#cw: drunk driving

[dexalyys]

How did Theo and Cassidy die? Also who died first and do either of them remember it [・ヘ・?]

(cw for drunk driving?) cass first (09/18/12), yes she remembers it; after the search parties for vivian were called off and her funeral date was announced, cass got wasted and drove headlong into a tree in the middle of nowhere going like 60 mph. theo died days later (09/22/12) but he doesnt remember it. i cant delve into the details, but it was a plushie attack ^_^

[starsfic]

Does Azure also die in a car accident like Lady Bone demon in your art school au?

Yeah, he does after kidnapping Sun Wukong. The original plan was to have it being a drunk driving accident but then I figured that driving while intoxicated wasn't a thing Azure would do.

And then we got the specials, showing how unhinged Azure can be under heavy stress, and now I'm back with this idea.

This would be after Azure lost a special election, Tang Sanzang being released from prison, and Wukong proposing to Sanzang that they have a fancy wedding for their anniversary. (Discussed with @vegalocity down below:

Anyway.

I'm not sure why car crashes are what I'm doing to kill off villains. Anyway, Azure drunkenly kidnaps Wukong, starts driving while he and Wukong yell about each other and their issues, and when things calm down and Azure starts realizing how unhinged he's being, that's when the crash happens.

Wukong somehow survives with no major injuries. A few months later, missing the anniversary but in time for Xiaotian's birthday, he and Sanzang have a fancy vow renewal in Paris. (They couldn't get married on top of the Eiffel Tower, but strings got pulled so they could take pictures on top.)

[ottopilot-wrote-this]

Reflection: "A New Year"

By now, as many as a half-dozen of you may have read my romance/slice-of-life story "A New Year," and I had a couple thoughts I wanted to share about it.

There was a real Ronnie. We weren't best friends, but I was head-over-heels in love with her for five years - as in love as you can be at 13. In true Ugly Duckling style, she blossomed from an awkward, brace-faced girl into a bright, beautiful young woman. And like an inconsiderate dope, I unburdened my feelings on her before graduation, the last time I spoke to her. I don't recommend this.

As in the story, her (ex-)boyfriend recklessly drank too much and wrapped his car around a tree. I remember wanting to reach out to her, but this was before social media and ubiquitous mobile phones. As it turned out, she has apparently managed to avoid social media altogether, and didn't go to our 20th reunion. I have no idea what happened to the little blonde girl with braces I used to try to impress by being the smartest kid in Algebra class.

Upon first reading, the character of Pete might seem like kind of a jerk, or at least, defensive in how he is confronted by Ronnie. That's by design. I wrote the character coded as undiagnosed autistic.

Many autistic people, including yours truly, have something called rejection sensitive dysphoria. What that means is we can process rejection - and even implied rejection - in disproportionate ways. So when his reaction to her confrontation is to center and rationalize his own feelings, that's an impulsive reflex on his part.

Shortly after, she really lets him have it, and he's left unable to respond at all. Going temporarily non-verbal is something that happened to me recently during an argument, and it made its way into this story. It can happen in times of extreme stress or overstimulation, and it hadn't happened to me in many years, dating back to when I didn't know I was autistic and didn't have kids. It's really disorienting knowing you want to say something, but that you just can't.

Both characters really are living disconnected lives. Ronnie's disconnection is rooted in trauma, but Pete's is largely related to his neurodivergence. It's not that he is inherently unhappy, but he lives alone in isolation. It's not until Ronnie storms out on him that he's aware of how lonely his existence is.

[askdrunkjimmy]

Yeah, yeah- I'm going now...

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt: Pride | Word Count: 1031 | Rating: M | CW: Alcohol/drug abuse, driving under the influence, car accident | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth Stranger Things, past Steddie, Eddie is a very bad boy, possibly downright unlikeable, ambiguous ending

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Come on, man.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Eddie!”

He’s not listening, not tonight. Tonight he has a calling from on high. Tonight he has places to be, a person to see. A person to touch.

Tonight he’s driving

He climbs into the car, his beautiful Ferrari bought with the spoils of fame. There are three cars in his garage, but this is the fastest. This is the one he wants to be in tonight. It’s a racer, meant for speed, a rocket ship of possibilities. 

There are voices behind him, the band arguing amongst themselves. Maybe they’re shouting at him, but he’s not listening. He’s only had a two or three vodkas, and coke doesn’t have the same effect on him as it used to, back when he was a kid and all this was new to them. The pills were nothing, just something to keep him awake, something to chill him out. But he’s older now and those things aren’t new anymore. Booze and drugs are supplements, part of the regime, part of his five a day. It’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything.

