He Sees Dead People: Requiem - Soracha - The Outsiders (2024)

Chapter 1: YOU CAN SEE ME

Chapter Text

Ponyboy was cursed! It was the only explanation for all the stuff that had been happening to him lately. Yeah, that had to be it. He was cursed and it all started with the feeling of dread that he felt when his second-eldest brother, Soda, asked him if he wanted to tag along on his date with this new girl that he met a month ago. To be more accurate, Soda asked him if he wanted to come along on his double date since Steve was still with Evie. In other words, he asked Ponyboy to be the fifth wheel, which he just didn’t find so appealing.

When Soda asked him, Steve was glaring daggers at him, silently telling him that he shouldn’t come, and Ponyboy was just fine with that! He didn’t want to go either. But Soda asked him. Whenever that happened, Ponyboy always found himself accepting.

“Come on, Pony, please?” Soda begged, pressing his hands together like he was praying. He put on the best puppy-dog eyes that he could muster and Ponyboy felt his resolve crumbling in an instant. Why did he have to be so good at that? “It’s going to be a lot of fun, I promise!”

Ponyboy highly doubted that. He was probably going to be miserable and uncomfortable the entire time. He could just imagine it—having to just sit and do nothing but take their glares. He wouldn’t be able to bring a book to make time go by faster because then they would complain that he was being anti-social. He couldn’t interact with them because then they would complain that he was being annoying. There was really no winning for him. Still, he forced out, “Okay, I’ll go.”

He was going to regret this later.

“Tagalong,” Steve bit, rolling his eyes when Soda left with a skip in his step. “Why do you always have to come along?”

“Soda was the one who invited me,” Ponyboy defended with a glare.

“He was only doing that because he felt sorry for you. All you do is mope around the house all day. You should have said no. We’re taking the girls. Do you know how embarrassing it is to tell them that we have to babysit some kid too?”

Ponyboy gritted his teeth and curled his hands into fists. He knew that he should have said no. Soda has been inviting him more frequently these days. At first, he thought it was because he was getting over Sandy, but he kept inviting him. Usually, Ponyboy would have brought Johnny along so he would have some company. However, that was when he was still alive.

It had been a couple of months since both Johnny and Dally passed away and Ponyboy hadn’t been taking it well. Whenever he wasn’t at school, he was in his room doing something to distract himself. The house felt empty these days. A void had been created that could never be filled no matter how loud it was. The gang tried their best to make up for them, but it just wasn’t the same.

“Trust me, I don’t want to hang around you either,” Ponyboy grumbled. “Just one minute is too much.”

“How do you think I feel about you ruining my date?” Steve growled. He opened his mouth to say something else but, before he could do that, Soda returned with a bright smile on his face.

“Ready to go?” he chirped. Steve shot Ponyboy one last glare before he stomped out of the house. Ponyboy dragged his feet after him. He seriously didn’t want to go. Hopefully, time would pass quickly, but he knew that that was wishful thinking.

The date wasn’t fun whatsoever. Just like what he expected, it was miserable and awkward. When the girls saw that he came along, they couldn’t help but express their disappointments. Maggie, Soda’s new girl, was especially upset and she didn’t hold back when it came to expressing it. Her green eyes pierced the back of Ponyboy’s neck and her smile was tight, even when she was talking to Soda. Of course, Soda remained oblivious to it all, too far infatuated with her Shirly Temple curly, blonde hair and her curvy body. In a way, she kind of reminded him of Sandy, body feature-wise. Even though Sandy didn’t end up being the person everyone thought she was, Ponyboy still liked her better than Maggie. A whole lot better.

Somehow though, Ponyboy made it through. Soda tried to make the experience less miserable for him—he really did—by trying to include him in activities and conversations, but none of the other people wanted him there. Eventually, Soda started to catch on that Ponyboy didn’t want to be there either, and planned to end the date a little earlier for him. Pony was almost home free as he sat in the backseat of Steve’s car while they drove the girls back home. That was when Steve grinned at him through the rearview mirror and Ponyboy knew that he was up to something no good.

“Why don’t we stop here?” Steve suddenly suggested, already turning on his blinker to a random, beat-up driveway that led to who knew where. As they drove across it, the car dipped and bumped, tossing the passengers around. Water from yesterday’s storm splashed the tangle of weeds as the tires crashed in each ditch.

“Where are we going?” Evie asked, voice jumping with each bump.

“Yeah, you’re not going to leave us stranded on a random property, are you?” Maggie asked, suspicious of the greasers. A “classy” girl like her must have thought they were going to kill her or something.

“Nah,” Steve answered. “There’s this abandoned house here. I thought it would be fun to explore it.”

Maggie’s face twisted in disgust. Her shrilled voice caused Ponyboy to cringe. Soda deserved someone way better than her. “Ew, no. I am not going inside an abandoned house. There are probably a bunch of hobos in there.”

“Don’t call them that,” Ponyboy said, earning another glare from her.

“That’s what they are! They’re just a bunch of bums who are sleeping in their own waste. There’re probably hundreds of needles everywhere too. It’s gross and dangerous in there.”

“There ain’t no hobos in there,” Steve reassured. “Just ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” Soda echoed, surprised that Steve was even bringing this up. Steve didn’t believe in them, so why…

“Seriously?” Evie giggled as if what he said was the funniest thing in the world. “That’s what you’re going with? Ghosts? Ghosts don’t exist.”

Again, Steve looked at Ponyboy through the mirror. “It’s true. There’re ghosts in there.”

That was when both Evie and Maggie followed Steve’s eyes to Ponyboy, and realization crossed their faces. Maggie, who decided to play along now (probably as revenge for him being there), asked, “Why are there ghosts there?”

“I don’t know, but years ago there were a bunch of disappearances happening.”

“Disappearances?” Soda asked, scratching his head. He clearly was missing the joke. “I don’t remember there being anything like that.”

“I think I’ve heard about it,” Evie hummed, joining in but ultimately hoping that Steve wouldn’t take things too far. “It happened a while ago.”

Steve nodded, “Rumor has it, this was the house that belonged to one of the victims. A young couple just bought it right before they went missing. There was even a huge search for them, but nobody found anything. They just disappeared and people eventually gave up.”

Wait, so Steve wasn’t pulling a joke or anything? This actually happened? If Evie said she heard about it, then this story was possibly true. Ponyboy trusted her a lot more than Steve. He leaned forward in his seat and asked, “So they never found anything?”

Steve held back a smile as he shrugged. “They did find something. It wasn’t too long after did the house went on sale again, and another young couple moved in. They were doing renovations and were tearing down the wallpaper when they noticed that it felt weird. They looked closer and saw some blemishes and hairs, and it was then that they realized…” Steve paused for effect. “It was human skin!”

Maggie shrieked while Evie stuck out her tongue in disgust. Meanwhile, Soda was laughing at Steve’s story since he figured out that it was a joke, while Ponyboy was horrified. Steve had to be pulling his leg and was trying to scare him or something. Who would do that to another person? But his doubt started to go out the window when he saw the house.

“Oh, look, here it is,” Steve announced.

The house was a safety hazard from just looking at it. It was old and half of the roof had already caved in. The outside of it wasn’t in any better shape either. The paint was chipped and, in areas where it was still there, it was faded by the weather—a lively lavender, it seemed like it was before. The windows and door were sloppily boarded up, allowing nothing to enter through those openings besides bugs and critters. Nature had already taken its course on the poor house, causing the structure to be so weak that it looked like the slightest of breezes could capsize it. And, during the dark night, as it was lit up by the full moon and the car’s headlights, the house somehow looked alive as if it was a trap that was waiting to swallow up its next victim.

Ponyboy couldn’t help but gulp, “I don’t know about this.”

“Are you scared?” Steve teased, powering off the car and turning the headlights off. “I knew you were a little kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Ponyboy instantly defended himself. “I just think it's dumb to go in, Steve. This place looks like it’s going to fall down at any moment.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Soda let out a small chuckle at their antics, and suggested, “It’s getting late. Maybe we should take the girls back home now.”

“It’ll only be for a few minutes,” Steve reasoned, turning his head to address the entire group. “What do you say?”

“We should go home,” Ponyboy said immediately. Please don’t make him go. He didn’t want to go inside!

“I think it could be fun,” Evie said and Ponyboy felt a bit of himself die on the inside.

“I mean, it’ll only be for a couple of minutes…” Maggie muttered.

Then everyone turned to Soda to make the final decision. Ponyboy tried to send silent messages to him, but he remained oblivious to them. It would only take Soda’s decision to change the tide. Still, despite being oblivious, Ponyboy still had hope. But, honestly, he should have learned by now to never get his hopes up.

“Well…” Soda started and Ponyboy knew that it didn’t look too good for him. He looked at Ponyboy with an apologetic look on his face and shrugged. “It could be fun, Pony, and it’ll only be for a few minutes.”

“No, Soda,” Ponyboy whined.

“If you want to stay in the car and wait for us, that’s fine,” Maggie suggested. She continued in a quieter tone so that only Ponyboy could hear her. “It’ll finally give us some space from you, like how it should have been from the beginning.”

Red covered Pony’s ears, and, before he knew what he was doing, he growled, “Fine!”

“Pony?” Soda said in surprise.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Ponyboy opened the car door and stepped out before anyone else could.

The rest of the group exited the car and walked closer to the house. It was hard to navigate the property, seeing how there were no headlights anymore and they had to rely on the dim glow that the moon provided. They pulled on some boards to see if any of them were loose, but none were. They could have tried to pull out the nails, but they weren’t planning on getting tetanus for this. Steve rounded the side of the house where he found a hole created by a fallen tree. He quickly called everyone over and, one by one, they all entered.

Somehow, the inside was in a worse shape than the outside. It was layered in dust, almost making it seem like an indoor snowstorm had hit. Some danced in the air and tickled their noses. There was a lot of graffiti on the stripped walls, depicting creepy images that Pony couldn’t make out. The furniture that was never removed was torn apart and probably had animals living in them. The group kept running into the furniture because of how much darker it was on the inside.

Ponyboy followed closely behind them as they explored. He tried his best to stay as close to Soda as possible, in particular. He didn’t like the place. There was something about it that didn’t seem right, and he didn’t know if that was his intuition or if he was just spooked. Something about it was heavy as if there was a weight on his chest that was so suffocating that it was hard to breathe. His head was spinning, vision swaying so much that he wanted to vomit.

The other four were joking around, which was great for them, honestly. Ponyboy wished he was that carefree. But his active imagination was making everything far worse than it should have been. While he walked, he had to shove his clammy hands into his pockets to hide how much they were trembling.

The floorboards creaked with each step they took, and it was even worse when they walked on the staircase. The boards became bent when they were on them, threatening to snap under their weight. It was when they got to the top did Ponyboy notice something odd.

With each step they took, he heard one extra pair of steps behind them. Ponyboy, who was at the back of the group, looked over his shoulder but didn’t see anything. He knew for sure that there wasn’t someone behind him either. The dark hallways were as empty as they could be. But it could have been nerves that were making him hear that, so he hurried up to catch back up with his brother.

Anxiety crept up his spine like a thousand little spiders, causing his heart to beat in his throat. The longer that he was there, the more things that he heard—footsteps, knocks, doors closing, and incomprehensible voices. And the longer that they were there, the more he just wanted to get out.

“Did you hear that?” Ponyboy whispered after he heard another door close.

“Hear what?” Soda asked, looking over his shoulder. Currently, they were checking out what used to be a bedroom. Soda had been messing with an old radio that wasn’t working anymore.

“I just heard a door open.”

“You’re just imagining things, kid,” Steve grumbled. He opened a closet and started to look through the contents. Suddenly, he chuckled and pulled a box out. He held it up for the group to see and Pony walked closer to read what the box said. It was an Ouija board. “Look at what I just found.”

“What is it?” Soda asked, walking over to get a closer look.

“It’s an Ouija board.”

Soda blinked. “Did you just say a weewee board?”

Steve let out a breath and repeated it but slower. “Ouija.”

“That makes more sense. What is it anyway?”

“It’s a board that lets you communicate with ghosts or something—real occult sh*t.”

“Thankfully, it’s not real,” Evie added. “People move the planchette to scare their friends. It’s just a prank.”

“A game is a game,” Steve said, that grin never falling from his face. “Why don’t we play for a bit?”

It was just a game—some silly prank that was supposed to scare people. But even if that was so, none of them actually wanted to touch the board. Everyone shifted on their feet, clearly uncomfortable. Maggie was the first to voice her opinions like always, twirling the chain of her rosary with her fingers, “I don’t want to play. Those boards are for Satan worshipers. I don’t want to do anything revolving around demons.”

“We don’t even know if we would be able to speak to ghosts,” Steve began. “But why don’t we find out if this is real or not?”

Being real or not, Ponyboy did not want to get involved in a séance because what if it was true and he was going to be talking to something violent? The darkness of the room seemed to only get darker, closing in on him. And in that darkness, although he was sure he was seeing things, he saw horrific, twisted faces form. They all grinned crookedly at him, the corners of their mouths reaching to their eyes.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Ponyboy shook his head and said, “No. You said we were only going to be here for a few minutes. We should get going now.”

However, Soda shrugged his shoulders and gave him that innocent look again. “It’s just a game. Nothing can happen. This will be the last thing we do before we go, I promise. Nothing will happen to you.”

Ponyboy felt himself die on the inside again. Steve was still smirking as he opened the dusty box and pulled out the board. He fished out a few candles that were also in the closet and lit them with his lighter. The flames that were produced didn’t provide much light nor did they do any good to soothe Pony’s nerves. The shadows danced around them, following the movement of the flames—casting figures that weren’t actually there.

Soda, Steve, and Evie all sat down around it and Maggie plopped down next to Soda with a, “My dad is going to kill me if he finds out about this.”

Then, they all looked at Ponyboy expectingly. The younger boy’s lips pressed tightly together. Standing there while the others were sitting down only made him feel even more exposed.

“Oh, don’t tell me that you actually believe that there’re ghosts,” Steve loudly taunted. Ponyboy felt his ears become red. Sometimes he wanted to glue Steve’s mouth shut forever, but Soda was there so he couldn’t argue.

“Steve, don’t tease him too much,” Soda chuckled and, if possible, Ponyboy’s ears became even redder, hidden by the low lighting. He couldn’t have been more embarrassed. Truthfully, he had believed in Steve’s story. He also believed that there were paranormal forces that nobody could explain. That was why he walked right into Steve’s trap.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Ponyboy defended and sat down hard on the dirty floor. He crossed his legs and gripped his ankles to hide how much they were shaking.

“Sure, kid,” Steve said, putting the planchette, a wooden device that looked like a large guitar pick with a circle punched out in the middle, on the board. The board itself was beat-up and scratched, showing how often it had been used in the past. Carved into it was the entire alphabet, the numbers zero to nine, and the words yes and no on the top corners of it. On the bottom was the word goodbye. That bravado he gained right before he sat down was whisked away just looking at it.

“How do we play?” Soda asked, not one sign of fear on his face.

“Everyone needs to put two fingers on this,” Steve began to explain. He placed his fingers on the planchette and everyone else did the same. “Then we just ask it questions.”

“Seems simple enough,” Evie said. “What should we ask it, Steve? Since you’re the one who suggested we play.”

“Uh…” Steve thought for a moment, not having thought of possible questions beforehand. “Who’s here?”

For a long while, nothing happened and the fast beating of Ponyboy’s heart started to slow down. Maybe there weren’t ghosts after all.

“Maybe we need to ask it in a different way,” Evie suggested. Then she called out. “Is there anyone here that would like to speak with us?”

There was another pause. At first, the planchette didn’t move, but then it did. It was slow, moving at a snail's speed. Ponyboy’s heart must have stopped at that moment. It screeched across the board until the circle in the middle stopped at the word yes.

No way.

Absolutely no way.

This couldn’t be happening.

Ponyboy’s arm went stiff, and his stomach plummeted even more. Something else had its hands on the planchette and was moving it. That thought was almost enough to make him pull away.

“Maggie, why don’t you try asking something?” Soda suggested and Maggie jumped. Her eyes went buggy wide, and her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“Uh—What’s your name?” she let out, voice squeaking.

Slowly, the planchette moved.

M… A… S… O… N…

“Mason?” Ponyboy repeated. He glanced up at Steve who looked like he was trying to hold in laughter, then everything clicked. He glared. “Steve, you’re moving it!”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Steve defended himself, not even trying to hide his lie.

“You are!”

“Let’s just continue,” Soda tried to mitigate, a trickle of sweat falling down his temple despite the cool temperature.

“What’s the point? Steve’s just going to move it,” Ponyboy mumbled but placed his fingers back on the planchette anyway. He had removed it when he figured out what Steve was doing. Seriously, what was the point of playing? This had been one giant prank since the beginning.

“Ponyboy, why don’t you try asking something this time?”

Ponyboy thought for a moment, brain running blank on questions. Maybe he should pick something that Steve wouldn’t want to answer—something he didn’t like to talk about. But that was another problem. He didn’t know Steve enough. He searched through all of his memories for something that he could use—anything that he could have been related to.

Then a memory came to him that he had almost forgotten due to the effects of time. He remembered a time when his family struggled to pay for food. His parents were still alive at the time. He didn’t remember many details about the event, but, right before their trip to the store, the money had disappeared. His parents tried to search for it, but not even a penny was found. They managed to get food in the end, but it still caused a lot of stress. To this day, Ponyboy didn’t know what happened to it, but he remembered how Steve had acted tense and weird around his family for a couple of weeks around that time.

It was a shot in the dark, but maybe this was able to solve that mystery…

“What happened to the money that disappeared when my parents were alive?” Ponyboy finally asked. Soda and Steve looked at him in surprise.

“You can’t ask that,” Steve said, looking nervous but still holding a smile.

“Why not?”

“You’re supposed to ask about the ghost.”

But weren’t Ouija boards supposed to be used for answering all sorts of questions? Why couldn’t he ask this? Besides, Steve was just going to move the planchette himself. So, why was he so nervous?

Slowly, the planchette started to move. This time, it moved rougher as if it was struggling against a resisting force. Two words were spelled out.

S T E V E

S T O L E

Steve’s smile fell from his lips and his skin turned a sickly green. His trembling mouth opened and closed. His voice shook as he spoke, “How…”

“Steve… You…” Soda started, frowning. “You stole from my parents?”

“I… I…” Steve looked lost, sweat trickling down his temples. “I did but I… I…”

Was this true? Why would Steve even admit to this at all if it wasn’t? If he was acting, he was doing a damn good job at selling it. But Ponyboy had a feeling that he wasn’t because he had never seen him act like this before. Still, Ponyboy had to be cautious. He wasn’t about to be teased again. He glared and accused, “You’re moving it again. How could you even joke about this?”

“W-What? No, I didn’t…” Steve sputtered, snapping his attention to Ponyoby. His eyes were unfocused.

“Seriously, you have to stop messing with us. It’s not even funny anymore,” Maggie said, looking disgruntled.

“I didn’t move it.” That sentence alone sent chills down their spines.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Sure. Magic moved it.”

“I don’t think he’s messing with us this time,” Soda defended, leaning forward to make out Steve’s features more. He had known him since diapers and had been with him through thick and thin. There was something wrong. Steve wouldn’t admit to something like this, let alone lose his cool so easily. He wasn’t mad about what Steve had done, though he was a bit disappointed. The event happened so long ago and even Soda had almost forgotten about it. During that time, Steve was having family issues, so he assumed that it was correlated with that. But that was beside the point. Were they actually talking to someone? “I think we’re speaking to someone.”

It sounded crazy and all of them wanted to convince themselves that this was a prank because they would all rather deal with that than the paranormal. However, looking at everyone’s pale faces, all of them had to believe in it, even a little bit.

“Should we keep going?” Evie asked and Ponyboy looked at her like she was crazy. If they were actually speaking to something paranormal, they needed to stop immediately. This wasn’t a joke anymore. “I mean, if there’s something here, we might as well ask it questions. That’s the whole point of the board.”

Pony thought that the whole point of the board was to play pranks on other people.

“I don’t know about that…” Maggie murmured.

“Only a few questions,” Evie promised. “If it gets out of control, then we’ll end it immediately.”

Christ, why were they even doing this? They all placed their fingers back on the planchette, but Ponyboy struggled to do so. His fingers were shaking so badly that they couldn’t keep still enough to do so. As soon as his fingertip lightly touched the wood, the darkness around him grew darker.

“Who are we speaking to?” Maggie asked, wishing that nothing would happen.

This time, it didn’t take long for the planchette to move. But, instead of an expected name, what was written out was Y O U K N O W.

“We know what?” Evie repeated but wasn’t answered directly. Instead, a short sentence came out that sent shivers down all of their spines once again.

T H E Y L L

K I L L

M E

“Who’s going to kill you?” Steve questioned, snapping back into it.

It was still. His question wasn’t answered.

“Seriously, we should stop,” Ponyboy said, removing his hand from the planchette. Maggie did too, agreeing with the twerp for once.

“That’s it. I’m done,” she said, standing up. She didn’t even bother to wipe off the dust that clung to her skirt. “This is creepy. I’m leaving and you should all come with me too.”

She started to walk away, and the planchette started to move again in time with the click of her heels.

D O N T

G O

“It said to not go,” Soda repeated, looking back and forth from the board to his girlfriend. Obviously, something wanted them to continue playing. “I think you need to sit down and keep going.”

“No!” Maggie screamed, whirling around. “I want to go home! This was supposed to be a nice date, not some séance. You promised that I would have a fun time and I’m scared, Soda!”

Funny. Ponyboy was promised the same thing.

“But the board—” Soda started, rubbing his arms at how cold it suddenly was

“Who cares about the stupid board or some stupid spirits! Sorry for my foul mouth but they need to screw off!”

At that moment, a door was slammed shut somewhere inside the house. The noise was so loud that they could feel it in their souls. All of them jumped, hearts leaping to their throats. Steve cursed under his breath in time with Maggie’s scream.

“sh*t. Goddamn,” he hissed.

“I don’t think it wants you to leave,” Evie gasped, scooting closer to Steve. They should have listened to their intuitions and stopped playing when they had the chance.

Maggie looked conflicted. She looked at the door and then back to the board, biting her bottom lip. She scrunched up her face as she sat back down.

Then things started to get paced differently. Whatever they were speaking to moved the planchette even faster, so quickly that the people who were still touching it almost fell forward. It screeched as it moved, creating new scratch marks on the wood.

“What’s happening?” Ponyboy asked but nobody answered him.

S T O P N O W

What did the ghost want? First, it didn’t want them to stop playing, but now it wants them to. It was pulling them everywhere just as quickly as the planchette was moving.

H E R E

H E S H E R E

H E S E E S Y O U

“Who’s here?” Soda asked. “Who sees us?”

D E M O N

The planchette stopped, screeching to a halt. Everything became absolutely silent—not even a cricket was heard. All of them had the urge to hold their breaths because of it. Even though the heaviness that they were feeling was unbearable before, it somehow got worse. The pressure that was on their chest pressed even harder, making it difficult to breathe.

“We need to stop. We’re saying goodbye,” Soda finally declared, trying to drag the planchette to the word goodbye. However, it just wouldn’t budge, as if it had been super glued to the surface.

NO, the planchette moved to immediately, dragging everyone still connected against their wishes.

Soda clenched his jaw. “Yes. You aren’t speaking to us anymore.”

W A T C H M E

Just as they thought that the planchette couldn’t have done anything weirder, it started to move around again. This time, it only spelled out one word.

L O O K

L O O K

L O O K

L O O K

L O O K

It started off slow, but, with each time, the speed went faster until it was going too fast for anyone to keep up. They were forced to let go, but even though everyone wasn’t touching it, it kept moving.

“That thing is moving by itself,” Ponyboy said, digging his fingers into his arms. “How… How is it doing that?”

“I… I don’t know,” Soda whispered, watching it move around, spelling that same word.

“Look where?!” Steve asked. “Why is this guy repeating this?”

L O O K

L O O K

L O O K

L O O K

“Maybe you’re asking the wrong thing,” Soda tried, gulping. “Who? Who do you want to look?”

Immediately, the planchette slid across the board towards Ponyboy. Nobody was touching it but it still moved as if it was pushed. Ponyboy paled even more.

No.

This couldn’t be happening.

Why him?

He didn’t want to pick it up.

His vision narrowed, eyes stinging as sweat fell into them. Ponyboy swallowed the lump in his throat. He lifted a hand and slowly reached it towards the planchette. He didn’t want to do this. He wanted to be home where it was safe. He was scared but not enough to not pick up the planchette. He didn’t want to make whatever was there angry.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Soda said, but deep down, they all knew that something bad would happen if he didn’t do it. His brother was frowning, eyebrows pinched together in worry. Ponyboy hated to see him look at him like that because he knew that it was him who had caused it. It was his fault that he was so obviously scared. Maybe that was the reason why the ghost chose him—he was the weakest link; the lamb that couldn’t run as fast as the herd.

He could do this. Nothing was going to happen to him. Nobody would allow that to happen. That was what Ponyboy tried to convince himself anyway.

“It’s okay,” Ponyboy forced out, hands shaking just as much as his voice. He could hardly keep the planchette up as he lifted it to his eyes. He peered through the center. At first, nothing seemed to be off and Ponyboy almost let out a sigh of relief. He looked around the room, going from face to face with the people he was with—all five of them.

Five?

Ponyboy went still. Besides him, there were only supposed to be four. He went from Soda to Steve… to Evie… and then his eyes stopped on a figure that was looming over Maggie’s shoulder, arms wrapped around her seemingly unaware body. The figure was like a shadow—all dark and misty—but still so clear and solid. Its neck was long and twisted as if it had been spun around a hundred times, curved so that it could look at Ponyboy with its empty eye sockets. Its mouth was large, and teeth crooked and rotten, smiling cartoonishly at him.

Holy sh*t. sh*t! sh*t! sh*t! What is that? What the f*ck is that?

Tears started to form in his eyes, pupils shrinking despite it being dark. He could feel everything in his body go icy cold to the point where his fingers went numb. Its mouth moved, letting out no sounds but Ponyboy was able to read its lips perfectly, Do you see me?

He tried to rip the planchette from his face, but his arms weren’t listening to him, frozen by his fear.

He could see it! f*ck! He could definitely see it!

“Ponyboy?” Soda asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

But Ponyboy didn’t respond, and the group watched the tears drip down his face.

“Ponyboy! Snap out of it,” Soda tried again more insistently, this time shaking his brother.

“YOU CAN SEE ME,” the figure said, voice now audible and somehow right next to his ear. The head of it spun around, neck stretched long, as it lunged across the group towards Ponyboy. He barely had enough time to throw the planchette across the room. As soon as he did, the figure disappeared.

“Are you alright?” Soda asked, trying to get his brother to look at him.

“I want to go,” Ponyboy muttered, mouth dry. He stood up on wobbly legs.

“What did you see?” Maggie questioned but Ponyboy didn’t answer her. He just turned around and started to walk out the door. The group had to scramble to their feet to catch up with him.

“I want to go,” Ponyboy repeated himself. Soda and Steve glanced at each other. They had never seen Ponyboy act this way—never had seen him so scared that he wasn’t able to look anywhere but forward. They had seen what he was like after his nightmares plenty of times, but this was different. After his nightmares, he was able to snap back to his old self pretty quickly. This time, his face remained impassive despite the shrunken pupils and tears, and his skin was clammy and pale. His entire hands were quivering, unable to still themselves.

They kept asking him questions, but Ponyboy didn’t answer them.

Get out. He had to get out and away from that thing.

Christ, what was that? It almost got him. f*ck, it almost got him!

As soon as they left the house, Ponyboy felt a lot better instantly. The weight on his body lifted and he didn’t have to puke anymore. He wiped the snot and tears from his face as he got back in the car.

It was only when they drove away did Ponyboy feel safe again. It was also when the questions started back up.

“What happened back there?” Steve asked, pressing on the accelerator harder to go faster. “What did you see?”

“I don’t know,” Ponybo replied. Christ, what even was that?

Ponyboy opened his mouth before he closed it again. He didn’t want to think about the figure again. He would have preferred to gouge his own eyes out over that. Talking meant remembering and he wanted to stuff that memory in the darkest corners of his mind. Besides that, would they even believe him? Sure, they all experienced something unexplainable, but what Ponyboy saw went beyond that. He glanced at Maggie, making sure that thing wasn’t still holding onto her. Luckily, he didn’t see anything.

“What?” Maggie asked, giving him a pointed expression. “Is there something on my face?”

Ponyboy sighed, “Nothing. I saw nothing. I was just imagining things and got spooked, is all.”

Both Steve and Soda knew that he was lying. There was no way that his imagination could have spooked him that much. They didn’t push him though and Ponyboy was grateful that they didn’t ask anything else. It was better this way. It was better to just forget that this night had even occurred.

He leaned his head against the window zoned out the entire long drive back.

The next morning, Ponyboy was in the bathroom, pressing the dark bags under his eyes with his fingers. He didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, too scared to do so. He kept his body buried under his blanket, overheating and suffocating. Whenever he poked his head out to cool down and breathe, he saw a dark figure looming over the bed.

He knew that he was just seeing things, but it still creeped the sleep away.

Ponyboy turned on the faucet, cupping his hands to gather water. When the water was overflowing, he leaned forward and slashed it on his face to wake him up.

Forget. He needed to forget.

When he straightened his back and looked at his reflection again, he noticed that something was off. His reflection was staring back like what it was supposed to do, but that wasn’t what the problem was. His features were just… off. He blinked and when he reopened them, his image changed. His eyes were missing, leaving behind bloody sockets. His lips were twisted upward unnaturally. It was his face, but, at the same time, it wasn’t.

“DO YOU SEE ME?” his reflection asked, voice not matching his own. His reflection’s head twitched like a wind-up doll.

Ponyboy’s eyes widened before he quickly rubbed at them.

It wasn’t real. It was just his imagination.

When he pulled his hands away, his reflection was back to normal. He sighed in relief. Just his imagination…

He went to turn around but stopped immediately when he came face to face with a face. It smiled at him, rotten teeth falling onto the tile before dispersing into mist.

“YOU SEE ME!”

Chapter 2: What was going on?

Chapter Text

“YOU SEE ME!”

Ponyboy was frozen in fear. His knees were shaking, hands clutching at the bottom of his shirt. His mind was whirling, gears not clicking correctly. It was… It was one of those things. It looked different than the first one he saw back at that abandoned house. This one was larger and wider if you didn’t count that first one’s infinitely long neck. It breathed against his face, causing black mist to crash against it. And its empty sockets were like two abysses that were swallowing him whole.

It was going to get him. That was the thought that managed to make it through the panic. It was a monster.

His heart must have stopped at that moment. His chest tightened and his vision blurred. What was it going to do to him? Crush him between its gnarly teeth? Strangle him with its large hands?

No. He wouldn’t let himself die like that. Just the thought of him being found in the bathroom shredded apart was enough for him to vomit. He swallowed everything down.

He had to think of something.

“YOU SEE ME!” it wailed again, voice like the eerie wind of the night.

What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Think, Ponyboy. If it wanted someone to see it, then… maybe that was how he was supposed to turn everything around and get out of this situation. If it was asking if he were able to see it, then maybe he could trick it. It was worth a shot. He didn’t know what else he could try.

Somehow, he managed to tear his eyes away from it, looking around the small bathroom for something he could use. He needed to play the part of a regular person going about their normal day.

“Almost forgot to brush my teeth,” Ponyboy said, voice shaking so much that it was almost unbelievable. He let go of his shirt and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste. His fingers stumbled with the cap when he tried to take it off and he ended up squeezing way too much of the paste onto his toothbrush. He put the bristles into his mouth, scrubbing away at his teeth.

Just go away. Please, just go! Leave him alone already!

His eyes were locked on his own in the mirror, using himself as a point of focus so that he wouldn’t screw up. But even that was hard. He kept thinking about his twisted image from before. He scrubbed harder.

The figure moved behind him with silent footsteps. Not even a shuffle of garbs was heard from it. It leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“DO YOU SEE ME?” it asked. It didn’t look like it was planning on going anytime soon. Hearing the voice so close to his ear caused him to choke. The toothpaste stung his throat as some accidentally fell down it. His eyes watered but he brushed even harder, scratching his gums until they became red and sensitive.

Go away! Leave him alone!

He couldn’t keep brushing his teeth. Blood was slowly mixing with the residue. He pulled out the toothbrush, ignoring the dribble that clung to his chin. Ponyboy sloshed everything in his mouth and bent down to spit it all out.

Truthfully, he kind of believed that the thing would be gone by the time he would lift his head again. But Ponyboy wasn’t that lucky. He straightened his back, maintaining the best emotionless expression that he could manage. When his eyes refocused, the figure was even closer to him. It slammed its hands against the mirror, arms on both sides of Ponyboy’s head. The mirror shook as it did so. Ponyboy almost jumped when it did that. The only thing that stopped him was that thing’s chest that was almost touching the back of his head.

On the back of its hands, two eyes popped out, spinning around and looking all over the room before they landed on Ponyboy. The greaser cursed internally.

What the hell? Seriously, what the hell was that? Why wasn’t it going away? He was scared. So f*cking scared. His knees were about to give out at any moment.

What was next? He had to keep going. Clearly, brushing his teeth didn’t work.

Ponyboy raised his hands to his hair, leaning forward. The eyes moved, never once blinking or looking away. He combed through his hair and played with a few strands.

“Man, did I put too much in my hair?” Ponyboy asked himself. He kept playing with it, creating new styles that he would never use in public.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the misty figure moved away from him. It whined, “DOESNT SEE ME.”

Ponyboy continued his façade until it walked through the door and out of the room. He let out a breath, finally feeling safe enough to breathe. He could finally feel himself relaxing, knees bucking before collapsing in on themselves. He pressed his hands on his chest, feeling how fast it was beating.

He was safe. How was he safe? That thing—whatever it was—almost got him. If he were to have let out any sign that he could see it, it would have swallowed him whole. That was close—too close.

But seriously, what was that? It was one of those things again, and this time, Ponyboy knew for sure that it wasn’t his imagination. Something was there in the bathroom with him (the handprints left on the mirror were proof), and that same type of thing was in that abandoned house.

Ghost was the first word that popped up in his head. But was it really a ghost? It was the best noun that described it though. But that was impossible! They weren’t supposed to be real, and, even if they were, why was he suddenly able to see them? There were so many questions in his head that he didn’t have any answers to.

Even though he was scared and his brain was malfunctioning, Ponyboy managed to get back up. He had to pee—his fear had made everything unbearable—but he couldn’t bring himself to stay in that bathroom any longer. As embarrassing as it was, he was too scared to go to the bathroom by himself now.

He opened the door and slipped out. His eyes moved around the room. Fortunately, the ghost wasn’t there.

Christ, he had to figure this all out.

Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around one of his shoulders. His breath stopped short, pupils shrinking. Ponyboy instinctively scrunched up his shoulders. He dropped down to get away from the hand.

It was right behind him. He brought his hands to his ears. He should have been more careful. It was going to get him.

“Oh, man, you jumped so high!” came Two-Bit’s sudden voice behind him. He loudly laughed with his head thrown back. Ponyboy looked over his shoulder and pressed his hands against the carpet to prevent himself from toppling over. The ghost wasn’t there. It had been Two-Bit all along. He could have cried, and he sort of did. His eyes were watery, skin sickly pale and irises shaking. Two-Bit must have noticed how spooked he got from his small prank. He observed the younger greaser who wasn’t even hiding the fact that he was scared. It reminded him of Johnny and how he got after he was jumped. But Ponyboy hadn’t been jumped recently and he had been just fine yesterday. Two-Bit scratched the back of his neck, mood dampened. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you that much.”

“It’s fine… Yeah… no, it’s fine…” Ponyboy forced out. His lips quivered as he put on an unconvincing smile. He stood up, hugging himself.

Steve walked over at that instant and instantly caught sight of the tears that were in Ponyboy's eyes. Great. Here came the teasing. Steve huffed, “Kid, why are you crying now?”

Two-Bit bluntly answered for him, “I accidentally scared him too much.”

“Ponyboy, you alright?” Soda asked worriedly, standing next to his friend. Ponyboy stiffly nodded. His heart was still pounding.

“Two-Bit, you know you’re not supposed to scare kids,” Steve tutted, obviously taunting Ponyboy. “Don’t you know you could traumatize them? I – Kid, what are you doing?”

Ponyboy had zoned them out, trying to shake off the previous fear. He walked over to the window and peeked through the blinds, wanting to make sure that he was safe and to see if the previous ghost left out the front door. However, he wasn’t expecting to see another one of those ghosts out there. It was facing away from him, levitating over the sidewalk with only its toes brushing against the surface. The arms were so long that its fingertips almost reached its ankles.

The figure didn’t seem to be doing anything, but even though that was so, Ponyboy felt that same burst of fear that he felt with the other encounters.

They were everywhere. If he really thought about it, that would have made a lot of sense. The number of dead people outnumbered the living population by far. It was only natural for them to be everywhere. What wasn’t natural was being able to see them.

He stiffly looked back at the gang and pointed at the window.

“Do you see that?” Ponyboy asked the three other greasers. All of them looked at each other quizzically. They went over to see what he was looking at and to see why he was still spooked.

“See what?” Two-Bit asked over Ponyboy’s tensed-up shoulder.

“That.” It was so visible, so opaque, and in the open.

“The neighbor’s new mailbox?” Soda asked, confused.

Ponyboy shook his head. “No, not that.”

“There’s nothing there, kid. What are you trying to pull?” Steve sighed, moving away. The other three did too. Ponyboy didn’t know if he should cry or laugh. He felt like he was going crazy. It was there. Christ, he wasn’t trying to pull anything. There was something out there that was as clear as day. But this confirmed things. Ponyboy was the only person who could see them. But he didn’t want that to be so. If he had to see them, he just wanted at least one person that could understand him.

“You’re joking, right?” Ponyboy whimpered, trying to cling onto any string that he could. They were joking. They could see them too. Please… “It’s right there.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you’re seeing so we know what to look for?” Soda tried.

There was really no buttering up what he saw. Hi, his name was Ponyboy, and he could see dead people. Yeah, maybe not. If he said that, two things could happen. One, nobody would believe him, and they would think that he was messing with them. Or two, he would be thrown in the loony bin. He was certain that the gang wouldn’t do the latter to him though. “I saw a ghost.”

Well, there it goes. He actually said it. He pressed his lips together and waited for the damage. And just as he expected, they laughed at him. Even Soda was chuckling. Ponyboy’s fear had dwindled down, replaced by embarrassment. His ears turned bright red. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“You’re seriously having fun with this prank,” Steve snorted. That caught Ponyboy off guard.

“What?” Ponyboy asked, bewildered. What was he talking about?

“We don’t know how you did it, but the joke’s old.”

Now Ponyboy was really confused. He blinked heavily. “I’m sorry… What?”

“Back at that house when we played the Ouija board. I didn’t do that. Soda hadn’t either and neither did the girls. That leaves only you. So, how’d you manage that?”

Seriously? Did Steve really think that he set that whole session up? Ponyboy looked at Soda, but his brother was only nodding along with Steve. They both did? They seriously thought that he was messing with them? It didn’t even make sense! Ponyboy was the most scared person there and he didn’t know about the house until then. He didn’t even know how he would set that all up if it was a prank. The planchette moved on its own for Christ’s sake!

“I didn’t,” Ponyboy said, mouth dry.

“You know, kid, you got really good at acting. I’ll give you that much. But you need to stop watching all those movies,” Steve snarked. “One day, it’s going to bite you back. Ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?”

Ponyboy clenched his jaw. He had no energy to argue with him. All of it had been sapped away the moment he saw those ghosts. If they were going to continue teasing him, Ponyboy just had to figure this all out himself and find a way to get rid of the curse. He didn’t know where he could start, but he could at least find a way to prevent them from coming close to him.

“Forget it,” Ponyboy bit. There was no need to make it worse than it already was.

“Ponyboy…” Soda mumbled, reaching his hand out.

Ponyboy retreated from it, looking down at his feet awkwardly. “I’m just going to go to school.”

He slipped on his shoes and grabbed his backpack. The ghost was probably still out there, but all he had to do is look down and not acknowledge it… hopefully. He stopped right before he could open the door, feeling the shakiness of his knees. If only going out was that easy. He turned to Two-Bit and Steve even though he didn’t want to face them after being laughed at. It was better than being alone though. “You guys coming too?”

“Yeah, hold on a sec,” Two-Bit chirped, following after him.

Unfortunately for him, even as they were driving away, the levitating ghost followed after them, attracted by the rowdiness of the other greasers.

Somehow, it managed to follow them to the school, much to Ponyboy’s dismay. Not only that, but it followed Ponyboy to his class. It levitated at the back of the class, staring at the back wall. He tried to ignore it but that was hard whenever it wailed and all.

“Ponyboy?” his teacher, Mr. Flannigan, called. “Please answer the question on the board.”

Ponyboy, who was too distracted to listen to the lecture, looked at the board to see a difficult formula. He tried to solve it in his head, imagining the formula unfolding like it was on scrap paper. Answering questions in front of the class had always been difficult. Now, it was even more so with this curse of his.

“Well? What’s the answer?” the teacher said, getting impatient with how long it was taking Ponyboy.

“SEVEN.” the ghost whined.

“Sorry, it’s—” Ponyboy started but paused. Anxiety caused cold sweat to run down his spine.

“SEVEN.”

“What’s taking him so long to answer?” a classmate asked another.

“SEVEN.”

“I thought he was supposed to be smart,” another person mumbled. “This isn’t even that hard.”

He could figure this out. The answer was…

“SEVEN.”

“Seven,” Ponyboy quickly said without thinking then froze. Oh no. He closed his eyes tightly.

“HMM?” the ghost hummed. Ponyboy’s heart pounded as the ghost glided behind him, it bent its head over his shoulder to look at his face and the poor boy had to force his eyes open to not seem suspicious. His breath shuttered whenever it was released. He messed up already.

A trickle of sweat fell into Ponyboy’s eye and in a panic, he corrected himself, “Point…five…”

“That couldn’t have been more wrong,” the teacher sighed, waving his hand to dismiss him. Ponyboy chuckled to himself, forcing a smile on his face.

“It’s not?”

Mr. Flannigan shook his head but smiled back at him. “Pay attention next time. After class, come speak with me. There’s something I would like to ask you.”

Ponyboy slumped his shoulders, ignoring the chuckles from his classmates. The teacher called on another student for the next problem and, finally, the ghost moved on from him to them. Man, he was already exhausted, and he wasn’t even halfway through with the day.

At the end of the class, Ponyboy waited at his desk until the rest of the students left before he picked up his bag and walked up to the front of the room.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked, taking a short glimpse at the ghost that was still around him. The teacher smiled at him. Mr. Flannigan was a great teacher, so Ponyboy wasn’t that worried about getting in trouble. He had a gentle smile that was always on his face. A very handsome, young, new teacher that was easy to get along with. He was one of the first people that offered guidance after Dally and Johnny died. Ponyboy never took it, but it was still touching. Too bad he couldn’t see him though because the ghost decided to stand between them, blocking most of his vision.

“Yeah,” Mr. Flannigan said. “I noticed that you’ve been distracted lately. I was wondering if everything was alright at home.”

Ponyboy didn’t have to think twice about his answer. He pressed his lips together. He needed to end this conversation. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been thinking about stuff lately.”

“Well, if you need someone to talk to, remember that I’m there.”

Ponyboy grinned, although strained. “Right. Gotta go to my next class now. Bye, Mr. Flannigan!”

Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t the end of that ghost. It even followed him to the bus station after school. Two-Bit and Steve couldn’t give him a ride back, much to his dismay. Something came up with them. When Ponyboy pried, they didn’t give him a direct answer. Now he was stuck at the bus station, waiting with the ghost.

Why was it still following him? Did it know he could see it? That wasn’t right. It would have reacted differently if it did. But what else could it be? If Two-Bit were there and was able to see it as well, he probably would have cracked a joke about it having a crush on him.

Christ, just go away!

He was sweating something fierce as he waited for his bus to come. Time dragged on as he listened to the ghost wail and the religious folks that were holding up signs nearby.

“There are demons around us!” one of them preached in a megaphone. “They are everywhere, even right next to you. Do not give in to the temptation that may cause you to fall into their hands. Remember God is forgiving. He loves you all and wants to save you.”

Another yelled, “Protect yourself from these demons or else you will be damned in hell! Do whatever you can. Draw a line of salt around you!”

Salt? Will something like that really help against them? It seemed ridiculous. He almost snorted. That couldn’t be right at all. How could something as weak as salt defend him from these ghosts? It wasn’t like he was dealing with some ants. Monsters and ants are on a completely different scale.

But, then again, it didn’t hurt to try. It might even be beneficial. It was accessible too. Ponyboy could easily grab a container of salt from the kitchen. Maybe it was fate.

Finally, the bus screeched to a stop in front of him. Ponyboy instantly jumped to his feet and slipped inside when the door opened. He had hoped that the ghost would leave him alone once the bus left. He sat down and took the risk of looking around. From his perspective, the ghost seemed to have vanished. He sighed in relief.

The bus wasn’t too crowded that day. There were only a couple of people on it. Nobody really spoke besides a few quiet murmurs that were passed here and there. He pressed his temple against the rickety bus window and felt his teeth chatter with each bump in the road.

“I can’t believe it,” someone said before they laughed loudly. Ponyboy tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation, but it was impossible to do when that was all there was to listen to. “Seriously?”

Ponyboy looked over to glance at who was speaking so loudly. He quickly went from face to face, most of the people there were zoning out.

“It’s true,” the voice came again.

Who was talking?

“What do you know?”

He looked at everyone again but found that none of them there were actively speaking. Did he hear wrong? It sounded so clear before.

He turned back around and saw another passenger on the bus that he hadn’t noticed until then. It was a woman with dark brown hair that fell down her back, and, in a way, it kind of reminded Pony of something, but he wasn’t sure. She was looking away from him.

“Seriously?” she said. The voice was definitely coming from her. But… when did she get there? Had she always been sitting there? And why was she talking to herself?

Ponyboy looked at the other passengers to see if any of them were bothered by her, but nobody paid her any attention. Maybe he should too. He knew he wouldn’t like to be stared at like this. He turned back to the passenger and saw that she changed seats. She was now a few seats closer to him. She turned her head to look back at him and Ponyboy swiftly looked out the window.

“I can’t believe it,” she said.

Ponyboy took another risk of looking. This time, she was seated in the spot right in front of him. He flinched, grabbing his knees tightly.

No way…

This couldn’t have been a living person. Not with how fast and silent it moved.

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW?” it whined, bringing up its gangly hands to the hair on the back of its head. Ah, Ponyboy thought. This was the ghost that had been following him since this morning. Its fingers parted its hair, revealing a face that was looking straight at him. It hadn’t been turned around. The entire time, it had been looking straight at him.

Ponyboy’s blood went cold. His finger twitched as it moved towards the string that ran across the top of his window. He pulled it down, letting the bus driver know that someone wanted to get off. He forced his eyes away, hoping that it wasn’t too late to play everything off.

“DO YOU SEE ME?” it asked, leaning closer to him until its face was mere inches from his own. Instead of speaking, this time, Ponyboy stared straight ahead, not even blinking. Just stay calm. His hands were shaking the entire drive to the next stop. Ponyboy was so scared that he almost missed it. The bus slowed to a stop, swaying everyone’s bodies forward as it did so.

“Is anyone getting off here?” the bus driver asked when nobody left.

Ponyboy snapped his attention to him and quickly scrambled to gather his stuff. He managed to slide out the doors the moment they started to close. As soon as his feet touched the pavement, he turned his head and watched the ghost be driven off by the bus.

Was it finally over? Or more accurate of a question: was that ghost going to leave him alone now?

He felt like he could finally breathe. His head was spinning from holding his breath for so long, but he looked around, not knowing where he was exactly. At the expense of getting rid of that ghost, he had to become lost, it seemed. He sighed. He needed to get home so he could see if the salt method would work or not.

He couldn’t keep doing this. He felt like he was going to break, and it was only his first day! He couldn’t get those ghosts out of his mind, seeing them even when his eyes were closed. They were everywhere, never letting him take a rest. He was exhausted by the time he got back home. His adrenaline had been on full blast nonstop and all he wanted to do was crash on his bed.

As soon as he stepped in, he was hit with the smell of Darry’s cooking. Usually, Ponyboy would have been starving at that point, but he didn’t think he could make himself eat. The gang watched him mindlessly walk into the kitchen after he briefly greeted them.

“How was school?” Darry asked him.

“Exhausting,” Ponyboy sighed, rubbing his eyes. He opened the cabinet and grabbed salt, much to everyone’s confusion. “I think I’m going to go to bed. I’m not very hungry.”

Darry pointed at the canister in his hand. “With salt?”

“I need it.”

“Kid, I don’t think you need salt to sleep,” Steve said. Ponyboy felt a headache coming on. Well, he needed salt to be able to get sleep. He didn’t think he would be able to do it if ghosts stood over his bed. That is, of course, if the salt helped. He could have defended his case more, but, honestly, Ponyboy was too exhausted to even deal with Steve.

“It’s to keep the ghosts away,” Ponyboy said before he walked away.

“Ghosts?” Darry asked, but since his brother had already left, the question was mostly directed to the other gang members. They all curiously walked over to Pony’s door while Soda tried to fill him in. They could have been expecting to see many things revolving around salt. They didn’t, however, expect to see Ponyboy dead asleep with a ring of salt around the bed. Darry, confused just as much as the others, couldn’t even bring himself to be angry at this brother for using all the salt and for making a mess. He could just imagine how hard it was going to be to get every grain out of the carpet.

“Soda, I think your kid brother is broken,” Steve commented, partially as a joke. He chuckled although that fell short with his frown.

“Let’s just… leave him for now and ask in the morning,” Soda suggested, lost for words. What was going on with him all of a sudden? He closed the door. “He looked really tired.”

Reluctantly, the gang agreed.

It was maybe a few hours after when Ponyboy was woken up. The gang was still in the living room, boisterous laughter heard even though the door was closed. The room was dark, letting only a bit of light in through the blinds. Ponyboy was woken by a whisper in his ear.

He shifted to his side, hoping to fall back asleep, but when he did, he saw a ghost peering over the side of the bed at him. He woke up faster than a speeding bullet, senses blaring once again. He froze and looked down at the floor, pretending to zone out. His eyes shifted to the salt circle and, even though it was dark, he saw a line had been cut through. Ponyboy chewed on the inside of his mouth.

It didn’t work.

Chapter 3: To Fool These Eyes

Chapter Text

The encounters kept happening and Ponyboy never quite got used to them. He was getting tired from everything, and the gang could see that. They were worried, judging by the looks they gave him. It only made it worse for them because none of them knew what was going on. Even though Ponyboy had told them time and time again, none of them believed him.

Since the first encounter, Ponyboy had tried multiple ways to keep the ghosts away. He figured that if he couldn’t stop himself from seeing them, he could at least keep them as far away from him as possible. He already tried salt, but ghosts could easily walk over it. He had tried “flicking” holy water, but the droplets only went through them. He had tried burning sage, which only made the gang complain about the smell. He tried reciting prayers but that only made the ghosts antsier. He was running out of ideas, and it was possibly even more difficult with him having to act like he couldn’t see them at all. There wasn’t really anything discrete about warding off ghosts.

At that point, it looked like he was just going to deal with it. The problem was, he didn’t think he could ever get used to it.

Ponyboy, who was currently sitting in class and drilling holes into his eraser with his pencil, listened to the murmurs of the class, using the students’ voices as a way to help distract himself from everything else that was going on. The clicking of the chalk against the board was like a metronome, helping fill the room with ambient noise that encouraged him to finally let himself get lulled to sleep.

“Did you hear that…” someone whispered to their friend, giggling. Whispers were all around him, giving Ponyboy something new to listen to with each shift of focus. It was quite entertaining in a way, and it made him feel knowledgeable about all the happenings within the school.

“I know! It was almost like…” another student gossiped.

“Pony?” someone said, waving their hand in front of his face. When the boy didn’t respond they snapped their fingers under his nose. “Hey, earth to Ponyboy!”

“Hmm?” Ponyboy hummed, glancing over at the source of the voice, almost as if he were in a trance.

There was a light chuckle. “What’re you doing in here?”

Ponyboy blinked once and then twice at the blurry figure next to him. Slowly, their features started to sharpen until he saw Two-Bit standing there with a raised eyebrow and a grin on his lips. When’d he get here? Two-Bit was never the one to be quiet when infiltrating a class. He was so out of it that he didn’t comprehend what he said.

“Two-Bit, what are you doing here? I’m in class,” Ponyboy whispered which only made Two-Bit’s eyebrow raise even more. The smile fell from his lips. It was like he said something weird, but Ponyboy couldn’t figure out why that was so.

But that was when Two-Bit said something that Ponyboy would rather not be told, “What are you talking about? There’s no one in here.”

As soon as those words were uttered, everything froze. Ponyboy’s body became stiff as he watched, from the corners of his eyes, every student turn towards him. He could just make out their features—all large and sunken eyes with crooked mouths. He had been sitting in a classroom of ghosts and he didn’t even notice. Even though he said that he would never get used to this, Ponyboy was starting to fear that he would. It was getting harder to differentiate the living from the dead and that terrified him.

He was caught. And then Two-Bit was there, not having the ability to see them like himself, so he was safe. Probably… Hopefully… Actually, who knew what harm these ghosts could do? At least Ponyboy had some sort of way to dodge them if needed. How was Two-Bit going to defend himself?

They walked closer to them, step by step so agonizingly slow. Goosebumps rose on Ponyboy’s body like hives. He held his fingers still as he tried his best to keep his face straight.

“Oh, I must have zoned out when the bell rang,” Ponyboy shakily chuckled, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes watered. They were trapped.

“CAN YOU SEE US?” the ghosts all asked in unison.

“It’s almost the end of lunch. You probably have your heads in the loud longer than most pilots,” Two-Bit joked, although it ran stale in the tense atmosphere. Even the older greaser could feel that. Soon enough, one of them got to Two-Bit, reaching its hand out towards him. Ponyboy had a quick second to come up with something and react.

He pointed to the ground. “On the floor!”

Immediately, Two-Bit looked down and took a slow step away from where the ghost was. He looked around before looking back up to Ponyboy with a quizzical expression. “What was there?”

“Oh… uh… I thought I saw a rat. False alarm.”

“NO RAT. NO RAT,” the ghosts chanted when they looked around and launched themselves forward. Without much of a second thought, Pony grabbed Two-Bit’s bicep and tugged hard enough for his friend to lose his balance for a bit. Just in time too. A ghost that was nearby swiped thin air, barely missing him.

“Hey, that reminds me. I need help with something. I need to do it before our lunch ends,” Ponyboy said. Two-Bit gave him another funny look at that. He was probably thinking that he didn’t need to be dragged for him to say that. Please, don’t question it, Ponyboy begged internally. Finally, Two-Bit nodded his head and let himself get dragged off. They moved in a curve instead of a straight line, which could have easily been seen as odd.

They were getting close to the door when something clattered on the tiled floor. Ponyboy’s head twitched as it looked back to see what it was. Somehow (as unlucky as it was) Two-Bit’s switchblade slipped out of his pocket. No… A ghost managed to slip it out of his pocket to keep them in there longer.

“Oh, hold on,” Two-Bit muttered and turned around to pick it up. The ghost stood over it, swallowing up the blade in its misty mass. If Two-Bit kept going, he was going to go into it.

Ponyboy’s heart was beating in his throat as he pulled Two-Bit back by the shoulder and reached down himself. As soon as he did, his face was swallowed by the figure and his vision was consumed by darkness. He involuntarily whimpered, wanting nothing more than to run out the room with his tail between his legs. While in the mass of mist, his head felt icy cold as if it had been dunked in cold water. He didn’t breathe while he was in that position, risking suffocation over breathing in the ghost. Stars started to spot his vision as he reached forward, patting around the floor since he couldn’t see a thing. Luckily, he found the switchblade quickly and pulled away. His vision came back, and he pressed the blade against Two-Bit’s chest before dragging his friend the rest of the way out of the classroom.

“Well, thank you,” Two-Bit said as he did so, fluttering his eyelids.

It was only when the door to the room closed behind them did Ponyboy feel relatively safer. He let out a sigh of relief, placing his hands on his knees. Christ, he couldn’t believe he did that. There were still pins and needles on the spots that touched the ghosts.

“Well, where’s the classroom?” Two-Bit asked after a while of watching Ponyboy calm himself down.

“Hm?” Ponyboy hummed, pulling up an unconvincing smile.

“The one you needed help in.”

Oh, right… That was a lie to get Two-Bit out of the room. Now that they were out and safe, there was no need to keep it up. As if the world was giving him a pity card, the bell rang, and Ponyboy took that as an opportunity to go. “Maybe later, Two-Bit. I guess it’s too late now.”

Two-Bit rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back on his heels. He probably was thinking about how weird Ponyboy was being lately. Nothing new. The older greaser opened his mouth.

“You—” Two-Bit started but Ponyboy had his feet pointed away already.

“I really should get going,” Ponyboy said with a short wave. “See you later.”

With that, he was gone and Two-Bit couldn’t help himself but think, once again, how weird he was.

Ponyboy somehow managed to get through the entire day. When he got back home, the TV was blasting with the newest news stories. Usually, a cartoon would be playing, but that day was different.

“Can’t believe another kid went missing,” Darry muttered as he watched the reporter talk about the most recent issue that was going on.

“What happened?” Ponyboy asked, setting his stuff down by the door.

Darry hardly looked at him when he answered. “Another kidnapping.”

For a few months, kids around his age had been disappearing. There was a high possibility that the kids were dead, but they couldn’t say for sure because no bodies had been recovered yet. Besides the commonality of the victims' age and how a lot of them went to his school, nothing else was found. The killer came and went—mysterious and eerie like a ghost.

“Who went missing?” Ponyboy continued to question, looking over at the TV. “Do I know them?”

“You just might,” Darry replied. “Do you know a Ronald Miller?”

“I think there’s a Ronald Miller in one of my classes.” He wasn’t completely sure. The name sounded relatively familiar, but it wasn’t like he could remember every name of his classmates. Maybe if there was a face to match it with. But the fact that the person who went missing was someone in his class felt unreal.

“It’s starting to get dangerous to go outside these days,” Soda commented with furrowed brows.

“Sure,” Steve commented. “It wasn’t like we didn’t have to worry about dumb socs jumping us or anything.”

“But socs are just socs. They haven’t even found the kidnapper yet,” Two-Bit added.

Darry turned his head to look at Ponyboy sternly. “Pony, take this in mind when you’re out. This guy is still out there, taking people your age. You need to be careful out there and use your head.”

Ponyboy could have rolled his eyes. Kidnappers were the least of his problems at the moment. They weren’t even as scary as the ghosts he’d been seeing. He sighed, “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m being serious. You need to think, you dig?”

After he nodded, the news story ended and Darry got back up to continue working on dinner. Ponyboy followed him, curious about what was being made. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the lack of meals he had been eating lately.

“What are we eating?” Ponyboy asked.

“Why don’t you lift that lid and find out yourself?” Darry responded.

It looked like he was making soup. Ponyboy took a deep breath to take the scent all in. Instantly, he was hit with nostalgia. The soup smelt just like his mom’s cream stew—all full of vegetables and a cheesy broth. He lifted up the lid and excitedly looked in and his smile instantly fell. Mixed with the white broth was a ghost. Its face was staring back at Ponyboy, limbs tangled together like a complicated pretzel. Pony’s lips pressed together. Honestly, he should have expected as much.

“IT’S DELICIOUS,” the ghost whined. “DO YOU WANT A TASTE?”

Ponyboy placed the lid down quietly and turned away. His face sheened with sweat.

“What’s wrong?” Darry curiously asked, chopping potatoes. “Not excited for the food?”

He would have loved to eat the soup, but he was not excited about consuming a naked ghost’s bath water. Ponyboy didn’t have the heart to tell Darry that. Although his hunger was still there, his craving went down the drain. He hugged his stomach and muttered, “I’m not that hungry…”

The chopping stopped and his brothers’ attentions were completely on him. Soda stepped up first, placing a hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling alright? That’s mom’s recipe.”

“I know… I’m just not feeling it, is all.”

“But you haven’t eaten breakfast.”

“Or lunch,” Two-Bit added, putting in more fuel to the fire.

“Or lunch?” Now Soda was really worried. “Are you getting sick? You don’t look well.”

“When’d you get sick?” Darry questioned.

“I’m not sick,” Ponyboy stubbornly defended, pulling Soda’s hand away from him.

“But you haven’t been eating much these days. Starving yourself will end up with you getting even more sick. Now, sit down so I can get you a bowl.”

Ponyboy snapped his head towards Darry. “But I’m not hungry!”

Darry’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care. You’re eating.”

Before he knew it, a bowl was being poured for him and he was being forced down in a chair. Darry scooped up part of the soup and brought the ladle up. Part of the ghost’s misty figure was swimming around, falling down each pour like a waterslide.

“WEE,” the ghost murmured. Ponyboy nervously chuckled, mouth twitching.

“What are you looking at?” Two-Bit asked, plopping down next to him.

“Something you wouldn’t believe,” Ponyboy answered and watched as his bowl was placed in front of him. Just like the other bowls, part of the ghost was in it. The mouth laughed as it swirled about, flashing its rotten teeth. Pony’s stomach flipped just looking at it.

“You’ve sure been weird lately,” Steve said. “And that’s saying a lot.”

“Maybe it’ll do all of us some good to go out and do something,” Soda suggested. “It’s been a while. Pony, it can be your choice. I heard they are replaying that movie you like. What was it called?”

So, he didn’t really have a choice. He would have picked the movies anyway, so it was fine. “I like a lot of movies.”

“Yeah, but the one you talked about a lot.”

He talked about a lot of movies also. He chuckled again, but it stopped short when he saw Darry lift a spoon of the ghost.

“IT’S DELICIOUS,” the ghost said.

Ponyboy placed his hands on the table and shot back to his feet, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. The gang all put their spoons down. Ponyboy quickly suggested, “We should get going now!”

“But it isn’t until later tonight,” Darry challenged.

“But I want to get a good spot and get snacks! The snack line gets long.”

“But not a couple of hours,” Steve muttered, resting his cheek in his palm.

“You should still eat food before going,” Darry said, grabbing the spoon again. Ponyboy quickly swooped in and grabbed the bowl, ignoring all the sounds of protests. He started to pour the bowls back into the pot.

“We can always warm the soup up later. We have to save room for the snacks.”

“But, Ponyboy,” Soda started but stopped short when he saw how stiff Ponyboy’s face was. It was like his face had been covered with plaster.

“Can we get going, please?” Ponyboy begged, trying to ignore the voices that came from the pot.

The gang all gave each other looks, because, seriously, what was going on with him lately? Eventually, Soda nodded his head.

Steve sighed, “See? Weird.”

That night, the drive-in was crowded. Since the gang didn’t want to be stuck, smooshed in a vehicle together, they decided to find a seat in the back to watch. It didn’t take long for Steve and Ponyboy to start bickering with each other and for Darry to send them off together to get snacks as a way to make them get along more. If anything, it only made them bicker more because now they had more freedom to do so and more of a reason to do so as well.

Besides that, the line at the food stand had always been long. It got to the point where it almost wasn’t worth it. That day was no different. It might have even been longer than usual. Steve let out an exasperated sigh when he saw the length of it, knowing full well that he was about to spend more time babysitting the kid. He stood in line with his hands on his hips, now purposefully trying to ignore him as if that would make time go faster.

Ponyboy, on the other hand, was totally fine with that. He looked over at the tall drive-in screen, watching as the movie started up. He walked alongside Steve, not completely paying attention to where he was going. He stopped when he saw the back of another person.

Maybe this was for the best. Hopefully, this would be able to distract him from all the ghosts that had been terrorizing him for lack of a better term.

From where he stood, he could just barely make out the rest of the gang. Only their faces lit up from the projection sometimes. He could see them joke around, shoving each other and annoying all the people that sat next to them. It had been a while since multiple of them came to the drive-in. The last time was with Johnny and Dally and, well… that ended up leading to their deaths. So, the place that once had great memories was muddied by the memories of the fading light in their eyes. And the last time he did anything fun (to his standards) with the gang seemed like ages ago. He needed this. This was going to be great. With the gang, he felt like he could leave his troubles behind (if you take ghosts out of consideration).

The smell of popcorn filled his nose and caused his stomach to growl. Distantly, he could hear the kernels pop and bounce around in the machine. He played around with the change that he was given by Darry and Soda, flipping and weaving them through the spaces between his fingers. He took a step forward as the line moved up.

“What are you doing over there?” Steve suddenly asked him and Ponyboy looked away from the screen to see the other greaser standing in the snack line a meter or two away from him.

When did he… The gears in Ponyboy’s brain started back up.

If he was standing in the snack line, then who was Ponyboy standing behind? He looked forward and saw the ratty clothes of the figure. Their body was dripping wet, creating a pool around where they stood. Their skin was blue and translucent-like. It was a ghost. What was a ghost doing there? Their head twitched as it turned around towards him, moving a full 180 degrees.

Ponyboy looked past the ghost and saw a line of them, leading to the bathroom. He looked back as well to see multiple had continued the line behind him. His breath got caught in his throat.

“I-I-“ Ponyboy stuttered, mouth dry. He did it again. He couldn’t believe he made the same mistake twice on the same day. He could have sworn that these were actual people, but, then again, ghosts had been looking awfully real to him lately. They all turned their heads to look at him, speaking all at once with familiar sentences that felt like they were whispering next to his brain. No. No. No. There wasn’t a way out of this one was there? His knees were quaking, threatening to collapse. The coins clattered against the ground when he went to bunch the bottom of his shirt up. “I-I-I got distracted.”

“I can see that. Are you going to come over here anytime soon? Pick up the money. I did not come all this way to come back without anything.”

“Yeah…” Ponyboy muttered, bending over to pick up the coins that were by the ghosts’ feet. His fingers were shaking as he did so, struggling to pick them up. Every single time he tried, he ended up dropping them again, digging himself further into a hole.

“Oh, jeez, kid,” Steve sighed, leaving the line to help.

“I THINK HE SEES US,” a ghost said.

“HE SEES US!” the rest chanted. “HE SEES US!”

He shut his eyes, too paralyzed to do anything else. Steve bent down and picked up the coins, grabbing Pony’s arm roughly. He tugged him over back to the snack line, muttering about losing their spot. For once, the younger greaser was thanking Steve for saving him. When they were back at the end of the line, Ponyboy finally opened his eyes, looking at the line of ghosts that were still watching him. He diverted his eyes quickly so he wouldn’t be staring at any one spirit for too long, going up the line to see what they were waiting for.

The line led to the bathroom, which was clear to see, but why? Ghosts didn’t have to use a bathroom. At least, that was what he thought. At that moment, there wasn’t anyone living that was using it. Maybe people could feel that something was off about it and stayed clear away. From where he stood, he could see one ghost was facing the line and not in unison with the others. This ghost was tall, and its mouth was split open as if had been blown wide by a shotgun at point-blank range. Its jaw hung off as far as its belly, threatening to drop off. Its eyes were blank and milked over as if Ponyboy was staring at an actual corpse. As the ghosts moved forward, a tongue shot out of its mouth and pierced the ghosts like a javelin, devouring them whole.

Ponyboy’s mind whirled when he saw that. What was it doing to the other ghosts? More importantly, what would happen if Steve hadn’t caught him? His breath shuttered as he ducked to the other side of Steve so he wouldn’t have to look at it any longer.

And just like that, he didn’t feel like eating once again.

“What’s wrong with you all of a sudden?” Steve sighed, scratching the back of his head as if he didn’t know what to do with him. “Do you have to go to the bathroom? You’re jumping everywhere.”

“No!” Ponyboy quickly interjected, earning him a weird look from the people around him. Ponyboy’s ears turned red as he said in a quieter tone. “No. I don’t. Forget it…”

Eventually, they got to the front of the line and ordered some snacks before they gathered everything and started to head back. It was mostly cartons of popcorn and Ponyboy found himself walking with his vision partially covered. He peeked over the mountain and saw a soc walking towards him. Well, it was more like he was trying to walk past him and didn’t feel the need to get out of the way for him. The soc didn’t even look at him but straight forward.

