chest. Brendon’s discovered that Ryan likes to touch. It’s mostly all innocent. He likes to touch because he can’t see, wants to know if Brendon is still there with him. Brendon doesn’t blame him.

Brendon hums, tilts his head to the side a little as he glances down at Ryan. “Who?”

“My grandfather.”

“Oh.” Brendon purses his lips as he considers the question. Then, he laughs a little. “He was a moody bitch.”

Ryan smiles, asks his next question a little hesitantly. “Why’d you love him?”

“Why does anyone love anyone? I just… I cared about him, right away. Not because he was a ghost, or because he was pretty. There was just something about him, you know?”

They lapse into silence. A comfortable silence, both of them oblivious as to what’s going on in town- Spencer’s kidnapping. But they’d rather not know, anyway.

“Does that mean I’m pretty too?” Ryan asks slowly. It’s not a serious question. He just kind of wants to see what Brendon will say.

Brendon chuckles, nods. “Oh, yeah. You are the prettiest, Ryan Ross.”

“If you say so,” Ryan grins, leaning up to plant on a kiss on Brendon’s lips.

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing?” someone yells, coming toward them. Brendon and Ryan both jump, and then Ryan’s rolling off Brendon and getting to his feet.

Brendon stands too, squinting at the newcomer. It’s a guy that couldn’t be much older than him, with black hair and brown eyes. He’s tall and lean and okay, yeah. Hot. Brendon feels an inexplicable flair of jealousy, even though he was the one just holding Ryan in his arms. Ryan can’t even see the guy, so why should he be worried about it?

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy demands, glaring at Brendon.

Brendon crosses his arms over his chest huffily. “I’d like to ask you the same thing.”

Ryan clears his throat awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot and wringing his hands together. “Brendon,” he almost whispers, sounding scared. “Brendon, this is my boyfriend.”

-

An- Cliffhanger, omg! Did I forget to mention the OC? …My bad ;)
Also, I'm sorry for any typo's I missed. I just did a quick read-through on this one.

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Really ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Eight:.

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 18:12:14 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Eight:.
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: First Mikey, and then Pete, and then William and who would be next but Spencer?
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]

Chapter Eight

Spencer can’t honestly say he wasn’t expecting it. He’s noticed the pattern. The murderer is killing people off in order. In order of how close they were to Brendon (or maybe to Frank. That’s the one thing Spencer’s not certain of).

First Mikey, and then Pete, and then William and who would be next but Spencer?

It’s for that very reason that Spencer’s been extra cautious lately. Extra cautious entails carrying a knife and a cell-phone at all times, not going out at night, and making sure his doors are always locked. Sure, he might expect it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t underestimate it. Him. The murderer. Gerard.

Gerard is sneaky and cunning and observant. He catches Spencer the one time Spencer doesn’t have a knife, doesn’t have the doors locked, isn’t prepared- when he’s in the bookstore in the middle of the day.

He’s just dusting shelves and rearranging books (he wants the place to be nice, just like it was, when Jon comes back) and minding his own business. The bells over the door chime, but Spencer thinks nothing of it. Gabe was supposed to be coming to help him out, it’s probably just him.

He thinks different when a gloved hand clamps over his mouth, and cool metal presses into his neck. He yelps and squirms and tries to kick out behind himself, but Gerard grabs one of his arms and twists it. Twists it until it feels like it might snap. Spencer whimpers, the noise muffled by Gerard’s hand, and stops struggling.

“You‘re coming with me. You will not struggle and you will not scream, do you understand?”

Gerard’s breath smells like cigarette smoke and coffee as it ghosts over Spencer’s face, the words hissed into his ear. Spencer shakes his head, being stubborn. He’d rather die than go with this evil man. Or so he tells himself.

“Isn‘t Gabe stopping by soon, Spencer?” Gerard asks, the smirk audible in his voice. The edge of the knife digs into Spencer’s neck just a little bit harder. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to get the point across.

Spencer swallows, mind racing. What will Gerard to do Gabe? Could Gabe take Gerard? Should Spencer take that chance? Should he just go with Gerard and spare Gabe the trouble?

“You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Gerard asks, and his voice is sickly sweet.

Spencer maybe takes too long to reply, because Gerard huffs and next thing he knows, he’s being dragged by his hair to the back of the bookstore. No, not the back. To the steps. Gerard’s taking him into the apartment?

“Stand up,” Gerard barks once they reach the foot of the stairs. Spencer doesn’t even hesitate, just scrambles to his feet. No way does he want Gerard to drag him up the stairs, too.

“What do you know about the ghost?” Gerard asks, standing squarely in front of Spencer and giving him this look. This look that means Spencer had better tell him the damn truth.

“Nothing,” Spencer answers, and it’s almost honest. His eyes flick over Gerard’s features. He’s seen the guy before- pictures that Mikey or Frank had, and then in the newspapers. He looks… different now. Tired and angry and older.

Gerard cocks an eyebrow and Spencer sighs. “Nothing that would be useful to you,” he amends. “Just that the paintings on the walls are his and that he’ll be pissed if we go up there.”

Gerard hums. “So he does exist. Thought so, clueless fuckers,” he mumbles to himself, and then he’s pulling his blue scarf from around his neck and is twisting Spencer’s arms again, until Spencer’s hands are tied securely behind his back.

“On we go,” he says, and shoves Spencer hard from behind, up the stairs. Spencer thinks about making a break for it, but the point of the knife being pressed into his back convinces him not to. He goes quietly and just hopes that a miracle occurs and he makes it out alive.

-

Jon is just getting out of his car, door open and one foot on the ground, when suddenly something is pushing on his shoulders and trying to stuff him back in the car.

“Wha--” Jon flails around, pushing back against Gabe.

Gabe shakes his head, eyes wide and shoves persistent. “No, no. Get back in the car, goddamnit. Spencer’s in trouble”

This catches Jon’s attention. He stops trying to shove Gabe away and pulls his foot back into the car, motions for Gabe to jump in the passenger’s seat. “Where at?” he asks when Gabe is sliding into the car and buckling his seat belt.

“Bookstore,” Gabe says immediately. Jon slams his door shut and puts the car in reverse.

“How do you know?” Jon wonders out loud, pausing just long enough to glance curiously at Gabe.

Gabe shrugs, mumbles, “Just a feeling.”

-

An- This chapter is too short for anyone’s good, forgive me. I’ve been sick for the past couple days (just a bad cold) and this is half-assed. But I didn’t want to wait forever to put up a new chapter, so.

ALSO, OMG. THIS IS AMAZING. THIS IS justhush‘s GHOST!FLUFF. GO READ IT RIGHT NAO. I LINKED YOU TWICE SO YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE.

*cough*

Feedback is lovely ♥

with me tonight

Fri, 30 May 2008 19:24:39 GMT

Title: with me tonight
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third
Summary: They take one backpack. A camera, a notebook, and five-hundred dollars tucked inside. It isn’t enough, it won’t ever be. Waiting isn’t something they do, though. Waiting and wishing are useless, and the sun hasn’t even risen yet when they start walking.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION. Title belongs to The Used.
Author Notes: Based heavily on a dream I had a few nights ago. I felt like writing it down, and then writing it down turned into writing fic, and. This happened. I’ll let you decide what it means. Feedback is greatly appreciated ♥

They take one backpack. A camera, a notebook, and five-hundred dollars tucked inside. It isn’t enough, it won’t ever be. Waiting isn’t something they do, though. Waiting and wishing are useless, and the sun hasn’t even risen yet when they start walking.

-

Ryan walks with his guitar slung across his back. When there’s nothing else to listen to, he’ll play. Brendon whistle’s along and counts his steps, starts over at zero whenever it feels appropriate.

Brendon keeps glancing at his watch, like the time even matters anymore. The quiet ticking is driving him mad. He can hear every second that passes, every moment sounds much louder than it is, and eventually Ryan grabs the clock and stomps on it until the ticking stops. He smiles and long fingers replace the watch band around Brendon’s bony wrist.

The seconds are still loud in Brendon’s ears and they walk until the sky is pink, and then they sleep on the grass and get wet from the dew.

Brendon starts over at zero a lot.

-

Sometimes, Ryan feels like they actually have a point. When his legs are aching from walking too far and his lips are bruised from kissing Brendon too hard. Those are the times when he feels okay. Those are the times when he feels like there’s a destination, more than a journey and a bundle of memories waiting to be forgotten.

He takes a lot of pictures. Of everything, but mostly of Brendon. He deletes the ones where Brendon looks sad, or thoughtful, or tired, or anything but happy.

Somehow, he never runs out of room on the memory card.

-

“Fifth city,” Brendon mumbles, and it’s not even technically a city. It’s a cluster of old buildings that have fallen into disrepair, and a cluster of old people that have fallen into age. Into time. It’s a trap, and Brendon swallows, starts over at zero again.

“Come on,” Ryan says, tugging at the hem of Brendon’s shirt and sounding annoyed. “Stop counting.”

Six, Brendon thinks as they take another step toward the crumbling piles of bricks that are probably houses. “Sorry, sorry.”

-

They spend some of their money on cheeseburgers when they reach the next big city. They’d been surviving on trail mix and beef jerky up until then.

Ryan pulls out the notebook when he’s finished eating. It’s already half full, words from both Brendon and Ryan scribbled on the pages. Brendon’s thoughts, what he writes about. None of it seems to follow any sort of pattern. Brendon jumps from subject to subject, most of his sentences only half-finished.

Ryan takes more time. He always gets his point across- he always has a point. Maybe no one besides Brendon will ever know where he’s going, but maybe that’s okay, because Brendon understands. Brendon understands why he needs this.

“When are we going back?” Brendon asks when Ryan’s pencil pauses, still hovering over the page.

Ryan shrugs. “Soon,” he mumbles, and then starts to write again. He hears Brendon sigh, but the subject isn’t pushed any further.

-

“It’s not who I am, it’s not who I wanted to be.”

They are somewhere, anywhere, nowhere, elsewhere. They are pretending like they aren‘t keeping track anymore. It’s night, and the stars are bright, and they aren’t moving anytime soon. Not when they can stay here forever. No one will miss them, should miss them, could miss them.

Brendon nods like he understands and threads their fingers together. Calloused palm against calloused palm. Thirty-three days and millions of footsteps away from home.

“I’m giving up on everyone but us.”

Brendon smiles, closes his eyes and thinks that he’s just fine with that.

-

Brendon wants to go home, Ryan can see it in his eyes. In the way he stares wistfully out at the endless stretch of grassy plains, seeing nothing but the smiling face of his mother, if Ryan had to guess.

Ryan can’t understand how Brendon is still able to think of it as home. It’s isn’t home.

Even so, Ryan misses familiarity. He misses his room, and Brendon’s room, and his books, and his music. He misses Spencer a little bit, too, and Spencer‘s mom‘s homemade cookies.

Brendon takes Ryan’s guitar from him and starts to play as they walk. His melodies are like his thoughts, only half finished and very random. But pretty and effortlessly happy, energetic.

Ryan starts to cry when he realizes that home is still home to him, after all.

-

“One-hundred nineteen,” Brendon says aloud, and skips forward. “One-hundred twenty.”

He’s taken to counting out loud lately. The counting keeps him and Ryan on the same beat, the same step. It keeps them together, in a way. Ryan doesn’t say anything, but Brendon knows Ryan finds his inexplicable need to fill every silence with sound adorable.

“One-hundred twenty-one-” Brendon stops short, Ryan’s fingers wrapped around his forearm, holding him back. “What is it?” he asks, eyebrows pulled together.