It’s Gareth that follows him, climbing in beside him a second before Eddie turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing, man? Come back inside.”

“Get out.”

“I’m not—”

“Get out!”

Gareth buckles his seat belt tight and glares at him.

“Fine,” Eddie spits at him. “Fuck you then.”

He revs the engine repeatedly, the vibration like electricity through his body. It only goads him on. He slams his foot to the pedal and the car streaks out of his garage and onto the streets.

The city is magical at night, blinding lights, a stratospheric glimmer of colour. He knows if he was walking out on the road it would be quiet, there’d be no sound, just the occasional car speeding past on the empty streets, just like he is now. There’s music in the car, a blasting thump of drums and bass and he feels his foot drop on the accelerator; he doesn’t look at the speedometer because he doesn’t care. Part of him wishes he’d taken the bike, his black Yamaha that barely gets ridden anymore, then Gareth would still be back at the house with Jeff and Matt and their girlfriends, and not with him shouting for him to slow down. 

“—wait till tomorrow. Nothing will have changed. Let’s just go back, you can talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

Eddie doesn’t like to be ignored, doesn’t like his calls going unanswered. So no, actually, it won’t wait. He wants him tonight. Deserves to have Steve tonight.

“Eddie, slow down.”

“No.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie! It’s red!”

It’s a challenge, him against the stop light, him against the cross traffic. The road is empty, he knows it will be fine, Gareth just worries too much. He always has. Cocky until he’s not, that’s Gareth. If nothing else it will be a good lesson for him. Eddie didn’t want him here so he can consider this his punishment. 

Eddie floors the gas pedal, the engine butter smooth as it gives him the speed he wants, and he howls out of the open window as he flies through the stop light, laughing into the hot summer night.

Gareth is heaving in deep breaths beside him and it only makes him laugh more, he can barely hear himself over the sound of the engine and the music. 

The Ferrari speeds over the freeway and he feels like he’s flying. He feels like he’s free, and when the fuck was the last time he felt like that? His face is everywhere, his every second accounted for, every moment of his life planned. Stand here, wear this, do what we tell you, say what we tell you. He just needs a moment to fly.

Gareth is on the phone, but the engine noise and music drown out whatever he’s saying. Eddie doesn’t really care. He can call Jeff, he can call Wayne, fuck, call the cops for all he cares. What are they going to do? He’s Eddie fucking Munson.

He lifts his foot of the gas just a little, just enough so that when he floors it again he can feel it. It’s like warp speed, he’s Han Solo and Gareth is Chewbacca and the laughter fires through him again, the utter absurdity of it all. He loves his life.

He hates everything.

When he checks on Gareth he looks like he’s going to be sick, and there’s no fucking way he’s going to be sick in his Ferrari, so he lays off the gas. Gareth hangs his head out of his own window, the wind blowing his hair back. It’s warm out tonight, it just makes everything headier. Makes his need feel deeper.

He needs Steve. It’s in his head now, can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t be without Steve. That there, that’s the heart of it, he doesn’t know how to be without him. Can’t get his head around him leaving, can’t comprehend why he’d walk out on this. They had everything, Eddie gave him everything, and he threw it back at him. Like, how fucking dare he work, go out on the road, make money for them? They were fine, they had a system, it worked for him, it worked for Steve, he’d have said if didn’t. It was Robin getting in Steve’s head again, telling him this wasn’t normal, ‘it’s not a relationship if you’re never together, Steve’, and when did she become such a meddling cunt? 

He drops his foot on the accelerator.

It’s not instant. The streaks of light are lining the road, leading him to heaven, and then it’s the light polluted sky he sees, the distant glimmer of weak stars filling the windscreen. He thinks Gareth is screaming beside him, but Eddie’s not scared. He feels like he’s floating, feels the hot night air whip around him, feels the dizzying spin of the car, his own fairground ride in the sky. The strips of white lining the asphalt rise up to meet him. 

He never feels the hit.

Yes it's essentially Blinding Lights by The Weeknd, but this prompt was fighting me so hard and I've spent days trying to make another story work and it just wasn't. Then this came on, and yes I may have looped it for half an hour while I wrote, but I competed the prompt!