When they got close enough, Ponyboy stepped around him with a quiet sorry. He felt the guy turn his head towards him as he passed by, the faint smell of sandalwood passing his nose and overpowering the popcorn for a fleeting moment.

He still felt the guy’s stare as he walked past, looking over his shoulder. His eyes briefly caught a flash of ivory skin and ash-colored hair.

“Come on, hurry up,” Steve nagged when he noticed that Ponyboy slowed down and was getting too behind. The last thing he wanted was to go back without the kid and face the wrath of Darry and Soda.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ponyboy sighed, ripping his head away and scurrying towards his seat. The guy he saw instantly left his mind. The movie had started already, and the gang was bored and doing their own thing and bothering other people. Truthfully, there wasn’t a need for this many snacks. Still, Ponyboy couldn’t help but think that this outing was good for them. Even if Ponyboy couldn’t watch the movie with the giant wailing ghost that was covering a good chunk of the screen. At least the gang was there and acting as lively as ever. Watching that was worth everything.

Chapter 4: This Ghost Was... Different

Chapter Text

The movie ended with a cloudy night sky and the fresh smell of incoming rain. A few droplets fell by the time the gang got to their feet so they could go find their vehicle. In contrast with Ponyboy, they were relieved to get out of there. They were never the type of people who liked to sit still for a long period of time and just stare at a screen. Throughout the movie, they mostly just left Ponyboy there to watch it by himself (out of everyone, Darry was the only one who sat by him the entire way through) and messed around with other people. Even as they were leaving, they were still messing around. The amount of energy they had was astounding sometimes. Ponyboy sighed with a small smile on his face.

As they walked, they were pushing each other around, cackling loudly at the inside jokes they had. They didn’t notice the soc that was standing at the entrance in their path. People walked by the soc as if he wasn’t there at all. But that was pretty normal in this situation. But usually, the gang would have paid more attention to it.

The gang was about to bump right into him, which probably would have started a fight, and, honestly, Ponyboy didn’t want to deal with that. He was sick of the conflict between greasers and socs. He opened his mouth to say something, but the soc turned his head and stared straight at him. Familiarity passed by his eyes as an excited grin spread across his face. He bounded over and Ponyboy was sure that the gang would try to stop him before he could reach him, but, instead, they walked right past him. The gang didn’t even notice the soc.

Huh?

“It’s you!” the soc chirped in a suspiciously friendly way. Ponyboy, who staggered back a step, shifted his eyes to the gang who kept on walking.

Why?

“So, you can see me!” the soc continued, even more excitedly.

Oh… He was a ghost…

But he didn’t look like the average ghost. Far from it, in fact. This soc looked just like any other guy with his ash-colored hair and his azure eyes. His ivory skin had a healthy glow to it, almost mystical but still looked normal. He was a taller, sharp-jawed man that wore expensive brands that practically served as a sign that stated his social status. He probably could have even been a “good kid” if his outfit items weren’t half-heartedly put together. Most of all, the soc didn’t look like one of those decayed corpse-looking ghosts. He looked human and not monstrous.

Ponyboy was frozen now—stiff as a board and frozen like a statue. Ghost. It was cold outside and yet he started to sweat. He prayed that it wasn’t too late to pull up another act. He could figure out why this ghost looked different later.

“Gotta watch my step. I nearly fell,” Ponyboy muttered to himself. He tried to step around the ghost but the soc glided in front of him as soundlessly as a creeping cat. Again, Ponyboy froze.

“I know you can see me. I saw you before,” the soc brought up. “I hoped that I would run into you sooner or later.”

Before? What was this ghost talking about? He didn’t meet him before. He was probably trying to trick him. But the ghost leaned forward a bit; close enough for Pony to smell the sandalwood cologne. Somehow, it seemed familiar, but Ponyboy couldn’t place it.

“Ponyboy?” Soda called out, looking back. The gang all stopped as well. “Why’d you stop?”

“Ponyboy? That’s your name?” the ghost asked, almost teasingly. “Interesting name. Almost seems made-up. My name’s Castor.”

“I thought I might have forgotten something,” Ponyboy said, pushing forward while not looking at the ghost. “It’s fine though.”

“What did you think you lost?” Soda continued.

“My book.”

“Oh, man, you’re ignoring me?” Castor questioned, waving a hand in front of his face. Ponyboy held in a flinch. “Hello? Can’t you see me?”

“Why’d you bring a book to the movies? You knew you wouldn’t be able to read it here,” Darry sighed, shaking his head.

“I didn’t. I thought I did but I remembered that I left it at home,” Ponyboy shrugged. He rejoined the gang, and they restarted their walk back out. The ghost kept following him and all Ponyboy wanted was for him to leave him alone.

“Stop ignoring me. I need your help,” Castor whined, but Ponyboy continued on, trying his best to not look over. When the soc figured out that Ponyboy wasn’t even going to spare a look in his direction, the smile that was on his face turned into a scowl. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Shouldn’t have trusted a dumb greaser like you. You probably think that you’re finally better than me since you’re alive and all.”

And there was that common soc entitlement. To think that Ponyboy was starting to think that this ghost was friendly. It definitely was a trick to get him to notice him. Just like every other ghost that he had encountered. This one was just more coherent and that made him even more dangerous.

When they started to drive away, Ponyboy took a quick glance back to see if the ghost finally left. But who would have guessed that he would follow him to his house? The ghost looked bored as it strolled in right behind him. Since then, it was nothing but trouble for Pony.

“Stop ignoring me, dumb grease,” the soc whined the moment he stepped in. “Grease. Grease. Grease. Grease. Grease. Greaser. Greaser. Hey, Ponyboy!”

This was for certain: the soc was incredibly annoying.

Ponyboy was already getting a headache. He rubbed his temples.

“Are you getting a headache?” Darry asked. Pony shook his head.

“Nothing too bad,” Ponyboy answered.

“If you’re trying to pretend, I’m not here, you’re really bad at it,” the soc grunted. “See?”

He reached toward Ponyboy with his arms. In response, Ponyboy instantly hit his heel with his other foot and fell flat on the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of him and caused his ribs to creak, but at least he temporarily avoided the ghost. His ears were red when he heard the gang laugh at his random tumble. The thing that got hurt the most with that maneuver was his pride.

“Did you forget how to use your legs?” Steve cackled. Ponyboy was too embarrassed to come up with a witty comeback. He looked up once he started to push himself back onto his feet and saw that Castor had already moved onto Two-Bit. Like before, his hand reached out and Ponyboy stumbled to his feet with boggled eyes. And, once again, Ponyboy purposefully caused himself to trip over his own two feet. This time, he took a few steps forward with his arms outreached. When his palms landed on Two-Bit’s chest, he pushed him out of harm’s way.

Two-Bit’s eyes widened in surprise as he quickly regained his balance, but Ponyboy still ended up on the ground again. It was so ridiculous that Two-Bit instantly forgot that he was pushed. Again, they all laughed at him.

“Are you okay?” Soda asked, words almost hidden by his giggling. Ponyboy gave him a thumbs up, slowly getting back onto his feet after just lying there for a long moment.

“Why do you keep avoiding me?” the soc groaned, loudly sighing. He lightly sat down on the coffee table and rested his jaw in his palm. His fingers drummed against his cheekbone. “I just want to talk to you about something. You obviously can see me. If you want me to force you to look at me, then I will.”

What the heck did that mean? He hoped that it wasn’t anything bad, but, with his luck, he knew that knocking on wood wouldn’t help him.

Darry left to reheat the soup that was still sitting on the stove. He opened the lid and Ponyboy peeked over his arm to double-check that there wasn’t a surprise inside. Luckily, the ghost was gone. He sighed in relief. He still wasn’t going to eat it though. It was practically ghost bathwater now. He almost stuck out his tongue at the thought.

The gas stove lit up and Ponyboy felt the heat from the flames against his hands. He moved away to give Darry more space to work. But as he did so, he looked at the ghost again to find that he wasn’t at the table anymore. In a panic, Pony looked around the kitchen because there was no telling what he was going to do to the gang. It was easy to spot him, being a ghost soc and a stranger. He found him right in front of the knife block. His hand ghosted over it as if tentative to even try to pick a knife up. The movement sent a wave of adrenaline through Ponyboy. His skin prickled.

Could ghosts move objects? He hadn’t seen a ghost do that yet, but it wasn’t out of the picture. But if that was so then they were in a whole bunch of trouble. The gang couldn’t defend themselves against a ghost. Not even Ponyboy, who could see them, could. Ghosts were untouchable… literally!

His overactive imagination was running wild, flashing him images of his friends and family being murdered. His breath lodged itself in his throat and he subconsciously reached out and grabbed Darry’s forearm in a tight grip. Ponyboy could feel his brother’s questioning stare against his skin, but Ponyboy couldn’t give him an explanation for his actions. He was prepared to move his brother out of the way when Castor withdrew his hand with a roll of his eyes.

“Like I would be able to pick up this knife,” he said sarcastically with a bitter undertone that Pony didn’t quite get. Christ, he was going to grow a full head of gray hairs from how much stress this ghost was giving him. He walked back over to Ponyboy, almost defeatedly when he saw that he was still being ignored. For good measure, he waved his hand in front of Pony’s face again. “Maybe everything has been a coincidence after all…”

Yes! Believe that!

A helpless laugh left Castor’s mouth. His lips were slightly curled in. “This is dumb. I really shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

And, just like that, Ponyboy started to feel bad. He sounded so pitiful. It was hard not to feel anything after hearing the lump in his throat.

Swallowing thickly, Castor sat back down at the table and covered his face with his hands. All of a sudden, the room started to shake as if there was a mild earthquake, but the room didn’t move in waves like it was supposed to. Instead, it was like someone was following one of those shake-before-use instructions. Except, instead of a product, it was the kitchen, and this was far less intense. The lights flickered and cabinets flew open, but nothing besides that. The worst thing that happened, really, was the soup that splashed out of the pot. Castor was flickering as well, skin switching from an ivory color to gray. In those quick moments, Pony saw a ghost that looked like the rest of them.

They weren’t in an earthquake, Ponyboy realized then. Castor was doing this all by himself. Most likely, due to him being in this emotional state. But whatever emotional state he was in, it was quickly over. Castor’s head snapped up soon after the shaking had started. A panicked look crossed his face when he realized what was happening. He quickly shut his eyes, rubbing at his temples and muttering to himself sweet nothings until, finally, the shaking stopped just as suddenly as it began.

“Was that an earthquake?” Two-Bit asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, that only happened in the kitchen. The rest of the house didn’t shake,” Steve informed everyone, causing confusion. Darry noticed that Ponyboy was still grabbing onto his arm. He removed the grip.

“Did you do something?” Darry accused. He remembered how his younger brother started to act strangely before the shaking started. It was like he knew that something was about to happen.

“What?” Ponyboy asked, blinking innocently. He didn’t get what Darry was asking.

“How did you manage to make the kitchen shake like this? And don’t give us the same dumb excuse you always give us,” Darry groaned. He patted a nearby napkin down on the spillage to soak it up before it could spread and make even more of a mess. “If you’re going to make an excuse, don’t tell us that it’s because you can see ghosts.”

Ponyboy went rigid.

“I knew it,” the ghost said too close to his ear. Ponyboy felt a chill run down his spine. He could hear the grin in Castor’s voice as he continued to speak. “You thought you could get away with it, but you can’t. He just sold you out.”

Why now? Why did Darry have to bring that up now of all times when there was a ghost right next to them? It was fine when there wasn’t one nearby, but this ghost has been on his case for about an hour now.

“It was an earthquake,” Ponyboy declared. “It wasn’t me, Darry.”

“You f*cking liar,” the soc whispered.

“Earthquakes don’t do that. They don’t just hit one room,” Darry argued, crossing his arms.

“But blaming him for this is too far,” Soda jumped in, quick to become the mediator. “What if it really was an earthquake?”

Darry gave him a look.

Soda continued slowly. “Or a piping problem?”

“It was probably the pipes,” Ponyboy quickly agreed. Whatever explanation worked, he had to take it. “This house isn’t the newest on the block.”

“Or someone backed them up,” Two-Bit joined in, pointing a finger at Steve. “I’m looking at you, Steve.”

“You probably tried to hide something and it’s now clogging everything,” Steve playfully shot back.

“Why would you hide this ability?” Castor asked, distracting Ponyboy from the jokes and giggles that started. When he received no response, he frowned. “You seriously still trying to pretend that I’m not here? After everything?”

When would this ghost get the hint? He looked back at the gang. So far, all of the attention was on Steve and Two-Bit. Ponyboy decided to take the opportunity to get out of there before he could get reprimanded by Darry again. “I think I’m going to go to my room.”

Nobody heard him, or, at least, paid enough attention to him to respond. The jokes went on and the shaking of the house was temporarily held off, giving Ponyboy enough time to go to his room. The ghost, followed him like a lost puppy, this time muttering childishly under his breath, “You know, if you really don’t want to talk to me, you could tell me.”

That sad voice was back, but Ponyboy refused to break. Although cruel, it was best this way. Even if this ghost really needed his help, putting socs aside, Pony shouldn’t get involved in these types of affairs. Castor was dangerous. The shaking of the kitchen proved that so.

It wouldn’t be too long for him to just leave. Then he could put everything behind him.

Ponyboy closed the door to his room. He moved to his desk, totally exhausted from everything that happened today. Maybe he could get some writing done before bed to decompress. He lazily dragged his seat out before his eyes traveled to under it and found the soup ghost had moved there. It stared at him with large, empty eyes and breathed out black smoke.

Why couldn’t this day end normally? He was getting sick of acting today. Instantly, all his energy had been zapped out.

“COME SIT,” the ghost chattered. “I DON’T BITE.”

“Don’t feel like writing—” Ponyboy started, when he was cut off by Castor.

“Oh, it’s just one of these guys,” Castor said monotonously. The ghost had moved right next to him, crouched down so that he was at eye level with the other one. Ponyboy stayed rigidly still, trying his best not to stare directly at them. Castor waved his hand as if he were trying to shoo the other ghost away. “Go on. Shoo. You’re not wanted here.”

There was no way that was going to work.

“IT’S FUN HERE,” the ghost argued. “SO… SO… FUN…”

Castor clicked his tongue, being more forceful this time. “Go on. Get!”

The ghost under his desk looked startled. It closed its mouth and just sat there for a moment. Then, miraculously, it scooted back until it went through the wall and out of his room. Before it left, it let out a quiet grumble.

That was all it took? For him to just shoo the ghosts away? Unbelievable. But something in the back of his mind told him that it wasn’t that simple and that he shouldn’t try it out for himself.

“There. I took care of that ghost for you. Not that it really matters anyway,” Castor bitterly said. “You’re welcome, grease. Maybe this isn’t worth it anyway. I just needed some help.”

Ponyboy straightened his back, contemplating everything. Part of him hated how easy it was for him to be swayed by evil ghosts. But this ghost wasn’t quite evil, he didn’t think. He did save him. Therefore, it should be alright, right? He was annoying, yes. Childish too. Heck, he was even snobbish. He can trust just one.

Before he could do anything, Ponyboy stopped himself. No. He can’t trust even one ghost. It didn’t matter if this one seemed different. He could turn on him in a blink of an eye. If Dally taught him anything, is that he should get smart and make sure his nose doesn’t get stuck anywhere where it didn’t belong. That being said, he turned his back to Castor and tried to leave his room.

“Thought so. You’re going to continue ignoring me… I thought I found someone to talk to before I lose myself.” The last part came out as a whisper, but Pony heard it loud and clear. His hand froze on the doorknob and his eyes shut tightly. He felt bad for doing all this. Castor genuinely sounded lonely. His eyes were so sad, and he looked almost scared of the future. What does a ghost have to be scared about anyway? But he didn’t have the right to decide that. He didn’t know what it was like to be dead.

Just one. He can give in to one ghost and take a look.

With a deep breath, Ponyboy turned around. He lifted his eyes and looked directly at the ghost.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked, shoving his shaking hands in his pockets.

Instead of being surprised by his action, a co*cky smirk curved onto Castor’s face. “Finally.”

Chapter 5: How to Help a Ghost in Need

Chapter Text

It felt weird to make total eye contact with the ghost, knowing that he was dead. At first, there was an awkward silence between them, as if both didn’t know how to go forward from there on. None of them had been in this situation before. Ponyboy had never spoken to a ghost before, and Castor never had a conversation with a living person after he had died. So, it wasn’t that strange that no words bounced off their tongues. They waited for the other person to speak first to get the ball rolling, but that ended up in them tensely staring at each other.

“So…” Castor finally started, clearing his throat. “Why did you pretend that you couldn’t see ghosts?”

“You would have done the same thing if you were in my position,” Ponyboy replied, hugging his stomach.

Castor shrugged in consideration. “Maybe in front of other people, but even when you were alone? This is some gift you were born with. I never thought I would talk to a living person again.”

The greaser was quick to correct him. If there was anything that he needed to set straight, it was this. He needed to make sure that the ghost understood that he wasn’t the experienced medium that he was probably hoping for. This was all new for him. “I wasn’t born with it. I only started to see things a couple of days ago.”

Just like he had thought, Castor was caught off guard at that. His mouth gaped. “A few days ago?! Not since birth?!”

“Sorry if I didn’t feel safe enough to interact with ghosts.” That sentence came with a small bite to the tone. He didn’t mean to be so defensive about it, but something about Castor rubbed him the wrong way.

The soc didn’t seem bothered by his tone though. He scratched his head and leaned back on his heels with a hum. He was probably deciding if it was worth it to speak to a newbie psychic medium. Deciding something, Castor pushed forward. “Still, you got to help me. I want to move on, man.”

That was to be expected. More than likely, all ghosts wanted that, but it sounded like a difficult task. Pony had no experience with helping ghosts and to be given a task such as that seemed like a rather large jump. Plus, what if he had to stick his nose in a place where it didn’t belong? “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that.”

“It should be simple!” Castor chirped, taking his response as an agreement. “All you have to do is resolve what’s keeping me here.”

“That sounds like it’s easier said than done.” Castor’s statement wasn’t much to go off of. It was very vague. But Ponyboy couldn’t help but feel a bit curious about this all. “What’s keeping you here?”

Pinching his brows together, Castor thought for a long moment. After a while, he shook his head, giving up, obviously upset. “I don’t know. All I know is that when I woke up, I felt regret. So, it probably means that I have a message for my friends and family.”

Hopefully, that was only it. But, thinking about it more, maybe it wouldn’t be the best thing to do for him. Ponyboy was a greaser and socs usually had bad impressions of them. His parents wouldn’t want to talk to him or even see him in their neighborhood. His friends might even jump him. Ponyboy already had a bad reputation with socs after the scandal with Bob’s death. But one look at Castor’s puppy-dog eyes had him sighing. He would figure it out later. Maybe a letter would do. “Who are they?”

Again, there was a pause and that pinched brow. “I don’t know.”

“You… don’t know?” Christ, he was going to get into more trouble than it was worth, wasn’t he?

Castor shook his head. “Not even a name. I know I had friends, but I think I forgot them when I died.”

“What… What about your last name then?”

“Forgot that too.”

“How you died?”

“Nope.”

Ponyboy could have cried in exasperation. He whined, “Then how am I supposed to help you?”

“That’s why we have to figure this out together,” Castor said in a way that made it seem like he was solving a math problem for school. Ponyboy ran his fingers through his hair. If only it was that simple. The soc must have recognized the conflict in his eyes because he continued, “I’ll be there with you the entire way. I don’t want to spend time with a greaser, but I’ll put everything down for this.”

“Wow, I’m honored.” Ponyboy rolled his eyes.

“What? You don’t want to help a spirit find peace?”

Ponyboy hesitated. “It’s not that. It’s just that other ghosts are—”

Before he could continue talking, the door creaked open enough for a head to peek in. Ponyboy clamped his mouth shut. Soda popped his head inside the room and curiously asked, “Ponyboy, are you okay? I heard you talking to… yourself?”

The last word came up as a question when he confirmed that nobody else was in the room—not that there would be anyone in there anyway. Through the door, he heard Ponyboy’s one-sided conversation, saying sentences as if he were actually having a conversation with another person. He looked around the room again, just in case someone had snuck into the room, but there was really no one there. He stepped fully inside.

“I was talking to a ghost,” Ponyboy bluntly informed, continuing to dig that hole he had already created. He didn’t have to come up with a lie with Castor next to him anymore.

“Oh,” Soda started awkwardly but still tried to make it seem like he understood him. Soda was always doing that—trying to understand him, he means. He never pushed him, not like how Darry did. But that hardly helped the fact that there was a moment of hesitation because he didn’t believe that there was a ghost.

“So now you don’t hide it?” Castor teased. Ponyboy shot him a pointed look.

“Shut up,” he hissed under his breath.

“Shut up?” Soda repeated in surprise, looking in the empty area Ponyboy was staring at.

Ponyboy quickly shook his head to dismiss it, cheeks reddening. “Not you. It’s-It’s nothing. What did you come here for? I thought you were going to play some poker with the guys.”

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk or not. I know it’s been hard since Johnny and Dally and that might be why you’re…” He cut himself off, but Ponyboy could hear the silent words as clear as day: you’re speaking to people that aren’t there. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “And now it seems like you have an, um, friend.”

“He’s not a friend.” Did Soda really think he had an imaginary friend? To make it worse for him, Castor, decided to boredly swipe his arm through Ponyboy a few times. Each time he did, a cold breeze ran through him that chilled him to the bone. His arms were covered in goosebumps and his hairs stood on their ends. He shuddered, taking a step back to get away from the ghost.

“Are you cold?” Soda asked with a frown, noticing the reaction. The room was a bit too warm in his opinion. The heater had been running and, with the door closed, the heat was trapped in there like a sauna. It was impossible to feel cold there, especially with him wearing a jacket, albeit worn thin.

“It’s cold right in this spot,” Ponyboy answered. Tilting his head to the side, Soda reached his hand forward in the spot Ponyboy was and nearly withdrew it. He was right. It was cold (freezing) where he stood. His hands tingled with numbness the moment he placed them near his brother.

“You’re right,” Soda marveled, watching as Ponyboy pushed his hands away from the area. His brother was staring holes in one particularly empty spot. Those green-gray eyes of his were stormier than usual, putting to shame the cloud-blanketed sky outside. Soda shook his head, getting back on track with his original topic. He studied Ponyboy for a bit before his gentle smile returned. “Anyway, about your friend…”

Ponyboy sighed. There he went again about his so-called friend of his. He zoned out as Soda talked about Johnny and Dally. He already heard this spiel a hundred times already. But sometime during that, Soda stopped and decided to roll with it. If this was the way that Pony was going to heal, then so be it. However, it seemed like he was going backward on his progress.

“So, what is his name?” Soda suddenly asked.

“His name?” Ponyboy repeated. He blinked, snapping his focus back in place. He took a quick glance at the ghost. “Oh, um, it’s Castor.”

“Castor? Nice name.”

“Shucks, you’ll make me blush,” Castor snorted, gliding over to Soda to swipe his hand through him as well.

“Don’t!” Ponyboy quickly interjected, glaring at him. In response, the ghost raised his hands up like he was just caught by the police. He then floated up and drifted around the room. It was honestly a distracting sight.

“I didn’t touch him.”

“Don’t?” Soda repeated, stupefied.

“Not you.” Ponyboy rubbed his eyes with his palms. Soda nodded, mouthing Castor’s name as if it was the answer to everything.

“Why don’t you tell me about your friend?”

Ponyboy didn’t have to think about it. “He’s a handful, that’s for sure.”

They talked for a bit after that. Soda tried to ask him about Castor, but there really wasn’t much to say about him since they just met.

“What does he look like?” Soda tried to ask, smiling so gently that Ponyboy felt bad for making it seem like he was going crazy. “Is he good-looking?”

He could feel Castor lean in to listen. Ponyboy glanced over at him and shrugged in consideration. “Yeah, I guess. He’s not handsome like you though, Soda.”

His brother goofily laughed, eyes brightening up. Castor, meanwhile, drifted closer to the older greaser to inspect him. When he found something to whine about, he said, “Come on, I’m not that bad am I? I’ll admit that this grease here isn’t all that bad looking, but even I think I look better than a rip-off James Dean.”

Now, Ponyboy could tolerate many things. He couldn’t, however, tolerate anyone who insulted Soda. He stepped forward with a harsh glare, but, since Castor was blocking his view, it looked like he was glaring at Soda. “Oh, piss off, why don’t you?”

It was when the ghost moved out of the way did Ponyboy remember that Soda couldn’t see him. When Castor moved, he could see that his brother’s sweet smile was gone. His mouth was parted, and his eyebrows were knitted together in a way that made it seem like he was asking, what did he do wrong.

“Oh, okay,” Soda replied, voice airy. He sounded genuinely hurt. “I’m going to leave you alone now, Pony.”

“No,” Ponyboy tried in order to stop him. “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to—”

“Castor. Yeah, I know.” But he didn’t know. He was just saying that, still playing along even if his words stung him. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Maybe then you’ll be better, were the words unsaid.

“I—” Ponyboy chewed on his tongue. “I’m sorry.”

Soda smiled, this time strained, and repeated, “Get some rest, okay?”

Before Ponyboy could stammer anything else, Soda left. The younger boy dug his palms into his eyes with a groan. Half of him told him to run out there and act normal again, but he ended up deciding against that. He flopped on the bed, not even bothering to get ready to sleep, arms spread out and face facing the ceiling. Today had been a lot, but that was what it was like every day now. He opened his eyes and saw that Castor was looking down at him, that same bored expression on his face. Ponyboy felt his stomach drop.

“Are you going to be staring at me all night?” Ponyboy asked, weirded out.

“Don’t have anywhere else to go,” Castor said. “Can’t sleep either.”

Ponyboy sighed.

“So, who’s Johnny and Dally?” Castor asked to fill the silence that was created.

“Some friends—brothers—that I had,” Ponyboy answered, eyes glassed over.

“Had? What happened? They move away? Get sent to jail?”

“They died.”

Castor shut his mouth, scratching the back of his neck. He opened his mouth before he closed it again, pressing his lips into a thin line. It took a long second for him to speak up again, forcing words out. “Damn, this got depressing fast. How did it happen?”

It was hard to find someone who didn’t know what happened in their neighborhood, but Castor didn’t have his memories and Ponyboy still didn’t want to talk about it. He curled up into a ball on his side, breath shuddering. “It was my fault… Everything was my fault. If I used my head, if I kept my head low, they would have still been here.”

The back of his eyes stung, threatening to spill tears. Unsolicited memories played through his head. It still felt like it happened yesterday. Ponyboy could still feel the heat of the raging flames and he could still smell his hair being singed and the suffocating smoke. The sound when the church crumbled and the screams that left Johnny’s mouth when he was crushed were still heard when everything was silent. When he closed his eyes, he saw blood and corpses. Everything was so vivid, yet it all happened so quickly that his memories were blurred.

After Johnny and Dally died, he was in a terrible depression that no one in the gang really understood. That was something that Ponyboy never quite got. None of them were strangers to losing people, yet they remained strong, and he fell apart.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

But of course, him thinking that only made it worse. So, he turned around so that Castor wouldn’t see the tears that slid down his face and held in the sniffles.

Pathetic. He was so f*cking pathetic.

“Oh,” Castor said. “Do you think that they’re still out there?”

He rubbed the bottom of his eyes with his sleeves and pressed his lips into a thin line. “I would hope that they passed on.”

“Yeah, but they died horrible deaths, it sounded like. They probably got stuck.”

The words were blunt, and it made Ponyboy feel sick to his stomach. This time, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper. If that was true, then there was a possibility they ended up being like those ghosts that he had been seeing. His parents died horrible deaths too. Does that also mean… Suddenly, he wanted to throw up. His words were caught in his throat that was strangling him. He grabbed ahold of his pillow, scrunching it with his fists so tightly that his hand started to shake.

Seeing the shift in demeanor, Castor backpedaled. “Look maybe they did move on.”

But the damage was already there. Ponyboy’s chest was icy cold, and his cheeks now had a layer of salty tears. He ruined their lives more than he realized. He damned them. Did they even remember him? All the memories they made? Christ, did his parents? Swallowing the lump in his throat hurt. This time, he couldn’t help but let out a strangled sob.

“sh*t. Are you crying?”

“Shut up. Just, please, shut up,” Ponyboy croaked, throwing the pillow over his head. He tried to reclaim his breath, but everything was so suffocating. It was him that deserved to die; not them. Why couldn’t it have been him? Johnny deserved so much better. Dally did too. Ponyboy had been naïve back then—so young that he felt his decisions were always right. So naïve that he felt invincible. He knew better now because fate was cruel and had it out for him. Life was fragile and can be taken in a snap of a finger, he learned. “Just shut up.”

Castor chewed on his bottom lip. Just seeing the other boy’s shaking form and hearing his weak voice was enough for him to feel bad for bringing them up. It wasn’t his intention at all, and at the time it seemed like a reasonable comment. However, he knew now that it was inappropriate.

“Ponyboy?” he said, voice tentative. “I bet they moved on.”

He was trying to calm him down, Ponyboy realized. “But what if they didn’t? What if they turned into the other type of ghost? What if—”

He was cut off. “Then wouldn’t you want to help them?”

“Of course,” Ponyboy stammered, throwing the pillow off to finally look at Castor with his puffy eyes. He had to make sure that Castor knew how serious he was about that. He would throw away so much for Johnny. Heck, even though he wasn’t the closest to Dally, he would do the same for him too. He didn’t care if Johnny thought that playing hero was worth it in the end and that his life wasn’t as valuable as others. If Ponyboy had the chance to go back in time, he would make sure that his friend knew how precious his life was.

“You have a chance now. The past is in the past, but that ability of yours lets you change the future of those who already passed. You should help other ghosts because we all need help.”

Golly, was that deep. He wasn’t expecting that to come out of the soc’s mouth.

“We can try it out if you want,” Castor continued. “I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

Ponyboy didn’t reply for a while. He laid back in bed and draped his arm over his eyes. His answer took so long that Castor started to believe he somehow cried himself to sleep. Then he finally spoke, “Fine. Just promise me that none of them will touch me.”

He wasn’t expecting Castor to respond to his last sentence, let alone agree to it. He thought at the most he would be laughed at. His eyelids were heavy, and exhaustion had finally caught up to him. But right before he could drift off, he heard the ghost say, “I promise. No harm will come to you.”

The next morning, when Ponyboy woke up again, the first thing he saw was Castor’s face staring down at him. He instantly jolted out of bed, almost waking up Soda in the process. A jolt of anxiety flashed through him. Castor leaned back to give them space.

“Why are you staring at me?” Ponyboy breathed heavily, voice low and grumbly. His throat felt sore from his crying from last night. “Were you doing that all night?”

“Not all night. I wandered around the house before coming back here. There isn’t much to do in this dump,” Castor sighed. “By the way, you talk in your sleep.”

When he got a pointed look from Ponyboy, he continued, “Don’t worry. I didn’t mess with anyone while you were asleep. Scout’s honor.”

Ponyboy ran a hand through his hair. He tiredly swung his legs over the side, pulling off Soda’s arm that was wrapped over his midsection. He tried to play it cool and not show the massive amount of embarrassment he felt because of being watched all night while he was asleep. And, also, for Castor finding out that he still slept with his brother and that he talks in his sleep.

“Why do you still sleep with your brother?” Castor pried. And there it was. It was the question that Ponyboy knew was coming. “How old are you? Thirteen?”

“Fourteen!” Ponyboy quickly corrected.

Castor shrugged. “Same difference.”

He huffed. “Well, how old are you? You don’t look much older.”

“I think I’m fifteen.” He said this after thinking for a while. Just another memory he lost. “Anyway, you’re dodging my question.”

Ponyboy looked back at Soda who had drool running down his chin, mouth slightly ajar, and escaping snores. It was morning but Soda was still deep in sleep and probably would be for another couple of hours. Soda had never complained about sleeping next to him, but he rarely showed what he was feeling deep down. It was probably time to sleep in separate rooms, but Ponyboy was having nightmares every other night.

He then looked outside the window, noticing how dark it was. It looked like it was nighttime, but it was morning judging by the time on his clock. It didn’t sound like anybody was awake yet. He readjusted the blanket as he laid back down, snuggling into the warmth. He continued to avoid the original question. If Castor stuck around, it wouldn’t take long for him to see why anyway. “Let me go back to sleep.”

“But I want to get things done now. It’s morning,” Castor said, frowning.

But he was already partially asleep. “Let me rest for a few more minutes…” And don’t stare, he wanted to say.

“Nope. We’re going.”

Ponyboy shot him a challenging look. “What can you do to stop me? You can’t do anything.”

“Are you doubting me, grease?” He cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Great, he was going to talk his ears off again. That was what Ponyboy thought anyway. He didn’t, however, expect him to start belting the Beatles, All My Loving… and badly too. His voice rattled his brain, like nails against a chalkboard. He covered his ears, but Castor’s voice somehow permeated through.

There was no way he was going to get any more sleep like this. Groaning, he got up. “Fine. Fine. You win.”

Instantly, Castor stopped and co*ckily grinned. Ponyboy slipped on his jacket. Hopefully, they would get back before anybody could wake up. He just knew that Darry would misinterpret the situation.

When he finally stepped outside the house, it was much colder than he thought it was going to be. The wind blew through his pajamas and coat, but, at the same time, it was really nice. A fresh and dewy scent filled his nostrils—so clean that it was revitalizing. It was still pretty dark out. The streetlights were still on but even without them, they probably could have navigated around just fine. Even though it was difficult to wake up early in the morning, it was this serene ambiance that made Ponyboy question why it was so underrated.

The two of them walked around for a bit, enjoying the morning weather. It didn’t take long to find a ghost. The world was infested with them. They were only about a block away from his house when they saw one. It was thin and its skin stuck to every curve of its bones. They were quite a distance away from it, yet they could see its sharp details clearly. It was crouched on the ground like it was doing a crab walk.

Castor motioned him forward and Ponyboy gulped. Now that he was there, actually trying to communicate with them was too much for him. Ponyboy gave a pitiful look at his ghost companion, begging him to not let him go. He wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and subconsciously held his breath.

“Come on, go for it, greaser,” Castor urged. Great. Here goes nothing, he guessed.

Ponyboy forced one leg in front of him. The bottom of his foot dragged against the pavement; a heavy weight attached that wanted to tether him to his spot. He took another heavy step forward, feeling Castor stare at his back impatiently. He started to regret agreeing to this. It was a whole lot easier to ignore ghosts.

Eventually, his shuffling caught the attention of the ghost who tilted its head backward. It opened its mouth and let out a screech, causing its sunken cheeks to be more noticeable. Ponyboy stared straight ahead out of habit, ignoring it to the best of his ability. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched.

“DO YOU SEE ME?” the ghost screeched just like any other ghost. Now, all Ponyboy had to do was say yes and go from there. But his words were clogged in his throat and his brain was screaming at him to book it out of there. Ponyboy finally stopped in front of it, eyes still staring at the wall ahead. “I THINK YOU DO.”

No way. He couldn’t do it. These weren’t harmless. They were dangerous and scary.

Ponyboy’s eyes were watery, legs coming to a halt. It took everything in him to not look at it. The ghost crawled up the fence they were next to so that its face could be inches away from his own and Ponyboy felt himself gulp.

“LOOK AT ME.”

No.

“I’M RIGHT HERE.”

He couldn’t do it. He wanted to walk away and pretend that nothing was there, but the face was right in front of him. His knees were locked in place, making him feel dizzy. Stars danced across his darkened vision. For the first time since he started seeing ghosts, Ponyboy couldn’t find one thing to say to avoid the situation.

Just before he could collapse, the smell of sandalwood filled his nose, waking him up like smelting salts. Suddenly, a voice whispered into his ear.

“Repeat after me,” Castor said, sending chills down his spine. “Oh, shoot, zoned out for a second.”

Those words almost caused Ponyboy to whip around. How strange was it that Castor was encouraging him to ignore this ghost instead of talking to it. He opened his mouth and repeated what was said. The spider-like ghost tilted its head to the side, boggled eyes flicked to Castor almost curiously. It was a good thing that Castor spoke so quietly so that only he could hear him, otherwise, Ponyboy would have looked suspicious.

“Go,” Castor then ushered. “Walk slowly.”

The spirit hovered over his shoulder as Ponyboy finally got enough of a push to start walking again. The ghost was left behind and only when it was out of sight did he relax. He finally took a deep breath, letting the smell of sandalwood and rain fill his nostrils.

Eventually, they made it to the nearby park. Ponyboy pulled himself on top of the wet monkey bars, swinging his legs and ignoring the feeling of the water seeping through his pants. The sun started to rise over the horizon, making the morning dew sparkle. It was silent for a long moment and Pony was deciphering if Castor was disappointed with him or not. He shook his head. What a silly thought that was. Why should he care if Castor was disappointed or not? He never wanted to do it in the first place. But even as he thought that he couldn’t help but say defeatedly, “Sorry for not being able to do it in the end. I don’t think I ever will.”

Instead of being teased, as he had expected him to do, Castor replied, “Don’t worry about it.”

A cold hand rested itself on his shoulder and Ponyboy instantly flinched away. The touch was so light that it was almost unnoticeable, but it was definitely there. The previous ghost incident quickly left Ponyboy’s mind as he spun around so quickly that he almost fell off the monkey bars. Bewilderment was clear on his face. “Did you just touch me?”

Castor was just as shocked as he was—probably more. He turned his hand over to inspect it. For a second, he felt Ponyboy’s warmth. The fleeted feeling of actual contact was surreal. The entire time that he had been dead, he had never been able to touch anything (he couldn’t even feel the ground beneath his feet). It was a feeling that was easily missed and something he longed for. “I-I think I did.”

“But I thought you couldn’t touch anything.”

“I thought so too.” He reached forward, hoping that Ponyboy wouldn’t dodge his touch again. He just had to feel that again. Luckily, Ponyboy let him. But much to his disappointment, his hand fazed through. What happened before was now just a memory of a feeling that was already being forgotten. He swiped his hand through Ponyboy’s abdomen, dark bags under his eyes becoming more prominent as desperation took over. And that small moment that Pony granted him to test it out was quickly gone as well.

“Golly, stop that, why don’t you?” Ponyboy interjected, shivering each time the hand fazed through him.

“I just—”

Ponyboy nodded before he could finish his sentence. “I know. We can try again later if you’d like.”

He turned away and looked at the couple that was also there on their morning walk. Both of them were looking at him like he was crazy for talking to himself. His ears turned pink, and he ducked his head and shut his mouth tight. But that was when he heard another voice, one that he thought he would never hear again, cut through the chilly breeze, “Ponyboy? Is that you?”

His eyes widened, and the ringing in his ears that started was deafening. He looked up to see two familiar figures. His voice cracked. “Johnny? Dally?”

Chapter 6: Dally and Johnny

Chapter Text

This couldn’t be real. This must have been a mirage or something like that—just a hallucination created by the depths of his mind. It was some cruel trick that his brain was playing on him, teasing him of people he wanted back when it knew he would never. Ponyboy thought that he had finally accepted their deaths. He knew that he was never going to see them again, even with this stupid ability of his. He wasn’t that lucky. But here they were, looking just as solid as a living being.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, vision blurring with a layer of tears that didn’t fall. He parted his mouth but no words that he wanted to tell them came out. Maybe a greeting or a statement that would express how much he missed them. It was almost funny. Before he saw them, he had a million things he wanted to tell them—memories that they missed, emotions that he felt, discoveries that he made. Now, with them in front of him, he couldn’t even think of one word. But he had to say something. Ponyboy feared that if he stayed silent, Johnny and Dally would leave, and he would never see them again.

“Is that really you guys?” he settled on, voice trembling. He slipped off the monkey bars and stepped forward hesitantly. “I’m not imagining you?”

Both Johnny and Dally looked at each other. It was probably a silent conversation about him being able to see them.

Johnny was the first to speak and Ponyboy was seriously going to let his tears fall, “It’s us, Ponyboy.”

A couple of months was all it took for Ponyboy to start forgetting what his voice sounded like. It only took three words for him to remember.

“Who else would it be?” Dally added just as coolly as he did in the past. Ponyboy sniffled which caused the other greaser to raise an eyebrow. He turned to Johnny and gestured to Pony. “Look at what happened, man. He started to cry.”

Ponyboy quickly wiped at his face. He really needed to stop doing that. It wasn’t tuff at all. Johnny looked at him with concern and asked, “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? How could he ask that? They knew why he started to cry… right? A shift of movement near him reminded him that Castor was there—a ghost who couldn’t remember anything about his past but his first name. When he learned that ghosts lose their memories, he feared that his friends wouldn’t remember him. But they recognized him. So, it was okay. It had to be. Castor had to be one of the few ghosts that forgot.

Then a horrible thought passed through his brain. What if Johnny and Dally didn’t know they were dead? How many memories did they actually have?

He shook his head. Don’t think about it. He forced a watery smile onto his face.

“I thought I would never see you guys again,” he said. Again, the two ghosts looked at each other. What was so weird about what he said?

“Why the hell did that come to mind?” Dally questioned with a huff. “We just went for a walk. It wasn’t like we died or something.”

Ponyboy’s throat tightened even more, stomach suddenly dropping. It was just as he thought. He shouldn’t have jinxed it. He let out a shuttering breath.

Their response raised another question: should he tell them they died, or should he let them go on, oblivious to it all? Something like that was horrible to tell someone—they may not even believe him—but it was something they had to know, right? That was the right thing to do. They wouldn’t be happy to hear it, but Ponyboy knew they would find out eventually and be mad at him for lying.

“Are you gonna tell us, or what?” Dally asked, getting impatient.

“I want you to promise me something,” Ponyboy started, swallowing thickly.

Dally raised his eyebrow again. “What? What’s got you like this?”

“Just listen to me, okay?”

“What is it, Ponyboy?” Johnny asked. “What do you want us to promise?”

“Promise me… Promise me that you’ll believe me no matter what. It’s going to sound crazy, but I swear it’s true.”

“You’re already sounding crazy, you know that?” Dally pointed out.

“We promise,” Johnny answered for both of them. “Right, Dally?”

Dally sighed, defeatedly. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

Ponyboy looked away, unable to bring himself to look at them once he ripped the bandage off.

“Well…” he swallowed. His hands wrapped around his stomach. “I said that because… because you both died.”

There was a long pause—the silence was so loud that it was suffocating. He waited for them to process his words even though it made him go about mad. Finally, a short, unbelieving laugh came from Dally.

“Yeah, right,” he said. “You expect us to believe that?”

“But you promised!” Ponyboy desperately reminded. He snapped his head up, sweating even though it was freezing outside.

“That was before you sprouted that f*cked up sentence, man! Why would we even believe that?”

“Because you did! I swear!”

“Bullsh*t!” Dally growled. “If we were dead, then how are we here, huh?”

Throughout this entire exchange, Johnny stayed silent. Emotions shifted on his face one after the other as if he was constantly trying to debate his own mind. His silence didn’t go unnoticed by them. When Dally turned to get him to join and argue Ponyboy’s revelation, he found him with his hand on his chin.

“Come on, Johnny, do you believe his lie or not?” Dally asked.

But instead of him agreeing, Johnny said, “We… died?”

He spoke those words slowly, trying to test them out. His eyebrows were pulled together as he searched his brain for memories that were missing. Ponyboy felt his chest crushing at how lost he looked.

“You didn’t know?” Ponyboy questioned. “Both of you died months ago.”

“Months ago?” Johnny repeated. His fingers twitched as he shook his head, whimpering. “We didn’t die, Ponyboy. We’re right here. Golly, we just took a walk. How could you say that?”

“See? Stop trying to pull our legs,” Dally added.

It hurt to hear them say that to him, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting them to react like that. He knew full well that they weren’t going to believe him. His heart was pounding against his chest. If he stopped now, it would be bad for him.

“I’m not lying,” he tried again.

“Then how are we talking to you?” Dally argued.

Ponyboy was starting to get really desperate. He placed a hand on his chest. “Then tell me, what was the last thing you remember? You said you were on a long walk, but do you remember anything else? How about yesterday? Do you remember who your parents were or your birthdays? How about the gang? Tell me everyone’s names. If you can answer these questions here, I’ll take everything back.”

That threw both of them off. Their brows pinched together as they desperately searched for the answers to the questions that Ponyboy asked. Anything. They needed one memory—something that would confirm that they weren’t dead. They couldn’t be dead. Please, don’t let them actually be dead. But with them thinking of the answers that much was confirmation to everyone.

“You can’t, right?” Ponyboy continued, sniffling. “I bet that you don’t even remember your last names. You’re both dead. I’m just sorry that I had to be the one to tell this to you.”

“But… but…” Johnny stuttered, mind spinning. Could ghosts barf? If they could, he felt like he was about to. “We were just on a walk. And I… We…”

“This is all bullsh*t,” Dally said again, angrily kicking a rock on the ground. That was his intention anyway. His foot fazed through it, making it so there were no more excuses. They were dead, but nothing made sense to them. The world felt like it was crashing into them all at once. Why couldn’t they remember anything? It didn’t feel like they were missing anything. Dally and Johnny knew each other just fine, and when they saw Ponyboy, his name instantly popped up in their heads. Why were they walking for so long and how come they never thought to stop and question that?

Both of them didn’t know how to react to this revelation. Their minds were swimming. Johnny let out a shuttered breath. So, this was it? He was probably around Ponyboy’s age, maybe older by a couple of years. He couldn’t remember his age. That made him just a kid when he died. How did he die? That was far too young. He took one look at Ponyboy and realized something.

“If we’re dead, what about you?” Johnny asked. “How come you can see us? You’re not dead too, are you?”

Ponyboy solemnly shook his head, letting out an empty laugh, “I’m not. I don’t know how I can see you. I just can. It started recently.”

“Then…” Johnny wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to the question he was about to ask. “How did we… you know?”

Ponyboy chewed on his inner cheeks. He dug his nails into his arms. “I don’t think I should say.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t drop this on us and leave it as that,” Dally complained, finally speaking up again.

“What would you like me to say?” Ponyboy growled, turning to him. “Do you want me to tell you that it was my fault? It was my fault that Johnny had no other choice but to kill a soc? It was my fault that I ran into a fire to save random kids? It was my fault that the building ended up collapsing on Johnny who was so critically injured that if he didn’t die, he would have been paralyzed for the rest of his life? It was my fault that Johnny died, and you lost it because of that. You got shot down by the police. Is that what you want to know?”

“Golly, Ponyboy,” Johnny said. His lips were parted, shock on his face. Dally looked similar but there was more contemplation on his face as if he always knew how he was going to die. That didn’t mean Dally wasn’t angry about the whole situation. He was sort of pissed that Pony’s stupid decisions got them to this situation prematurely. Both thought back and some memories started to come back. They were flashes and snippets, but it wasn’t much to go off of. Perhaps they will remember more later. They had brutal deaths, but even though Ponyboy blamed himself, and he probably did contribute to some parts of it, they didn’t feel any (or much) resentment towards him. They didn’t even feel regret. “It’s not your fault, I’m sure of it. I don’t remember much, but I don’t feel any regret or resentment.”

“But you died so horribly! You were in so much pain… both of you…”

“It was our decision in the end, not yours.”

“It can’t be a decision if a building collapsed on you.”

“But it is one if I ran in there myself.”

“But—”

“God damn it, Ponyboy, do you really have to keep blaming yourself over everything,” Dally sighed in irritation, causing Ponyboy to flinch. “You f*cked up and I’m pissed, but it makes me even madder that you’re so stuck on it. Use what happened to get smarter.”

“Don’t you both hate me though?”

“We could never hate you,” Johnny quickly answered. “There’s no telling what will happen in the future, so it must have been our time to go. You weren’t the one who decided that for us. So, how could we hate you? Ponyboy, we wouldn’t hate you even if you burned down the world. Our deaths weren’t your fault.”

Ponyboy’s lips trembled. He had been holding onto whatever pain that he could to satisfy his guilty conscience. He wanted some outlet for losing them and who was better than himself? Ponyboy realized that he wanted to hear those words from someone this entire time as well. For so long, he listened to people blaming him and it wasn’t hard to convince him that it was his fault.

It was so easy to blade himself, but he had to remember that reason existed as well.

“Right. Yeah, you’re right,” Ponyboy sobbed, rubbing his eyes with the bottom of his palms. He didn’t think the feeling of blame would ever leave, but at that moment, he felt a weight off of his chest get lifted. “Thank you… for everything.”

The last sentence was mostly there for him to feel some sort of resolution. It was something he wanted to tell them for a while but never got the chance to do so.

“Anyway, what’s this soc doing here? He’s been listening in on us this entire time,” Dally noted, pointing to Castor. His eyes narrowed. Ponyboy had totally forgotten he was there. He was still sitting on the monkey bars and listening to their conversation. At the question, the ghost lightly jumped down, but it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to them by how he held himself. He positioned himself next to Ponyboy but didn’t speak.

“Uh… this is Castor,” Ponyboy introduced for him, laughing awkwardly. He tried to meet Castor’s eyes, but his attention was turned elsewhere. “He’s a ghost too. He’s the reason why I knew you two didn’t remember anything. In fact… How’d you find out you were dead, Castor?”

But before Castor could answer the question, Dally interrupted. “That’s not what I asked.”

Not what he asked? Oh. “I promised—”

“No.” Again, Dally stopped him. He pointed a finger at Castor. “I want him to speak for himself.”

Although he said that, Castor didn’t talk, but he did turn to Ponyboy as if expecting him to say something. “Castor? Well? Why are you here?”

This time Castor spoke, “You promised that you would help me move on.”

He said the answer as if didn’t acknowledge that Dally was the one who asked it. Dally seemed to notice that as well and he snorted. “So, he does speak. Why don’t you face me when I’m speaking to you?”

“Why would I waste my breath on you?” When Dally grew obviously angrier, Castor laughed which only made it worse. He stepped forward and Ponyboy stepped between them, but he knew that it wouldn’t do anything even if they were all alive. Dally did whatever he wanted and almost nothing could stop him. Castor made a mocking face, once again showing how childish he was. Ponyboy just wanted to shoo him away before he somehow made it even worse.

“Dally,” Johnny nervously said, quickly interjecting before Dally could do anything. “Stop. I don’t think he’s bad.”

“I ain’t gotta be nice. I’m not nice at all. You and I know that, man.”

“Dally…”

The two of them had a short stare-down before, finally, Dally sighed. Leave it to Johnny, the only guy Ponyboy knew that could talk to Dally that way and rein him a bit. He turned back to Ponyboy, furry still in his eyes. “Why are you making stupid promises like this? He can’t be trusted. You gotta wise up, man.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Ponyboy reassured. That was a big fat lie. Even Castor knew that by how he raised an eyebrow at him. So, he added, “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry. Besides, Castor’s not all that bad. Once this is done, he won’t be around no more.”

Johnny tilted his head, observing him with his big eyes that were partially covered by his bangs. “You’re a bit different, I think.”

In the past, Ponyboy probably would have gotten really defensive over what Dally said. He didn’t like to be treated like a child (he still doesn’t) and he would have expressed that. Now, Ponyboy knew that Dally was trying to look out for him. He was good at hiding it and he was far from a great guy, but he still cared for him and everyone else in the gang.

“Am I?” Ponyboy chuckled softly.

“Did everything change that much after we died?”

Ponyboy nodded. “It’s not the same with you both gone. It just doesn’t feel like a gang no more, just some friends sticking through tough lives.”

Thinking about it, it was always like that from the beginning. Although they categorized themselves as a gang, they never acted like one. They weren’t like Tim’s crew. They were just friends messing around.

“I want to meet them again,” Johnny declared, eyes sparkling.

“I wish they could all see you too! Two-Bit, Steve, Soda, and Darry—” Ponyboy started but choked. The excited smile that Johnny caused from the one sentence dropped as he remembered something. How long had he been talking to them? He lost track of time. Darry was definitely up by now and he probably check in his room to make sure he was there if Soda hadn’t woken up and discovered him missing first. He slapped himself on the forehead, stomach dropping. “Christ, Darry! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that,” Castor hummed and let Johnny Dally in on what was happening. “He snuck out.”

“I snuck out? You’re the one who forced me out.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that you snuck out.”

He was right as much as he hated it.

“I’m sure Darry won’t kill you,” Johnny said. He probably just remembered about Darry, but Pony had no time to dwell on that.

“No. No, he will,” Ponyboy swallowed, slightly shaking. He shook his head, remembering the flurry of movements and screams just enough. It was hard to remember the smaller details. He would have thought it would have been the other way around. The event should have left a scar in his memories because of being hit for the first time. “He’s going to go ballistic, Johnny. You should have seen him when I got home late that night before you...”

Johnny was understanding. He always was. He nodded his head. “Then you should go back.”

Ponyboy didn’t want to leave though. He knew now that he would get to see them again, but he was still afraid that he wouldn’t. As ironic as it was, he didn’t want to stop seeing ghosts despite having wanted to get rid of the ability before. “But what about you guys?”

“Don’t worry about us.”

“Just go, Jesus, Ponyboy,” Dally shooed.

Pressing his lips together, he turned on his heels, crossed his arms to keep warm, and started his trek back home. When he looked over his shoulder, the two of them were gone.

When he got back home, the lights were on in his house, and it was eerily quiet. It almost made Pony turn back around, but he knew his brothers were worried. He opened the door and softly shut it behind him in a last attempt to pretend he had never left. However, Darry was sitting on the couch so there was no chance for him to slip by without notice. As soon as he got in, his brother slammed his hands down and Ponyboy knew he was going to hear it.

“Where did you go?” The question was phrased innocently. Too bad the tone of voice wasn’t the same.

“I went on a walk,” Ponyboy answered, rubbing his arm. Darry’s face went red.

“Without telling anyone?! Did you not learn from last time?! What was going through your head when you did that? What was your whole thought process?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Ponyboy apologized, ducking his head. Soda wasn’t there, he realized. He usually helped calm conflicts between Darry and him. But since he wasn’t there, he hoped that Darry would leave everything as that, but, of course, he continued.

“Why can’t you ever use your head? You’re supposed to be smart.” Darry stood up and Ponyboy, without meaning to, took a step back. Darry froze, words caught on the tip of his tongue. He seemed to realize that they were repeating the past all over again at that moment and took a deep breath.

Calmer this time, he continued, “Do you know how worried I—We were when we couldn’t find you? Soda is out there looking for you. We thought that—”

“I know,” Ponyboy muttered, guilt causing his stomach to sink to his toes. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Usually, Darry wouldn’t just accept that. He would have lectured him for a while, but he must have looked out of it. He asked him why he left, but that moment wasn’t a good time to tell him he went out looking for ghosts. He rubbed his temple, promising that he wouldn’t sneak out again despite knowing that wasn’t true. He knew this wasn’t going to be the only time. Finally, after Darry did a short rant, he shooed him off to get ready for school.

Chapter 7: Something Is Up

Chapter Text

Darry and Ponyboy had gotten past the conflict that morning. So, why was the car ride to school so tense? The ride was silent. The radio was turned off and no words were spoken between them. The only reason why it wasn’t unbearable was because Castor, who was sitting in the back seat, was filling the emptiness with random gibberish. It was sure better than nothing. Ponyboy was glad for his talking for once.

He slumped down in his seat, squeezing his legs around his backpack that was on the floor. His eyes flickered over to the wheel, watching Darry tap his fingers like a metronome. He forced himself to look away, swallowing the lump in his throat.

When Darry pulled into the property of the school and slowed to a stop at the back of the drop-off line, Castor’s gibberish stopped and his breath hitched. Before Ponyboy could ask what was wrong, he felt a rush of cold go straight through him, spreading across his chest like ice freezing over a pond. But when he looked down, he couldn’t help but sigh. Castor’s head was poked through the seat and his chest to get a better look at the incoming school. His lips were pressed into a thin line. His expression was so intense that it brought a whole new feeling inside the vehicle altogether.

“What are you doing now?” Ponyboy whispered, noticing that Darry glanced over at him with a frown. Castor kept his face forward.

“For some reason,” Castor started, “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

Pony’s eyes widened slightly. “You went here?”

Castor shook his head. “Not sure… Maybe. It’s just a feeling.”

This was a good sign. If it seemed familiar to him, there was a chance that he attended the same school as him, which meant two things. One: there were records of him there. Two: information was a lot more accessible than if the ghost attended another school. He felt a surge of excitement. However, that quickly was washed down when he remembered that he still didn’t know what Castor’s last name was or the year he was in when he died. He needed to find those two things out before he could get anywhere. If not both, at least his last name. But it was a start. Knowing this much already made everything seem more achievable. The possibilities shrunk down quite a bit because of it. Now all he had to do was find out where to begin.

The coldness in his chest was starting to get overwhelming, making it hard to think. It was also very disturbing to see a head pop out of his chest like that. He swatted at Castor’s face even though he knew it would do nothing but numb his hands.

“Will you stop that?” Ponyboy complained, shivering. “You know I don’t like it when you do that. Sit back in your seat. Make sure your head is touching the backrest.”

Castor rolled his eyes, finally looking away from the school. He smiled (too sweetly) at him and removed his head. Ponyboy felt warmth rush back in him like morning rays of light that melted the frost on grass. He thought after that, Castor would leave him alone until he stepped into the school. However, Castor just loved to pick on him.

Instead of his head, the ghost pushed his two legs through Ponyboy instead. Once again, the coldness came back.

“Hey!” Ponyboy whined.

“What?” Castor innocently asked. “You never said I couldn’t stick my legs through you. You just said to keep my head against the backrest, and it is.”

Ponyboy clenched his jaw and spun his head around with a pointed expression. Sure enough, Castor had his head on the back of his seat. He was slouched slightly, propping his legs through the seat (and through him as an added bonus). Technically, Castor wasn’t wrong and that was irritating. He had a knack for twisting Pony’s words for his entertainment.

“Fine, you’re right,” Ponyboy admitted. “How about this, no sticking any part of your body through the seat.”

Castor’s Cheshire grin grew. He sat up and removed his legs, leaning forward so that he was a little less than a foot away from Pony’s face. He was so close that Ponyboy’s ears involuntarily started to turn red, and butterflies momentarily fluttered in his stomach. He couldn’t help it! Castor was suddenly so close to him, eyes not breaking from his own. It was unexpected, that’s all. Nothing more.

“Then I’ll just stick my arm through your head over the seat,” Castor laughed. “And if you aren’t satisfied with that and you tell me that my body has to be outside the car, then I’ll just stick my hand through the window. Or I can wait for you to leave. You can’t stay in there forever, Lil’ Grease.”

Lil’ Grease? Ponyboy blinked. He didn’t know how he felt about that sudden nickname.

“Who the heck are you talking to?” Darry asked, moving the car one more spot forward.

“Oh, there’s a ghost in the back seat,” Ponyboy replied, watching Castor sit back in his seat nonchalantly. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding in.

Darry looked into his rearview mirror but didn’t see anyone back there. Not that he could anyway. He sighed, temple pounding. It was too early in the morning, and he already felt like he had already dealt with too much that day. “I was meaning to talk to you about that. Soda and I think it would be best to get you some help.”

“What?” Ponyboy’s attention was instantly snapped away from the ghost. His eyes went wide as he fully processed what Darry had said.

“I know it’s been hard with everything that went on and you’re still struggling with that. Soda and I talked about it and clearly, we failed to help you, so it would be best for a professional to talk to you. They can best assess you.”

Ponyboy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did they seriously think he needed help? He wasn’t crazy! He really did see a ghost—an annoying one at that—in the backseat. He never lied to the gang about that sort of stuff, but that didn’t change the fact that to other people, he looked like he was talking to himself all the time. But that didn’t matter! He would reiterate it over and over again. He. Was. Not. Crazy. The gang probably thought he went all loony or something. “I don’t need help.”

“Yes, you do. Trust me.”

You’re crazy.

There’s something wrong with you.

You need to be fixed but you’re too broken for us to piece together.

A broken plate, you are.

You belong in an asylum.

These were the sentences that his brain decided to fill in the empty blanks. Ponyboy clenched his hands into fists. “I. Don’t. Need. It. You can’t decide what I need.”

“You could only say that if you weren’t my kid brother, kid brother. I mean, Jesus, Ponyboy, look at you. You’ve been talking to people that aren’t there. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? There’s a ghost there!”

“Stop that!” Darry bellowed, causing Ponyboy to flinch. “Nothing is back there. There were never ghosts around because they don’t exist. You’re getting that help. That’s non-negotiable. We can discuss this more later.”

Ponyboy’s jaw was clenching so hard that it felt like his teeth were about to crack from the pressure. Why couldn’t anyone ever listen to him? Why did they have to automatically think he was crazy? Forget about a boys home, he had to worry about getting sent to an asylum or a hospital for all the crazies in the world—a place where they would drug him up and do all these illicit experiments on him that would actually make him go mad. Maybe even dead. “I’m not doing it. That’s the non-negotiable part.”

Before Darry could argue, Ponyboy opened the door and stepped out.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Darry yelled. “We’re not at the front of the line and we’re not done talking! Get back in here!”

“I’ll walk,” Ponyboy stated with a glare, slamming the door shut. He was probably going to get yelled at when he got home again, but he was too riled up to think about that. He was seething. How dare he make assumptions about him? His nails dug crescents into his palms. Today was just going to be a conflict-with-Darry day. Whatever.

“Ponyboy!” he could hear Darry yell through the door. He reached over to spin the hand crank to lower the window so that he would be able to project his voice louder. Too bad for him that Ponyboy didn’t see the worth of sticking around for that. Without looking back, he walked towards the school building. Castor slipped through and out of the vehicle, laughing as he followed behind Ponyboy.

“You should have seen how funny he looked just then!” Castor cackled. “His face was so angry, but he looked so ridiculous cranking the window down. Oh man, if only I could have taken a picture.”

When Ponyboy didn’t respond, he continued, mood slightly killed, “Oh well, a mental one works. But jeez.”

“Don’t you dare go at me two,” Ponyboy groaned, ignoring the looks he got from people because of the commotion.

“No, I would never.” What a liar. Ponyboy rolled his eyes.

They soon made it through the front doors of the school and Ponyboy expertly weaved through the crowd of students to his first class with Mr. Flannigan. When he slipped through, after having to get past a couple that was grossly making out, he was met with a box of Hot Tamales right in front of his face, the snack his teacher always seemed to be chewing on. He once told him that it helped with withdrawals. How he managed to land a teaching job after apparent substance abuse? Ponyboy didn’t know but he had so many questions. He kept his mouth shut about it though because he liked this teacher a lot.

“Want some?” Mr. Flannigan offered, raddling the box.

“Sure?” Ponyboy answered, nose twitching at the sharp cinnamon scent. He held his hands out and let the teacher jiggle some of the candy into them.

“Hey, share with the class!” a student, who noticed the exchange, yelled out. “You never offered that to any of us.”

The teacher goofily grinned, scratching the back of his head. “You’re right, but tragically, I don’t have enough for all of you.”

“Plus,” the teacher continued, quieter so that only Ponyboy would hear, “you looked like you needed a pick me up.”

Throughout the entire exchange, Castor was beside him, very silent. Ponyboy wished that he would have left to explore the premises; get some memories unlocked in exchange. Mr. Flannigan went to go back to his desk, walking past Castor who watched him go like a hawk. Ponyboy went to sit at his desk as well, pulling the ghost out of thought.

“What was that about?” Ponyboy whispered, earning a weird look from the people who sat immediately around him.

“I’ve met him before,” Castor answered.

“You have?” Ponyboy looked at him. “What else do you remember?”

“Not much. I know I met him.” He hummed, trying to remember anything. He hit his head in frustration. Why did everything that came back to him so broken that it was impossible to piece together the story? He felt like he was doing a thousand-piece puzzle where each piece was an important memory. He could remember a similar figure whose face was completely covered by a shadow. It felt like his brain was trying to remember but the more he concentrated, the more static there was.

“We can ask after class. How about that?”

Castor nodded. During the entire lesson, the ghost couldn’t take his eyes off Mr. Flannigan. He tried to remember but he was drawing a blank. He groaned in frustration. He needed the teacher to do something else. Maybe that would trigger something.

When the class finally ended, Ponyboy walked up to the teacher.

“I don’t have any more candy,” Mr. Flannigan joked.

“I just had a question,” Ponyboy said, shaking his head.

“Shoot.”

“Do you happen to know of a student named Castor?”

Mr. Flannigan raised an eyebrow. “I know a lot of students. Do you know how many students I have taught?”

Ponyboy’s ears turned red. He awkwardly laughed. “Sorry. Yeah, that was a dumb question.”

“Describe Castor though. Maybe I’ll remember something.”

Ponyboy nodded. “Castor was a student here. He passed away maybe a year or a few ago. I heard that he might have been one of your students.”

“I’m guessing he’s the one that’s right next to you?”

At those words, Ponyboy felt like he had tripped. Even Castor was caught off guard. “What?”

“The young spirit there.” To surprise them even more, Mr. Flannigan pointed straight at Castor.

Ponyboy was beyond baffled. He blubbered like a fish, mind exploding with a thousand questions. He never expected that anyone else besides him was able to see them. He knew that he wasn’t going crazy, but this was a confirmation that he didn’t know he needed.

“You can see him?” he asked at the same time that Castor said, “You can see me?”

“I can. He’s been following you all morning,” Mr. Flannigan said in concern. “Is he bothering you, Ponyboy?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” His brain was still spinning. “Sorry. I just didn’t think I would ever meet anyone that could see them as well. I have so many things I want to ask you.”

“With due time.” The teacher smiled and Ponyboy grinned back. “Now about Castor…”

“Oh!” Ponyboy gestured to the ghost next to him. “Do you recognize him?”

Castor nervously gulped when Mr. Flannigan’s eyes turned solely on him for a while, taking every detail of him apart. “I do recognize him, but if you’re going to ask me what else I know about him, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I don’t get that close to my students.”

“I understand,” Ponyboy said, nodding yet a bit disappointed.

“You don’t have your memories, Castor?”

“No, sir,” Castor answered sadly. “That’s what we’re trying to get back.”

“I would advise you to be careful then. I know a lot of spirits who go haywire when they find out how they died or how their life was beforehand. They lose themselves; turn dark. It’s better to live a new, pure life while you have the chance. Create new memories.”

“But I want to remember!”

“Trust me, you might not like what you find,” Mr. Flannigan said. “You might want to forget all over again. And Ponyboy? All of this goes to you too. Ghosts are dark and impure. It’s better to feign obliviousness. Stay safe. But I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more help. I’ll let you know if I remember anything about Castor though since it seems like you’re both still really adamant about learning more. Also, I’m here if you want to talk, Ponyboy, okay?”

The bell rang meaning that Ponyboy was going to be a few minutes late for his next class. But he still grinned excitedly, “Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Flannigan.”

He would definitely have to take that offer one day so he could understand his ability more.

Soon enough, lunch came by, and Ponyboy left for the lunchroom. Castor finally decided to explore the school to see if anything could jog a memory. That was when he saw Cherry by her locker. The two of them hadn’t really spoken much—or at all, really—after the court trial. Mostly, she would ignore him as they walked past each other in the hallways. He tried waving a few times, but she almost never waved back. But she knew most of everyone from the school and she was still nice.

He walked over, surprising her, judging by the look on her face. Marcia was there as well, he realized, waiving at him as soon as she saw him.

“Hey, Cherry and Marcia,” he greeted, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

“Hi,” Marcia greeted.

“Oh, hi, Ponyboy,” Cherry said. Luckily there wasn’t anyone else with them. “What’s going on?”

“I was wondering if you knew of a Castor? He would have died a bit ago? Maybe?”

Cherry’s lips pressed into a thin line and the two friends looked at each other. Marcia’s eyebrows were raised in surprise yet she was rubbing her arm in awkwardness.

“I’m guessing by that reaction, you knew him?” Ponyboy asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“We knew him,” Cherry answered solemnly. Marcia nodded in agreement. “He hung out with us from time to time.”

“He was sure a lot of fun,” Marcia added.

“Do you know—” Ponyboy started but didn’t get to finish his sentence. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around Cherry’s shoulders, and another guy joined them. He was tall and built strongly. His obsidian eyes were sharp as they stared Ponyboy down. The greaser took a step back, but it wasn’t because of the soc, it was because of what was around him. He was surrounded by the dark shadow of an extremely large ghost with eyes as large and bulging as bowls. Blood dripped down from them and into its mouth which was filled with large, jagged teeth. Its long arms were hugged around him.