“We’ll go back when you get to one-thousand,” Ryan says, and that’s that.

Brendon fights with himself, but starts over at zero three times that day. They don’t reach one-thousand before they are sleeping on the side of the road.

-

Brendon reaches one-thousand five days later. They’re in the south. It’s humid, and rainy, and everyone they pass on the street waves to them. Some of them grimace when Ryan kisses Brendon, or Brendon kisses Ryan, or they notice their laced fingers. But everyone is nice enough not to say anything.

“One-thousand,” Brendon says, and then grins at Ryan, showing teeth. Ryan smiles too, because maybe he really does miss home. Home and all the problems that are waiting there for him. Those problems need to be solved. He can’t run away from them. He can’t drag Brendon along behind him, either.

“Let’s go home.”

Brendon nods, whispers, “Let’s be brave.”

FIN

Remaining Relevant .:Seven:.

Wed, 28 May 2008 18:57:27 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Seven:.
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: “Hey, what? I didn’t think you’d be upset…”
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]

Chapter Seven

Three days pass without any sign of Ryan. Brendon paces back and forth in front of his tombstone the entire time, telling himself over and over that Ryan has to come back. Surely he’ll realize that Brendon likes him and that he’s being silly? Brendon really regrets not chasing after Ryan, now.

Either Ryan does not, in fact, realize this or something is keeping him from coming back, because he doesn’t. Late in the afternoon on the third day, after Brendon has stopped pacing and has settled uncomfortably on the ground, Frank comes to visit him. And he looks… mad?

“Where are you, Brendon?” Frank asks- demands, actually. Brendon has no intentions of revealing himself now, but he is curious. Who told Frank he was still hanging around? Gabe, probably. “Dude, I know you’re here. Fucking ghost. I can’t believe you didn’t trust me.”

This catches Brendon’s attention (he can’t believe Frank thinks Brendon didn’t trust him. If there was one person in town that Brendon trusted more than anyone, it was Frank) and, with a sigh, he gets to his feet. Frank jumps only a little at Brendon’s sudden appearance, and then the anger flies out the window and he’s tackle hugging Brendon to the ground.

Brendon squirms and mumbles something about ouch, damn it Frankie before Frank is stood up again and is holding out a hand to help his friend up too. “Brendon!” he practically squeals once they‘re standing. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet and he just looks so excited… Brendon’s missed him. He smiles.

“Hey, Frank,” he says, somewhat shyly. Because, well. This is an awkward situation. A situation he never thought he’d be in in a million years. “Uh, who told you?”

Frank cocks and eyebrow. “Maybe I figured it out for myself.”

Brendon laughs. “Yeah, except for the part where you totally didn’t. Come on, who told you?” He leans forward to gently nudge Frank with his elbow. He hopes to avoid the ‘you don’t trust me enough to tell me you’re a ghost’ talk for as long as possible.

Frank laughs too. He’s still kind of staring at Brendon like he can’t believe the boy is standing in front of him, actually solid and- well, not exactly breathing. But.

“Okay, you caught me. Ryan told me.” He watches Brendon’s eyes closely, and frowns when some of the previous spark goes out of them. “Hey, what? I didn’t think you’d be upset…”

“Oh, I’m not. I mean, I’m kind of glad that you know and all. It’s just… he knew I didn’t want to tell you. Because I thought you’d get over me faster…?” Brendon stares at his shoes as he says it, trying to be careful not to offend Frank or bring the subject back to ‘you don’t trust me’.

“First of all,” Frank starts, holding up one finger as he talks. “How could he have known? He told me he hasn’t seen you since… Since, uh. You know. Your death.” Seeing that Brendon is about to interrupt, he pointedly holds up a second finger. “Second of all, get over you faster? The fuck did you get that idea?”

Brendon scratches the back of his neck absently as he considers Frank’s words. Not since his death? But Frank couldn’t possibly have talked to the ghost… And if he had, surely Ryan would’ve kept his mouth shut?

Or maybe not. He frowns to himself. Maybe he’s been away from his Ryan for too long. Of course Ryan would’ve told Frank everything, if just because he thought the news would upset him. Ryan never did like Frank much…

“Are you… Are you talking about my, uh. Ex-boyfriend? He’s the one who told you?” Brendon totally doesn’t cringe at the word ‘boyfriend’. He’s never liked it. It never fit him and Ryan, anyway. He likes to think they were above that.

Frank nods, and then frowns. “By the way, the new kid knew before me? Ugh, you suck.” He says it playfully though, like he doesn’t actually mind all that much.

Brendon holds up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t tell him. He figured it out, dude. Not even kidding.”

“Wow,” Frank mumbles. “I should’ve known. Oh my God, I’m so oblivious.”

Brendon doesn’t bother to disagree. Instead, he says, “So, Ryan told you, huh? How did that happen? Why were you up in the apartment?” Something clicks and he realizes that, oh. This must’ve happened when it rained three days ago. Frank must’ve been speaking to Ryan when Brendon confessed he’d been fucking the ghost in his apartment. He almost laughs.

“Not sure. Basically, he just sat me down and told me everything. How he died, your relationship, what was going on when Gerard showed up, and the blanks just kind of started to fill in. Like why you actually canceled on me that time we almost went on a date- because of him. And why he was only ever around when it rained. Etcetera. You know the rest.”

Brendon has an internal debate with himself. Should he apologize for keeping so many secrets from Frank? He feels justified in keeping those secrets though. No one needed to know he was… is in love with a ghost. No one needs to know that he himself is a ghost. “Wow,” he mumbles instead. “You saw Ryan.” He’s understandably jealous. It sucks.

“Yeah,” Frank sighs. “I did. Why doesn’t he like me? I never did anything to him.”

“Except almost steal his boyfriend,” Brendon points out, remembering that one time Ryan almost attacked Frank with a smile on his face. It hadn’t been something he could laugh about then…

“Ha, yeah. Except that.” Frank grins, and Brendon starts to feel a little bit better about being dead.

-

Brendon totally doesn’t even hear Ryan approach, which is fucked. He’s supposed to be the one sneaking up on Ryan, who is blind. Not the other way around.

But he turns on his heel, pacing again early the next morning, and comes face to face with Ryan. Literally face to face. So close that Brendon could lean forward two inches and brush their lips together.

“It’s weird,” Ryan starts, and he must know how close he is to Brendon, because his voice is low and he’s smirking just a little bit, an almost anxious quirk of the lips. “But I missed you.” This last part is said sincerely, bashfully, and a light blush rises onto Ryan’s cheeks. Brendon can’t help but smile. He reaches out to take Ryan’s hand in his.

“I missed you too,” he admits confidently. He had, and Ryan needs to know that. “A lot. I… I don’t just talk to you because of your grandfather, Ryan.”

“I know.” Ryan’s voice is still low, and when he licks his lips, it takes all of Brendon’s will power to keep himself from closing the gap between them and kissing Ryan until both their lips are bruised. The feeling scares him, because a part of him is still firmly attached to his Ryan. A part of him will always belong with his first love, he supposes. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions and stuff. I’ve just never met anybody who would just accept me like you have.” He squeezes Brendon’s hand lightly, bites his lip. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Brendon says, shrugging. “I really like you.” He tries to make it sound friend-ish, but maybe it doesn’t completely work like he wanted it to, because Ryan’s blush creeps back onto his face and he clears his throat. But he doesn’t make any move to step back, so Brendon smiles.

“You too,” Ryan mumbles, and awkwardly pushes his sunglasses back up his nose. Just looking for something to do. Brendon laughs.

“Come on. Let’s go for a walk,” he suggests, not waiting for an answer before he’s tugging Ryan along with him, walking aimlessly within his boundaries.

-

An- So, basically, I just felt like making a chapter with no angst. It needed to be done, y/y? Kind of a filler, but this is two updates in two days so that’s acceptable, right?

Feedback is greatly appreciated ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Six:.

Tue, 27 May 2008 19:03:49 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Six:.
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: Brendon sighs. “Okay, fine,” he mumbles. “I was in love with… with the… ghost in my apartment.” He tries to word himself carefully, in a way that doesn’t make it sound so fucking creepy.
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]

Chapter Six

Frank opens the apartment door slowly, feeling the inexplicable need to be quiet.

It’s dark inside, there aren’t any lights on. The curtains are tied back from the windows, but heavy clouds outside block any sunlight that might have lightened things up.

Frank ignores the light switch and steps further into the apartment. The living room is the same as the last time he saw it, the clock on the fireplace mantel still ticking weakly, like it’s in need of batteries. All of Brendon’s things are still there. His jacket, tossed across the back of the couch. His books, stacked up in piles on the floor. An empty coffee mug sitting on the table, untouched.

Frank takes a deep, steadying breath and steps into the kitchen. It smells bad, like rotten food and dirty dishes. He makes a face and moves into the hall quickly.

The sound of rain hitting the roof makes Frank jump. He rolls his eyes at himself and shakes his head, but is unable to force himself to loosen up. He sighs, places a hand on the already slightly ajar door to Brendon’s bedroom, and pushes it open.

The room is just the same as he remembers it (not that he ever saw much of this particular room). Every item of furniture, every piece of clothing on the floor, and the picture of Brendon’s family on the nightstand- all these things seem like they belong here, like they shouldn‘t ever be moved. He can see why Jon didn’t have the guts to come clean the place out.

He freezes when his eyes land on someone standing by the windows. He instantly recognizes the old fashioned clothes, the long limbs, and the frowning lips. The boy seems like a permanent fixture here too, like he belongs with Brendon’s old things.

“Ryan?” Frank asks slowly, cautiously.

Ryan looks up sharply, startled. “Wonderful,” he mumbles sarcastically when he sees that it’s Frank. “What are you doing here?” His eyes are narrowed, his tone annoyed. Frank frowns, suddenly remembering the vast personality difference between the two Ryan’s.

“I…” Frank trails off, leaning casually against the door frame. He shakes his head. “No, wait. I should be asking you that, fucker. Why weren’t you at Brendon’s funeral?”

Ryan winces like he’s been struck at the mention of Brendon, but recovers quickly. “You need to leave, now. It was stupid of you to come up here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re doing here. Does Jon know? Is that why he wouldn’t let anyone into the apartment? Are you hurt? Where have you been?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Ryan says between his teeth.

“Yeah, well. You don’t give a lot of answers,” Frank huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting out of habit. Ryan just cocks an eyebrow and stares at him, making a point of keeping his lips shut tight.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” Frank says after a long pause in which neither of them blinks, a silent staring contest. “I mean, okay. Gerard’s running around killing people kind of just because he wants to, and Jon’s probably going to go to jail because of it, I get all that. But why are you here, where did you go? What’s with the new kid? The one who looks just like you? I think he’s crazy. He told me he was talking to Brendon the other day.”

“Wait, what? Talking to Brendon?”

Frank nods solemnly. “The kid’s got issues, clearly.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Or maybe you’re just very dense and unobservant.”

Frank hums thoughtfully, like he‘s actually taking this into consideration. He isn’t. “Dude, you‘re even more bitter than the last time we talked. What are you even saying?”

“What am I saying?” Ryan repeats, incredulous. “Frank, I got shot. You saw the blood. I should be dead. But, here I am. What do you make of that?”

“I’m… not sure,” Frank mumbles, looking wary.

“I’m a ghost,” Ryan says slowly, like he’s talking to a misbehaving three year old.

Frank raises his eyebrows. “I don’t believe you,” he says easily. Ryan sighs.

“Sit down. I’ll explain everything.”