@the-unforgivenn

[willowser]

Do you think touya would ever willingly have kids? I know in a few of your drabbles you say that he’s not in his kid’s life for the first couple years bc he had to get his shit together but do you think that later on after he’s in a relationship w someone he loves and is present in his kid’s life he would consider another?

again, disclaimer that i'm answering this question as someone that wants willow beans !! so everyone might not agree and that's okay !!

yes !! i do think after getting over the hump of the first that he would be fine to have another one !

as much as i hate to say this, i don't think — in any au — he's planning on having them to begin with. i always write it as the birth of his first child being the motivator for him to figure his shit out, and i think if it were up to him, that process would take a looooong time if it weren't for an unexpected situation like that. so i really can't imagine him choosing to have a kid bc i think he'd be way too scared — but once he settled down with the dad idea, i think he'd be happy to have more !!!

[girderednerve]

cedar lane, summer, often night

learned to drive on dirt roads: high-banked, narrow, fell; every summer, a few days or really a good hour of rain & they'd wash out. gouged away watch out: ravenous, rough enough to break an axle. the ridges, the road, the way— briefly a river, clear over grit, log-locked.

i was months late to my learner's permit, too scared to hurt someone until i was too scared of being stuck. or i think so, at any rate; it's hard to be definitive. days into rain, years into it, but still never quite the same way twice. he drove drunk, hammered the brake, crept up on the accelerator; minded more the audience than the obstacle.

the water would sheet off the edge of the asphalt, wash down the last slope to those miles of obscurely inhabited county road, sluice sideways across the right of way—& still, always, we went on: never quite impassable, even with the wind high

[bonemaggotsludge]

I'm just some guy, man...

Plus @kingassblast sent me a meme to draw over with myself which is an excuse for me to post my other booz'n'cruise memes

[marshiestars]

Once: Uh, hey, Bill?

Bill: HM?

Once: Sorry if this is too personal, but I was just wondering if you’re gonna, um, k-kiss anyone? On New Years’?

Bill: ACTUALLY, YEAH!

Once: *blushing* R-Really? Who?!

Bill: A TREE AT 200 MILES AN HOUR <3

Once: . . .

[radioactive-earthshine]

Astro Boy: The Hot Dog Corps

I love it when Atom just says these things out of no where.

[funtomb]

things so important and fulfilling about writing my will:

flying purple porsche in the freddywood hills drunk driving champion of 85.

put kids in the tubby custard machine not because he's a scientist but because it's how he relieves stress and he sees them as a renewable resource. you can get a replacement in nine months stop crying.

dresses like steve jobs but is constantly on the verge of going goth were it not for social expectations. still somehow hates that his son is punk. jealousy is a disease he'll die of.

afraid of physical pain and won't fight someone taller than half his height. will run from a fight he can't win. pee pant coward. part of why he kills kids is because he's pretty sure they're one of the few things he can hit that won't hit him back.

bunny kill kids damn that's a bunny slay it's a holiday play with my bunny day bunny this bunny that bunny taken bunny kill kids like it's a vocation you can spring it with a bunny reservation bunny bout to get a standing ovation clap clap clap for this funnybunny but you can't get a pizza from a funnybunny whoa glitch slow down ima give you bunny that you can hold down

unplugged evan's life support to charge his brick phone and call a guy about some chainsaws.

doesn't let his kids watch disney movies because the mouse is the enemy. only his funny animals allowed. fuck batman too! no superheroes he's the only furry. watch fredbear and friends or something live action. support daddy's brand.

can only cook pizza. if he tries to cook something else it becomes pizza. he also microwaves cereal. there's something deeply wrong with him.

the random analog horror type silences when someone near him realises that he'll kill the most vulnerable people he can find not because they did anything but because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time and he was angry. and that he will not be found out or held responsible for this not because he's suave or smart but because he's white and wealthy and a family man and could a guy who also lost a child do something like this? of course not. that's william from the bar! he's a little surly and sometimes shit to talk to but we think it's because he's european. he makes amazing robots that our kids love and is a pillar of the community! there's a very obvious bad apple in the afton family and he's a saint for not kicking that kid out or shipping him off to juvie or the military or boarding school. and if gabriel died because he was having a bad day and that little boy sneezed at the wrong time and 'sent him over the edge' then what can you do?

eighties love ballad enjoyer!