“Why are you talking to that greaser?” the soc, who he recognized as Cherry’s new boyfriend, Peter, said. What was she doing with a character like that? Pony remembered when she told him that Bob had a side that he didn’t show. He wondered if it was the same with Peter, but the ghost latching onto him said otherwise. There was something dark about him.

“He was just asking if we knew Castor,” Cherry replied.

“Mallory,” Marcia offered when Peter paused. So, his name was Castor Mallory…

“Yeah, I know who he is,” Peter said, waiving her off. He glared at Ponyboy; his eyes as dark as the ghost that was latched to him. The ghost seemed to grow in intensity the more riled up he got. “What the hell, greaser? Why do you want to know about him?”

“I was just wondering,” Ponyboy managed to stammer out, taking another step back. The ghost crawled closer to him, eyes spinning around like globes. His knees were shaking, and he wished that Castor was there with him. Ponyboy slid his hands into his pockets to hide the trembling.

“UPSET! UPSET!” the ghost chanted. “STAY AWAY!”

“Stay out of it, if you know what’s good for you,” Peter growled. This was the second time he heard this. Both were warnings but on different sides of a spectrum. Why was he getting so weird about it? He pulled at Cherry, “Come on.”

“Sorry, Ponyboy,” Cherry apologized as she was dragged away, leaving Ponyboy alone with so many questions. The whole interaction was so weird. Why was a ghost hanging around him too? It reminded him of the first ghost he saw. He scratched at his head.

Anyway… Castor Mallory. He finally had a good lead.

Chapter 8: This Was In

Chapter Text

“Castor Mullings… Castor Mullings,” Castor tested the name on his tongue when the two of them met back up, humming with his hand on his chin. “Mullings… Man, I really don’t remember anything.”

Ponyboy sighed. He didn’t think the last name would reveal anything, but it was worth a shot. If any case, though, they were a step closer than they were an hour ago. They had an idea of where to look and who to look for.

“I was wondering,” Ponyboy began, adjusting the strap on his bag. “If you’re able to go through walls and all that stuff, wouldn’t you be able to look for your records here and at the police station? They probably have you filed somewhere.”

“I mean, I can give it a try. I can’t touch anything. Seems pretty crucial to this operation,” Castor replied. “There’s only so much a wayward spirit like me can do.”

“We should probably work on that.” Ponyboy decided to ignore the dramatic quip. He was probably going to regret this offer soon too. It would give the ghost more opportunities to mess with him. He halfheartedly chuckled to himself as he thought about all the randomly floating objects that he would have to hide. Oh man, he was going to look crazier than he already did.

“Seriously? You’re going to help me?” Castor’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Ponyboy nodded.

“We should still try to find more information about you while we can. I’ll go to the library to see if I can find anything. If I can’t find anything in the school library, I’ll go to the public one. You’ll check out school records and police records. We can regroup afterward.”

“Splitting up already? Are you trying to get rid of me? I thought we were friends.”

“We aren’t friends,” Ponyboy declared.

“Don’t say that. I watched you sleep. How many people could say they did that?”

“That’s creepy, not friendly. Besides, I know you also don’t consider me a friend anyway.”

Castor dramatically placed a hand on his chest and wiped away his crocodile tears. “I’m hurt by your words, Lil’ Grease. Truly.”

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

That’s where Ponyboy found himself. When school ended, Ponyboy first headed over to the school library to see if he could find anything. However, there really wasn’t anything there and the librarian wanted to go home herself. So, Ponyboy quickly went over to the public library to continue his search, carefully avoiding any ghosts along the way. Just like they had planned, Castor already left to find records of himself.

When he arrived at the library, he headed straight to the librarian and told her that he wanted to read some old newspapers and where he could find them. She showed him where he could find them in the archives and Ponyboy picked up some rolls of films to start off with. This was going to take a while, he realized.

The librarian then told him how to use the microfilm reader, a machine that Ponyboy never had the chance to use yet. When she left, he started to scroll through the film, the picture of the newspaper popping up in front of his face. He skimmed through the entries, trying to find which one Castor was mentioned in, if he was at all. He started with the current year, not sure what year he passed away in. Right from the get-go, he found a problem.

He had thought that, if Castor’s death was publicized in the newspaper, his picture would be printed somewhere. However, since there had been so many disappearances and deaths lately, the pages were covered in faces. There were even more than he thought there were, almost done routinely by the killer. Each face stared back at him, smiling, but he knew that they were scared to death before they died. Most of them were around his age and some were adults. There weren’t many young kids though. So that was slightly good news.

There were so many disappearances and deaths that it was a wonder how the police hadn’t caught the guy already. Surely, they had some clue. This was crazy! How could they leave a mass murderer running amok? There were hardly any preventative measures to keep citizens safe.

He went through the microfilms he brought up, not finding Castor’s name in them. He let out a sigh and left to grab some more to look at.

Ponyboy entered the archives again. It was creepy before, now even more so because he was alone. He walked down, remembering where the librarian showed him where they were found. Picking some from drawers and shelves. He grabbed one in particular and lifted it from the shelf, only to be met with a giant eye looking straight at him from the other side. Ponyboy felt his blood run cold and his body stiffened automatically. His hands clenched tightly around the microfilm case.

“PEEK A BOO. I SEE YOU,” the ghost laughed. “DO YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH ME?”

No. He absolutely did not. He moved to try to leave the archives, anxiety causing his skin to prickle with goosebumps and the hairs on his arms to rise.

“I think I got everything I need,” Ponyboy said to himself, voice cracking. He tucked the last microfilm case under his arm and quickly tried to walk to the stairs.

“WHAT ABOUT OUR GAME? DON’T LEAVE ME. DON’T BE A SORE LOSER. PLAY WITH ME,” the ghost wailed. Ponyboy walked even faster. The archives seemed to stretch endlessly; the stairs were getting further away the closer he got to them. He cursed in his head. “I SAID DON’T LEAVE ME!”

Suddenly, contents on the shelves were being thrown off one after the other towards him at a fast rate. Ponyboy yelped, almost jumping out of his shoes.

“You’re kidding,” Ponyboy couldn’t help but say. The ghost could move objects? So easily too. This one was trying to harm him, and Castor wasn’t there to help him. He was so shocked that he almost forgot that he said a sentence that would blow his cover. Should he stay and get hit by an object? Would that look the most natural?

No, he definitely should not do that. That was dumb. That thing was trying to harm him and even people who couldn’t see ghosts would be running away with their tails between their legs.

Ponyboy took off running, slowed down by the microfilms he was carrying.

“COME BACK AND PLAY!”

Ponyboy finally made it to the stairs, bounding up them like a prancing deer—multiple steps at a time. Then, right before he reached the door, it slammed shut in front of him, nearly taking off his nose.

“TAG. WE CAN PLAY TAG.”

The voice was closer and Ponyboy was almost too scared to look over his shoulder. When he did, standing on top of the mess it made, was a large ghost. Its body was shaped as if a kid had tried to make a giant worm out of Play-Doh. Littered across its body were dozens of eyes and hundreds of small legs like a millipede. Each movement of its legs clicked on the tile.

Ponyboy fumbled with the door, hands moving so fast that they became too clumsy. The microfilms fell by his feet. He whimpered, his heart hammering against his chest.

Come on, he pleaded.

Finally, he managed to open the door. He threw it open and almost left without the microfilms. He scrambled to pick them all up, dropping some like a repetitive cycle. The ghost lunged at him at that moment and Ponyboy just said screw it to some of the microfilms he had dropped. He left, slamming the door behind him to put a wall between him and the ghost, not that it would stop it. He didn’t wait to find out.

When he burst back into the library section, all eyes fell on him. He was panting heavily, covered in sweat, had eyes as big as plates, and was looking like he was damn near tears. The ghost hadn’t followed him up, much to his relief.

Clearing his throat, Ponyboy walked back to his table, looking like he was about to drop dead. Safe. He was safe. He crashed in his seat even though the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins gave him enough energy to sprint a marathon and made it hard to concentrate. His head was whirling, but he tried his best to focus on the task at hand.

Again, he went through the same process as he did before. Article after article he read through, and picture after picture of missing teens he encountered. Finally, after searching for quite some time, he found something. He had almost missed it, having gotten used to the same type of entry for so long. He jolted when he saw the ghost’s name, slamming his finger on the words.

CASTOR MULLINGS, 16, MISSING

ON JUNE 5^TH AT 10:45 P.M., MULLINGS WENT OUT TO WATCH A MOVIE WITH FRIENDS AT THE CIRCLE CINEMA ON SOUTH LEWIS AVENUE. FRIENDS STATE HE WAS ACTING STRANGE MOMENTS BEFORE HE RAN OFF INTENDING TO GET HOME. IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARD, THE GROUP DECIDED TO GO HOME. MULLINGS NEVER RETURNED HOME HIMSELF AND WAS NEVER SEEN OR HEARD FROM SINCE.

Right above the page was a blown-up picture of Castor’s face. In it, he was smiling so brightly that it was blinding. It was different than what he saw with the ghost. Sure, he was genuinely a smiley type of guy, but his eyes were duller now. But there was only enough happiness a guy with no memories can radiate. Ponyboy ran his finger over Castor’s face, feeling a pit in his stomach. He found another entry and started to read.

AS OF JUNE 21, CASTOR MULLINGS HAS YET TO BE FOUND.

Then another.

DEAD BODY FOUND IN THE ARKANSAS RIVER NEAR THE 11^TH STREET BRIDGE BY A LOCAL, WHO WISHES TO REMAIN ANONYMOUS, WALKING HER DOG. IT IS PRESUMED TO BE THE BODY OF THE MISSING CASTOR MILLINGS.

“IT WAS HORRIBLE,” SHE DESCRIBED. “ONE MOMENT MY DOG AND I ARE HAVING FUN AND THE NEXT THING I KNEW HE CAUGHT A SCENT AND DRAGGED ME OVER WITH HIM. WHEN I SAW IT, I FELT MY STOMACH DROP. IT REALLY PUTS IN PERSPECTIVE HOW DANGEROUS OUR TOWN HAS GOTTEN. THERE ARE CHILDREN RUNNING AROUND. WHAT IF THEY’RE NEXT?”

FURTHER AUTOPSY WILL PROVIDE MORE INFORMATION.

And then another.

CASTOR MULLINGS COMMITS SUICIDE AT AGE 16.

INVESTIGATORS SAY THAT IT IS LIKELY THAT CASTOR MULLINGS TOOK HIS OWN LIFE BY JUMPING FROM THE 11^TH STREET BRIDGE. AN AUTOPSY FOUND A BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA ON THE BACK OF HIS HEAD WHICH IS BELIEVED TO BE FROM HIS HEAD IMPACTING WITH A ROCK IN THE ARKANSAS RIVER. A BLOOD TEST FURTHER REVEALS A SPIKE OF ALCOHOL AND DRUGS IN HIS SYSTEM. MULLINGS CORPSE ALSO HAD SIGNS OF STRANGULATION, WHICH INVESTIGATORS BELIEVED WERE FROM HIM ATTEMPTING TO HANG HIMSELF UNDER THE BRIDGE. NO ROPE WAS FOUND BUT IT MOST LIKELY FELL AND FLOATED DOWN THE RIVER.

There were other articles regarding Castor, but Ponyboy felt too sick to his stomach to read anything else. He stood up and swung his bag over his shoulder. He didn’t bother with putting anything back, not wanting to return to the archives and face that ghost again. He felt terrible having to make that decision because the librarians hadn’t been anything but sweet to him. They were probably not going to like him after this. He probably wouldn’t be able to come back for a while.

He quickly left the library with his head low. He realized after walking in a random direction for a few minutes that he didn’t know where he was supposed to meet back up with Castor. So, instead, he decided to head home and hope that the ghost would be able to find his way back to his house.

When he got there, he found Castor in his bedroom waiting for him. He was in the middle of trying to push a pencil off of his desk and failing each time.

“You’re finally back,” Castor said, groaning in boredom.

“I got caught up with something along the way,” Ponyboy said. He actually got caught in a lot of things. Castor looked at him closer, noticing that his skin was still pale from the ghost encounter.

“You look like you saw a ghost.” Castor chuckled. Ponyboy pressed his lips tightly together and that was when the spirit put the pieces together. “Oh, sh*t, man. Did you really?”

“I saw a lot, but there was this one at the library that spooked me. It was massive.”

Castor opened his mouth as if to ask him if he was okay, but he closed it, thinking against it. “Did you find anything?”

Tiredly, Ponyboy nodded. His eyes glazed over as he remembered his findings. “You didn’t have a peaceful death, I don’t think.”

“What… What do you mean?” His face dropped. When Ponyboy hesitated to tell him, he pushed, “Come on, tell me!”

“I managed to find articles about you in old newspapers. You went missing and then your body was found in the water under a bridge. Some people think you were killed; others think you committed suicide.”

There were thousands of different ways people could die. Castor, however, never thought those two possibilities would be what it was brought down to. Although he woke up without any memories, he always assumed that he died in an accident like a car crash. He closed his eyes and saw a white vehicle with a license plate that he didn’t have enough time to read. The sudden feeling of immense fear washed over him as flashes of him running in the dark came to mind. The last thing he felt was a scream rip through his throat.

He threw his head back. A damn murder mystery he got himself wrapped up in. It could have been suicide too, but he couldn’t think of any reason for him to do that to himself and there was no way those flashes of memories ended in him taking his life.

His poor parents were probably heartbroken when they were told the news of his death. They were probably hoping that he would have popped up after being missing for so long. At least his body was found though and his parents didn’t have to bury an empty casket.

“I think someone killed me,” Castor said, running his fingers through his hair. “But why? Why would anyone want to kill me?”

Perhaps he saw something that he wasn’t supposed to or pissed someone off so much that they went after him. Ponyboy shook his head and spoke, “There might not be a reason. Some people are sick.”

“Who could have done it? Did the articles say anything about that?”

Again, Ponyboy shook his head. “Nothing. Investigators concluded that you committed suicide. The case was dropped. But… there’s something that I haven’t gotten the chance of telling you yet.”

“What is it?”

“The article said that you were last seen with friends and were acting strange. The group didn’t stick around long when you left in a hurry.”

Castor’s full attention was on him now, connecting the pieces with Ponyboy. “Are you saying that you think one of my friends did it?”

“That’s not all,” Ponyboy continued with a brief nod. “When I was talking with Cherry, Marcia, and Peter, they acted weird when I asked them about you. They said you hung out with them from time to time. I think it was them that you were with last. Besides that, Peter was acting strange. He got defensive and there was a ghost latched onto him like some bodyguard. There is something not right about him.”

It was just a suspicion. Nothing was set in stone. Castor left the outing in a hurry after drinking and doing some drugs with friends. His intoxication was probably why he had been acting strange. The group dispersed and Peter followed him and killed him by strangulation. To hide the body, Peter pushed Castor off the bridge to stage it as a suicide. It would have worked too. All he had to do was tell investigators that Castor had been dealing with depression and finally cracked. They would believe him.

Following those events, most of everything was revealed.

Castor’s eyes were dark. “Peter, huh?”

“It’s just a hypothesis. We can’t point fingers yet.” Because what if he was completely off the mark?

“I swear if he did this to me—”

“What are you going to do? Make him feel cold?”

“I’m going to haunt the living sh*t out of him.”

If it was a murder case, this situation got a lot more dangerous. It wasn’t simple anymore where all they had to do was pass a message along. Ponyboy had a feeling that Castor won’t move on just by that anymore. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to pursue the killer.

“What did you find?” Ponyboy asked. “Any luck?”

“As I said before,” Castor started, rolling his eyes. “I can’t do much of anything without being able to touch something.”

So, his going was useless. Ponyboy sighed. Well, at least he was able to find something, and hopefully, it would be enough to get Castor to move on. He rubbed his temples. “Since we know your name, we can probably find your parents and give them a message. What would you like to tell them anyway?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I miss them and love them? Not sure.”

“It’ll come to you, I’m sure. Just say stuff from your heart.”

“That’s so cheesy,” Castor chuckled. But it was what he knew he had to do. What would he even say to them? He didn’t have any memories and rarely ever had the opportunity to feel emotions. Even if he did, the words would have to go through Ponyboy’s mouth, and he was probably going to sound crazy. He just had to hope that they would give Pony the chance to speak.

He would do anything to see them again and to remember what they looked like and sounded like. He wished he would be able to feel the warmth permeating from their skin and to have them comfort him by telling him that everything was going to be alright. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He lost that chance when he died. His friends too. He wanted to know what type of people he hung out with. Did he have a lot of friends? He knew Peter was supposedly his friend and Marcia and Cherry were too. But then again, Ponyboy said he hung out with them from time to time, so he either had another group he hung out with, or he was a loner.

“So how are we going to find them?” Castor asked.

“We can try a phone book,” Ponyboy suggested after thinking about it for a few seconds. “How many Mullings could there be in Tulsa? And then after that, hopefully, you’ll be able to move on.”

Ponyboy couldn’t wait for this to happen… right? The ghost would be gone, and he wouldn’t have to worry about getting in another murder rap. Their time together was short, and he was just starting to get used to his presence. He hated to admit it, but Ponyboy might even miss his company a bit. Castor had a way of filling an empty hole. The house didn’t feel so empty with him in there. It made it easier to go home.

Whatever. He shouldn’t get attached to a ghost anyway. Once this was over, Ponyboy can finally go back to ignoring ghosts, minus Johnny and Dally.

Chapter 9: Use the Force, Castor

Chapter Text

There weren’t many Mullings in Tulsa, just as Ponyboy had predicted. There were only a few possibilities to choose from. He had decided to call the next day so that he wouldn’t be contacting them so late in the evening. During that time, he also tried to think of how he would start the conversation regarding Castor, but it was really hard to come up with something that sounded relatively normal. Since then, he had already called every Mulling contact in the phone book except for one, each one was unsuccessful. He started to doubt himself about halfway through the short list, thinking it was going to be a thumbs down on the lead.

Ponyboy frowned as he spun the phone number in. Castor placed his ear next to his to listen in on the conversation, making him shift an inch away. When it started to ring, Ponyboy felt more and more anxious with each interval. He sort of hoped that they wouldn’t pick up since he didn’t know what to say after he ask if they knew Castor. He probably should have written a script beforehand because of that and because Castor probably wouldn’t have his message put together by the time they answer. His palm became sweaty. He almost hung up to write a script but stuck through it and prayed that his improv skills were good enough.

How would he even start?

‘Hello, you might not believe me but everything I’m about to say to you is true. I can see your dead son’s ghost, but he doesn’t remember you. He wanted to leave you a message though so he can move on.’

That sounded like he was crazy! Veto! Veto! Veto!

Little did he know then, however, that was exactly how the interaction was going to go.

“What would I even say to them?” Ponyboy asked Castor.

“Tell them that I love them and miss them and that I want to see them again,” Castor replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Okay, fine. But… “What if they don’t want to listen to me?”

“I’m sure they will.” Castor frowned with uncertainty. His brows knitted together. “I’m their son. They’ll listen if it’s about me.”

“You’re a son who’s been dead for months now,” the greaser clarified. “They might not want someone to remind them of you. You’re always going to be a sore subject now.”

“But we have to try.”

Ponyboy solemnly nodded. “I know, but it might blow up in our faces.”

Suddenly, the ringing stopped, and a voice came from the other end, “Hello? Who is this?”

It was an elderly man. He sounded like he was probably in his sixties (it was hard to tell). His voice was rough and sounded like gravel, yet there was still a smooth, honey-like undertone to it. Hearing it, Castor’s body stiffened. Ponyboy took a glance at him and saw his eyes had widened and his mouth had parted. Ponyboy cleared his throat and dampened his lips with his tongue before he greeted, “Hello. I’m Ponyboy.”

“Ponyboy? I don’t know a Ponyboy. Are you sure you have the right number?”

Christ, he hoped that he had the right number, or this was going to get awkward.

“No,” Ponyboy said, saying that the man both didn’t know him and that he didn’t know if he had the correct number or not. “I knew your son though.”

On the other end, he could hear the man’s breath hitched. He whispered to someone else—probably his wife—to come over and briefly explained the call to them. He must have passed the phone over since a woman’s voice shrilled into his ear next, causing him to cringe and move away from the phone for a second or two.

“Who is this? How do you know our son?” she demanded.

“Well…” Ponyboy stretched out. “I recently met him.”

Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say because her voice’s pitch raised. “HUUUH?! How could you have recently met him?! Are you playing a prank on us?!”

Ponyboy’s eyes widened. “What? No!”

But she didn’t listen. “Is this some cruel, sick joke? HOW DARE YOU IF IT IS.”

“No, no, no! I promise you that I’m not making a joke. You see…” Ponyboy hesitated. “I’m a psychic medium and I can see ghosts. I recently bumped into a Castor Mullings, and he wanted me to give messages to his loved ones so he can rest in peace. He’s actually here with me now.”

There was another pause and Pony almost believed that they would listen to him. Almost. But, of course, he could never get let off that easily. Mrs. Mullings scoffed. If they were speaking in person, he was sure that she would have grabbed him by the hair and ripped it out in chunks. “WHAT DID I JUST SAY?! DON’T JOKE WITH US. WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE US ALONE?! HE’S DEAD! HE’S DEAD! He’s dead… He’s dead…”

Her last few words were cracked and muffled by her sobs. Ponyboy felt his skin prick and his heart sink listening to it.

“Mom…” Castor whimpered. He wished he could go through the phone to her.

The phone was passed off again and Ponyboy could hear her crying voice in the distance now, wailing, “MY SON! HOW COULD ANYONE DO THIS?!”

“Look at what you did!” Mr. Mullings spat. “Are you satisfied now?”

“Sir, please listen—” Ponyboy started but was cut off.

“No, you listen! I don’t know what we did for you to harass us, but don’t call this number again! You’re sick! You hear me?!”

“Sir—”

But Ponyboy wasn’t able to get another word out before Mr. Mullings hung up. Ponyboy’s grip around the phone was white. He robotically hung up, energy instantly sapped from the interaction. Castor was silent next to him. His shoulders were slouched, and his apparition flickered.

“Sorry, Castor,” Ponyboy apologized.

“You tried your best,” Castor murmured with a loud sigh, disappointed that his parents didn’t even want to give Ponybot a chance to speak. At least he got to hear what they sounded like again. But that didn’t make anything better. If anything, he felt like he was missing more. What was he supposed to do now? He wondered, hopelessly. Was he ever going to find peace now? Would his parents? Again, he flickererd.

Seeing the lost expression on his face, Ponyboy spoke up, “Maybe we can find another way to move on.”

“I can’t think of another way,” Castor croaked. “If my friends don’t want to talk about me and my parents won’t even let anyone say my name near them, how are we going to do it? It’s all over.”

That was a question that Ponyboy couldn’t answer. He chewed on his bottom lip. “We’ll figure it out.”

“What if it gets to a point where I can never come back? I don’t want to turn into those other ghosts.”

Ponyboy turned to fully face his ghost companion. His hands reached out to grab Castor’s arms, but they dropped when he remembered that he couldn’t. Instead, he looked straight into his eyes, unbreaking their contact. “We won’t let that happen.”

Castor moved away, crossing his arms. He huffed. “No offense, but I don’t think there’s anything else you can do to help me.”

Ponyboy didn’t think so either. This could have been his way out. No more trouble. All he had to do was agree. But he took another look at Castor and felt pity. Christ, what was wrong with him?

He couldn’t help it. Castor must have hated that he couldn’t reach his parents and must miss them dearly. Ponyboy knew that feeling more than most people. He was also separated from his parents by the veil between the living and the dead. It might have even been worse for Castor. In Ponyboy’s case, he could only assume his parents had moved on. And even if they hadn’t, he would still be able to speak to them. For Castor, he could see them but could never interact. It must have been torture. So sue him for being more sympathetic. Ponyboy scratched the back of his neck. “Look, we’ll find something that will work. Maybe for you to pass on, you need to set your story straight since your death was publicized as a suicide. We can try to deliver your message too while we’re at it.”

Castor’s eyes widened when he said that, breath hitching. Bewilderment was blown up on his face. This greaser was willing to stick with him? Castor knew that he wasn’t acting all that great towards Pony, so this was surprising to him. He was fully preparing himself to leave because if they continued, it could be a lot more dangerous. But Ponyboy was trying his best for him, even if he won’t gain anything in the end. For a moment, he felt warmth fill his chest. Castor pointed to himself. “You… You really want to help me? You don’t have to, you know.”

“Who else is going to but me? You’re stuck with me too.”

Castor’s lips twitched into a smile. “You’re seriously a lot better guy than I thought.”

Ponyboy smiled back at him, a warm, comforting expression that could melt worries. “Now, why don’t I help you move objects? I think that would bring your mood back up.”

“How are you going to do that?” Castor looked surprised and suddenly doubtful. “You’re alive.”

How would he be able to? Ponyboy had no idea, but he also was going through the dark this entire time. So, he admitted, “I don’t know. But wouldn’t it be easier to figure this out together instead of alone?”

Yeah, he said that but… Ponyboy didn’t expect that he would need a doctorate in patience to be able to get through it. It wasn’t because of Castor himself. No. It was because nothing was happening. For the past few hours, the ghost had been trying to push a pencil off of his desk. It was so close to the edge that even a slight breeze would be able to do the trick.

Each time he tried, his fingers passed through the wood and graphite. Castor was ferociously chewing on the insides of his cheeks, fingers shaking as he tried over and over again. He was so close to giving up.

“Concentrate,” Ponyboy pressed.

“I am!” Castor growled. “I just can’t seem to touch it!”

“But don’t you touch other things? What do you usually do when you walk or sit?”

“I don’t actually touch surfaces. I hover.”

“What? Really?” Ponyboy asked incredulously, bending over to take a look. Sure enough, Castor was hovering a few millimeters from the ground. Ponyboy’s mouth turned into an O as he got back up. “Golly, you weren’t kidding. Why do I see you walk then? Why don’t you just fly everywhere?”

Castor shrugged and continued his attempts of moving the pencil. Ponyboy continued, “Hey, what were you feeling before when you managed to touch me? Maybe we can recreate the feeling.”

Again, the ghost shrugged. “I guess I was just concerned, is all. What does that have to do with moving objects?”

“Maybe your ability is based on emotions,” Ponyboy hypothesized, awkwardly rubbing his arm. “Anger, concern, sorrow, happiness. Maybe by… erm… harnessing these emotions will you be able to do something.”

He had no idea what he was talking about. Ponyboy’s ears turned red from embarrassment, but luckily, Castor didn’t tease him about how ridiculously put together his sentence was. Instead, he hummed, “How could I do that if the emotion I mostly feel is regret?”

“Maybe that’s just it though. It’s something that’s difficult for you to do. It seems like most ghosts can’t do it either, from what you said. And, think about it, it’s the only thing that makes sense so far. What else could have happened at the playground?”

“I get that,” Castor whined. “But how do I feel something when I don’t remember how it feels?”

Ponyboy leaned back in his bed. He sighed. “That’s another question we need to figure out, isn’t it?”

The ghost kept trying, but everything was useless. Castor’s face was scrunched together as he tried to force himself to feel something. He tried to remember exactly what he was thinking about during that one time, but it just wasn’t the same now that he wasn’t in the moment.

“This isn’t working,” Castor admitted. Ponyboy leaned forward this time to observe closer. He supposed he could help. The emotion, anger, was easy to provoke, but, thinking about it more, maybe it wasn’t the right way to do it. When he first met Castor, he caused the room to shake when he felt lost. The ghost in the library started to fling items from shelves when it was angry. In both incidences, they didn’t touch anything though. The items seemed to move themselves. What they were looking for was different.

“Maybe try imagining what the pencil is supposed to feel like?” Ponyboy suggested. He reached forward, hand going numb as he passed through Castor’s. His fingers were just barely touching the surface of the pencil. He poked at it, almost letting it fall off the desk before dragging it back on. “The red cedar is carved in a crisp hexagonal shape that’s designed to rest snugly between finger and thumb. It’s complete and free of nicks, perfectly glossed and painted.”

Castor blinked at him incredulously. “Where the heck did that come from?”

Pony shrugged. “Just helping you visualize.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if that helped me even a bit.” Castor looked at Ponyboy’s hand, which was still poking at the pencil. Although barely, he could still feel the brief contact between the two of them from before. It had been both electrifying and warm, but it was a feeling, nonetheless. He drummed his fingers in the air before he nonchalantly turned his hand around and wrapped it around Ponyboy’s.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected much. He just thought he would give it a shot because he desperately wanted human contact. He thought nothing was going to happen, but something did. His eyes widened slightly when that electrifying feeling returned, shooting up his arm. His fingers pressed into Ponyboy’s hands—so slender and soft yet calloused around the ring finger. He watched with fascination as skin shifted around them. His palms burned where they touched, almost forcing him to pull away but he held tight. He did not want the small moment to be wasted.

Both were staring at their intertwined hands for different reasons. Castor was quickly growing addicted to the feeling of human contact and was memorizing it as best as he could. Ponyboy, on the other hand, instantly became flustered. Out of everything that Castor could have picked to touch, why him? He pulled their hands apart, head spinning.

“Oh,” Castor said with a sheepish grin. He didn’t even try to apologize. His hands twitched, wanting more human contact. “I couldn’t visualize what a pencil feels like, but I remember the contact at the park. Don’t get too flustered over it.”

“I see,” Ponyboy muttered, rubbing his hand where Castor touched. He wanted to turn away but smiled, trying to push how awkward he felt away because there was something more important than that. “You did it though!”

Castor beamed at the praise. It just now hit him. “I did!”

“Now all we have to do is practice and hope we can use other objects that aren’t my hands.”

“I got this, Lil’ Grease. Don’t worry, man. I’m an expert now.”

“Really?” Ponyboy snorted. “Why don’t you try the pencil again.”

“Watch and learn.” Rolling up his sleeves, Castor tried to move the pencil. But, once, again, his hand fazed through. Both of them sighed. It looked like he still had a long way to go.

Chapter 10: Touch Starved Ghost

Chapter Text

Eventually, Castor started to get better at moving objects. He practiced all night, letting Ponyboy rest without worrying that he was going to be watched all night. Moving objects was something to get his mind off of everything. By the time Ponyboy woke up, Castor was able to sometimes lift small objects, and on the times he was able to, he could only do so for a few seconds. The ghost was beaming proudly, showing off his newly acquired skill that made Ponyboy both amazed and horrified at the same time. Try being on guard all day and looking for random, “floating” objects. But there were other moments when the moving object ability turned out great. Take this moment, for example.

The gang was all playing poker together. Ponyboy was never really good at that game, and nobody would ever tell him what he was doing wrong. He could only assume that he didn’t have the best poker face or wasn’t the best at cheating. His attempts were almost laughable. Even Castor couldn’t help but exhale loudly from his nose when he saw his hand.

“Wow,” Castor chuckled, dragging the word out in a mocking manner. Ponyboy side-eyed him. “You’re not really good at this.”

When Ponyboy made no effort to respond to him, he pointed at his hand and continued, “I mean, look at your cards. I don’t know if you’re playing by the rules or are just that bad.”

Ponyboy looked over his cards towards the gang. Castor followed his eyes, tapping his fingers against Pony’s shoulders. Ever since he was able to touch objects, he had been pretty touchy—always craving physical contact. The spot where their bodies touched burned, making it hard to concentrate on the game at hand. Not that it would matter anyway. He was going to lose no matter what happened. Each tap of the finger on his shoulder sent small bolts of electricity through him.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter too much,” Castor mused. “They’re cheating, you know.”

Of course, Ponyboy knew. How could he not? The gang wasn’t the greatest at hiding it. He watched as Soda (who probably thought no one noticed) slipped a card into his shoe.

“Let me help you,” Castor went on to say. “As thanks for helping me.”

Ponyboy gave him a what-are-you-planning-on-doing look, but he didn’t have to wait too long before he found out. Castor glided around the table, taking a close look at each of their hands. With each one, he made reactive faces, but Ponyboy knew that it was just a play to mess with him. Once he had his fun, he started to pull a card from Steve’s back pocket. It inched out little by little until it was finally free. Castor bit his tongue as he shakily maneuvered it around the table. Ponyboy cleared his throat to temporarily bring the attention of the gang away from the mysteriously flying card. The distraction was short, but it was enough time for Castor to stabilize everything and bring it over to him, staying as low as possible.

He slipped the card into Ponyboy’s back pocket, pointed to a card, and held out his hand. The greaser took a quick look at the gang who were one by one putting in bets. While they were doing that, he placed a card from his hand into Castor’s and slipped the one from his pocket in as a replacement. Briefly, their hands glided against each other, sending electric shocks down his spine. He then watched the ghost put his discarded card in Steve’s pocket.

It went like that—Castor traded Ponyboy’s cards with that of the gang. While they were playing, both of them watched as the gang tried to use their cheat, only to find it was a completely different card than before. Their eyebrows knitted, eyes flashing panic, but they were quick to reapply their poker face. At that point, Ponyboy didn’t even care if he won or not. Just seeing their expressions was enough for him. He almost laughed. He tried not to make a face, but he was a pretty expressive person in general. He was sure he at least looked somewhat smug. This went on until the final bit of the game.

They started to reveal their cards with tight faces. Their hands weren’t good. At most, they got a two pair. Then it came down to Ponyboy’s turn. He didn’t hesitate to slap the cards onto the table, brandishing them like it was as much of a spectacle as King Tut’s coffin.

“A straight flush?” Steve blurted, blinking heavily as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. “You won? How could you win?”

“I guess the cards I needed just seemed to float to me,” Ponyboy said, unable to hide the grin anymore.

Soda beamed at him, grinning from ear to ear. He cheered, “Nice, Pony!”

“Yeah, nice going!” Two-Bit chirped in, slapping his hand on Ponyboy’s shoulder. A small smile lifted the corners of Darry’s lips as he gathered all the cards into a stack.

Steve bent forward to get a closer look at his cards. His eyes narrowed and he jabbed his finger at one of them. “Hey! This card was mine!”

The gang all took a look Ponyboy’s hand, recognizing the cards they had hidden away. Their mouths dropped open, wondering how the heck he managed to find and take all of their cards without them noticing. He never left his seat once throughout the entire game. Ponyboy even went through the trouble of replacing the cards.

“These cards are clearly in front of me,” Ponyboy shot back.

“You stole it from me,” Steve argued.

“You have all of your cards though. Are you admitting you were cheating?”

It was a challenge that Steve had to take a few steps back from. Ponyboy had set a trap for him, and he wasn’t about to walk into it. Diverting the conversation, he grumbled, “Whatever, it must have been some dumb luck.”

“That was amazing,” Soda complimented again when Steve sat back in his seat. “How’d you do it? My card’s there too.”

Soda had no issue in admitting that he was cheating. Ponyboy pointed at his head, whispering as if it was a huge secret, “I’m psychic.”

“This again,” Darry groaned. “Knock it off.”

“I can prove it to you,” Ponyboy hurriedly said. “I can guess what card you’re holding up.”

“Alright.” Darry leafed through the deck and held one up. Castor slipped behind him and looked at the card. “What card is this? Tell me, if you’re psychic.”

Ponyboy looked at Castor who was acting out the cards like he would in the game charades. He made his hands into a heart and tried to twist his body into a letter. Ponyboy deadpanned.

Just say the name! Nobody could hear you!

Realizing this at that time, Castor sheepishly called out, “Queen of hearts!”

“Queen of hearts,” Ponyboy repeated. Raising an eyebrow, Darry grabbed another one. Again, he repeated what the ghost said. “Four of spades.”

Two-Bit whistled. Steve’s lips twitched. This time, it was he who grabbed a card. He held his hand over the back. “I bet these cards were marked. What one is this?”

“A joker.”

The gang was all baffled. Ponyboy even got that card without hesitation. Their minds were whirling, trying to figure out how he was doing that. There had to be some trick to it. He wasn’t actually psychic.

“But how did you move the cards?” Two-Bit wondered.

“Er…” Ponyboy hesitated. He shrugged, unable to think of a good excuse. “Sleight of hand?”

“Like we’re supposed to believe you learned these tricks overnight,” Steve snorted.

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. “I can too! I can probably even learn how to levitate objects if I wanted to.”

From behind them, Castor started to lift an object up and Ponyboy panicked. He didn’t mean that literally! The gang, noticing that he was looking past them, turned around and Ponyboy had a split second to decide what he was going to do next. He lunged at Castor (Soda and Two-Bit had to get out of the way), grabbing his wrists and pushing them down. He snatched the object which happened to be… a toaster?

“What happened?” Soda asked. He blinked. “When’d you grab the toaster?”

“Magic. Like I said, sleight of hand,” Ponyboy breathed, holding the object until his arms started to hurt.

“But that’s a toaster,” Darry enunciated.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But how did you do that?” Two-Bit asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ponyboy said again, placing the toaster on the table.

“I can make the objects float and amaze them,” Castor offered but that was probably a step too far for now.

Ponyboy’s lips twitched up. “I can’t reveal all my tricks. Anyway, I wanted to go on a walk before the rain.”

It made no sense, and everything was so sudden. His topic change was so out there that it gave all of them whiplash metaphorically. They were still too baffled to think clearly too. Ponyboy lightly shoved Castor forward, expecting his hands to go through him. It took a lot for him to touch something. Who would have thought he would let him push him? The ghost stumbled a few steps, laughing loudly.

“Wait, bring someone—“ Darry started, first to come around, but Ponyboy had already pushed Castor out the door and stepped out himself. Once they were a block away from the house, the two of them burst out in laughter. Ponyboy laughed so hard that his sides started to cramp and the sound of a nearby dog barking was drowned out. Tears were in his eyes which he quickly wiped away.

“Can you imagine if we took it a step further?” Castor cackled, his light laughter was like warm pulses.

“They would definitely have a heart attack,” Ponyboy giggled along. Oh man, he was glad that he left when he did. He didn’t know how much longer he could take without laughing. “Their faces were the best part. Think about what they would look like if they saw me levitating.”

“I know right!” Castor mimicked their faces, drawing even more laughter out of both of them. “See? It’s not all too bad having me stick around so much. But speaking of levitating, I want to try something with you.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Let’s fly.”

It took a moment for his words to process. When they did, Ponyboy stopped laughing and his smile dropped, twitching at the ends. “Huh?”

“Come on,” Castor begged. “I want to see how much I improved.”

“Yesterday, you were struggling to push a pencil. I don’t think you can make me fly unless Tinker Bell is with you.” No matter how you looked at it, there was an exponential difference in ability versus capability. Ponyboy would fall to his death and then both of them would be stuck in the same situation, except he would be known as the pancake ghost.

But Castor was determined. “I know I can do it. You just have to believe in me.”

Ponyboy rapidly shook his head. “No.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“No!”

Castor threw his hands up. “Why not?”

“I’ll fall!” Wasn’t that obvious? He was curious about flying like the next guy, but his doubt of Castor’s prowess was too strong.

“It’ll be fine,” Castor urged, pushing Ponyboy forward. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Castor, wait.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

“Wait!” Before Ponyboy could deny him any further, he felt arms loop under his armpits. He let out an embarrassing yelp as his feet were lifted from the ground. He curled his legs up as he was lifted higher and higher. The dog from the nearby house barked and barked, watching as they went up and over houses. Ponyboy had to kick off from one of the roofs to avoid hitting it. “Castor!”

The ghost laughed above him, To him, it seemed like everything was fine. They got higher and Ponyboy began to feel scared. He shut his eyes tightly, waiting for it to be over, but it wasn’t too long after when he heard Castor talk again.

“It’s alright. I got you,” he soothed. Ponyboy finally found the courage to peek open his eyes and felt nauseous looking down at Tulsa and all the ant-sized people. At least he hadn’t been dropped yet. Ponyboy imagined he would have probably died before he could hit the ground. “Uncurl yourself.”

Slowly, when Ponyboy felt that the ghost could in fact handle this, he uncurled himself. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his legs, so he started to walk in the air, feeling as if that was the most natural thing to do. Castor encouraged him to continue.

“Not so bad, right?” Castor asked. “Look around.”

And Ponyboy did. Cool, chilly air came rushing by, rippling his clothes. It kissed his nose, causing it to become runny, and it dried his eyes, causing him to become wide awake. His heart hammered from the adrenaline, knowing that it took one mistake for him to fall yet he was also safe. It was that risk that made him realize why people chased after thrills; why people skydived or went on rollercoasters.

It was starting to get dark and the lights of the city were turning on, completing a mosaic picture one tile at a time. From where he was, he could barely make out his grubby, little house that looked so insignificant compared to the highrise buildings in Tulsa. Ponyboy squinted his eyes, peering at the setting sun that caused the sky to split harshly into two colors. His breath caught in his throat.

“What do you think?” Castor asked, voice right next to his ear.

“This…” Ponyboy started, a smile running on his face. He kicked his legs more like a child being lifted up. It made him feel giddy. He spread out his fingers, feeling as the wind held his hands. He couldn’t help but say, “This is amazing, Castor!”

He turned his head to look at the ghost. Castor looked back at him with soft eyes, almost making him forget about the magnificent view around him.

Was this okay? Ponyboy wasn’t supposed to like Castor this much and enjoy their time together like this. The ghost had always been an annoying, entitled jerk. However, maybe he got that all wrong because, at that moment, Ponyboy couldn’t help but love their time together.

Eventually, they had to come down. Castor descended in search of an empty area to not get caught. Ponyboy wondered if anyone saw a random kid flying through the air and thought they were seeing things. But Golly. It was amazing how much Castor improved in such a short time. He was practically vibrating from all the excitement.

They managed to find an empty park and the ghost flew toward it.

“Wasn’t it fun?” Castor beamed as they went over.

“It was! It was a lot of fun,” Ponyboy laughed. He looked around to see how he was going to land himself. But something caught his eye. Since it was dark, it was hard to make out. It just looked like a dark mass at first. “Wait, what’s that?”

Castor brought them closer to the mysterious object and its details became clearer. It was this object that turned such a wonderful night dark. Ponyboy felt his heart stop.

Lying in the middle of the park was a dismembered human leg.

Chapter 11: What Now

Chapter Text

If someone were to ask Ponyboy if there was anything that could have turned his day from amazing to terrible, he wouldn’t have been able to think of anything. He was so filled with endorphins that he believed that the day was going to end on a high. However, it only took one unprecedented incident to make it apparent that his magical day was plummeting down at high speeds.

“A leg?” Ponyboy gasped. The world around him spun and Ponyboy dry heaved so hard that he almost vomited. All his blood was drained from his body in an instant. What in the world? Seriously, what the hell?! What the hell was a leg doing here? It was fresh too, judging by how the blood glistened in the dim lighting and how the smell wasn’t yet ghastly. Not even mold or parasites were on it.

What was he supposed to do? This was crazy! What was he supposed to feel? Feel helpless. Feel sad. Feel scared. Feel repulsed. Feel panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. PANIC. PANIC. PANIC. PANIC.

Jesus Christ!

What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? What now? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW?

WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO?!

Ponyboy’s nails curled into the soft earth. He wanted to scream louder than the voices in his head; wanted to claw out his eyeballs so he wouldn’t have to look at the thing. But that wouldn’t exempt him from the memories that were already carved into his brain. Vomit rose to his mouth that he quickly swallowed back down.

There was a severed leg there! You would have thought he would have reacted better to it after he had seen Bob’s dead body. Heck, this wasn’t even a full corpse. So why was he reacting like this? Why was his brain going blank yet still getting so loud?

He needed to get out of there; at least away from the severed limb, but his knees were too shaky and all he could do was paw at the soil. Then a chilling thought struck him. Where was the rest of it? He looked around. It was almost too dark to see anything, but surely, he would be able to make out any odd lumps on the ground. However, after a moment of searching, he didn’t find anything. It was just a regular, old, large park that had enough tree coverage to block most of the streetlights. There wasn’t much else there. The only notable objects that stuck out were an old, rusty swing set and the park’s sign. The ground was as flat as can be. There wasn’t even a random boulder there. With that being noted, why was there a leg there?

Why?

He gagged again and tried to stand up on shaky limbs. However, his foot sank into the ground, bringing him back down to his knees. He looked down to find better footing but froze. The ground was uneven. Unlike the particular spot he was kneeling at, the soil around the park was compacted and had some patch of grass on it. He frowned, patting down on the uneven part. In some places, the mud was piled higher. Nobody took the time to pat everything down. It was almost like there was a hole that was filled up in a hurry.

Oh, Christ…

“In the ground,” Ponyboy choked, his throat dryer than ever.

“What?” Castor asked, turning towards him. He was handling the situation a lot better than he was. It was probably because Castor was a ghost. He didn’t have the ability to feel sick to his stomach or feel adrenaline in his veins. He didn’t have to feel many emotions either, nor did he have to deal with the whiplash of seeing a physical corpse. There was still conflict on his face though, as if he was trying to decide how he was supposed to react to a situation like this.

“In the ground. There’s a… There’s a…” Ponyboy didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence when Castor’s head disappeared into the ground, but it was only that that went under.

Suddenly, he shot out, eyes wild and panicked. “Body. Holy sh*t, there’s a body near the surface. Why did you let me look?! Jesus, Ponyboy!”

“Why did you even look in the first place?!” Ponyboy shot back, voice cracking. Seriously, why was he suddenly the one that was freaking out more? It wasn’t like he truly felt shocked or something.

“I don’t know!”

They were both panicking and not thinking clearly. Castor might have been freaking out more than him. But maybe not. He might have been reflecting Ponyboy’s panic. Castor shrieked, “What do we do?!”

Ponyboy had already been in a murder rap before. However, this was different. He wasn’t involved in the murder in any way this time. This was a random body that they found. Still, if he took anything from that first experience: cops should get involved as soon as possible. Running away only caused trouble. He rubbed his muddy hands over his face. “We need to call the cops.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Castor was flabbergasted. “Then you’ll be framed for murder.”

“It’ll be fine. They’ll investigate it.”

“Ponyboy, they’re going to blame you, and you know it, especially with your past.”

Ponyboy bit back, “Then what do you think we should do?”

“Leave!” Castor yelled. “Pretend we were never here!”

That was the most tempting choice. He looked around. It didn’t look like there was anyone around that saw him enter this park and it was so dark that if there was someone, it would have been hard to make out his features. He would have to be careful when leaving though. If he left it as it was, it wouldn’t take too long for the leg to be discovered. What was he supposed to do? Ponyboy’s breath quickened. His mind ran but no ideas were produced. He shut his eyes, trembling.

“Ponyboy?” Castor said, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You need to slow down your breathing.”

“I can’t help it,” Ponyboy whined, once again smearing mud on his face. He hadn’t even noticed his elevated breathing pattern. “I can’t go through this again.”

Christ, his brothers were going to be worried and disappointed in him.

“It’s going to be okay. Let’s just get out of here,” Castor urged. Ponyboy wanted to do that, but…

“We can’t leave the body here. What about their parents?”

Castor looked like he was just about done with him at that point. He threw his hands up. “You’re crazy! There’s a chance you can get out of this, and you want to put a spotlight on yourself? We need to get out of here! What if the killer comes back?”

That sentence hit both of them like a truck. The most pressing concern wasn’t them finding a severed leg. It was where the killer was at the moment. The hole had been sloppily done as if the killer had been in a rush to get it done. Even a leg was left behind and the body was buried right near the surface. There was no way any killer was that sloppy unless they were interrupted. Which would mean the killer was most likely still in the park with them.

It was like cold water was dumped on top of him, making all of his senses hyper-aware of every little thing around him—droplets of water were like drums and there was a bitter taste on his tongue as if he had just woken up from a long nap. His skin prickled with anxiety as the direction of his head snapped around the park. Panic was causing him to see images that weren’t there; shadows that danced like real people. The park seemed to become darker with every second.

There was a snap of a twig behind him, and his body whirled around so fast that he almost gave himself vertigo. He was finally able to scramble back up, being mindful of the location of the severed leg. But after that initial noise, the park became silent once again. Golly, he really hoped that it was a squirrel.

“We need to get out of here,” Ponyboy whispered. This wasn’t the time to be worrying about what to do with a body they had found.

“I’ll say,” Castor agreed. “I’ll take a look at what made that noise. You start running.”

“No!” Ponyboy grabbed Castor’s wrist. At first, it went through but on his second attempt, he managed to do so. He shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Don’t go.”

“It’s alright,” Castor tried to soothe. “If it’s someone, they won’t be able to see me. And, besides, I’m already dead. What more can they do to me?”

Ponyboy shook his head, feeling pressure behind his eyes. His knees shook as he pulled Castor a few inches closer to him. “Don’t go, Castor.”

Don’t leave me, was left unsaid.

“Let’s just get going,” Ponyboy continued, begging. “Please.”

Leaves crunched in the same direction where the snap happened. But, instead of feeling more scared like Ponyboy was, Castor leaned closer to the noise. His back was erect, and his shoulders went stiff. Ever since he found out he was killed, all he wanted to do was one thing: beat the living snot out of the killer. Vengeance—the only emotion he had gotten used to—surged through him every single time he thought about the killer. This time was no different. If anything, the feeling rose exponentially. So much so that his hands shook, and the branches swayed violently without any strong winds.

It might have been a squirrel.

But it might have been the killer.

He was right there. That f*cking bastard.

Get him.

GET HIM.

GET HIM.

GET HIM!

“Castor, please,” Ponyboy tried again, looking around at the violently swaying trees and flinches as debris was picked up. His voice seemed to catch the ghost’s attention just a bit. Castor almost drew back to get the poor boy out of the park. In a way, you could say he grew attached to him over the span that they were together. He couldn’t believe he couldn’t stand the greaser when they first met. Now, it felt like they had been friends for a long time. He couldn’t imagine going around without the other boy. Ponyboy was the same. He felt comforted by the ghost’s presence—almost reliant on the small bit of protection he provided. He couldn’t help but love the expression on his face sometimes when emotions got through to him, and how stunning he looked when his face brightened up. Although the ghost liked to get into trouble sometimes (a lot of times), it was usually funny later.

But Castor couldn’t let this go because of the possibility of exposing his killer. It felt like he was so close. Ponyboy was going to get angry, and Castor was prepared to apologize a thousand times to him later.

“I have to know,” he made final. He had to destroy his killer. He turned away from his friend so he wouldn’t have to look straight at his face, ripped away, and ran off towards the sound. A small tornado of debris flung into Ponyboy’s eyes, causing them to sting so much that he had to close them before he had the chance to see Castor’s figure disappear in the darkness. He tried to open them; tried to ignore the feeling of betrayal that frosted his heart with ice. Castor left him there, knowing full well that it was going to leave him exposed to whatever psycho was in the park with them. Wasn’t he the one who wanted to leave in the first place for safety? It didn’t matter if it was a squirrel or a rat. The fact that he ran off despite Ponyboy’s pleas was like a shot to the gut. He rubbed ferociously at his teary eyes.

There was another snap of a twig, but this time, in an entirely different direction than the first. He froze instantly.

“Ca-Castor?” he called out, voice cracking. He tried to pry his eyes open to look, but the harder he tried, the stronger he squeezed them shut. There was no response. God, let that be a squirrel. But his fears came true when the snap of the twig was followed by the ground crunching over and over like someone was walking toward him. It was definitely not a squirrel, and it definitely wasn’t Castor.

He wanted to call out to Castor again, but he knew it was no good. He can hear the ghost, who was corrupted by vengeance, far in front of him. This wasn’t a cruel prank or a moment where Castor would turn back and help him. Ponyboy was blind, alone, and with someone that he couldn’t identify. There was a sharp scent in the air that Ponyboy, at the moment, couldn’t quite place. He bit down on his tongue as he willed his legs to move.

He had to get out of there. Castor was going to be fine. Ponyboy, however, was not.

Ponyboy never experienced running while blind (or in a pitch-dark room for that matter) and now he understood why the majority of people in the world never did it. It was terrifying and Ponyboy did not need that extra dose there. While he was running, it felt like someone was hot on his trail. His body painfully ran into objects that he couldn’t avoid, too afraid to shout out.

Darn it!

Move! He had to move!

Eventually, almost too suddenly, the feeling that someone was behind him passed and Ponyboy could register that he was out of the park (and had been for a while now) by how his shoes clopped on asphalt instead of mud. It didn’t sound like anyone was behind him anymore, but he couldn’t be sure until he could open his eyes and take a look himself.

He slowly managed to open his eyes—now teary and red—this time, not slowing down his sprint quite yet. He looked behind his shoulder, but nobody was there. The person was gone as if the wind had whisked their presence away. The park was far away and so was the severed leg that caused the panic in the first place. It made him wonder if there even was someone that was running after him at all because why would the killer let him escape when he was easy to remove from the board?

“Christ…” Ponyboy muttered under his breath. He rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Tears were running down his eyes and he wasn’t sure if it was because of how scared he was, the betrayal, or the dirt. When he caught his breath a bit, he continued forward, his body still running on high alert for any oddities.

Ponyboy wasn’t a person that cursed too often, but he was damn close to it. Although it probably wasn’t intentional, Ponyboy felt like his heart was being smashed to pieces by a sledgehammer. Castor left him for dead. There was no going around that grueling fact. He did understand deep down that the ghost wanted to find his killer, but was that more important than his safety? Did he even care about him at all or was he just using him?

He chewed on the insides of his cheeks. He was stupid, wasn’t he? Of course, Castor was using him. What ghost wouldn’t take advantage of his newly acquired gift? He didn’t care about his well-being at all. Once he finished using him, he was going to toss him aside. Ponyboy shouldn’t have given in to him so easily and shouldn’t have let him into his life just like that.

His eyes burned. He was mad, but he was mostly angry about himself more than anything. It was he who should have known better. He should have pretended he couldn’t see him until he left, just like with every other ghost.

Ponyboy wondered what he was supposed to do now. It was obvious that he shouldn’t get involved in Castor’s affairs any longer, but just thinking about avoiding the ghost put a larger pit in his stomach. Why did he feel like that? Castor spat on his trust, yet he still didn’t want to be separated from him.

The more he thought about it, the more his heart felt like it was being crushed. So far, today was… today was… He just hated it all.

While he was moving, he spotted a payphone. Instantly, he headed straight towards it, fishing out the items in his pockets, goods that he received from the poker game—cigarettes, a broken lollipop, loose change, and a bottle cap from one of Two-Bit’s beers. He wished that he had swiped more from the winning pool before he left.

Although he was advised not to, feelings aside, Ponyboy couldn’t leave the severed body in the park. He pushed the coins into the coin slot. When the dispatcher picked up, Ponyboy was careful with his words, giving them only what was necessary for someone to come to the location to check it out. It didn’t take much, and the details were still traumatically fresh. He tried his best to keep his voice stable and his hands tightly wrapped around the phone's handset so that he wouldn’t drop it. But it was hard with some added factors.

“DO YOU WANT TO HEAR A JOKE?” a ghost asked, pressing its ear next to Ponyboy’s. Ponyboy exhaled loudly, staying perfectly still. His lips trembled, knuckles turning white. He couldn’t deal with this anymore. Briefly, his eyes flickered around the area, seeing a handful of ghosts that were loitering around. They mumbled under their breaths words that sounded like they were whispering into his ears. He had forgotten how many there were out there. He had gotten used to them and most started to blend, scarily enough, with living, human beings. Castor made everything seem normal to him. But now that he wasn’t there, everything was going back to how it used to be—like his colorful world was reverting back to black and white.

“Excuse me?” the dispatcher asked. “Are you there?”

“KNOCK KNOCK,” the ghost closest to him started. Christ, he couldn’t do this anymore. Tears were falling, creating tracks on his muddy cheeks, as he continued to give details to the dispatcher all while trying to ignore the ghosts. They chatted about different topics and Ponyboy was sure he accidentally copied some words that they were saying at some point.

He wanted it to stop. Ponyboy sobbed and sobbed, finally hanging up the phone when the dispatcher tried to get detail about him. He sank to his knees right after and curled himself into a tight ball, covering his ears to block out the noise, but no matter what he did, it didn’t work. It never did anyway. Castor said his ability was a gift. If only he saw this because no matter how Pony looked at it, it was a curse that he was stuck with.

“SAY ‘WHO’S THERE’.”

He wanted it to stop.

He wanted everything to stop.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“IT’S ME.”

Please, just shut up!

“WHY DON’T YOU LOOK AT ME?”

Leave him alone!

“CAN’T YOU SEE ME?”

He was scared.

Chapter 12: Declaration

Chapter Text

Where was he?

Where?

Where?

Where?

Where?

Where the f*ck was he?

Castor clenched his jaw, his image flickering back and forth from his normal self to something rotten. The wind was whirling around, making a small tornado around him. Rocks and branches smashed against trees; sometimes they hit each other and made a noise that sounded like a gunshot. Red filled his vision; his image flickered again.

“Where are you?” he roared. But no matter how efficiently he looked, the killer was not there. Did he escape? Or had he left a while ago? He growled under his breath and remembered that he had left Ponyboy behind, and, just from the thought of his partner in crime, his anger deflated. His shoulders slumped, form stabilizing, as he looked around at the mess he had created. His anger made it seem like the park was hit by a freak storm. It was also a reminder that he was a step away from turning into one of those other ghosts. He had almost lost himself.

He also needed to get back to Ponyboy, who had been stabilizing him without both of them knowing it. He was going to have to get the killer another time, much to his dismay. He turned around on his heels and went back in the general direction he had come from. However, when he got to the place where the severed leg was still sitting, Ponyboy was nowhere to be found. There was a spark of worry in his gut, not knowing where the greaser was or what had happened to him. The only reassurance he had were the footprints that led out of the park. He recognized them as Ponyboy’s easily. That was because he had seen the prints that the bottom of his shoes left behind whenever he walked off of wet pavement and onto dry land. They were worn out and smooth at the toes, a result of him being a runner.

He sighed in relief. Good. It looked like Ponyboy got away. Still, he couldn’t help but think about the possibility that the greaser was taken. The only way to be sure was to see him in person.

Castor didn’t know how long he was in the state of anger. Time was weird as a ghost. Hopefully, Ponyboy already arrived at his house. So, he headed in that direction, thinking about what he was going to say to him to make it up to him. Christ, he really f*cked this one up.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to get from the park to Ponyboy’s house. He thought that only a few minutes had passed, but Castor knew that wasn’t true. There were times when he thought an hour went by but then found out he had been floating aimlessly for a few days. That could have happened on his way to the house now. The only thing that kept his time straight was the flurry of cop cars that lit up the street in red and blue as they flew by. They were probably on the way to the park. He wondered if Ponyboy called dispatch to check it out.

Eventually, he made it to the house and stepped right through the door. The gang was all finishing up for the night and Castor was finally able to see what time it was. If he recalled correctly, Ponyboy and him left the house around seven o clock. It was now four hours after that. The gang stretched their stiff limbs before they would go their separate ways. Ponyboy wasn’t with them, but the gang didn’t seem worried in the slightest, so it probably meant that he made it back safely. Castor sighed in relief. Thank God.

With new fervor to see him, the ghost headed to Pony’s room. When he arrived, he let a smile slip on his face when he saw the other boy. He was turned away from him, hair soaking wet and his skin clear of mud. As he entered, he was hit by a waft of Ponyboy’s shampoo. He wondered how he managed to get in the house all muddy and take a shower without alerting the gang that something happened, but he would have to ask him about that later.

“I didn’t find him,” Castor began defeatedly, noticing the younger boy flinch. “He must have gotten away, but I won’t let him next time.”

When Ponyboy didn’t respond to him, he continued, “Glad you made it back though.”

Again, Ponyboy didn’t respond. He didn’t even turn around. He must have been really angry at him, which was valid enough. What he did to him was really sh*tty. He then said with an exhale of breath, “I know. I know. I shouldn’t have done what I did. So, what can I do to make it up to you?”

Still, no answer. Despite having issues with emotions, Castor began to feel a pit growing in his stomach. He tried to push down his worries with a nervous laugh. “Ponyboy? What’s up, man?”

No answer. This time, however, he did turn around, but it was clear he was that he was doing whatever he could to not look at Castor. Ponyboy’s eyes were puffy and had a haunted look to them. It seemed like he cried and that only made Castor feel worse. Currently, they were trained on the ground, even when he stood up to walk out the door. The ghost shuddered when the greaser walked straight through him.

Did Ponyboy lose the ability to see ghosts? No… that wasn’t right. He flinched when he tried to start a conversation with him. Ponyboy was clearly putting every effort he had to ignore him, and honestly? Castor didn’t know which one was worse. Both made him feel a pain that he had never felt before. It made his chest feel cold.

“Ponyboy? Hey, why aren’t you answering me?” Castor asked, turning around to step in Ponyboy’s path again. “Are you ignoring me or something?”

God, he wouldn’t know what to do if that was so. Desperately, he tried to reach out to Ponyboy, but being so emotionally clouded as he was, he failed. His hand swiped through Ponyboy’s shoulder. He saw the boy tense up at the movement but kept up a stoic face. Castor watched as Ponyboy walked out of the room, feeling like his entire world was falling around him. Ghosts never felt sick, but he did at that moment. Who said that ghosts shouldn’t be able to feel pain?

“Hey!” Castor yelled, voice strained and cracked.

Ponyboy walked out, closing the door to separate them. But doors never really mattered around ghosts. Castor followed right behind him.

“Please, Ponyboy. Don’t ignore me. I’m sorry for leaving you there. Truly.” Not again. He didn’t want to be alone again. He didn’t want to lose the one person he could feel normal next to.

Don’t disappear. Please.

This feeling that he was experiencing. Was it because he felt lost? Lost about what? The unknown future ahead of him? Did Ponyboy change him this much already? He watched the greaser sit down on the couch and curl up in a ball in the corner of it. His face pressed into his knees that were drawn to his chest. In that position, he looked small, and it reflected his actual age. It was a slap in the face for Castor who had been dragging him along his murder case. Christ, he even left him alone in the park when a killer was probably around.

Well, isn’t that enough to make anyone feel like a total scumbag?

“Please, Ponyboy,” Castor began again, “Won’t you look at me?”

Ponyboy shook his head against his knee, which brought some hope, but he quickly realized that the reaction wasn’t for him. Right next to the greaser was another ghost. It was small, around the size of his forearm, so Castor hadn’t noticed it at first. It was standing on the armrest, looking up at Ponyboy with its empty eye sockets. His eyes flickered back to the cowering (yet still managing to disguise it as just sadness) greaser. He sighed.

“I swear,” Castor said. Ponyboy was just a magnet to ghosts. Castor reached over and picked up the ghost with one large grip. He took another look at Ponyboy, his form flickering. The greaser was still wrapped up in a ball with no indication that he was going to speak to him again. Maybe this was the end of the road for them, as much as the thought pained him.

Maybe, for once, he should just do what the greaser wanted and disappear. He was only doing harm by sticking around. He had caused so much trouble for Ponyboy, always playing pranks and annoying him. Because he was a ghost, he probably scared him too. His hands clenched into fists, almost squeezing the small ghost into limbo.

Fine then. If that had to be done.

“Would it make it better for me to go away?” he asked quietly, knowing full well what the answer was. Ponyboy twitched.

Castor didn’t want to leave. It made him feel emotions that he didn’t like. But he was so selfish, and he had to give something back to Ponyboy who had been selflessly helping him.

“Please, say something to me,” Castor begged, wanting with all his heart that Ponyboy would tell him not to go. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted this to be the one selfish thing that he had. “I’m truly sorry, Ponyboy. Please, don’t make me go.”

“Ponyboy, you doing okay?” Soda interrupted, walking out of the bathroom. He immediately sat next to his brother. “I thought you were tired and wanted to get some sleep.”

There was a concerned frown on his face, and he was probably already worried when Ponyboy came back all muddy and with red-rimmed eyes. It didn’t take a genius to know that something serious went down in the last four hours or so. Finally, Ponyboy spoke.

“Just not feeling well, is all,” he said to Soda who had started to rub his back soothingly. Suddenly, Castor felt like he was imposing on something.

“Is that really just it?” Soda asked. “You’ve been looking down since you got back. Did something happen?”

Ponyboy was silent for a bit, choosing his words carefully. He eventually settled on, “I’m scared.”

“What are you scared about?”

His fingers were tapping anxiously on his legs. “Being alone, I guess. I think I want to be alone, but I’m also scared of it.”

“You’re not alone.” Soda switched to petting his hair. “You know that. You have all of us.”

Those words were meaningful, but Castor knew that Soda didn’t understand the context of his brother’s words. Ponyboy sunk into his knees further, looking like he was about to be swallowed up by the couch cushions. He said he wanted to be alone. Those words were probably meant for Castor. He almost left after hearing it too. If Ponyboy really wanted him gone, then he should just go. He looked at the ghost in his hand that was squirming like a worm.

Except, if he left, that would leave Ponyboy at the mercy of these other ghosts. He wasn’t too far from that point himself (losing himself, he meant), but, at the moment, he was the only one keeping them away. The only other weapon Ponyboy had was his developing skill to ignore. His hand shook as he threw the ghost through the wall and out of the house. The lights flickered, causing Soda to look up. It looked like he was looking straight at Castor, but the ghost knew he was looking through him. And that caused him to feel worse, knowing that it was going to be like that for all of eternity if he leaves.

“I wonder if it’s the wind,” Soda mused quietly before he turned back to his brother to continue consoling him.

“It could be an anomaly that is causing this issue too,” Ponyboy sniped.

The light’s flickered more, despite Castor trying to make it stop. Ponyboy was right. He was the issue—he was from the beginning. He needed to calm down. No, he needed to leave.

His jaw clenched. His world was tearing into two. He was standing at crossroads.

“Could be,” Soda hummed. He hugged Ponyboy at an awkward angle. He continued soothingly, “Everything’s going to be alright, Pony. Whatever’s been scaring you will pass, and the gang and I will be there at your side no matter what. You can tell us anything.”

Ponyboy let out a noise that sounded like an empty laugh. “Even if you don’t believe me?”

Soda tripped metaphorically. “Why wouldn’t we believe you?”

“Because it’s starting to seem like none of you will believe the truth anymore but are willing to go along with what’s fake. I get it. Fake means normal.” Ponyboy pulled away from Soda, ignoring his brother’s hurt expression.

“When have we never believed you?” Soda asked, falling into another that had been dug. “What are you talking about?”

“Asking that confirms a lot, actually. So, I guess I should thank you, Soda,” Ponyboy sniffled, looking up again to give his brother an empty smile. His eyes sheened with incoming tears. “I need to be alone.”

Soda’s mouth parted, eyes widening. Hurt was clear on his face. Never has Ponyboy done this. They were as close as brothers could be. Ponyboy always confided with him. He always went to him for comfort. He never pushed him. Now, Soda was lost on how he should respond, never having gone through this before.

“Po-Ponyboy?” he reached out, voice strained.

Ponyboy must have taken pity on his brother, because he followed with, “I’m sorry. I just want to be alone right now.”

This was bad. Ponyboy pushing Castor away is one thing, but he is starting to push away people that are in his life. It shouldn’t be like this. Did what Castor really cause this much damage? He shouldn’t be doing this to his family. He shouldn’t be alone. Castor knew all about being alone and he did not want Ponyboy to walk that path.

How self-destructive periods of hurt could make someone. Ponyboy didn’t want to be alone—didn’t want to push anyone away. A voice was probably speaking in his mind, telling him that everyone would be better off without him and his problems. He probably thought this was for the best.

Yes, Castor knew exactly what was running through his mind at the moment.

This ran deeper than what happened at the park. What he did only pushed Pony off the cliff. f*ck, he should have been more considerate earlier.

Ponyboy did not want to be alone. There wasn’t anyone in the world that truly wanted to be alone. He wanted someone to reach out to him; to hear his screams.

The greaser walked into the bathroom and Castor followed right behind, watching the boy slide down the shut door with new tears. His lips trembled, hands covering his mouth to muffle his sobs. He held back from reaching out to him.

See? Castor was right. Ponyboy didn’t want to be alone at all.

So, the ghost made a decision right then and there. He wasn’t going to leave Ponyboy. No matter how much he tried to push him away. No matter if Ponyboy was mad at him. Just like what Soda said, things were going to pass. He was going to stay with him until he was ready. He was going to protect him from now on. That was his declaration.