-

Ryan is tracing swirls on Brendon’s wrist with his fingertips, both of them sitting in front of Brendon’s tombstone, when it starts to rain.

Ryan shivers when the rain hits him. Brendon can’t feel it, really. He can feel his hair getting wet, starting to stick to his forehead. He reaches up with his free hand to brush it out of his eyes. “You’ll get sick,” he mumbles, glancing at Ryan out of the corner of his eye. Ryan’s cheeks are flushed pink from the cold and his fingers have stilled, now just loosely encircling Brendon’s wrist.

Ryan ignores him. “You don’t have a pulse,” he observes. “But your skin is warm.”

“Is it?”

“It is. I wonder how that’s possible?”

Brendon laughs. “Like I would know.”

Ryan smiles, long fingers sliding down to thread themselves with Brendon’s. “You’d have a nice laugh, if it were ever genuine. Why are you so unhappy?”

Brendon blinks. “Oh, geez. I don’t know. Maybe because I’m dead.”

“That’s not a good way to look at it. I mean, you’re immortal now. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No,” Brendon sighs. “It just means I’m going to spend forever alone, stuck in this damn graveyard. There are so many things I wanted to do, Ryan. I lost so much when I died.”

Ryan’s bangs are plastered to his forehead, his hoodie drenched. Brendon thinks about prompting him to get out of the rain again, but Ryan doesn’t give him the chance. “Like what?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested in hearing Brendon’s answer.

“Well… I can’t talk to my friends anymore, so I lost them. I lost my freedom- I’m stuck here all the time. I lost my chance to have a family. I won’t ever grow old now. I lost the ability to stop Gerard from murdering all my friends. I lost--” He breaks off as he thinks about his Ryan. His Ryan who threw a toaster at Gabe’s head and tried to attack Frank and liked to cuddle Hobo and spend rainy days snuggled up on the couch watching the weather channel.

“You lost…?” Ryan prompts gently, squeezing their hands together, head tilted in Brendon’s direction.

“I lost someone I love very much,” Brendon finishes quickly, distantly wondering if Hobo’s okay and who’s taking care of her now. He thinks Spencer mentioned something about it…

“Who?”

Brendon bites his lip and looks at their entangled hands as he thinks. To lie or not to lie.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ryan adds as an afterthought, always concerned with being polite.

Brendon takes a deep breath. “You’re getting muddy, sitting on the ground,” he notes in a last ditch effort to change the subject. Ryan cocks an eyebrow and he would totally be staring Brendon down if he weren’t blind.

Brendon sighs. “Okay, fine,” he mumbles. “I was in love with… with the… ghost in my apartment.” He tries to word himself carefully, in a way that doesn’t make it sound so fucking creepy.

For a moment, it looks like he succeeds. Except after that moment, Ryan’s lips form a perfect ‘o’ of comprehension and he’s untangling their hands and standing up, suddenly rigid with… surprise? Disgust? Brendon isn’t sure. He stands too and bites his lip as he waits for the inevitable, disgusted reaction.

“Oh. Oh,” Ryan breathes. “That’s why you tolerate me.”

Brendon blinks, confused. “What?”

“I knew there was a reason. You were fucking my dead grandfather and I look like him, don’t I? That’s the only reason you talk to me, pay me any attention, isn’t it?” Ryan doesn’t sound mad, not at all. He sounds like he’s just solved a particularly hard puzzle. And maybe there’s a little disappointment to be found in his voice, too.

Brendon opens his mouth to say, “No, no that’s not it at all. You’re awesome, of course I like to be around you”, but Ryan interrupts.

“I’m sorry. I’ll just… leave you alone from now on. I was stupid to think you wanted to be my friend in the first place.”

Brendon is having trouble gathering his thoughts. This had not been the reaction he’d been expecting at all. He can’t follow Ryan’s train of thought here. Why would he think Brendon doesn’t like him? Or was using him? Or what the hell ever it is that Ryan’s thinking. Brendon honestly doesn’t know.

By the time Brendon has anything to say, Ryan’s already run off and Brendon really just doesn’t feel like going after him.

-

An- I’m sorry for the ridiculously long wait on this one. I meant to post Friday, but writer’s block is a bitch and wouldn’t allow it.

People who leave comments, ftmfw ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Five:.

Wed, 21 May 2008 19:01:15 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Five:.
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: “Bill, babe, it’s about--” Gabe’s smile drops right off his face when he sees Frank’s wide-eyed expression, and Ryan’s sympathetic frown. He puts a hand to his head. “Oh, God. What happened?”
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.

-Prologue- [1] [2] [3] [4]

Chapter Five

Ryan flees to the cemetery. He doesn’t stop to tell anyone what he (more or less) witnessed. He doesn’t stop to alert the authorities. He feels the inexplicable need to hide, and he doesn’t stop to think before he runs to Brendon.

As soon as he steps foot onto cemetery grounds, Brendon is there, touching him lightly on the shoulder to let him know he’s not alone. He smiles gratefully and reaches out, finding Brendon’s shoulder with his hand and leaning on the other boy.

He doesn’t want to answer questions. He acts as normal as possible, thinking of the way the wind sounds whistling through the trees, and the way it feels like the moon is shining, and the way Brendon smells (like candy and pine and strawberry, an odd combination) to take his mind off of what just happened to William.

Despite Ryan’s best efforts, he can tell Brendon knows something is wrong. He can tell because Brendon leads him to a bench and wraps a friendly arm around Ryan’s shoulders and tells him not to worry about it, whatever ’it’ is. He doesn’t ask questions though, so Ryan just nods and reminds himself to breath.

Brendon makes small talk for thirty minutes, cracks jokes to make Ryan feel better. It’s starting to work when they’re interrupted by a yell. Ryan feels Brendon tense next to him, and then there isn’t an arm around his shoulders anymore and the smell of candy is gone from the air. He doesn’t try to protest Brendon’s going (he would if it wasn’t Frank running toward him, distressed and anxious), just sits up straighter and tries to look casual as the pounding footsteps draw closer.

“Ryan, thank God!” Frank pants, out of breath from running for who knows how far. “I’m glad you’re okay! You’ll never believe what just happened!”

Ryan zones out as Frank explains that Spencer found William in the same shape as Pete- dead and mutilated- but starts listening again when Frank gets to the part about how they gave him the job of telling Gabe and how he doesn‘t think he can do it without having a breakdown (he‘s already practically hyperventilating, breathing ragged from grief rather than running now).

“I’ll… tell Gabe for you,” Ryan offers in a whisper. He’s only offering because he doesn’t know Gabe all that well. He imagines it would be easier for him to break the news than it would be for Frank, who was close with both of them.

There’s a pause. Ryan isn’t sure if Frank’s stopped talking because he’s shocked at the offer or if he’s actually considering it. After a moment, Frank clears his throat and Ryan settles on shocked.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that…”

“Frank, he’s got to find out from someone.”

Another pause, and then, “We’ll both go.”

Ryan nods and stands, linking his arm with Frank’s and motioning that the shorter boy should lead the way.

-

The walk to Gabe and William’s small, one story house is a short one. They knock and Gabe answers the door smiling.

“Bill, babe, it’s about--” Gabe’s smile drops right off his face when he sees Frank’s wide-eyed expression, and Ryan’s sympathetic frown. He puts a hand to his head. “Oh, God. What happened?”

Something tells Frank Gabe already knows what horrid news they’ve come to deliver, maybe he can read it in their faces or in their body language.

His suspicions are confirmed when he doesn’t look the least bit surprised at Ryan telling him that William’s been found dead. Ryan very carefully leaves out the ‘mutilated’ part, Frank notices. He doesn’t bring it up either. Why give Gabe those awful mental images?

“I’m really sorry,” Ryan adds after a pause, and he sounds like he means it. Frank’s suddenly glad he brought Ryan along.

Gabe smiles sadly and nods. “He had a good life. He was happy,” he says, voice shaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady. “I’ll miss him.”

“We all will,” Frank whispers, stepping forward to hug Gabe. The hug is awkward, because Gabe’s all long limbs and Frank’s… not. But the comfort it offers is welcomed.

-

“I don’t… I don’t believe it,” Brendon breathes, on his knees in front of William’s tombstone, eyes wide as he tries to process it all. It’s three days later, the funeral has just ended. Ryan stayed behind to explain things to Brendon. “That sick bastard.”

Ryan nods his agreement, standing beside Brendon with a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “When will he stop?”

Brendon shrugs helplessly and, just because he needs the contact, places his hand over the one on his shoulder. He distantly notices that Ryan is shaking, but his mind is too preoccupied for him to care. It was one thing for Gerard to kill Pete, but for him to keep going? To keep killing just for the sake of killing? It’s crazy. He’s already exacted his revenge on Brendon, and on Frank, and Mikey too. Why can’t he leave things be like a sane person?

Brendon snorts at himself. Sane, right. Something Gerard clearly isn’t.

“Brendon,” Ryan says, and Brendon realizes that Ryan is on the ground with him now, their fingers laced together casually between them. “Brendon, there’s something else you should know.”

“What is it?” Brendon asks, freezing when he looks at Ryan for the first time that day. Really looks at him. His eyes widen as they trace the fresh cut on Ryan’s cheek, small but deep and red with new blood. A bruise is forming around the edges, like maybe he was slapped, or punched. “Oh, God. Ryan, what happened?”

Ryan shakes his head and ignores the question. “I was there,” he says, steering them effortlessly back on topic. “When he,” -Ryan gestures at William’s tombstone- “was attacked. I was there.”

“Holy shit,” is all Brendon manages.

Ryan runs his free hand through his hair and bites his lip and recounts the entire thing to Brendon, what he heard and what he made of it. The shaking Brendon had noticed earlier intensifies until Brendon stops him, squeezes their hands together and tells him that’s enough.

“We’ll stop him,” he assures before they lapse into silence, even though he sincerely doubts the truth of his words.

-

Frank’s always been a rule breaker. And Jon isn’t there to yell at him anyway, so why not? There’s obviously something up in the apartment that he isn’t supposed to see, why shouldn’t he check it out while he’s got the chance?

Needless to say, he is not at all prepared for what he finds.

-

An- Oh, cliffhanger! By the end of this, you will all hate me.

Feedback is appreciated ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Four:.

Mon, 19 May 2008 18:20:10 GMT

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 ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Three:.

Fri, 16 May 2008 20:54:40 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Three:.
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: “This is different.” Gabe would totally tell William everything if it weren’t for the fact that he’d sound fucking crazy. Or, crazier than usual. Telling people Brendon’s a ghost would definitely make him sound crazier than usual.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.

-Prologue- [1] [2]

Chapter Three

“Whatever happened to Ryan?” Frank asks, followed by an ‘oof’ when he almost drops the box of stuff he’s carrying. Pete’s stuff, from his office at the record store. But he doesn’t dwell on that as he helps Spencer load it into Patrick’s car.

“What? That new kid?” Spencer is close on Frank’s heels, a much smaller and lighter box cradled in one arm. Frank’s letting him get away with slacking off just this once.

“No, no.” Frank shakes his head, hair flopping into his eyes. “Brendon’s boyfriend. The last I saw of him, he was shot. Literally.” Frank clenches his jaw, determined not to let those horrifying images get to him right now. “I’m talking blood and a fucking hole in his chest, dude. Did he ever get any medical attention?”

They reach Patrick’s car and they carefully stow the boxes in the trunk. They walk side by side back into the store.

Spencer gives Frank a funny look. “You never said Brendon’s boyfriend was there.”