[anderperries]

sorry your theater teacher did what

[yaenas]

location: outside a bar, very late at night

She’s completely plastered and can’t make heads or tails of the way to her fucking car, but she imagines that’s the least of her problems right now. Swearing beneath her breath, she somehow manages to elegantly stumble out of the bar, trying to decide if she wants to go home (such a strange, funny thought, she thinks somewhere deep inside her head... home. She hasn't been anywhere near it for more than an hour in days now, maybe a week, has been practically living at work, head buried in mounds of reports and rife with theories, with furious, stormy overthinking, restlessness; dark, obsessive; she does not know when to stop, doesn't know how to step away and breathe, hasn't for years now)  or back to her office. Her hands are struggling to apprehend her clutch, despite the fact that it’s currently in them, which supposedly houses her car keys.  Logically, she knows she shouldn’t drive, but logic isn’t something she fancies when she’s this drunk- and hey, she is the police; what are they gonna do, arrest her? She pauses for a moment, and rethinks her course of action; no, she can't possibly drive. That would be illegal, she furiously reminds herself, something very akin to anger igniting in her belly at the fact that she has even begun to think of touching her car. In spite of her present state,  she somehow still manages to look like a renaissance painting bought to life: she’s got her long dark curly black hair all the way down to her back and glazed over bright eyes (one blue, one green) that droop, and she is wearing all black silks and leather and this slash of velvet red lipstick; she is beautiful, despite her drunkenness, despite her coldness, her sharp, cold attitude.

Irate and exhausted, Yaena almost trips over as she rounds a corner only to collide with someone.  She curses again, a breathless little fuck spilling off her lips, annoyance flashing wildly across her face as she looks up to piercingly stare at the obstacle in her way (how dare they!)

“Watch it, will you?” she gripes irritably, rolling her eyes in plain sight.

[sloppypears-ash-sg]

Mommies Know Best (OCs)

Assets!

(CW: car accident [dr*nk driving and speeding mention]/mentions of d3@/th under the cut)

Finally, Pan and Coney's moms!

Pan and Coney ARE half-siblings, but they refer to each other as full siblings.

Sundae was Coney's mom. She was loving, caring, and enjoyed hanging out with Coney and Pan. She was also pretty shy, mainly in her childhood and a bit in her adulthood, and connected with Coney because of that. She was autistic, too. Coney and Pan loved her.

Waffle Maker was Pan's mom. She worked more than Crock-Pot or Sundae, and she loved working with Pan and Coney. She helped out with schoolwork unless it was a more creative project, to which she left it to Sundae. She was dyslexic and had ADHD. Coney loved her, and so did Pan until after she died. Pan hates her.

When Coney was 11 and Pan was 7 (no pun intended), they asked Waffle Maker and Sundae to go to one of their favorite restaurants. Sundae accepted, though it took some time to convince Waffle Maker.

Waffle Maker drove the siblings and Sundae, and things were going smoothly until she had to take a detour. She got a little lost, and while turning around, a drunk driver (going over the speed limit) crashed into the car.

The result of the impact was horrible.

Pan and Coney weren't hurt too badly, just some minor injuries...

but their moms weren't so lucky.

Both of them died in the crash, unable to be recovered.

It was the first end of Pan's life as they knew it.

Keep that in mind.

[wolfprincesszola]

The Fate of the Marked Six Chapter 7

as always, reblogs and likes are appreciated! enjoy <3 ——————– Summary: Virgil moves into a new town and meets Roman, a ghost that he promises to help in finding the unfinished business needed to pass over. However, Roman's past seemed to be deeply muddled with trouble, an uncurable disease that has started to affect a classmate, and a certain tight-lipped valedictorian. Friendships are made and Virgil finds himself thrown into a situation far more complicated and twisted than he signed up. Hopefully, with the help of his new five friends, he can find a way to bring peace to the town once and for all.

Trigger Warnings: Drunk Driving Mention

Content Warnings: Swearing

<Masterlist>

<Previous> <Next> ——————–

Chapter 07

Roman spent most of his days wandering when Virgil wasn’t around. A lot of the time, he’d wander around the house, finding a new gadget every day and entertaining himself with it until Virgil got home. Unfortunately, the amount of new things soon ran out after a few months.

“Hey.” Roman laid against the couch, looking at the boy upside down. “I’m bored.”

“Ah, now that you’ve figured out how to interact with the world, you don’t want to stop interacting with things, right?” Virgil teased, as he looked around, “Alright, well, I heard from Logan that there were a few things interesting around town to look at. I hadn’t gotten the time, but I guess the time should be now. I haven’t taken you outside to help with your unfinished business or anything.”

Roman perked up, sitting up normally, “Really? You’ll do that.”

“Sure.” Virgil snorted, “I feel like a dog walker or something, taking you on a walk.”

“Oh please, I haven’t left the house in months.”

