"Baby brother," a young Mordechai Boaz breathed out in awe as he stared at his new brother in his 'crib': a cardboard box with ratty blankets thrown in that Mordechai had done his best to make comfortable. "I'll stay with you. I'll protec' you."
The infant giggled in his sleep and Mordechai's responding smile caused his lip to break open again from his father's slap earlier, but he paid it no mind.
"I'll never leave you."
'I Promise.'
"-ckyâŠ"
The world was nothing but streaks and blurs of color as he slowly pulled himself from the darkness.
"-ecky. Wake u-"
The floor was cold and dirty, newspapers and rags strewn under and around him in a mock of comfort. The blankets were moldy.
"-cky come on."
The needle was itching from where it was still in his arm, and he reached blindly to take it out.
"Decky I'm serious, wake the fuck up!"
A slap against his cheek finally had him opening his eyes and lurching into a sitting position, hand going for the knife in his back pocket. He paused halfway there when the face before him finally solidified and came together in his vision. He then promptly turned to the side and got rid of what little food was in his stomach.
Before him sat Daniel Boaz, dressed in Mordechai's old beaten Serpent jacket that he had grown out of, a dark green t-shirt and gray jeans. Mordechai's old boots were on his feet.
Just like the day he died.
To wrap up the macabre little hallucination, if you looked past the curls that fell over his forehead, a small hole was right in the middle just above his brows.
Noticing his gaze, the younger boy's face twisted in embarrassment as he frantically brushed the curls with his fingers to cover more of his forehead. "S-sorry! I thought I had it covered up! But ya also shouldn't stare! S'rude!" The boy stuttered as Mordechai just stared with wide eyes.
"Wh...at?" Mordechai croaked.
"I said starin's rude. Ya taught me that keepin' your eyes down kept ya safe, 'member?"
Mordechai just stared.
"C'mon Decky-" the name made him flinch, and Danny's frown grew. "What? Why are you flinchin'? It's me." He sounded hurt, and that tone from him practically set fire to his previously put out brotherly instincts.
"N-no it's not you! I just haven't used that name since y-" he froze mid explanation as he realized what he was about to say, voice going quiet and shaky. "What is this?"
"UmâŠ'm not exactly sure?" Danny sat back on his heels from where he'd been kneeling. "I just kinda woke up next to ya a lil' bit ago, been tryin'a wake ya up for a while now. Thought ya might've...y'know."
"...Oh," was the eloquent reply. "Um...well I didn't," he reassured weakly. "But I ain't sure m'not still trippin'."
"No no it's me!" Danny chirped excitedly. "It's not just me either! I think it was a lot of us, actually."
"A...lot of ya."
"Yeah! Y'know," he wiggled his fingers and made a spooky moaning noise. "the gravestone crew."
"RightâŠ"
"Anyway! Where're Poppy an' Jade? And Sonny? I'm guessin' since you're usin' again you an' Lanie broke up, so maybe I'll visit her myself later, but I really wanna see everyone so- what are ya doin'?"
The phone was already up to Mordechai's ear, the ringing loud in the silent drug den as Danny stared at him petulantly.
Buried under a pile of clothes, Penelopeâs phone began to ring a generic ringtone. She wasnât one to go out of her way to find a ringtone for people, regardless of how close she was with them. There were folks that put sentimental value in actions like that, but she just saw her phone as a means to contact someone or be contacted. She wasnât even a romantic and more often than not when people flirted with her, it went over her head. It did not help that she wasnât looking for affection and nostalgia, either. Not since Charlie died.
Laying on the bed in a daze, not really aware if she fell asleep or not or if she had been staring at the ceiling the whole night, Poppy grumbled to herself when the insufferable ring resonated in her bedroom. Sluggishly, she picked herself up and scanned her room, which was slowly but surely returning to a healthy and clean state, with clothes folded on her bed, belongings and books in their designated areas, and the sight of the floor once more. Still, she had a few piles of clothes to deal with, one pile to donate, one pile to toss, and another pile of âmaybesâ that her sister would be great at convincing her what to toss and what to keep.
Following the sound, crawling on her knees, she dug in one of the piles, with mild struggle. After making the other person wait for a few seconds, she mutterily answered the line, not checking who it was on the other side, âHello?â
"Pops thank god, I think I'm fuckin' losin' it here," Mordechai answered in a rush as he struggled to stand up, freezing when he felt the hallucination of his brother helping him. "I-I think my last hit was laced or somethin' cause I'm seeing Boychik and he just helped me fuckin' stand up." He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, feel his blood heating in his veins as his nerves went alright in panic.