Frank scratches his head awkwardly upon realizing his mistake. “Uh. Well, he was. He sent me to call 911, and when I came back into the living room he was gone.” His eyes widen and he says quickly, “You don’t think he’s still up there do you? What if he died and he’s up there, like, rotting and stuff?”

Spencer scrunches up his nose at the mental image of a rotting, zombie-like body. He shudders despite himself. “Frank, when I went to get Hobo no one was up there. I looked in all the rooms and didn’t find anyone. Besides, we’d smell him by now.”

Frank hums and bends to grab yet another box off the floor. He stumbles as he rights himself again and curses under his breath. Fuck, why does he keep picking the heavy ones? This one is small, even! It must have bricks in it. Or, like, a million paperweights. Pete always was an odd one.

“…anyway, he probably went back to Vegas or wherever he was from, you know?”

Frank blinks and realizes he totally missed the first part of whatever Spencer was saying. He doesn’t feel like hearing it repeated though. “Yeah, probably,” Frank agrees, even though he doesn’t believe that. Why wouldn’t Brendon’s boyfriend stick around for the funeral?

“So have you met the new kid in town?” Spencer asks, quickly shifting the subject to something a little more light-hearted. “He seems nice. A little introverted, maybe, but nice.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve met him.” Frank nods and shifts the box around in his arms so the corners aren’t digging into him. He doesn’t feel like pointing out that the new kid is the reason he asked about- and remembered- Brendon’s boyfriend. They just look so much alike, it’s creepy. And they have the same name, for fucks sake. He might think they were the same person, if not for the very clear, very few differences. “Did you see that bruise on his face?”

“Yep. I feel bad for him, it looked painful.” He pauses and tilts his head like he’s considering something. “It must suck being blind.”

Frank laughs as he drops the heavy box into Patrick’s trunk, and then watches Spencer do the same with his. “Uh, duh. He doesn’t even know, like. Colors and shit.”

Spencer smiles. “He seems like he’s pretty capable though.” He laughs and adds, “I’m not sure what I’d do if I’d never seen Jon Walker’s face. Seriously.” Spencer abruptly stops walking, so Frank stops too. “He’ll… he’ll be okay, won’t he? They couldn’t possibly find him guilty, right?”

Frank pats Spencer on the shoulder and assures him that, “No, there’s no way. He’s Jon.”

-

William is leaning into Gabe slightly, legs curled under him, eyes trained on the TV. But he refuses to drop the issue. “Please?” he says for the umpteenth time.

Gabe sighs heavily and sinks even further into the couch cushions. He throws his arm around William’s shoulders and nuzzles his nose into William’s hair, even as he’s shaking his head. “No,” he says, also for the umpteenth time.

“Why not?”

“Because, Bill, I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

William shifts around so he can meet Gabe’s laughing gaze. He looks incredulous. “That’s never stopped you before,” he points out, despite the fact that they’ve been through this same conversation four times in the past two hours. Gabe’s answer has been the same every time.

“This is different.” Gabe would totally tell William everything if it weren’t for the fact that he’d sound fucking crazy. Or, crazier than usual. Telling people Brendon’s a ghost would definitely make him sound crazier than usual.

William pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, dropping back into silence and staring once again at the TV screen. But this time he vows, “I will find out what you’re hiding from me, Gabe. I don’t care who I have to fuck, I’m going to uncover your secret.”

Gabe looks thoughtful at this. “You could start with me,” he suggests, smiling. William scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Nice try,” he mumbles, and laughs when Gabe frowns.

-

Brendon finds Ryan in the cemetery one afternoon, on his knees in front of a tombstone, tracing the engraved letters with his pointer finger and forming the words silently with his lips.

Brendon only stands by and watches curiously. He knows when Ryan becomes aware of his presence, because he speaks the engraved name out loud, head inclined in Brendon’s direction. “George Ryan Ross.”

“Yeah,” Brendon whispers, the name making him wince. He can’t count how many hours he’s spent staring at that name, written on cold, chipped stone. There’s no body there, under the ground. Brendon wishes there was.

“That’s my name. George Ryan Ross the third.”

“Oh,” is all Brendon can think to say. The implications of that are… staggering. It would mean that Ryan, his Ryan who died so young and is so alone, had a child. Maybe even children. But with who? And when? Impossible.

“I wonder how he died.” Ryan goes back to tracing, running his finger over the lines that spell out ’Ross’.

Brendon imagines himself telling the truth. Oh, he just threw himself out a window. No big deal. He can’t even think about how that would go over. Instead, he says, “Who knows? That was a long time ago.”

“It says he was twenty-one when he died. I wonder…” Ryan trails off, leaving the thought unfinished.

Because it doesn’t look like Ryan’s getting up from the ground anytime soon, Brendon settles himself in the grass next to the boy, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He absently picks a few blades of grass and crushes them in his fingers. “Do you want to tell me about that bruise now?” he asks, curiosity unable to be pushed aside as he studies the purple mark on Ryan’s otherwise flawless face.

Ryan shifts so he’s sitting Indian-style and shrugs. “There’s nothing to tell, “ he lies, smiling.

Brendon smiles too and rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Sure there isn’t.” He sighs over-dramatically. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until you’re ready to tell me, eh? How boring.”

Ryan laughs and bites his chapped lip. “You’ll find out eventually. Everyone will. Soon.”

“Soon,” Brendon repeats. He purses his lips and nods to himself, silently making a promise. I’ll tell you my secret soon, too.

-

An- I just can’t seem to write long chapters, can I? Well, this one’s kind of a filler anyway. Nothing tragic happened, just count your lucky stars. ;)

Feedback is greatly appreciated. ♥

Remaining Relevant .:Two:.

Wed, 14 May 2008 20:01:31 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Two:.
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R
Pairing: Ghost!Brendon/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: Gabe looks absolutely frazzled when he jogs up to Brendon’s tombstone, hands balled into fists and eyes vacant of anything except utter, disbelieving confusion. Brendon’s never seen him like this before. He’s instantly there, pinching the fabric of Gabe’s hoodie in his fingers and looking worried.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.

-Prologue- [1]

Chapter Two

Four days pass without incident. Brendon gets several visitors (and how was he lucky enough to have had such great friends? He feels increasingly bad about blowing them off to spend time with Ryan while he was alive) and Gabe seems to have kept his promise. His lips have stayed sealed and Frank has no clue. No one has a clue. Not even Jon, who knows ghosts exist. Even has one living above his place of business.

While these four days seem to drag on forever and are relatively uneventful, Brendon counts them as good days. He could live the rest of eternity doing nothing at all if it meant nothing tragic happening.

But, as the sun peaks over the horizon and colors everything gold, Brendon feels it. The thickness in the air that only means bad news is coming.

And then.

Then Brendon finds out that Gabe is the messenger.

Gabe looks absolutely frazzled when he jogs up to Brendon’s tombstone, hands balled into fists and eyes vacant of anything except utter, disbelieving confusion. Brendon’s never seen him like this before. He’s instantly there, pinching the fabric of Gabe’s hoodie in his fingers and looking worried.

“Brendon,” Gabe gasps, sounding like he just emerged from a pool of cold water. His voice is strained, and now that Brendon looks closer, he can see the purple under Gabe’s eyes. He’s been up all night, obviously. “It’s awful. Look.”

Gabe reaches into his pocket and pulls out the folded, wrinkled page of a newspaper. He stuffs it as quickly as possible into Brendon’s hands and then squeezes his eyes shut like he expects to be slapped.

Brendon gives him a funny look, a cross between amusement and puzzlement, and then unfolds the paper and lets his eyes sweep the page.

Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III was found dead last night…

Brendon doesn’t even bother with the rest. He looks up sharply, jaw clenched. “It was Gerard,” he says, but it sounds more like a growl than anything. How could anyone be so heartless…?

Gabe nods, but urges, “Brendon, look.” He leans over to point out a particular paragraph. Brendon swallows past his sudden, boiling anger, only to have it rise again as he reads on.

The police have taken Jon Walker into custody as the prime suspect. His fingerprints were found on one of the two murder weapons, a pistol, which was carelessly thrown into the dumpster outside his bookstore. Which happens to be right next to crime scene...

“They can’t seriously think Jon did it,” Brendon mumbles, fighting to control his abject horror as he stares at the tiny, black and white picture of Pete, and the even tinier one of Jon. “Jon… he wouldn’t. And if he did he wouldn’t leave the fucking murder weapon lying around.”

“I know that,” Gabe whispers, and then gently plucks the paper from Brendon’s hands. He stares blankly down at the smiling Pete as he adds, a bit louder, “They’re having the funeral tomorrow. There’s no body to bury, but I’m sure they’ll do something to preserve his memory.”

Brendon’s eyebrows come together and he bites his lip. “No body to bury?” he asks slowly, hoping he misheard.

Gabe nods stiffly. “They say he was… unrecognizable. There was a knife involved, apparently.”

It’s like a punch to the stomach to hear that. To hear that Gerard is carrying out his twisted fantasies, exacting his fucked up revenge in the bloodiest way possible.

Brendon’s thoughts fly to Spencer, and to Patrick, who are probably worried and crushed and confused and suddenly alone. And who will Gerard kill next? Why haven’t the cops caught him yet? When will Gerard find his way to Frank, or poor, blind Ryan?

-

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Brendon thinks he’s being sneaky, but Ryan seems totally unsurprised at his suddenly being there, right next to him.

Ryan nods, frowning. He absently pushes his sunglasses up his nose. “I don’t think Jon did it.”

“I don’t either,” Brendon agrees, refraining from saying what he really wants to say. He wants to tell Ryan everything that happened. Everything about Gerard and the ghost and his own death, except that would kind of let on to the fact that he’s a fucking ghost. “He’s too nice.”

Ryan hums his agreement, the sound almost blending in with the buzzing of the bees around them. They’re standing far away from the crowd of mourners, both hoping not to be noticed but for different reasons.

Brendon glances sideways at Ryan, and freezes. “What’s that?” he asks before he can help himself. “Shit, what happened?”

Ryan seems to instinctively know what Brendon’s talking about. He quickly covers the dark bruise on his cheekbone, though Brendon’s clearly already seen it. “I ran into… something,” Ryan lies, and not very well. “You know. That happens when you can’t see anything.” The laugh that follows sounds as hollow as it possibly could.

“Ryan, I…” Brendon starts, but trails off. He quickly has to remind himself that he barely knows this boy, and that there’s no real foundation there yet that would justify him asking to be trusted. “Um, okay.”

“Okay?” Ryan repeats, sounding surprised. He drops his hand back to his side. “You believe me?”

Brendon smiles despite himself. “No,” he admits. “But, you know. It’s your story to tell and all that jazz.”

Ryan breathes a sigh of relief that Brendon isn’t going to question him.

-

Thirty minutes later there are only a few remaining stragglers in the cemetery. Brendon can tell from a distance who they are. Patrick, Frank, Gabe, Spencer and William. Gabe is clearly doing his part to lighten the mood, as no one has broken down into tears yet. Brendon remembers Gabe doing the same at his funeral.

“I should go say hi…” Ryan says unsurely. “Shouldn’t I?” He tilts his head in Brendon’s direction.

Brendon shrugs. “Maybe. It would be polite.”

Ryan gingerly touches the bruise on his cheek and bites his lip. “What if…” he starts, and then stops. He drops his hand. “Who’s that?” he asks instead, and Brendon looks up.

Frank is walking toward them, waving and smiling a little. Not as genuinely as usual, maybe, but it’s a smile all the same.