Chapter 13: On Day Four

Chapter Text

It had been almost one week and there hadn’t been much change. Ponyboy was still giving him the silent treatment. There were times, however, when Castor thought Pony was going to crack. There were also times when he thought he was going to crack himself. Each day was harder to get through than the last. The urge to disappear was strong. He constantly had to remind himself to stick around and chase off the ghosts. He couldn’t back out now.

Yeah, he said that but… it wasn’t like Ponyboy needed him. Ponyboy was great at pretending ghosts weren’t there, and most of the time, that would be enough. They would leave by the time Castor could think about how to shoo them away. For the ghosts that didn’t leave, the chances of Castor being able to help were about 50/50. Most of the time, they were small and skittery. Castor didn’t even have to do anything. Then there were the larger ones that weren’t so easily deterred. He couldn’t do anything against them, making it clear that he was useless.

He was making everything worse. Even Ponyboy’s relationship with the gang was slipping away because of him.

On the day after the incident, Ponyboy was avoiding him, which wasn’t surprising. He also was avoiding the gang. He didn’t get any sleep the previous night, deciding to space out on the couch while Soda went back to their bedroom. When morning came, he looked like he was about to pass out. When the gang saw him, they instantly knew that something had happened last night. Soda told them what occurred soon afterward, shocking them all. The brothers were extremely close and none of them had ever seen them get into a disagreement before. The closest was when Soda was upset about Ponyboy and Darry arguing all the time, but that wasn’t even an argument, and it was quickly resolved.

This was different than that moment. Soda hardly got any sleep because of it, too worried about his brother. He looked towards Darry for help who could only shake his head at any attempt the gang made to talk to Ponyboy.

“Give him some space,” Darry said. It was usually Soda who told them that whenever Ponyboy needed to be alone. Soda couldn’t help but clench his jaw. “He’s going to get over it and come running back to you. I’m sure of it.”

The gang and Soda did just that for the rest of the day.

On day two, bags hung under Ponyboy’s eyes. He spent another night without getting a blink of sleep. When the gang came over, they watched him from the corner of their eyes. He left to go on a walk at one point. Castor followed right behind him, making sure that he was safe from any dangers around them. It looked like he was searching for something. Maybe he was looking for Johnny and Dally. In the end, he didn’t find them (or whatever he was looking for) and went back home.

He didn’t go inside though and plopped down on the porch. His legs swung off the side, kicking off some water that soaked his shoes. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag of it, lazily blowing out the smoke and feeling it irritate the back of his throat. Castor sat beside him, hands beneath his thighs. He opened and closed his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. It was hard to talk to Ponyboy these days. Luckily or not, the silence didn’t last long because that was when Steve had enough of his aloof attitude and cold treatment towards Soda. Of course, he wasn’t treating Soda coldly, but Steve didn’t interpret the situation that way.

The screen door shuttered loudly, causing Ponyboy to glance back.

“What’s with you?” Steve started, eyes hard and sharp.

Not wanting to deal with him at all, Ponyboy sighed, “What do you want, Steve?”

Steve wasn’t deterred in the slightest. He crossed his arms. “I want to know why you’re treating Soda like this. He has been nothing but nice to you.”

Ponyboy’s eyebrows crinkled together. Steve made it seem like he was abusing Soda, which wasn’t right at all. “Is there something wrong with wanting to be alone sometimes?”

“I don’t care if you want to be alone. But do you know how much you’re hurting Soda? He thinks he did something wrong, and I know for a fact that he didn’t. The problem is you.”

Ponyboy nodded, looking in front of him again. He brought the cigarette to his lips, hovering over them. “You’re right. The problem is me.”

This time, Steve verbally tripped, not expecting him to agree with him. Instead, he was expecting him to shoot back an insult. He quickly recovered. “Then why the f*ck aren’t you doing anything about it? You know that you’re the problem.”

“There are some things that people are stuck with. Because of that, I’m doing the best thing that I can do.”

Steve gave him a funny look. “What the hell does that mean and why is this the best thing you can do? Do you know how f*cked up that way of thinking is? Look, I don’t know what’s been going on with you, kid, but why are you pushing everyone away? How stupid can you get? You can’t possibly think that separating yourself is what’s best. I know that we don’t get along often. You’re an annoying, immature tagalong.”

“Only those three words? I would have thought you would have more adjectives for me.”

“I do. I could go on but what I wanted to say is that even though you’re a brat, I had a bit of respect for you. I’m sad to see that I was wrong. You really disappoint me, kid.”

Ponyboy pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do me a favor and talk to Soda again. Don’t hurt people that care about you. You can’t push people like that away, no matter what you’re dealing with or you’re going to end up the loneliest person in the world.”

And with that, Steve went back inside. Once again, the door shuttered behind him.

Ponyboy scratched the side of his cigarette. He wasn’t in the mood to smoke any more. With a sigh, he dropped it on the ground. It was almost completely used anyway. He made sure to stomp it out thoroughly—he even covered it with dirt—but didn’t make a move to pick it up. Castor, seeing that, picked it up for him and dropped it in the cigarette tray that was placed on the porch.

“He’s right, you know,” Castor said, sitting back down. “You shouldn’t be pushing people that care about you away. I hope you’ll speak to me again soon.”

Castor could have imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw Ponyboy flicker his eyes toward him. But when he looked over, the greaser was looking in front of him again.

Did he imagine it?

On day three, Ponyboy had to go back to school. This time, much to everyone’s relief, he got a bit of sleep. He slept on the couch, tossing and turning. At one point, he kicked off his blanket, instantly curling in on the side of the couch to keep warm. Castor sat on the ground next to him throughout the night. When he noticed the blanket was kicked off, he pulled it back up, watching Ponyboy relax again. The greaser’s eyes cracked open before they closed again.

In the morning, Ponyboy’s skin was pale, but he didn’t look like he was going to pass out at any given moment anymore. Castor made sure to stick close to him just in case, despite Ponyboy tensing up whenever he got too close.

During one of his classes, the younger boy fought hard to not fall asleep. He knew that one of his teachers noticed though because he kept his eyes on him throughout the lesson.

For the entire day, weirdly enough, Ponyboy couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Despite being tired, he couldn’t help but feel on edge as if someone was going to pop out of nowhere and snatch him away. The gang wasn’t around to protect him there. Luckily, nothing happened. He was safe in school and whoever was in the park probably didn’t even see what he looked like.

It was weird for Ponyboy to be back like nothing had happened at the park. The police hadn’t released the finding to the public yet. He knew that they found something since when Ponyboy passed by the park yesterday when he was out looking for Johnny and Dally, there was police tape all over the place.

Maybe that was part of the reason why he was on edge. During lunch, he found himself sitting under the staircase where students liked to bum a smoke with each other. Safe from the eye of the faculty. Safe from watchful eyes. Currently, nobody was there but that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t come later. Ponyboy felt himself relax, slipping his hand into his backpack to find his pack of Kools. He clicked his tongue when he couldn’t find it, feeling his body tremble with the need to get high. When he gave up on his search, he pulled out his sketchbook instead. He wasn’t sure how well he would be able to draw at the moment, but it was something to get hyper-focused on and that was good enough for now.

His hands were trembling from both hunger and withdrawal. He probably should have grabbed some food before he left for school. Well, there was no going back now. His pencil glided on an empty page, starting with a light circle.

Ponyboy liked to draw people. Before Dally died, he liked to draw him and his elfish features. Now, he couldn’t even bring himself to draw a stick figure that represented him. He wondered what he should draw now.

Drawing helped him a lot. His eyes were trained on the paper, making it so that he wouldn’t have to look at a ghost, including Castor. He was gripping the pencil too tightly, causing certain strokes to be too rugged, but that was okay.

“What are you drawing?” Castor asked, reminding him that he was still there. Right… Ponyboy couldn’t believe that the ghost was still hanging around him. He thought for sure, he would leave. It was touching but it also made it hard.

To be honest, Ponyboy wasn’t too angry at him anymore, and he missed talking to him. It was fun and Castor was kind to him now. The ghost still tried to take care of him despite everything and Ponyboy acknowledged that he was hurting him. The only reason why he kept up the silent treatment was because he didn’t know how to talk to him again. The longer he waited the harder it was.

He knew he should be more bitter, but he was just confused. His brain kept telling him what Castor did was wrong and that if it happened once, it would happen again. That should have been enough for Ponyboy to hard pass the ghost, but his heart was betraying him. He wished he could scold it for trying to harm his well-being, but why was his heart’s voice louder than his brain’s? Why did it want to fall into a potential trap? And why did he want to listen to it?

“You should draw me. I can pose for you, but none of that naked model stuff. You would have to buy me dinner first before I do that,” Castor said before he paused in thought. “I don’t know how you would give me food though. Hmm…”

Ponyboy’s lips twitched upward. He breathed out his nose to prevent himself from chuckling. Honestly, Castor wouldn’t be a bad subject to draw. If only he had colored pencils on him that would be able to capture his captivating azure eyes that were like mirrors that pointed to the sky. His sharp figures would have been fun to draw too, but no lines would be able to bring the features on his neck to justice. If only he could study his neck closer and feel every groove on it with his fingers.

Ponyboy shut his eyes, washing his brain from the thought. What was he thinking about?! He shouldn’t be thinking about that at all! Bad, Ponyboy! Bad!

Those thoughts were just the artistic part of him talking. That had it be it. Just artist thoughts... Yep.

“You are drawing me!” Castor said, breaking Ponyboy out of his thought. He looked down and, to his mortification, he had indeed started to draw the ghost. Not only that, but this was probably one of the best quick sketches he had ever done. He didn’t even miss the subtle details on Castor—not even the cute mole that rested behind his ear.

Ponyboy’s ears started to turn red. Oh my god. His brain felt like it was malfunctioning.

“Look at that hot stranger!” Castor continued, leaning way too close to him. “I didn’t think you would actually draw me.”

The sketchbook snapped shut, echoing off the back of the staircase. Castor flinched. Ponyboy stuffed the sketchbook in his bag without a second delay and turned his body away from the ghost.

“Ponyboy?” Castor called out tentatively. He felt his stomach drop. Did he do something wrong? He thought that Ponyboy was throwing him a stick but was he incorrect in that judgment? He swallowed thickly. He was always f*cking things up. Ponyboy never wanted him to stick around. He was only tolerating him, but he stepped over the line this time. He didn’t know how, but he did.

He was just being friendly, but he must have been such a burden. The world was spinning around him way too quickly.

Ponyboy didn’t want him there, he had to accept that. Seriously, did it only take a closed sketchbook for his resolve to crumble like that? How pathetic. Castor tried to chew on the insides of his cheek.

Those were the thoughts that ran through Castor’s head but, in reality, Ponyboy only turned to hide how embarrassed he was. He slammed the sketchbook shut so that Castor couldn’t see the page anymore and he turned away to hide how red his face got.

“Did I do something wrong?” Castor asked and Ponyboy wanted nothing more but to comfort him and tell him it was a misunderstanding. He didn’t do anything wrong. It was Ponyboy that was wrong (in multiple ways too). His resolve was crumbling too.

Why was he getting so embarrassed over this? Sure, sharing art was embarrassing sometimes, but he never felt it this intensely before.

Where was a cigarette when he needed one?

“I’m sorry…” Castor whispered, sounding so broken and defeated. “I’m sorry… I did something wrong again and I keep making things difficult for you. I’m sorry…”

No, he wasn’t. Ponyboy started to turn around, the flush somewhat going down from the shift in mood. His eyes fell onto Castor who was looking down at his hands. Ponyboy felt a stab to the heart when he saw that, while the ghost was still there, he was starting to fade away. His appearance soon became transparent.

Ponyboy opened his mouth, finally finding words, but footsteps pounded down the stairs. Before he knew it, people were joining him. He shut his mouth.

“Someone’s already here!” a greaser said, throwing their backpack on the ground. “I bet you he would have some L&Ms.”

“Nobody chooses those as their go-to,” another groaned, sitting in front of Ponyboy. “Right? You don’t have any?”

Ponyboy turned away from Castor and shook his head, “No, I don’t.”

“See?”

As they continued to banter about what cigarette brands were the best, Ponyboy turned back to Castor but the ghost was nowhere to be found. His mouth became dry. sh*t.

Even the rest of the day, Castor was nowhere in sight.

It was Ponyboy’s turn to feel like he f*cked up.

Day four came by and there was finally trouble and not just because Castor was MIA. Ponyboy knew he didn’t suddenly lose his sight because he could still see other ghosts. That meant Castor left which Ponyboy didn’t blame him for doing.

By the time he made it to his first class, he felt hollow inside. He couldn’t even focus. It was ironic somewhat. Although Castor disappeared, he sure made himself prevalent in his head. He pulled on the roots of his hair, jotting his thoughts down in his notebook. Only two words managed to be scribbled on the paper though:

I’m sorry.

He dropped the pencil and rested his head in his arms, eyes burning and threatening to tear up. Christ, why did everything have to turn out this way? Castor could say sorry for running after the killer because he couldn’t help himself, but what about Ponyboy? What excuse did he have? He watched as his pencil rolled off the desk. For a moment, he didn’t reach down for it. He just stared at the fallen stationery that had seen better days.

He was just about to reach for it when the pencil started to move. His brows crinkled together as it was lifted from the ground and gently placed on his desk again. Luckily, he sat near the back of the class, or it would have brought some unwanted attention to him.

Ponyboy’s heart started to beat quickly. There was only one ghost that would do that for him (maybe Johnny if he was around) and that was currently MIA. It had to be Castor. Was he here the entire time, watching over him and taking care of him? His stomach was filled with butterflies at the thought. He thought back to when Castor could have been there since his apparent disappearance. He did wake up tucked-in again and, when he was washing his face this morning and thought he had dropped his towel, it was conveniently back in the original spot. There was also the breeze that helped him keep his balance when he almost tripped out the door, and there was also the time his shoes were re-tied after being undone. He just passed it off as him forgetting that he had done so himself. They were just coincidental occurrences, but were they really?

“Castor?” Ponyboy whispered, feeling so strange to say the name again. It rolled off his tongue so effortlessly and nicely. It felt like a drug that was giving him a shot of endorphins. He looked in the direction he thought the ghost could be standing in, but for all he knew, he could have been looking at an empty spot. There was another breeze, and the smell of sandalwood filled his nose. It was as if to say, Did you say that? Are you really calling for me?

“Are you there?” Ponyboy asked, ignoring the funny look he got from the person who sat in front of him. He didn’t care. His breath hitched in his throat when a figure started to slowly manifest in front of him. His features and colors started to be put together like droplets of watercolor that fell onto damp paper, starting with his rosy cheeks and ending with the blue of his eyes.

“I’m… I’m here,” Castor blubbered.

Castor was here.

He was really here.

The ghost was looking at him unbelievably as if he didn’t think he would hear Ponyboy call out to him again. He blinked heavily, mouth parted. He was standing a lot closer than what was anticipated. Castor was inches from the desk and was probably reading the small note that he wrote.

Ponyboy wanted to ask why he disappeared, but he knew why already. But they needed to talk. Ponyboy had to. He wanted to.

He raised his hand, not waiting for the teacher to acknowledge him before he said, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

He was out the door before anyone could register what he said.

He slipped inside the bathroom, feeling like his heels had tiny pogo sticks attached to them. It seemed like it was empty in there, giving them the needed privacy. As soon as the door closed, he turned to Castor and rambled away, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you. It was cruel and there’s no excuse for me treating you that way.”

Castor looked surprised. He made noises to stop him from speaking and patted his shoulder, sending a familiar jolt through his body. “Don’t apologize! I was the one that crossed the line. I caused you to hate me.”

Ponyboy rapidly shook his head. “I never hated you! I was upset and I felt betrayed.”

“And you had the right to be! I shouldn’t have left you. I will forever regret that. I’m sorry that I broke your trust. Our deal was for me to protect you while we figure out how to let me move on. I failed you.”

Before Castor could say anything else, Ponyboy stretched out his arms in an attempt to cover the ghost’s mouth. But his attempt only ended in his hands going through his head. Ponyboy looked away sheepishly, unable to look Castor in the eyes. In return, the ghost stopped talking.

“Let me get a chance to speak, okay?” Ponyboy asked, throat tight. “You didn’t fail me. I failed myself. When you left me alone, I thought for sure you were using me; that you didn’t care about me one bit. I have this gift and all, you know? I was hurt and I was scared. I mean, how could you? There was a killer there and you just took off after accidentally blinding me. While you were gone, there was someone else there. I swear to God, someone else was there. I thought for sure I was a goner. I was mad at myself for trusting you and I’m mad at myself now that I might be falling for the same trick again.”

Ponyboy’s breath shuttered. He continued, “Why do I still want to trust you and why am I disgusted with myself for giving you the silent treatment? I hate this. My heart can’t handle all the sh*t I’ve been through. But why did it feel so empty without you there? Why did it feel wrong to be alone? I tried to tell myself that this is a side effect of being manipulated by you, but I don’t think you did. You didn’t purposefully do anything wrong, but I didn’t understand that at first and ended up doing something I regretted. You spent so much time not being seen or heard and I abused that knowledge and hurt you. I don’t know why you stuck around after I treated you like that. Wouldn’t it have been easier to leave? I… I don’t understand why you stuck around after everything. I don’t know why you took care of me too. I don’t think there is room for forgiveness. So why? Why are you so insistent? What I did was sh*tty.”

Castor’s eyes became both sad and soft. He wrapped his hands around Ponyboy’s wrists and brought them away from his head. His thumbs rubbed soothingly over his skin there. He said, “I did think about leaving, to be honest. I just about convinced myself it would have been better for me to go. I thought you wanted me gone and I also didn’t want you to get targeted by whoever killed me. I’m sorry for everything I caused. I put you through a lot and I knew that if I stuck around, you would continue to be put through more. I was scared for you, which is funny since I never thought I would feel all of these emotions. But, then again, you always seemed to be able to share them with me. I don’t want harm to come to you and I don’t want you sad. I was selfish this whole time. I don’t want to be alone again.”

Ponyboy’s eyes were teary. It felt good to get all of this off of his chest. “I don’t want to be alone either. I was scared of the killer, and I still am, but I’m scared of being alone even more. I just hope you would be able to forgive me for the pain I caused you.”

“Well, I stuck around you, didn’t I?” Castor gave him an amused look.

“Still…” Ponyboy mumbled, doubtful.

“Let’s just say that we’re even then. We both hurt each other but we both recognized where we went wrong. Let’s just promise to try our bests not to hurt each other, okay? That’s the only way we can move forward from here.”

Ponyboy nodded. That made sense. He still felt bad, and he felt like he shouldn’t be forgiven for what he did. But who was to say that Castor wasn’t having the same thoughts? He didn’t want to have it passed off as nothing because it definitely wasn’t. But he could go the rest of his life regretting his actions and hurting himself and others because of him hanging onto it. Castor was trying to help them move on without it being hard. Ponyboy could at least try. “Okay.”

“Because I’m selfish, I wanted to make another request, if that was alright,” Castor suddenly said.

“What is it?”

“Please let me stay at your side. No matter what happens. Don’t abandon me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it if I’m left alone.”

Ponyboy felt his ears redden. He knew that they were innocent words, but he couldn’t help but think about another meaning to them. He pushed the thoughts down and answered with words that he didn’t know if he would be able to keep, “I won’t.”

Castor grinned, although it didn’t have the same shine that it usually did. “Then let me make another request. Let’s not pursue the killer anymore. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

To say that Ponyboy was shocked was an understatement. He thought Castor wanted his help. But it was understandable. Ponyboy was certain someone had chased him back there. The last thing any of them wanted was for him to meet an untimely end. He nodded his head, bringing his thumb up to his lips to bite his nail, only to gag when he realized he was in the bathroom. Grimacing, he went to wash his hands. He didn’t even touch anything besides the door handle, but restrooms always had a way to remind him how many germs there were in the world. Especially in this bathroom where someone had taken a hot, steaming dump in the urinal and left it there.

While he washed his hands, he looked in the reflection to watch Castor. He didn’t realize he was doing it until Castor looked back at him. For a brief moment, their eyes locked before Ponyboy bashfully looked anywhere but at him. Unfortunately, his eyes locked onto another pair that was peering over a stall door at him.

His body stiffened up and he looked back down, praying that the ghost passed it off as a mistake. He scrubbed at his hands harder, watching the skin slowly turn red.

“You’re really scrubbing away there,” Castor joked. “Scared I will catch you red-handed for something you did? Were you the one who shat all over the urinal?”

“WE HEARD YOU,” the ghost teasingly murmured. Castor spun around when he heard the voice.

“sh*t, that’s not good,” he said. Ponyboy would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t scared. No, really?

The stall door slowly started to creak open. Instead of one ghost, two figures walked out of the stall. The bathroom instantly got murky from the sheer size, as if a dark, black cloud had sunk inside. The blood that poured out of its large eyes pooled in its mouth before falling onto the floor. Next to it was a smaller, more normal sized, figure.

“So, it was you,” they said and Ponyboy recognize them in a heartbeat. It was Peter Madison, aka Castor’s old friend. Somehow, Ponyboy had missed the fact that someone else was in the bathroom with him… and, of course, it had to be the guy who was number one on Ponyboy’s suspect list.

“Yeah?” Ponyboy said, trying to hold his ground. He inched back towards the door. Maybe he’ll be able to get out. He just had to wait for the perfect time to bolt. “What do you want?”

Peter hummed, looking around. “Nothing. Nothing. Who were you talking to? I don’t see anyone else here.”

“They left.”

“Don’t lie. I didn’t hear anyone leave and your conversation was one-sided.” The soc grinned as he mimicked the other boy. “I’m sorry. I’m soooooo sorry.”

“SORRY. SORRRYYYYYY,” the ghost attached to him echoed.

Ponyboy gritted his teeth. “Shut up, soc!”

“You tell him!” Castor cheered.

The grin on Peter’s face fell flat, eyes cold. He walked closer and so did the ghost. Ponyboy took a few steps back in return. “Now let me be real with you, you f*cking grease. You honestly piss me off. You’re nothing but trouble for everyone. You always seem to find yourself in the middle of sh*t. First Bob and then you were asking for Castor? Stay away from all of this and other people. It’ll honestly be better if you were the next one to disappear. I hope you get found like the body at the park.”

Was that a threat? Ponyboy’s hands were getting clammy. It started to get harder to breathe. It hit him that Peter knew about the body when details hadn’t been released to the public yet. Theories ran through his head about a friend killing a friend. It wasn’t far reached, and it made the most sense. Ponyboy swallowed the lump in his throat; his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

Oh no.

Why did he always find himself in these situations?

Peter was the killer, most likely. For him to know about the body… and for him to have that giant ghost hanging around him… Things were adding up. He had to play this safe. He didn’t know what was in store for him. He should have never left the classroom.

His voice shook as he spoke his next words, “How do you know about that? They didn’t release that info to the public yet.”

The large ghost’s eyes spun around as it leaned even closer. Its bony hands pressed against the tiles. Ponyboy’s heart was pounding in his chest. Cold sweat dripped down his back and his eyes widened. The room became murkier and Ponyboy was close to pissing himself. How cruel that he was in a bathroom too.

“DON’T ACCUSE HIM!” the ghost screamed. Blood gushed out more rapidly. “HOW DARE YOU?!”

Peter’s eyes were cold but there was some amusem*nt in them. “The question is, how did you know?”

“I…” Ponyboy’s head was blank. It looked bad for him as well. He struggled to come up with an excuse. “I saw there were a lot of cops! I’m not blind.”

It was an obvious lie with how long he hesitated. Peter scoffed, stepping closer until he was almost touching noses with Ponyboy. He jabbed his finger in his chest repeatedly. “Don’t give me that bullsh*t. You saw it. You were there. You’re a piece of scum to this world. You should disappear just like your parents and your two little friends of yours.”

Instantly, Ponyboy saw red. He didn’t care if Peter was possibly the sicko who was causing all of these disappearances. What gave him the gall to talk about them that way? His eyes narrowed, jaw so tight that his teeth almost shattered. He kept his fists balled at his sides, holding as much anger back as he could, but Peter was surely testing how long he would be able to keep that up.

“I want to sock him!” Castor growled. “Friend or not.”

The spot where the finger was being jabbed at started to feel sore. Peter continued, spit flying out and onto Pony’s face, “What’s this about Castor? Why are you suddenly interested in him? No matter how I look at it, you’re the problem. You’re the f*cking problem, you hear me?! You shouldn’t even be mentioning Castor’s name, you filthy hood. So, stay away! Stay. The. f*ck. Away! And why do you keep looking away from me? What are you? A freak as well? You have so many problems! No wonder why you’re always alone. Freak!”

“Get away from me, man!” Ponyboy yelled, finally having enough. He shoved Peter to the floor with a shout. And that was the wrong move. In an instant, the large ghost’s eyes flared in anger. Its hair rose as if it was being affected by static electricity.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” the ghost bellowed and lunged forward. Its large, bony arms moved like a giant spider toward him. Ponyboy couldn’t help but stumble back, which probably either boosted Peter’s ego or confused him. Every hair was on its end. “HOW DARE YOU?! HOW DARE YOU?! HOW DARE YOU BULLY HIM?!”

Ponyboy’s breath hitched as he tripped over his feet, and, just like that, his world came to a crashing stop. Everything became deafeningly quiet. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Castor’s lips move with words his ears didn’t catch.

No way. This was it.

He thought that the killer would get him first, but Ponyboy should have seen a ghost ending him coming a mile away.

His body didn’t feel real anymore. It was like his soul had been extracted from it. He was watching himself fall while watching his life flash before his eyes. The ghost was upon him now. Its jaws opened impossibly wide. The blood outlined each rotten tooth and connected the two rows together like a voodoo doll’s sewn mouth. The smell of decay flooded his nose, causing his eyes to burn with new tears. Or maybe that was from the intense amount of fear that caused his heart to stop.

“Castor,” he whimpered, breath icy. Help.

Somehow, he managed to look over to his ghost companion—no, his friend—to at least have something nice to look at before his end. But Castor only showed horror on his face, reminding him of the situation that he was in.

Help.

Please, help him.

Castor, please help him!

He squeezed his eyes shut before he opened them again.

This was it.

It was over for him.

What was going to happen now?

Was he going to die?

He didn’t want to die.

He still had a lot to live for.

He still had the gang.

His brothers were going to be crushed.

They wouldn’t know what exactly happened to him.

Would his body be torn to pieces? Would it look like a suicide? Or would it look like his heart had stopped beating due to fear? He was honestly surprised that he hadn’t died yet.

Well… at least he knew that he would become a ghost at least, and honestly? That managed to take a load of fear off of him.

But dang. He didn’t get a chance to say goodbye and he left on bad terms with the gang. Ponyboy would do anything to go back in time to redo everything, starting with Johnny’s death.

He was going to miss all of them dearly, feeling tortured being around them after death and not being able to talk to them.

And Castor… At least Ponyboy would probably get to say sorry to him again.

The last thing he saw before everything went black was Castor running towards him with outstretched hands, intending to push him out of the way before he could fall to the ground. The attempt was useless now. He wanted to tell him not to bother. Castor, surprisingly enough, managed to reach him. However, none of them were expecting his arms to go through Ponyboy right when the world slipped away and everything went black.

When his eyes opened again, he was lying on the cold floor of the bathroom with no idea how long he had been there. He sat up in a daze, head spinning and wincing as spots of pain were agitated at the motion. The soc was no longer there and the murky ghost was gone with him. If he had to take a guess, Peter kicked him senselessly while he was down.

His chest was hurting something fierce, feeling like it was moments away from having a heart attack.

That thought caused him to stop still. His breath hitched in his throat. His fingers dug into the grout, feeling… cold?

Why was it cold?

Why was he hurt?

Why did he wake up on the floor?

More importantly, where was Ponyboy?

It was like a bucket of water was dumped over his head. His hands clutched at his heart, feeling the fast beat that hadn’t even begun to slow down yet. A heartbeat? Why was there a heartbeat? He shot up to his feet, ignoring the jolts of pain, and stumbled to the mirror on legs that were as wobbly as a baby lamb. His hands clutched the counter as he stared unbelievably at his reflection.

“No way…” he said, voice not his own.

Because staring straight at him was Ponyboy. Holy crap. Castor Mullings possessed Ponyboy Curtis.

Chapter 14: Possession of Ponyboy Curtis

Chapter Text

Castor couldn’t believe his eyes. Was this for real? He pinched his (Ponyboy’s?) cheeks until they started to sting. He definitely wasn’t imagining things. He let go of his cheeks, watching them slowly turn red like he was blushing. The surprised look mixed with the red cheeks was almost, dare he say it, cute on Ponyboy. Castor pinched his arm just to make sure one more time. He shouldn’t miss feeling physical pain, but he did. He still wanted to punch something to make sure he could feel pain and that these weren’t phantom feelings, but he shouldn’t self-mutilate somebody else’s body.

He brought his hand to his heart, feeling the slightly elevated heartbeat. His chest was tight, and he wondered if this was a residue of Ponyboy’s emotions.

Speaking of Ponyboy, it was probably time to get out of his body. The time was too short. He was going to long feeling stuff again, but he had to do it. Castor closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. He concentrated hard, imagining himself separating from the physical body. However, when he opened them again, he was still looking straight at Ponyboy’s eyes like they were his own.

Crap. This was bad.

He tried again, closing his eyes and tightening his diaphragm, but… nothing.

Panic started to quickly settle in.

“On no…” He mumbled under his breath. This was really bad. He tugged at his hair, cold sweat dripping down his spine.

How was he supposed to get out? He didn’t even know how he possessed him in the first place.

f*ck.

He growled. You know what? Whatever.

This was an opportunity for him. He might as well take it. Hey, he probably would slip out eventually without even trying. Plus, Ponyboy probably would have wanted him to experience living again.

He left the bathroom, already coming up with a list of things he wanted to do. The ground pressed against the soles of his feet. Although his knees were shaking, he had a bounce in his step. The only thing he was missing was music to stride to. He took a deep breath, a smile curving on his lips. He could smell things. He could feel things. He could taste things.

f*ck, man. He wanted food!

He made it to Ponyboy’s class to grab his backpack for him. The class had started up again with a new set of students. The room quieted down when he got inside and all eyes turned to him. The teacher put down the chalk he was holding.

“And where did you go off to?” the teacher asked, eyes pointed.

“The bathroom,” Castor answered simply. Whoa. Super weird to speak with a different voice.

The teacher looked at his watch, tutting. “You left over half an hour ago.”

The smile on his face grew. “You were counting? I don’t even count how it takes for me to go. Sounds pretty creepy if you ask me.”

There were snickers from the other students and Castor felt his chest puff up. It felt so good to be seen and heard by other people. He knew that he was in Ponyboy’s body, but, from his perspective, it didn’t seem like that at all.

A vein swelled on the teacher’s forehead. “I will repeat myself. You were gone for over a half hour. You missed the class. Tell me, what were you doing all this time?”

“I told you. Bathroom. Do you want me to tell you exactly what came out during this time too? I think you might have a weird obsession. No judgment though. I’m not going to shame your kinks.”

The vein grew. The teacher forced out, trying to keep his composure, “Why did you come back? You have a different class to go to. Not that you seem to care about your education.”

“But I do care. I just didn’t miss much.”

“Really? Tell me then, if you’re so confident in your education, what are the spore clusters under fern leaves called?”

Now why would this be important to know? Was this information going to get him a job in the future? He ran his tongue against the back of his teeth. He thought about it because it felt like he took this class before. A flash of memory came to mind of a cheat sheet he had on the inside of a water bottle wrapper. He could see a blurred-out word with what probably was the answer. What a weird memory that appeared, but, hey, he wasn’t going to complain.

“Sori,” he finally said. The teacher nodded as if he had expected him to know that, but then Castor continued, “Sori that you couldn’t come up with a better question for me. You go flaunting a copy of your diploma on the wall and you even went and got yourself a doctorate. With those questions, it’s no wonder why you’re stuck teaching at a high school instead of college.”

Gasps rang out across the room as students’ mouths were left wide open. They soon curved into smiles and some students even started to chuckle. Out of everyone in the class, Ponyboy was the last person they expected to say stuff like that. Good thing that Castor wasn’t him. The teacher’s face started to turn redder than a beet.

“Excuse you?” he gasped, aghast. He glared at someone who cheered Castor on.

“You heard me. What… are you deaf too? We’re just finding out all sorts of things about you today.”

“You—You—” The teacher pointed at him. “How dare you say that to me? You don’t get to speak to me like that! I should send you to the principal’s office.”

“No need,” a sudden voice interrupted. Castor felt a cold hand on his shoulder that sent instant chills down his spine. Mr. Flannigan stood behind him (somehow, he got there without Castor even detecting him) with a smile on his lips. The strong scent of cinnamon invaded his nose and stung his sinuses. “I’ll take him off of your hands. He was supposed to be in my class now anyway.”

Castor knew Ponyboy’s schedule by heart and he was sure that Mr. Flannigan’s class wasn’t next. But if he wanted to get out of this situation without giving Ponyboy detention, then he was going to have to go along with it. His biology teacher was steaming from the ears. He could tell that he wasn’t about to let him get off that easily. What a shame.

“He needs to go straight to the office and be paddled. This boy disrespected me! He can’t go unpunished for all the crude words he used!” the biology teacher argued. Castor scoffed. What a lie. He only used one crude word.

“And now he’s my student. I won’t let it go, don’t worry. If that’s not enough for you, then I’ll be happy to discuss this further with you later,” Mr. Flannigan calmly replied. The two teachers had a stare-off, but something must have unnerved the biology teacher. Whatever happened, Castor didn’t see it. The next thing he knew, the biology teacher was looking anywhere but at them and sweat was falling from his temples. Mr. Flannigan then bent down and addressed Castor, “Get your bag and we can get out of here.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Castor quickly shouldered Ponyboy’s bag and followed behind Mr. Flannigan to the march of one student’s claps. When they were far enough away, Castor hesitantly asked, “Am I in trouble?”

Mr. Flannigan shook his head and opened the door to his classroom for him. It was empty for the period. “Not at all, but you have to watch what you say and do, okay? You never know what trouble you’ll find yourself in.”

Oh, Mr. Flannigan had no idea. Castor could have laughed. “Anyway, thanks, man.”

That caused the teacher to look at him funny. Guess he really needed to heed his advice and sound more like Ponyboy. “Are you doing alright? You’re not sounding like yourself.” He looked around and added, “Where’s that ghost of yours?”

“He’s somewhere.” Castor shrugged. “I haven’t seen him much today.”

“So, do you think you’ll see him after school?” Mr. Flannigan’s eyebrow raised in interest.

“Maybe. I’ll probably be walking around all day or something. Don’t know, but anyway. Thanks again for the help. I want to start my walk.” He wasn’t about to waste his time at school.

“What do you mean? There’s still school left.”

Castor grinned cheekily. “Students are going to be leaving soon anyway.”

He left the class, feeling Mr. Flannigan’s eyes follow him out. On his way to the front door, he pulled down the fire alarm. A shrill shriek filled the entire school and Castor picked up his pace so he wouldn’t get caught in the crowd of evacuating students. He readjusted the backpack, thinking about what he should do next. Food sounded good. He would kill to eat some fries right about now.

He never got fries in the end. He started off walking to a diner, but his legs started to carry him elsewhere. It didn’t take too long to walk from his school to where all the nice Soc houses were.

“What are you doing over here?” he heard. Castor almost ignored it because he didn’t think they were talking to him. He continued on his walk until another sentence came out. “Pony’s got his head in the cloud again.”

Castor finally looked over his shoulder and saw that it was Johnny and Dally, so he addressed them as such, “Johnny and Dally, right?”

“Yeah…” Dally slowly said, looking at him strangely. He huffed. “Why did you say it like that?”

“What do you mean?”

Johnny stared long and hard into his eyes and Castor shivered, trying to look away from the calculating gaze. It seemed like he could see right through him. And trust him, he knew exactly what that felt like. He felt his back straighten up. From what he remembered, Johnny was Ponyboy’s best friend, but he wondered if he would be able to tell that his friend wasn’t, well, him anymore. No way he would. He might be his friend, but seeing through Castor’s disguise would be too impressive of a feat. Unbelievably though, Johnny caught onto him very quickly.

“You’re not Ponyboy,” Johnny said, sending another wave of shivers down his spine. Dang. Might as well give him a medal for being able to figure it out.

“No, I’m not. I’m his twin brother,” Castor said in all seriousness. The two of them didn’t believe him. He could see it in their eyes.

“Are you Castor?” Ding. Ding. Ding. Johnny got two right in a row. Castor could only shrug and smile at him sheepishly.

“Hold up,” Dally interrupted, raising a finger and crumpling his eyebrows until lines appeared on his forehead. “You’re not Ponyboy?”

“Obviously not,” Castor said, rolling his eyes.

Dally exhaled loudly, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re really not the kid.”

“Geez. What gave it away?”

“Ponyboy wouldn’t mouth off like that, you f*cker. Tell me what you did with him. Where is he?”

Sensing the danger, Castor instantly raised his arms. Dally’s sharp eyes could kill him if he wanted them to do so. He wasn’t sure if the greaser would be able to harm him, but he didn’t want to doubt it for a second. “Whoa! I didn’t do anything to him!”

“Yeah? Then what is this, man? Why do you look like Ponyboy?”

“He possessed him, Dally,” Johnny provided. “He took over his body.”

“He did what now?” Dally’s eyes became darker, and Castor confirmed that he was going to die for a second time. He gulped.

“Before you say anything else, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to possess him. Hell, I don’t even know how I did it. I’ve already tried to get out, but nothing worked,” Castor explained.

“You need to get out.”

Castor huffed. “Like I said. I’ve already tried.”

“How many times did you try?” Johnny questioned.

“A few times.”

“Just a few times?”

“Never done this before. I ran out of ideas so now I’m just going to take advantage of this situation to live my life.”

No, you’re taking advantage of Ponyboy, Johnny wanted to say. Seeing the doubt, Castor continued, “I’m still trying to get out, but I’m not all and powerful. So, unless you guys have any bright ideas, I might be stuck here for a while.”

He could tell that Dally was one sassy comment away from socking him. He wondered why he hadn’t tried yet. Maybe he knew that he couldn’t do anything but embarrass himself if he tried. Dally probably couldn’t lift objects like he could yet. It made him want to push how far he could go.

“Ponyboy would never talk to Dal like this,” Johnny mumbled.

“That’s because I’m not him,” Castor said.

“I know.” Johnny looked around, finally processing where they were. “Hey, what are you doing over here anyway?”

Castor wasn’t quite sure himself. He had walked there on autopilot. He placed a hand on his chin and looked around at all the houses, feeling a sense of familiarity. That’s when his eyes landed on one with an open garage. A ball of nostalgia hit him square in the face as memories of him running around the lawn and rolling around in the dirt came forth. There was a car in the driveway and an older couple slipped out, causing his breath to hitch in his throat.

Mom and Dad, his brain supplied, the words almost leaving his mouth. Suddenly, faces started to be placed on figures in some of his memories.

“Castor?” he heard Johnny call out, but he ignored them as he stepped onto the street to run over to them. To get a hug and feel their warmth again. To feel their kisses on his forehead and their words of affirmation that everything will be okay again. He had a body now. He could do that. He could—

A car sped down the street towards him and Castor barely had enough time to process what was happening.

“Ponyboy!” he heard Johnny yell, getting his name wrong because all he could see was his best friend in the street about to get hit.

“Move, dumbass!” Dally bellowed.

Every muscle in his body stiffened. His knees creaked as it caught his forward range of motion and shifted it backward so Castor could stumble away just in time. The car seemed to pick up speed right before it passed inches away from him, almost running over his toes. A normal person would have yelled profanities at the driver. The guy obviously saw him and tried to mow him down. But Castor only felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

His eyes followed the vehicle—a red Thunderbird that had a few, unfortunate dents in it and large scratches in the paint. He couldn’t see who was driving but his eyes fell upon the license plate, PR-0452. His mind spun, mouth becoming dry as memories of this exact vehicle invaded his mind.

One moment he was standing on the road and the next thing he knew his brain was taking him on a run through a dark, empty street that was only lit up by streetlights. In it, he was screaming for help and stopping at each door he passed by, but all that was in the area were stores that had long since been closed down for the night. The car was following after him, picking up speed. Eventually, he gave up on asking for help and attempted to just run away. He dove to the side when the car almost crashed into him, causing him to land painfully on the asphalt. It screeched to a stop and a figure got out, leaving Castor to wonder what he had done to deserve this. But he knew he had seen something he shouldn’t have and another push back into the past confirmed it when he saw a limp hand sticking out from an open trunk of that Thunderbird.

That was where his memory got cut off. He was still standing in the middle of the road. His hands trembled and his fingers pressed into his palms. His parents were now looking at him from the driveway, but they didn’t approach or say anything.

Holy crap. He just saw the moments that led up to his death. Not only that, but his killer just tried to murder Ponyboy by making it seem like a hit-and-run. Castor had wanted to leave Ponyboy out of this, but it might have been too late for that. If the killer—it had to be Peter—went after Ponyboy specifically, then he saw him back in the park and knew him. Thoughts on why Peter couldn’t have taken care of it in the bathroom flooded his brain before he realized that he was only thinking about Ponyboy. He could have been thinking about himself.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, now in front of him, snapping him from his thoughts.

“What was that? Did you forget that cars can’t go through you anymore?” Dally asked as well. “I swear if you get the kid killed…”

When Castor didn’t respond, still calming down from the adrenaline, Johnny followed up with, “What’s wrong?”

“I recognize that car,” Castor answered. His throat felt closed off. “I’m pretty sure that was the person who killed me.”

“What?” They all looked down the street to where the car sped to, but it was long gone. Castor looked back at his parents who were still watching him warily. He thought about going over to them like he was about to before but thought against it. He couldn’t do it, as much as he wanted to. Not in Ponyboy’s body. It didn’t feel right. They probably will lash out at him when they recognize his voice.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered under his breath.

He was left a fork in the road, but the only direction he could take was the way he came from, back toward the Curtis’s house with Johnny and Dally now at his side.

Chapter 15: Not Ponyboy

Chapter Text

For a short amount of time, Castor felt like he was on top of the world. He had a body and was finally seen by other people. He was given the ability to do the things that he missed doing. But he guessed that he was a ghost a little too long because the moment he got to Ponyboy’s house, he walked straight into the door. He took a step back and rubbed his reddening nose with a curse.

“How many times do we have to tell you? You’re not a ghost right now,” Dally snarked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Castor sighed and waved his hand to pass the comment off. “I get it. Forgive me for forgetting. Fuuuck, that hurt.”

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked. “You sure hit the door hard.”

“I’m fine. Just give me a second.”

“Just go in, man,” Dally said when Castor stayed still for more than thirty seconds. He was about to just go into the house himself. He didn’t have to wait for Castor. “What are you waiting for?”

Castor pouted. “I’m wounded.”

Dally gave him a cold look. “Toughen up.”

“I’m going. Jeez. No sympathy for the injured.” With that, Castor finally opened the door and saw Steve, Soda, and Darry there. They were already looking at him so they most likely heard him run into the wall and then talk to people that they couldn’t see themselves. Instead of feeling bashful, Castor leaned his weight onto one foot and nodded his head. “Hey.”

He was met with silence from them, so he awkwardly pressed his mouth into a thin line and commented under his breath, “Okay, tough crowd.”

“I wish they could see us,” Johnny said sadly. He was standing close to Steve, and even though he was so close, nobody noticed him. Castor knew exactly what that was like and it wasn’t fun. Johnny’s eyes grew sad. “I miss them.”

“Man, this sucks,” Dally groaned. “Finally get here and they can’t even see us.”

“So, you’re finally talking to us,” Darry said, and, at first Castor was confused. He didn’t know what he was talking about, but then he remembered that Ponyboy and the gang weren’t on the best terms at the moment.

“Ah,” he hummed to himself. He had totally forgotten, too caught up in his euphoric moment. Well, shoot. No wonder why it was so awkward.

Johnny got back to his side and leaned closer towards him, having their reunion with the gang cut short due to the veil between the living and the dead. He whispered despite them not being able to hear him, “What’s Darry talking about? Did something happen with Ponyboy and them?”

Castor looked over at him. “He didn’t leave things in good places with them. Practically a whole silent treatment. Mostly with Soda.”

“What?” Johnny frowned, surprised. “Ponyboy wouldn’t do that to Soda.”

“I’ll say,” Dally piped in. “That’s a load of crap.”

“He was going through a lot at the time.” And a lot of stuff with him. It was partially his fault it had happened, but he wasn’t going to tell them that. “There was a whole thing with Soda… actually all of them. They didn’t believe him, and he got depressed.”

“He has to stop having sissy fits with them.”

“All he wanted was for them to believe him,” Castor was quick to defend, narrowing his eyes at Dally who only challenged that expression tenfold.

“But this isn’t right,” Johnny said. “There shouldn’t be this separation. We have to do something.”

As much as Castor wanted to help Ponyboy with repairing his burnt bridges, he couldn’t help but think that it was a bad idea. It shouldn’t be him to rebuild damaged bonds, but Ponyboy himself. There wouldn’t be a point to this if he did it for him. And it would only be awkward when Ponyboy takes control of his body again. He shook his head. “He has to be the one who does it.”

“Who are you talking to? There’s no one there again,” Steve commented, and Castor felt Ponyboy’s irritation deep in his soul. So much so that he almost shot unfriendly words back at him. Instead, he sighed deeply.

“You’re not a ghost right now,” Dally reminded, annoyed that Castor was still making the same mistakes.

“It’s okay,” Castor said. “They’re used to him talking to thin air at this point. This was what he wanted them to believe.”

“Well, he needs to lay low. He’s not playing smart.”

Castor rolled his eyes and sighed to himself, “There’s just no pleasing you…”

“And he’s ignoring us again,” Steve rolled his eyes.

Having two conversations at once was getting annoying. He didn’t know how Ponyboy managed it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nostrils. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“What changed your mind? I thought you didn’t want to talk to any of us,” Darry asked, crossing his arms.

Castor hummed. “I always wanted to talk to you but never could. This is the first time.”

The gang looked at him weirdly before Steve scoffed, “What the f*ck does that mean?”

“It means you may or may not be talking to him.”

Now they were even more confused. “Is this supposed to be some kind of riddle?”

Castor shook his head. “Not really, but here’s a riddle for you: What’s ghastly when they wake up and hungry when they get home?”

“What?” Soda said, playing along with it. Ponyboy was acting weird. That was easy to tell. Soda wasn’t quite sure what to make of all of this, but he was just glad that his brother was speaking to him again. He wanted to keep it that way.

“Me. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Castor pushed through them and went to the kitchen. While he was shuffling through the fridge and cabinets, he heard the gang talk about how weird he was acting and something about alcohol. He could feel their eyes stare into his back.

Castor clicked his tongue when he found nothing enticing to eat. He originally wanted fries, but when he didn’t get that, he wanted something salty and savory. There was hardly any food left in the cabinets since Darry hadn’t gone shopping yet.

He was just going to have to settle.

He grabbed a bowl and started to pour in milk which wasn’t very weird, but the gang was watching him like a hawk, trying to find out what was wrong with him and why he was acting so different all of a sudden.

“Do we have a stray cat around?” Soda asked.

Castor raised an eyebrow, “No? I just wanted cereal?”

“Then why the milk?” Steve questioned.

“Because you need milk with cereal?” Was he supposed to eat it without it? Did he commit some sort of household crime? For cereal?

“He’s talking about you putting milk before the cereal and not after it, man,” Dally explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why are you eating it like that?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve said.

Ponyboy looked at Johnny. If there was anyone he would listen to in the house, it would be him. He asked, “Is it really that weird?”

“You can eat it how you like but it’s not how we eat it,” Johnny answered tentatively, and Castor wanted to slap his forehead. Jesus Christ, Castor was weird. Johnny was just too nice to say that to him.

“It’s fine. I’ve never seen you eat it like that before. But this all reminds me that I need to add cereal to my shopping list,” Darry answered. “I was going to go when you got back from school. How’d your day go by the way?”

“It was fun. The fire alarm went off,” Castor replied, already bored of this conversation. He lifted the cereal with his spoon, finding that more interesting than this topic.

“Oh? Was there a fire?”

“No, but one could have started with how much smoke was coming out of my bio teacher’s ears.”

Darry gave him a look. “You didn’t do anything, did you?”

Castor rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, but didn't answer so Darry said, “We are going to have to talk about that silent treatment of yours.”

Castor shook his head, “No.”

“No?” Darry’s vein started to pop on his forehead. “How could you say no?”

“I mean that you would have to do it later. Just not now.”

“If not now, when?” Darry demanded.

“When you’re not talking to me.”

The vein grew even larger. “Excuse me?”

“It would all make sense if you would just believe. Can I eat my food now? It’s getting soggy.”

Soda was quick to interject the upcoming conflict. He stood between them and tried his best to de-escalate everything, “We need to wait. He’s not ready to talk about it. Let’s not pressure him right now. What if he goes silent again?”

That seemed to halt Darry. He pointed at Castor and argued, “Fine, but he needs to understand that he can’t speak to me that way.”

Man, this wasn’t very fun at all. He missed talking with Ponyboy so much. The gang was boring to him. They didn’t humor any of his jokes and were only trying to constrict him. They nitpicked on anything they could find. When he was a ghost, he thought they were fun to be around with how rambunctious they were, but now that he was talking to them, he wasn’t very sure about that anymore.

He leaned on the back two legs of his chair and stared at the ceiling. Castor sighed deeply. That only seemed to rile Darry up again. He snapped, “Are you bored right now?”

“Darry,” Soda warned then turned to Ponyboy and ushered him to use the chair correctly. “Be careful not to hurt yourself and finish your food, okay?”

Fine. Castor sat straight and rested his cheek on his palm as he finally took a bite of the cereal.

It tasted so good, but he couldn’t enjoy it one bit, and he didn’t know why. Could the taste be that different when bored or was he missing something else?

When he finished, he grudgingly went to wash his bowl.

“What’s got your mood down?” Dally asked.

“I’m bored,” Castor mumbled for only them to hear.

Dally nodded in agreement. “I’m about ready to blow this place too.”

It wasn’t that he thought this place was boring. That wasn’t the source of his boredom. Johnny stared at him with those puppy dog-like eyes. He said, “Is it Ponyboy?”

There was nothing that went past him. Castor chuckled under his breath, “I guess so. It feels different talking to him; more fun. I don’t know why this is different, but it is. I want to talk to him, and I need to tell him stuff.”

Both Johnny and Dally looked at him like they figured something out about him. But then their eyes shifted behind him. Before he could ask them what they were looking at, two hands suddenly clamped onto his shoulders and a voice yelled into his ears, “I’m going to get you good, greaser.”

Castor’s heart leaped out of his throat. His eyes went wide and it felt like his breath had been stolen. Suddenly, the world began to spin around him, which was weird since he wasn’t the type that got easily spooked. He wondered how this affected him to this extent.

He swayed on his feet and he could barely make out the concerned looks from the gang. They were asking him questions, but their voices were muffled as if he had been dunked underwater. The hands let go of his shoulders, yet he hardly noticed them doing so. Every part of him was telling him to get out and to do whatever he could to do so.

“Are you alright,” he heard Soda ask him.

“Just peachy,” Castor said, feeling like he was talking with a swollen tongue, and it probably sounded that way too. He gave them a thumbs up (or maybe it was a thumbs down; he couldn’t tell). “I feel great. Amazing.”

He did not feel great.

“Castor?” Johnny spoke up, worry evident in his voice. “What’s going on?”

“It was only a joke,” Two-Bit defended, taking another step away from him.

“Yeah, why are you acting like that?” Dally piped up, but still watched him in concern. Or maybe he was watching Ponyboy in concern and didn’t care about him.

“What’s wrong?” Darry asked when Castor felt his knees give out. The carpet felt like it was prickling his skin where it touched, but that wasn’t his concern. Again, there was a wave of dizziness that hit him, and his soul felt like it was being ripped out of the body he was in. He knew then that Ponyboy was starting to reclaim his body and evict Castor from it. Honestly? Good, Ponyboy can take it back. Whatever would make Castor not feel this way anymore.

A whimper escaped his lips as he pressed his palms into his temples. Darkness started to creep on the sides of his vision before blackening it out, and then Castor was flung out of Pony’s body like he had been picked up by the scruff of his shirt like he was some kitten. He watched as Pony’s body fell completely face flat on the ground.

The numbing feeling that Castor knew all too well started to come back and he already missed being able to feel.

“My head…” Ponyboy groaned. He rubbed at it. It felt like someone was conducting an icepick lobotomy on him. He pushed his body back up, closing his eyes to ease some of the discomfort. A hand touched his shoulder and tried to steady him, but it only made him want to hurl.

“Are you okay?” Soda asked worriedly, he shook his shoulders. “Tell us what we can do to help, Pony!”

“I’m okay. Stop shaking me, will you?”

The shaking stopped and Ponyboy was finally able to get his bearings back. He looked around at the worried faces of everyone and he wondered how he got back to his place since the last thing he remembered was going to the bathroom at school. He blinked heavily.

“What happened?” he muttered, looking up at Castor for answers.

“You just got dizzy and collapsed,” Two-Bit answered but Ponyboy ignored him because that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

“I knew there was something wrong with you. You come into this house, acting all weird. Did you drink or something? I swear to God, Ponyboy, if you drank alcohol and got drunk—” Darry growled.

“I’m not drunk,” Ponyboy slurred, which didn’t help his case.

Castor hesitated. He rubbed the back of his neck and answered Ponyboy’s question, “You were about to get attacked and I ended up… possessing you.”

Ponyboy’s mouth parted before it closed again. It looked like he was still processing the info, so Castor added, “I hope you’re not mad…”

Should he be? Probably. Having your body possessed unsolicited should have made a normal person angry, but Ponyboy wasn’t at all for some reason. He gave Castor a small, gentle smile, causing his eyes to grow soft and despite things being still a bit blurry, he could see him clearly. He shook his head. “No, not at all. Did you have fun?”

Cute, was the word that Castor’s head supplied when he saw the expression Ponyboy gave him. Why did that expression have to be so adorable? He could feel butterflies in his stomach which he quickly blamed on residual feelings from the possession. He smiled brightly back. “I did.”

“Hello? You still on this planet, kid?” Steve asked, waving a hand in front of his face. Ponyboy glared at him. “You ignoring us again?”

So… Castor spoke with them, Ponyboy mulled. He guessed it was time to talk to them again anyway. “I’m dizzy, what would you like me to do?”

“A flip,” Castor laughed, happy that Ponyboy was alright. He laughed harder when the other boy discreetly flipped him off and gave him an I’ll-show-you-a-flip look.

“You had us worried there,” Darry said.

“I just didn’t get enough sleep.”

“Castor’s not possessing you anymore,” Johnny marveled and Ponyboy almost spun around.

“Johnny and Dally?” he said. He hadn’t even noticed they were there. Come to think of it, ever since they passed, he hadn’t seen them in his house before. He would have to thank Castor for leading them here. “What are you two doing here?”

Before they could answer, however, he was whirled around by Darry. In an instant, the eldest brother’s worry for him vanished and was replaced by another emotion. His grip on his shoulders was so tight that they would leave bruises later on. He winced involuntarily. Darry’s eyes bore into him as he snapped, “Who did you just say were there? Johnny and Dally? Why did you say that?”

“B-Because they’re right there,” Ponyboy answered, voice shaking. He thought that maybe they would believe him finally, but he knew better than to get his hopes up. The look of rage on Darry’s face proved that.

The grip on his shoulder became tighter. “They’re not here.”

The younger brother refused to waiver. “Yes, they are.”

“No, Ponyboy. They’re not! How many times do I need to run this by you for you to understand? They’re dead.”

“I know they are!” Ponyboy dug his nails into his palms. He clenched his jaw. “I know more than anyone else. Golly, Darry, I was there when both of them died. I know they’re dead!”

“Then why can’t you move on?”

“We’re right here,” Dally said, irritated.

“Then why can’t you believe me?” Darry’s nose scrunched up like a violent dog. The grip on his shoulders was starting to hurt and flashbacks of when Darry had hit him came to mind. He flinched and his lips trembled. “Darry, you’re hurting me.”

As soon as he said that, something happened. One of the lightbulbs blew out and everyone jumped. Darry let go of his shoulder and Ponyboy felt himself being pulled backward by Castor whose eyes were sharp and cold. His arm was draped over his chest protectively.

“Don’t get out of control,” Ponyboy begged him, knowing the extent of what he could do when angered.

“That wasn’t me,” was all Castor said and Ponyboy attention shifted to Johnny and Dally. From the surprised looks on their faces, they probably didn’t know what happened, but the question was, who did it? His first thought was Dally. It was the obvious choice. Dally was more dangerous when he was alive; more unpredictable. But then he thought that maybe it was Johnny, whose residual energy must have been strong after his entire life was spent holding everything in. Thinking about it too much just made him dizzier.

“Wonder how that happened,” Two-Bit commented.

“Ponyboy, you alright?” Soda asked. Ponyboy nodded. Seeing how he was still shaky, Soda wrapped an arm around Ponyboy’s shoulder, forcing Castor to move away. “Why don’t we go to our room? You collapsed earlier. Steve, grab Pony’s bag.”

“Why?” Steve questioned, raising an eyebrow. “He has two working legs.”

“Just grab it, alright? I don’t want him to fall on the glass.”

Steve huffed, knowing that Soda was firm about this. “Fine.”

“Do you want us to come?” Johnny asked.

“It’s probably best you don’t right now,” Castor answered even though he knew that Ponyboy did want to talk to them. He didn’t want to overload him too much. The ghost followed them to the bedroom.

Soda helped Ponyboy sit down on his bed and the younger brother instantly slouched down and rested his head on his palms, his elbows pressing against the tops of his knees. His head was still pounding like a motherf*cker, and he wondered if this was what a hangover felt like. Today had been one event after the next and he had a lot to think about, but what was on his mind the most was how scary Darry looked just then. He hated how he and others refused to believe him no matter what, and yet, Ponyboy also understood how frustrating it must have been for them. It wasn’t easy to believe anything they weren’t able to see.

The door opened and Steve stepped in with Ponyboy’s backpack. He said, “Got the kid’s bag. What did you put in it? Rocks?”

“No,” Ponyboy huffed.

Steve opened it and started to shift through everything inside. “Why are you carrying all of these books?”

“I need them for school.”

“But do you need to bring your sketchbook?” He pulled it out and held it in front of him like it was a used tissue. “I don’t see that increasing your knowledge.”

If Ponyboy was feeling any better, he would have swiped it away, but he could only retort, “Oh, would you quit messing with me?”

“I can take it from here,” Soda interrupted, grabbing the sketchbook from his friend. Steve dropped the bag and left soon after but Soda kept the sketchbook in his hands. “Do you have anything new in here?”

“You can look through it if you want,” Ponyboy said dismissively. With a small smile, Soda started to flip through the book, recognizing some of the older pieces in it. Castor went over to take a look as well. There weren’t many newer entries because he just hadn’t had enough time. Soda flipped to the last page, the drawing of Castor, and stopped.

“Even though it’s smudged, I still look good,” Castor whistled.

“Who’s this?” Soda asked, holding it up. Ponyboy could feel his ears become red. He had forgotten that was in there. He probably wouldn’t have shown Soda if he had remembered because he didn’t know how he was supposed to explain the random drawing of a guy. Seeing how flustered he was, Castor moved back to Ponyboy’s side, standing in front of him and blocking the view of Soda. Without thinking, he reached over and ran a hand through his hair. The cool fingers brought a bit of relief but it wasn’t much help against the blush that only grew a deeper shade. Ponyboy leaned into the touch without realizing it. Castor smiled at him, remembering the feeling of Ponyboy’s hair when he was possessing the boy. “Ponyboy?”

“That’s Castor,” Ponyboy finally answered, locking eyes with the ghost. He moved his head away from the touch.

“The friend you have?” Soda almost tripped and said imaginary. “This is what he looks like.”

“Mhmm.”

Soda started to observe the picture even closer. It looked like he wanted to say something—probably nothing that would make him happy—but held it back and said something else instead. “It’s a good drawing of him. He’s a handsome guy.”

Castor gasped, releasing Pony’s hair to look at Soda with sparkling eyes. “A compliment about my looks? I knew I looked good.”

Ponyboy rolled his eyes and said under his breath, “You have too much vanity.”

“Who else would compliment my looks? You don’t do it enough.”

“Vanity?” Soda repeated, tilting his head to the side.

“I was talking to Castor.”

“He’s here right now?” He was always there, he wanted to say. Instead, Pony just nodded. Soda rubbed the edges of the sketchbook uncomfortably before he handed it back to him. He smiled, although this time it seemed more forced than other times. He placed the back of his hand on Pony’s forehead. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We can talk more in the morning when I get back.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Ponyboy asked. It was still the middle of the day.

“I’m meeting up with Maggie.” Oh, right, the girlfriend. So much stuff has happened that Ponyboy almost forgot about her which was surprising seeing how much he didn’t get along with her. He looked into Soda’s eyes to see if he had that same lovestruck look he had when he was with Sandy, but after a close examination, he couldn’t find that same glimmer. It had been several months since she left him yet Ponyboy had the feeling that he still wasn’t over her. He was more guarded, and it was obvious (and luckily) that he didn’t love Maggie yet.

“Do you like Maggie?” Ponyboy asked.

“I like her,” Soda answered after a few long moments.

The younger brother chewed on the insides of his cheeks. He glanced at Castor again who now was nonchalantly leaning against the wall, looking just as cool as he did the first day he met him. He wondered what it was like to like someone. Pony had always assumed that feelings for people would just come to him—that sort of love at first sight that characters in books always had. He waited and waited some more. He thought that maybe it was a puberty thing, but when he hit that, he still didn’t feel the same things toward girls.

Maybe liking someone had a different feeling. Ponyboy then wondered if Castor knew what it was like to like someone in that sense. That thought created a pit in his stomach. For some reason, just thinking about Castor liking someone that way made him upset. “How do you know if you like someone?”

Soda looked surprised at that question. His eyes followed Ponyboy’s line of sight. His eyes shifted back down to the drawing that was still open on Pony’s lap. Gears clicked yet he didn’t want to believe his assumption to be true. But maybe he was wrong and Ponyboy was finally interested in a girl. Maybe it was Angela Shepard, who had her eyes on him for quite some time.

Soda thought about his past and a goofy grin formed on his face. That lovestruck look was back and Ponyboy wondered who he was thinking of.

“You just realize it,” Soda started. “You want to do things for them… with them… and more. You get excited whenever you see them, and you want to touch them and be close… hug them… kiss them… hold their hand. They’re in your head all the time no matter what it is. You don’t want them to look at anyone but you. And when you get in that relationship, it’s real nice.”

Ponyboy touched where Castor had run his fingers through his hair. It tingled still and he longed to feel it again. Liking someone was like that? It was more complex than he thought and yet it also wasn’t. He thought about all the times he could have felt that way and wondered if he wanted to do all of those things with Castor. His mind felt a bit fuzzy and his cheeks reddened when he imagined doing all of that with him. Did he want to do that with him?

Somehow, he was even more confused than ever. Castor made eye contact with him and Ponyboy swore he saw his cheeks were slightly tinted.

“Don’t think you’ll tell me who the lucky girl is?” And just like that, the balloon popped. Ponyboy wanted to slap himself in the forehead. What was he thinking? Why was he thinking about liking Castor that way? He shouldn’t be thinking that at all. There were so many things wrong with it.

First of all, Castor was a guy. G-U-Y. Ponyboy was supposed to be attracted to girls like everyone else. Second of all, even when gender was placed aside, did Castor even like him that way? His liking him was one thing. What were the chances of it being reciprocated? Castor probably couldn’t even feel the emotions associated with liking someone at all anymore. The last he checked, he only was able to feel vengeance and anger. At one point, he felt sadness though… so maybe…

But the biggest issue was number three. Castor was dead. He didn’t have a physical body and wasn’t able to be seen by other people. And even if he did fall for him, Castor wasn’t going to stick around forever. They were trying to figure out his death to help him move on. Although they were currently at a hard pause with it, one day, if they succeed, he won’t be there anymore. And if not that, what if one day, Ponyboy loses his ability to see him? His heart clenched painfully. He didn’t know how he would take either of them. He tore his eyes away and snapped the sketchbook shut.

“Just wondering, is all,” Ponyboy sighed. Soda nodded.

“Anyway, I better get going now,” Soda said, stretching his back. “Get a good rest, okay?”

That was impossible now. Christ, he wished that Soda could see Castor. Maybe that would solve one of his problems. “Hey, Soda?”

“Yeah?”

“I was telling the truth, you know that, right? I really can see ghosts. I can see Johnny and Dally too. I wasn’t lying. Can’t you just take my word?”

“Ponyboy…” Soda looked unsure. He sighed. “Just get some sleep.”

Of course, he didn’t answer his question. The moment he opened back up to them, nothing had changed. Soda and the gang would rather talk to him about normal things. They didn’t know how to talk to a freak like him. “Goodnight, Soda.”

Perhaps he said that too bitterly because Soda flinched. He opened his mouth to say something else but decided against it and left. Ponyboy sighed again. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It was finally silent, helping with his headache. But that was short-lived because Castor decided to talk.

“About the thing that I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t think you’re safe anymore. He tried to kill you when I possessed you; tried to run you down with his car. I saw his license plate, PR-0452.”

Of course, there was still that. Ponyboy rubbed his eyes with his palms. He definitely couldn’t rest now. He sat back up and said, “Okay, tell me more.”

Chapter 16: Found You Six Feet Under

Chapter Text

Ponyboy knew that he was somehow going to get involved in the case again. As he listened to Castor, he could already feel the dread. He licked at his chapped lips as he digested all the information that was fed to him.

This was seriously too much for one day.

“So, what’s our plan now?” Castor asked after his millionth apology for bringing him back into this. Ponyboy wondered why he had to be the one who thought of the game plan. He could hardly figure out what he was going to eat in the mornings and with this brain fog he had, it probably was a no-go.

“Well…” Ponyboy trailed in thought, but he seriously couldn’t think of anything. He then wondered what the connection between all of the victims was. It couldn’t have been random. If there was a connection, Castor might have been the only outlier.

That was the moment that Johnny and Dally decided to slip into his room. Ponyboy’s face instantly lit up.

“Are you feeling better?” Johnny asked with a small smile.

“Yeah,” Ponyboy answered, leaning forward. “Just lost my bearings when I got my body back.”

“You had us all shocked.”

“I was too when Castor told me what happened.” He then turned to Castor and continued teasingly, “I still can’t believe that you almost got found out because you pour milk before your cereal.”

Castor puffed out his chest and huffed pridefully, “But I wasn’t found out.”

“That’s because they don’t believe me.” But as soon as he said that, Pony’s mood dampened. He remembered that there were still more pressing matters at hand. His eyes glazed over, and his smile dropped so quickly that the other three became worried. There was no time to joke around about anything. Things were concluding at a neck-breaking speed. He looked at Dally. Maybe he would know what to do. He always had his back no matter what and he helped Johnny and him without a second thought in the past. He was the best person that Ponyboy knew when it came to stuff like this. “Someone’s trying to kill me.”

“Wow. Just ripped the bandage straight off,” Castor chuckled, surprised at the sudden shift. “No warning whatsoever. Came out of the blue.”

It didn’t take too long for Dally to process what he said. He probably was already expecting it since he was with Castor when the car tried to run him over.

“Damn,” Dally sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t joke about how fast the topic changed like Castor had. Instead, he stayed relatively cool, if not a bit stressed. “Okay, explain everything to me.”

“Just like that? Man, if I were to say that, he probably would have punched me. The guy is more protective of you than I thought,” Castor whistled quietly. So, Ponyboy explained the entire situation to them and Castor pitched in every once in a while. He felt bad when he saw Johnny become pale.

“And now we don’t know what to do,” Ponyboy finished when the explanation was completed.

Again, Dally ran his hands through his hair.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out. “I thought the murder rap was crazy enough.”

Ponyboy shifted so he would be sitting on his hands. He hunched his shoulders. “So, do you have an idea of what we can do?”

“Well, either you get out of here and run.” Not doing that option. It was slightly different, but he already knew running was no good from experience. “Or you can stop him before he gets to you. He wouldn’t be expecting a thing. We can’t wait around, you dig?”