"It's not a hallucination, Decky!" Danny cried from where he threw his older brother's arm over his shoulder. "It's really me, come on!"
He clenched the phone tighter and let out a small whimper. "It's so fuckin' real Pops."
âWhat are you on about?â Poppy rubbed her face, contemplating how early it was or late. What time was it even? Well, regardless if the sun was up or not, none of that mattered. Her friend was having a mental breakdown. âDo you need me to come over? Are youââ She hadnât even registered half of the things Decky said, but she did hear a small voice on the other line. ââDo you have someone over?â
Boychik.
âor are you just missing Danny?â After picking herself up, Penelope put her phone on speaker, followed up by placing it on her bed. As she waited for Mordechaiâs response, she stretched her arms, legs, and body, not knowing if this was a moment she should panic and rush to his street or be calm, cool, and collected, because he needed that from her. There was no point in having two people freaking the fuck out because of anxiety or grief or whatever mental issues they both had.
"I'm always missin' 'im Pops, I'm just usually not seein' 'im too."
âJesus woman; after everything you still donât lock your window? Youâre a mad bitch, Poppy.â
Charlie Decker tumbled through the open sash window as he had done from the age of five until the day he died when he was eighteen. He crashed down to the floor as he always did, never understanding how tall and lanky he actually was. Every single time he entered the window he caught his stupid big feet.
He hadnât aged a day; he looked exactly like he did on that awful day all those years ago, save one thing; the leather jacket that now hung on the back of Penelopeâs desk chair. His jet black hair was loose over his face and his fingers were adorned with rings (Decker did like his hot topic bling). His black jeans and Doc Martens were a little bit dirty and his faded band t-shirt was stained with likely cream cheese. As he sprang back up to his full height, Charlieâs face scrunched up as he caught wind of a foul stench.
âIt smells like ass in here.â He wandered over to the bed and took a seat on the edge. âIs thatâŠ? Stale bagels? How could you waste such a gift?â
In times like these, people had three responses. Fight. Flight. Or Freeze. The voice she had heard come from the window had grown faint over the last year, but still she could remember it like it was yesterday. With wide eyes, she eyed the boy in front of her and the first thing her mind could think of wasâŠ
Slap!
Caught up in a nightmare or a dream, Penelope was quick to grab her phone and not take in the boy that should be dead. Instead, she ran to the bathroom, locked the door, and ran into her sisterâs room. In complete denial, she convinced herself there was a stranger in her room.
âUhhhhâŠ. M-mordechai.â As if seeing Charlie wasnât painful enough, her older sister came out of the closet holding some of her untouched, lonesome clothes.
âYou guys seriously havenât touched anything here. Nothingâs changed, aside from the occasional dust bunnies. Poppy, where's my blue dress? You know the one you wore junior year when you wanted to confessââ
MaxâŠ
âMORDECHAI!â Alarms setting off, the first thing Poppy thought of was where the nearest firearm was. Her dad had them hidden throughout the house but the nearest would be her parents' room. Mad dashing, she bolted out of one room, going down the hall, and entering the other, locking the door. Why did her parents have to be at work now?!
Swiftly she searched her momâs dresser until she found the revolver, as she did so she instructed her friend, âWe need to meet. Now. Whatever you caught is spreading. I, Iâm seeing⊠what the fuck is going on? This has to be a dream.â Taking the gun off of its safety, there was a moment where Poppy contemplated shooting herself. That would force herself to wake up but instead she heard a sound and pointed the gun straight to where it was coming from.
Charlie stood by the door with his hands raised. The side of his face was red raw after Poppyâs slap. âI wouldnât do that, Poppy. Getting shot isnât as painless as the movies make it seem,â He offered her a smile, a soft one that only she was ever privy to. âYouâre not crazy. Youâre not dead. Iâm here. Max is here too. I donât have all the details but something has gone wrong and well, Iâm here to help.â
There was probably some rational explanation; Charlie didnât have it at that moment though. He was like a newborn babe, experiencing the world, the warmth and the light for the first time. Yet he remembered everything. He remembered the smell of bagels, the constant tears of his mother, the words of Keats and the way he felt about Penelope James. Even in death or afterlife or wherever the hell he was, his heart always belonged to her. He took several steps forward and placed his hands on either side of her cheek.