“Shit,” Brendon curses, and then says quickly, “I’ve got to go. See you later.” He doesn’t give Ryan time to answer before he turns away from Frank and walks a little ways before allowing himself to vanish. He can only hope Frank didn’t get close enough to see his face.

“Who were you just talking to?” Frank asks curiously when he reaches Ryan.

“Brendon. He’s really nice,” Ryan says simply. Frank looks confused.

“Wait, Brendon? Did he just move here or something?” When Ryan shrugs, Frank adds, “I knew a Brendon. He was my best friend.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, he was murdered. Just like Pete, and just like Mikey.”

Ryan frowns sympathetically. “I heard about your friend Mikey. I’m sorry.”

Frank shrugs like it’s nothing and runs a hand through his hair. “So how are you liking it here so far?” he asks to change the subject. It works and Ryan starts talking enthusiastically about how nice everyone is and how pretty the town is, etc. etc. etc. Brendon tunes them out and watches as Patrick hugs Spencer, and the two of them say their last goodbyes to Pete.

-

An- OMG ANOTHER DEATH. I swear I’m not actually evil.

Feedback is lovely ♥

It gets Worse [1/1]

Tue, 13 May 2008 17:51:13 GMT

Title: It gets Worse
Author: neverxnever
Rating: light Pg-13?
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Ryan/Keltie
POV: Third
Summary: Ryan laughs and brushes Brendon’s lengthening hair out of his eyes. “Do that again, maybe?” Ryan asks sheepishly, and the last thing on Brendon’s mind is Keltie, so he does. He kisses Ryan again, like he’s trying to get a point across. I should be with you.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: Something I wrote several months back that I recently found on my computer. Not the best thing I’ve ever written, but I kind of like it. Feedback is appreciated :]

You know that feeling you get when you can’t remember which day a certain set of events took place? Or if those events were anything more than a dream? You feel flustered and confused until someone helps clear it up for you, reminds you that it happened yesterday morning, three days ago, two weeks ago. Or something similar.

That’s kind of how Brendon feels when he tries to remember the exact moment he fell in love with Ryan. And the exact moment Ryan fell in love with Keltie. And the exact moment Keltie fell in love with Ryan, too. It’s all one giant blur of when?

Except there isn’t anyone there to clear it up. There isn’t anyone there to tell Brendon how or when or why it happened. But in the end, it doesn’t really matter, does it?

-

Brendon and Ryan have always been close. Close enough that Brendon can curl into Ryan’s side and nuzzle his nose into Ryan’s neck and no one questions it. Especially not Ryan, who only throws his arm around Brendon’s shoulders and smiles.

It makes Keltie want to scream profanities. And that’s saying something. Because Keltie likes Brendon. He’s nice and charming and fun to be around. There isn’t anything that rubs her the wrong way about his personality.

Except, she knows. It’s her job to know. She loves Ryan.

She knows when Brendon takes that giant leap across the bottomless pit and kisses Ryan, too. She can see it the next day in Ryan’s eyes, sparkling and sharp like she’s never seen them be before.

Which is precisely why she grabs him and kisses him as hard as she can for as long as she can, trying to smother the spark out of his eyes.

All she succeeds in doing is tasting Brendon on her lovers lips.

-

Ryan gasps when Brendon’s suddenly in his face, suddenly kissing him, but he’s kissing back soon enough, and Brendon pulls away to grin, showing teeth.

Ryan laughs and brushes Brendon’s lengthening hair out of his eyes. “Do that again, maybe?” Ryan asks sheepishly, and the last thing on Brendon’s mind is Keltie, so he does. He kisses Ryan again, like he’s trying to get a point across. I should be with you.

But when Brendon sees Keltie next, and all she does is smile warmly at him, he stops breathing. The guilt is so overwhelming he thinks it could crush him.

It doesn’t. So he kisses Ryan again, all over.

-

Keltie’s eyes are closed, her brain almost there, when the words are whispered in her ear. I’m sorry.

And that’s how she knows.

Ryan’s arms around her suddenly feel heavy and it’s hard to breath. It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t so easy to picture. Brendon and Ryan, a tangle of limbs and feelings, sweaty and moaning.

She swallows down any emotion that tries to bubble to the surface and hugs Brendon the next time she sees him. He’s mine as long as I say he’s mine, her hug is trying to convey.

Brendon hugs her back, but it isn’t lost on her that he’s shaking.

-

Ryan leans in to kiss him, and Brendon stops him. Places his hands on Ryan’s chest and pushes gently. Enough to get his point across. Ryan eyes go wide, surprised.

“I can’t,” Brendon explains, thinking of the way that Keltie smiles when Ryan does nice things for her. Thinking of the way that he himself feels when Ryan touches him. “Keltie. She loves you.”

Ryan shakes his head and opens his mouth to say anything, but the words won’t come to the forefront of his mind. He can’t figure out what Brendon wants him to say to that.

Brendon sighs. “Don’t you care that you’re hurting her?”

“Of course I care,” Ryan says. And he does. He loves Keltie. But he loves Brendon, too, and there just isn’t any way for him to choose. There isn’t any way for him to be fair to them. “But am I hurting you , Brendon?”

Brendon thinks. He opens his mouth, closes it again. He presses his lips together in a hard line and shakes his head.

“Then you shouldn’t worry about her.”

Brendon doesn’t push Ryan away again.

-

Ryan is humming under his breath as they watch the movie. Keltie doesn’t know the name of it. Something black and white and funny in an innocent way that isn’t funny anymore. Keltie hates these kinds of movies, but Ryan loves them.

She’s been going out of her way to make him happy, lately. He doesn’t seem to have noticed. He stays gone from the house longer, now. Finds any excuse he can to go see Brendon. She can feel herself losing him, slowly but surely.

I love you, she thinks as she stretches her neck up to kiss his jaw. He smiles down at her. A tiny, caring smile that she used to think meant I love you too.

-

Brendon avoids Keltie as much as possible, but the guilt is still there. Tugging at him, weighing him down. He was raised better than this. What would his parents say if they knew?

They’d tell him what he already knows. He’s filthy and disgusting and he’s going to hell. They’d tell him he should stop this nonsense and do something selfless for once. He should let Keltie be happy.

He finds it so, so hard to think about hell and his parents and selflessness when he’s with Ryan though. As soon as Ryan is touching him, kissing him, whispering sugary sweet words in his ear, everything else disappears from his brain and he’s only able to focus on the now.

But when he eventually has to see Keltie again, and her features are arranged into something that resembles hopelessness, he knows what he has to do. And he’s determined to do it.

-

Ryan’s lips are on his before he even has time to say hello. This is a sure sign that they are alone in the house. Not that Brendon expected differently. Keltie has been finding ways to give them more and more space, leaving and staying gone longer.

Brendon pushes feebly against Ryan, bats at his wandering hands until Ryan gets the message and pulls back, looking a little annoyed. “What?“

Brendon only shakes his head, but Ryan gets it. Just like that, he knows Brendon’s intentions.

“You’re ending it,” he says simply, stating a fact rather than asking a question.

Brendon nods, and that’s that.

-

“I choose you,” Ryan mumbles into Keltie’s hair. She’s curled into his side, and this is so familiar and warm but not at all what he wants. “Brendon and I… I told him it wouldn’t work.”

Keltie looks up at his face, eyes light as she studies him, reads him like the open book he is. She knows he’s lying about something.

She smiles anyway, bright and happy, looks away from his face and back at the flickering TV screen. “That’s good,” is all she says, because there’s nothing else that comes to mind.

Remaining Relevant .:One:.

Mon, 12 May 2008 18:14:35 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:One:.
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R
Pairing: Ghost!Brendon/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: Which is why when he sees Ryan, his Ryan, sitting Indian-style on the ground, he doesn’t just walk away and blame it on poor mental health. He isn’t even sure if ghosts can have poor mental health. Health kind of flew out the window with life, didn’t it?
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.

-Prologue-

Chapter One

Brendon sings to himself sometimes. His voice echoes and bounces around like he’s singing into a bucket, but it’s still recognizably his voice. He never sings anything of any importance, just random snatches of songs he can still remember. He misses the feel of a guitar in his hands. He misses being able to press down on the keys of a piano and hear his music.

He wanders around aimlessly when no one is visiting him. Sometimes he approaches the very edges of his boundaries and watches the people walk past on the sidewalk. He’s so close. He feels like he could step onto that sidewalk and become a part of the material world again. So close yet so far away.

Sometimes, Brendon gets tired of being numb. Which doesn’t make much sense when he thinks about it, but it’s true. It’s like being trapped in an angst ridden chick flick, unable to claw his way out of his lead role. The thing is, though, he can’t figure out if he’s the hero or the damsel in distress. He’s certainly not going to save anyone any time soon, and no one seems to be coming to his rescue.

So maybe he doesn’t have a lead role after all. Maybe he’s just that guy that’s always in the background and never says anything. An extra.

Ryan would play the hero, Brendon thinks to himself. Ryan would come to his rescue if he could.

-

Brendon may be a lot of things, but he’s never been delusional and he’s never been actually insane.

Which is why when he sees Ryan, his Ryan, sitting Indian-style on the ground, he doesn’t just walk away and blame it on poor mental health. He isn’t even sure if ghosts can have poor mental health. Health kind of flew out the window with life, didn’t it?

But as he gets closer to the unmoving boy, he realizes that there are differences. This boy’s hair color is darker, for one, and styled different- a little longer. He’s dressed in an over-sized hoodie and tight fitting jeans, a definite change from the old fashioned clothes his Ryan could always be seen in.

But the long limbs and the pouty lips and the way he sits, hunched in on himself like he’s trying to become invisible, are all just the same as the Ryan Brendon remembers.

Brendon moves closer still, until he’s just in front of the boy, crouched down so he’s at eye level. Brendon can’t actually see his eyes, though, because of the darkly tinted sunglasses perched on the boy’s nose, despite the gray day.

“Who’s there?” the boy asks suddenly, going rigid.

Brendon jumps backward, afraid, for a moment, that he’s been seen. But that’s impossible, he tells himself, and then entertains the notion that this boy has a sixth sense for a moment.

“Who’s there?” the boy asks again, voice not shaking as he tries to sound demanding.

Brendon frowns in puzzlement. Experimentally, he reaches out to wave a hand in front of the boy’s face. As if on instinct, the boy’s hand flies up, trying to grab Brendon’s wrist and push it away. But of course, he only catches air.

The boy then jumps to his feet, and Brendon follows, standing up again. He understands now. “You’re blind?” he asks, and just like that, he’s solid. It feels odd, being suddenly able to feel the breeze on his face and the crunch of leaves beneath his feet.

“Yes,” the boy says, breathing a sigh of relief that he’s finally gotten an answer. He bends to pick up the cane that Brendon had failed to notice lying next to him earlier. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t sneak up on me like that in the future.”

“I’m sorry,” Brendon says, even though he isn’t really. He’s mostly just confused. “I didn’t mean to, um. Scare you.” There’s a significant pause before he adds hastily, “I’m Brendon.”

The boy smiles, bright and welcoming and not at all sharp, and nods his head. “It’s cool. I’m Ryan.” He holds out a hand expectantly in Brendon’s direction, and waits until Brendon is shaking said hand to add, “It’s nice to meet you, Brendon.”

Brendon suppresses a shudder as he releases Ryan’s calloused, long-fingered hand. It somehow feels different now, touching someone living. Not altogether pleasant. And the way he feels utterly unsurprised to hear this boy’s name is Ryan is not altogether pleasant, either.

Something clicks and Brendon remembers a conversation. The recent one with Gabe. “Didn’t you just move here?” Brendon asks curiously. He finds it odd that this boy, who looks so much like his Ryan that it almost hurts, would move here now, just after his death.