Or he could already be expecting it. It could go either way. What if Peter was waiting for him to go to him? Either way, they had to do something. Dally was right on that. They couldn’t sit around and wait for him to get murdered.

Johnny made a face but didn’t say anything until Ponyboy asked, “What are you thinking, Johnnycakes?”

“I don’t think we should do that,” Johnny admitted. “Let’s call the cops. Let’s have them handle it.”

“With what proof?” Castor brought up, probably a bit too harshly. “We don’t have anything but Ponyboy’s word.”

“We have to try! We can’t put Pony through all of this. We can’t, don’t you see? We can’t! We can’t—” His voice suddenly cut short; the sound strained at the throat. His face scrunched up in pain and before all of their eyes, they saw burn marks spread across his skin like a wildfire. The temperature dropped dramatically until Ponyboy’s breath started to show.

“What the f*ck is happening?” Dally barked.

“A ghost loop,” Castor explained with a frown. “It happens sometimes when you know how you died. Nothing much we can do.”

“Okay? Tell me what it is!”

“It’s when a ghost repeats their past. He’s not actually feeling pain. He’s just going through the memories of his final moments.”

Dally’s jaw clenched as tightly as his fists. “You’re telling me that there’s not one thing that can be done?”

“Johnny….” Ponyboy started, going through his own version of a loop. Back then, Johnny decided to turn himself in. He realized that it would have been better for everyone that way, but he never got the chance to in the end. Just looking at the burn marks froze him up and it was like he was dragged into the past by his ankles, back to the fire that scorched his skin and the suffocating smoke that filled his lungs and clouded his vision. He could even still feel where that kid bit him.

He didn’t get very injured himself, but he thought he was going to die in there. It made him come to a crashing realization that he wasn’t invincible.

It burned. The flames were high and the smoke was so dark as if the primordial goddess Nyx made just the building a pitch-black night. Children were crying and he was only hear the flames that burned the wood.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back with an inhale of breath. He instinctively covered the hand with his own, feeling that familiar tingle. Ponyboy gave Castor a small smile as thanks. He let it drop when he turned back to Johnny and tried to soothe him, “Okay, we’ll go to the cops. We’ll do this your way. Okay, Johnny? We’ll get the cops involved.”

Johnny nodded as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Ponyboy continued to give him reassuring words; tried whatever he could to get his mind away from the fire. His hands were shaking, but slowly the burns started to recede, and the room’s temperature slowly rose again. It looked like it took a lot out of Johnny because he swayed on his feet and flickered in and out.

“You’re really going talk to the cops?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Ponyboy promised.

“But with what proof?” Castor asked. “We don’t have anything.”

“We’ll just have to get it,” Dally said like it was simple.

“We?” Ponyboy repeated.

Dally rose an eyebrow. “You’re not doing this alone, are you kidding me?”

“See? Protective,” Castor whispered to him.

“It’s one guy versus all of us. He won’t be able to see it coming.”

“One guy with a giant ghost,” Ponyboy corrected. With the three of them, maybe they would have a chance against it. “Where would we find the proof that we need, anyway?”

“The school? His house? He left a trail somewhere. He would have been sloppy at covering it up.”

Ponyboy didn’t want to break into his house and the school left more openings to find something. He nodded, “Let’s try the school first.”

This was it. They were finally going to end it. Soon, this horror will be over, and Castor will be able to move on. But why did it have to feel so bittersweet?

When he got to school the next day, Ponyboy was on high alert despite the three ghosts that followed him around. His eyes shifted from face to face, looking half-crazy most likely. There wasn’t much he could do now but avoid Peter like the plague. For the entire day, Ponyboy didn’t see him at all, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. That was until the end of the day when his luck had run out.

He waited a bit around for the hallways to clear out after the final bell rang. He wanted to check Peter’s locker first because that was the only place, he could have been hiding something that wasn’t his backpack. Luckily, he remembered the general area where it was located.

“What’s in there?” Ponyboy asked Castor who had stuck his head inside. His fingers tingled anxiously as he waited for the news. Christ, he hoped that there was something in there. But when Castor shook his head, he felt like he had been knocked down a level. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Just some textbooks and a picture of him and his mom,” Castor revealed.

“We gotta snatch his bag,” Dally said.

“I don’t like that idea…” Johnny whispered.

Ponyboy sighed, “Me neither, Johnny.”

They were about to leave, but that was when they saw the giant ghost that hung around Peter. It peered at them from around the corner. Adrenaline instantly pumped into his blood as he looked for a place he could hide, but it was too late. Peter rounded the corner and he instantly scowled when he saw the greaser. Ponyboy subconsciously took a step back, irritating the bruises on his body.

It was going to be alright, he told himself. There were still students around. Peter wasn’t going to try to kill him here… he hoped.

“When I say run, run,” Castor seriously told him, eyes never leaving the soc. “I’m going to distract him as best as I can.”

“What about you?” Ponyboy whispered with wild eyes.

“I’m a ghost. I can’t be harmed by him.”

“He won’t be alone,” Johnny jumped in. Ponyboy smiled at their reassurances.

“Well, well, well. Did you come here to see me?” Peter asked teasingly.

“Why would I want to see you?” Ponyboy shot back.

“Well, why would you be hanging around my locker?” His face suddenly turned intense and colder. “Did you try to break into it?”

“DID YOU STEAL SOMETHING?” the ghost behind him asked, spurting out dark blood. “TELL ME WHAT YOU STOLE FROM HIM!”

“Jesus, that’s one f*cked up ghost,” Dally commented but didn’t look scared whatsoever. He looked almost excited that he was finally going to get some action.

“I was just passing through here,” Ponyboy said.

“Yeah, right. Haven’t you done enough damage, you hood?” Peter continued, stepping forward. “Why are you trying to look through my stuff? Stay away from me! Get away from everyone else too, you hear? Or I’m going to pummel your ass!”

“DON’T TOUCH HIS STUFF!” the ghost screamed.

“I wasn’t lying!” Pony defended. “Does your locker show any sign of me tampering with it?”

Sometime during this exchange, Castor moved away from him. He managed to find a locker nearby that a student had forgotten to close all the way. With a little bit of trouble, he cracked it open before he slammed it shut and created a startling noise that echoed against the walls of the hallway. Peter jumped and spun around to locate the source of the sudden noise.

“Who did that?” he yelled, but the students that were still there hardly looked his way. He turned back to Ponyboy and seemed to come to a conclusion. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Ponyboy said innocently.

“Don’t play coy with me. How did you do that with the locker?”

Ponyboy raised an eyebrow. He wrapped a clammy hand around his wrist behind his back. His fingers tapped anxiously on it. “I didn’t do nothing! I was standing still!”

He took a step forward (he wasn’t planning on going further than that) to seem more confident than he was, but that was a mistake. The ghost behind the soc wailed, “DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!”

It shot its long arms toward him, causing his eyes to go wide. Every instinct told him to jump out of the way, but the hand moved quickly. It wasn’t like he could move out of the way anyway. It stopped in front of his face, hand straight and nails long and sharp. The nails were only a few millimeters away from his pupils and Ponyboy could feel himself start to go cross-eyed. A bead of sweat fell down his temple as he stared straight ahead, unwavering.

“Ponyboy!” Johnny cried out in alarm.

It was okay. He managed to stay still. But, although he somehow was able to maintain a straight face and not flinch, Ponyboy had stopped moving mid-step. One of his feet was ahead of him and was hovering over the floor while the other was balancing his entire body as if he had been frozen in time.

The ghost leaned forward. Each hand on the ground caused tremors that shook the hallway.

“Was that an earthquake?” some nearby student asked another.

“Probably just an aftershock,” the other replied.

But the words that Ponyboy was only able to hear were, “YOU SAW ME! I KNOW YOU SAW ME! YOU SAW! YOU SAW! YOU SAW!”

The ghost started to ponce towards him and through the ringing in his ears, he could hear Castor scream for him to run. Ponyboy’s body started to turn right when he saw Dally stop the darker entity from reaching him. All three of his ghost friends moved in a way that Ponyboy’s brain could hardly comprehend. They moved in a blur, but that could have been his brain just playing tricks on him. While they moved and caused lockers to slam shut and the lights to flicker, he swore he saw Castor knock Peter down onto his butt. The soc fell with confusion clear on his face, wondering why he suddenly fell.

Ponyboy finally took off running. He pushed Peter down again along the way. The flickering lights were only in that small section of the hallway, making it seem like nothing had happened when he got far enough away from it. The only constant reminder was the looks he received from some people because of his running.

He should have been worried for himself, but all he could think of was Castor, Johnny, and Dally. God, he hoped that nothing would happen to them.

Ponyboy turned a corner and felt his body slam into another. He let out a quiet oof as he stumbled back a few steps. Papers scattered around him like a rug.

“Sorry…” he mumbled and was about to run off again when he was halted by a voice and the smell of cinnamon.

“Whoa, there!” said Mr. Flannigan.

“Oh, h-hey,” Ponyboy responded, voice cracking. He looked up and saw his teacher raise an eyebrow at him.

“And what’s causing you to run in the hallway?” The teacher bent down and started to pick up the papers and Ponyboy quickly helped him, knowing it was rude not to do anything. But he only managed to grab a couple because he kept looking over his shoulder. It didn’t look like Peter had followed him, but that didn’t mean he was safe yet. Being next to his teacher was a good thing though and he should take advantage of that. Mr. Flannigan could also see ghosts, so he was confident that his back was being watched.

“I… uh…” Ponyboy tried to think of a good excuse. He scratched the back of his head. “I was trying to find you.”

“Oh?”

“I had a… um, question on the project.”

From the corner of his eyes, Ponyboy saw a large dark shadow. At first, he thought it was the ghost that was always with Peter and felt dread when the other three ghosts weren’t there as well. But then he got a better look at it and almost felt relief when he found that it was different. It was large, for sure, but not nearly the size of Peter’s. It wore a trench coat that hid its wispy features. Unlike the other ghosts who had skin, this one didn’t. It looked like a black mist that had taken the form of an unidentifiable human. Ponyboy couldn’t even see if it had eyes. He felt his body stiffen and saw Mr. Flannigan stiffen up tremendously as well. The teacher gripped the stack of papers so tightly that they started to crease as he forced his eyes away. Ponyboy did the same and was finally able to see the fear that was in his teacher’s eyes.

That was a first. He had never seen Mr. Flannigan so scared of a ghost before. There had been plenty that wandered around school that was much creepier than this one. However, this one seemed to bring him into a panic. He wondered why.

He got his answer when the ghost took out what looked like a short scythe that looked more like a sickle. It swung it down on a nearby student, letting the blade sink through their skull. Ponyboy’s breath got caught in his throat.

It was attacking innocent people?

Although it didn’t seem to be hurting anyone, Ponyboy’s heart started to pound. The ghost went from person to person, slicing into their head and muttering, “NOT THIS ONE.”

It was getting closer to them. Ponyboy’s knees were shaking. Another slice and it moved forward.

“NOT THIS ONE.”

He tried to focus fully on his teacher, begging with his eyes to come up with something. Luckily, he seemed to be already on it because he jerked his head to the side and said, “Walk with me and we can discuss it on our way out. I’m sorry if I won’t be able to answer all your questions. I have somewhere I need to be, but you can accompany me to the parking lot until then.”

Ponyboy fervently nodded and followed next to him, trying to keep up with his large strides. The ghost turned to them after it caught their movements and stalked after them.

Glory… Why couldn’t it be a good ghost and stay behind?

“So, what about the project?” Mr. Flannigan asked, trying to keep his voice as stable as possible.

“I was,” Ponyboy started, looking at reflections to keep track of the ghost. “I was hoping to switch partners?”

“Switch? Why would you want to switch?”

“We, uh, don’t really get along that well.” True enough. His partner that was assigned earlier today was such a jerk. He liked to spend class sticking gum in people’s hair.

“Really? But I think you two are more alike than you think.”

Ponyboy really hoped not. “Really?”

He nodded. “Alas, I guess that new partners are going to be needed soon anyway. He was going to be leaving us soon, but… maybe not yet. Maybe after things cycle through again.”

“Is he going somewhere?”

“Not for a bit.” They made it to the staff parking lot which didn’t have anyone else present, only vehicles. “His heresy will be reflected on later.”

Ponyboy didn’t know how to respond to that, so he chuckled and looked around. When in doubt, change topics, right? “Which one is yours?”

Mr. Flannigan pointed to a vehicle in the far corner. “That red one over there. Help me bring my stuff the rest of the way?”

With a nod, they both made their way over. Ponyboy looked over his shoulder one last time. That ghost wasn’t following them anymore and it seemed to relax Mr. Flannigan immensely. The teacher sighed, “It’s a shame that you met that ghost of yours, Castor.”

Ponyboy’s attention was fully on him when he heard Castor’s name. He frowned. “What do you mean? Castor’s not a bad guy.”

They stopped by the car and Mr. Flannigan turned to him with the coldest eyes he had ever seen him wear. “Not to most people, but I can see through him. You should have done so too. You wouldn’t have been caught up in all of this and you wouldn’t have been tainted like so. You were one of the good ones. He was too, but he betrayed me, and you betrayed me too.”

Where was this coming from? Alarms were sounding and Ponyboy’s heartbeat started to beat so hard that he could hear it with his own ears. He brought his arms up to his chest. “What are you talking about, Mr. Flannigan?”

But that was when Ponyboy looked down at the car that had seen better days—a Thunderbird. Ponyboy remembered that this was the type of car from Castor’s vision. Then his eyes fell to the license plate and felt the color drain from his face. The number listed was PR-0452. He didn’t remember all of the digits that Castor told him, but it matched enough.

He was so dead.

“Do you recognize it?” the teacher asked, voice now right by his ear. Ponyboy jumped away with a yelp. When had he moved so close to him?

“You’re him,” Ponyboy said, backing away. “You’re the person who’s been killing all these innocent people.”

“Innocent?” Mr. Flannigan barked out a laugh. “They are far from innocent. They had to be punished. Now it’s your turn.”

“But Peter—”

“Hasn’t been doing anything wrong. He’s been more innocent than you.”

But that ghost that hung around him! He had to be a bad person. Ponyboy’s hands were slippery. This didn’t matter right now. He had to get out of there. He had to keep running.

He whirled around and tried to run away but a hand caught him before he could take a step.

“Castor!” Ponyboy screamed at the top of his lungs. He struggled against the hold, kicking his legs and flinging his other arm to try to hit the teacher, but the guy’s freezing hand was vice-like and the blows that did hit him seemed to leave no damage. Mr. Flannigan didn’t even flinch or wince. “Let go of me!”

He twisted his body around and used all of his strength in a single punch to the face, hearing the snap of bone. Ponyboy retracted his fist to see Mr. Flannigan’s now broken, bloody nose. But even though it was broken, the teacher made no indication that he felt anything.

Suddenly, his head was grabbed and it was slammed into the side of the car, creating a dent. Ponyboy’s vision went dark for several seconds and there was a ringing in his ears. A warm spot started to spread across his forehead before he was lifted again. Before his vision could return, his head was slammed back down in the same spot with a force that felt like he was about to snap his neck. Again, his vision went dark, and again, his head was lifted.

Ponyboy groaned as he swayed on his feet. Somehow, he managed to keep conscious through all of that.

“C-Castor…” he groaned. The warmness on his forehead started to trickle down his face like water. Oh. It was because it was his blood… “Castor…”

He had to stay awake.

He had to get away.

He could feel everything start to slip away, but he had to hold on as best as he could.

“Pony!” he heard but he wasn’t sure if it was real or not. He looked over and, through his blurry vision, he saw Castor, Johnny, and Dally running toward them.

“Castor…” he whimpered, too dizzy to do anything more. His head was slammed into the side of the car again before he was tossed in the trunk like a rag doll. His legs uselessly kicked at the air before the truck was shut on him, leaving him in darkness. “Let me go. Please, let me go.”

His words were left unheard because, a second later, the car rumbled to life.

Escape. He had to escape.

But how?

The trunk was small, leaving little room to move. All he could do was pound his fists on the lid. The scent of cinnamon was like smelling salt.

sh*t.

“Help!” he yelled. Being in the trunk without the ability to see reminded him of the park. He was blinded then and he was blinded now. He had smelt something back then but couldn’t place it. Being put in the same position with the knowledge he knew now, he was now able to recognize what it was. The sharp scent back then and the same scent now had been cinnamon. It had always been Mr. Flannigan. Ponyboy laid his head back. How could he be so oblivious? Now he was going to die because of it.

He only had one more chance to escape.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the trunk but eventually, the car stopped rumbling and he could hear Mr. Flannigan open and close the door. Even after that, it took a while for the teacher to get him. He could hardly move but he tried to figure out how he could get out of there. His head was hurting and fogged over, but he felt around and found he was lying on a book. It was too dark to read but it was the only thing in the trunk that he could easily reach, so he hid it under his shirt. Maybe he could use it somewhere. The trunk opened and he was grabbed before his eyes could adjust to the light.

He was dragged out by the hair, the feeling of fire spreading across his scalp. Ponyboy gritted his teeth as he tried to pry the hands off before his hair could be ripped out, but his movements felt slow and heavy.

“I had enough time to make a special case just for you,” Mr. Flannigan said. Special case?

“What do you mean? What are you going to do to me?” Ponyboy demanded, glaring.

“You already know. I’m going to liberate you.” That was when Ponyboy saw the wooden box that Mr. Flannigan was talking about. It was a little bit bigger than him length wide and had a wooden lid. It was a simple wooden box with a padlock. But Ponyboy knew that it wasn’t an ordinary box. It was his coffin.

“What? Couldn’t spend more time on it?” Ponyboy spat. It was the most he could do—attack with words.

“You should be lucky that I’m giving you this. I could sever your limbs and throw them into a suitcase.”

He was thrown inside, and the lid was shut right on his head. Stars danced along his dark vision and as he felt the coffin start to move, he finally had time to let everything sink in. His heart was in his stomach, yet he was too scared to cry.

He was dead. This was definitely it this time. Ponyboy was going to die while the gang thought he was a liar. They were probably going to think that he saw his parents’ ghosts and ended up falling off a ledge or something. He was going to die while they thought he was a lunatic and people were going to spread even more rumors about them.

The coffin was dropped in a hole and Ponyboy’s body slammed hard against the wood. Seconds later, dirt started to pile onto the case, getting into the smallest cracks. This time, he let out a scream as he pounded against the case. He lifted the lid until it was stopped by the padlock. It kept getting harder and harder to move as more dirt piled on until he couldn’t budge the lid at all.

It was dark and all he could do now was scratch at the wood and accept that he was going to suffocate in there.

“No…” Ponyboy wailed. He was going to die. There was no running away anymore.

His brothers weren’t even going to have a body to bury (if this didn’t count). Just like the other victims, his body wasn’t going to be found. Christ, there was still so much left he had to resolve. He never had the chance to actually talk to the gang after his silent treatment. They probably thought he didn’t like them anymore. He couldn’t leave it like that. They had to know he loved them all and treasured them dearly.

Why did he have to be such a brat until the end?

He was going to die.

Why did he tell them he could see ghosts?

He was going to suffocate.

Why was he so weak?

The walls were too close to him. He could hardly move.

It was already getting harder to breathe. His breaths were quick and panicked. He knew he had to calm down, but he just couldn’t. How could someone be calm in this situation? He was dying!

He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be alone!

“Castor, I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

“Don’t be. I’m here.”

Ponyboy almost broke out in tears. Castor’s voice was right in his ear. He reached forward instinctively but caught nothing but cold air.

“Castor, is that you?” he asked.

“Shh. I’m here, Lil’ Grease. Try to manage your breath, okay?” Castor soothed. Ponyboy nodded and tried his damn hardest to get his breathing under control. “That’s good. You’re doing great.”

Finally, he was able to calm down enough. “You’re here.”

“Don’t talk too much.” Even though he couldn’t be seen, Ponyboy nodded. “I followed you. I was with Johnny and Dally, but we were at a crossroads and didn’t know where you went so, we split up. Guess I got lucky.”

Honestly, out of all of them, Ponyboy couldn’t think of being in this situation with anyone else. “Are you in here with me? Not just sticking your head in?”

“I am all here. Would it make it easier to be more solid for you? It’s pretty cramped in here though.” Castor started to make the parts where they were touching more solid. Their bodies pressed tightly together with little room to expand their chest. Both arms were on both sides of Ponyboy’s head, bent at a 90-degree angle, which meant that Castor’s chest and neck were hovering over his face. He could feel one of Castor’s legs on his inner thigh, causing his brain to fog up even more. He knew his face was red and he was glad that it was too dark to see anything.

“No, no, no!” Ponyboy yelped, feeling like he was going crazy already. Just picturing their bodies like that and feeling the tingling pressure on his skin caused heat to pool into his lower stomach. “Don’t do that!”

There was a pause, and it took a second for Ponyboy to realize that Castor was dealing with flusterment himself. The ghost quickly apologized, and the pressure was gone. Both of them breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Ponyboy…” Castor said after a bit. “Was that lump—”

“A book!” Ponyboy quickly yelled. “It’s a book I took from Mr. Flannigan.”

“Why did you take… You know what? Never mind. I still can’t believe it was Mr. Flannigan all this time.” But Castor could. As soon as he saw the teacher stuff Ponyboy in the trunk, the faceless figure was finally revealed in his memory. He wished he had figured it out sooner.

“Me neither. We made a mistake and look where I ended up. I’m going to die, aren’t I?” He probably only had four hours of air left max, but after he wasted it by panicking, it looked more like two hours.

“You’re not going to die,” Castor declared, putting reassuring pressure on his shoulders. “I’m not going to let you.”

Ponyboy hardly believed that. With a few hours left to live and no one to save him, he was a goner. Well, at least one thing came from it: he was going to become a ghost too and they wouldn’t have to be separated by living and dead.

“Don’t say that,” Castor said making Ponyboy realize he said that part out loud. “Don’t make it seem like death is something we both want. There isn’t a person in the world that truly wants their loved one to die. I’m no different. Just because I’m a ghost doesn’t mean you should become one too.”

“Loved one?” Ponyboy choked. Blood had rushed to his head, and he wasn’t sure if it was from what Castor said or from the lack of oxygen.

Castor was very quick to correct himself. “You know what I mean. I’m going to try to get you out.”

Ponyboy nodded, but he didn’t know if Castor saw it. He felt the presence leave and Ponyboy closed his eyes. He was going to be alright, he wanted to believe, but he couldn’t. He was going to die.

Castor searched for the lock. The hole had already been filled up and Mr. Flannigan had already left. When he found it, he tried to lift it in a panic. But most likely due to this, his fingers passed right through.

“Come on,” he hissed to himself. “f*ck!”

He had to hurry. Pony was counting on him to save him.

He had to do it!

Come on…

He tried again and again, each time getting more frustrated, but no matter what, he couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t working! sh*t! f*ck!

His jaw clenched. Please. Let him pick it up. He was going to die if he couldn’t.

His fingers fazed through.

And whatever hope he had crashed. He failed. There was no way he could save him.

He could just envision Ponyboy’s lips turning blue as life gets sucked away from him. He hated that thought and he had to make sure that it didn’t come to pass no matter what. He was probably in there, scratching at the wood, filing in nails down to the nubs as a result. With a frustrated cry, he slapped through the lock and screamed, “sh*t!”

This was getting nowhere and Ponyboy was losing air quickly. But what could he do? The only thing he was able to do was break the lock and even that failed. If he did manage to do it, what was next? He couldn’t dig him up. He needed other people to do that, but he was a ghost. Only Ponyboy and Mr. Flannigan could see him, and obviously, he wasn’t going to ask the teacher.

His mind went to the gang. He had to get them, but how was he going to bring them over here when they didn’t even believe he existed?

sh*t.

Seriously, Ponyboy and he were f*cked!

But he had to try because there was still a small chance he would be able to bring them over. Castor had to grasp onto whatever he could.

How much time did he have left? A little more than an hour?

He bent down into the coffin and whispered, “Ponyboy, I’m gonna have to leave you.”

Ponyboy’s eyes snapped open, he bent up but banged his head on the lid. “What?”

“I’ll be back. I’m going to get help.”

“Help? What do you mean? How are you going to get help? Don’t leave me!” He didn’t want to die alone!

“It’s going to be okay. Regulate your breathing. I’m going to return soon, okay?”

This could not be happening. Ponyboy shook his head. “No!”

“It’s the only way, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you die.”

“Don’t go, please! I’m scared, Castor!”

“I know, but you’re going to have to trust me. I’ll be back with help before you know it.”

“No! Don’t go! Please, I can’t—”

Something pressed against his lips, causing his words to cut short. They started to tingle and at first, Ponyboy didn’t know what had happened but then he realized that what was covering his mouth were lips. And then he realized that Castor was kissing him.

His mind went blank and all panic left him in an instant. But it was over as fast as that. The lips left and left an empty feeling behind. Castor whispered, “I promise I’ll be back.”

Ponyboy didn’t have time to stop him before the ghost left the coffin.

Castor had to hurry. He was in such a rush that he couldn’t even think of another way to shut Ponyboy up other than to kiss him. He didn’t even have time to dwell on that as he rushed to Pony’s house. He had to get the gang to believe he existed and he had to save him.

Chapter 17: Castor the Friendly Ghost

Chapter Text

So, this was what suffocation felt like. Ponyboy’s breath came out in abrupt bursts that sounded like hyperventilation if anything. It felt like it was crushing him, and made it seem like all of his ribs had been broken and were jabbing into his lungs. There was an odd mixture of everything hurting and everything going numb. While his body felt like it was burning, his fingers felt like they had frostbite and were about to fall off. His nails had been filed to their nubs after they scratched small ravines into the wood, and splinters created a prickling feeling up and down his arms.

Even though Castor said to regulate his breathing, he just couldn’t sit still and wait for his death. He had tried to kick and push at the claustrophobic-inducing walls, but that only resulted in some dirt falling into the coffin whenever he did manage to jiggle the lid. But that only happened in the beginning. All other attempts failed. He soon gave up when his brain was so fogged over that he couldn’t think straight and the deafening ringing in his ears became too overwhelming.

Where was Castor? He promised he would come back, but it had been too long.

He abandoned you, a voice in his head said, but he refused to believe it to be true. Castor was coming back. Ponyboy believed in him. All he could do was pray he would return soon even if he wasn’t able to get help. Ponyboy didn’t want to die alone.

Castor was at a loss. He had tried to think of some way to convince Ponyboy’s friends and family of his existence, but how would he do that? He was now staring at the gang who were all gathered at the Curtis’s house without a clue and a clock that was running out of time.

“Where’s Ponyboy?” Soda asked Darry, looking at the clock. It was already late; hours after Ponyboy’s usual return time. The sun had set about an hour ago. “Wasn’t he supposed to be home by now?”

“Kid’s probably talking to himself,” Steve mocked. “He probably found himself another weird imaginary friend.”

Soda frowned. “Steve...”

“What? It’s true though.” Steve pointed at Soda. “Your kid brother got weird. Something’s wrong with his head.”

“We’re going to get his head checked soon,” Darry brought up, looking too tired for his age. “I can’t believe it got this bad. I thought it was going to end soon, but when he brought up Johnny and Dally… I don’t know…”

“I know what you mean,” Two-Bit pitched in, taking a swig of his beer before he placed it on the coffee table. “It just keeps getting worse. I don’t know how to intact with him anymore.”

“It’s so freaky when he talks to something not there,” Steve added, shivering.

“Do you all feel this way?” Soda asked, looking at all of them individually.

“Don’t you?”

Soda fell silent and it was clear to everyone that he agreed with them on some level. He rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know what to do… Ponyboy’s been worrying me a sure lot lately.”

“I’m sure the doctor will find out what’s wrong with him,” Darry reassured, clasping Soda’s shoulder.

“He won’t be happy to hear about this.”

“Well, he’s just going to have to deal.”

“I’m real. He’s not insane!” Castor declared loudly, but when nobody turned to him, he switched up his sentences. “Whatever. Listen to me, Ponyboy’s in danger!”

He didn’t know why he tried to talk to them first. It never worked before, and it wasn’t going to change now. Castor clenched his hands and the lights started to flicker—one of the easiest things he was able to do as a spirit—and the gang looked up toward the ceiling.

“I thought you said that there was nothing wrong with the lights,” Soda brought up, turning to Darry.

Darry grumbled, “I checked. Nothing looked wrong to me.”

“Is there faulty wiring or something?” Steve asked. Darry shrugged. “You might have to call an electrician or something.”

“We’ll see.”

“And maybe get the heater checked. It’s always so cold here. My feet feel like they’re going to come off.”

“It was working fine a minute ago.”

“Maybe you should grab socks to warm your feet, Cinderella,” Two-Bit snorted, which earned his head to be locked under Steve’s arm.

That attempt didn’t work. Castor groaned and pulled at his hair. He didn’t have time for any more mistakes. But what else could he do? Blow in their ears and hope they get uncomfortable? Wear a bed sheet and go BOO? That actually wasn’t a bad idea, but he didn’t trust himself enough to pull that off at the moment.

“I hope nothing goes out. I don’t want Ponyboy to come back when the house is dark,” Soda said. There was a long pause as if they were waiting for the kid to pop in with a wave at that moment. When nobody entered the house, Steve tapped his foot impatiently.

“Seriously, where is the kid?” he wondered out loud, sick of how much Pony’s absence changed everyone’s mood. But he also started to worry about him as well. As annoying as he was, he was like a little brother to him.

“Wherever he is,” Darry spoke, “he’s going to have a good talking to when he gets back.”

“I’m really worried about him,” Soda reiterated; his eyes were sunken and shoulders were drooped.

Darry’s hand, which was still resting reassuringly on Soda’s shoulder, tightened. “I know, Soda. I’m worried about him too.”

“He’s probably fine. He wouldn’t try to run off again,” Two-Bit tried to reason and that was what everyone hoped, but not even Two-Bit believed his words. Ponyboy always seemed to find himself at the center of trouble. He was like a beacon to it; a magnet to unfortunate happenings.

“But what if something bad happened to him? What if he got jumped?” Soda asked with a deep frown, removing Darry’s hand. He looked at the door and took a step towards it. “Maybe we should go look for him.”

Castor had to do something now or they would leave and he would lose his chance. He looked around the living room before his eyes landed on the beer bottle that was still on the table. Could he move it? He used to be able to lift objects just fine but failed when he tried to lift the padlock. What if he fails again? He still didn’t fully understand the mechanics of it all.

His fingers twitched against his legs. He had to try. No matter what, he had to succeed.

He crouched in front of the bottle and wiggled his nose. For a long second, his fingers hovered over the surface of it. They passed through during his first attempt and he almost gave up on that method right then, but he wasn’t the type to give up after one try. So, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He can do it. He was going to accomplish this feat.

It was small, but Castor felt a pull in his gut. The lights started to flicker again as energy filled his veins as if a shot of adrenaline had been injected into him. He tried again, and this time, the bottle moved. It wobbled before it fell, spilling out the contents inside of it and adding to the future carpet stains. Whoops.

The gang instantly shot up and Darry hurriedly moved to clean the mess. He grabbed a pile of paper towels and smothered the puddle with them. When the situation was more controlled, Darry pointedly eyed the other three in a way that told them he was about to berate someone for their clumsiness.

“Who knocked this over?” Darry asked, throwing the soaked towels in the garbage.

“Steve must have hit the table,” Two-Bit accused mostly teasingly. He didn’t think much of the fallen bottle. Stuff like that happened all the time.

“I’m not even close to it,” Steve defended, raising an eyebrow. “If anyone had done it, it would have been you.”

“No need to accuse anyone,” Soda stepped in, raising his hands. “I think—”

A door in the house slammed shut, causing all of them to flinch and their hearts to fly out of their chests.

“Air pressure,” Darry breathed out after he got his heartbeat back in control. “Just air pressure.”

“Come on!” Castor whined like a child. He then tugged on Soda’s shirt, but the greaser only readjusted it. He didn’t even look elsewhere while he was doing it. “Just believe in me! Your brother is in trouble!”

How much was it going to take? He started to throw open cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, feeling more energized than ever. Moving these objects was almost just as easy as when he had a physical body. Maybe the padlock failure was just in the moment. This finally got the gang’s full attention. Castor could feel how much their anxiety rose. They approached the kitchen almost cautiously, taking everything in.

“Okay, Superman, how do you explain that?” Steve asked, gesturing in front of him, but Darry didn’t have any words. He opened his mouth before he closed it again. There was no explanation. Maybe the house shifted? Maybe there was a small earthquake? None of them sounded convincing in the slightest. Finally, Darry decided to whack Steve in the arm and told him to not call him Superman.

“Saving face because you don’t want to admit that ghosts are real, aren’t you?” Castor drawled. He grabbed a chair and pulled it out from the table, letting it screech across the floor like nails on a chalkboard. Again, the gang flinched and spun around. And again, their anxiety spiked and their shoulders rose to their ears. This was working!

“Did that chair move on its own?” Two-Bit asked, mouth ajar. “Or did I finally drink too much?”

“No, that chair definitely moved…” Soda trailed off, he walked over and tested out the chair but there wasn’t anything special about it. It was the same one they always had. There was nothing on it that would cause it to be dragged halfway across the kitchen.

Two-Bit nervously laughed, thinking about Ponyboy and his ghost claims. “Is this house haunted?”

It was meant as a joke. Two-Bit didn’t believe it was haunted, but the fact that he even brought it up as a possibility gave Castor hope. Steve elbowed Two-Bit and let out a mocking laugh, “Didn’t you read the news? This is the most haunted house in America.”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Darry reminded them as well as himself. “There was probably an earthquake that we didn’t feel ourselves.”

It was time to put the cherry on top. Castor found a pencil on the counter and carefully lifted it with his thumb and index finger. He stuck out his tongue in concentration. There was no denying a levitating object. He would love to hear what bogus explanation Darry could come up with.

Soda was the first to see it. His eyes went wide as his mouth dropped. He stuttered, “Guys, look!”

When the others saw it, their mouths dropped just like Soda’s. Castor wished he could take a photo of it and show Ponyboy later. He would sure have a laugh. Castor puffed up his chest with his accomplishment and cackled, “There. You believe in ghosts now, don’t you?”

“Is that floating?” Two-Bit asked, thinking that if he wasn’t drunk before, he most certainly was now.

“No way. This is a prank. The kid must be pulling something on us,” Steve rationalized. “There’s fishing wire. That’s how he’s doing it.”

“But Ponyboy’s not here.”

“He has to be! He’s probably hiding and laughing at us.”

Although they started to conclude that was the case, Soda had an entirely different thought. He knew for certain that Ponyboy wasn’t there, and he knew that none of them could pull off such an elaborate prank. He started to wonder: what if Ponyboy was, in fact, telling the truth? What if the pencil was being lifted by a ghost? He tried to think about all the times Ponyboy described ghosts to him but could only recall him talking about Castor. Ponyboy never went into great detail on other entities. So, he decided to try calling out to their house’s most frequent paranormal visitor.

“Castor?” he tested tentatively, and Castor’s ears perked up. Hearing his name on someone’s lips almost caused him to drop the pencil entirely. “Is that you?”

“Yes! Yes! It’s me!” Castor chirped excitedly with a bounce. “That’s my name!”

“Casper?” Steve snorted. “You think this house is haunted by Casper the Friendly Ghost?”

The ghost in question rolled his eyes. “It’s Castor! Cas-tor.”

“Castor,” Soda corrected for him.

“Okay? Who the f*ck is that?”

“Uh…” Soda trailed off, trying to figure out how to explain who he was to them. An idea suddenly popped into his head. “Hold on. Let me grab something.”

Soda left the room but wasn’t gone for too long. He soon returned with Ponyboy’s sketchbook and flipped to the sketch of Castor. He held it up to the gang and introduced, “This is Castor. He’s that imaginary… um, ghost that’s been hanging around Ponyboy, or so he says. It’s who he talks to when it looks like he’s talking to himself.”

“He actually drew him?” Darry asked, inspecting the drawing closer. Soda nodded. This was getting beyond weird for them.

“That’s great for him and all, but ghosts don’t exist,” Steve reiterated. “Drawing his imaginary friend is freaky.”

“But what if Ponyboy was telling the truth?” Soda inquired. “How do you explain everything that’s been happening here?”

“I don’t know. The earthquake we mentioned before? Just not ghosts! Soda, come on…”

Soda would love to not believe in ghosts, but he couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. Today, they had proof. He pressed his lips together as he put more thought into it. If Castor was real, why was he here? And why was he suddenly trying to get their attention? It always seemed like he hung around Ponyboy so why…? Dread started to seep in and his heart dropped to his stomach. Did something happen to Ponyboy? Something must have. Something was wrong. “Can’t we just believe it for a moment?”

He had yelled that sentence. Everyone who knew Soda knew that he rarely hollered like that. That was why the gang was taken off guard and became more compliant. If he yelled like that, it must have been important. Soda looked at the pencil desperately, letting it be a placeholder for the ghost, and asked, “Castor? Is that you?”

“Yes!” Castor yelled. “I’m right here!”

When they heard nothing, Steve crossed his arms, “See? No ghost. I told you so.”

But Soda wasn’t going to back down that easily. It was clear that they weren’t able to communicate regularly, but how were they going to speak to him? How does one communicate with ghosts? Then another idea struck him. That was an easy one. Afterall, he had done it before.

He flipped to a new page in the sketchbook and plucked the pencil from the air (he was sure now that no fishing line was holding it up). After placing the book down on the table, he started to write out the alphabet, making sure to include YES and NO in the top corners of the page. When he was done, everyone looked at what he created: an Ouiji Board. Castor grinned when he saw it.

“You know? You’re a lot smarter than I thought,” Castor complimented.

“Let’s try this,” Soda said, getting a glass cup from the cabinet. He placed his fingers on it and looked at the others expectingly. Two-Bit sat straight down but Darry and Steve kept standing. “Steve? Darry?”

“This is ridiculous,” Darry grumbled.

“Come on, please?” They all stared at Soda, seeing the intensity and seriousness in his eyes. The two of them exchanged looks with each other. With a sigh, they both relented and sat down, putting their fingers on the glass. They might as well get this over with. Soda cleared his throat. “Castor? Is that you? You can talk like this, right?”

Castor put his hands on top of theirs and was instantly hit with a burst of energy. Was this how he was able to move objects? This energy was theirs; not his. Castor was sapping it from them. All this time, he had been taking Ponyboy’s without knowing it. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like Pony noticed so he probably wasn’t stealing too much. He bit his bottom lip as he shifted the glass, finding it the easiest thing he had ever moved. He dragged it to the word, YES.

Steve removed his fingers as if he had been burned. He gave everyone a pointed look and asked, “Who moved it? It’s not a good time to be playing a joke.”

Soda looked at the gang and saw how uncomfortable they all were, but they had to continue. “And it’s not a good time to stop this. Please, Steve, let’s continue. I swear we’re not moving it.”

“I don’t believe that, Soda. Sorry, but I don’t.” Steve shook his head and crossed his arms.

The others removed their fingers and both Soda and Castor thought they were losing them. Eventually, Soda removed his too, but Castor, who was still energized, still moved the makeshift planchette.

R E A L.

And for the third time that day, they all jumped. Steve quickly ducked his head under the table, but to his shock, there were no magnets or other mechanisms under it. He sat back up, eyes about to boggle out of his skull. He couldn’t believe anything anymore and his brain was having a difficult time comprehending what was happening in front of him. “This is crazy.”

P L A N C H E T T E

“I think it wants us to continue playing,” Two-Bit said.

H E

The greaser sheepishly laughed. “He wants us to continue playing.”

After having a silent conversation with each other, the gang placed their fingers back on the glass.

“I can’t believe this is happening. Ghosts are real?” Darry said, jaw tight. “All this time?”

YES

They needed to get back on track.

“Castor,” Soda interrupted, leaning forward. They could go more into paranormal stuff later. “Do you know where Ponyboy is?”

Finally.

YES

Castor didn’t wait for them to ask another question. He started to move the planchette around the page at a rapid speed, spelling the same word as if he had been possessed himself.

H E L P

H E L P

H E L P

H E L P

That foreboding feeling in all of them returned. Soda’s breath hitched.

“What happened? Did something happen to Ponyboy?” Soda demanded, volume going up. “Where is he?”

P O N Y B O Y

H E L P

D Y I N G

And everything came crashing down. Their hearts all stopped as the reality of those words hit them like a bulldozer. Those were words that should have never been put together.

“Dying? Castor, tell us what’s going on! Where is he?” Darry barked, standing up so fast that his chair was knocked over.

N O

T I M E

P L E A S E

H E L P

G O

N O W

H U R R Y

D Y I N G

“sh*t!” Darry cursed, banging his fists against the table. “I don’t know where he is! How could we help without knowing that? Where’s my brother? Tell me!”

But Castor didn’t know how to describe the location to them. He was only able to retrace his steps. He tugged on Soda’s shirt and this time, the greaser recognized it was the ghost. He grabbed the keys and threw them to Darry. He then grabbed the planchette and sketchbook for himself. “I think he’s going to lead us there. Come on!”

“This is so insane!” Steve yelled. “How can we believe this?”

Soda gritted his teeth. “There’s no time for this, Steve! Let’s go!”

Mumbling under his breath, Steve ran after the brothers with Two-Bit next to him. They jumped in the truck and Darry sped off in less than a minute.

Okay, this was good. They were on their way. Castor just hoped they would be able to dig Ponyboy up in time. He cursed to himself. He should have told them to grab shovels while they had the chance. He moved the planchette on Soda’s lap.

L E F T

“Go left!” Soda recited and Darry jerked the car in that direction, causing all of them to slam painfully into the side.

“I can’t believe I’m getting directions from a ghost,” Darry said, flabbergasted. His fingers were turning white from how tight his grip was on the wheel. Besides the directions, it was silent in the car. The intensity of the situation caused their throats to close off and their words to be whisked away. Not even getting banged around in the vehicle or when their lives flashed before their eyes caused them to utter a peep. Cars honked as they swerved around them, but the gang didn’t care. All that was on their mind was getting to Ponyboy and saving him.

It felt like it took hours to get there when in actuality, the drive wasn’t even fifteen minutes. How terrible would it have been if the gang found that Ponyboy had horribly died a few minutes away from them? Or when they found out, after constant warnings, that he would be one of the several victims of that esteemed murderer? Only, they were going to make sure he wasn’t going to be one of them.

“Hang on, Ponyboy,” Castor whispered, tapping his fingers on the glass like a drum. Finally, they made it to their destination.

S T O P

“Brake!” Soda relayed and they all flung forward and banged their heads when Darry slammed on the brake.

“sh*t,” Steve groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Couldn’t have pressed it more gently?”

Darry didn’t respond. He jumped out of the vehicle and looked around the empty, undeveloped area—first desperately and then in confusion. The gang got out as well, squinting their eyes as if that would make them see better in the dark. Luckily, the truck’s headlights were on full blast, letting them have a better range of vision. But even though they had that, the lot was still clearly empty. No sign of Ponyboy or foul play anywhere. They moved around the area, but there really was nothing.

“Nothing’s here,” Darry growled, spinning around to search for the invisible Castor. “There’s nothing here!”

“There has to be,” Soda breathed out, chest tight. He looked at the board. “Castor, where is he?”

H E R E

“How is he here?” Two-Bit asked.

B E L O W

“Be… Below?”

They all looked down and noticed how soft the soil was and they all went pale.

“Do you think…” Soda started and none of them wanted to think what was on their minds. “Is he underground?”

God, they really hoped not. But then the planchette moved to YES and everything came crashing down once again.

The planchette shattered when it fell to the ground. Soda covered his mouth. “Oh my god. Ponyboy!”

Their minds went blank with panic. But it was Darry who somehow brought them back on track. “There’s a shovel in the trunk. Hurry!”

Steve ran to grab it while the rest of them started to dig desperately with their hands. The dirt got jammed in their nails as they dug like dogs. While they did that, it felt like they were all backseat drivers, watching everything go down but having no control themselves. They dug and dug and it seemed like it was never going to end. The dirt constantly fell back into the hole, slowing down their progress.

One foot in and there was still no sign of Ponyboy.

Two feet and he still wasn’t there. How deep was he?

Three feet and it seemed like there was no hope.

Four feet and they wondered if they were digging in the right spot.

Five feet and they were so close but they didn’t know that. Ponyboy was buried at six feet.

Castor went back to Ponyboy, slipping into the coffin. It was dead quiet inside. He placed a hand on the greaser’s head and could feel how weak he was. The energy wasn’t the same, flowing in a way that was like a faltering heartbeat. The reason why he didn’t have enough energy to lift the padlock was because Ponyboy was dying. He swallowed thickly. If it wasn’t for the gang, Castor wasn’t sure if he would be able to comfort Ponyboy this way.

“I’m back. I’m here. I’m sorry it took so long to get back,” Castor whispered. Ponyboy didn’t respond and it was clear that the boy had lost consciousness. Not dead, just not awake. No ghost of Ponyboy. He was as okay as he could be in this situation. Still, Castor continued to talk to him like he was awake. “The gang’s here. They’re going to get you out of here. I got them to listen. You’re going to be alright. You’re so strong, Ponyboy, you know that? Just hold on a bit more.”

Time felt long and each second was taxing. Eventually, he started to hear them. It was Steve who he heard first, “I think I hit something.”

“A coffin?” Two-Bit identified. Good. They were close enough for Ponyboy to get some oxygen. The timer finally stopped, probably not a moment too soon.

“What are you doing slowing down? Let’s get him out of there.” There were loud knocks on the lid and dirt started to slip through the cracks. Suddenly, the coffin was being lifted from the hole and was placed back on the ground.

“Ponyboy? Are you in there?” Soda asked, breathing and sweating heavily. Castor so wished he could verbally talk to them. There was a loud clash as the shovel broke the padlock and soon the lid was flung open. Soda gasped and Castor couldn’t help but do the same when he saw the state of Ponyboy.

Ponyboy was as still as a corpse and looked like one too. His skin was pale yet it illuminated almost god-like under the moonlight and headlights. His lips had turned blue and swollen, such a contrast against his skin. Dried blood painted his scratched-up forehead which had already started to swell. His body was covered in smaller injuries, especially on his fingertips which were still bleeding. But even though it looked like he had been put through the wringer, Ponyboy looked almost peaceful. Take away the injuries and it would look like he was just sleeping.

“Oh, Ponyboy,” Soda cried out, lifting him out and cradling him close to his chest.

“Is he…” Two-Bit asked, unable to finish his sentence.

Darry stiffly reached over and put his hand on Ponyboy’s neck. He frowned but let out a sigh of relief when he felt a weak pulse. “It’s there. He’s alive.”

They all collapsed, arms tingling and tears falling from their eyes. The adrenaline that they felt finally sizzled down, leaving them exhausted.

They had almost lost Ponyboy. If they didn’t believe in ghosts or if they debated about it for any longer, he would have been gone and they wouldn’t have known what had happened to him. While they were having fun, Ponyboy was scared out of his mind, thinking that this was it. They would have later been stuck thinking about their last interactions with him—last smile, last laugh, last time saying goodbye, last hug—and they would feel so much regret because that would be it. They wouldn’t be able to get any more.

Not Ponyboy. They couldn’t lose him. He wasn’t supposed to die and he wasn’t supposed to be pursued by a killer.

This had been going on while they were thinking that he had gone crazy. All they had done was not believe in him and look at where it brought them. If Ponyboy told them he was going to die, would they believe him? They wanted to say they would. However, they had been refusing to believe anything that came out of his mouth these past few weeks. They regret that now.

More oxygen was entering Ponyboy’s lungs, enough for him to slowly peek open his bloodshot eyes. He could hardly see or register anything, but he was aware enough to recognize the gang. Briefly, he wondered if he had died before he wondered if he was still going to die. But deep in his head, he knew that he had been saved. Finally, tears sprouted from his eyes and he started to bawl (something he wasn’t able to do in the coffin), startling everyone who thought he was out cold.

Soda and Darry hugged their brother close, soon followed by Two-Bit and even Steve. They all cried together, not caring about whatever image they created for themselves. Castor wanted to hug him and cradle him too, but held himself back and just watched the gang interact with each other.

“We’re here. We’re all here,” Soda soothed, sniffling. He petted Ponyboy’s hair. “What happened?”

Darry shook his head, “Let’s save questions for later. Right now, we need to get him to the hospital.”

They all nodded and Darry scooped Ponyboy up, who had just fallen unconscious again, carefully carrying him to the truck. They managed to do it without jostling too many of his injuries. Castor ran a hand through his hair, feeling so exhausted that he could disperse.

They barely made it. Ponyboy was so close to being like him. But at least they made it in time and Ponyboy was now going to be treated.

Castor looked down in the coffin and saw the book that Ponyboy had snagged. It was surrounded by hundreds of scratch marks that Ponyboy created. He picked it up and followed after the gang as they sped towards the hospital.

They had been close to Ponyboy’s death and Castor couldn’t help but think that maybe his time as a ghost was almost up.

Chapter 18: Flannigan's Inferno

Chapter Text

Ponyboy woke up in the hospital several days later with a pounding headache and a ringing in his ears. The swelling that had started in his forehead had traveled down to his eyes, making them difficult to open. When he tried, he cringed at the sharp pain the movement caused. He could only manage to peek them open for now. His nose was plugged which blocked out the strong scent of disinfectant, and his mouth was so desiccated that his tongue felt like leather. Not even swallowing his spit helped. So, three of his senses were out of the running.

His fingers twitched as he started to become more aware of his surroundings.

“—and you know, I don’t know much about bear sex so I may have made that all up, but it sounds smart?”

I’m sorry, what did he wake up to?

“What the heck are you talking about?” Ponyboy croaked. He strained his eyes to look at Castor who froze with his mouth parted. Has he been talking the entire time he was out? And how the hell did the topic go to bear sex? What a time for him to wake up.

“You’re awake!” Castor trilled a little too loudly. He grinned from ear to ear and bounced on his toes excitedly. His fist pounded on his chest. “Did my story make you want to listen to more? Was it that good to bring you out of unconsciousness?”

Ponyboy grimaced. He cleared his throat and tried to open his eyes even wider. Golly, he probably looked horrible right now. “No wonder I have a headache.”

“So mean!” The ghost pretended to wipe away tears before he settled down to a more serious tone. “That’s good that you’re joking like this. It must mean you’re feeling better.”

He felt nauseous like he had vertigo, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “Hey, where am I?”

“The hospital.” When Ponyboy looked around, he saw that he wasn’t alone in the room. There was another patient there. The other guy was an elderly fellow who wasn’t paying attention to him at all. It was probably fine to talk with Castor still.

“How long have I been out?” Ponyboy asked after a minute.

Castor’s face scrunched up. “Almost a week. I was so scared when you didn’t wake up after we got you out of the coffin. I didn’t leave you for one moment.”

It was hard to comprehend his words, but he managed to somewhat understand what he was saying. Wow. He didn’t leave this entire time. Ponyboy’s heart started to beat faster, and he silently cursed the heart monitor after it picked it up. He couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips.

But why was he unconscious? When he thought about it, he found that there were gaps in his memory, and the more he tried to fill them in, the more his head hurt. Thinking was like trying to navigate through fog while trudging through sludge, and that stupid ringing in his ears wasn’t making things any easier.

“What happened?” he asked, giving up.

Castor bit his lip, looking reluctant to tell him anything. But finally, he explained, “You were buried after being captured by Mr. Flannigan.”

“Mr. Flannigan?” It confused Pony why his teacher was brought up. Back then, he had been…

Christ, he seriously didn’t want to do any thinking today.

He had been… walking to the parking lot with his teacher. Then after that, he… was thrown in the trunk of his car, and then trapped in a dark space while quickly losing oxygen and wondering which breath was going to be his last. Oh. He remembered now. He clenched his blanket to hide his shaky hands. Ponyboy shut his eyes, but it only reminded him of the dark coffin. “How did I get out?”

The ghost answered, “We got you out.”

“We? Do you mean Johnny and Dally?” If he remembered right, Castor left to find help. But unfortunately, after he passed out, Ponyboy couldn’t recall anything.

Castor’s face brightened. “Your little gang, that’s who.”

That caught Ponyboy’s attention. He spun so hard that he almost fell out of bed. His vision swam but Ponyboy blubbered nonetheless, “The gang? What? How?”

“I got them to believe in ghosts.”

Ponyboy’s breath caught in his throat. No way. He must have heard him wrong, but he didn’t. The look on his face must have been funny because Castor laughed, “It’s true! I went over there and played all of my cards.”

“No way…” It was hard to believe; like a dream had come true. The smile on his face grew and he could have cried because it finally happened. He had yearned for the day they would believe him. The happiness bubbled in his stomach and warmed his chest as if a fireplace had been lit there. He laughed and through his euphoria, he couldn’t feel any pain and it felt like he had sobered up. “Really? You’re telling the truth? You’re not pulling one on me?”

“They believe, Ponyboy.” Castor smiled warmly. “What are you feeling right now?”

“Happy! So unbelievably happy! I could kiss you right now!”

As soon as he said that, it felt like the world went silent as his words were fully processed. Ponyboy’s ears turned as red as a beet and he instantly grabbed the nearest object, a journal, to cover his face. Oh, God. What did he just say?

His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest. Why did he say that? He could have literally said anything, but he chose to say that sentence in particular. What was wrong with him?

What if Castor took it the wrong way and thought it was gross? It was disgusting. Instantly, his heart dropped to his stomach. He f*cked it up. Suddenly, he couldn’t bare to look at Castor because he knew what he said wasn’t normal.

“I… I… um…” Ponyboy gulped, trying to cover it up; bury it in the dirt as he had just been six feet under. “Sorry. It was just an expression.”

When Castor didn’t respond, he started to panic. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Oh, God, did he make it worse? A part of him was grateful that no words were spoken because he didn’t want to go through what was about to come next. But he also wanted to rip the bandage off and get it over with. Where was the brain fog when he needed it? Finally, Ponyboy got enough courage to peek over the edge of the journal and faltered when he saw that Castor wasn’t glaring daggers at him or looking at him in disgust. Instead, he was… blushing? Well, it was as much of a blush as a ghost could get.

“Yeah?” Castor stuttered, scratching the back of his neck.

It was then that Ponyboy remembered the kiss in the coffin and the blush returned tenfold. He could hardly remember what that felt like and it weirdly made him sad. He wondered if Castor was thinking about the same thing, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He wanted to feel that sensation again, despite the back of his mind telling him that he shouldn’t want such a thing. Was this what Soda was talking about before?

“Yeah…” Ponyboy mumbled.

“Yeah…” Castor awkwardly chuckled.

Ponyboy tried to force the conversation elsewhere. He looked at the journal in his hands. It was old and worn from use. Castor explained that it was the book he took from Mr. Flannigan’s car.

“I put that under your pillow so it wouldn’t be taken away,” Castor explained, happy for the change of topic. “The police have been questioning your friends. I didn’t want them to claim it. They think they had something to do with everything so they’re questioning them hard.”

“What?” Ponyboy looked worriedly at Castor. “But they didn’t do it.”

“Doesn’t matter. From law enforcement’s eyes, they saw people who knew exactly where you were buried without a hint. Steve tried to warn Darry about it and wanted to tell the police that you were jumped and had a plastic bag over your head, but Darry was insistent on catching the guy who did this to you. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up so they could question you too.”

Ponyboy placed his palms over his eyes. Now they really needed that proof. Would they even believe that Mr. Flannigan—the loved teacher by all—had done it? The only thing he managed to snag was the journal. He wondered what the teacher wrote in it.

There was a fresh layer of fog over his brain and he really couldn’t stand the ringing in his ears. All he wanted to do was lay back down, but he wasn’t disoriented enough to not recognize how urgent this all was.

Without a second delay, since he didn’t know when a nurse would walk in, he flipped the journal open. As soon as he did, he was met with a face staring back at him.

It was a picture of a boy that was around his age. He stared at the unseen camera with a thin smile on his face. The picture was old and had a crease running smack in the middle of it. At first, he thought it was a family member—an ancestor, maybe—but then his eyes trailed down to the text below it and his throat tightened.

I watched Lincoln be suffused with falsehood. I used to think that he was intelligent for his age but that had been his ruin. His fallacious thoughts strayed him from the righteous word. He questioned teachings; questioned the existence of all. He told me that there was nothing to fear after death and that there was no such thing as salvation as it was written in the books. He didn’t know that this type of mindset was going to condemn him. I must liberate him.

I want him to yearn for his deliverance. He needed to see and understand the correct truth. He needed to beg. I want him to see it right in his face and never be able to touch it. He doesn’t deserve such a gift. I wish I could observe his healing more as he is tied up above his parents’ business. My skin tingles at the thought of his parents being so close to Lincoln as his screams are muffled, yet never knowing how close he actually was. How lucky to be able to experience him lose hope as his life slowly cuts out.

What was this? He didn’t know what he just read.

Ponyboy flipped to the next page and was again met with another old photograph. This time, it was of a girl. He read the entry below it.

Lilith was a sweet, pretty girl, but her charm was a façade created to conceal a sultry vixen. I didn’t know if she could be capable of being purified, but when I saw her body so severed, split apart by air. Finally, she will be able to be cleansed and her body can be used for good for once. A flower she became, pretty just like the hundreds around it.

Were these Mr. Flannigan’s victims? Ponyboy didn’t recognize them, but what was written in the journal was horrible. There was no way that he just wrote this all for sh*ts and giggles.

He continued on.

I returned to the woods today. I was pleased to find Manual had been purified by the storm, the remaining snow melt running slurries across the boy’s corpse before rejoining the tributary. From there it would join the streams, and the rivers, and the ocean, and back to the sky. What beauty this poor boy has been granted. I know he is in a better place.

No longer would his innocent lungs are tainted by the addictions that enticed him and poisoned his young heart. No longer would he be corrupted by his salacious desires and indulgence. His body would no longer starve. After I released him from this world. His teeth would no longer chatter, not after the careful work of my hammer. He would no longer be cold as I send him off to his final resting place.

He flipped the page and there were changes that he instantly noticed. The first change he saw was the photo. It was newer than the others. The person in the photo hit him with déjà vu, and Ponyboy thought back and realized that this was the first person that went “missing”. His eyes darkened.

This proved that they were definitely no longer alive. Mr. Flannigan murdered them. Again, he read their entry. The tone of it was different. While the others made it seem like Mr. Flannigan was transfixed on emancipation, this one was written like he was angry. Words were spat out, cursing that the victim was greedy because of a stupid reason. All they did was not spare some change. Ponyboy didn’t think that warranted being crushed by a boulder until their eyeballs popped out. He shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” Castor asked. He hadn’t bothered to read over his shoulder, knowing how much Ponyboy didn’t like it when people did that. Pony kept his hand over his mouth. It was the only thing that kept him from vomiting.

“What he wrote is horrible…” Ponyboy mumbled, reading up to the ninth entry. He kept flipping the pages, taking all the murders in. It was like seeing them from the victims’ eyes. Pain, fear, hopelessness, regret—all emotions they were feeling. Tortured, cut, bashed, crushed, beat, burned, boiled, infected, drowned. Jesus Christ…

It was when he got to a later page that he started to see a pattern. The words were similar, although the stories were different. He flipped back to page one and then flipped to page ten. He did the same with the second and eleventh pages, and then the third and twelfth pages. Sure enough, they were similar, which meant that it was all a cycle. They repeated after every nine. His eyebrows scrunched together, and his head pounded.

Ponyboy thought back to when Mr. Flannigan spoke about his partner for an assignment. What was the word he used for him? Heresy? He used a word for Castor too: treachery. For some reason, those words seemed familiar to Pony, but he couldn’t place where he had heard them.

“What does it say?” Castor asked and Ponyboy tilted the journal for him to read the page he was on. The ghost leaned over, tickling the greaser’s ear. He decided there that he was fine if it was him who read over his shoulder, and only if it was him. Castor’s frown deepened and his eyes became unreadable, causing Ponyboy to shiver. “What is this? He acts like he’s some sort of messiah that’s punishing people for their sins. What the hell did this guy do but be a little greedy? All he did was not share with anyone.”

Greed… That was a sin. Some of the other entries insinuated lust, gluttony, and wrath. It was like he was targeting people who displayed any sign of the seven deadly sins, only that wasn’t right. The cycle was nine instead of seven.

Lust, gluttony, greed, wrath, heresy, treachery.

Besides these, the first in the cycle was always about questioning God’s existence. Whatever that meant. He didn’t know how that played in with anything. The eighth in the cycle always mentioned lying about who they were to get what they wanted. Fraud was the word that popped up in Ponyboy’s head.

Then there was the seventh in the cycle. It wasn’t the same. While the others were consistent, the entries that fell on this cycle were always different. The first time it appeared in the cycle, a teen who had beaten his girlfriend half to death after she had tried to break up with him ended up being boiled alive. The second time around, much to Pony’s disgust, a guy who had gotten caught jacking off with a rat ended up being Chinese water tortured but with acid. The third time it appeared, a girl who had attempted suicide after rumors had spread about her ended up being torn apart and buried in the park. That must have been the body they found.

Finally, Ponyboy realized why this all seemed familiar to him. Violence against others, violence against themselves, and violence against God. That was what the entries in the seventh part of the cycle were displaying. That meant the missing cycles of the nine were Violence and, by default, Limbo.

Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Wrath, Heresy, Violence, Fraud, and Treachery.

These were the nine circles of Hell that were depicted in Dante’s Inferno. Mr. Flannigan, the fanatic himself, must have wanted to emulate it in real life. He probably viewed the story like it was the Bible, a “message” from God himself.

Suddenly, the door opened and Ponyboy jumped out of his skin. He hurriedly scrambled to shove the journal under his blanket but relaxed when he saw that it was only Darry and Soda. As soon as the two brothers saw that he was awake, they wrapped him up in their arms and laughed.

“You’re finally awake!” Soda cheered, hugging him even tighter.

“Got a good beauty sleep, didn’t you?” Darry teased when the two of them let Ponyboy go.

“I feel like I didn’t get any sleep at all,” Ponyboy admitted. He still didn’t have any water to soothe his throat.

“How are you feeling? Any pain?” Soda asked, finding a seat to settle down in.

At the same time, Darry also asked. “Does anyone else know you’re awake?”

Ponyboy shook his head, deciding to ignore Soda’s question. He was in a lot of discomfort, but he didn’t want to admit that to any of them. Not even Castor. “I just woke up and no one came to check on me yet.”

“We should tell someone so we can get you checked up again.”

“Can we wait for a bit?” Ponyboy pleaded. He wanted to get as much time as possible to sort everything out. “I just woke up. I know that the police were questioning you too. I don’t want to be hounded yet.”

“How do you know that we were…” Darry stopped short and looked around the room. “Is Castor here?”

“He is.” The two of them locked eyes but Ponyboy quickly looked away when the butterflies started to fill his stomach. “He filled me in.”

Darry’s lips twitched, but it was unclear if it was because he still wasn’t used to Castor or not. He sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t think I will ever get used to that. So, is he always around?”

“Until we get him to move on.” Did Ponyboy even want that anymore?

“How do we do that?” Soda asked and Ponyboy knew he had to tell them everything. He just didn’t want to. His stomach dipped, knowing that Darry was going to go ballistic and the gang wouldn’t want him to continue his endeavor. There was no choice but to tell them though because the truth was going to come out sooner or later. It was better from him than another person.

He looked away and mumbled quietly. “We think we have to stop the person who killed him.”

Too bad they heard him because the room fell silent again. When he looked back, Darry’s eyes were hard and Soda’s were wide. Darry clutched the armrests on his chair until his knuckles turned white. He questioned, “Was this killer the one who did this to you?”

Ponyboy stiffly nodded. He tried to lift the corners of his mouth to make the situation seem like it was better than what it actually was, but who was he fooling? He sheepishly laughed. “He got the best of me this time.”

Darry’s eyes became colder. “There won’t be a next time. This ends here.”

His breath hitched in his throat. “But Darry—”

“You were almost killed! If we arrived any later, we would have lost you, can’t you understand that? What were you thinking anyway? Why did you think you could go after someone who wanted to kill you?”

“But he’s the one that’s causing all of these disappearances.” He really should have kept his trap shut.

Darry’s eyebrows rose. “And he’s the serial killer that’s been on the loose? Do you know how many people he killed? Are you crazy?”

Ponyboy looked to Castor for help in the situation, but the ghost shook his head and said, “Yeah, you buried yourself in that hole.”

Seriously? That joke was too soon. He grimaced and turned back to Darry. He argued, “But I have to!”

“You don’t!” Darry objected. “Castor can find someone else to help him!”

“I don’t want him to find someone else!” Ponyboy screamed, throat tightening. His jaw clenched. Just the thought of Castor with anyone else both angered and terrified him. His hands clenched his blanket. “I’m the only one who can help him. Nobody else.”

“He’s a ghost and you’re still alive. Your life is more precious than his. He doesn’t have anything else to lose, but you do.”

“Ouch…” Castor mumbled, rubbing his arm.

Ponyboy scoffed, “Why are you talking about him like he’s invalid? He’s a person too and I want to help him!”

“Well, you’re not going to, you dig?” Darry finalized. “Let the police handle it! You’re just a kid—my kid brother! You’re not invincible.”

The younger greaser shook his head defiantly. “I don’t have a choice though.”

“But you do. You’re the one who’s trying to go after a killer. You don’t have to do that. That killer will leave you alone and try to go after someone else eventually.”

“You don’t understand!” Ponyboy hissed. “He’s going to come after me and finish the job. There isn’t going to be another target until I’m dead. I’m not safe sitting around.”

“How do you know that? You’re safe now,” Soda commented.

Ponyboy pulled out the journal. He counted the edges of the pages down to the twenty-seventh entry. If his theory was correct, then this should be his page. He flipped to it and bingo. His picture was front and center—cut out from an old yearbook. Below it was his entry. It was incomplete, but it was there.

I feel as if Ponyboy is betraying me, just like Castor. Apparently, Castor’s spirit has been hanging around him. He sees him and they are in cahoots with each other. I must stop Ponyboy’s spirit from dirtying any further. My sweet, bona fide Ponyboy. I want to protect him but now it might be too late. I fear he will be the most monstrous sinner of them all. There isn’t much time. He’s going to betray me at any moment.

What a shame, really. I will need to finish up his coffin that I made special for him. Washing away all his impurities is the only way.

It was weird to read his own, incomplete entry. If Mr. Flannigan succeeded in healing him, how would his page end? He would never know.

“I took this journal from him,” Ponyboy explained. “All of his victims are in here. He didn’t succeed with me. I’m still next.”

And to be honest, Ponyboy was starting to believe that being buried alive was just Mr. Flannigan scaring him. It wouldn’t make sense for him to throw away his pattern even if he felt threatened. He was probably about to unearth him, but the gang arrived before he could do that.

“But the police are involved now,” Soda spoke up. “Can’t you tell them who did this to you, and it’ll all be over?”

Sure, he could tell them, and he was going to. But as soon as he does, the journal will be taken away. Ponyboy was onto something, and he had a feeling that the detective on this case was going to miss major clues if he rendered the journal to them. What if Pony could find where the victims were? No matter what, Ponyboy was going to do something. Sorry, guys, Ponyboy thought.

He nodded, “Fine. I’ll talk to them, but before I do that, can you get me some stuff to write with? That and a copy of Dante’s Inferno?”

“Why do you need all of that? Got inspired to write?” Soda asked. Ponyboy nodded. He hated lying to them, but it had to be done. He couldn’t trust the police as much as himself.

“It’ll help pass the time and get my thoughts together,” Ponyboy said.

“Did you just lie to him?” Castor said. Ponyboy pressed his lips into a thin line as an answer.

The door opened again and their conversation quieted down. A nurse strolled inside, and her eyes instantly fell on Ponyboy. She brightened up and chirped, “You’re awake.”

“Nurse, can I go to the window?” the old patient that Ponyboy forgot about asked. He was ignored as she held open the door again.

“Let me go inform your doctor, okay? I’ll be right back.”

When she left, Soda and Darry stood up like that was a trigger. Ponyboy looked at that in confusion.

“We’re going to step out. We’re going to update the gang that you’re awake,” Soda informed, petting Pony’s head. “You should get some rest after this. The police will probably want to talk to you soon.”

“Make sure you tell them everything,” Darry pointedly repeated, giving him a pointed look. “Savvy?”

“I’ll talk to them,” Ponyboy replied.