âI had to come back to you, whilst Iâve got the chance.â
âFuck.â As much as Penelope was a fighter by heart, with Charlie or his ghost, she felt the storm inside of her come to a calm. Dropping the arm that held the revolver, she put it back into safety mode, gazing at him with only conflict in her eyes. None of this made any logical sense. There was no rationality behind any of this and the fact that she could feel⊠his hands felt cold. Still, how could she know this was indeed Charlie Decker? The ghost showed no ill intent as she stood there before him in her pajamas, not an uncommon thing while he was alive.
Part of her wanted to give in, but the part that won, for now, pulled her back, cautious and afraid. âYou⊠you donât get to do that. Fuck. I need a cigarette.â Stepping back to put distance between her and her dead first love, Penelope spoke into her phone, âMeet me at our spot. Make sure everyone else is okay⊠bring Danny.â
Then her line went dead.
Mordechai had already begun a stumbling dash out of the den, calling uselessly back to Poppy as she called his name, her tone more distressed each time. He could have sworn he'd heard- but no, it couldn't be! Danny was keeping up with him, and that's another hint towards it being a hallucination because Danny could never keep up with his sprint when he was alive. He almost came to a complete standstill in the middle of the street when she said she'd caught his hallucinations. And, is that a thing, is that possible? But then Charlie's voice was back and Mordechai straight up tripped over his own feet and face planted into the street, Danny's sympathetic hiss loud in his ears. He took a moment to breathe and swallow back the bile threatening to rise in his throat, and then he grabbed up his phone- and the screen is cracked even more, great- just in time for her to summon him-them-to their spot. He didn't even get a chance to respond before she hung up, and he was left staring dumbly down the street with his phone still held to his ear.
"Soooo," Danny piped up from behind him, rocking back and forth on his heels and toes with his hands behind his back. "We get to go see Poppy?"
Silence. Mordechai turned to stare blankly at his baby brother, waiting for an answer to fall into his lap. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he reached out to the boy. Danny happily took advantage of the outstretched arm and ducked under it, latching around Mordechai's torso and smashing his face into his chest. The older of the two stiffened, breath hitching and hands twitching uselessly before he practically melted, folding over his baby brother and holding him tight.
"What the hell is this?" He breathed, his voice cracked and wavering.
"I don't know, but 'm not exactly upset either." Danny whispered into his chest, not letting go. Even with the changes-he's so cold, he feels solid but it's still like I'd slip through if I pushed hard enough, his chest ain't movin' 'cause he's not fuckin' breathin'- hugging Danny was like coming home in the best of ways.
The infant giggled in his sleep and Mordechai's responding smile caused his lip to break open again from his father's slap earlier, but he paid it no mind.
"I'll never leave you."
'I Promise.'
~~~
"-ckyâŠ"
The world was nothing but streaks and blurs of color as he slowly pulled himself from the darkness.
"-ecky. Wake u-"
The floor was cold and dirty, newspapers and rags strewn under and around him in a mock of comfort. The blankets were moldy.
"-cky come on."
The needle was itching from where it was still in his arm, and he reached blindly to take it out.
"Decky I'm serious, wake the fuck up!"
A slap against his cheek finally had him opening his eyes and lurching into a sitting position, hand going for the knife in his back pocket. He paused halfway there when the face before him finally solidified and came together in his vision. He then promptly turned to the side and got rid of what little food was in his stomach.
Before him sat Daniel Boaz, dressed in Mordechai's old beaten Serpent jacket that he had grown out of, a dark green t-shirt and gray jeans. Mordechai's old boots were on his feet.
Just like the day he died.
To wrap up the macabre little hallucination, if you looked past the curls that fell over his forehead, a small hole was right in the middle just above his brows.
Noticing his gaze, the younger boy's face twisted in embarrassment as he frantically brushed the curls with his fingers to cover more of his forehead. "S-sorry! I thought I had it covered up! But ya also shouldn't stare! S'rude!" The boy stuttered as Mordechai just stared with wide eyes.
"Wh...at?" Mordechai croaked.
"I said starin's rude. Ya taught me that keepin' your eyes down kept ya safe, 'member?"
Mordechai just stared.
"C'mon Decky-" the name made him flinch, and Danny's frown grew. "What? Why are you flinchin'? It's me." He sounded hurt, and that tone from him practically set fire to his previously put out brotherly instincts.
"N-no it's not you! I just haven't used that name since y-" he froze mid explanation as he realized what he was about to say, voice going quiet and shaky. "What is this?"
"UmâŠ'm not exactly sure?" Danny sat back on his heels from where he'd been kneeling. "I just kinda woke up next to ya a lil' bit ago, been tryin'a wake ya up for a while now. Thought ya might've...y'know."