“I know.” Virgil smiled, “Come on, just try not to make me look insane for talking to the air.”

“Oh by the way…Logan is…?”

“Ah, one of my friends from school. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned him. I’ve only talked about Janus, Remus, and Patton.”

“He sounds familiar, I just can’t put my tongue on it.”

“Maybe he knows you. I mean…for a while, I tried to see if you and him are related, but I couldn't come up with anything.”

“Oh, why?”

“His last name is also Sanders.”

Roman gave a small smile, “Is he like me?”

“Not at all.” Virgil snorted, “But apparently he has a brother…that he doesn’t like to talk about. It would make sense if it was you and you died. Maybe once upon a time, he was like you and then you died so he changed.”

“Maybe.” Roman shrugged as they walked out of the house, the both of them going into Virgil’s car.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. What places did your friend recommend?”

“Well…okay now that you’re saying friend, I see how wrong I was. I’d like to think we’re friends, but I don’t think anyone’s Logan’s friend in his mind.” Virgil sighed, “He recommended I check out the bookstore, the nearby park, and the museum.”

“Let’s go to the park, museum, and then bookstore.”

“Sounds good.” Virgil smiled before he realized, “This isn’t going to give you nightmares or anything…right?”

“No, it shouldn’t.” Roman snorted, “I’ll teleport out if I need to.”

“Lucky.” Virgil grumbled as he drove, routing directions to the bookstore Logan had mentioned they should visit.

Upon reaching the parking lot, Roman phased out of the door and seatbelt that he had insisted on putting on. The two walked in, Roman before Virgil.

“Welcome, welcome, to the place where I make my income! How can I help you today?” The bookstore clerk grinned, sliding over to Virgil. “I’m just kidding, don’t tell my boss I said that instead of the actual greeting. How can I help you, Virge?”

Roman watched as Virgil smiled, and through context clues, he could gather that the person that worked was Patton. He awkwardly watched them interact before deciding he didn’t need to be there for the conversation, floating around to the different books. He noticed there was both a top level and a bottom level. It was clear the bottom level was connected to a nearby cafe, with the top level being for most of the books, as well as albums. Overall, it seemed pretty nice, but then something caught his eye.

There was a small room to the side that Roman squeezed through to see hundreds of book nooks created by someone. All of them signed with the same name on the side. Logic.

He smiled as he looked through all of them. They were all so pretty.

He heard the door open, and for some reason, he could sense it was Virgil. Smiling at the different books, he came across one in particular. There were wired lights across it, and a tattoo parlor seemed to be built above it. The lights were framed in a way that over the top, it made a semicolon.

“I remember when I made this one.” Roman gave a small smile, the feeling of nostalgia hitting him, “My brother was always a writer and he wanted to write one about a tattoo parlor, and didn’t know where to start, so I offered to help him create a book nook. He did most of them, but I mean…he just couldn’t figure out how to do the lights, so I helped him with it. He cried for the next day after, saying how grateful he was to have a big brother like me. God, I laughed at his stupidity, but I don’t know. I think my brother was just very fond of me.”

He then looked at the name on the side, where it said two names instead. Logic and Creativity.

“You have a brother.” Virgil mentioned and Roman blinked.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“No.”

“Then, we need to figure out who Logic is.” Virgil remarked, “Because I think you’re Creativity.”

Roman stared at the hundreds of book nooks, “I can faintly remember all the book nooks up to that one up there. The Percy Jackson one. He made hundreds after my death…it’s only been a few months.”

“Well, it doesn’t really look like a few months.” Virgil laughed. “But you’re right. That further disproves my theory about Logan being your brother. His brother’s older than him because Logan's brother graduated the year before Logan became a freshman.”

“Huh.” Roman nodded, “Do you think my brother’s even in this area?”

“If your family is your unfinished business, then probably. You never appear in the world too far from your unfinished business. The world isn’t working against you, but actually for you.” Virgil murmured, “Let’s go ask my friend.”

“Patton?”

“Yeah. How’d you know? I never introduced you to him.”

“Context clues.” Roman grinned, “Also it’s on his nametag.”

“Ah.” Virgil nodded as the two walked out towards Patton. “Yo, Patton!”

Patton looked up, clearly not working, as Virgil was the only customer in the bookstore and cafe. “What’s up?”

“What’s the room for book nooks?”

“Ah, we have this frequent visitor who comes in. We don’t know when or who they are, but they keep dropping us off book nooks, for the past 3 years. Their pen name is Logic.”