Darry shook his head like what he said was wrong. “Tell me you’re going to tell them everything.”

Ponyboy sighed, putting the journal back under his blanket. “I’ll tell them as much as I can.”

He just couldn’t tell them about Castor.

Satisfied enough, Darry continued, “We’re going to get going and Castor should leave too.”

“Me too?” Castor asked, pointing to himself curiously.

“Castor too?” Ponyboy asked at the same time. “Why?”

Castor started to whine, flailing his arms around wildly. “I don’t wanna go. Ponyboy, tell him that he’s not my dad.”

Christ… Ponyboy wanted to hit his forehead. He might have done it if he wasn’t injured. “I’m not going to tell him that.”

“Tell me what?” Darry asked.

“He doesn’t want to go.”

Darry sighed. “Well, you need your sleep and I have a feeling he never leaves you alone. You don’t need any distractions.”

“Am I really that annoying?” Castor pouted. When Ponyboy didn’t respond, he yelled, “Say something!”

“I can’t tell him to go. That’s his decision.” And Ponyboy didn’t want him to go. What if Mr. Flannigan sneaks into the hospital to finish the job? And it just didn’t feel right without him there. They were two sides of the same coin after all.

“If you want him to stay, that’s fine,” Soda said before Darry could object. “But please rest for us. We’re going to get what you asked for. We’ll come back with the gang later, okay?”

There wasn’t much exchanged after that. They soon left when the doctor came inside the room. And when the doctors left after a general check-up, Ponyboy felt like he finally could get a breath of fresh air. His head was pounding even after he was given some pain medication and he wanted to sleep so badly. However, there was work that had to be done before his interrogation.

Chapter 19: Poof! Gone with the Wind

Chapter Text

Despite all the whining, Castor actually did have somewhere he needed to go after the check-up. Ponyboy could tell he was hesitant to leave, but the greaser reassured him that he would be fine. In reality, he was nervous to be left alone. There were several staff members outside and he shared the room with another patient, but he feared that Mr. Flannigan was going to find him and finish the job. If, somehow, he did get past everyone and entered the room, Ponyboy wasn’t sure if he would be able to fend him off with his injuries. Heck, even without them, he probably stood no chance. He broke Mr. Flannigan’s nose and there was no reaction, for Christ’s sake.

When Ponyboy was alone and everything started to settle down for the night, Ponyboy flipped open the journal and the book Darry got him from a nearby store. His brothers wanted to ensure that he had what he wanted before they went home. He flipped around Dante’s Inferno, skimming through the text and matching it with what Mr. Flannigan had written in his journal. Everything from the sins to the order of the circles in hell, and the punishments matched perfectly.

This confirmed Ponyboy’s theory. His teacher was putting the story into real life.

Without further ado, he started to copy down the entries word by word to keep a record for himself for later. Then he got to page 18, Castor’s page. He was smiling brightly in the Polaroid picture—that childish grin that caused his cheekbones to protrude and wrinkles to thunder out the sides of his eyes. He was next to Mr. Flannigan at some school game, dressed in our school colors and paint on their faces. If it wasn’t clear that they were teacher and student, they would have looked like close friends. Although, now knowing more about Mr. Flannnigan, the light in his eyes was nonexistent.

A sigh left Ponyboy’s mouth. He wished that he had known Castor before he had died. However, he knew that they would have never interacted with each other, and if they somehow did, they wouldn’t have been on friendly terms, which made him sad to realize. But the photo created possibilities in his head. He was so transfixed on the image that he didn’t want to read the entry that was right under to avoid breaking the illusion. But he had to at some point.

He tapped his pencil on the page and, with a deep breath, started to copy.

What exactly is a friend? A friend should be someone you can trust. That said, why did he betray me? I cared for Castor, but I was naïve to put my faith in him. I shouldn’t have cherished him so much. I thought he was pure, but he made such a mask that it even fooled me for a while. A liar is what he is; a traitor. When he saw me doing my job and then ran to find law enforcement, it broke my heart. His lying and treachery made him rotten to the core. He needed something that would cleanse him from the lungs out. I believe I succeeded in this because when I returned to the river, his body was as pale as the snow that bordered the stream.

His body traveled from where it was dropped, caught in a strong current between rocks and tangled with deadweight and other limbs. It touched the murky water near the sewage pipe. I needed to move it. This water must not ruin his healing. I needed to merge him with the Earth so that he could be reborn anew all cleansed. All sin must be left behind under the dirt of the sugarberry.

He hated this. All of this was f*cked up. How could Mr. Flanigan do this? Ponyboy’s hands were shaking as he forced himself to continue writing sloppy words. Anger bloomed in his gut and it caused his vision to tunnel. For a sick minute, Ponyboy wanted to retaliate and make Mr. Flannigan feel the same fear that Castor felt. He slammed the journal shut and let out a frustrated growl.

If only he could turn back time to remove the image of Castor’s decaying body from his mind. Man, he needed a long break to calm himself down.

“I want to look out the window and see the stars,” the elderly man, who was now sitting in his wheelchair, said. Ponyboy stuffed everything under his pillow and looked over. The poor guy had been begging to look outside all day, but none of the nurses wanted to do it. Sue him for taking pity on him.

“I can take you over to it if you’d like,” Ponyboy offered. He could at least try anyway. His limbs were still sore even with the pain medication.

There was a long pause as the other guy stared straight at Ponyboy without blinking. His eyes slowly blackened out as if he had popped out the lenses of sunglasses and held them over his eyes with his eyelids. “WOULD YOU?”

Ponyboy violently flinched, cursing internally. He hadn’t realized at all that the old man was a ghost. He had been careless but every day they started to blend in more and more with regular, living beings. No wonder he was being ignored by everyone. In a panic, Ponyboy tore his eyes away to look up at the sky and sang in all his cracking, tone-deaf glory, “We’re lost in a cloud with too much rain… We’re trapped in a world…”

It was so random and out of place that he prayed that he hadn’t been caught. He hummed, squirming under the ghost’s stare. Luckily, it didn’t seem like the ghost found it peculiar that he started to sing a random song. The lyrics to Elvis’s If I Can Dream didn’t fit with the stars at all. It was only the first song that popped up in his head.

“I WANT TO SEE THE STARS TOO.” The old man’s voice sounded like it was right in his ears even though he hadn’t moved. Ponyboy sang louder to block it out but the ghost increased his volume as well. “CAN YOU TAKE ME TO SEE THEM?”

He just had to wait it out.

“HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Ponyboy continued to watch the ghost through the reflection on the glass.

“STOP SINGING AND LISTEN TO ME.”

He couldn’t take this for much more.

“Bathroom,” Ponyboy said, coming up with a new excuse. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling his knees buckle as he tried to stand up. His vision started to tilt, and he had to grab onto the edge to steady himself. He marched like a robot out of the room, taking care not to glance at the ghost.

There weren’t many nurses around, but the hallways were far from quiet and empty. He walked down them, keeping his eyes on the floor as he passed by ghost after ghost. Their grimy feet stuck into his range of vision with nails that were long and jagged. He was so focused on not looking up that he soon found himself lost.

When he finally did focus, he found himself in a hallway that seemed empty, a real change from the one he was previously in. The temperature had dropped drastically, enough to penetrate the socks he was given. He shivered, rubbing his arms up and down as he examined what was in front of him. The hallway seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, surrounded by a tunnel of peeling paint. The lights flickered above him and the doors to all the rooms were as dark as the night.

Ponyboy took a tentative step forward and then another one. He must have made a wrong turn somewhere. He looked around for a directional sign but found none. Maybe he should turn back.

To his horror, when he did turn around on his heels, the hallway stretched endlessly. The path that he was on before was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, a shriek of metal echoed off the walls and Ponyboy spun back around. The metal screeching continued, mixing with the sound of something rolling. It got louder and soon a rusty gurney rolled out of a room without someone to push it. Ponyboy’s hair stood on its ends as his sweat became unbearably cold against the groove of his back. His body tensed up. The gurney rolled until it clanged to a stop against a wall.

“Hello?” Ponyboy called out. The only answer he received was the light the light that flickered out, leaving him in darkness. The boy stood as still as a statue as the temperature dropped even more.

He had expected something to have happened to him while he was so vulnerable, but soon the lights came back on. However, he wasn’t alone anymore. Far away, a silhouette stood crooked. It was bony and thin. Its spine was bent sideways, almost at a 90-degree angle and its arms were stretched out like a ballerina.

The lights turned off again before they flickered back on. The figure was closer now. Again, the lights flickered, and again the figure was closer. Soon they were flickering like strobe lights, and it seemed like the figure started to full on sprint at him.

“WHERE IS IT? TELL ME WHERE IT IS!” it screamed. “I WANT TO PLAY!”

Ponyboy almost turned around and ran, getting more lost than ever in the endless hallway. If it wasn’t for the sharp pain that shot through his legs, he would have done so, so maybe it was good that he was injured at that moment. It reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to react. He pressed his toes into the tile and grimaced, trying his best not to show any expression on his face as each flicker of light brought the ghost closer to him. Within seconds, it was right in front of him.

Ponyboy turned away and mumbled to himself with shaky lips, “Where was the bathroom again? Must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

“HEY, YOU. WON’T YOU HELP ME FIND IT?” the ghost asked.

The greaser turned away and looked at the wall. He counted the doors down the hallway—no exits. “I thought they told me it was this way. Maybe I should go back and ask again to make sure.”

“I’M TALKING TO YOU!” The ghost suddenly wrapped him up with its limbs. His body went instantly ice cold, stomach flipping like he was on the worst roller coaster in the world. Ponyboy’s legs wobbled as it bent its crooked neck in front of his face. “I NEED IT! TAKE ME TO IT SO WE CAN PLAY!”

Sweat fell down Ponyboy’s temples as the face got closer until it swallowed him whole. His vision went dark. A wave of emotions that weren’t his hit him—sadness, boredom, loneliness, and betrayal. None of them were his.

Ponyboy stayed perfectly still, taking a deep breath through his nose as he waited for the inevitable, whatever that was. He didn’t want to speak nor did he want to continue breathing in fear that he would inhale the ghost. He was almost tempted to hold his breath. But stopping was suspicious and he was forced to continue commenting on how lost he was. The ghost never did anything else.

Slowly, Ponyboy’s initial fear started to simmer down. Was this something he had to be afraid of? Probably not. It wasn’t doing anything to him. It made him realize that maybe ghosts weren’t as terrifying and dangerous as he thought. Just like Castor, they phased through everything. The only way they would be able to injure him was if they pushed or threw objects at him, but most ghosts couldn’t even do that.

He didn’t know why they liked to lunge at him when they suspected he could see them. Maybe some of them wanted to latch onto someone who could see them, as Castor did. Or maybe they wanted to scare him so they could inhabit his body. Each ghost was different just like how each living person was as well. Maybe they wanted to be seen or maybe they didn’t like that. It all depended on the ghost. But this one in particular just wanted someone to play with them.

“I’ll just keep going,” Ponyboy said and walked through the ghost. His vision returned and he didn’t look back at it. He observed the contents of each door as the ghost stalked him. The lights flickered out behind it like a wall that was slowly crushing him, but Ponyboy didn’t react to it. Nose pointed straight ahead, he walked.

He felt like he had been walking for hours. By now his feet were burning like he had been walking on hot coals. The hallway stretched on, and everything looked the same. He wondered if he was even doing anything, but that was when he saw it. In one of the rooms, there was a pink rubber ball. It stood out like it was the main focus point of an art piece. Ponyboy picked it up and held it in front of his face. In his peripheral vision, he saw the ghost go still and instantly put the pieces together. This was what the ghost had been looking for. He spun it around on his five fingertips and bounced it in the air a few times. Well, here goes nothing.

Ponyboy pretended to accidentally stumble with the ball, allowing it to fall on the floor and roll towards the ghost. He didn’t turn around to see the ghost’s reaction. Instead, he continued to walk forward. It wasn’t long until something brushed against his ankle. The ball had rolled back to him. He bent down and said loud enough for the ghost to hear, “Is the floor uneven?”

He rolled it back and again the ball rolled to him after a few minutes. Ponyboy tilted his head to get a better look at the ghost and found that the crooked figure had shrunk into a little girl, no older than six. She was crouched like he was, her yellow dress tucked under her knees. She giggled when she got the ball again.

“Let’s play more and more, mister,” she laughed, clapping her hands.

This wasn’t so terrifying after all. She was a ghost yet it was clear that she was just a child. They rolled the ball for a few more rounds before Ponyboy decided it was time to go.

“Oh well. Nothing I can do with the flooring. Better find the bathroom now,” he said, standing up. Like before, he didn’t look back to see if he had done anything for the ghost. Something told him that he wasn’t supposed to watch this part so he listened to this voice. The ball never rolled back to him. The giggles were gone along with a gust of wind that brushed by his face. He closed his eyes, feeling the coldness and heaviness of the room become lifted. When he opened them again, he found himself back in the busy hallway. He guessed that was that.

Instead of going to the bathroom, Ponyboy returned to his room.

When he got there, Ponyboy was totally exhausted, but the lifted feeling from his chest had him looking at the old man who was still mumbling about seeing the outside. While Ponyboy was still scared, it wasn’t the same type of fear that had him grasped in its fist. The other spirit—as scary as her appearance was at first—was just a little girl who wanted someone to play with. This one didn’t look nearly as freaky, and he just wanted to go to the window.

This ghost wasn’t going to hurt him (probably), but Ponyboy knew he could. It was that unknown that scared him the most. He wasn’t sure how he was going to differentiate between ghosts that would hurt him and those that wouldn’t, but he could at least try to help spirits. He promised Castor he was going to give it a shot anyway. Still, Ponyboy was going to do what he did best: pretend he wasn’t able to see them. This time, he was determined to also help the senior move on.

Ponyboy took a deep breath. He grabbed the wheelchair that the ghost was sitting in, ignoring when the man looked up at him with his soulless eyes. He gripped the handles hard and pressed his nails down onto them.

“CAN YOU SEE ME?” the ghost asked.

“This would be a good seat,” Ponyboy said. He rolled the wheelchair to the window but didn’t sit down. He leaned his weight on the wheelchair instead but made sure not to roll it forward. Ponyboy tried to look at the stars which weren’t very visible because of light pollution, but the reflection of the old man was too large.

The ghost was staring at the stars, mesmerized as if they took his breath away. His mouth was parted as his body leaned forward to get a better look.

“THE STARS,” he said. “THE STARS. I CAN SEE THEM. THEY’RE JUST AS BEAUTIFUL AS I REMEMBERED THEM TO BE.”

There was a pause before the ghost continued, “HEY, CAN YOU SEE ME?”

And just like always, Ponyboy stayed silent, wishing that he would hurry it up and move on.

“MAYBE I WAS MISTAKEN.”

It took several minutes until Ponyboy had that feeling to look away again. He closed his eyes, feeling that familiar wind brush by him. But when he opened them again, he caught the end of whatever happened. Outside the window, he saw glittering dust that float precariously with the wind until they joined the stars. The wheelchair was now unoccupied. All that was left behind was a memory.

It was over just like that. Quickly and uneventfully. He was happy for the ghosts because he had a feeling that they were able to finally move on.

“Hey, Castor,” Ponyboy spoke to himself, looking up at the sky, “looks like I was able to get two ghosts to move on. Aren’t you proud of me?”

He spoke in a way that made it seem like Castor had moved on already. He didn’t like the feel of the words on his tongue. Pony let out a half-hearted chuckle, eyes growing sad. This was how it was supposed to go, but one day, he knew that it would be Castor’s turn to turn to dissipate. Would he leave quickly and uneventfully like the other two? Would his dust be as blue as his eyes?

He was going to have to get used to talking about Castor in such a way—with the same tone he uses whenever he visits his parents and the cemetery. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Hey, Castor,” he started again, voice quiet. “Can I be selfish too? I don’t want you to leave me.”

Chapter 20: Kind of an Awkward Conversation

Chapter Text

Castor returned mere minutes before the interrogation started with the police. Towed behind him were Johnny and Dally, but Ponyboy didn’t see them at first. The young greaser’s face instantly brightened when he saw Castor. It was like the ghost had flipped a switch within his chest because his heart instantly felt as light as feathers. The corners of his mouth lifted upward until his cheekbones showed, and lines formed at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re back,” Ponyboy beamed. He sat up straighter, bubbling with excitement. “Castor, guess what?”

The ghost couldn’t help but smile widely back, infected by Pony’s grin. He hummed, “Hm? What’s up, Lil’ Grease?”

“I did it! I helped not one, but two ghosts move on.” He held out his fingers to emphasize his point.

If possible, Castor’s face became even brighter. He hopped up and down and a laugh escaped his throat. “No way! You did? That’s amazing! So, you’re no longer scared of ghosts?”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Ponyboy was still terrified of them. Even if he was able to do this, he wanted to keep contact with them to a minimum.

A hand touched the top of his head, sending jolts throughout his body. Castor praised, “But I’m so proud of you, nonetheless. Good job.”

Ponyboy felt like he was going to explode from this bubbly feeling. His toes wiggled under the blanket as a blush made its way to his cheeks. He wanted to be praised by him more and more until he would explode from this feeling. He pressed his head upward to feel more of the touch, craving it about just as much. Castor, in return, started to pet his hair with his thumb, eyes glimmering lovingly.

A clearing of the throat snapped them out of their own little world. Oh, right. They weren’t alone. The hand left his head and Ponyboy mourned the loss.

“Forgot about you two for a sec,” Castor said, putting his arms behind his head. He explained to Ponyboy, “I brought them here to help with your interrogation.”

“He already caught us up,” Dally informed cooly. “But, man, it was your teacher all along?”

“It’s hard to believe,” Ponyboy admitted.

“I can’t believe he buried you alive,” Johnny said, hands shaking and eyes stricken. “Who would do something like that? Do you think he’ll come back?”

Ponyboy let out a sigh. He had to break the bad news to them. He nodded. “I think so. It was in his journal.”

“His journal?”

“I took it from him. It has all of his victims in there, including me.” So Ponyboy caught them up on the stuff he suspected. They nodded along, not interrupting him once.

Once he finished, Dally ran his fingers through his hair and breathed out, “This is getting crazier by the minute.”

“Do you think the police are going to blame the gang for burying me?” Ponyboy worriedly asked the question that had been keeping him up all night.

“Can’t stop them from thinking that, man. No matter what, they’re major suspects.”

Ponyboy didn’t like that one bit. “Can’t we do anything about that?”

“Sure. Tell the police who did it and hope that he doesn’t have anything to turn the story around.”

It seemed simple enough…

The door opened and the detectives walked in, and Johnny reassured him one last time that they were going to help him get through this. The detectives introduced themselves and went over his rights and whatnot, which made the situation seem a lot scarier than it actually was. He knew that he shouldn’t be worried because he had proof, but he just couldn’t help it.

“With that, let’s get going,” the detective said, lightening the tone to ease the boy’s nervousness. “Let’s start from the beginning. Can you tell us what you were doing before this happened?”

“I was in school,” Ponyboy replied. “I was leaving and bumped into my teacher. I helped him bring his things to his car. He banged my head on his car. The plate—”

“Don’t give them that much detail,” Dally warned. “Only liars and the guilty provide specific detail. The less, the better.”

“What? Really? Wouldn’t it be better to tell them everything?” Castor asked. Johnny chirped in his question on the statement as well.

“When you’re involved in something like this, your memory will be hazy. Even on a day you didn’t go through this crap, you wouldn’t remember specific details about things around you. The detectives expect you to not remember much during a questioning. If you give specific details, it shows that you came up with an entire story beforehand.” He said that with a listen-closely-because-this-is-the-only-time-I’ll-explain-it tone. Fortunately, Castor understood and closed his mouth.

“The plate… Not sure. Sorry,” Ponyboy sheepishly said.

A detective wrote things down without acknowledging his slip-up. He questioned, “And which teacher was this?”

“Mr. Flannigan. Um… Mark Flannigan, I think his name was. He teaches at Will Rogers High School.”

“Mark Flannigan…” one of the detectives hummed and looked at his partner. “Doesn’t that name ring a bell?”

“He’s a pastor at my church, the one I told you about that’s really good at his preaching. Super powerful messages. He puts a lot of time into upkeeping the church too.”

“I didn’t know he taught at this school.”

“He does on the weekdays.”

The two detectives turned back to Ponyboy. “Are you saying that Mark Flannigan did this to you?”

“He did,” Ponyboy stated earnestly.

They both looked doubtful as if they were wondering why a “good Samaritan” like Mark Flannigan would do something like this at all. Ponyboy dampened his chapped lips with his tongue while they wrote down what he said. “Is there anything that you think motivated him to do this?”

Here’s the chance to bring the journal up. Ponyboy nodded and placed the journal in front of him. “Because he believed I was a sinner. I took this from him before he buried me.”

The detectives looked at each other before they took the journal from him. One of them flipped through it before he closed it with a snap. “And you didn’t surrender this evidence, why?”

“I…” Ponyboy swallowed, mind blank.

“Just tell them you were unconscious, man,” Dally offered. “That’s literally it.”

“I was unconscious until recently.”

They shifted the questions. “Let’s talk about what happened after. Four individuals found you. Can you confirm who they were and their relations with you?”

“Sodapop and Darrel are my brothers. Two… I mean, Keith Matthews and Steve Randle are close friends.” That definitely was a stretch for Steve. Perhaps it would have been more fitting to say he was a family friend or just Soda’s buddy.

“We have reason to believe that they were the main culprits to this.”

“They didn’t!” Ponyboy rapidly shook his head, breath catching in his throat. “They didn’t do nothing. They would never!”

“How can you be for sure?”

“Because they just wouldn’t! I grew up with them around. I know them. They were trying to save me. Mr. Flannigan was the one who did it. He’s the one who attacked me and threw me in the coffin.”

“But then, tell me, how did your family and friends find you? They didn’t have any clue of your whereabouts.”

What was he supposed to say? Ponyboy hesitated. He couldn’t tell them the truth. He bit the inside of his cheeks. The detectives, who, without a doubt, were already noting his hesitance and shifty behavior, waited for his answer.

Johnny mentioned, “Maybe you need to match with what the gang said when they were questioned?”

But what did they say?

“Or would it be better to play dumb and just say that you don’t know anything?” Castor suggested.

Dally huffed, “Tell them this: Maybe it was a stroke of luck, I don’t know. They probably noticed that I never came home and came out to look for me. They must have heard me screaming.”

Ponyboy repeated what was said to them and again they jotted down notes. Ponyboy fiddled with his fingers and hoped that they would accept it. The detectives drilled him for a while longer, asking questions like when everything occurred, where he was brought, and what was verbally exchanged. Dally constantly stepped in when he needed help and warned him whenever he was about to f*ck everything up. With how much he knew, Dally probably would have been able to do their job—play bad cop—but he wouldn’t have been able to because of his arrestments. Besides, Ponyboy couldn’t imagine Dally being in law enforcement. No way. He associated the word fun with illegal.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the detectives closed their notebooks. One of them said, “Thank you for answering our questions. If you will excuse us, my partner and I have to go over our notes, but we will contact you if we need anything more from you.”

After short farewells, they left and Ponyboy slumped down in his bed, exhausted. He hoped everything was going to be alright now and that they would take his accusation seriously. He knew that Mr. Flannigan was going to be brought in for questioning now and that was where it was going to get questionable. With the good rep he had, he was sure that the teacher was going to find a way to smooth talk his way out of it. He bit the nail on his thumb as Dally went to spy on the detectives to hear what they were discussing behind closed doors.

“Don’t worry. He’s a goner,” Castor reassured but Ponyboy wasn’t so sure about that.

“He’s right,” Johnny agreed. “They’re going to catch him. They won’t take this lightly.”

“He’s a serial killer and you gave them a clue that points at him. It’s over. Kapoosh.”

But then, why did Ponyboy have such a bad feeling about all this?

Not much happened after that. Dally did come back, but alas, the detectives didn’t discuss anything of importance because they still had to evaluate the evidence. Eventually, he was allowed to return home, much to his relief. He couldn’t stand another night in that hospital. But when he returned to his house and saw that the gang was waiting for him, he started to think otherwise. It didn’t take long for him to notice they were all looking at him differently.

Ponyboy didn’t know how to describe it. Before, they just looked at him like he had grown another head and was speaking an alien language. Now, it almost seemed like they were skeptical—perhaps even afraid—to interact with him. Their eyes skittered around the room nervously, unable to land on Ponyboy’s form. He didn’t know what was worse: having them treat him like he was a freak show’s main attraction or just trying to ignore him.

He tapped his leg as he sat on the couch. The silence was long and unbearable. The gang must have also been thinking the same thing because Steve decided to break the silence.

“So, who was the guy that did that to you?” he asked, oddly gentle with his tone.

“Mr. Flannigan,” Ponyboy responded, tapping his fingers together. This was too weird. It felt so uncomfortable to be here; like he was a stranger in his own home. He knew them for as long as he could remember but they seemed so far away from him now. It wasn’t like this before.

“Your teacher?”

The younger boy nodded. “I was his next target. He killed all those people that went missing.”

Everyone looked at him incredulously. Soda and Darry knew the basic gist of everything but even they were still surprised. Many questions were on their tongues.

“But now they’re going to get him,” Darry informed. “They’ve probably already arrested him.”

“How did you get involved in this anyway?” Two-Bit asked. Ponyboy had been involved in too many cases in his lifetime. It wasn’t too long ago that he was involved in a murder rap with Johnny. Social Services finally took their spotlights off of him, but now they were going to come back even worse. It was a concern they all had. They barely managed to convince them to let him stay last time. What was going to happen now?

“I just started to see things, is all,” Ponyboy answered, casting a quick glance at Castor who was nervously staring a hole into the ground.

“Jesus. You could talk to ghosts? You weren’t lying?” Steve mumbled.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Two-Bit asked and Ponyboy twitched.

“I did.” He tried to hold back the venom as best as he could. The question was an instant trigger, opening up wounds he didn’t know he had. Those two words tasted bitter on his tongue. Was Two-Bit seriously asking him this? Were all of them wondering the same thing? His hands balled up into fists. How many times had he told them? He lost count. He shouldn’t have been so irritated, but all of his previous frustrations that he had been stuffing into a bottle were finally being released. Because how dare they ask him that? They were trying to shift blame onto him as if they didn’t do anything wrong. “I told you multiple times. I never lied to you once about that. You’re the ones who never believed me. ‘Why didn’t I tell you?’ Don’t make it into something I did wrong when it was all of you who treated me like a freak.”

“We weren’t blaming you for anything,” Soda tried to reason but Ponyboy wasn’t having any of it. He was on a roll now.

“You just did.”

Darry was quick to cut in, “There isn’t anyone to blame here.”

“Maybe so but why didn’t any of you believe me?” Ponyboy growled. “I know it’s hard to believe, but you had to know I wasn’t lying. Why would I lie about being able to see Dally and Johnny? I would never do that. You know that. Instead, you wanted to take me in to get my head checked.”

They all shifted uncomfortably. The words were hitting them hard.

“We’re sorry,” Soda apologized when no one spoke. “It’s just so hard to believe.”

“I know.” Ponyboy didn’t know what he was expecting from them. An apology? Maybe. But it wouldn’t make him feel better. There was no satisfaction to it and it would feel like they were leaving an issue open instead of closing it.

“We believe you now,” Two-Bit reassured and those words still caused Ponyboy’s heart to feel lighter. He heard it from Castor and Soda and Darry talked about it as well, but it still felt like he was hearing those words for the first time. “Pretty hard not to.”

“That’s right,” Soda agreed, nodding earnestly. “Now we know and can go forward from here.”

Honestly? Ponyboy liked that a lot more than a sorry. He gave Soda a tight yet grateful smile and looked down at his hands. “Thank you.”

And he meant that.

“So, you can actually see Dally and Johnnycakes? Are they here right now?” Two-Bit asked out of the blue. Ponyboy nodded and watched all of their breaths hitch. They all sat at the edges of their seats in anticipation.

“Do they have anything they want to say to us?” Darry asked curiously.

Ponyboy looked over at the two. Johnny looked a bit flustered at the sudden attention he was receiving. He fidgeted under the stares of everyone even though only Ponyboy was looking at him directly and the gang was just following where Ponyboy was looking. A huge contrast from Dally who only crossed his arms and legs.

“I…” Johnny started. He never was good at Adlib. Castor gave him a thumbs up and he took a deep breath. “I miss you guys... I don’t regret dying, but I hate that my time with you all came to an end. Thank you for taking care of me until the end. You were the family I always wanted and never deserved. I wasn’t worth the trouble you all went through to help me, but, golly, do I appreciate it. I never got the chance to thank you even though you were all what kept me living. You made it worth it. So, thank you.”

It was simple but, after repeating those words to the gang, it all sent a pang in their hearts. Ponyboy could feel his eyes water after hearing his best friend say that. He sniffled. Johnny deserves to feel at peace. The only times he was able to do so was when he was with them—away from his abrasive homelife, hidden from cruel people outdoors, and comforted by the safety of the gang. Johnny deserved the world.

He wasn’t sure what was keeping him behind or how he would be able to help him move on, but he knew that Johnny wouldn’t mind waiting for him to figure it out. He was that type of person. Even though he often degraded himself, Johnny was the one who was gold.

“You never have to thank us,” Steve said. Everyone nodded fervently. For them, everything was done unconditionally. Never had they ever felt like Johnny owed them a thank you. Johnny’s face twitched as if he was trying to find a way to thank them still, but he relaxed, letting his eyes glimmer with affection.

“We miss you too,” Soda said, yearning to be able to see and speak to him just like how Ponyboy could.

“No matter what, we’re a gang, right?” Two-Bit added. “We gotta stick together, thick and thin.”

“And you’re always welcome here,” Darry included. “Just give us a sign when you’re around.”

Johnny chuckled lightly, “Thank you.”

“Hey, Johnnycake,” Ponyboy laughed, wiping away any sign of stray tears with the back of his hand. “What did we say about not having to thank us?”

Just from that, the gang knew what Johnny said, causing all of them to laugh, something they haven’t been able to do together for several months. It was like any tension they had had been lifted. It wasn’t even a funny joke, but it was enough.

“Okay,” Two-Bit wheezed. “What about you, Dal?”

Dally, not really into sappy words, shrugged, “Do you think I’m going to talk like a pansy?”

Johnny pointed at himself, “Do you think that of me?”

“sh*t.” Instantly recognizing his blunder, Dally spun towards Johnny and hurriedly tried to correct himself. There was a slight panic in his voice that would have gone undetected if the people that could hear him were anybody besides Ponyboy and Johnny. He shook his head. “I don’t think that, savvy? Just this emotional crap in general.”

The gang waited patiently for Ponyboy to say something, but after a minute, Two-Bit asked, “Is he telling you an entire story or something?”

Chuckling under his breath, Ponyboy shook his head, “No. He just said…”

“Tell him that he misses them so much that his heart is going to explode,” Castor teasingly suggested. He put his hands together and placed them near one of his cheeks, batting his eyes. “Tell them that he can’t contain how much he loves them and seeing them makes his heart pound.”

Does Castor have a death wish?

“Like hell, he will!” Dally growled.

Playing along, Ponyboy said, “He said that he misses you guys a whole lot and that it’s boring to be a ghost. He wants to hang out all the time.”

Funny. He must have had a death wish too.

Dally’s eyebrow rose, “Hey! Why’d you gotta go and tell them that? Do you want me to haunt everyone’s asses here?”

Ponyboy didn’t even miss a beat. “He said he is going to haunt your asses.”

Dally was astonished and, for once, he really had no words. Castor, meanwhile, was cackling (even Johnny was giggling), whacking his knee repeatedly with one hand and holding the other up for a high-five. The gang gave Pony a funny look when he saw him high-five the air. What just happened?

“Perfect,” Castor wheezed. “You’re incredible, Ponyboy.”

“He said that?” Steve questioned. It didn’t sound like him. Ponyboy shrugged.

The lights started to flicker and Ponyboy wasn’t sure if it was because Dally was annoyed or because Castor was helping him out. He hoped it was the latter. Ponyboy cleared his throat, “Looks like it’s starting. He’s now this house’s poltergeist it would seem.”

“For f*ck’s sake!” Dally yelled.

“I can hear him scream right now.”

The gang didn’t know what to make of this. They exchanged glances for serval moments, figuring that Ponyboy somehow grew the balls to tease Dally like this. Darry stepped in to continue their previous conversation. He asked, “Have you seen Mom and Dad? Are they here right now too?”

Ponyboy shook his head, scooting away from Dally. The joke was over. He sighed, “No… I think they moved on.”

He would rather think that than see them as one of the other types of ghosts. His brothers nodded in understanding.

“Good,” Darry said. “I’m glad.”

But there was disappointment in his voice. He had wanted to speak to them even if for a bit. Pony and Soda did as well. They were glad that their parents probably moved on, but, if they were ghosts, they could have potentially become a full family again. But they had to wonder if that would have been torture or not. Soda and Darry couldn’t see or speak to them. Would just having their presence there be enough?

From the corner of his eye, Ponyboy saw another ghost enter the house. Instinctively, his body stiffened. It limped closer to them until its gray body was right in front of Ponyboy. It reeked of sewage, causing Ponyboy’s nose to wrinkle.

He knew ghosts weren’t as scary as they looked, but why was he still terrified of them? He pressed his nails into his palms until Castor wrapped his hands with his own. Ponyboy gave him a grateful smile as sandalwood consumed the terrible scent in the air.

Ponyboy’s eyes drifted over to the gang who had no idea it was here. He couldn’t let it touch any of them, but there was a problem. Now that they know, they were going to talk about it right in front of the ghost. Even if he pretended not to have the gift, they were going to mess it up for him.

It slowly started to walk to the kitchen and away from them, but still within earshot. The best way to deal with this one was to pretend it didn’t exist.

“Hey,” Ponyboy said, pointing at Darry’s watch. “Is that new?”

“Huh?” Darry said, confused at the sudden change of topic. “Why are you asking—”

“Cause it looks tuff.”

“What’s going on?” Soda asked and Ponyboy suddenly had the urge to strangle all of them or put tape over their mouths. This was going to be impossible.

Ponyboy gave them all a look and spoke through his teeth, hoping that they would take a hint and play along. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was our dad’s?” Darry answered like a question. He furrowed his brows. “But what’s with you all of a sudden? We were just talking about—”

“That’s great! Isn’t it nice?” This time, he asked the rest of the gang.

“WHAT ARE WE LOOKING AT?” the ghost asked, suddenly nearby again Thank god Casotr was there because he almost flinched.

Darry pressed his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Sure, but what about—”

“H-Hey, what are we having for dinner?” Ponyboy blurted out.

By now, the gang definitely knew that something was up and shut their mouths. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait for long because Dally sneered at the ghost, eyes becoming as sharp as the blade he used to carry on him. The room got colder, something noted by the gang and causing them to shiver involuntarily. Ponyboy didn’t get a good look at him, but he could have sworn that his form flashed to resemble a rotten corpse. Dally snapped, “Scram.”

The intruding ghost didn’t move but just stared at Dally, which only set the greaser off more. His lips pursed. “Did you hear me or are your ears not working? Get lost!”

That seemed to do the trick. The ghost grumbled, “GOING. GOING. GONE.”

Slowly, it trudged away and Ponyboy felt like he could breathe again. Castor let go of his hands and let him inform, “It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?” Soda inquired. “What happened?”

“There was another ghost here.”

“You mean there are other ghosts in this house? How many people died here?” Two-Bit asked, looking around as if someone was about to pop out of nowhere.

“Not sure. I think ghosts like to wander around. This one wasn’t there before. Dally spooked it off,” Ponyboy sighed, rubbing between his eyes. “Sorry about confusing you.”

“Yeah, what was that?” Steve asked.

“A lot of ghosts are different than Castor, Johnny, and Dally. They look different and act differently too. I don’t know how dangerous they are. It’s best not to touch or acknowledge them.”

That had them all thinking about all the times Ponyboy acted this way. All this time, he had been protecting them. They seriously thought he had lost his mind but now everything started to make sense. Man, did they feel bad…

“What do they look like?” Two-Bit asked out of curiosity. Ponyboy hummed and grabbed the memo pad and pen near the telephone. The gang bent forward as he scribbled away until he had a dark mass with hollow eyes—one being on its forehead and the other where the eye should have been—and a curved mouth. He added in long claws and gave it elongated limbs, making it look impish. Comparably to other ghosts he had seen, this one wasn’t as scary, but to the gang who had no idea what they were like, they thought it was something from a nightmare. Lumps grow in their throats. This was what Ponyboy was seeing?

“This is what the one that was in here looked like,” Ponyboy explained. “Usually they’re scarier.”

And there were scarier ones too? He had been going through this alone and they just berated him!

Soda’s lips wobbled, “So this was what you’ve been seeing and we’ve just been…”

“It’s fine,” Ponyboy said flatly. He didn’t want to talk about this again. “Like we’ve established before: it’s unbelievable.”

“But we still should have been there for you.”

“It’s fine now. Seriously. Let’s just move on.”

“No. We really need to talk about it.” Soda touched his arm, capturing Ponyboy’s attention. “You went through all this and still tried to protect us. It should be the other way around. I’m sorry that we never believed you.”

Ponyboy shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t say sorry to me. You don’t have to.”

“I want to, not just for not believing you but for how we acted. I promise you that you don’t have to go through this alone again.”

“Thank you.” Ponyboy let his smile return. He looked at Castor. “And I wasn’t alone. Castor gave me company.”

“That’s great, but I still don’t agree with him involving you in that serial killer case,” Darry interrupted.

“It’s going to end soon, right?”

“It should be. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have it on the news now.” To prove his point, Darry turned the TV on and, it was as if the universe wanted to show them something because the news channel happened to be covering the story. All of them fell silent. Not even a breath was taken.

‘Earlier today, Mark Flannigan, a teacher from Will Rogers High School, was apprehended on an accusation that he had been responsible for the disappearances of numerous victims. He was initially brought to attention after his failed murder attempt of fourteen-year-old, Ponyboy Curtis. After giving his statement to authorities, the police went straight to work to arrest Mark Flannigan so they could question him. However, on the way to the station, he suddenly fell dead. Although the cause was unknown, one officer noticed an old, severe gunshot wound over his heart. Further autopsies will be done to confirm the cause of death.’

The news report went on about the case more, but Ponyboy’s ears were ringing.

He was dead? It was over just like that? It seemed too abrupt to be true. This was the second time that day that he had an uneasy feeling in his gut. It couldn’t be over. That didn’t make sense. Castor was still here too. What the hell was going on?

Chapter 21: Fallin' Fallin' Down to Hell

Chapter Text

“We talked for a bit and then he invited me to come see his house and have a little ghost investigation or whatever he called it. He said I could bring other people too. Isn’t that great?”

Ponyboy didn’t know what to say. The gang knew he was scared of ghosts and he expected them to respect that. Maybe make an effort to get him out of uncomfortable situations or even play along when they had to. Whatever it took to make sure that Ponyboy was safe. They knew that he wouldn’t tell the ghosts about his abilities too, so why was he being asked if he wanted to do this? “Did you tell them him I could see ghosts?”

Two-Bit waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. I didn’t mention you. I just thought this would be a fun opportunity for all of us.”

“I don’t find it fun…”

“I think you’re the only person who wants to do this,” Darry said from the kitchen. “Just go by yourself.”

“But that’s not as fun!” Two-Bit whined. “It’s better with a group! It can’t just be me and Steve.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, “Since when did I agree to this?”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of ghosts.”

“They should be,” Castor mumbled and Ponyboy agreed.

“Like hell I am!” Steve growled, falling into Two-Bit’s trap. Steve was either really easy to manipulate or Two-Bit was more clever than he seemed.

Suddenly, there was a yell outside, and everyone in the house instantly peeked out the blinds to see what was happening. Outside the house was Soda and his girlfriend, Maggie. What caught Ponyboy’s attention first was how her appearance had deteriorated since he had last seen her. Her face was so pale that it was gray and sickly looking, and the dark bags that hung under her eyes were not able to be fully covered up by her heavy makeup. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were wrinkled and disheveled. She looked so bad that it looked like she was going to double over and die at any moment.

But then came what Ponyboy saw next. Almost mistaken for a backpack, a ghost hung off of her, arms wrapped around her body like a snake. Ponyboy instantly recognized it as the first ghost he had seen back at that abandoned house. It had attached itself then and it still was attached to her now. It was a lot larger than before too; more powerful. Its cartoonish smile grew larger as it continued to suck up her negative emotions and fed off of her energy like a vampire.

“Screw you!” she bellowed. “I don’t know why I put up with a greaser like you. My friends thought I was crazy and I should have listened to them!”

“But–” Soda, who looked stricken, tried to say but was cut off.

“Shut up! I can’t stand to listen to your stupid voice.”

“But I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“And maybe that’s the problem. Just don’t talk to me anymore, you hear? I’ll seriously kill you if you do!” She stormed away, leaving only confusion behind. Eventually, Soda walked into the house, face worrisomely unreadable and shoulders hunched forward.

“What was that about?” Steve asked, walking closer to his friend.

Soda shrugged weakly, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ponyboy reassured. “There was a ghost attached to her. I think it caused this. It was draining her energy and causing her to be different. It wasn’t you, I swear.”

Soda, who was desperate to grab at whatever straws he could, smiled weakly. He almost looked relieved by this new info as if it was helping him cope with himself. Breakups were always painful. Soda must have been taking it really hard though. First Sandy and now Maggie. The look on his face said it all. He thought there was something wrong with him that caused people to be driven away. “So it wasn’t me. Then maybe if we get the ghost off of her, it’ll be fine again!”

“Soda…” Two-Bit awkwardly mumbled. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The smile fell. “Why not?”

The other greaser tapped his fingers uncomfortably on his beer bottle. “She wasn’t good for you, man, ghost or not. You never seemed happy around her.”

He said it. The gang looked at him in astonishment. It was what everyone thought but never had the guts to tell him outright. Soda looked like he wanted to argue but shut his mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. She didn’t make him happy; not like how Sandy did. Maggie only helped fill a hole in his heart. “But I was. I was happy.”

“You were always arguing with each other. She kept taking advantage of you,” Steve said, rubbing Soda’s shoulder. “She’s not the one for you. You deserve someone else.”

“But what if I can’t find someone else?” Soda’s shoulders shook. “What if I’m doomed to be alone?”

“If he can’t find anyone, then everyone else is doomed,” Castor muttered.

Ponyboy went over and gave Soda a hug, squeezing his waist tightly. He soothed but couldn’t help but look over to Castor, “You’ll be alright. You never know when someone will pop up in your life and they’ll be perfect for you. You’ll see.”

For a long moment, they sat there in silence until Darry said, “Let’s get you to bed, Soda. Maybe being alone is what you need right now.”

But Soda shook his head, objecting the suggestion, “I don’t want to sleep yet. I can’t be alone with my thoughts right now. I need to do something to distract myself. I feel like if I don’t, I’ll crash and burn.”

“Well Steve and I are planning on going on a ghost adventure,” Two-Bit offered. “You can come with.”

Even though Soda should have been sick of ghosts or should have at least known better not to, he wasn’t in the right mind to make rational decisions. It was something to do and it would be a perfect distraction. “Yeah, okay. Is everyone else coming?”

“I can come,” Darry finally agreed and Ponyboy felt like he was betrayed. He probably only agreed because Soda was coming.

They then looked to Ponyboy and he did want to turn them down. However, if he did that, they would be on their own in the house. Nobody would be there to protect them. As much as he hated it, he had no choice but to go. He begrudgingly grumbled, “Yeah, I’ll go. Castor can come too.”

Two-Bit pumped his fist in the air and asked, “What about Dally and Johnny?”

“They’re not around right now.”

“I wonder what they’re doing,” Steve wondered to himself.

“Nothing legal.” Ponyboy almost laughed at his joke.

“Too bad. It would have been more fun with them around,” Two-Bit mulled. He put both hands on Ponyboy's shoulders and started to steer him out of the house. “Well, let’s get going! Don’t want to get there too late.”

“Since when did you start caring about that?” Steve said as he and the rest of the gang followed him out.

After they all loaded into the vehicle, it didn’t take long to make it to their destination. When Ponyboy first got a look at the house, the first word that came to mind was not HAUNTED . Yes, there were ghosts. He saw some shadows pass by the windows and there was a particular ghost that was staring at them through one of them as well. It was the aesthetics of the place that threw him off.

It wasn't like the decrepit, abandoned house that they had gone to before. There was some life in this one and it had a more lived-in feel to it. The house looked almost just like any other home, if not older. Its white paint only peeled off in some places on the wood siding and the porch was only slightly weathered down and had some repairs done to it. Above all, the roof wasn't about to fall down on them at any second, so that was a huge improvement compared to their last haunted house. A warm light from inside made it seem almost welcoming, but, yeah, there was that ghost issue…

" This is the haunted house?" Steve snorted, unimpressed. "Doesn't seem very haunted to me."

"This is the address the guy gave me," Two-Bit said with a shrug.

"Maybe you read it wrong."

"No, this is it," Ponyboy interrupted, rubbing his arm. "There are ghosts in there."

Honestly. he probably shouldn't have said anything because there was more of a chance of them leaving that way. He let out a deep sigh. Why did things have to come to this?

"See?" Two-Bit laughed, clapping his hands together. "Let's go in! The fun's inside! He said we can just walk right in."

They started to walk towards it and Ponyboy dug his heels into the ground with each step, pushing back as if he were about to start going backward, only he moved forward. Castor's face appeared in front of him and Ponyboy slowed his stride to not walk through him. With him blocking the view of the house, it was easier to go forward.

"You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to," Castor reminded.

"I know I don't have to," Ponyboy said lowly so the gang wouldn't hear him. He had already fallen behind with how stiffly he was moving. "But I don't think I should back out."

Castor raised an eyebrow, casting the gang a look. "Is this about what they think of you? Screw that! Why should you care about that? "

"I don't know. It just feels different now. Like I have something to prove. Besides, someone has to watch over them."

"Well, you don't need to prove anything anymore. You've already done that. They don't need more validation."

"But then why are they taking me to a haunted house?"

Castor could only shrug. "Maybe they're trying to get you more comfortable around ghosts? I don’t know."

"After they saw my drawing of one?"

Again, the ghost shrugged. "Whatever it is, you don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with and no matter what you do, I'll be there. Always. I’m not going to stop you from doing this, but be careful, okay?"

Ponyboy didn't have time to fully take in his words before he took a step into the house. Instantly, his skin crawled like a thousand little spiders were running across it; his chest crushed by rib-breaking pressure. His stomach turned uncomfortably and his fingers and the tip of his nose became icy cold almost as if they were frostbitten. Unlike the warm feeling that the house emitted outside, the feeling inside was intense! He could hardly breathe!

A low whimper left his throat as they stepped further inside, breathing in the suffocating scent of old roses. The floorboards creaked from under him and the sconces flickered in and out like a heartbeat. He shuffled his feet on the rolled-out rug, probably smearing dirt in the process. There wasn't a ghost in sight yet, but their presence was clear enough.

They were not welcomed in the house. Every inch of his body was screaming for him to leave, and Ponyboy wasn't sure if this was his feeling or if the ghost was projecting it onto him. Whatever it was, he wanted to drag all of them out by the back of their shirts.

"Are you sure we can just walk right in?" Darry asked, looking around with uncertainty.

"That's what he said!" Two-Bit confirmed.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Soda called out. This was the first time he had spoken since they left.

Ponyboy's eyes shuffled around, waiting for something to pop up in front of him. He took in the décor all clad with staples from the 1890s–from the floral wallpaper to the rosewood and upholstered furniture to the lace curtains and the floral carpets, and to the old grandfather clock that was about to ring 7:00.

They soon found the owner of the house (or he found them), Mr. Cooper, who met up with them in the foyer. He was a young man who was around Darry's age and, from his introduction, lived alone in this house which he inherited from his parents.

Once they started the tour of the place, Mr. Cooper began to explain its history. In short, a family used to live there during the 1800s. Everything had gone well in their lives until they stopped going outside. The neighbors had checked on them and found the family had mysteriously been slaughtered, heads sliced open and bashed in by a meat cleaver. Forensics at the time found that the members of the family were killed one after the other, each one unaware of what was about to happen to them. There had been no signs of a break in and it had been assumed that someone in the family had done it. However, every member had been slaughtered the same way, leaving this case unsolved.

Since then, the families that lived there have experienced unexplained happenings such as objects being thrown across the room, voices being heard, and their skin being scratched. It was so unexplained that they deemed the place haunted.

It was all very generic. But there were some truths to it and that's what made Ponyboy nervous. While ghosts tended to keep to themselves and were unable to physically touch anything or be seen by the normal person, the ones here had a bad rep. There was going to be trouble down the road. For now, all Pony could do was hope that the rumors were mere stories that people had imagined because of fear.

They stopped in one of the bedrooms. The owner cleared his throat and projected, "In this room, people have seen a male presence that doesn't like when people are near him. It likes to cause people to get sick and some have even fainted."

This room was empty at the moment, much to Ponyboy’s relief. So far, he hadn’t seen any ghosts around. Strange since there were some at the windows earlier. It seemed they had all scurried away once the gang got in the house, for better or for worse.

But then there was movement in the corner of Ponyboy’s eyes. Two kids peeked their heads out from behind a door. They looked at each other which caused the back of their heads to be visible–skulls all bashed in and brains that were showing. They giggled mischievously and ran off just like that. Ponyboy asked, "Do people ever see two kids here?"

The sudden question caught Mr. Cooper off guard. He sputtered, "Why... yes! Yes, we have accounts where people have seen children here. Why bring this up?"

Might as well tell him. It wasn’t like he was keeping it a secret from living people anyway. "Because two kids were staring at us through the door earlier."

Just as he said that the room grew silent. The gang shifted uncomfortably, looking at the door as if they were about to see the children themselves. Mr. Cooper laughed nervously. "Excuse me?"

"They were peeking their heads in and giggling.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I'm a…uh, medium? I can see ghosts."

The word medium felt too fancy for him, but that was what he was. Mr. Cooper processed his words before he laughed unbelievably. He tapped Ponyboy's shoulder with his hand. "You're a riot, kid. I almost believed you."

"But it's true."

"Sure it is."

"It's true," Two-Bit confirmed.

"Yep, true," Soda echoed.

"Yeah, the kid's not lying," Steve pitched in.

Mr. Cooper's face twitched as he looked at Darry with one final hope that Ponyboy was pulling his leg but he was only met with a confirming nod. Mr. Cooper deflated but he still didn’t look convinced. He quickly covered it up and stubbornly moved on with the tour. "Really now? You can see ghosts? I get many people here claiming that but they’ve all been frauds."

"I don't like to announce it in front of ghosts," Ponyboy admitted.

"Why don't we move on then? Maybe you'll see more ghosts, huh? And… you can prove it."

"I'll prove to him that you can see us," Castor huffed, annoyed by the negative reaction.

"It's fine. Like you said, I don't need to prove anything. If he believes me, great, and if he doesn't, screw him."

Immediately, Castor's face brightened up. He excessively patted his back in the exact spot the Mr. Cooper touched as if he were washing the scent off with his own. "There you go! Now you're getting it!"

They moved on with the tour. The owner showed them a few more rooms, and that was when he started to see more of them. Some had ghosts that peeked out from under the bed while others had some that looked like regular residents. Ponyboy pretended not to see any of them.

Eventually, they made it to the living room and Ponyboy tried to ignore the zombie-looking man that was sitting on the sofa. He pulled at Soda's shirt to keep him from sitting down and briefly shook his head. Luckily, he seemed to get the message and stood up straighter.

"This is where the father of the family died. He was killed in the very center of the room; nine whacks to the back of the head. People that come here sometimes see a man sitting on the couch over there." He pointed to the couch that Soda almost sat in.

"DON'T COME OVER HERE. LEAVE!" the ghost hissed. Ponyboy was glad that he didn't let any of them sit down.

"I got a special instrument here. Really basic stuff." Mr. Cooper held up the said device. "Here is a motion detector that was hard to get my hands on. I tried to mess with it, but I think I sort of broke it, but it still works and all. It's just weaker and needs something to touch the top of it for it to go off. A light will flash and a small beep will sound."

Mr. Cooper held it towards the couch and Ponyboy opened his mouth to say something but it was too late. His hand passed through the ghost and the device started to go off like crazy, a high beeping sound that was similar to a fire alarm and caused their ears to ring. Ponyboy couldn’t see it, but the light must have gone off as well.

Mr. Cooper’s face brightened, unlike the ghost's whose went sour, baring his rotten teeth. When the hand was removed, the ghost crawled backward over the side of the couch and up the wall until it rested in the corner of the roof. Still, the low ceilings caused it to be within arm's length.

"See? The ghost is there," Mr. Cooper chirped.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" the ghost screamed.

"You know it's working because the device isn't going off now. Just that one spot. See I'll try it again." He held it to the couch but the device didn't go off. The owner frowned and pulled it back to look at it curiously. "Maybe the device fully broke."

Ponyboy took a quick glance at the ghost, contemplating his next move. He clicked his tongue and took a deep breath. Golly, he really wished Two-Bit hadn’t suggested coming here. Ponyboy held out his hand. "Can I see that? I think I can get it to turn on."

The gang looked at him shocked, knowing how uncomfortable he was there. The person that looked the most shocked though was Castor. He stepped forward worriedly, "Hey, are you sure about this?"

"I can do it." It sounded like he was talking to the owner again, but everyone else knew he was talking to Castor... and maybe himself too. He took the device from Mr. Cooper and cleared his throat to prevent his voice from cracking. "Maybe the problem isn't the device, but the location."

He held the device with shaky hands, taking a few steps closer to the hissing ghost.

"You don't have to do this," Soda interjected and Ponyboy almost made a remark on how this wouldn't be happening if they didn't come there in the first place, but he held his tongue. Instead, he huffed at it all. "If it's not safe and you're uncomfortable..."

"I feel like the device picks up air too," Ponyboy said to hide his intention to the ghost. "Probably very breezy by the ceiling."

He was about to hold up the device, but his arms felt like lead. His hands were sweating, making it feel like it was going to slip from them at any moment.

"GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!" the ghost screamed craning its body so that it was closer to him. Its peeling hands curled around him and hovered over his skin. Ponyboy suppressed a whimper. "I KNOW YOU CAN SEE ME. I SAW YOU LOOKING AT ME!"

A lie. It didn’t know. Pony closed his eyes for a second. He could do this. This was going to be just like in the hospital. Only, all he had to do was raise his hand. He was so close to the ghost now that if he did that, his hand would go through its body.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his own and electricity woke up his nerves, running up his veins. Sandalwood overcame the rose scent of the house and caused his brain to momentarily stop functioning. He opened his eyes and was relieved when he saw Castor who didn't look very happy. His eyes were narrowed as he glared at the ghost.

"I don't want him to touch you," Castor growled and Ponyboy felt himself shiver. Then he added, realizing how the sentence sounded, "Alone. I don't want him to touch your hands alone. Just keep your eyes on me, okay? Don’t look at anyone but me."

Ponyboy nodded. He didn't think he could take his eyes off of him now anyway.

"Well?" the owner asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Don't push him," Darry warned.

"I only want you to pay attention to me," Castor said and Ponyboy nodded again, ears turning red.

"WHY CAN YOU SEE? YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE!" the ghost yelled.

Ponyboy's eyes were on Castor as they raised their hands together. Castor's hand was like a shield around his own as the device started to beep again.

"YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE ME!"

"Just focus on me," Castor whispered. The world drowned out around them and, for a moment, it was only them in the house. But moments like these were short and soon Castor was inching his hand back down and Ponyboy became more aware of the situation. "Don't turn your head towards him."

"Huh?" Ponyboy, without meaning to, looked and was face to face with the other ghost. Only an inch separated them. His mouth went dry. The ghost breathed decay onto his face and Ponyboy wanted to press his face against Castor’s neck so he could smell his scent instead. Before he could accidentally react, a hand on his chin turned his head back towards Castor.

"I don't like it when you look at anyone else, you know."

Ponyboy's face felt like it was on fire. He knew that Castor hadn’t meant it that way, but he couldn't stop the blush from forming, even in the situation he was in.

"You need to talk now," Castor reminded.

Ponyboy nodded with small movements. He knew that but his mind felt like it was in the clouds He said to the rest of them, "See? It's cold over here too. It must be picking up the draft."

"LIES! I KNOW YOU'RE LYING!" the ghost yelled. Castor guided him away, but the ghost came down from the corner and followed them. "I CAN SEE YOU TALKING TO HIM!"

"But it's too cold in this room. Maybe we should leave and go to another. I would like that a lot actually."

Mr. Cooper argued, "But I still have more to the story!”

"Okay, let's go," Darry quickly agreed in a tone that left no questions or objections. "We're done in this room."

Ponyboy gave him a relieved smile as he was escorted out. Luckily, when they reached the door, the ghost stopped following. They made it to the kitchen and Ponyboy finally felt like he could breathe again. The atmosphere there was miraculously lighter than the rest of the house. He took a deep breath, putting his arms behind his head.

"You okay?" Soda asked worriedly.

"I feel sick," Ponyboy truthfully answered. "But it's better in here."

"What happened back there?" Steve asked him.

"It knew that I could see it…” Ponyboy swallowed thickly. “It didn't like that I could see it."

Shivers ran down all of their spines. Two-Bit asked, looking around, "It's not here, is it?"

"No, it stayed in the room."

Mr. Cooper started to laugh. A big joke he thought this all was. "I almost believed you for a moment. Physic mediums aren't real. Hell, ghosts aren't real either!"

Everyone looked at him stupefied. Baffled, Soda asked, "You advertise that you have a haunted house and you don't believe in ghosts?"

"Capitalize on what you can." Mr. Cooper shrugged and everyone raised an eyebrow.

"We didn't believe it either, but the kid can see them," Steve defended.

"Really? Then he can hear them too?" Mr. Cooper opened a cabinet in the kitchen and took out a large, boxy device. A voice recorder? Pony’s dad had one but he had never seen him use it before. Besides that, the owner took out a Polaroid camera. The younger boy nodded to answer Mr. Cooper’s question. "Then let's test this out. If you do this, then I'll believe you."

"Why does it matter if he believes you?" Castor groaned.

"What do you have in mind?" Ponyboy asked though his throat was dry. He was going to regret saying that later.

"I heard that you can capture the voices of these ghosts through a recording and even images of them with pictures. What I want is for you to repeat what they say."

"If that’s the case, I can speak for you," Castor said, but his eyes narrowed again. "But I won't bark for him."

"I don't want you to either," Ponyboy said.

They were led down to the basem*nt, much to everyone's hesitance. As soon as Ponyboy took a step down there, his breath left him. That feeling he had earlier where it felt like a heavy weight was on his chest was a thousand times worse down there. Even the gang felt the pressure. Was it possible that the atmosphere here rose upstairs?

When the light turned on, Ponyboy looked around and saw dozens of eyes on them all to different ghosts that were pressed against the walls of the basem*nt. Their eyes were only on them for a moment before they turned to a pitch-dark hallway.

It took another moment to realize that the pressure wasn't coming from these ghosts but from something else that was further in the dim basem*nt. And then another moment to realize what he had agreed to: repeating ghosts' words and revealing that he could hear them.

"YOU SHOULDN'T BE DOWN HERE," the ghosts seem to say all separately, but also at the same time, filling the dank basem*nt with noise. "YOU NEED TO GO."

"GO!"

"LEAVE!"

"YOU CAN'T BE HERE!"

"YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE!"

"HE DOESN'T LIKE IT."

"SCARED!"

"I'M SCARED!"

"SO SCARED!"

Ponyboy pressed his hands to his ears, not caring if these ghosts found it suspicious. His legs were shaking as he couldn't bring himself to take another step away from the staircase. The fear of the ghosts seeped into him, amplifying how terrified he was. Even Castor was feeling odd. His form flickered in and out just like the light as if he was starting to be snuffed out by whatever was in there.

"No. No. We shouldn't be down here," Ponyboy cried out.

"What's up?" Soda asked and placed his hand on Ponyboy's shoulder but removed it when the boy flinched. "Is there a ghost down here?"

"There are several."

"Several?"

"They're scared." Ponyboy shook his head, managing to move his feet somehow, but he was only able to go backward. "We have to go up."

"What are they scared about?"

"There's something else here." Tears were starting to well up in his eyes as the pressure got stronger and stronger. Something was coming. "What happened here? This is someone else's home."

"We're not going until there's proof." Mr. Cooper declared. He turned on the voice recorder and stamped his feet. "Or you can admit that you have been lying this whole time."

"What is wrong with you? Like hell we’re staying here!" Darry barked, unplugging the recorder from the wall and successfully turning it off. He ignored the owner's protest. "We're not doing this if Pony doesn't want to."

"Then what was the point of going down here? I want to know if he's lying or not!"

“He’s been telling the truth,” Two-Bit stated, annoyed.

"YOU'RE STILL HERE?" the ghosts continued.

"GET OUT!"

"YOU'RE CRAZY TO BE HERE STILL."

"I'M GETTING OUT OF HERE!"

"RUN!"

"CRAZY BASTARDS!"

"They're warning us," Ponyboy whispered. He needed to get out. They needed to get out. Castor wasn't looking too hot and Ponyboy wasn't about to let this entity (or whatever was down there) eat him whole. They needed to get out of there but coming down to the basem*nt was like falling into a spiderweb.

"Warning us from what?" Steve questioned.

"HE'S HERE."

"He's here."

“Who’s here?” Darry asked. “A ghost?”

“HE NEVER LIVED!”

“No, it’s something else. It was never a human.”

“Never a human? What is it?” Two-Bit asked.

“DEMON.”

“A demon.”

Chapter 22: Laughter up the Stairs

Chapter Text

A whirlwind of colors rushed by on all sides, so contrasting against the somber, stone basem*nt. The ghosts quickly escaped up the stairs and spoke snake-like warnings as they passed, causing Ponyboy’s shoulders to shrug. When things started to clear up, only an infinite void of a hallway was in front of him. With the ghosts gone, it revealed how unkept everything was. It seemed like only some sweepwork had been done because piles of dirt and rubble had been brushed to the edges of the room. Unfortunately, the spiderwebs hadn’t been removed, but at least it didn’t seem like they were active. Maybe the demon scared the spiders off. Lucky them. At least they were out of there.

The lone lightbulb that hung in the center gently swayed. There were dark corners that didn’t light up, but then Ponyboy realized that it was because they were covered in black mold that released a pungent and musky scent that curled all of their noses.

And if Ponyboy squinted his eyes, he could see a silhouette of a large person at the end of an adjoining hallway. Its body was dark and long as if it was a stretched-out shadow. But while a shadow was always created by an object and light, this didn’t appear to belong to a person. It wasn’t connected to any of them. Rather it seemed to be freestanding like it was a person itself.

Ponyboy swallowed the lump in his throat and held out his hand toward Mr. Cooper.

“Hand me that camera,” he said. When it was given to him, he took a quick shot of the hallway. The flash lit it up for a second but it was enough to get a better look at the shadow. And just as he thought, it was its own entity, but there was another figure there too that was practically molded into it. Maybe they were one and the same; not separate entities.

In front of it was a child, or what looked like one. It was half Pony’s size but its facial features were blurred out as if someone had smudged it using a crappy eraser. And although its face was blurred, Ponyboy could clearly see its glowing eyes. It wasn’t a bright glow, but instead, they were two dim, white dots. It was similar to a flashlight that was being shone in the eyes of wildlife during the night.

It struck him that this was the first entity that he couldn’t properly comprehend.

Was this kid its true form or was it the shadow? Ponyboy wasn’t so sure. Something was off about it, like he wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. It felt like there were two films over his eyes that kept him from seeing it clearly.

Slowly, the Polaroid picture started to slide out. When it did, he handed it to Mr. Cooper. The faster everything went, the quicker they could get out. He just wished that pictures developed faster.

“Renovations here would be nice,” Ponyboy forced out after he cleared his throat. “We got a picture so we can plan this better. We can go up and do so now, actually.”

“But I don’t want renovations done down here,” Mr. Cooper objected and Ponyboy wanted to slap his forehead with his palm. This wasn’t the place to say that! He looked to the gang for help. Luckily, they caught onto his silent plea.

“Yeah, it would be pretty tuff to have a pool table down here,” Two-Bit played along.

“And it would be nice to get a couch down here too,” Steve added. “But we would need to do some measurements and the tape measure is upstairs.”

Much to everyone’s annoyance, Mr. Cooper scoffed, “I already told you. I don’t want to renovate the basem*nt, but we do have everything we need here. I just want to make sure the picture is good before we go up.”

There wasn’t time…

The entity finally moved into the light. There were other ghosts down there that hadn’t had the chance to leave. It turned its head towards one of them, and to Ponyboy’s horror, the ghost started to shriek like a mouse caught in a trap before it dispersed into a dark fog that sank into the cracks in the floor.

What?

“Whoa,” Castor gasped and Ponyboy turned to him worriedly, watching him flicker in and out. If he were to stay down here with that thing then…

Ponyboy’s breath hitched, “Castor, go upstairs.”

Castor looked stunned as if what he said was weird. “What do you mean? I’m not leaving you down here.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“And I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You’re flickering. You saw what it did to that ghost. It only had to look at it. I don’t want that to happen to you.” He chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It can’t hurt me.”

He could only hope that was true but if there was one thing they both had in common, it was their stubbornness. Castor shook his head and said, “I don’t care what happens to me. I’m not leaving you. I care about you.”

Ponyboy’s mouth shut before it opened again, “And I care about you. So, please… go up.”

Again, Castor shook his head, rejecting his demand. “But I can’t protect you if we’re separated.”

“I know.” He knew exactly the danger he was putting himself into. “But you can’t protect me from everything. Besides, it’s my turn to help you so let me protect you from that.”

He put on his most convincing smile, promising, “I’ll be upstairs soon, okay?”

Castor looked reluctant but then his form dissipated for several seconds before it returned. His face was scrunched up with worry as he looked up the stairs and then back at him interchangeably. The demon dispersed another ghost and that seemed to help him decide. Finally, he said, “I’ll go up but you have to swear that you’ll be fine.”

“I swear,” although Ponyboy knew he had no control over that. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Castor ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the roots slightly. He nodded after a while, “Okay… but if you lie to me, I’m seriously going to be mad. I’m going to haunt the hell out of you.”

Ponyboy snorted, thankful for the distracting banter. “You already do. Golly, you’re not too good at the haunting bit, Casper.”

He drew out the incorrect name teasingly and Castor rolled his eyes. “Soon toons are going to be about me. It’s going to be Castor the Not-so-Friendly Ghost. I’ll take the world by storm and throw Casper out of the market.”

“You’ll have to haunt me real good to make it big.”

“You’re right, so make it back to me, savvy?”

“I hear you.”

With one final look at the demon that had just finished off the leftover ghosts in the basem*nt, Castor left and Ponyboy felt alone again. He sighed and squeezed the camera until his fingers started to cramp.

“Who’s he talking to?” Mr. Cooper asked the gang.

“None of your business,” Darry snapped, crossing his arms. “Has the photo developed yet?”

Mr. Cooper shook his head. “Almost.”

How long did it take for a picture to appear? It felt like they had been down there forever. Ponyboy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay. He only had to wait a few more minutes. This entity couldn’t hurt him.

“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?” a voice whispered right next to his brain–deep and unlike a child’s.

Suddenly, hundreds of burning pins and needles ran down the left side of his body. He yelped out in pain and took a few steps away from the source instinctively and, as a result, away from the comfort that was the staircase that led upstairs.

“Ponyboy?” Darry spoke. “What happened?”

He hadn’t seen it move. It traveled faster than he could blink. Pony’s breath got caught in his throat as his head twitched toward the left of him.

The “child” was next to him with its arms spread wide. Behind it, the looming shadow mimicked it. No, rather the child was mimicking the shadow. That was the true entity; not the kid. It was a puppeteer; a marionette of ghosts. The demon reminded him of a female anglerfish, where the child was the lure and the shadow was the body.

Its large arms encircled Ponyboy but never touched. Wherever it hovered, it left behind intense pain and heat.

“YOU KEEP SAYING THAT I CAN’T HURT YOU. YOU KEEP THINKING THAT I CAN’T TOUCH YOU,” it hissed. “BUT I DON’T HAVE TO TOUCH YOU TO CAUSE YOU HARM.”