"...Oh," was the eloquent reply. "Um...well I didn't," he reassured weakly. "But I ain't sure m'not still trippin'."
"No no it's me!" Danny chirped excitedly. "It's not just me either! I think it was a lot of us, actually."
"A...lot of ya."
"Yeah! Y'know," he wiggled his fingers and made a spooky moaning noise. "the gravestone crew."
"RightâŠ"
"Anyway! Where're Poppy an' Jade? And Sonny? I'm guessin' since you're usin' again you an' Lanie broke up, so maybe I'll visit her myself later, but I really wanna see everyone so- what are ya doin'?"
The phone was already up to Mordechai's ear, the ringing loud in the silent drug den as Danny stared at him petulantly.
Buried under a pile of clothes, Penelopeâs phone began to ring a generic ringtone. She wasnât one to go out of her way to find a ringtone for people, regardless of how close she was with them. There were folks that put sentimental value in actions like that, but she just saw her phone as a means to contact someone or be contacted. She wasnât even a romantic and more often than not when people flirted with her, it went over her head. It did not help that she wasnât looking for affection and nostalgia, either. Not since Charlie died.
Laying on the bed in a daze, not really aware if she fell asleep or not or if she had been staring at the ceiling the whole night, Poppy grumbled to herself when the insufferable ring resonated in her bedroom. Sluggishly, she picked herself up and scanned her room, which was slowly but surely returning to a healthy and clean state, with clothes folded on her bed, belongings and books in their designated areas, and the sight of the floor once more. Still, she had a few piles of clothes to deal with, one pile to donate, one pile to toss, and another pile of âmaybesâ that her sister would be great at convincing her what to toss and what to keep.
Following the sound, crawling on her knees, she dug in one of the piles, with mild struggle. After making the other person wait for a few seconds, she mutterily answered the line, not checking who it was on the other side, âHello?â
"Pops thank god, I think I'm fuckin' losin' it here," Mordechai answered in a rush as he struggled to stand up, freezing when he felt the hallucination of his brother helping him. "I-I think my last hit was laced or somethin' cause I'm seeing Boychik and he just helped me fuckin' stand up." He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, feel his blood heating in his veins as his nerves went alright in panic.
"It's not a hallucination, Decky!" Danny cried from where he threw his older brother's arm over his shoulder. "It's really me, come on!"
He clenched the phone tighter and let out a small whimper. "It's so fuckin' real Pops."
âWhat are you on about?â Poppy rubbed her face, contemplating how early it was or late. What time was it even? Well, regardless if the sun was up or not, none of that mattered. Her friend was having a mental breakdown. âDo you need me to come over? Are youââ She hadnât even registered half of the things Decky said, but she did hear a small voice on the other line. ââDo you have someone over?â
Boychik.
âor are you just missing Danny?â After picking herself up, Penelope put her phone on speaker, followed up by placing it on her bed. As she waited for Mordechaiâs response, she stretched her arms, legs, and body, not knowing if this was a moment she should panic and rush to his street or be calm, cool, and collected, because he needed that from her. There was no point in having two people freaking the fuck out because of anxiety or grief or whatever mental issues they both had.
"I'm always missin' 'im Pops, I'm just usually not seein' 'im too."
âJesus woman; after everything you still donât lock your window? Youâre a mad bitch, Poppy.â
Charlie Decker tumbled through the open sash window as he had done from the age of five until the day he died when he was eighteen. He crashed down to the floor as he always did, never understanding how tall and lanky he actually was. Every single time he entered the window he caught his stupid big feet.
He hadnât aged a day; he looked exactly like he did on that awful day all those years ago, save one thing; the leather jacket that now hung on the back of Penelopeâs desk chair. His jet black hair was loose over his face and his fingers were adorned with rings (Decker did like his hot topic bling). His black jeans and Doc Martens were a little bit dirty and his faded band t-shirt was stained with likely cream cheese. As he sprang back up to his full height, Charlieâs face scrunched up as he caught wind of a foul stench.
âIt smells like ass in here.â He wandered over to the bed and took a seat on the edge. âIs thatâŠ? Stale bagels? How could you waste such a gift?â
In times like these, people had three responses. Fight. Flight. Or Freeze. The voice she had heard come from the window had grown faint over the last year, but still she could remember it like it was yesterday. With wide eyes, she eyed the boy in front of her and the first thing her mind could think of wasâŠ
Slap!