“Yep. Me and my psycho dad.” Ryan laughs a little, light-hearted even with the chilly atmosphere and eerie surroundings. “I came here to get a break from him. It’s probably the one place he’ll never think to look.” Ryan tilts his head to the right, thinking something over by the looks of it. He asks, “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, uh. I…” Brendon works to think up a believable lie. Something that won’t make him seem insane. Or dead. “I come here a lot to… To relax, I guess. To get a break, like you.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, smile still pulling at the corners of his chapped lips. He clearly doesn’t believe Brendon’s lie, but he says anyway, “Okay, so we have something in common. How old are you?”

Brendon stomach flips over at the thought of age. “I’m twenty. You?”

“Almost twenty-one,” Ryan says, not managing to squash the excitement completely out of his voice. “As soon as I’m legal, I’m headed to Vegas.” He grins, and Brendon can’t help but notice how pretty his smile is. He can’t help but wish his Ryan were here to smile at him.

“That’s…” Brendon pauses, searching for the right word. “Awesome,” he finishes lamely. It’s not, and he shudders at the mere thought of his birthplace.

“Sorry,” Ryan says cooly. “Did I do something to offend you?”

Brendon is reminded of the way his Ryan could pick up on his emotions so easily. They are so alike, and yet so different. For instance, Brendon had received a chilly and unpleasant greeting from the ghost living in his apartment. This Ryan standing in front of him doesn’t seem like one to be mean to anybody. Ever.

“Oh, no.” Brendon shakes his head out of habit, even being aware that Ryan can’t see it. “No, it’s just. I’ve… had some bad experiences in Vegas.”

Ryan opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by a yell coming from behind Brendon. Brendon turns to look over his shoulder and is momentarily stunned into immobility.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “I’ve got to go,” he says quickly to Ryan, and doesn’t give the boy the time to answer before he lets himself fade back into numbness.

“Ryan!” Gabe calls again, jogging up to the boy, a curious look on his face. “What are you doing in the cemetery?”

-

“I saw you talking to Ryan yesterday, you naughty boy.” Gabe is smirking down at Brendon’s tombstone, seemingly pleased with himself for catching Brendon in the act.

Brendon huffs and Gabe jumps slightly at his sudden appearance. “You, Gabriel Saporta, had better keep your damn mouth shut.” Unfortunately, even Brendon’s best attempts at being threatening fail, and Gabe laughs. “I’m serious,” Brendon pouts.

Gabe keeps laughing even as he grabs Brendon into a fierce bear hug. “You fucker! You’ve been out here all along! I knew it!”

“Shut up, you did not.” Brendon smiles despite himself and pushes Gabe off him. The smile quickly falls however, and he shakes his finger at Gabe, eyes narrowed. “You really can’t tell anyone, Gabe. I don’t need Frank thinking there’s still a chance… He needs to move on.”

Gabe studies Brendon’s face a moment, thinking. Finally, he nods. “You’re probably right. Frank’s a wimp. It would only make things worse.” He smiles brightly again.

Brendon scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Frank is not a wimp,” he says, defending his friend even though hearing Gabe back him up on this one is a big relief. And for the first time in what seems like forever he feels relieved.

-

An 2- The next chapter will be longer and better, I assure you.

Feedback is greatly appreciated. I swear I’m going to answer comments this time xD

Remaining Relevant .:Prologue:.

Fri, 09 May 2008 18:28:58 GMT

Title: Remaining Relevant .:Prologue:.
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R
Pairing: Ghost!Brendon/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: Other ghosts linger at the edges of his vision. When he turns to look directly at them, they’re gone. He swears he hears them call his name sometimes, and it’s torture. He might feel agony and despair and hopelessness if he let himself feel anything at all.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end, bbz.

Prologue

Brendon blinks and several months pass. The leaves go from brown and wilting, to bright and green before he can really process it. He can’t feel the lingering chill leftover from winter, but he knows it’s there.

He makes a considerable effort to slow down time, to keep himself in the now.

But even so, time slips away from him. It slips through his fingers like water, hard to catch and keep a hold of. He struggles with it, and finds that it’s easier to slow things down if he’s moving. If he’s keeping his mind focused on things of this world.

Other ghosts linger at the edges of his vision. When he turns to look directly at them, they’re gone. He swears he hears them call his name sometimes, and it’s torture. He might feel agony and despair and hopelessness if he let himself feel anything at all.

He hasn’t forgotten his life. He hasn’t forgotten any of his friends. They still haunt him too, just like the other ghosts. They continue to visit his grave and he wishes they wouldn’t. He wishes they would move on. Especially Frank, who’s eyes are bruised and who’s shoulders are slumped and who cries harder every time he reads Brendon’s name, engraved on cold stone.

Brendon especially hasn’t forgotten Ryan, who changed everything.

But he doesn’t allow himself to think of Ryan for too long. The disappointment in finding out that, even in death, they can not and will not be together, still makes him cringe.

He can’t pretend that he’s completely numb. Some things still get at him, make him hurt. But only if he lets them. Only if he thinks of those things for too long.

He quickly discovers that his limitations are different than Ryan’s. He has boundaries, still. He’s bound to the graveyard, for one. But the rain has nothing to do with his solidity. He isn’t sure why, or how, but he’s able to affect the things around him, make himself visible, whenever he wishes.

He doesn’t often, though. Why should he? When he’s real it’s easier to feel. He’s less numb and he doesn’t like it, because all he feels is heartache, usually. And it would only ruin his friends lives. Frank, especially, who wouldn’t ever be able to let go if there was even a small chance he could hold Brendon again. He’d said as much, once, while he was weeping over Brendon’s buried body.

Brendon tries to close his ears against these kinds of things, but always finds it impossible.

-

Jon comes to see him- his headstone- on a dreary Saturday morning. He talks of Spencer and of Greta, who’s recently gotten engaged to Vicky-T. Brendon nods at everything Jon says, if only to pretend like it’s a two-sided conversation. He won’t admit to flinching when he realizes he can’t remember a Greta or a Vicky-T.

“Everyone misses you,” is how Jon always ends these ‘conversation’s’. It’s no different this time, and he parts with these not-quite-accurate words once again.

And leaves something behind.

Brendon inches forward and tentatively reaches out for accidentally discarded newspaper. His fingers ghost straight through the paper on the first try, but the second time he gets it and is able to pull it into his lap and read the headline.

MURDERER ESCAPED FROM HOSPITAL, it reads, a rather blunt headline.

Gerard Way was sentenced to live out his remaining years in prison after being charged with two counts of murder. Several weeks ago, however, Way attempted suicide- and almost succeeded. He was sent to the hospital, where he was put under heavy surveillance while he recovered.
But last night, Way escaped. Several hospital staff members were found dead at the scene…

Brendon flings the newspaper some several feet away. He can’t say he feels scared, or sad, or worried. He can’t honestly say he feels anything, but he knows he can’t read anymore about Gerard Way. Too many memories.

-

Gabe comes to visit later that same morning. Gabe is always the lighthearted one, making jokes and laughing and telling stories like he knows Brendon can hear him. Hell, Gabe probably does know. Brendon wouldn’t put it past the guy.

“So this new family moved to town,” Gabe says, looking thoughtfully up at the sky. “A boy and his dad. The boy’s about your age, I think. You’d probably like him if you met him.”

Brendon wants to ask Gabe what he means by that, but refrains. As if able to sense this, Gabe smirks. “He just seems like your type,” he says in answer to the unasked question.

Brendon shakes his head and purses his lips. He only has one “type”. Ryan.

-
An 2- Just a taste of the sequel. I spent several hours planning out the entire fic (I don‘t ever actually plan for fics, so.), and while my plans are subject to change, I expect there’ll be about 15 chapters to this.

NOW FOR THE FLAILING ABOUT THE 50+ COMMENTS YOU GUYS LEFT ON THE LAST CHAPTER OF HIR. OMG, YOU GUYS. That’s more than I’ve gotten on anything ever and they were all so amazing. I wanted to answer every single one and tell each of you thank you, but I just didn’t have the time. But those comments are the reason I got this out so quick. They really motivated me, thank you so much!

I really hope to not disappoint with this. I don’t think it’s going to go quite the way any of you were thinking (for instance, Ghost!Ryan isn’t even hardly going to be in this one. Don‘t worry though. There will be Ryan ;]), but I still hope it pleases :]

I’m going to try and make the chapters a bit longer than the HIR chapters, too. But with my short attention span and eagerness to post, we’ll see xD

SO leave me more pretty comments so I post the first chapter sooner, yes? /super long AN

Find Me [4/?]

Thu, 08 May 2008 21:02:25 GMT

Title: Find Me [4/?]
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R, just to be safe.
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
POV: Third
Summary: “Greta can do anything,” Mikey says, like it should be obvious. And, okay. Brendon would have to agree.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end.

[Prologue] [1] [2] [3]

Chapter four- all my yesterdays

Brendon’s on the very edge of sleep when someone slips quietly into his room and wakes him up. There’s only one person it could be, really, and Brendon isn’t surprised when Ryan’s shadow is cast over his face, the lanky boy standing at his bedside awkwardly.

“Not everyone is an insomniac, you know,” Brendon mumbles, voice rough. He sits up and blinks blearily.

“I know.” Ryan motions for him to scoot over and make room, so Brendon does. Then Ryan takes a seat on the edge of the bed, facing away from Brendon. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Brendon props himself up on an elbow and shrugs, trying his best not to let his eyes linger on the strip of exposed skin where Ryan’s shirt rides up a little. “It’s cool. I wasn’t all the way asleep anyway.” Even as he says it, he‘s yawning. Ryan laughs noiselessly, shoulders shaking lightly. “But, hey. What do you want?”

“I guess…” Ryan starts, then stops. Brendon purses his lips distastefully at the silence that follows, and is just about to break it when Ryan finally continues with that thought. “I guess I just wanted to talk to you. We haven’t really… I mean…” Ryan sighs and whips around to face Brendon. “I’ve been an asshole, okay? I’m not sorry, but I do think we should talk.”

Brendon nods his head slowly, thinking things over. Finally, he says, “Why?”

Ryan looks puzzled for a moment. “Why?” he repeats, and then it dawns on him. “Why do I think we should talk? Because… we haven’t yet? Because I miss…” Ryan waves a hand about, trying to express with a gesture what he seems to be unable to express with words.

A grin breaks out over Brendon’s face. “You miss me, don’t you.” He doesn’t even bother making it a question.

Ryan frowns. “I do not. I miss who you were, maybe.”

“Oh? And just who was I?” Brendon asks, genuinely interested in hearing Ryan’s answer.

Ryan shrugs. “You were someone I could trust with everything. You were someone who had a good head on his shoulders and always did right by his friends. You’ve changed, though. You changed before you even hit your head.” Ryan’s wearing his blank expression again, speaking in a monotone. Brendon frowns.

“Ryan, all of that’s based on… on your opinion of me. Maybe I haven’t changed.” Brendon pauses, and then laughs at himself. “Okay, well. Other than losing everything that was previously in my head.”

“What’re you saying?” Ryan asks hesitantly, not buying into Brendon’s attempt at lightening the mood.

Brendon sighs. He’s sleepy and doesn’t really feel like having this conversation right now. He isn’t even sure where this conversation is going or where it came from or what it’s based on. It seems to mean a lot to Ryan though, whatever it is they’re discussing.