Liar! It couldn’t hurt him. It was trying to trick him! If ghosts rarely had the ability to touch objects, how was this demon any different?

“I DON’T HAVE TO TOUCH YOU TO FEEL ME.”

It kept hovering, getting close and then backing off. Closer and then away. It was mocking him, silently chanting, I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you! Only this wasn’t a childish tease. It hurt. It was scary. He felt trapped.

“Pony?” Soda said, so distant that he almost missed it. Earlier, Ponyboy was worried about Castor being consumed, but now he wasn’t sure if he himself was about to be swallowed alive. Soda started to move toward him. “Are you alright?”

Ponyboy, stiff as a board, quickly announced, “Hey, there are a lot of spiderwebs right there. You might not want to get closer.”

Soda looked confused. “But there aren’t any…”

He trailed off when he realized what Ponyboy was doing and halted his movements. He made his mouth into an O shape and moved back a few steps. Due to that, Ponyboy felt his shoulders become a little bit (emphasis on “little”) lighter. Soda was safe for now.

But it was like the demon was reading his mind because it grinned and sang, “I CAN SMELL HIS EMOTIONS; HIS HURT. HE’S VULNERABLE. SUSCEPTIBLE. POSSESSABLE.”

“Don’t!” Ponyboy screamed, not able to help himself, but then he realized his slip-up. The entity cackled like the static from a TV. It was having a blast. Ponyboy quickly tried to cover his mistake. “Don’t… uh… come any closer. I saw a large spider.”

“Are you fine?” Darry asked with knitted eyebrows. He looked around the room for the entity but couldn’t see anything. “I know you don’t like spiders.”

“I’ll be fine,” he squeaked. He had to be calm. He was stronger than it. If he didn’t believe in that, he was for sure going to be consumed.

“YOU THINK THAT YOU ARE STRONG,” the ghost taunted, “BUT YOU’RE WEAK. SO… SO… WEAK.”

“Hey, I’m starting to see something,” Mr. Cooper announced, holding up the picture. Oh, thank god. They could finally go.

“Great. We got what we need,” Ponyboy said, but as soon as he said that, a loose brick was thrown across the room, smashing to pieces against the wall. Everybody jumped.

“Holy sh*t!” Steve cursed under his breath and took several steps back.

“WANT TO SEE THAT AGAIN? I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO TOUCH ANYTHING.”

Another brick was thrown across the basem*nt that was followed by other debris, slamming so hard against the wall that they made gunshot-like sounds. It kept chanting AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN with each throw. None of it went near them, but it became clear to everyone that this entity had the power to harm them. Even Mr. Cooper realized this, his face twitching uncontrollably.

“Let’s go up!” Darry barked, grabbing Mr. Cooper harshly to prevent him from making another excuse. He would drag him up there by the ear if he had to.

The lightbulb above them suddenly exploded, blanketing them in darkness. Steve cursed as he pulled out his lighter, wishing that they brought a flashlight or two down there with them. The small flame hardly comforted them as it danced in and out, threatening to snuff itself out at any moment. The entity kept cackling at them, now heard from everywhere. Not even Ponyboy could pinpoint where it was coming from.

“I CAN DO SO MUCH MORE, PONYBOY. JUST LOOK AT ME.”

Look at it? Where was it? Ponyboy’s eyes naturally went to the light Steve held, being the only thing he could see.

It happened in a matter of seconds. The flame shot up. Its heat boiled Steve’s hand and turned it red in a matter of seconds. He was forced to stop the gas, but even though he did that, the flame kept growing larger and larger until the room was lit just enough to see all of them–him, Steve, Darry, Soda, Two-Bit, Mr. Cooper… and a large shadow that was standing behind Steve, not connected to any of them. The “child” was no longer in sight, which only made Ponyboy more on edge.

“What is that?” Soda asked lowly, looking straight at him with wide, fearful eyes. At first, Ponyboy had no idea what he was talking about. Was there something he wasn’t seeing? But then Soda clarified, “Whose shadow is that?”

“It’s not even connected to anybody,” Darry realized, looking at him as well. It left Ponyboy flabbergasted.

They could see it? How? They weren’t supposed to see it. What was going on? Was this entity powerful enough to show itself to everyone? He gasped, “You guys can see it?”

They all nodded. This wasn’t good.

With shaky hands, Ponyboy reached out to Two-Bit and grabbed ahold of his Mickey Mouse shirt for comfort. He ducked a bit behind him so that his vision would be halfway obstructed. For whatever reason, that always helped him whenever he was scared of something. He looked up at him. “You too, Two-Bit? You could see it too?”

“Yeah, I can see it,” Two-Bit answered, but his voice didn’t come from in front of him. It came from behind him. “Why are you talking to it, Ponyboy?”

And just like that, everything came to a crashing stop. Ponyboy’s pupils shrunk as he looked over his shoulder and saw a worried Two-Bit a few feet behind him. But if that was Two-Bit, then whose shirt did he grab onto?

His heart was beating so quickly that it was about to run away from him. The temperature dropped as he slowly turned back around and observed the figure that looked exactly like his friend. It hadn’t spoken once and hadn’t turned around this entire time. Until then that was.

Its head slowly spun around. Its neck was cracking with each twist until it had turned a full 180. Ponyboy was frozen to his spot. It looked exactly like Two-Bit, but, at the same time, it clearly wasn’t. The smile it wore was wrong–so crooked and dark. There wasn’t any happiness in it. Instead, it was empty as if the corners of his lips had been taped to his cheekbones.

Besides that, his eyes were glowing just like the eyes of that “child”. The shadow that he had seen behind Steve was gone, now standing in front of him in the form of his friend.

There was one final sickening crack as this Two-Bit’s neck snapped and folded in half so that the head was hanging upside down and in front of Ponyboy’s face, breathing a sulfur-rich breath onto him.

The young greaser released the shirt with a shrilled scream, stumbling backward and almost tripping over his heels. If Darry hadn’t been there, he would have fallen. The laughter suddenly stopped and so did every noise in the room except for their breathing. Its smile turned upside down.

“WHY DON’T WE PLAY IN THE DARK?”

Steve’s lighter flew across the room with a flick of its hand, letting the room become pitch black again.

“Let’s get out of here!” Darry yelled and everyone started to scramble to where they had last seen the staircase but it was hard to navigate in the dark.

“Over here! I found it!” Soda called out and Ponyboy followed his voice. But while he had expected his foot to hit a staircase, it kept hitting the ground. “Watch your step!”

“Where’re the stairs?” he asked him.

“Ponyboy! Over here! What are you doing over there?” Darry yelled from across the other side of the basem*nt. Immediately, Ponyboy planted his feet and came to a stop. His throat felt tight. It could mimic voices too?

“Just a few more steps forward,” Soda coxed in front of him, but his voice was deeper this time. It wasn’t Soda. The real one was behind him with everyone else.

“I… I…” was all he managed to utter.

“COME ON, PONYBOY,” said Soda’s voice right by his ear. Ponyboy’s heart leaped out of his throat as he sprinted toward where he heard Darry before. Cold sweat fell down his back as he stumbled up the stairs, tripping over each step. The basem*nt door was flung open by them, and the light it brought gave them succor. They started to file through it one by one, but when it got to Ponyboy’s turn, things started to go wrong. He only saw Castor for a second–green-gray and blue eyes locking–before he was obstructed by the shadow and its glowing eyes. At the time, he had only been two steps shy from escaping the basem*nt.

As Ponyboy took a step backward, he hadn’t estimated where the stair below it ended. His toe barely clipped the edge of it and he soon felt himself fall forward, slamming his chin on a step and biting his tongue as a result. Jolts of electricity and the overwhelming taste of iron filled his mouth as he tumbled down the staircase. To the gang, it probably looked like he was being dragged by the ankle.

They all screamed his name as they tried to get to him, but before they could even move an inch, the door slammed shut in their faces. The force shook the entire house, and again, Ponyboy was surrounded by darkness.

“Guys!” Ponyboy cried out, pushing himself back up on throbbing limbs. He climbed the stairs again on all fours, grabbing ahold of the rattling handle at the top. But when he tried pulling the door with all his weight, it wouldn’t budge. Panic settled in. “Guys, help! It won’t open!”

His back felt like it was burning and he could feel the dark presence that was right behind him, which only caused him to go even crazier. He could hear the gang on the other side, trying to open the door from their end.

“Get it open!” Soda begged.

“We’re trying!” Steve yelled, throwing his body against the wood. The door rattled with each slam but it didn’t even bend.

“Why won’t it open? It’s not even locked!” Two-Bit screamed.

“Guys! Please!” Ponyboy cried, tears dampening his cheeks. He scratched at the door, doing anything he could to get out of there. Wood lodged itself under his chipped nails, but he hardly cared. Get out! He had to get out!

“Open it!” Darry barked as if that would have helped anything.

“Help!” Ponyboy kept scratching away. He had to think and clear his head. There had to be a way out of this situation, but panic was like a fog and the only solution he could think of was going through the door. He wished that was possible, but he wasn’t a ghost yet. That left only Castor, but how he could help was a mystery. “Castor! Are you there?”

“I’m here,” came Castor’s immediate answer, giving him some comfort. His voice was strained and stressed but Ponyboy didn’t know why (he could easily pass through the door) until what he said next. “I... I can’t get to you! Something’s blocking me!”

All residing hope drained completely out of him. His voice trembled. “What? No. Castor, I need you.”

“I’m trying! But there’s a wall! I’m trying my hardest, you gotta believe me! It won’t let me through!”

There was that familiar chilling laugh again, indicating that his time was up. He stopped his futile scratching and balled up his hands into fists. He pressed his forehead against the door and whispered, “Castor, it’s right behind me.”

“We’re almost there!” Darry told him, but that was hogwash. They made no progress on opening the door and they all knew it. It wasn’t going to let them in until it was done with him.

“Please, I don’t want it to get me.”

“It’s not going to get you,” Castor comforted. He could tell the ghost was pressing his forehead against the door as well. Too bad it separated the two. “You’re stronger than it. Don’t let its lies get you and you’ll be fine. We’re going to get you out of there no matter what.”

He took a deep breath. He was stronger than it. He was going to be fine. Ponyboy tried to convince himself of this, but it only made the ghost laugh harder.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW I HAVEN’T GOTTEN YOU YET?”

A gasp left Ponyboy’s mouth and his head shot backward as if a connected string had been yanked back. And suddenly, he wasn’t looking at the door anymore. He was staring at the ceiling in the middle of the basem*nt, somehow able to see even though the lightbulb had been crushed. His heartbeat could be heard in his ears, in beat with the droplets of water that fell off a pipe.

Ponyboy sat up and looked toward the staircase. The basem*nt door had stopped banging and there were no yells from the other side of it. He looked around and felt his body stiffen when he saw that shadow again. It was just standing still in the corner and slightly swaying on its feet. Its head was hung low and its arms were pressed against its sides. Pony backed away as far as he could, but he wasn’t able to get far enough before it started to move. It took a step forward, stiff like a robot and limbs straight.

One step. Two steps. Slow yet large. Another step and he was able to make out features that weren’t there before. He had expected a shadow, but what he saw was Soda.

“Soda?” Ponyboy called out hopefully.

“Ponyboy! There you are,” Soda said and rushed over to him, he grabbed his arm and Ponyboy almost broke down in a sob, thanking the universe that he wasn’t alone anymore. “The door closed and I thought I lost you.”

Ponyboy sniffled. “How did you get down here? Where are the others?”

“The gang got the door opened. Let me help you get up.”

Strange since it didn’t look or sound like it was. Nevertheless, the younger brother nodded and Soda grabbed his arm tighter and tighter and tighter until it felt like it was about to fall off. Pony’s face scrunched up. His lips wobbled but he forced a smile onto them. “Can you let off a bit?”

But the grip only tightened and a shadowy mask blurred Soda’s face. The smile turned into a deep frown.

“Soda? You’re hurting me,” Ponyboy winced.

“Stop whining,” Soda snapped, throwing Pony through a loop. Never had he heard that tone directed to him before. “You’re acting like a child. I’m hardly even touching you.”

Ponyboy cried out when the grip got even tighter, turning his fingertips blue. He pulled on his arm desperately but it only felt like he was on the losing side of tug of war. “Let me go!”

“You shouldn’t struggle too much,” spoke another voice that he instantly recognized as Two-Bit. Steve and Darry were there next to him as well. Two-Bit pulled out his blade. “Or this is going to hurt more.”

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was insinuating. Ponyboy’s shrunken pupils shook as he started to thrash wildly, begging Soda to release him. This wasn’t right. Why was he being jumped by the gang? They would never do this to him, yet here they were, drawing a blade to him.

This was wrong! His brain was playing tricks on him. It had to be!

But they were right there. He could feel Soda’s vise grip and he had no doubt that he would be able to feel the blade as well. This had to be a bad joke. His brain was spinning. The gang wouldn’t hurt him, yet he couldn’t help from trembling when they got closer.

“Get away from me!” Ponyboy begged as his arm was pulled forward, successfully causing him to fall onto his stomach. Salty tears fell into his mouth. He tried to crane his neck to look at his brother with desperate eyes. “Let go of me! Please, Soda!”

“Stop crying, kid,” Steve spat, pressing his heel in the small of his back. “You’re seriously annoying. Everything would be better without you, you know that?”

“Everyone’s life would be better with you gone,” Darry said.

“All the days we had to put up with you and force a smile on our faces,” Two-Bit listed. “All the times we had to cancel plans to watch over you.”

“We hated you,” Soda hissed and the others started to chant that over and over.

“Shut up!” Ponyboy screamed. It was fake! They weren’t real! They were illusions… right? But this was too real to be a nightmare and if it was, he wasn’t able to wake up from it.

“We hated you!”

“Stop!”

“Every day we wanted you gone. Why couldn’t you be good for once and disappear?”

“Stop it!”

“You caused us pain so we’re going to cause you pain,” Darry growled.

The switchblade was brought closer to his arm and Ponyboy thrashed even more wildly. He wailed at the top of his lungs, “No! Stop! Don’t!”

But his words fell on deaf ears as its sharp blade pressed against his arm, twirling like a ballerina but not yet cutting. Pony shook his head, snot running down as he blubbered, “Let me go! Please! I’ll go away, I promise. Don’t do this.”

“But if we let you go, then how will you make up for everything you did to us?” Steve asked.

The blade finally cut into him, splitting open his skin and sliding into his flesh without much resistance. A scream ripped out of Ponyboy’s throat. He kicked his legs and pulled at his arm, screamed, and begged, but the gang started to laugh. Half of their faces were obscured by that shadowy blur and their grins twisted sinisterly. Mocking. Taunting. Enjoying his torment and pain.

Two-Bit ran the blade down his arm, awing at the blood that spilled out in many tiny waterfalls. The cut ran from near his elbow to his wrist and when he was done with one cut, he started a new one right next to it. Then another one until three long slashes were gouged into his forearm.

It hurt!

It hurt!

It hurt!

It hurt!

It hurt!

It hurt!

Stop!

Stop!

Please, stop!

He couldn’t take it!

It hurt!

Why was this happening to him? What did he do to deserve this? Annoy them, apparently. If this was an illusion, why was he in pain?

“Look at that!” they all chanted together. They laughed and laughed, cackling so hard that blood started to spit out and spray onto Ponyboy. Their heads started to cave in as a deep Bordeaux red spilled out of the bowl like a fountain. First was their heads, and then the rest of their bodies started to crumple inward. They smiled as their flesh swapped with their skin and their teeth started to fall out of their mouths one after the other. Steve, who was standing over him melted away like the others, spilling his entrails all over him. They slid off as if they had a mind of their own, mixing together with everyone else’s. When it was all gathered together, it was pulled upward by a point and all Ponyboy could do was watch it form limbs and features until he was staring at a near replica of himself.

In the back of his mind, he realized that he could finally move freely again and he shot back up, cradling his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut–his throat so tight that it was as if he had been strangled by his tears.

It was just an illusion. Everything was fake.

Fake.

Fake.

Fake.

None of this was real.

But it felt like it was. His throbbing arm was proof. His head was spinning, and the scents of rotten flesh and sulfur that wafted around weren’t helping either.

“DO YOU SEE WHAT I CAN DO TO YOU?” the entity giggled. “AND I DIDN’T HAVE TO TOUCH YOU ONCE.”

But it did touch him! It cut him three times.

Ponyboy’s eyes snapped open as he took a look at his arm and grew dizzy at the sight of it. Although he had just been cut a minute ago, the wound was puffy and discolored and was leaking chunky, yellow pus. Something moved under it, causing his skin to shift around. The wounds opened wider as a swarm of small beetles started to crawl out, making him feel sick to his stomach. Their tiny antennae and legs skittered about, almost tickling him. He hastily went to swat them away but his eyes zeroed in on the blood that was caked under his nails. He had a horrible realization.

“DO YOU SEE WHAT I CAN MAKE YOU DO TO YOURSELF?”

He did this?

“IT WAS ALL YOU!”

Him? It wasn’t the gang? He thought they hated him.

“THEY HATE YOU! THEY LOATHE YOU! SO WHY DON’T YOU LET ME KILL THEM FOR YOU?”

His face was grabbed and he was forced to look up at his own. Everything but his eyes–glowing and white–looked the same for a moment before it started to morph. Ponyboy didn’t have enough energy to move as its mouth opened wider than what a normal person could do. Its jaw became unhinged as it got closer to him.

Was this it?

He wanted to struggle and run but his limbs were as heavy as lead. There was no way he was able to escape now.

He closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to die.

“Ponyboy? Do you hear me?” Castor’s voice cut through his hazy mind. “Don’t give into it, you hear? Don’t let it get you.”

“Castor?” he whispered, throat constricting once he uttered his name. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here. Please come back to me. You promised. I swear to God if you don’t come back…”

His eyes shot back to his copied figure only to find that it was no longer there. Only a pile of blood and entrails was left tangled on the ground. A newfound resolve ran through his veins like a shot of adrenaline. He scrambled to his feet despite the weight, slipping on the pile as he ran to the staircase.

“Castor!” he screamed, ignoring all the voices from the gang that was all feining worry. The only one he could trust was Castor’s.

The blood followed him like it was his shadow and when he thought he was finally free, arms shot out of it and grabbed onto him. Ponyboy struggled to move forward as they tried to pull him back by the clothes. His feet sunk into the goop like quicksand and by the time he made it to the stairs, he was chest-deep in it. He yelled out in frustration, clawing at the floor to keep moving. The hands grabbed onto his face, pressing their grimy fingers into his mouth and forcefully opening it. Their nails stabbed under his tongue and on the roof of his mouth as it was cranked open as wide as it could go.

All breath was cut from his throat when there was movement in it, wiggling like a large worm and moving up it like vomit. He gargled when a rotten arm shot out of his mouth. It grabbed onto his forehead, forced him to close his eyes, and fully dunked him in the goop. Instantly, his mouth filled with disgusting, thick blood.

In the distance, he could barely make out someone saying, “Holy! Look at the kid’s mouth! It’s foaming!”

He couldn’t understand what they were talking about. He thrashed, pulling out the arm–severed at the bicep–out of his mouth. It squirmed in his hold and Ponyboy let go of it as he was pulled even further down. Under him, his legs kicked uselessly.

He was going to drown here, wasn’t he? With this awful taste on his tongue too. He wished he could cry or scream. Hell, he wished he could do anything really, but everything was useless now.

“Pony, it’ll be okay. Open your eyes,” Castor said, voice still loud and clear. “I’m right here.”

Right here? Right where? He didn’t want to open his eyes. He was too scared to. He could feel a dark presence around him and all he wanted was to feel Castor’s touch instead and to smell his scent.

“Come on. Don’t lose. Just reach out to me. You promised that you’d come back to me.”

He did promise him, but he couldn’t reach him. He was a coward. Maybe that was also a reason why the gang wanted to hurt him.

“I’m really going to haunt your ass you know,” Castor threatened and Ponyboy almost snorted.

He meant it too. Even if he died, he would find a way. So he couldn’t have that happen, could he?

What was he even thinking before? Castor said he was nearby. All he had to do was reach him.

With new gusto, Ponyboy kicked his legs. The blood was thicker than water. Its pressure forced him down, making it feel like he was sinking more than he was rising, and it felt like he would never breach the surface. Each extra kick made him lose more hope and just when he was about to give up completely he felt a hand grab his wrist and pull him up in one big pull. When his head breached, air filled his lungs and suddenly lights blinded him.

He was still in the basem*nt he realized when he wasn’t so disoriented–he could recognize it anywhere at this point. Multiple flashlights were all beaming at his face, jumping when he shot up and started coughing.

“Oh, thank God!” Soda cried out. Hands grabbed onto him and Ponyboy was finally aware of everything. When he looked at the gang, he froze up. His vision narrowed, hearing laughter in the back of his mind.

No. Not them again! They were going to hurt him!

He shoved Soda away with a yell, “Get away from me!”

He stumbled over his arms as he moved away, wincing as the three long scratch marks were jostled. They did this before–feigned innocence and worry–and he wasn’t about to fall for it again. They moved forward and Ponyboy let out a whimper, “No more, please.”

“What’s wrong?” Darry asked, confused about why his little brother was suddenly acting so scared of them. They tried to go closer to him, but Ponyboy yelled at the top of his lungs for them to stay away. Never had they seen Ponyboy act this way before.

Tears were falling down his cheeks as his heart palpitated. Eyes flashed to each of them as if he didn’t know when one of them would move. “Leave me alone! I don’t want to do this no more.”

“Pull it together,” Steve said, grabbing onto Ponyboy’s shoulder.

“No!” Ponyboy’s eyes widened even more as he, once again, shoved the hand away. With nowhere to go, he curled himself into a ball. “Get away. Please. Just leave me alone.”

“Relax, kid. You’re acting like I’m going to hurt you or something.”

“Leave me alone.” But when the gang, who were so worried for him, went closer to him to pull him out of his ball, Ponyboy started to go ballistic. He screamed at the top of his lungs. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me! Castor, help me!”

Instantly a new person was in his sight, blocking the gang from his view.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m here, Lil’ Grease,” Castor cooed, breathing out a sigh of relief when Ponyboy visibly relaxed even if it was just a bit. The boy started to bawl, wiping away the excess foam from his mouth. Castor wrapped his arms around him, letting him breathe in his scent. Ponyboy pressed his head against his chest, and it probably looked silly from an outside perspective, but he didn’t care. Castor was here and the ghost wasn’t going to let anyone touch him. “That was a close one. You almost got possessed by that thing.”

He petted his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He continued, “It’s going to be alright now.”

This seemed like a dream. Maybe it was too good to be true.

“Is this real?” Ponyboy asked, wanting the clarification to soothe his doubt. “Are they real?”

Castor looked at the gang. He wished he could communicate with them because he had a feeling he knew what the demon had shown him. He wished he could talk to Ponyboy about it but he knew that he had to wait. One step at a time. “Yeah, everyone here is real.”

Finally, at those words, Ponyboy calmed down. But even though he was calmer, he couldn’t bring himself to look at the gang, not when the memory was so fresh. The room was still freezing and Ponyboy worried that he was going to be dragged back under if he stayed there for another minute. “Can I get out of here? I don’t like this basem*nt.”

Castor nodded. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He helped him up but struggled to do so. Castor frowned. Ponyboy had no energy left in his body and the presence was still down there, but despite that, he managed to secure him. They slowly made their way to the stairs and hopefully, this would be the last time they would have to go up it.

“Where are you going?” Darry asked after him, but Ponyboy flinched. The gang tried to follow but he cried even harder and told them to leave him alone again, leaving them at a loss. They were forced to stay behind until it was clear for them to go.

When he got to the top, Ponyboy stepped over a broken down door, feeling instantly a hundred times better up there. The next thing they had to do was leave the house completely.

“Can we go outside?” he asked. Castor hummed in agreement and led him to the front door.

“I guess we’re going home,” Two-Bit said. At that point, everyone wanted that. They wanted to forget this night had ever happened–everyone but Mr. Cooper that was. He rushed in front of Ponyboy and waved the picture in front of his face.

“Wait! We still have to look at the picture!” he exclaimed. Ponyboy and Castor stopped. The greaser was too nice for his own good. Not looking directly at the picture, he pointed to the center of it where a blurry and indiscernible kid was displayed. It was hard to see its features but its glowing eyes drew them in and gave everyone who looked directly into them a sense of disquietude.

“That’s it,” was all Ponyboy said and pushed by the owner.

“That’s a demon?” Mr. Cooper asked, co*cking his head to the side. “It kind of looks like a kid.”

“It’s not. It only took the appearance of one.”

He was almost out of the house now. The owner called out for him to stop because of how many questions he had but Steve had enough of him and socked him in the jaw. He had been waiting all night to do that and he wondered how he managed not to do so sooner. He followed the others outside.

The fresh, crisp night air made it feel like Ponyboy’s entire being had been purified. He took a deep breath. It was so much better than sulfur, rotten flesh, or mold. The gang, much to his relief, stayed a bit away from him, never getting too close but still nearby to keep a close eye on him. That was fine. As long as they didn’t touch or harm him. He could tell they had a billion questions, but Ponyboy was in no state to answer any of them.

His legs finally gave in. His knees buckled and forced him to sit on the ground. He covered his bleeding arm, his only physical injury, with his hand. His nails, caked in his blood, pressed lightly against his skin.

He guessed the demon told the truth about one thing. It never touched him once.

Chapter 23: Ghosts Don't Make Good Umbrellas

Chapter Text

Trapped. That was what Ponyboy felt at that moment. He was in an underwater cage surrounded by hungry sharks and there was no way to escape. He couldn’t go up, forward, or down. All he could do was wait for the bars to be ripped apart by them. Only the sharks in his metaphor were the loitering gang, and the cage was his inability to get anywhere without them stalking him.

His breathing wavered as he pressed his sweaty palms against his eyes. He needed to get out of there; away from the house and the gang. He needed to go on a walk or do something to clear his head. He just couldn’t be around them right now.

Now that he had calmed down significantly since the basem*nt, he was aware that the gang in front of him was real. Everything that he had seen down there had been one elaborate illusion created to make him go mad. Yet, even though he knew that, he still couldn’t bring himself to look at his brothers or his friends.

So, he told the gang that he needed to go on a walk without them, and, as expected, they were hesitant to agree. Why wouldn’t they be? It was nearing midnight now–a few hours past his curfew–and the streets were dark and filled with the dangerous risk of him being jumped or abducted. He would be alone if they didn’t count Castor and Ponyboy wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to common sense. They didn’t like him being out so late. Especially since what happened several months ago with Johnny.

“Please, I just need to clear my head,” Ponyboy begged.

He honestly didn’t know if he would be able to be in the same vehicle as them and the gang was also thinking about this problem too. Eventually, Darry sighed, “Fine, but no wandering around. You’re going straight here to home, savvy?”

Everyone was surprised that Darry was letting him do that. They were expecting him to put his foot down and tell him to suck it up. After he saw the surprise, Darry decided to go on a rant on why he decided to allow him to do so. Something about not being far from home and not being alone. He also switched it up and started to lecture him on what to do if something happened and went over what streets he had to take to get from point A to point B. The younger brother was only half listening at that point.

After Darry felt satisfied enough, Ponyboy and Castor started on their walk. The gang drove ahead but did so slowly to keep an eye on him for as long as possible.

Ponyboy’s legs were shaky. The adrenaline had dwindled down and left him exhausted. The only thing that was keeping him from stopping was the strong wind on his back.

While they were in the house, it must have rained. The reflection of the traffic lights on the wet ground caused it to glow red and the frigid air made his nose run. Ponyboy sniffled as he stared up at the cloudly and starless night sky. His socks quickly became soaked as he splashed through puddle after puddle.

The walk was silent for most of the way. Both of them couldn’t bring themselves to speak one word. So, instead, they listened to the hum of distant cars and the siren of an ambulance that held a story that Ponyboy would never learn. Wind howled through the alleyways, knocking down soaked leaves that stuck to his skin like plaster. Perhaps this was a preamble to the heavy rainstorm that was about to hit the city of Tulsa.

It was odd to walk next to Castor and have it be silent. Usually, he would talk nonsense. Even during the night when Ponyboy had to sleep, Castor would keep chatting. The boy had gotten so used to it that he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep without listening to him anymore. Even now, Ponyboy wanted to listen to him. He wondered why the ghost wasn’t speaking until he decided to look at him through the corners of his eyes.

The ghost was constantly looking at him, glancing quickly at the visible wounds on his body and scowling deeply. Was he angry at him for getting hurt? He rubbed at his scratched arm subconsciously.

Ponyboy was the one to break the silence as he asked, “Are you mad at me?”

Castor looked at him in surprise, “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I got myself hurt.”

“But that wasn’t you.” That wasn’t correct. Castor didn’t know that the demon didn’t touch him. “Besides, I’m not mad at you. I’m angry at myself.”

Now it was Ponyboy’s turn to look at him in surprise. “Why?”

The two of them slowed to a stop. Castor gently grabbed Ponyboy’s wounded arm and lifted it to be more visible. Bruises from his fall had already started to form and the scratch marks were still ghastly to look at. Although, he preferred how they looked now compared to the illusion version of it. Castor lightly stroked along the scratches with his thumb, causing Ponyboy to squirm as electricity shot up his body.

“Because I can’t help but feel like I failed you…” Castor mumbled sadly, not able to look Ponyboy in the eyes.

“You didn’t fail me,” Ponyboy reassured.

“You got hurt because I couldn’t protect you from that thing.”

“No. “Ponyboy grabbed Castor’s jaw with his unoccupied hand and forced their eyes to lock. “That wasn’t your fault, you hear? You did everything right.”

But even though he said that, Castor looked doubtful. Ponyboy’s breath hitched at what he did next. Without breaking eye contact, Castor gently kissed Pony’s wrist, right under where scratches ended. It was light and almost felt like a feather had tickled him. His body instantly heated up as if he were standing in front of a fire.

“What… What was that for?” Ponyboy blubbered, a blush finding its way to his cheeks.

“A kiss to make the wound heal faster,” Castor said simply. He leaned a bit away and his grip on his arm loosened. Ponyboy honestly didn’t know if he wanted the ghost to let go or not.

His brain was spinning and all he could manage to utter was, “A little cliché, don’t you think?”

“Did you not want me to do this?”

He didn’t know! His brain was all mush and he was so confused. It wasn’t like he hated it. It actually felt nice, but he shouldn’t be feeling this way. He shouldn’t want Castor to do it again, but he did. He licked his lips. “I wouldn’t say that.”

A small yet somewhat nervous smirk formed on Castor’s lips and again Ponyboy’s breath hitched when he kissed a bruise on his arm. He continued to pepper these kisses from bruise to scratch. He went up his limb as lightly as he could before he planted his final one at the top of the long scratches near his elbow. And when he lowered the arm, the two of them were nose to nose with each other.

Ponyboy felt himself stop breathing. This feeling that he was experiencing was different than when he was around other ghosts. Even his palpitating heartbeat wasn’t the same. While ghosts made him feel like he was drowning, this feeling with Castor made it feel like he was about to float to outer space–a feeling so unknown to him, yet known enough that he could recognize that he only felt this way with him.

A drop of rain fell between Pony’s brows, which was soon followed by more, drenching him in less than a moment. The two of them never broke eye contact, words caught on both tongues. Two sides were screaming at Ponyboy. One was telling him to back away because his brain was overloading. The other part was telling him to get closer and remove that inch of distance from him. At the very back, however, was a voice so quiet. It told him that he shouldn’t pursue this any longer and that this was wrong. In actuality, he wanted that voice to be wrong.

It seemed though that he didn’t have to move because Castor started to step away. Ponyboy already started to feel regret. Without thinking about it, he reached out and grabbed Castor’s wrist to keep him in place. Luckily, his hand didn’t phase through.

“I… I…” Ponyboy stuttered. Too bad he couldn’t get his words together. What should he do now?

“We probably should stop here,” Castor said and Ponyboy would be lying if he said that didn’t hurt a bit. But that changed when he continued. “If we don’t stop, I may seriously kiss you.”

Ponyboy wasn’t sure what he was on. Maybe the adrenaline was still pumping in his veins or maybe it was the previous moment that had him grasped with a chokehold. Or maybe it was the feeling that he would regret it if he didn’t do it. Whatever it was, he was feeling bold. “Then kiss me.”

His words shocked Castor who looked away to hide his blush. Ponyboy probably looked just as flushed. The seconds of standing were agonizing. It left room for more intrusive thoughts and made Ponyboy want to go back in time so he could keep his mouth shut. He moved back, letting his fingers linger on his wrist for a second before letting it fall.

He let out a very obviously fake laugh, muttering, “Sorry, that was a joke–”

But before he could finish his sentence, Castor leaned in and gently pressed his lips against his own. Ponyboy’s eyes widened and the ghost squeezed his shut as tight as they could go. It was over in a second but if his brain wasn’t functioning before, it sure wasn’t now. His mind was fogged up as if he were drunk, but he hadn’t had anything. Just a small peck was enough to invoke this sensation. If he were a robot he was sure that the words SYSTEM FAILURE were flashing erratically.

It was raining something fierce now, which was the only thing that was able to bring them both back to reality. Castor giggled at it and Ponyboy joined along with him. The idea of guys liking guys had been put to the back of his mind. He had so many questions, but the heavy precipitation made it difficult for him to ask them.

He probably looked like a wet dog. They needed to find some shelter so they could wait it out. He pulled up his hood. While out there, it had gathered a small pool of water and when he pulled it up, the content slithered down his back like a dropped ice cube.

“Wait, wait. I got you,” Castor laughed. He found the human’s attempt to stay dry to be cute. He tried to cover Ponyboy with his body to block the rain from hitting him, but it didn’t work and the droplets fell through him and onto the other.

“I’m still getting wet, jerk!” Ponyboy exclaimed jokingly. Honestly, it didn’t matter if he blocked the rain anyway. He was already soaked to the bone. Ponyboy looked around and saw a shop nearby with an awning. He pointed towards it. “Let’s get cover over there!”

They started to run towards it. Pony’s feet slashed in puddles, reminding him how much water his shoes and socks had absorbed. When they reached the awning, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

The store, although closed, kept its lights on. It was casting a warm glow that comforted them from the dark. They were lucky that they made it under in time because the rain started to fall even faster until it was hard to see in front of them. The raindrops pelted the awning, making it sound like someone was shooting an automatic BB gun at it.

“Man, it’s really raining down hard now,” Castor whistled.

“Yeah,” Ponyboy mumbled. Maybe they should have sprinted home. He was already freezing and soaked, and he wouldn’t have to deal with potential awkward silences. Luckily, Castor kept talking this time.

“You know, I think I used to hate the rain. You could never do anything during a storm. It stops everything and things are gloomy as hell.”

“Maybe so,” Ponyboy said. His face turned up towards the sky, watching the raindrops reflect the light from the store. “But you know what? It’s not so bad, in my opinion. It might seem like time is frozen and it might feel like the rain is neverending, but it creates something else entirely. During a storm, people go inside which means there are no eyes to judge you. This and the wind that wakes you up… isn’t there something so liberating about that? Doesn’t it feel like you’re free?”

“Well, I never really thought about it like that.”

“And when you don’t have to worry about judgment, you can do ridiculous stuff like dancing in the rain. There will be no one there to laugh at you. And when the rain finally ends, you are ensured that sunlight will come next. Rays of light will beam through spaces in the clouds and create spotlights for the life that is waking up from a long, refreshing nap. Even humans will come out of their homes like ants from their hills.”

He continued, “And don’t you feel happy and excited–almost giddy–when the sun returns? And isn’t it mesmerizing how fairytale-like the world becomes afterward? The colors of everything become saturated. The grass turns greener and the sky will shine a myriad of colors during dawn and dusk. Even the blue sky will seem richer and we can’t forget about the rainbow that arches as far as the eye can see. Doesn’t this all make you happy? And don’t you feel happier around happy people? It’s like a virus that makes you want to skip.”

Ponyboy smiled. Both of his eyes glimmered like two warm suns. Castor found himself melting at the sight of it. His expression made him feel alive again. Christ, did he love how this human sees the beauty in everything. To him, Ponyboy was his sun. It was him that gave him light, life, and happiness. He was what made him feel giddy. So, he told him that.

“With you, it’s like I always have the sun with me,” he said and Ponyboy’s nose twitched like a rabbit and his ears turned red, now very prominent under the shop’s light. Cute. Cute. Cute.

The boy bashfully looked at his feet and whispered just loud enough for the ghost to hear, “And you’re mine.”

It was Castor’s turn to flush. His entire face turned beet red. It was one thing to hear him call him his sun, but Castor kept repeating the words “you’re mine” in his head and holy crap. He liked the sound of that. He knew that Ponyboy said it without thinking about the double meaning, but a guy can sure dream. But why did those words affect him so much? It wasn’t like he was…

Castor found himself deflating and Ponyboy was also worrying about the same thing. That awkward silence that they were dreading had arrived.

Ponyboy’s nails subconsciously scratched at a chip on the window that he was leaning against. There was a pit in his stomach that was slowly growing bigger. This was bad. Castor shouldn’t be making him feel this way, but he just couldn’t help it. Every time he looked at him, he couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in his stomach. And those kisses that were left on his arms made him yearn for him to do that again. What did Soda say about what it was like to like someone? Did this mean he liked Castor? All signs were pointing to yes.

He liked Castor.

And he was queer.

Ponyboy’s heart sank. A few minutes ago, Castor kissed him so he was pretty sure he liked him back somewhat (unless he was teasing him) but he couldn’t let himself feel excited about that. Being queer was basically a death sentence. People were scared of those who were different. Those who went against their beliefs were damned.

He wasn’t blind. He knew that the queer were often jumped and killed. He knew about all the bullying they had to endure and how their families reacted to them after learning about their deviance.

But there was nothing wrong with being gay. He still felt like himself. Nothing changed about him besides his further awareness of his identity.

He liked boys and he loved the fluffy feeling in his heart that Castor gave him.

But he wasn’t allowed to be this way. If someone found out about his sexual deviance, then he would rather not think about his fate.

Castor finally decided to start talking again and to change the subject, but his choice of topic only made the light go out in Pony’s eyes. He asked, “Hey, what happened down there? What did it show you?”

Ponyboy had expected Castor to ask him this. He knew he was going to have to explain to him, but he also knew that the gang was waiting for an explanation as well. If he was going to talk about it, he only wanted to do it once.

“Let’s wait until we get back to my place. I have to explain it to the gang too,” Ponyboy said. “We should go soon. They’re probably worried sick already.”

“But that reaction earlier…” Castor spoke, looking doubtful. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m going to have to be. It wanted me to be afraid of them. I don’t want to give it that satisfaction.” Ponyboy closed his eyes tightly, grimacing as the recent memory replayed. “Even still, I don’t know if I will ever be able to look at them the same way again. It scared me and now, whenever I close my eyes, all I can see is its smile. I want something to distract me from it, but I don’t know what.”

Whatever the demon showed him, it must have scarred him. Castor knew how much he loved the gang. To change this in a matter of minutes, he must have seen something bad. He just wished he could help him.

An idea popped up in Castor’s head. He pushed himself off the window and twirled on one heel until he was standing back under the rain. He held out his hand and said, “Then how about I distract you.”

“And how would you do that?” Ponyboy questioned.

“Just take my hand.” At those words, Ponyboy was reminded about the time that he and Castor went flying. At his hesitance, Castor re-extended his arm. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to fly today. With this weather, you’ll turn into fried chicken.”

With that reassurance, Ponyboy placed a hand on Castor’s. He smirked. “I ain’t no chicken. And, for your record, lightning can't fry a chicken. You need oil for that.”

Castor only grinned back at him. “Then how about we use oil later?”

Ponyboy cringed at the innuendo. He huffed and rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”

He was pulled back into the rain. Castor brought him in close, placing his other hand on Ponyboy’s waist. The greaser could already feel the spot heating up at the touch. They were chest to chest, and Ponyboy was forced to tilt his head up.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Dance?” Castor answered. It was more like a question.

“Dance?”

“You said you wanted to dance in the rain.”

Yeah, he did mention that, but, “Not in public!”

There could be people watching him. He would die of embarrassment before he got home.

“You also said that the rain made it possible to dance in the rain without judgment.”

He also said that. Christ, he was falling right into a hole he unintentionally dug himself.

“So…” Castor dragged that word out playfully. “Dance with me and let me take your mind off of everything.”

Ponyboy sighed. There was no getting out of this, was there?

“To what music?” he asked.

The ghost hummed. There was nothing to dance to. He shrugged and moved so that Ponyboy’s ear would be against his chest. Somehow, this position felt even more intimate. “To the beat of my heart.”

“What heart? You don’t have one.”

“Saying that is pretty rude you know?”

“Sorry.”

“Then to your heartbeat then,” Castor snorted. “I can feel it.”

They started to move and Ponyboy stumbled along. He let him lead the dance and if Castor wasn’t a ghost, he was sure he would have trampled his feet with how much he fumbled about. They swayed forward and back for a while until they got used to the movement. When they got comfortable, Castor started to move them across the sidewalk, twirling him in circles.

Ponyboy squeezed Castor’s shoulder, relaxing eventually. The ghost was careful with how he handled him. He knew that he was injured. He paid careful care to the large scratches on his arm.

A slow dance it was, but their attempt wasn’t as graceful as it was in the movies. They eventually fell into rhythm with each other and Ponyboy found himself wishing that this would never end. He nuzzled into Castor’s chest, feeling his heartbeat get quicker. And with this, the dance also became faster. What was once a waltz turned into a tango.

They spun around each other, laughing loudly as their dance went wild. What they were doing shouldn’t even be considered a tango with how badly they were dancing. They were just having fun with each other. They skipped, twirled, kicked, and marched all while forgetting what had kept them down.

Time went by way too quickly and, soon, they found themselves in front of the house. They breathed heavily and grinned so large. Ponyboy’s cheeks started to hurt from it. He found his gaze set on Castor’s lips, yearning for them to be placed on his again. But they needed to stop. Now that they were back, the bubble they were in had to be popped. Not even the rain could help them anymore. They were now back in reality.

The younger boy stepped away, causing the ghost to tilt his head to the side, and oh, boy did that look cute. He suppressed the thought before it could become a problem.

“You okay?” Castor asked. Ponyboy shrugged, hands numb.

“Let’s just go in,” he said, shoving them under his armpits.

Inside the house, the gang were all waiting for him. Dally and Johnny were there as well. Both of them didn’t know what was going on, but they knew that something big had happened when the gang hardly spoke and just stared expectantly at the door for several minutes.

“You’re soaked,” Darry observed. He stood up. “Look at you, shivering like a leaf. I knew we shouldn’t have let you walk. The next thing we know, you’re going to be coming down with a fever. We need to get you into dry clothes.”

“Hold on,” Soda said before Darry could take a step forward. “Is it okay for us to be in the same room as you? You couldn’t look at us earlier.”

Ponyboy nodded but he turned away from them, finding a stain on the carpet more interesting. He replied, “It’s fine. I have to talk to you all anyway. I’m… uh… I’m sorry that I freaked out.”

Soda shook his head sadly. “You don’t have to apologize for that. Go get changed, okay, Pone? Make sure your wounds are clean too. And when you’re ready, we can talk.”

Ponyboy took his time to dress himself, doing whatever he could to delay the inevitable. He even put on an extra jacket to waste time. Before he entered his room, he had grabbed the first aid kit and moved almost in slow motion to disinfect and dress any open wounds. During this time, he thought about how he was going to explain what happened to him. There was no way he could beat around the bush and no way to say it gently to them, but at least he was able to organize his thoughts more.

When he ran out of excuses to delay the talk, he returned to the living room. Even though his legs were begging for him to sit down, he remained standing, pressing his back against the furthest wall just in case something were to happen. He could never be quite sure anymore, which was terrible.

“What happened?” Dally hummed. “It’s too tense in here.”

“Pony?” Johnny asked, getting closer to him when he noticed the shortness of his friend’s breath.

“Uh…” Ponyboy trailed off. “Johnny and Dally want to know what happened.”

“They’re here?” Two-Bit marveled. “I wonder if that crazy guy knew what he was talking about when he said that we would be able to hear spirits through a recording.”

“We can always find out,” Darry said. “Mom and Dad had a recorder in the basem*nt.”

“I think I’m done with basem*nts for the year,” Steve chuckled which only confused Dally more.

“Is no one going to explain?” he grumbled. “Come on!”

Castor then tried to fill them in to the best of his abilities. When he was done, Dally looked at them incredulously. “We leave you guys alone for a few hours and you visit demons?”

“In my defense, I didn’t want to go,” Ponyboy defended. He continued Castor’s background. “It targeted me because I could see it. I tried so hard to ignore it, but it still got me.”

“It looked like a kid, right? We saw it in the photo,” Soda brought up.

Ponyboy stiffly shook his head. “It wasn’t one. It wanted to throw me off or something, probably because I saw those kids upstairs. It looked more like a shadow.”

“We saw that,” Two-Bit spoke. “There was a big shadow in the basem*nt that scared even Superman here.”

“But why did we see it?” Steve questioned.

“I don’t know. I’ve never dealt with anything like it before,” Ponyboy admitted. “We went to leave but I… I didn’t make it. I fell. It appeared in front of me and when I took a step back, I slipped and fell. It locked me down there. Not even Castor could get to me, it was that strong. I was alone with it and–”

Ponyboy choked on his words, hiccuping.

“You don’t have to explain everything today,” Darry said.

“Or at all,” Soda quickly added. “Do whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

And this was why Ponyboy was sure that these were the real versions of the gang. He continued his story, knowing that he could be strong, “It showed me stuff, stuff I don’t want to think about again.”

“What did it show you?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah, what did you see?” Dally echoed.

Castor’s hand touched his shoulder and Ponyboy instinctively placed a hand over his. “While you all saw a shadow, I saw Two-Bit.”

“Me?” Two-Bit said, pointing to himself.

“It wasn’t you. It only took your form.” Ponyboy swallowed the lump in his throat. “It took all of your forms and then used them to torture me.”

Everyone stopped breathing. What? The demon used them to hurt him? All of them didn’t know how to react. They wanted what they heard to be wrong. Was this why Ponyboy had those scratches on his arms?

“We tortured you?” Soda gasped, putting a hand over his mouth.

“Not us, the demon,” Steve corrected. It wasn’t much better.

“We would never hurt you,” Two-Bit claimed. The others nodded in agreement. “You know that. That wasn’t us.”

“I know,” Ponyboy said. The demon didn’t even hurt him. That was all him. But he decided not to tell them that to not worry them more. “It just scared me at the time. It felt so real and I know I overreacted when I snapped to.”

“You didn’t overreact,” Soda said. He wanted so desperately to hug his younger brother. He held himself back though, knowing that he shouldn’t. “Pone, we’re sorry that you had to go through that. We shouldn’t have gone there at all. You didn’t want to go but we still did.”

Ponyboy gave him a watery smile. “It’s not like we knew that this was going to happen.”

“But still… We could have done better. We can do better now,” Darry spoke up. “If you need anything just let us know.”

“I will,” Ponyboy nodded. They could go on forever talking about this, but at that point, he finally had enough. “Right now, I think I’m going to sleep in my old room again. Just until I calm down more. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” Dally sighed. “Don’t apologize for anything you didn’t do wrong.”

“Whatever you need,” Soda reassured. The gang didn’t move and Ponyboy didn’t know if he liked that or not. It was only temporary, of course. He knew that it hurt them and it hurt him too. All of them had to adapt and sort things out. He was going to have to visit this topic later. It was only placed on hold for now. That demon wasn’t going to win, but healing takes time.

It had been a long night and Ponyboy was about to collapse. But even though he was exhausted, he was scared to fall asleep. He was a hundred percent sure that the demon didn’t follow him, but sleeping meant reliving.

Not wanting to rest yet, he turned to Johnny and asked, “Can I talk to you about something? Alone.”

Chapter 24: Here's Me

Chapter Text

“What do you want to talk about?” Johnny asked when Ponyboy closed the door to his room.

Before they had entered, the young greaser made sure that Castor hadn’t followed him. He could never be a hundred percent sure that the ghost wasn’t eavesdropping in on them, but he would like to believe he wouldn’t.

Castor didn’t want to leave Ponyboy’s side and even Dally didn’t like the fact that he was going to be stuck with the other ghost (said ghost latched onto him as soon as he was told to wait) until Johnny and him finished their chat. So, to mediate, Ponyboy said they would take no longer than five minutes, but he knew that he wouldn’t even be ready in that amount of time.

The duo sat down on the bed and Pony desperately wanted to relax now that he had the chance to sit down properly. However, what ended up happening was a crumbled dam. There was no more energy to hold up the walls he had carefully built up.

“Johnnycakes, I don’t know what to do,” Ponyboy sniffled. He was so pathetic. It seemed like all he did these days was cry. A voice in the back of his head mocked him because of how much he sobbed and how weak that made him.

Johnny’s eyebrows crinkled together in worry as he asked, “What happened? Is this about the demon?”

Ponyboy shook his head and rubbed at his tightening throat until it started to turn red. “No, it has nothing to do with that.”

Now the ghost was even more concerned. “What’s going on?”

Where would he even begin? Should Ponyboy rip the bandage off and just say it or should he try to do it slowly and gently? Was there even a way to say it easily? He groaned, wanting to rip his hair out. Why did this have to be so hard? “I don’t know how to explain this, but I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny was frowning deeply. He wondered what was on his friend's mind that was plaguing him so much. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Yes there is,” Ponyboy objected, chewing aggressively on the insides of his cheeks. “There’s something seriously wrong with me and I don’t know how to say it.”

Like a knight, Johnny placed a hand over his heart as if he were making an oath to him. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, but if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’ll listen to you no matter what.”

And Ponyboy was grateful for him, so much so that he almost chose not to continue, but he wanted to tell him. No matter what, he was going to do it that night. But it was the “what if” that scared him silent. What if Johnny was going to react badly? What if his fears were true and there was something wrong with him? What if?

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he decided that he just had to do it. If he didn’t do it now, when was he going to? The more he dillydallied, the more anxious he was going to become. He took a deep breath and before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, he said almost too quietly, “I think I’m gay.”

He did it. It was out there. But even though he said it, there was still a heavy weight on his chest and a large pit in his stomach. He found himself not being able to look at his friend’s face, too scared that he was only going to be met with disgust. However what he was met with felt equally as bad. It was silence.

The pit in his stomach grew. He knew it. There was something wrong with him.

He was sick; a freak.

His entire existence was wrong.

Gross.

Monstrosity.

Misguided.

His vision was swimming and darkening at the edges, closing him off and trapping him in a shrinking box. The voices in his head wailed at him and drowned him with their painful words.

You’re disgusting.

You’re not the same Ponyboy anymore.

It would be better for you to die.

He wanted to throw up. A mistake had been made. He shouldn’t have told him. Now Johnny was going to hate him. But it wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway if he really thought about it. He was still queer. Nobody could ever love someone like him. That was the way of the world it seemed like. At least, if he hadn’t told him, everything would have been the same.

“I’m sorry,” Ponyboy sobbed, choking on his tears. “Something’s wrong with me.”

Finally, Johnny started to speak and the younger greaser prepared himself for the backlash, but it wasn’t like how he expected it to go.

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Johnny reassured, bending forward so that he could look at Pony’s face. He wore a gentle smile with no sign of deception in his eyes. “Nothing wrong at all.”

“But aren’t I gross?” Ponyboy asked. “Why did you take so long to say something?”

“I was surprised. Golly, after everything that happened, I expected you to start talking about the demon or the murderer. I needed to process everything, but you are not gross, Ponyboy.”

He wouldn’t lie, would he? For the first time, he doubted Johnny. “But I like guys.”

“What makes liking someone gross?”

Because it was unnatural, Ponyboy wanted to argue. He was always told that a man and a woman should be together because that was the only way a child could be brought into this world. But was that really what justified what was natural? Or was this influenced by religious teachings? Would hom*ophobia as they knew it still exist without teachings from the Bible?

Since the beginning of mankind, humans have been in hom*osexual and heterosexual relationships. Everything used to be considered normal and nobody blinked an eye if you liked someone of the same gender. hom*oerotic relationships were even written in epics such as the Iliad which predated the Bible. Historically, it was around the time when Abrahamic religions spread did signs of hom*ophobia appeared. He wasn’t saying that hom*ophobia was exclusively religious based and it wasn’t like everyone who followed these types of religions was hom*ophobic, but there was just a connectivity between the two subjects.

Likewise, animals would sometimes mate with like-animals of the same gender. Humans would fall in love with people of the same gender. Humans were animals and therefore being gay should have been normal. So how was it considered deviant?

It just is, a voice in his head stated, shutting down whatever reasoning he had. Even if he did convince himself that it was okay, it didn’t mean anything. He still was a gay man living in a hom*ophobic society. He was never going to live a normal life, get married, or be able to fall in love without people turning against him. His voice wavered, “People hate those who are different.”

“I don’t hate you,” Johnny piped. “You’re still the Ponyboy I know.”

Ponyboy sniffled again. Johnny was such a great friend. He pressed his face into his hands as he sobbed and his friend hugged him tightly. And if they were in a different situation, they would have noticed that the ghost was finally able to touch something. “I’m scared. Why is my life like this?”

Johnny patted his back. “You’ll be just fine. Gosh, you won’t have it easy but you’ll get through it. You’ll have people by your side too.”

“But people will hate me.”

“People will always find something to hate. You just have to find the good ones.”

They stayed cuddled together for a minute or two until Ponyboy stopped sobbing. Then Johnny asked something that he wasn’t expecting, “Do you like Castor?”

Luckily, he wasn't drinking any water or he would have choked on it. Pony’s cheeks turned beet red faster than anyone could blink. How did he know that? “How did you…”

“Because you look at him differently.”

Did he really? Was it that noticeable? “I do?”

Johnny nodded enthusiastically. “Your eyes sparkle. I’ve only ever seen that when have something you love.”

Bashfully, Ponyboy looked away and twirled his thumbs. It was embarrassing to think that his crush was easily pointed out by someone, but once he heard Castor’s name all he was able to think about was the ash-haired, young man–his brilliant eyes, his gentle touches, his heartful laugh, and his dazzling smile. Just the image of him made his heart skip a beat. If that wasn’t a crush, then he didn’t what it was. “I think… I think I like Castor.”

Even saying his name felt different now! He wanted to continue saying it and he craved the feeling of how well it rolled off his tongue. He wondered if it was the same for Castor.

“Does he know?” Johnny asked.

Ponyboy could only shrug. “I don’t know. I want to say he does. He kissed me.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. “He kissed you?”

“Who kissed who?” Dally asked, coming into the room. Their time was up and the interruption left Ponyboy so embarrassed that he could have died. Luckily, Castor hadn’t joined them yet. That would have overkilled him.

“I…” Ponyboy’s voice faltered. He hadn’t expected Dally to come in at that moment and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to come out to another person yet. It took so much out of him to tell Johnny and he was his best friend.

Johnny wasn’t going to tell anybody, and he was pretty certain that Dally wouldn’t see him any differently as well. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the sweat sting his corneas. He should tell him. He needed to think about it as another step forward. But golly, why did it have to be so scary?

Dally waited for him to answer and it was honestly surprising how patient he was being. He must have sensed that this was a big deal for him.

“I…” Ponyboy choked but found it hard to continue further.

Dally sighed. He already knew half of the answer based on the reaction. “Look, man, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

He did want to. He wanted to say it so badly, but before he had the chance to open his mouth again, Castor entered the room and co*cked his head to the side. “Is this a party I wasn’t invited to?”

“Oh, hey,” Ponyboy greeted with the most shaky voice he had ever used. How embarrassing.

“Hey,” Castor chirped and the two stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds too long. Dally looked back and forth between them and filled in the second half of the equation. Understanding crossed his face.

“With him?” Dally asked, tone harsher than it should have been. Both Castor and Ponyboy blushed at the bluntness. “Your one kiss was with him?”

“Well, it was more than one kiss,” Castor admitted and Ponyboy felt like exploding. The ground needed to swallow him whole and Castor needed to shut his trap! No one needed to hear that detail, and because of that, the jig was up. Dally knew that he liked guys and he also knew that he liked Castor specifically. Today was seriously too much. Now all he had to do was watch Dally turn against him.

But instead of doing that, Dally only raised an eyebrow. He pointed at Castor unbelievingly. It almost seemed like he was more surprised by his choice of men than his coming out. “With you?”

“I like guys,” Ponyboy admitted, voice sounding far away. He looked over to his companion, half expecting him to be grossed out too, but Castor only smiled at him, sending warmth running to his toes. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. If he was with Castor, the world could be burning and he would still feel safe.

Dally reiterated, “But with him?”

And just like that, Ponyboy remembered something. Castor didn’t know that he liked him (or he thought he didn’t) and Dally just spilled the beans.

Pony looked at his feet, deciding to deflect the conversation in a different direction to delay the inevitable. “You’re not grossed out by me?”

Dally snorted, “Listen, I don’t care if you like guys or broads, but this guy–”

“Is the greatest ever?” Castor finished. “That must be it. I didn’t know you thought I was so amazing.”

The greaser snorted, eyes cooler than ice. He jabbed a finger into the other ghost’s chest. “You interrupt me again and your ass is grass. Understand?”

“Just telling the truth, man.”

Those two really didn’t get along (or at least, only Castor found the other amusing). Before this could get out of hand, Ponyboy reached over and pulled Castor away from Dally. He couldn’t help but think about what his friends said to him. They hadn’t said much, but those few sentences meant the world to him. He wiped at his eyes. He didn’t deserve friends like them.

“You’re tearing up,” Castor noted and gently grasped his face. He pressed a thumb right under his eye to wipe a tear trail away. His eyebrows crumpled together in concern and concentration as he did so. Ponyboy leaned into the touch, but the action between them was too intimate to do in front of other people.

“Back off, will you?” Dally hissed and stood between the two, successfully prying them apart. It was almost protective of him which caused Pony to chuckle. Although he was an aloof guy, he still acted like a protective older brother. Dally raised an eyebrow at his giggling. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” Ponyboy chuckled. “It’s just that I’m so grateful to all of you.”

“You’re so brave,” Johnny said. “It’s not easy to talk about this. So, thank you for trusting us with this. Are you planning on telling the others?”

“I want to,” Ponyboy responded but didn’t sound very certain. “It just… what if they react badly?”

“By now, you have to know how much they love you, right?” Dally said. His brothers loved him a lot and even Two-Bit saw him as his kid brother. He assumed Steve did too in his own way.

He went to nod but felt like what he said was slightly off. It took a full second to identify what that was. “I never thought I would ever hear you say the word love.”

Both Johnny and Dally looked at him incredulously while Castor burst out in laughter. He shut up when Dally shot him a did-you-influence-this look. The greaser rubbed his temples. After Castor settled down, Ponyboy asked, “Do you think I have to tell them? I feel like I do now.”

Dally answered, “You don’t owe them anything. You don’t have to tell them nothing if you don’t want to.”

And that was something he was going to remember.

There wasn’t much talking after that. Exhaustion hit like a train. When the two ghosts left for the night, Ponyboy found himself unable to fall asleep despite the drowsiness. He tried for several minutes but whenever his eyes closed, the back of his eyelids replicated traumatizing memories. He thought after everything that had transpired, he would have passed out instantly. His limbs couldn’t even twitch and his eyes felt like they were going to retreat into his skull, yet his body was grasping onto whatever it could to stay awake.

The room was chilly and it felt empty without Soda there next to him. He reached out to where his brother would have laid had they been in this particular room but the spot was cold. It had been that way for a long time.

A hand wrapped around his own, sending warmth up his arm. Castor whispered, “I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Ponyboy sleepily muttered. “Can you talk? It can be about anything. It’ll help me sleep.”

Castor nodded. “We should probably talk about what I heard back there. So… you like me?”

Ponyboy went rigid. Of course, it had to be that. “Can we talk about something else?”

“After this, we can. So…?”

Ponyboy’s mouth was dry and he wished that he had brought in a glass of water before he tucked himself in. He took a deep breath. Well, Castor already knew his answer. “I do.”

“Are you sure that you like me?” Castor’s eyes were hesitant and it almost made Ponyboy sit up to state it as a fact.

“I do.”

“Even if I’m a ghost?”

“Should that matter?”

“No. No,” Castor rambled. “It’s just… with me, you won’t be able to experience a relationship to its fullest. I’m dead. I don’t have a tangible body. People can’t see me. Wouldn’t it be better to like someone more solid? Someone who won’t be moving on? Someone with a pulse?”

Ponyboy had thought of that, but no matter what, it didn’t change his view. He liked Castor and he didn’t think he would be able to feel the same way with another person. “I like you, Castor.”

He looked up from his pillow and saw that the ghost was blushing. He continued, “I don’t want to like someone like this unless it’s you.”

“Ah,” Castor stuttered. “I… I see.”

The younger boy yawned. Finally, sleep was starting to pull him under. This time, he tried his best to stay awake. Just one more minute. That was all he needed. “What about you?”

“I…” Castor bit his bottom lip and looked away. “You said you wanted to talk about something to help you sleep. Um… Have you ever seen a raccoon wash its food?”

Castor changed topics. Ponyboy felt himself pouting but didn’t push further. He needed more time and Ponyboy was willing to wait one year, two years, and even a decade for his answer. “I’ve only ever seen them in dumpsters.”

“Well, they like to dunk their food into water and it looks like they’re washing it.”

“Do they like hygiene?” Strange for wildlife.

“I think I learned somewhere that it helped them identify their food. I could be wrong about that. Anyway, do you ever think about what would happen if you give them food that dissolves? If you give them cotton candy it would disappear in their hands before they could enjoy it. Isn’t that fun to think about?”

Ponyboy felt his eyelids droop. He struggled to stay awake. “That kind of just makes me sad. Give me something else; something that’ll make me happy.”

But sleep was sometimes cruel and Ponyboy found himself drifting off. The last thing he heard was Castor whispering, “You’re one special guy to me. I like you too…”

Despite everything that happened that night, Ponyboy fell asleep with a small smile on his face.

Chapter 25: Ponyboy's Guide to Strangulation

Chapter Text

That night, Ponyboy was plagued with nightmares that he wasn’t able to recall. He just remembered waking up to Castor’s worried eyes as he leaned over him. The ghost was running his fingers through his hair to comfort him. And although he couldn’t remember anything from his dream, he found it difficult to fall back asleep. So, he ended up staying awake for the remainder of the night. It was fine though. There were only a couple of hours until sunrise and he needed air anyway.

He got up from bed and carefully wrapped a blanket around his form before he headed outside and plopped himself down on the porch. The two of them stayed silent. None of them spoke about the conversation they had before. They just listened to the roar of the rainstorm.

Darry was the one who found him that morning. He ushered him inside and scolded him for sitting outside during the night and then rebuked him again for not wearing warm clothing. After all, if you were going to do something stupid, at least be smart about it.

Ponyboy had hoped that the rain would have stopped by the time he had to go to school, but Mother Nature must had some vendetta that year. He flipped his hood on after he struggled to slip on his shoes. They had hardly dried at all during the night. Already, he could feel his socks become soaked and he juggled between two choices: running to school or if he should just bite the bullet and carry an umbrella. Castor joked about shielding him from the rain but Ponyboy knew better now. Ghosts made terrible umbrellas.

He opened the door and sighed. The streets were flooded. Leaves plugged the drains which had caused the water level to rise a few inches. He guessed it wouldn’t have mattered if his shoes were dry anyway. Maybe it was time to invest in some rain boots. But then again, those were even more embarrassing than an umbrella. He wouldn’t hear the end of it if he was caught wearing them.

He wished that someone from the gang could take him, but Darry had already left for work. He had left earlier than usual because he knew he had to dive slower that day. Soda and Steve’s shift started later, but Ponyboy didn’t feel like asking them himself. He knew that Soda would have done it without question but Steve would have complained on and on. Two-Bit was home currently and was therefore unavailable to ask. So he had to trek it and, at that point, he might as well get there as dry as possible.

Carrying an umbrella, he left for school.

He was excited about today’s agenda in English class. Castor, however, was not as stoked as he was, knowing that he had to sit through the entire lecture as well.

“I don’t wanna go,” Castor whined when they entered the school. “Why can’t you just fill me in on the main points later?”

“The class isn’t even an hour long,” Ponyboy reasoned. He didn’t want Castor to leave him alone.

“Almost an hour of listening to your class debate about the hidden meanings in books. I’ll fall asleep if I have to listen to you guys figure out what the symbolism of a rock is!”

“You can’t fall asleep. You’re a ghost.”

“You get my point!”

“Come on. Let’s go.” Ponyboy rolled his eyes. He hooked the umbrella to Castor’s throat and started to drag him to the classroom. The ghost struggled and screamed about how he was being abducted, making it much harder for Ponyboy to move. If what he was doing bothered Castor, he wouldn’t have let him do this in the first place.

The younger boy took large steps, resting the umbrella on his shoulder as he pulled. To other people, it looked like he was dragging an invisible weight–like he was some mime. At one point, he passed by Curly who gave him a weird look (similar to everyone else) and Ponyboy stated before he walked away, “Don’t worry about it.”

He trudged along, getting more embarrassed by the second. He groaned, “Come on, Castor! Stop struggling. People are looking!”

Castor let the hook pass through his neck, almost successfully causing the poor boy to fall forward. Luckily, he managed to catch himself before that could happen. The ghost huffed, “Fine, I’ll go, but only because I like you so much.”

Ponyboy flushed. Great, now he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate in class.

For the most part, his day was pretty normal but then lunchtime came and things turned for the worse. It started when he almost ran into Peter in the bathroom–his first suspect (and also the guy he almost forgot about). The towering ghost was still behind him, yet Ponyboy wasn’t scared of it anymore. He had seen something far more horrifying. But he was nervous enough when it turned to look at him, causing him to duck into a stall before Peter could notice him. This was a familiar experience, but it was slightly different this time.

Castor was in the stall with him, and while it wasn’t very large, there was still enough room for two people to stand next to each other relatively comfortably. However, for whatever reason, Castor stood right in front of him, trapping him against the stall’s wall. His hands were planted next to his ears and his sandalwood scent made Pony’s head spin.

“Don’t look up,” Castor whispered. The large ghost must have been looking at him but Ponyboy didn’t care anymore. He found himself unable to look away from Castor and relished in how close he was to him. His arms snaked around the ghost’s neck, shocking Castor with his bold action. He pulled them closer together, nestling his forehead into the crook of the other’s neck.

Castor didn’t dare move. Instead, he made sure to solidify as much as possible to make this experience feel more real.

Ponyboy had never figured out who the ghost was that was attached to Peter. It was so protective over him like a parent to their child. Maybe it was a diseased loved one. That thought made the ghost seem less scary because everything that it did was only to protect him.

Soon enough, the bathroom was cleared out and the two of them separated but kept their hands intertwined, with or without noticing it. When he left the bathroom himself, he found Two-Bit. Or, to be more accurate, Two-Bit found him. The greaser greeted the other cheerfully.

“Want to go to the DX?” Two-Bit asked as if he didn’t know the answer and soon enough they were on the way there. They wouldn’t be able to stay too long, but they would have enough time to have a small snack.

“Hey, Pony,” Soda greeted when they entered while Steve gave them a nod. Ponyboy chirped a greeting back, instantly heading over to his brother. He was tossed a Pepsi and a bag of chips. “Perfect timing.”

“What’s going on?” Ponyboy asked curiously.

“Steve and I are having a bet on if there are ghosts in here. I swear this place is haunted.”

“It’s not haunted,” Steve argued, crossing his arms.

“Then how do you explain the flickering lights?”

“This building is a piece of crap. Doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”

Soda huffed, “We’ll leave that to Pony to decide.”

They both looked at him eagerly. Ponyboy, meanwhile, didn’t even need to turn around to know that there were ghosts there. There were a few inside that were acting like customers–browsing the magazine rack, checking out the candy selection, and even trying to get Soda’s attention to fill his tank. Ponyboy waited until that particular ghost left before he hummed out an answer, “There are a few here.”

“Hah! I told you,” Soda laughed and punched Steve in the arm.

Steve rolled his eyes and slammed a dollar down on the counter. He mumbled, “Whatever.”

With a victorious grin, Soda stuffed the money in his pocket. This happened right when the door opened and a pretty woman walked in, requesting help with her car that had stalled nearby. Steve left while Two-Bit trailed right behind because there was a chance that he “could get a pretty broad’s phone number.”