“Well, we need to.” Virgil replied, “Is there any way we can figure it out?”

“If I knew, I would’ve told you. I want to meet this person and find out why they continue to make them, and what the significance behind some of them are. They’re all beautiful, but only one has wired lights. Only some of them have another person’s name on it. I want to know who they are and find out what their life is.”

“Yeah, well I’ve figured out half the puzzle. If I tell you, will you help me figure out the other half?”

Roman stopped Virgil, “Do you think this is a good idea? I don’t know if I can trust him.”

Patton shrugged, “Of course.”

Virgil gave a look to Roman to tell him that he trusted Patton, and Roman trusted Virgil. He decided that he would trust whoever Virgil did because he learned to care about the boy. He learned about Virgil's trust, and he knew that it wasn’t easy to gain it.

“Alright, what is the half of the puzzle?”

“The person, Creativity? That’s Roman Sanders, who died a few months ago. Logic was his brother, but I don’t know who his brother is.”

It seemed to click for Patton a lot faster than it should have. “You’re a medium, aren’t you?”

“What?” Virgil seemed caught off guard.

“You’re a medium. I knew you had powers, and I’m not as dumb as I seem. It just clicked for me. The reason you know that is because he’s a ghost and he’s looking for your help to find his unfinished business.” Patton seemed to be so happy at that fact. “Is he here right now?”

“Wh-what?” Virgil blinked, “Sorry, how do you know all this?”

“Being around Logan meant that I learned how to pick up on his vagueness a lot.” Patton shrugged, “Hi, Roman!”

Roman raised an eyebrow, waving back to Patton.

Virgil sighed, “He said hi back.”

“I knew it! I’ll help you.” Patton grinned. “I know a dude who has access to all the files. If I can find a Roman Sanders in this city, I can find his brother.”

“Thank you, Patton.” Virgil gave a small smile.

“Yep, no problem.” Patton grinned, “Where are you headed to next since it’s clear you’re not taking home a book?”

“A park and then the art gallery. I’m taking my ghost on a walk.”

“Very offended by that statement.” Roman scoffed, crossing his arms.

However, Roman still followed Virgil around.

-+=~=+-

Roman was in the car with Virgil when he asked something that may have come off as weird, “Can I call you Vir?”

“Sorry?”

“Vir. Like Vir-gil.”

“Yeah, I got that. I just haven’t heard anyone call me that. It's always been Virge.”

“Can I?”

“Sure.” Virgil nodded, “You can call me Vir. Why?”

“I don’t know. I just felt the need to have a nickname with you. I think a part of me likes having you as my medium friend.”

Virgil smiled, “I like having you as my ghost friend, although you can get annoying in the house sometimes. You keep me company…and you’re pretty good at math.”

Roman gave a small smile. They stopped at the park soon after, and Roman walked out, Virgil soon after with his phone in his ear.

“Who are you calling?”

“No one. I just don’t want to seem like I’m insane talking to the air, since there are people here.” Virgil rolled his eyes as they walked over to the park. The actual park itself was beautiful. There were trees with flowers blooming from it, almost mimicking cherry blossom trees. There was a playground for the kids, but there was more space for picnics. The focal point of the park was probably the statue in the middle of the park.

“Holy shit.” Roman whispered as he walked up to the statue. It was a boy sitting at the edge of the pedestal with a paintbrush and a smile.

“Isn’t that you?” Virgil asked, following soon after. “He has the same facial features and everything.”

“Yeah.” Roman whispered, “I think that is me.”

Virgil ran his fingers over the engraved text at the bottom, reading it out loud, “Roman Sanders was driving when a drunk driver drove and took his life. He was an aspiring artist, and could’ve lived to great things had he not died. Remember to drive safely so that lives like his aren’t taken again.”

“Is there anything else?” Roman asked as he decided to try and scale the statue to find anything.

“No.” Virgil murmured, staring at the statue’s face, “Your smile looks fake.”

“Does it?” Roman asked, turning.

“You looked tired in this pose. You look less tired now as a ghost.”

Roman sat next to the statue in the same pose and smiled. Roman’s shoulders didn’t sag and the edges of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Roman titled his head when he gave a smile, and it was much wider than the statue. Roman knew it himself.

“I don’t think you were very happy in your everyday life.” Virgil murmured.

Something ached in his heart as he looked at the statue. For some reason, the statue seemed to capture a life that he lived. A life that he hated.

However, Roman could only remember the life he loved. He remembered the good memories with his friends. Although he couldn’t remember specifics about his family, he could see small memories littered throughout with his parents and his brother. More of his brother.