He reaches out and tugs on Ryan’s shirt until the older boy looks at him. Then, he says, “I think it probably isn’t me who’s changed. Maybe just your opinion of me. You know, how you see me and all that jazz.”

Brendon expects Ryan to disregard the idea, as most prideful people would, but that isn’t what happens. Instead, Ryan seems to really consider Brendon’s words. His brows furrow in thought. “Maybe,” he finally admits.

Brendon hums to himself, trying to fill the holes in his memory. He can’t, though. Obviously. If it were just that easy, no one would have amnesia. “One day, I expect you to tell me everything that happened before, okay? One day when I’m ready, maybe.”

Ryan half-smiles, as if he’s unsure whether a smile would be appropriate or not. “Sure. If, one day, you’ll tell me what the hell you were thinking.”

“Deal,” Brendon says immediately, unwilling to ask what Ryan means. He’s sure he’ll find out eventually anyway.

-

Brendon wakes up super late the next morning. The house is nearly deserted. Everyone except Gerard (Brendon had eventually figured out which Way was which) is outside playing Frisbee and enjoying the beautiful day.

Brendon mumbles a hello to Gerard as he passes. He doesn’t want to be rude, but Gerard looks rather engrossed in his sketch, bent over it with his tongue poking out in a concentrated manner. Brendon doesn’t get any reply, but he doesn’t take it personally.

He notices two things immediately as he comes outside. One, Ryan is nowhere to be found. Two, Greta is playing Frisbee. In a sundress. With Gabe.

Brendon grins as he takes his seat next to Mikey, who is watching them throw the disc back and forth stoically, a smile in his eyes. “Wow. I never knew Greta could… jump that high,” Brendon says with a laugh.

“Greta can do anything,” Mikey says, like it should be obvious. And, okay. Brendon would have to agree.

“I would have to agree. She’s totally superwoman.”

Mikey smiles at this, and at the flaily move Pete pulls when Gabe purposely throws the Frisbee over his head for the millionth time. Jon stands from his Indian-style position on the ground and jogs to get it. He then bypasses an expectant Pete, and hands it to Greta. The two share a sweet smile that has Brendon feeling lonely. He sighs.

“I know, right?” Mikey laughs lowly. “They’re so disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Brendon hums his agreement and absolutely doesn’t wonder if he’s disgustingly perfect for Ryan or not.

-

An 2- Super short chapter, I know. My excuse is that I’ve been working on the Heedless in Rain sequel. And it was my birthday yesterday. \o/

Feedback is ♥

Heedless in Rain [24/24]

Mon, 05 May 2008 20:36:41 GMT

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 :]

Find Me [3/?]

Fri, 02 May 2008 19:02:55 GMT

Title: Find Me [3/?]
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg13- R, just to be safe.
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan
POV: Third
Summary: “Sorry, sorry,” Brendon mumbles, scrambling to his feet so he doesn’t look like a total idiot. And did he not just tell himself he wouldn’t even worry about Ryan Ross? But here he is feeling nervous and eager to be accepted. What the hell?
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: At the end.

[Prologue] [1] [2]

Chapter Three- five days ‘til I can breathe again

“You’re broken, and I’m broken, and we can’t make each other whole. That isn’t how it works. Two broken fragments don’t fit together like two halves. We’re the lost pieces of two different puzzles. We don’t go together, you and I. We can’t. It isn’t logical for us to cling to each other like this, trying over and over and over again… We’re only breaking apart further. It’s going to take that much more to fix us now. Let’s give up. Let’s throw our hands in the air and call it quits, like we should’ve a long time ago. Forget me.”

Brendon wakes with a start, sitting up so fast that he becomes dizzy. “Ugh,” he grumbles, and puts a hand to his head.

“Ryan Ross, you’re being ridiculous!”

Brendon jumps, twisting around to find the source of the noise. Greta has one of his windows open. She’s leaning out of it and yelling at Ryan, apparently, but there’s isn’t any venom in her voice, so Brendon figures she probably isn’t all that mad.

“What’s going on?” Brendon asks, voice thick with sleep. He stifles a yawn as he scrubs a hand over his face, his dream already forgotten.

Greta brings her upper body back into the house and slams the window shut with a huff. Brendon distantly notices that her sundress is blue today. “That boy,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. “Will he ever learn?”

“Probably not,” Brendon agrees, even though he has no idea what she’s talking about. “How are you so awake this early?”

She smoothes her hands over the front of her dress, fixing herself. “It’s already eight o’clock. I’m surprised you aren’t up already. You missed breakfast.” She waves a hand about airily for no reason at all. “I thought about coming to get you up, but I know you’re going through a lot right now, so I decided to let you sleep in. How’re you feeling?”

Your idea of sleeping in is eight o’clock?! Brendon thinks but doesn’t say. “Uh. I guess I’m feeling…” -like I need more sleep- “…okay.”

“Good!” Greta smiles brightly. “Because we have company coming over later! I know they’ll be excited to see you, even if you… aren’t.” She laughs. “I’m going to go so you can get dressed. Patrick will bring your breakfast up in a few minutes, okay?”

Brendon nods, trying to recall a Patrick. He thinks the short, chubby man he’d seen in the kitchen yesterday cooking their dinner is Patrick. So Patrick is the chef, then? He files this away for later.

Greta departs with one last smile, and Brendon drags himself out of bed. He hadn’t slept well last night, due to bad dreams he can’t even remember the first thing about, now.

He changes sluggishly into fresh clothes, not taking the time to search for anything better than a t-shirt and jeans. And he doesn’t bother with a brush. Just runs a hand through his longish, untidy hair and hopes that suffices.

He glances out the window, at the sprawling garden below. It takes him no time to spot Ryan. The boy is stretched out on a bench again, sock-clad feet dangling off the end, staring up at the sky.

Brendon wonders what he’s thinking about. He knows Ryan wouldn‘t answer him if he asked. Brendon snorts at himself and turns away from the window. He won’t bother with Ryan Ross. He doesn’t need any more problems, thank you.

-

“So, Greta said something about company?” Brendon asks, holding a small garden shovel in one hand and a clay flower pot in the other. He’s helping Jon, apparently.

Jon hums. He’s crouched down, working to gently remove a flower and all it’s roots from the soil. “Yeah. I heard something about that. It’s probably Gabe dropping by while he’s in town. Shovel.”

Brendon hands down the shovel. “Who’s Gabe?” The name sparks something in his memory. A flash of a tall man with curly hair and white teeth.

Jon laughs. “Who’s Gabe? No one knows, really. He’s a wanderer. He goes from place to place. He’s filthy rich. Sometimes, he takes people who need his help under his wing and gets them back on their feet. Calls himself a superhero.” There’s a pause in which Jon curses under his breath. “He’s a nice guy, generally. If a little loud and self-righteous.”

“He sounds… interesting.”

“Oh, he is,” Jon assures with a chuckle. “He’s the reason Ryan’s here.” He holds up a hand and Brendon passes him the clay pot. “And before you ask,” Brendon snaps his mouth closed, for he‘d been about to do just that. “I’m not telling you anything about that. It’s not my story to tell.”

Brendon scrunches up his nose. “As if Ryan would tell me. Even if I asked, he’d blow me off.”

“You’re probably right,” Jon admits. “So ask Gabe. He’ll tell you anything. There’s no such thing as secrets with that guy.”

Brendon purses his lips as he thinks. Finally, he asks, “So what’re you down there doing anyway?”

Jon stands up, smiling. He presents a newly-potted flower to Brendon. “Greta wants to use it as a center-piece tonight at dinner. Isn’t it pretty?”

-

It’s right after lunch when Brendon runs into Ryan Ross. Literally runs into him. Like, head-on collision. Papers go flying everywhere, Ryan stumbles and almost falls, Brendon does fall. It looks ridiculously like a scene out of The Three Stooges, except Ryan’s far too graceful to be compared to any one of them (Brendon mentally curses at himself for thinking this).

“Sorry, sorry,” Brendon mumbles, scrambling to his feet so he doesn’t look like a total idiot. And did he not just tell himself he wouldn’t even worry about Ryan Ross? But here he is feeling nervous and eager to be accepted. What the hell?

Ryan gives him a wide-eyed look that Brendon can’t read for the life of him and bends to scoop up the papers that now lie at their feet. Brendon tentatively starts to help him, but stops after Ryan swats his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Brendon apologizes again for lack of anything better to say.

“I bet you are,” Ryan says, but it doesn’t sound cold or hateful, just blank.

“What does that mean?” Brendon wonders, honestly curious. But Ryan just shrugs and stands, doing his best rearrange the papers back into a proper stack, and maybe trying to put them back into the proper order. Brendon sighs. “Are you going to hate me forever?”

“Don’t be absurd. I don’t hate you.”

The tone in which Ryan says the words is no comfort at all, though. “It sure seems like you do,” Brendon points out.

Ryan stops shuffling with the papers and looks Brendon in the eye. “Brendon Urie, I do not hate you. I should, but I don’t. Just leave me alone and things will work themselves out.” And with that, he turns and walks away.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Brendon complains to himself, pouting. “Why so damn cryptic!?” he yells after the retreating boy, but Ryan does nothing to show he heard.

-

“Hi, Brendon,” Gabe greets him brightly, and Brendon feels an odd burst of something. Something that makes him grin right back at Gabe and say, with easy familiarity,

“Gabe! It’s good to see you!”

Gabe nods his agreement and tugs Brendon in for a friendly hug. “I told Greta you’d remember me. I’m not easy to forget, am I, B?”

Greta clucks her tongue and swats playfully at Gabe’s arm. “You’re easier to forget than you think you are, Gabriel Saporta.”

Gabe just laughs and lets go of Brendon to hug Greta, too. And, yeah. Brendon could get used to this. This light, happy atmosphere. It’s almost like Christmas time, he thinks, smiling.

“And I bring friends!” Gabe announces grandly.

-

Gabe’s friends are named William Beckett, Gerard and Mikey Way, and Pete Wentz. That’s all Brendon knows about them and it’s all he’s supposed to know about them. This fact makes him inexplicably happy.

They all sit around the dinner table, falling into easy conversation with one another. Brendon, for the most part, remains silent, happy to listen and speak when spoken to (he ignores the fact that everyone is carefully avoiding talking about anything to do with his amnesia or what he‘s forgotten). He’s seated beside one of the Way’s. He isn’t sure which one (Gabe hadn’t specified. Just lumped together and titled them GerardandMikey), but he’s like Brendon, and only talks if someone asks him a question.

The other Way, William, and Pete are all chattering loudly, though. Pete especially, who lets out a ‘whoop’ of excitement when dinner is served, and then whistles at Patrick, who blushes furiously and stumbles over his own feet trying to leave the room as quickly as possible.

Thing quiet down a little as everyone starts eating, and this is when Ryan decides to make his appearance. He slips into the room noiselessly, and then into his seat. The only empty one left at the table. The one right next to Brendon, who’d hoped against hope that that seat would remain empty all night long.

Gabe takes this as his cue to start talking, as if he’d been waiting on Ryan to arrive. Which, maybe he had been.

“Greta, Spencer,” he starts. “I’ve got a favor to ask the two of you.”

Greta and Spencer both nod, as if they’d been expecting this all along, and continue eating.

“My friends here need a place to stay,” Gabe says, apparently not one to beat around the bush. “I was hoping you’d take them in, just for a little while, until they can build themselves back up.”

Greta and Spencer share a look with each other, having a silent conversation. They seem to come to a decision. “You know we’re always happy to help out, Gabe, and we’ve got plenty of room. Of course they can stay with us.” Greta smiles kindly.