Soda continued to keep him company until Steve shouted that he needed help. That left Ponyboy alone with Castor. The younger boy slumped on the counter with a sigh and rested his temple on the cool wood. Maybe he should have gone out too. It must have been hard to move the car in this weather condition.

There was a tap on his nose, causing his head to shift up. Castor warmly smiled at him before he bent down and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Ponyboy twitched and leaned into it, following the lips until he fully stood again.

When Castor pulled away with half-lidded eyes, he was met with Ponyboy’s flushed face. Oh boy, did he love to figure out different ways to get that color from him.

“What was that for?” Ponyboy blubbered, touching his lips.

“Just wanted to do that,” Castor teased, sticking out his tongue. “Do you not want me to?”

Ponyboy bashfully tapped his fingers on the counter. “I liked it…”

“You liked what?” Castor smiled even larger.

“The kiss…”

The ghost leaned closer. “You gotta speak louder than that.”

“I want you to kiss me!” Ponyboy declared, volume much higher yet still not loud enough to be a yell. He instantly quieted himself down. “I like it when we kiss. I like you, Castor.”

“And I like you.”

Those familiar butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Those were words that he hadn’t heard much, yet didn’t think he would ever hear enough. His cheeks were starting to hurt from how hard he was smiling. This time, Ponyboy leaned closer teasingly. “You gotta speak louder than that.”

Castor let out an amused breath. He grabbed Pony’s chin. “Is this loud enough?”

The door burst open before they could kiss again and a soaked Soda came rushing in while panting.

“Something wrong?” Ponyboy asked worriedly, pushing himself away from the ghost.

Soda shook his head, “No. It’s fine. I just came to tell you that it might take a bit of time. We’re still trying to get the car to the garage.”

“Do you want help?”

“We’re good. Just stay here, okay?” Soda squeezed out water from his shirt. “If someone comes in, can you tell them that we’ll be back soon?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Once again, Soda left and Ponyboy covered his face. If he didn’t react fast enough, Soda would have caught him kissing Castor. The thought of kissing in front of family members was embarrassing enough, but making out with a ghost went beyond that since they would have only seen him and not the other. It would have looked like he was kissing the air. He whined at the image and Castor chuckled at his torment.

The door opened and a customer came in, but Ponyboy hardly paid him any notice. He went back to eating his chips while he waited for Soda and the others to return.

“I’m ready to check out,” someone eventually said behind him. Ponyboy turned around. He hadn’t noticed that the customer had gotten so close to him. After looking at Castor, it seemed like he hadn’t noticed as well.

“Oh, um, someone will be up here to help you soon,” Ponyboy informed. It wasn’t the first time he had to say this to someone, but it was still awkward.

The guy, who was an older fellow with sunken eyes, sighed. He held up the item he was going to buy, a hank of thin rope. “Ah, well, I guess I can wait.”

Ponyboy pressed his lips into a thin line and was about to turn around again when the man spoke again, “I was going to buy this for my kids.”

“Rope, sir?” That wasn’t weird at all. Was this guy some pedophile or human trafficker or something?

“I’m building a rope swing for them.” Oh. Maybe not.

“I’m sure they’ll love it.” Now that he thought about it, wasn’t the rope too thin for a swing? Maybe his kids were young.

“Not as much as me. This is some good rope, so I’m happy.” Why was this guy still trying to talk to him? It was friendly and all and he was sure he probably wanted to pass the time, but this was getting weird. “It holds knots well. Want to see?”

“Uh… Sure?”

“Red flag. Red flag!” Castor hissed.

“Hold out your hands,” the man persuaded.

“Why?” Ponyboy cautiously asked as he backed up, but there wasn’t anywhere to go with the counter in his way. It pressed into his lower back. In a way, it grounded him.

“To show you. I can even show you a magic trick to get out.” The guy suddenly grabbed his wrists before he could reject him. Ponyboy yelped in protest. He tried to pull his arms away, but this guy had a strong grip and soon his wrists were tied together. There was even a nice bow on the top. “Try getting out.”

Ponyboy tried but couldn’t. He laughed nervously. “What’s the magic trick to get out?”

He held out his arms for the man to take the rope off but the guy just stared at him with glassy eyes. He breathed heavily, spreading the overwhelming scent of cinnamon across Ponyboy’s face. Dread started to seep in. This scent, although he was sure it was nothing, was something he was never going to experience the same way again. He tried to assure himself that some people liked cinnamon but it wasn’t helping him calm down.

But then he heard it, “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”

Ponyboy’s body went rigid. No way. He looked up to fully examine who was in front of him. A tall, unfamiliar man with graying hair and a five o’clock shadow. Not Mr. Flannigan. His teacher died. But if there was one thing he learned after he acquired his medium abilities, it was that death didn’t mean the end. This was Mr. Flannigan (or whatever his name actually was) but with a different face; a possessed body.

His mouth became dry as he stuttered, “How?”

The smile on Mr. Flannigan’s face grew, “It seems like you already know the answer. But in any case, I also know that you know why I’m here.”

“sh*t, Ponyboy, get out of here,” Castor hissed and Mr. Flannigan whirled to him, scowling.

“You stay out of it. Ponyboy is going to get his treatment soon.”

“I think I’m good,” Ponyboy objected. “I just saw a doctor, so no treatment is needed here.”

Mr. Flannigan grabbed the rope around his wrists. “Only I will be able to save you. When you turned me in, I felt so hurt. It felt like you stabbed me in the back. Again and again, you hurt me.”

“Get away from him,” Castor yelled as he pushed down a nearby shelf so that it would fall on him, but with how they were angled, it forced Ponyboy to take a few steps away from the door and now there was an obstacle in the way. He took more steps away as he tugged at the rope. The knot only tightened around his wrists, cutting off his blood circulation.

The shelf started to move and Ponyboy found himself cursing under his breath.

“You gotta run,” Castor said and Ponyboy knew that. He hurdled over the obstacle when a hand shot out from under it and grabbed onto his ankle, causing him to fall to the ground at a fast speed. His head slammed against the tile exactly where Mr. Flannigan injured him before. His vision went black for several worrisome seconds. His leg, which didn’t quite make it over the shelf, slammed into it, causing intense pain to shoot up his body. He yelped loudly as he tried his best to ignore the ringing in his ears.

Hands tried to pull him up but he had a difficult time getting any balance to stand. His vision was swimming, but he had to keep moving. The only thought that was keeping him conscious was that if he didn’t escape, he was going to die.

He pressed his palms onto the floor, but it wasn’t like he could get up. His ankle was still being held. He tried to crawl, but with his wrists tied together, it was more like a pathetic hobble.

“Get up,” Castor urged.

“My ankle,” Ponyboy slurred. He looked back and saw that Mr. Flannigan was almost out from under the shelf now. He flashed that crooked smile at him causing another jolt of panic through him. With all of his might, he kicked his leg back and slammed the bottom of his foot in the killer’s face. Miraculously, Mr. Flannigan’s grip loosened just enough for him to rip his leg away.

Castor helped him up, supporting his weight as best as they could as they approached the door. His leg was screaming at him and he hoped that he hadn’t pulled a muscle. He couldn’t worry too much about that. They didn’t have much time. Mr. Flanningan would be on them in a few seconds at most.

“Soda!” Ponyboy screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Betraying me again, Ponyboy?” Mr. Flannigan growled.

“Screw you! What betrayal?” He yelled out for Soda again and before he knew it, the door slammed open.

“Ponyboy?” Soda yelled with Two-Bit and Steve behind him. They quickly assessed the situation, face instantly morphing from worry to anger.

“The killer. That’s him,” Ponyboy quickly briefed, blinking heavily to get the stars out of his vision.

“But it doesn’t look like him,” Two-Bit noticed.

“He possessed that body.”

That was enough of an explanation for them. They stood between Ponyboy and Mr. Flanngian, and, usually, that would have been enough to make a group of Socs nervous, but there was no fear in the killer’s eyes.

Mr. Flannigan snorted in amusem*nt, “Do you think humans like yourself can harm me? I am beyond all of you.”

“Stop acting like you’re some f*cking god,” Steve growled, grabbing a broom and slamming it so hard on Mr. Flannigan’s head that it would have given an average person a concussion. The murderer fell to his knees with a snarl, brushing away the chips from the now-broken broom.

“I am the hand of God! I am judgment itself!”

“Get moving,” someone said in front of Ponyboy. It was Dally with Johnny next to him. Maybe the ruckus called them over, but, in any case, Pony was glad to see them.

“But the others,” Ponyboy tried to argue.

“That psycho is after you, isn’t he? So get going.”

Ponyboy looked hesitant, but this was his safest option for survival. Besides, he was fairly certain that Mr. Flannigan wouldn’t kill any of them. It would have been against his motive. Dally was right. He was after him and that was final for him.

With a nod, Castor and him started to head back out. He wanted to stay and help the others because he didn’t want them to get hurt, but at that point, he was only going to be a burden to them. But where would he go?

Before the door closed behind him, he saw that Dally managed to stab a switchblade into Mr. Flannigan’s side. He didn’t have any time to celebrate though.

“Get out of my way!” Mr. Flannigan screamed before a force hit Ponyboy’s back that was almost strong enough to knock him over. There were yells inside the DX Station, the only thing that ensured him that the gang was okay.

Where to go?

His eyes fell upon the car. He could take it and escape, but Ponyboy had only attempted to drive once and he had almost run into a tree during it. And if he did take it, he would be stealing the vehicle. But should he care at the moment? Someone was trying to murder him.

He had to run, but he only took a few more steps away from the gas station when he stopped again.

Run? He was always running away. Mr. Flannigan was always going to go after him. He didn’t want to run forever. Even if it was risky, there was another path he could take here.

“Why’d you stop?” Castor asked, giving him a pull forward but Ponyboy planted his feet on the ground. “We need to keep running.”

“You’re not going to like this,” Ponyboy said. “I don’t want to run anymore.”

Castor looked at him like he had grown another head. “Are you crazy? He’s trying to kill you.”

“That’s exactly why.”

“That seems pretty backward to me.”

“If I run, then I will have to keep running. Mr. Flannigan won’t stop until I’m dead and I don’t want to live my life looking over my shoulder.”

With a sigh, Castor ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Let’s say you confront him, what is your plan? If your gang can’t stop him, how can you?”

Good question. No attempt has worked so far. Power-wise, he had no chance. As much as he hated to admit it, he would be snuffed out in an instant if he went fist versus fist. If he wanted to win, he was going to have to trick him.

Again, his eyes landed on the car. He had a crazy idea.

“Can you distract that lady for a moment?” Ponyboy asked. Castor begrudgingly nodded. He couldn’t believe he was going along with it.

The woman was standing under the gas station’s canopy impatiently while her vehicle sat in the rain. Ponyboy waited until Castor got her to turn around to move. He snuck to the other side of the vehicle and slipped into the back. Luckily, it was open. He sat down on the floor and tried to hide his body from view.

Castor soon joined him and Ponyboy quickly told him to hide and be quiet.

“Is this your plan?” he asked.

Ponyboy didn’t respond. If he planned this right, Mr. Flannigan was going to come out of the DX Station soon. He wasn’t going to see him immediately and would assume that he ran away on foot. He was going to steal this car since it was the only one visibly nearby. He wasn’t going to expect that Ponyboy was right behind him and then… then he had to figure something out.

And just like he expected, Mr. Flannigan exited the DX Station, looking around wildly. The gang wasn’t immediately behind him, which caused a pit to form in Pony’s stomach. He prayed they weren’t harmed. He desperately wanted to check on them, but he knew that he couldn’t. Not at this moment.

Mr. Flannigan cursed as he rushed to the vehicle with the blade still stuck in his side, ignoring the wail that exited the woman’s mouth. Ponyboy ducked down further when he opened the front door.

The key was still sitting in the ignition. Mr. Flannigan turned it, hearing the car rumble to life before sputtering out. He tried again and again, but the vehicle kept sputtering out. Ponyboy then remembered that the vehicle had stalled and Steve hadn’t had the chance to look at it yet. He clenched his jaw, fearing that his plan had been to waste.

But then, miraculously, the car suddenly rumbled to life and Mr. Flannigan grumbled in relief. Fists slammed into the side of the vehicle, causing Ponyboy to jump. The gang had finally caught up (with barely a scratch on them, much to his relief) and was trying to break open the window. When they saw Ponyboy in the backseat, they started to yell. Two-Bit grabbed a nearby brick and smashed it into the back window. Glass rained down on him, but none of them had a chance to reach inside.

The vehicle jolted forward, almost hydroplaning right from the get-go. Mr. Flannigan sped off in the direction of his house.

“Get back here!” Soda screamed at the top of his lungs.

Ponyboy tugged on the rope again. If he could grab that blade, then he could cut this off and threaten Mr. Flannigan with it. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to kill him since the body he took was probably already dead. But like removing a parasite, he could make the host uninhabitable. Then after that, it was up to Castor.

But how was he going to make the body uninhabitable? That was when another idea popped up in his head.

Mr. Flannigan drove like mad through the flooded streets. The vehicle swerved uncontrollably, swinging the back around like an amusem*nt park ride. Ponyboy’s body was thrown around and it was a wonder how he hadn’t been caught yet.

After struggling to get up, Ponyboy’s eyes caught with Mr. Flannigan’s through the rearview mirror. They widened in surprise, but Pony didn’t let him process his sudden appearance further. He looped his arms over Mr. Flannigan’s head, pressing the rope into his jugular and pulling back. He didn’t know if it was going to work. He didn’t know if possessed people breathed. Guess he was going to have to find out the hard way.

It must have worked since Mr. Flannigan let out a gasp. But here was the issue that Ponyboy forgot to calculate. They were in a fast-moving vehicle on a hazardous road. As soon as the rope tightened around his neck. Mr. Flannigan hit the gas. He struggled to maintain control of the vehicle. Ponyboy would have been thrown off instantly if he hadn’t placed his knee on the seat.

The back of the vehicle whipped to the side again, and Ponyboy had a quick glance at Steve’s vehicle that was behind them before Mr. Flannigan lost control. Before Ponyboy knew what was happening, the vehicle spun out at a dizzying speed. Ponyboy held onto dear life while Castor tried to correct the vehicle. Then there was a sickening crash before everything went dark.

Chapter 26: Seven, Six, Five, Four

Chapter Text

Sometimes Ponyboy wondered how he was still alive. Seriously.

Even after running into a burning church, he was buried alive, hunted by a literal murderer, had his head slammed into metal, targeted by a demon, chased by the same murderer again, and now he had just been in a vehicular accident. He managed to survive all of those. What was his life?

If you’re going to do something dumb, at least be smart about it. He should have taken that message into account before pulling the stunt.

He cracked open his eyes. His head spun and his lungs filled with smoke. The image around him was hard to comprehend. The vehicle was completely totaled. The windows were all broken but they hadn’t shattered, making it hard to see the damage the accident had caused. But judging by how parts of it were caved in, he could only assume the worst. He wondered if this was what his parents saw before they died. Was it slow or were they dead in an instant?

Ponyboy must have been out for only a minute or two since he could hear the gang outside and Mr. Flannigan was still crushed between the caved roof and his seat. From what he could tell, they weren’t upside down. So for the roof to be in this condition meant that they had flipped a few times. Pony’s body moved to the side a couple of inches and he realized that Castor was trying to get him out of there.

His limbs weren’t cooperating and his ears were ringing. Every small movement he tried, sent a flaring pain throughout his body. Broken glass was stuck in his skin like he was some human pin cushion. The more he was dragged, the deeper they cut.

Suddenly, more hands were on him and he was yanked out of the vehicle. Soda’s arms were wrapped around him in an instant, which was comforting and all, but he couldn’t help but wonder when they had managed to open a hole large enough for him to escape out of.

“Thank god you’re okay,” Soda cried, voice sounding like he was underwater.

“Gotta get further away… might explode…” Steve said and they started to move again. Ponyboy was only able to catch those few words. What was going to explode?

“Mr. Flannigan… moving,” Two-Bit said and Ponyboy felt everything coming back to him in an instant. He gasped, blinking the cloudiness out of his eyes.

“Where is he?” he shouted, wincing when he twisted his neck.

“Ponyboy, are you okay?” Johnny asked him, ignoring his question. His well-being was more important to confirm.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where’s Mr. Flannigan?”

“You’re not fine. You’re pumped with adrenaline,” Dally told him. Ponyboy just wanted someone to answer his damn question. “You look like hell.”

“Still in the vehicle, unconscious,” Soda informed. He then pulled him back and scolded him in a tone that Ponyboy had rarely gotten to hear. It was scarier than when Darry was hollering at him. “What were you thinking getting in that car?”

Ponyboy flinched, “I just thought…”

“Thought? You weren’t thinking. He’s a murderer. Did you think you could take him down by yourself? Were you trying to die?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Pony hung his head low and shook it. “No.”

“You scared me, Ponyboy. I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t lose anyone else, especially not like this. If you died in a car like Mom and Dad, I wouldn’t know what to do!”

“I’m sorry.” Not enough apologies would make up for this. Vehicular accidents were a touchy subject for the Curtis brothers, and the fact that he pulled such a stunt was unforgivable. He should have thought about this when he came up with his plan. “I just wasn’t thinking.”

The shaky hands on his arms tightened as Soda sniffled. Ponyboy hated seeing him cry. He swore to himself that he would never cause him to cry again. “Don’t do it again. Please, promise me that.”

Ponyboy did and Soda pulled him back in a hug, squeezing so tightly that arms were trapped at his sides. A chin rested atop his head but it wasn’t his brother’s. He tilted his head up to look at Castor. The ghost was pouting and avoiding eye contact with him. He must have also scared him.

“I’m sorry for scaring you too,” Ponyboy whispered. Castor only grumbled incomprehensible words.

Movement caught all of their eyes. Mr. Flannigan pulled himself out of the vehicle, looking even worse than Pony did somehow. His face was covered in blood and his nose was broken sideways. He raised a crooked hand and, suddenly, Ponyboy was being dragged away from everyone by an invisible force until he was at Mr. Flannigan's feet. The killer grabbed him by the hair, pulling him across the asphalt toward and into the building the car had crashed into: an antique shop.

With tears stinging his eyes, Ponyboy tried to rip the grip off of him. The gang ran after him, shouting his name. However, before they could get to him, the vehicle burst into flames, temporarily stopping them. Once they were inside, Mr. Flannigan threw him against a shelf, knocking the wind out of him. He hardly had enough time to process anything before a kick landed on his stomach.

“Look at all the trouble you caused,” Mr. Flannigan growled. “You’re the biggest sinner of them all. I’m not sure if there’s any saving you.”

He was going to die. He was going to die!

“You’re weak, Ponyboy,” Mr. Flannigan spat, enjoying the sight of his victim’s pain. “Let me put you out of your misery and give you ascension.”

A kick to his head made everything go dark for a second and the taste of iron touched his tongue.

Mr. Flannigan continued, “I was supposed to wash your sins away–inside and outside–but now I might as well do it with your blood.”

It hurts.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Ponyboy clawed at the ground to get away, feeling Mr. Flannigan’s amused laugh in his soul. It made him nauseous.

“I got to hand it to you. You fought more than anyone else,” Mr. Flannigan tutted as he grabbed him by the hair again and lifted him but not high enough to stand on his feet. Ponyboy’s hands uselessly tried to relieve his pain. “But you also made me angrier than anyone else. When I’m done with you, I can move on to my next project.”

“You can’t judge people the way you do,” Ponyboy gasped out, coughing up blood. His head felt dizzy and he knew that he was only holding onto consciousness by a string. Behind his former teacher, he could see the gang and Castor. Castor’s eyes locked with his and an unspoken agreement passed between them.

Mr. Flannigan clenched his jaw. “On the contrary, it is I who was chosen for this role.”

“Yeah? By who?”

“By God, of course.”

A small, empty smile lifted Pony’s lips. “I’ll show you God.”

He kicked, nailing the other in the nether regions with as much strength as he could muster. The effect was instant. Mr. Flannigan’s face scrunched up as his hair was let go. Even possessed bodies must be subjected to this. He didn’t want to pull this move, but Ponyboy had to do what he had to do.

As soon as he was dropped, he started to fall back to the ground. Mr. Flannigan was curled forward, making it the perfect time. Sandalwood flooded his nose as his body went rigid and limp.

The killer quickly recovered. He had expected Pony to have run off again but was mildly shocked when the boy just stayed in his spot, sitting there with his head hung low. He laughed and grabbed Ponyboy by the collar of his shirt. “All that and you didn’t even leave? How useless are you?”

But while he expected Ponyboy to be nearly passed out, he wasn’t expecting a hand to wrap around his wrist that was as strong as iron. Ponyboy lifted his head, but his eyes weren’t the same. There had always been an innocent film that covered the boy’s eyes and whenever someone looked deeper into them, they could see someone who had seen too much. But these eyes were different. They were more brash and mischievous–a stranger yet not.

“Who are you?” Mr. Flannigan demanded. Those words stopped the gang short. They had finally gotten past the flaming vehicle. Man, it took them forever to get there. They were confused. What did he mean? “You’re not him.”

“I think you know who I am,” he answered. His voice was different too. The pitch was the same but the tone wasn’t his. The grip on the collar tightened and, in response, the fingers that pressed into his wrist started to dig into it painfully. “I’m hurt, Mr. Flannigan. I thought you would have instantly recognized me. You did take my life. Where’s the respect for the dead?”

Mr. Flannigan’s breath hitched in realization. “Castor…”

The grin on the boy’s face confirmed his identity.

“You!” Mr. Flannigan growled, nose curling like an aggressive dog.

“You literally addressed me earlier today. Don’t act so surprised to see me,” Castor huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Do you think you can change anything just by possessing that body?”

Castor tilted his head. “I thought I could take a stab at it.”

He grabbed the knife that was still sticking out of Mr. Flannigan’s side and ripped it out of his body. Instantly, blood started to gush out of the wound and spread across his shirt. Before he could react, Castor stabbed it into the man’s wrist, prying the hands off of him. When he let go, Castor took quick steps backward and closer to the safety of the gang.

They were staring at him incredulously. Two-Bit asked, “Was that a pun?”

Soda didn’t let Castor answer that and instead asked, “Are you Castor?”

The ghost smiled sheepishly, “This wasn’t the way I wanted to officially meet you all.”

“This is so weird,” Steve said.

“It’s not the first time you’ve seen me possessing him, but I guess this is the first time you know it’s me.”

“Hey, it’s not over yet,” Johnny warned, pointing to the murderer.

“Wouldn’t that be nice if it was though?” Castor gripped the knife tightly when Dally sighed and opened his hands.

“Give me that,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re still in Ponyboy’s body. Don’t go waving a knife around unless you plan to use it properly. I doubt he would want to hurt someone.”

Castor handed him the blade with a nod, hiding his surprise at how much Dally had improved with holding objects.

“Do you think a blade is going to do anything to me?” Mr. Flannigan asked, blood dribbling out of his mouth and sticking between his teeth. He looked at all of them. “And after I take care of Ponyboy here, I think I found who my next clients are.”

Clients. How laughable. Two-Bit asked, “What’s the plan?”

Castor took a deep breath. Earlier, he didn’t know what Ponyboy had in mind, but now that he was in his body–their souls touching–it was like all of his thoughts were on full display and maybe it was the same the other way around. He understood now. Castor could feel Ponyboy shift within him, like a flutter of butterflies in his stomach and heart. He placed a hand over his chest.

Their souls gently encompassed each other like Yin and Yang. If Castor could reach out and press a finger on the surface of a gentle creek and let the water brush around it almost ticklishly, that was how he pictured Ponyboy’s soul was like–moving yet soothing. And, after seeing Ponyboy’s thoughts, he could tell that he, in return, pictured his soul as a water strider, gliding over the stream seamlessly. Castor didn’t complain that Pony compared his soul to a bug. Although, he probably was going to tease him about it later.

At that moment, they shared a mind, body, and soul, and because of that, he knew what to do.

“We’ll make his body uninhabitable,” he said. “We need to evict his soul.”

“What happens after that? Wouldn’t he want to jump to a new body?” Steve asked. “What if he jumps into one of us?”

“From my experience, he wouldn’t be able to do that. You would either have to let him in or be unable to hold a mental guard.”

“But how do we fight a ghost once it leaves?”

“You don’t, but Johnny, Dally, and I can… I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m not an expert on ghost sh*t. This is new to me too, but I’ll know we’ll be on the same level that way.”

“So we just attack him?” Soda wanted to clarify. Castor nodded. Two-Bit let out a hearty laugh.

“Let’s get him!” he boomed, pushing all of them forward. Attacking in a group was more comforting than doing it alone. Mr. Flannigan was strong, but even he couldn’t beat all of their strengths together. The gang was shouting instructions at each other, telling one another to do this or do that. They pushed him to the ground and, with all of their combined weight, held him there.

Mr. Flannigan thrashed under them, almost throwing them all off. It was a struggle to stay on. If only Darry was there. He was missing a lot. At one point, one of his arms broke free from under Soda’s weight and Johnny quickly pounced on it before he could grab onto any of them.

They were barely holding him down and they all knew that they weren’t going to be able to do this for a long time. Even when Dally grabbed Mr. Flannigan’s hands and forcefully brought them together just to stab the blade through them and into the ground.

“Hold on!” Castor yelled, but they didn’t need to do it for much longer. Mr. Flannigan shuddered under them and what went from him trying to get the upper hand turned to him trying to flee in an instant.

“Let me go!” Mr. Flanngian wailed, eyes growing wide and pupils shrinking. “Let me go now!”

He tried to rip his hand away from the blade but it only cut him deeper. At first, none of them knew why he switched it up so quickly, but then he continued, “Don’t let him get close to me!”

All of them turned to look at what he was looking at but, only three of them were able to see what it was. A large wispy ghost in a trench coat had entered the building. It held a sickle that sent a tremor through Castor. It took a second for him to realize that this was Ponyboy’s reaction and not his own. He didn’t recognize this ghost, but it seemed like Pony did.

It approached them and Mr. Flannigan became almost crazy trying to get away. He wailed, “No! Get away from me!”

“What’s going on, Pony… I mean, Castor?” Two-Bit asked.

“There’s a ghost here.” But even when he said that it felt like this supposed ghost hadn’t been a living being before. Like the demon in the basem*nt, it was more of an entity. “He’s scared of it.”

“How can a ghost be scared of another ghost?” Steve asked but Castor couldn’t answer him.

“I don’t like it…” Johnny muttered nervously.

The closer it got, the more Mr. Flannigan thrashed and screamed. Before any of them knew it, the entity was standing right in front of them. It towered menacingly over them. Castor gulped. Slowly, it rose the sickle; those few seconds felt like an eternity. His heart was beating in his throat. Then the sickle came down and Dally forcefully yanked him away. The blade missed him by a measly inch before it sunk into Mr. Flannigan’s skull. He screeched as the blade stuck to his soul like glue.

“I FOUND YOU,” the entity said as it dragged the soul out of the body. For the first time, Castor got a good look at the spirit of Mr. Flannigan. He was a long and bony figure whose skin hung off his skeleton like drapery. His stomach was caved in which caused his ribs to protrude and his hip bones to be as sharp as knives. His eyes were large, round, and glowing white just like the basem*nt demon. For everything that he had done, it was almost ironic how weak he looked now that he was exposed.

When he was fully extracted from the body, he still thrashed and screamed, trying his best to go back. The entity opened a large burlap bag that was like an infinite void. It spewed out a dark mist that wrapped around Mr. Flannigan like shackles. Screams were coming from inside the bag. Most likely from other trapped spirits.

“No! No! Let me go!” he screamed. “You can’t take me! I still have a job to do!”

He continued to wail until his soul was stuffed into the bag. The body went limp under them, no longer having a spirit possessing it. Mold spread across its bloating body like wildfire. The gang quickly let go as if the body had burned them. They watched in disgust as it went through all of the stages of decomposition in a matter of seconds. What was once a normal-looking person was now a pile of fleshy mush with a skeleton.

Was that it? Was it over just like that? Somehow, it didn’t seem real.

“What happened to him?” Soda asked, voice trembling.

Castor didn’t have time to answer him. The entity hadn’t turned away once its job was done. Instead, it rose the sickle again and said, “FOUND ANOTHER ONE.”

Was it going after all ghosts or those that were possessing people? It paid no mind to Johnny and Dally. Instead, it focused entirely on him. If that entity were to hit him, what would happen to Ponyboy? He felt his blood run cold. There was only one soul in the other body, while there were two in Ponyboy’s. Would both of them get extracted or would only him? Even though Castor would rather not find out, he didn’t want anything to happen to his companion.

He had to get out of his body, but when he tried, he struggled to do so and ultimately failed. He cursed to himself.

“Get out of his body, man,” Dally yelled after he came to the same conclusion as him, and Castor kept trying to but it wasn’t working. How did he leave the body the first time?

“I’m trying,” Castor yelled, ignoring the gang that was trying to figure out what was going on. sh*t!

It was too late.

He was going to…

Ponyboy was going to…

Castor clenched his jaw and braced himself for impact.

Suddenly, he felt a pain like no other, causing a scream to rip through his throat. If his soul was one giant bandage that was being ripped off, it still wouldn’t have compared to the agony he was in. The blade pierced through his soul; not leaving a scratch on the physical body. At first, his yell was with Pony’s voice. Then as Castor’s spirit started to be dragged out, his own scream was mixed in. He could hear everyone’s worried shouts but they sounded too far away to make anything out.

Lights flashed at Lightspeed as he clung on as tightly as he could. He could feel Ponyboy’s soul try to keep him in there. The entity grunted as he did one final yank, forcing him out of Ponyboy’s body. For a second, their eyes locked with each other as the younger boy regained awareness.

In a panic, Ponyboy reached out towards him and Castor used whatever energy he could gather to make him as solid as possible for him. Time was moving in slow motion as he was pulled towards the bag and he thought it was over for him. At least he was going to be able to look at Pony one last time.

A hand grabbed him and held him in place; the desperation on Ponyboy’s face made his chest hurt.

“I’m not letting you go,” his companion declared, tightening his grip.

Saving him was wasting his breath. That entity took care of Mr. Flannigan in seconds while they struggled to even hold him down. Ponyboy’s condition was bad and Castor’s energy was draining as fast as a deflating balloon. He took a deep breath.

“Hey,” Castor said. “Let me go.”

Ponyboy shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His arms felt like they were going to rip off, but he couldn’t let go no matter what. If they were to tear off, then so be it! “I’m not going to! I’m not letting it take you.”

“Ponyboy…”

“Don’t tell me any more of that cliché stuff. It’s time for me to save you like you’ve always done for me.”

“Just let me go.”

“No!”

“You have to.”

“I told you already, I’m not doing it.” With a yell, he managed to dislodge Castor from the sickle and they both fell backward. Somehow, Castor managed to flip them over so that Ponyboy would be on top of him. Pony’s face was buried in his chest before he moved in a way to cover up the ghost’s body from view. He would not let the entity take him.

“GONE,” the entity muttered after a bit. And as quickly as it took for it to evict Mr. Flannigan, it was gone. It left with heavy footsteps as it dragged the sack across the floor. Ponyboy finally felt like he could breathe.

Slowly, he pushed himself up so that he was straddling Castor. The first thing he saw was a smile and Ponyboy started to return it. His lips twitched up but it froze. A large glowing scar was left where the sickle had struck. Ponyboy’s mouth went dry.

“Are you okay?” he stuttered.

Castor let out an exhausted chuckle, “I’m just tired.”

Ghosts weren’t supposed to get tired. “How are you tired?”

“Who knows.” Castor reached up and caressed his cheek. His image flickered as the crack grew larger.

Ponyboy’s lips trembled. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. I just want to sleep.”

“Don’t sleep!” He rapidly shook his head, gripping tightly onto Castor’s clothes. Even that feeling of the material was starting to disappear. Disappear? The word burned deeply into his mind. Was Castor moving on now? Mr. Flannigan was gone. There was no reason to stay any longer. Or was was the sickle causing him to dissipate? Either way… he was going to disappear. Ponyboy felt like throwing up. “Don’t go. Please, you can’t. I don’t… I can’t…”

Knowing his fear, Castor stroked his cheek with his thumb. Tears were in his eyes, sliding off the sides of his face. When they crashed onto the ground, they burst into tiny, shimmering lights. It took everything to keep his face from scrunching up. Castor was scared. He shouldn’t be feeling this but he was. He didn’t want this to be it. “You know what? I wanted to move on before, but I’m not so sure anymore. Stopping Mr. Flannigan gave me satisfaction, but I think I found another reason to stay around. I don’t want to go. This isn’t fair.”

His image was flickering. “Don’t go then. Please, Castor…”

“I’m scared,” Castor continued, unable to hide his emotions anymore. “I have more regrets than ever now. I’m mostly going to regret not telling you that I love you, Ponyboy, but I guess that I just fulfilled that one. Oh, man, I wish I could tell you this every minute of the day.”

“And you can.”

“I don’t think I can stay awake much longer but I wanted to say two more things to you. You said before that you wanted to save me for once, but you saved me the day we met, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. The second thing… I love you.”

The crack had fully spread across his face and Ponyboy quickly reached up to hold his hand, but Castor disappeared in a blink of an eye, and in place of the ghost was a porcelain doll they must have landed on. His hand grasped onto nothing. He was gone. There were no sparkles like with the other ghosts. Not even the smell of sandalwood was left behind.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone, Gone. Gone.

Ponyboy let out a gutwrenching scream. It felt like the string of fate had been sheered with scissors. An audible snap sent tremors up his body and caused another piece of him to vanish.

“No! No! No!” Ponyboy screamed. He looked around to see if Castor was playing a cruel joke, but he wasn’t there. Only the gang, who didn’t know what had happened, was before him. He didn’t quit though. He kept looking around, patting the ground around him

“What’s wrong?” Soda asked, rushing over to him. He tried to turn his brother to look at him, but Ponyboy ripped himself away. He grasped onto the doll because, maybe, just maybe, Castor was there.

Sirens sounded, causing Steve to curse.

“sh*t, we gotta get out of here. They’ll think we did this,” he said.

Soda nodded. “Come on, Pony. We have to run now.”

“No!” Ponyboy bellowed defiantly. “I need to find him.”

“Find who?”

“Castor! He’s gone! I need him!”

“I can see them,” Two-Bit warned, rendering to the police. “If we want to get out of here, we have to do so now.”

“And my car is out front,” Steve hissed. He turned to Ponyboy and picked him up. “Listen, kid, you can search for him later. I don’t want any of us to go to jail.”

Ponyboy pathetically kicked and squirmed as he screamed out Castor’s name, but no amount of calling brought his ghost companion forth. Seven souls had entered the antique shop and only four came out that day.

Chapter 27: Life Isn't Fair

Chapter Text

This was a familiar scene. Once again, Ponyboy found himself in the hospital. The gang had taken him there to get inspected. At first, he was reluctant since he felt fine, but adrenaline was still causing him to vibrate in his seat. He mostly just wanted to go home, stick on a bandage or two, and wallow in his room. Nevertheless, he was taken to the ER while Steve contacted Darry.

The wait for his brother’s arrival wasn’t long, yet it felt like it took forever. Around him, people were crying or coughing up a storm which made it difficult to relax, and the antiseptic scent was causing his head to spin. Ponyboy continued to look for Castor, but there was still no ghost. Not even Dally and Johnny made it to the hospital. He tapped his fingers against his leg. It didn’t feel right without him there. He felt exposed and he didn’t like that one bit.

When Darry arrived, he quickly scooped Ponyboy in a hug. Steve must have told him everything that had happened, whether that was good or bad. When he was done with that, he pulled him back.

“What were you thinking?” Darry demanded just like how Soda scolded him. Ponyboy wasn’t in the mood for this. All he wanted was Castor.

“I know, it was irresponsible of me,” Ponyboy said monotonously. His brother went on a rant and was throwing his arms up, but no words were reaching him. The ringing in his ears hadn’t stopped–deafening and aggravating. He looked at his hands as he hoped that Darry would leave him alone but he unfortunately misinterpreted it as him not caring.

“I don’t think you understand the severity of this. What you did was bad. Can’t you get my words through your thick skull?”

There was that phrase again. Was that the only line he could say to him? It was always, ‘Why can’t you understand’ this? Or, ‘Get your head out of the clouds’ that. Christ, it drove him up the wall. Yeah, he obviously knew that what he did was dangerous! Why couldn’t he get that through his damn skull? Irritated, Ponyboy cried, “I know! I know that I shouldn’t have gone after a murderer and that I shouldn’t have gotten in that vehicle, because if I hadn’t, Castor would still be here.”

The gang was taken aback by his outburst. Even other waiting people turned to them. Soda patted his head, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to bristle. He said soothingly, “Your friend will come back. He’s a ghost, so he can’t die. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

Friend. Ponyboy felt a familiar pit in his stomach. He didn’t like how their relationship was associated like that. The gang knew so much yet so little at the same time. “How can you be so sure? You didn’t see the things that I did. He disappeared and it wasn’t like how other ghosts moved on. It was different. It… didn’t feel right. Golly, Soda, I’m scared.”

Soda smiled reassuringly (but he didn’t know). “It’s going to be alright.”

Liar.

“When he supposedly disappeared, it looked like you were straddling that doll,” Two-Bit teased to lighten the tense mood. Ponyboy couldn’t even find himself to be embarrassed about that.

“What’s with that doll, anyway?” Steve asked, pointing to it. It was sitting on the ground by his feet. Its large, glass eyes stared forward without one blink. Pony shrugged. He hardly remembered even grabbing it. Maybe at the time, he hoped that Castor’s ghost was trapped in the doll. He had heard stories of haunted items before, so it wasn’t that big of a long shot. However, the toy seemed like a regular, old doll. Castor could very much be in there as much as he could be somewhere outside the hospital. He pursed his lips at that thought. Steve poked at it with his foot. “It’s f*cking creepy.”

After seeing his younger brother’s expression, Soda asked, “Pony, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t have time to sit around. Castor could have been outside the hospital somewhere, lost like other wandering ghosts. He stood up despite his body’s protests and stated, “I need to go.”

Darry grabbed his arm before he could take a step. “Go where? You’re in no condition to be moving around much.”

“Yeah, maybe you should rest,” Two-Bit agreed.

“I need to find Castor,” Ponyboy persisted.

“Well, why can’t you wait? You’re going to be called in soon,” Darry said.

Ponyboy shook his head and swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t wait. Each minute felt like he was being pulled further away from him. If he didn’t start looking for him now, would he ever find him? “I saw him disappear. How many times do I have to say that? I have to find him.”

“What if he moved on?” Steve reasoned and Soda quickly slapped his arm in warning when he saw how Ponyboy went pale.

“He didn’t!” Pony practically yelled, shaking. He didn’t want to even consider that option! “He wouldn’t leave me alone. He wouldn’t! Please, I have to find him.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at his desperation. “Why are you so insistent about this?”

Jesus Christ! Why couldn’t they understand what he was saying? Why couldn’t they see how his hands were trembling and how his eyes were wide with fear? Why were they trying to block him like a wall? He just wanted to see the man he fell for.

“You don’t understand. I–” Ponyboy closed his mouth. His throat was so tight now that his words were strangling him. He had almost let it slip–the big, three-letter G word. He knew he shouldn’t be worried about it right then but, if he came out to them and they didn’t accept him, then his world would have been over. It sounded dramatic but the possibilities were still there. If it did happen like that, he would have lost everything. He wasn’t ready to take that risk yet.

“I?” Darry repeated.

Ponyboy pressed his lips together and hung his head. He couldn’t do it after all. “It’s nothing.”

Maybe Darry finally caught on to his urgency or maybe he was finally able to read his emotions because something seemed to have clicked. With a frown, he knelt in front of him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t think we’re done talking about your reckless behavior, savvy?”

“I know.”

Then he asked, “Do you really want to look for him?”

Ponyboy nodded fervently. “I do. Something’s wrong, Dar.”

“Okay,” Darry sighed, standing up. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “We’ll help you look for him. You can ask Dally and Johnny too. I’m sure they would do a better job than us.”

“Thank you.” And he meant that. It meant the world to him. Ponyboy’s shoulders finally relaxed, leaving behind an achy reminder of his fear. He was surprised he was letting him look and even more so when he offered to help. He wasn’t sure how the gang was going to assist in this search since they couldn’t see ghosts, but he was surely going to be appreciative of whatever they were able to do.

Two-Bit seemed to have the same concern because he asked, “How can we help if we can’t see ghosts?”

The gang fell silent for a moment. Sure, they couldn’t see, but Castor could use his eyes and ears. “We can spread out and call out to him. If he sees any of you, he can follow you back.”

“So, we’re supposed to look insane while we do this?” Steve questioned. “Why can’t he go to your place by himself? He’s probably been there a million times already.”

“Ghosts get lost,” Ponyboy answered a bit too harshly. He was buzzing to leave and start. He didn’t care if Steve liked the plan or not, but he knew that he was asking for a lot. “I need you to do it. Please, Steve. This is the one thing I’m asking of you.”

In any other circ*mstances, Ponyboy would have punched himself for begging the guy. Their relationship improved over the past months, but there would always be a fine line that separated them. Steve wouldn’t beg him for anything and he knew that Ponyboy wouldn’t either unless it was absolutely necessary. The two stared into each other's eyes before Steve finally relented with a huff. He folded his arms. “Fine, I’ll help.”

While they continued to talk, they didn’t notice the doll slump forward.

It wasn’t too much longer for him to get called back. As soon as they left the hospital, they went straight to searching. Everything in his body was hurting (he may have lied to the nurse who asked him about his pain rating) but his desperation fueled him forward. The gang split up after they promised to meet at the park in a few hours, but Darry made sure to stick with Ponyboy just in case there was more danger. Although Ponyboy was almost certain that Mr. Flannigan was taken care of, there was still a chance that he was still out there and there was also the possibility of him getting jumped.

They looked everywhere for Castor, Dally, and Johnny. For some reason, his two friends weren’t anywhere in sight. They would have followed him to the hospital, but something must have been wrong. He knew that they were just two ghosts in a large city, but they would have checked in on him to see if he was alright.

His eyes looked from person to person. There weren’t too many people outside in this weather–the streets were almost empty. He checked all of the alleyways, looked inside stores, went to the Soc’s side of town, and even went to the Drive-ins, but there was no sign of any of them.

Gone.

Missing.

As time went on and the sun quickly started to set, Ponyboy became more desperate. He started to run through the flooded streets and pushed past anyone who came across him. Darry tried his best to follow but, even with his injuries, the younger brother was still faster than him.

“Castor!” he screamed out. Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! His voice had already become strained. He wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up with laryngitis tomorrow. Somehow, he made it to the meet-up place. The gang was already there but Castor wasn’t with any of them. All hope drained from him in an instant. Ponyboy collapsed to the ground, knees sinking into the mud.

He wasn’t here. Why wasn’t he here?

Castor was gone. He guessed he must have moved on. He knew that was the plan initially, but now that they made it to that point, he couldn’t help but feel sick.

Gone?

That wasn’t fair. Nothing in his life was. Why did he always get the short end of the stick? He sniffled. He was alone. The universe loved to play cruel pranks on him, making him happy before ripping the rug out from under him.

Alone? He didn’t want to be alone. He hugged himself, pressing his numb fingers into his arms. He didn’t want this. Why couldn’t something go right in his life?

Not fair!

Suddenly, there was a warmth that enveloped his back and the smell of sandalwood wafted in the air. Ponyboy almost found himself sighing in relief because Castor was there. He had followed them to the park but hadn’t said anything. He was back. But when Ponyboy turned around, there was no ghost behind him. The touch and scent were only remnants of his memory.

“There you two are,” Soda said, approaching them. He bent down to Ponyboy and hugged him. “I’m guessing he’s not here?”

“We couldn’t find him,” Ponyboy muttered, shaking his head.

“He’ll be back, I’m sure of it.”

He was only saying that to make him feel better, but it was clear to all of them that Castor was gone. “But you don’t know that. I…”

Now that he thought about it. Throughout the entire search, he hadn’t seen any ghosts. Not one. In the weeks that he had this ability, he had gotten used to them and many often looked like the living, but the streets were always crowded with them. Today, the streets were desolate and there were no out-of-place ghosts around. Not even one of the large ones.

Nothing.

There wasn’t even a ghost in the park they were in.

Maybe he couldn’t find Castor because… because he couldn’t see ghosts anymore. Maybe there was more missing than he thought. He clenched his jaw. Just like that, everything went back to normal. He got what he used to wish for, but now Ponyboy wanted his ability back.

Not fair! Not fair! Not fair! Why now of all times?

“I can’t lose him…” Ponyboy whimpered, hugging Soda tightly.

“Pony…” Soda whispered.

“I can’t lose him, Soda. I love him.”

Everyone’s eyes widened as their breaths hitched. He could have meant it as a friend, but his longing tone said otherwise. Soda hugged him tighter. “You love him? More than a friend?”

It didn’t look like they were responding badly, which he was thankful for. It was the only good thing going. He nodded his head, digging his face into Soda’s shoulder. “I loved him more than a friend. I cried and tortured myself with him these past few weeks and the only thing that was keeping me going was the thought that there would be light at the end of the tunnel, but where is it? All I see is darkness. I don’t know what to do anymore. Tell me what to do. I’m lost.”

“Oh, Pone.” Soda couldn’t answer him. None of the gang could. He could only comfort him with a hug. There was nothing else that could be done. Ponyboy wanted his life to be normal, but now… he hated it.

Chapter 28: Gone with Smoke

Chapter Text

Ponyboy found himself sitting in his room, feeling both scared and lost. Nothing felt right anymore, as if a part of him had been ripped out. Several days had passed since he had last seen Castor and he hadn’t eaten much since then. Sleep was beyond the question. His stomach growled, but he still couldn’t find an appetite.

He knew that he was worrying the gang. He could see it in the looks they gave him. His brothers had tried everything they could to get him to eat. They made his favorite dish, tried blending food into a liquid, and even tried feeding him themselves. Nothing worked and they were at a loss.

How could he eat at a time like this? Castor was gone, but even though that was so, he could still smell him everywhere. It made him want to believe he was still around. So, Ponyboy tried to talk to him; created an Ouija board in his journal too. But what was the point? He couldn’t hear his voice anymore and the planchette wouldn’t even move. He was gone and he had to accept that, but lately, he would find short written messages in his notebook that he couldn’t remember writing. So maybe…

“Please eat,” Soda begged again one day. He placed a bowl of soup onto his lap. Its warmth seeped through the porcelain, almost too hot to hold. Ponyboy lifted his hand and swirled the broth with the spoon. However, just like the other days, he wasn’t hungry. With a deep sigh, he placed it on his nightstand and watched his brother’s face fall.

Not wanting to worry him more, Ponyboy reassured him, “I might eat some later.”

Besides, what if he accidentally slurped up a ghost that happened to be using his soup like a bath? Soda gave him a tight smile, patted his shoulder, and soothed. “It’s going to get better.”

How was it going to get better? There was nothing else he could do. He was at a wall. “Maybe.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

If Ponyboy couldn’t do anything, Soda couldn’t either. He restlessly tapped his finger on his leg. He needed something to occupy his brain and distract him from the pain. Something he could do mindlessly. “Can you get my notebook from my backpack?”

Soda did just that. Ponyboy had already filled out several pages, most of which were covered in so many scribbles that they turned dark. He opened it to the first page and his eyes rested upon the words: I LOVE YOU . He didn’t remember writing them. His first thought was that it was Castor and a flicker of hope lit in his heart, but that idea was preposterous. It made more sense to say that he was going crazy. With a shake of his head, he flipped through the other pages to find a blank one, but, while he was doing that, loose papers slid out. Curiously, Ponyboy picked them up and instantly recognized them. These were the copies he made from Mr. Flannigan’s journal. The police had taken the original as evidence. He had totally forgotten about these.

It brought a wave of nostalgia, but he didn’t need these anymore. The case was finished.

“What are those?” Soda asked, peeking over his arm to look at them.

“I…” Ponyboy swallowed. “I copied pages from Mr. Flannigan’s journal just in case it was confiscated.”

Soda chewed on his bottom lip. He probably wanted to tell him to put them back down because holding onto something like this wasn't good. However, he hesitated, and instead asked, “So, what are you thinking?”

Ponyboy rubbed his thumb against the edge of his page. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to read them?”

Did he? In a sick way, he did. He guessed that reading them was like he was putting himself back to when Castor was there. Regardless, he shouldn’t read them, but he also didn’t want to throw them away. They were the only proof he had that Castor ever existed; that he wasn’t a part of one giant dream. Still, he nodded. Maybe, just maybe, he would find some closure.

He started to read through Castor’s entry ever so slowly, and each word still made him feel sick to his stomach. It was almost too much for him, and he was about to put the pages back down–being as they were too difficult to read–but then he had a realization. He leaned forward. The details were small and almost unnoticeable yet critical. When he had first read the page, he didn’t think too much of what was written. But Ponyboy knew Castor’s case from the inside out now, and some details in the journal didn’t add up. Or maybe it was better to say that things that were said happened didn’t match up with what Mr. Flannigan wrote.

The entry spoke about how Castor’s body had drifted down the river and then later rested under a sugarberry tree. He remembered skimming the newspaper articles, but he didn’t remember ever reading about the body being found under a tree. Yet, a corpse had been found. Ponyboy brought a thumb to his lips and chewed on his nail.

Was it possible…?

He wished he had the newspapers near him to confirm the details. Some had a picture of the corpse too. If only he could see them so he could confirm whether or not the lingering theory in his head was true: Castor’s body was never found.

His breath hitched in his throat. Everything had been set up.

“Pony?” Soda asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You alright? You had this intense look in your eyes.”

“I think I figured something out,” he answered. He couldn’t see ghosts anymore. He wasn’t anyone special. He wasn’t the strongest guy in the world nor was he the smartest, but he would be damned if he didn’t finish this through. Castor never got a proper burial and he was going to make sure he got it.

Hell, while he was at it, he might as well find where Mr. Flannigan had stashed the other bodies. Ponyboy often thought he wasn’t helpful to Castor, but he knew that the ghost would disagree. Still, if he could do one good thing for him, it would be this (and maybe finally find closure himself).

“What did you figure out?” Soda questioned, sitting up straighter.

Ponyboy waved his hand passively and, with new bravado, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll tell you later.”

He gripped the journal entries in his hands so tightly that they started to crumple, and ran out of the room. He didn’t even bother grabbing a jacket.

“Wait!” Soda called and chased after him to the living room. The gang was there, and they instantly sat up when Ponyboy rushed in.

“What’s going on?” Two-Bit asked.

Soda shrugged. “I don’t know! He just started to run.”

Darry stood in front of Ponyboy before he could leave.

“Whoa there,” he said. “Where are you off to in a rush?”

“I need to go to the library,” Ponyboy answered.

“Why do you need to go there?”

Ponyboy started to bounce impatiently on the soles of his feet. “To look something up.”

“Well, did you eat yet?”

Why was everyone so adamant about him eating food? Couldn’t they see that he desperately needed to do this? He wanted to scream and pull on the roots of his hair, but arguing would only delay him. “No. I just need to go.”

“Is this about Castor?”

“It is.” His brows became downturned. “So, please, Darry. Let me go. I need to do this.”

Darry sighed in thought. “Eat first. After that, we’ll help you find what you’re looking for.”

The younger brother could feel his eyes widen. They were going to help him again? “You don’t have to.”

“We aren’t going to let you do this alone. You know that by now.”

“Yeah, Pony, you love him, so we have to take care of him too,” Soda chirped. Those words brought a smile to his face. How much he loved the gang was ridiculous. They were the best.

“Now go eat your soup, and then we can get going,” Darry shooed.

With a nod, Ponyboy practically ran to his room and slurped down the soup so fast that he almost choked. He hadn’t even bothered to use the spoon. The broth ran down his face as he practically set a world record for the fastest soup-eating time. When it was empty, he gently dropped the bowl into the sink, and then turned to the gang with a bounce in his step and said, “Let’s go.”

When they arrived at the library, Ponyboy led them to where the newspapers were stored and quickly briefed them on what he needed.

“I need to find articles about his corpse–like something with the location or if you find one with a picture of it.” When they got to the door, Ponyboy hesitated. The last time he was there, he had been chased by a huge ghost. At the time, he thought he was as good as dead. It was still there, he knew that, but now that he couldn’t see it, he didn’t know how he was going to protect the gang or himself.

“Why’d you freeze?” Steve asked. Ponyboy shook his head. He shouldn’t be worried about that. If he only lost his ability to see, then he had to put faith that Johnny, Dally, and Castor were there to protect them.

“Nothing,” he breathed out. He opened the door (no ghost) and they began their search. Ponyboy pointed to the area where the articles were and the gang leafed through them to find the specific ones they needed. Soon, they had a short stack which they took back up to a table.

“Man, I’ve never liked coming in here,” Soda said, looking around uncomfortably. “It’s too quiet. How’d you do it anyway, Pone?”

“Coming into a library?” Ponyboy reiterated the question. “I just like it, is all. The quiet helps me focus and think. It’s nice.”

“Then the world needs to be quiet all the time,” Darry grumbled, probably making a jab at the fact that Pony never used his head.

“I like libraries,” Two-Bit said, surprising them all. “The librarians are the most fun to mess with.”

Ah. For a moment, he had them all questioning what they knew about him.

“Let’s get back to searching,” Ponyboy suggested. He picked up the first paper and quickly skimmed it over. He needed to find anything that mentioned a location, and, sure enough, it was different than what was written in Mr. Flannigan’s entry. He picked up another article and then another. Each one stated that the body of “Castor” wasn’t found far from the bridge that he had allegedly killed himself off of. It had washed up on the bank of the stream. His eyebrows furrowed. Was it weird that he was sort of excited that his body wasn’t found?

“What are we looking for exactly?” Steve asked.

“The articles all say that Castor’s body was found near the bridge he allegedly jumped from. Mr. Flannigan wrote something different.” Ponyboy took out the entry and smoothed it out on the table. He read, “His body traveled from where it was dropped, caught in a strong current between rocks and tangled with deadweight and other limbs. It touched the murky water near the sewage pipe. I needed to move it. This water must not ruin his healing. I needed to merge him with the Earth so that he could be reborn anew all cleansed. All sin must be left behind under the dirt of the sugarberry.”

“You’re right,” Darry hummed. “It was found near a sewage pipe. From the mentioned bridge, there is a pipe that dumps sewage a couple of miles from it. It pollutes the water like crazy.”

“Of course, you would know how many miles from a bridge a sewage pipe was,” Steve snarked which earned him a slap on the back of his head.

Soda pulled out a newspaper while Steve complained about being abused by Superman. “Look, Pony, this one has a picture of the body.”

Ponyboy took a better look at it. It wasn’t the greatest picture, but he could make out the shape of the bridge in the background. The body was wearing the same outfit that Castor wore, and with his bloated-beyond-recognition body, it would have been enough to convince anyone that it was him. But Ponyboy knew Castor.

“Is it him?” Two-Bit asked.

“It’s the same outfit,” Ponyboy answered. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him!

“So… Does that mean…” He trailed off which Ponyboy was glad for. He didn’t think he could handle hearing the rest of the sentence.

He looked at the photo again, feeling nauseated.

“No, it doesn’t mean that,” Ponyboy finalized. “It’s not him.”

“How could you tell?” Darry asked.

Because he could just tell that it wasn’t him. Ponyboy knew Castor. It didn’t matter if the body before him was bloated and rotten. He could recognize the smoothness of Castor’s ashy hair and the angle of his jaw a mile away. He could find all of his moles and freckles like lines connecting stars in a constellation. He could tell what finger he liked to rest a pencil on just by his calluses and what side he slept on when he was alive.

He knew Castor and this wasn’t him. Even though the picture was grainy and void of color, he knew for a fact that this wasn’t the guy he fell in love with.

“I just can,” was all he said.

“It looks just like a regular, bloated dead guy to me,” Steve commented.

Ponyboy shook his head. “I just know, okay?”

Steve sighed. “No offense, but you gotta have a better explanation than that.”

“Then…” Better explanation? How was he supposed to convince them of this? They couldn’t see what he saw. They didn’t love Castor like he did. “Then… Let’s see it for ourselves.”

“Huh?” came everyone’s reaction. They all stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. So, he did.

“Let’s unearth the body. Let’s get a closer look at it.”

Now they were even more puzzled, and instead of looking at him with confusion, they were now staring at him like he had grown another head.

“I don’t think you’re thinking clearly,” Steve said, finding his words. “First of all, you want to dig up a body? That’s creepy, kid, and I’m sure grave digging breaks a thousand laws. And second of all, how would finding his body prove anything? It’s probably just bone by now. We won’t be able to recognize it.”

“When did you start to care about what was lawful or not?” Ponyboy huffed. Steve was stating the facts but the boy couldn’t be more frustrated with him. He was telling the truth. Castor died months ago so his body had already gone through several stages of decomposition. All they had was his location to prove that it was him. They also had… “His teeth then. We can look at his teeth.”

“How would that show anything?”

Two-Bit raised a hand. “Yeah, I’m confused about that too.”

“Teeth aren’t bone. I think I read somewhere that they don’t decay the same way the body does. Something to do with bacteria, I think. Castor had a gold crown on one of his molars and one of his canines was chipped.”

The gang fell silent for a few seconds as they started to realize they were probably going to have to dig up someone’s grave. Darry was quick to halt the operation and said, “How about we don’t decimate someone’s grave just yet? Why don’t we find Castor ourselves by using the clues in the journal entry?”

So that was how they found themselves driving to the bridge. They parked on the side of the road and discreetly descended down to the stream with Darry’s extra shovel in hand. Their feet sunk into the mud as they followed the river (while being careful of the high water level) downstream for a couple of miles. Slowly, more trees started to appear and Ponyboy started to wonder how they were going to locate a body. Now that he thought about it, what did a sugarberry tree look like?

It got muddier and smellier and the gang saw the sewage pipe that was dumping out gray water. Two-Bit stuck his tongue out while everyone else held their breaths.

Oak.

Cypress.

Elm.

Buckeye.

Oak.

Oak.

Oak.

Oak.

Where was he? They found the sewage pipe referenced in the journal entry. He couldn’t be too far now. Sweat fell down his spine. Did they have to go further? But if that was so, how much further?

The water was still heavily contaminated here. Mr. Flannigan wouldn’t want that, but how far was he willing to carry a heavy corpse for?

They continued, listening to Steve complain about how his shoes were ruined. They were all starting to lose hope as they started to realize how impossible this task was. None of them wanted to be out there in the mud and none of them wanted to look for a dead body. Maybe that was as far as they should go that day. Right before that idea was suggested, something small hit him. At first, he thought maybe a bee had flown into his chest but whatever it was, it fell to the ground, and when he looked down there was a berry–a deep brownish-red ball.

Was that… Was that a sugarberry? He picked it up and examined it closely. He wasn’t someone who could easily identify plant species but there had to be a reason why they called it a sugar berry. He plopped it in his mouth after he wiped it down, ignoring Darry’s gasps.

“Why did you eat a random berry?” Darry barked, probably questioning how he lived this long without any survival instincts.

Ponyboy played with the berry with his tongue, knocking it from one side to the other before he split it open with his teeth. It tasted like… an apple? He spat it out and replied, “I wanted to see if it tasted sweet.”

Darry was exasperated. “You can’t just do that. What if it was poisonous?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Darry looked like he wanted to argue.

“Well, is it from the tree?” Two-Bit questioned. They all looked at the tree that produced it. It was the only one in the area from what they could see. The water was cleaner there too. His mouth instantly went dry. This was it. It had to be.

“Right there,” Ponyboy pointed. “Right under that tree.”

“Are you sure?” Soda asked.

“Positive.” That was a lie. He wasn’t confident at all. This could have been the wrong tree or, hell, it was possible the body wasn’t even buried in this area.

“Let’s start digging then.”

They dug for hours around it. The mud was as heavy as cement bags and it didn’t take long for their arms to start feeling like jelly. The work was hard and despite the tree being full of berries, they started to believe that the digging was fruitless. Sweat fell down their temples when, suddenly, the shovel jabbed into something more solid. After clearing the area, they found a blue suitcase that had a dark stain on one side.

A knot formed in Pony’s stomach when it was pulled out. It smelled worse than anything they had ever smelt before. It made all of their eyes water and forced them to breathe from their mouths. All of them didn’t know what to do from there. Well, they did. They had to unzip it, but none of them wanted to do so. But someone had to.

Ponyboy swallowed the lump in his throat as he reached down. His hands shook as his fingers lifted the zipper. He was about to start unzipping when a hand grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“You shouldn’t be the one to open it,” Steve said, letting his wrist go. “Breathe and go to Soda.”

Taking a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding, Ponyboy nodded and took several steps away from the suitcase. Soda’s arms wrapped around him, pressing his head into his chest to prevent him from looking at the thing, but the boy knew he had to. He turned his head so that he could watch.

Steve unzipped it and they were hit with an even more revolting smell as gas was released from the confinement. He quickly threw it open and all of them violently gagged.

In the suitcase was a dismembered body. Each chopped piece was small to fit inside the tiny box. It was rotten and parts of it were already greatly decayed. Bones stuck out of the leftover flesh like skewers and maggots, which had probably recently breached the case, were eating away at whatever was there. The head must have been buried under the mangled limbs which Ponyboy was sort of grateful for. The body had been drained of blood before it was placed in there, he realized. It suddenly made sense how Mr. Flannigan was able to carry it so far.

“sh*t, man. What the actual f*ck,” Steve cursed, turning away. The rest of them did as well… except for Ponyboy. He kept his eyes glued and his breath stopped once again. It was Castor. Even though the body was like that he knew it was him. It didn’t matter if he was just bone, he would be able to tell who it belonged to.

He knew that Castor was dead but there was something about seeing the corpse that hit differently. He gagged again and pushed himself away from Soda to spew out the soup he had eaten earlier in the day. It burned his throat and traveled up his nostrils, sending tears to his eyes.

“Castor… he… that’s him,” Ponyboy gasped out, vomiting again. “That’s him.”

Soda went back to comforting him, letting him sob his eyes out while rubbing his back. Ponyboy started to wonder what it must have been like for him in his final moments–how scared he must have been and how much pain he was in. Castor had told him everything that he could remember but the sight before him was heinous.

How could Mr. Flannigan do something so horrible to another person? Castor died too young and no one deserved to be murdered in such a way. Was he conscious when he was dismembered or was he already dead? Did Castor have to watch Mr. Flanningah cut off his limbs? This thought only made him cry harder.

He wished that Castor was there. He needed to see him; not this mangled body. Everything was horrible and painful.

“We need to call the cops,” Darry said, bringing attention to him. “Let’s let them handle it from here.”

Nobody could disagree, but it meant that they would have to leave the body there. Ponyboy bit his bottom lip, “I’ll stay here.”

Everyone stared at him in confusion because Ponyboy was the only one who ended up throwing up. Soda even said, “What? Why?”

Ponyboy rubbed his eyes. “I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“But you shouldn’t be around his body when it’s like this…”

“I don’t care. I’m not going.” He wasn’t ever going to leave him for as long as they were connected in this world.

“I’ll stay with him,” Two-Bit volunteered. “If he won’t go, then someone should be with him.”

They finally agreed and Ponyboy honestly hardly remembered the events that happened after that. He watched behind a blurred vision as cops eventually met them at the scene and he listened to the muffled questions they asked in the interrogation. He answered them but he had forgotten what he said the following day.

He briefly remembered when Darry told him that the cops were going to contact Castor’s parents. They must have felt both relief and devastation at the news. Relief that they finally had their son’s body back and the case had finally been put to rest, yet devastated because they had to relive their pain. They had to see the mangled body and learn the truth about what happened to their boy; how much he suffered in his final moments. They also had to face the fact that they had buried the wrong body. Relief? Relief was still painful.

Ponyboy wished that finding the body provided him relief too. The only thing it did was take his mind off of one thing. At least he didn’t have to look for any other bodies. The detectives had taken that job over.

Then, before he knew it, he was informed that the parents were going to cremate Castor’s body after it was released. Ponyboy knew he had to go–he wanted to. He wasn’t going to miss it. So he asked Darry to take him around to all the funeral homes in Tulsa so he could find out which one was going to do it.

He wasn’t sure of the exact date or time it was going to happen. From what he knew, the cremation had already happened. But, for the first time ever, a stroke of luck hit.

Darry had pulled into the parking lot of one of the funeral homes. Perhaps it was fate because Castor’s parents were standing next to their vehicle and comforting each other. He didn’t know how he knew what they looked like. It was just a feeling he had–something that said: “those were them.” They turned when Ponyboy approached them.

“Hi,” he greeted solemnly.

“Hello,” Mr. Mullings greeted back. “Can we help you?”

He quickly gathered what he wanted to say. “My name is Ponyboy. We spoke on the phone a while back.”

“Ponyboy…” Mr. Mullings dragged his name out in thought. “Why do I feel like I heard that name before?”

“I called before to talk about Castor.” That was when realization dawned on them and before they had the chance to yell at him to get lost, he continued, “I also helped the police solve his case and I was the one who found his body.”

Now shock was clear on their faces. Mrs. Mullings said, “That was you?”

Ponyboy nodded. “I am… er… I was very close to your son. I needed to find his body. I did everything I could.”

Whatever tension they were feeling was gone now. Mr. Mullings grabbed his hands with tears in his eyes and gave it a big shake. “Thank you.”

“No need to say–”

“Thank you. Thank you for everything you have done for our boy. I’m glad that he had someone like you in his life. I just wished he was still here now.”

Ponyboy breathed in. The smell of sandalwood was back. Maybe Castor was watching loitering around them. “He’ll always be watching.”

A small smile lifted on their faces. Mrs. Mullings, who Ponyboy had thought was terrifying, shook his hand too and thanked him. Ponyboy then asked, “Is it possible to watch the cremation with you? I don’t know if I can rest until I’ve seen it.”

There was some reluctance in their eyes. After all, the cremation process was private, but looking into Ponyboy’s eyes, they could clearly see the love he had for their son. He had come all this way and had put so much effort into finding him for them. There was no way they could tell him no. With a nod, Ponyboy let out a breath of relief.

He followed them inside while Darry waited in the car. They were brought to a room where Castor’s body had already been placed in a large container. The funeral home wasn’t the fanciest and probably didn’t meet all of the regulations so there wasn’t a viewing room. He briefly wondered why they chose it. Maybe they knew someone who worked there, but that wasn’t really something he had to be concerned about.

The three of them stood to the side as the box was pushed inside the cremation retort and the door was closed. When it was activated, Ponyboy held his breath.

Was this it? Was the story finally over? If this didn’t get Castor to move on, he didn’t know what would. But did he want that anymore? He knew that this was for the best. Castor deserved peace but it hurt. Why did peace hurt? His chest was so tight that it felt like he was going to get crushed.

It hurt. He didn’t want the story to end here. What was he supposed to do after this? How was he supposed to pretend like none of this happened?

As the body burned, he couldn’t help but whisper ever so quietly, “Please, don’t go. I love you.”

The memories they made, the laughs they shared, the conversations they had–those were all things he didn’t want to ever lose to time, but the more the body burned inside the chamber, the more he understood that everything was going to scorch away with it.

This couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t! Castor told him that he was the reason why he wanted to stick around. So, where was he?

“Castor, please…” he whispered again. At least let him hear his voice one last time.

There was a click and all of them jolted when the door to the cremation retort flew open. Flames inside were still high and even on the other side of the room, Ponyboy could feel the powerful heat. Smoke spewed out and filled the room, causing all of them to close their eyes and start coughing. It stung and made it difficult to breathe, yet the operator moved swiftly to close the door again and to turn on a fan to ventilate the room.

It took a few minutes until the smoke cleared enough for Ponyboy to open his eyes. When he did, he came face to face with two hollow eyes that were the size of dinner plates. A… A ghost?

“CAN YOU SEE ME?” the ghost asked. It flashed its large, jagged teeth at him, causing Ponyboy’s muscles to tense. He took a few steps back but stopped when he bumped into something that didn’t feel like a wall.

Sandalwood wafted into his nose and Ponyboy’s head spun around so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash. A smile broke out on his face as the ghost that was behind him asked, “How about me? Do you see me?”