“I think I want to move on.” Roman murmured, “Let’s go to the gallery.”

“Do you remember wanting to be an artist?”

“No…I didn’t even think that was what I wanted to do. I thought I wanted to be a scientist.”

“Then, I think you’re fooling yourself because you’re a pretty damn good artist if you could do the book nooks.”

Roman couldn’t help the smile that grew, “Thanks.”

Virgil nodded, smiling back as the sunlight hit the back of his head. He looked so pretty and Roman never really noticed it until now.

-+=~=+-

The art gallery was the last stop, but the busiest. It seemed to be the focal point of the city, with a lot of people around.

Roman cut the line even to wait for Virgil on the side with all the art.

However, since it was busier, and he was in a quiet art gallery, Virgil couldn’t risk talking to Roman, so while Roman could tell Virgil anything as loud as he wanted, Virgil had to whisper his response back.

Roman seemed almost at home with the art, and he didn’t know why, but there was a familiarity in all these artists. Then, they got to one that he knew by heart. “The one coming up is Will Oleg. At the age of 5, he was creating masterpieces of art. Even to the time of his death, he was creating with anything he could get his eyes on. His most famous is Wooden Spoon where he stabs a wooden spoon into his canvas to paint around it. My favorite is the one he made out of the sauce his daughter spilled on the canvas because even though he dried it, the painting he made out of it was really nice.”

He turned to Virgil who was smiling at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat for a second as he smiled, “What?”

“Oh…nothing. It’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this passionate.” Virgil whispered, trying to hide the smile.

“I don’t remember a lot about my life before I died…but I think he was my favorite artist.” Roman stared at the works that littered Will Oleg’s section, “I remember feelings though. The feeling I had most about being in this room was the fact that one day, I’d like to have my work right next to his.”

“Maybe that’s your unfinished business.” Virgil whispered.

“Ah…if it was, the universe wouldn’t have filled that room over there. You said it yourself; the universe leaves opportunities open for ghosts until they can finish that business.” Roman gave a small smile, “I think it was just a dream that didn’t come true.”

“Well, let’s see if the person next to Will Oleg is worth being put next to him, instead of your work.”

“You don’t even know how good of an artist I was. I don’t even know how good.” Roman laughed, remembering the paintbrush in his hand at the park statue.

“But I know you, and I want to believe that anything you create is better than anyone else.”

Roman flushed, and couldn’t help but feel his heart stutter for a second. Why was he feeling like this?

With that, the two walked into the next exhibit, and immediately memories flooded Roman’s mind. Flashes of his parents yelling at him, flashes of his brother watching him paint, and flashes of his quiet space all came back to him. He remembered the story behind every painting, remembered what he did with the glow-in-the-dark paints, and remembered how he would pretend like his brother messing up his blank tapestry wasn’t something he planned his brother to do. He turned around to the jellyfish painting in the very back, remembering that he had modeled it after his brother to let his know that he truly cared so much about him.

All of his paintings were filled with love for his family, especially his brother, and it made his heart swell.

“Woah.” The word escaped Virgil’s mouth as he looked at the exhibit in awe, “I’m sorry, Roman, but there is no way you could top this. It’s a beautiful exhibit.”

Roman didn’t answer, staring at the last painting he had ever made before he died. He had a dream about a boy with brown hair, brown eyes, and the most beautiful smile. For some reason, he knew he was his soulmate, and so when he woke up, he took out a canvas to portray everything about him. He was never a portrait painter, so instead, he stuck to what he knew. He drew out scenery, and stuck some jellyfish in it, but the most prominent of everything was the spots of brown and purple.

Then, he turned to see Virgil staring at the painting too. Then, he saw the brown hair, brown eyes, and the purple outfit that he was wearing. And then it clicked on why the universe had given him that dream.

Although he never got to meet his soulmate in his life, it was after his death that he would learn to care for someone. He cared about Virgil, his first friend who promised to help him move on.

He smiled, “Do you like it?”

“Hm?”

“I mean the paintings.”

“Yeah. They’re beautiful.” Virgil breathed, “Especially this one.”

“Thank you.” Roman uttered.

“Why’d you say thank you?”

“Uh…no reason.” Roman gave a small smile, as he decided to keep the artist a little secret. He decided not to tell Virgil to look down and see his name painted on the ground, in big letters. “Let’s go to the next room.”

Virgil nodded, “The artist is different in the next room?”