“Excellent.” Gabe cracks his knuckles, and apparently this signifies the end of their brief conversation, because the chatter starts up again.

Brendon chances a glance at Ryan and notices that his plate is empty. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

Ryan nods, smirking, and snatches the bread off Brendon’s plate. Brendon laughs and doesn’t ask for it back. At least Ryan isn’t yelling at him.

-

An 2- I’m in a good mood today. Are you? I hope so. It‘s raining here. /random

Feedback = ♥

Fluff Without Plot

Thu, 01 May 2008 05:31:20 GMT

Title: FWP (Fluff Without Plot)
Author: neverxnever
Rating: Pg
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
POV: Third
Summary: Just a bit of fluff for roadsidefury, because I’m awful and made Gerard evil in my fic. I have to make it up to her somehow, don’t I? Hope you like it, bb, even though it’s not smut and it’s short <3
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: Fluff galore! I was re-reading Eclipse, a book by Stephenie Meyer, and this happened. This is a slightly different, slashy take on a sweet scene in the book. Hope it makes you smile!

Frank wakes up in the middle of the night and it takes him longer than it should to realize that Gerard is hovering over him. He blinks, confused.

“Sorry,” Gerard says quickly, quietly. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.” He smiles, unsure of himself. The dark circles under his eyes indicate that he hasn’t had much sleep.

“It’s okay,” Frank whispers, hands reaching out for Gerard’s in the dark. He finds them and tugs, pulls until Gerard gives in and, without letting go of Frank’s hands, crawls into bed. “It’s okay,” Frank repeats. He can see the troubled set of his mouth, the fear lingering in Gerard’s eyes.

Gerard’s arms circle around Frank, pulling him close and cradling him to his chest, as if Frank’s the one who needs comfort. “Had a nightmare,” he mumbles into Frank’s hair, as if Frank hadn’t already known.

Frank’s only response is to shift in Gerard’s arms and plant kisses along his neck, his jaw, and finally his mouth. They kiss softly for a moment, until Gerard pulls back, laughing lightly. “You’re usually grumpy when you first wake up. I’m kind of disappointed.”

“Maybe I’ll yell at you in the morning,” Frank teases, planting another kiss on Gerard’s lips, tugging with his teeth when he pulls away. “When I’m all sleep deprived and you eat the last Poptart just to spite me.”

Gerard pretends to be offended, but then gives it up. It isn’t like it hasn’t happened before.

Frank’s breath catches when Gerard’s hand moves, sliding down his side, over his hip and thigh, to rest on his calf, and then to hitch Frank’s leg over his hip. Gerard leans forward, lips moving in the hollow at the base of Frank’s throat as he says, “I wish we weren‘t at this fucking mansion. ‘m homesick.”

Before Frank can come up with a response, Gerard rolls to the side, so Frank is on top of him. His breathing becomes almost embarrassingly loud when Gerard starts to bite at his neck.

“I don’t know,” Frank manages to say. “This would be pretty hard to do in a bunk.”

Gerard laughs. It tickles. “I wish we were at home.”

Frank shrugs. “This would be pretty hard to do on an unassembled bed,” he amends.

Gerard laughs again and rolls so he’s above Frank, propped up on his elbows. He stares down at the younger man thoughtfully for a moment, until Frank leans up to trace the shape of Gerard’s lips with his tongue.

“You fucker,” Gerard says without venom, a smile tugging at his lips. He swoops down and kisses the tip of Frank’s nose. “I’ve got something for you,” he says quickly, voice laced with excitement.

“Ugh, don’t go,” Frank complains when Gerard slides out of the bed. But Gerard doesn’t listen to him, just pads quietly out of the room and returns a moment later, something clutched behind his back. The door clicks shut, more padding, and then the bedside lamp flickers to life. Frank groans and shields his eyes until they adjust to the light

“Tah-da!” Gerard sounds nervous, almost. It’s cute, Frank thinks with a smile.

He lowers his hand away from his face, and his smile widens. “Wow. It’s…” Frank trails off, unable to find an adjective that suits it.

Gerard holds the sketch out like he’s presenting it to a crowd of people. It’s of Frank and his guitar. Or, of Frank cuddling with his guitar. He’s lying on the couch, arms wrapped around the instrument, asleep. It was drawn with obvious haste, but it’s still remarkable.

Frank takes the picture out of Gerard’s hands, traces the pencil lines with his fingers. “I remember this day,” he says, smiling. The bed sinks as Gerard crawls back in next to him. “You kissed me for the first time. Right after I woke up. I thought I was dreaming, at first.”

Gerard nods, seemingly glad that Frank remembers. “Do you like it?” he presses, anxious to know what Frank thinks, even though it should be obvious.

Frank tears his eyes away from the picture to kiss Gerard on the cheek. “Duh,” he says. “It’s fucking amazing, dude.” There’s a pause before he adds, teasingly, “I didn’t know you could be so romantic, Gee. Be careful or I might start expecting it.”

“Okay, Princess,” Gerard says around a yawn. “From now on, when I want to surprise you, I’ll kick you.”

Frank stifles a yawn, too. He glances at Gerard, checks for any sign of fear in the other mans eyes, and finds none. “We need sleep,” he announces, and sets the drawing gently on the nightstand. “Come on,” he says, and pushes at Gerard’s shoulder until they’re both lying down. Then he snuggles into Gerard’s side.

Gerard grabs Frank gently by the jaw and pulls him forward to kiss him again. “Thanks, Frankie. You always know how to distract me.”

Frank smiles, proud. “That I do,” he agrees. And then, “G’night, Gee. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

-

Heedless in Rain [23/?]

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 18:36:50 GMT

Title: Heedless in Rain [23/?]
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: This is where Brendon suddenly wishes he made a habit out of asking ‘who is it’ before opening the door, because he is not at all prepared for who’s standing on the other side.
Disclaimer: I do not own/know anyone mentioned in this piece of FICTION.
Author Notes: Ryan is a GHOST in this story. I don’t foresee that it’ll be too scary, though. 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]

Chapter Twenty-three

Brendon wakes up in a position that would only be comfortable if someone were lying next to him. The other side of the bed is still warm, so it must’ve just stopped raining. But the light coming through his bedroom window is gray and bleak and Brendon holds out hope that it’ll start up again.

He rolls over to glance at his clock and finds a note on his nightstand. It simply says, in cramped, spidery handwriting, I love you. -Ry

-

Brendon finds Frank staring blankly at the TV screen, black because it hasn’t even been turned on.

“Um, Frank?” Brendon says quietly, snapping Frank out of his reverie. He quickly reaches for the remote and switches the TV on, making an effort to look like he’s been watching it the whole time. Brendon sighs and sinks into the empty seat beside Frank on the couch. “Did you sleep well?” he asks even though he already knows the answer.

“No,” Frank answers honestly, voice rough with exhaustion. “I was up all night… thinking about what I’m going to do now. It’s… hard to imagine my life without him.”

“I know what you mean.” And Brendon does. He smiles inwardly as he thinks about the note that now sits, folded, in his pocket. “But you’ll get through it. Things will be okay eventually.”

“Eventually,” Frank repeats, followed by a humorless laugh. “I really don’t think they will be, Brendon. Do you know what he told me, right before he died?” He doesn’t pause long enough to let Brendon answer. “He told me he was in love with me. And do you know what I told him?” Frank lets his head fall into his hand, his next words muffled. “I told him I didn’t feel the same way. But I was harsh about it, and he left. And got killed.”

“Oh, Frank,” Brendon says, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy and pulling him close. “Frank, why did you tell him that?”

“Because I thought it was true,” Frank whispers, blinking back tears. “But it wasn’t. I did love him Do love him.” He pulls back rather suddenly, slips out of Brendon’s embrace. “Where’s Ryan?” he asks, an attempt to switch the subject. Brendon doesn’t blame him.

“Oh. He, uh. Left?”

Frank gives him a puzzled look. “No he didn’t. I’ve been sitting here all night. No one left.”

Brendon opens his mouth to spew a half-assed lie when someone knocks on the door. “I’ll get it!” he says quickly, and jumps up from the couch.

This is where Brendon suddenly wishes he made a habit out of asking ‘who is it’ before opening the door, because he is not at all prepared for who’s standing on the other side.

Gerard is leaning against the door frame, looking relaxed and casual and artistic, in his paint spattered clothes. The blue scarf is nowhere to be seen. Brendon actually has to remind himself that this is the man who killed Mikey, and who might kill Frank.

Brendon’s eyes widen. He makes a quick move to slam the door and lock it, but Gerard throws his weight up against it and manages to push his way inside. Before Brendon even has time to move his hands from the door knob, Gerard’s pulled out a gun (and, wow. Brendon doesn’t think he’s ever been so terrified in his life) and points it at Frank, who’s just stood up from the couch.

“Move and I’ll shoot him,” Gerard directs at Brendon, who holds up his shaking hands in surrender, his brain working wildly, trying to find a way out of this dangerous situation. He doesn’t want Frank to die. He doesn’t want to die. Oh, God.

“Gerard, what are you doing?” Frank asks, somehow managing to sound calm, voice not wavering one bit.

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” Gerard doesn’t sound angry, or annoyed, or like a murderer. He sounds calm, too. They both sound like they expected this, like they expected they’d end up in this exact position someday. Brendon gets the feeling they already know how this is going to end. That thought unsettles him a lot.

Frank ignores Gerard’s question. “Why did you kill Mikey?” he asks instead, and Brendon can see the way he has to force out the name, like it causes him physical pain to say it.

“Because he wouldn’t cooperate- don’t move, asshole.” Gerard whips around to glare at Brendon, who’d been trying to edge away, to get the phone and call the police. He instantly becomes still upon being noticed.

“If… If I let you have me, will you let Brendon go?” Frank asks, but he doesn’t sound hopeful. “Will you let him live?”

“Fuck no. He’s seen me, he knows who I am. I’m not an idiot, Frankie.”

Brendon swallows hard around the lump in his throat, wondering how this happened, and why it happened so suddenly. And where is Ryan? Why won’t it start raining again?

It takes considerable effort on his part to not start crying.

“I won’t tell on you,” Brendon whispers, sounding as small as he feels. “If you let us both go, I won’t tell on you.”

Gerard keeps his eyes and the gun trained on Frank. “I don’t believe you,” he says simply. “I’m going to kill you both and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

There’s a sharp whistle. Startled, Gerard wheels around and, Brendon isn’t sure if his finger slips or if he means to fire, but he shoots. And the bullet hits Ryan. Brendon knows better than to freak out, but Frank doesn’t. The short man cries out and lunges forward and Brendon rushes to grab Frank before he gets to Gerard.

“Stop it! He’ll just shoot you!” Brendon hisses at Frank, who’s still fighting against Brendon’s hold on him.

“He just shot your fucking boyfriend, Brendon!”

Brendon nudges Frank to get him to look at Ryan, who is solid, yes, but unharmed. There’s blood everywhere, but he doesn’t seem to be in any pain and he doesn’t seem to be getting weaker. Ryan should be dead (would be if he weren‘t already), probably. There’s a big hole in his chest where the bullet went through. Frank and Gerard both stare in shock.

Gerard recovers first, swings back around to point the gun at Frank, and then several things happen at the same time.

Brendon pulls Frank behind him, Ryan moves to knock the gun out of Gerard’s hand, and Gerard pulls the trigger.

-

An 2- One hell of a cliffhanger, eh? I may or may not be pure evil. But at least now there’s another chapter left, and maybe an epilogue.

I love my readers, I really do. I dnw this to end, tbh.

Feedback is amazing ♥