#lol the last too bits are the longest this was extremely unbalanced writing in every sense of the world

[tracybirds]

Apparently I don’t believe in “schedules” or “waiting” lol (last short bit)

Quick summary to get you up to speed: John’s seeing dead people, has done all his life and so he’s left the planet surface.

Thank you to @gumnut-logic for the constant cheerleading :D

[Prologue - 1/5] | [2/5]

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[3/5]

“I’m bored.”

“Okay.”

“Entertain me.”

“No.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

“The definition of the term,” he replies distractedly.

Gordon pouts as he flops back against the pillow, and John continues scrolling. There’s a dead man muttering in the corner of the room, shooting them both dark looks. He ignores him.

“Why’d you even bother to come down if all you’re gonna do is sit there and read?”

“Because I love you very much.”

The words are truer than Gordon knows. He almost didn’t come, almost kept himself wrapped up safe and distant and separate again. He’s glad that he didn’t but John feels the inevitable cavern growing between him and his family the longer he stays, the longer he refuses to look at the spaces between them, the longer he ignores them to keep his own sanity.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t make me sit here bored.” Gordon was definitely starting to whine. “Come on, John, I’m not allowed to watch anything, the least you could do is help me pass the time. What’re you reading, you could read it out to me?”

John meets his brother’s eyes, sees the sincerity shining through. He’s not actually reading anything, just using the repetitive motion to distract him, but he can choose something easily enough.

“If you’re sure.”

“Anything’s better than just lying here.”

“Fine.”

For a moment his hand hovers over the latest research on quasars, grinning faintly at the idea of making Gordon listen to the screeds of data and his own commentary on the conclusions drawn. But Gordon really is trapped with nothing to do and so he settles for Ray Bradbury instead.

His voice is growing hoarse when he puts the tablet to one side and rubs at his eyes.

“Aw, one more John?”

“I’m done,” he says with a yawn.

“Don’t go anywhere, the others aren’t back yet.”

“I’m not.” John shifts in his seat, stretching his stiff joints. “I’ll stay, don’t worry.”

Gordon smiles gratefully at him, unable to keep the relief out of his eyes.

“Thanks, John.”

Gordon glances around the room and John’s heart quickens at the uneasy way his brother’s eyes linger on the occupied corner.

“It gets creepy down here at night.”

John’s throat is dry, and he inches closer to his brother.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Just the vibes,” Gordon says, waving a hand airily. “The shadows, the moonlight, no-one around.”

He grinned at John, unaware of the way his breath was catching on unspoken hope.

“Like one of your ghost stories from when we were kids.”

And this one is angry, as anyone would be to have life stripped from them and relegated to nothing more than fiction. The muttering turns to garbled speech and a shout that punctuates Gordon’s words.

But Gordon doesn’t flinch and John can’t decide if he’s despairing or thankful that he’s had the possibility that somebody else might understand snatched away from him.

The bricks he’s been laying since he first re-entered the atmosphere are stacked a mile high and he exhales steadily, trying to make sense of what Gordon is saying underneath the crescendo of malice and desperation from a ghost who can’t let go.

“Well, do you?”

“What?”

His voice echoes in the silent room but he doesn’t hear it. It’s still angry, trapped in the worst possible way with no hope of rescue, and it’s getting closer. John knows it can’t harm him, not really, but he shrinks away all the same. The mere chill everyone else feels when they pass through them would be a mercy. Instead, a touch leaves him reeling with pain and loss and stories he can’t tell a soul.

It’s between him and Gordon now and John has to guess at the look on his brother’s face as he scrambles to his feet, recoiling from the outstretched arm.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

He can’t hide the horror written across his features.

“No.”

He doesn’t stay. He flees.

[4/5]