“Yeah.” Roman lied, knowing that in two-room exhibits of the museum, it happened when the artist was multi-talented. At this moment, he wanted to keep his paintings a secret from Virgil. At this moment, he wanted Virgil to know him as an unknown artist.

As soon as they walked in, the projector in the middle of the room buffered, showing a new video, and Roman heard his own voice.

“The day I fell in love with you, you wore a red jacket. I saw you in it and my heart made a racket. On you it looked really nice; it fit you well, and was worth the price, not too baggy and not too thin, kept you warm enough within.”

It was a poem visualizer, and he watched as in the background of the poem, two people wearing red jackets moved around.

“I thought you did art.” Virgil whispered as he sat down, watching the story play out.

“I think I did both.” Roman sat down next to him, staring at the people.

The two sat in silence, watching his videos as they all came through. Then, he saw a little boy that was not much older than 10 years. He watched as the boy grew up, showing thousands of videos of his smiling with him as years went on, and he felt a tug at his heart.

“Hey, Vir?”

“Hm?”

“How do ghosts know what their unfinished business is?”

“They just do. I heard it described as a tug at the heart, and the feeling of wanting to do something relating to the specific thing, whether it’s a person or an event.” Virgil murmured as he smiled, watching the two interact.

“Yeah, well, I think that boy is the answer to my unfinished business.”

Virgil turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I don’t know who he is…but I think he’s the first step to figuring out what I’m missing.”

Virgil took out his phone, snapping a picture before pocketing it, “We’ll look more into it when we get home.”

Roman nodded as he stared at the boy, his heart aching. As he stared at the little boy, he felt the need to protect, and then…he remembered swearing that he would always protect the boy and make sure he would never be without a shoulder to cry on. If the boy was truly Roman's unfinished business, he must’ve been so alone for a long time without Roman's shoulder to cry on.

-+=~=+-

“How was today? Did you enjoy your walk?” Virgil asked as soon as they were back in the car.

“Oh, Jerky McJerk Face.” Roman rolled his eyes, “I’m not a dog.”

“To me, you kinda are. You are needy for attention, get excited when you see me, need regular outside time, and-”

“Don’t finish the sentence, I get it.” Roman sighed.

“I’m glad you had fun. Besides, we got a little more to work with for your unfinished business.” Virgil gave a small smile.

The two stayed in silence the entire drive home. They didn’t mention anything about it, even when they got back home, until it was almost time for Virgil to head to bed. Roman usually slept on the floor next to his bed, but today, the vibes were different. He wanted to see what else was out in the city, so he let Virgil know. Before he went to sleep though, he stopped him.

“Hey, Vir, I, uh…want to thank you for helping me with this. You really didn’t have to.” He shifted nervously. He was never good with talking about his feelings.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, had I not agreed to help you, I would’ve missed out on being friends with you. I think you’re a really cool person, now and even before you died. I mean, you had your work featured in an art gallery, you had book nooks donated in the bookstore, and most of all, you have a statue after you.”

Roman smiled, and thousands of words about how he was glad he was his soulmate–even if it was platonic–died at his throat. All he said instead was “Good night, Vir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Ro. Try not to die again.”

The two headed off in their separate directions.

-+=~=+-

An odd thing Roman noticed was that even during the night, there were no ghosts wandering around the area. When Roman first appeared in the world as a ghost, there were no ghosts. He figured out what happened pretty soon after realizing no one could see him or would talk to him. During his first few weeks of being a ghost, he found his way around the city and visited the library, trying to see if he could see any books about ghosts. When he did, he waited at the library for someone to take out a book. That was how he found out about his death and whatnot.

Roman had woken up with no recollection about any of his past life except for his name and age. While reading the books along with the other humans (some of them were painstakingly slow readers), he found out that he must’ve been dead for a few months before he reappeared in the world between the spirits and the other world. He found out about his death from the recollection of seeing cars.

However, in books, it had said that there were supposed to be ghosts wandering around everywhere people went. Mediums had talked about ghosts being everywhere too. Even when he learned how to use the internet as a ghost, he found no articles that ever talked about a barren area with no ghosts.

Walking through the city was quiet and nice. He didn’t find anything else useful, but he decided he would talk to Virgil about it when he woke up. Virgil was the only thing Roman had that he knew would always be true. Virgil was real, and Virgil would always be truthful to him. That was all Roman could ask for in a friend, and that was all Roman could rely on at the moment of all of his unknowns about his life and about the city he was in. ——————– little prinxiety dates are always fun to write <3

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