Caught up in a nightmare or a dream, Penelope was quick to grab her phone and not take in the boy that should be dead. Instead, she ran to the bathroom, locked the door, and ran into her sisterâs room. In complete denial, she convinced herself there was a stranger in her room.
âUhhhhâŠ. M-mordechai.â As if seeing Charlie wasnât painful enough, her older sister came out of the closet holding some of her untouched, lonesome clothes.
âYou guys seriously havenât touched anything here. Nothingâs changed, aside from the occasional dust bunnies. Poppy, where's my blue dress? You know the one you wore junior year when you wanted to confessââ
MaxâŠ
âMORDECHAI!â Alarms setting off, the first thing Poppy thought of was where the nearest firearm was. Her dad had them hidden throughout the house but the nearest would be her parents' room. Mad dashing, she bolted out of one room, going down the hall, and entering the other, locking the door. Why did her parents have to be at work now?!
Swiftly she searched her momâs dresser until she found the revolver, as she did so she instructed her friend, âWe need to meet. Now. Whatever you caught is spreading. I, Iâm seeing⊠what the fuck is going on? This has to be a dream.â Taking the gun off of its safety, there was a moment where Poppy contemplated shooting herself. That would force herself to wake up but instead she heard a sound and pointed the gun straight to where it was coming from.
Charlie stood by the door with his hands raised. The side of his face was red raw after Poppyâs slap. âI wouldnât do that, Poppy. Getting shot isnât as painless as the movies make it seem,â He offered her a smile, a soft one that only she was ever privy to. âYouâre not crazy. Youâre not dead. Iâm here. Max is here too. I donât have all the details but something has gone wrong and well, Iâm here to help.â
There was probably some rational explanation; Charlie didnât have it at that moment though. He was like a newborn babe, experiencing the world, the warmth and the light for the first time. Yet he remembered everything. He remembered the smell of bagels, the constant tears of his mother, the words of Keats and the way he felt about Penelope James. Even in death or afterlife or wherever the hell he was, his heart always belonged to her. He took several steps forward and placed his hands on either side of her cheek.
âI had to come back to you, whilst Iâve got the chance.â
âFuck.â As much as Penelope was a fighter by heart, with Charlie or his ghost, she felt the storm inside of her come to a calm. Dropping the arm that held the revolver, she put it back into safety mode, gazing at him with only conflict in her eyes. None of this made any logical sense. There was no rationality behind any of this and the fact that she could feel⊠his hands felt cold. Still, how could she know this was indeed Charlie Decker? The ghost showed no ill intent as she stood there before him in her pajamas, not an uncommon thing while he was alive.
Part of her wanted to give in, but the part that won, for now, pulled her back, cautious and afraid. âYou⊠you donât get to do that. Fuck. I need a cigarette.â Stepping back to put distance between her and her dead first love, Penelope spoke into her phone, âMeet me at our spot. Make sure everyone else is okay⊠bring Danny.â
Then her line went dead.
Mordechai had already begun a stumbling dash out of the den, calling uselessly back to Poppy as she called his name, her tone more distressed each time. He could have sworn he'd heard- but no, it couldn't be! Danny was keeping up with him, and that's another hint towards it being a hallucination because Danny could never keep up with his sprint when he was alive. He almost came to a complete standstill in the middle of the street when she said she'd caught his hallucinations. And, is that a thing, is that possible? But then Charlie's voice was back and Mordechai straight up tripped over his own feet and face planted into the street, Danny's sympathetic hiss loud in his ears. He took a moment to breathe and swallow back the bile threatening to rise in his throat, and then he grabbed up his phone- and the screen is cracked even more, great- just in time for her to summon him-them-to their spot. He didn't even get a chance to respond before she hung up, and he was left staring dumbly down the street with his phone still held to his ear.
"Soooo," Danny piped up from behind him, rocking back and forth on his heels and toes with his hands behind his back. "We get to go see Poppy?"
Silence. Mordechai turned to stare blankly at his baby brother, waiting for an answer to fall into his lap. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he reached out to the boy. Danny happily took advantage of the outstretched arm and ducked under it, latching around Mordechai's torso and smashing his face into his chest. The older of the two stiffened, breath hitching and hands twitching uselessly before he practically melted, folding over his baby brother and holding him tight.
"What the hell is this?" He breathed, his voice cracked and wavering.
"I don't know, but 'm not exactly upset either." Danny whispered into his chest, not letting go. Even with the changes-he's so cold, he feels solid but it's still like I'd slip through if I pushed hard enough, his chest ain't movin' 'cause he's not fuckin' breathin'- hugging Danny was like coming home in the best of ways.