A/N: 'Please mate...don't. He don't deserve it, he's right, he's just like me...I used to be lonely and angry, just imagine what I'd be like at his age' – Matt
Requested by: my rather nutty and eccentric cousin, apparently Matt needs some love? This incidentally is my first time writing a request.
Matt had never had friends before; perhaps that was why he turned down his chance of crossing over? But what happens next? What happens to the boy only visible to the werewolf and the vampire? What happens to the disappearing boy?
Rated T: Although I've actually been rather good with my language in this one.
Disclaimer: I own nothing that bores any resemblance whatsoever to Becoming Human or Being Human for that matter.
Disappearing Boy
It didn't take Matt long to realise that he hadn't given crossing over as much thought as he should have; as much thought as the idea deserved, although he couldn't really bring himself to regret his decision.
It had been almost two months since his door had come and gone, taking his killer with it and leaving behind his shattered soul and battered body. The school had been thrown into chaos, police scuttling around the halls, forensics hauled up in the gym and news reporters camped outside the entrance.
Turns out Christa had been right, you go from missing to murdered and people suddenly start to take things seriously.
He didn't care about any of it, the flowers, the cards, the doctor who balloons that had been left at the gates by people who hadn't bothered to give him the time of day while he was alive. It was meaningless, a way to make themselves feel better when they didn't really deserve to feel anything in the first place.
He didn't care about any of that.
What he did care about was his parents, going from missing to murdered had been hardest for them, discovering his body had made his death feel...that much more real than it had before, and in doing so he'd taken away any hope his parents had of finding him alive. He'd felt strangely guilty about that but after talking to Christa he'd realised that although things were painful now, having some closure was probably better for his parents...in the long run.
He remembered his funeral, after the police had released his body. It was an odd experience, being at your own funeral, watching people cry for you when you were standing right there with them. His mother wasn't the woman he remembered, she looked drawn and exhausted, her eyes unfocused through her tears. She'd looked his way a few times, starred at him in such a way that almost made him believe she could see him...but she couldn't and he knew better than to hope she could. His father hadn't faired any better and it had made him question his right to be there...after all you weren't really supposed to be at your own funeral, were you?
Christa and Adam had been there, at his request, standing quietly at the back, along with Steve McKenna and a few other students that he suspected just wanted the afternoon off school.
He'd never really had friends before, but he'd made friends with Christa and Adam. He still wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, he'd been invisible to Christa before his death and Adam didn't seem to like him all that much. Maybe it was the whole supernatural thing that sealed the deal?
They were what he thought about the most when he thought about crossing over, Christa more so than Adam...it felt weird to say it but they'd had some good laughs while trying to solve his murder.
Being with the two of them had made him happy.
It almost made him wonder how long it would last.
On some level, practically every level, he'd known that he'd never stood a chance with Christa. She had character...he didn't, or at least whatever character he did have wasn't entirely compatible with hers. She was strong, a high achiever with a winning smile that refused to take crap from anyone. He wasn't any of those things; though he did think he was getting better at standing his ground...he was shy and unpopular, the creepy loser that had watched her through the changing room grating.
Though Christa seemed to have forgiven for that.
He could still dream he supposed, though it would probably be better if he tried to come to terms with his feelings. Deep down he realised that being her friend was all he'd ever be for her and he was fine with that...at least he would be.
When he thought he was moving on he'd tried to nudge Adam in the right direction, much as they denied it he swore blind that he could see something between them, why else would Brady Mulligan have been so quick to believe they were going out? He saw it in the little things, the things they did without even realising it that gave them away. They fought like cat and dog but there was definitely some kind of screw-up flirting in their somewhere.
Like he said he'd tried to nudge Adam in the right direction before but all that had done was made him realise that it would take nothing less than a bloody hard shove for them both to swallow their pride and actually move forward.
He'd encouraged them when he thought he'd be moving on; but now he wasn't so sure. But he couldn't really change his mind, he'd opened up a can of worms and he needed to do the right thing and see it through, whatever the outcome might be. He wouldn't be able to make her happy and after everything she'd been through, the scratches and the scars, she deserved to be happy...and that thought was what he held onto when he was trying to convince himself to do the decent thing and step aside.
The door burst open, and Christa padded in angrily from the hall, Adam stumbling in behind her. They were arguing, he could tell by Christa's clipped tone. Christa glanced up at him to acknowledge she'd seen him before whipping round to throw one final unpleasant comment at Adam.
"What 'are you twos 'arguing about now?"
"We're not arguing," Christa snapped plainly, shuffling past him and heading towards one of the stools that had yet to be stacked. She sank down onto it, slamming her notebook roughly onto the table.
"Christa's just upset she can't take a joke, I think she enjoys being an uptight, bad-tempered bitch."
"Go to hell Adam."
"That's actually a lot more difficult than you might think, especially with me being undead and all," he answered easily, slipping into the seat next to her. He turned to face Matt, waving a hand in his direction. "Hey Fat Boy Slim, you'll back me up on this...Christa really needs to get a sense of humour."
Matt always felt a little uncomfortable when they insisted on pulling him into one of their spats, saying nothing didn't seem to work, and whatever he did say usually ended up being the wrong thing.
"What did you do 'this time mate?"
Adam shook his head.
"Should've known you'd take her side."
"You shouldn't drag Matt into this, it's not his fault he has mildly more sense than you do," Christa hissed sharply.
"That's real nice; what is this Christa...time of the month?"
She glared at him, scooting her chair to the edge of the table. He followed her, his stool scraping noisily across the floor and Matt could see this rising irritation building behind Christa's eyes. Her hands rested lightly on the tabletop but he could see she was edging to hit the obliviously ignorant vampire.
"Look at this," Matt said quickly, wanting more than anything to defuse the situation, he knew that if anything would set Christa off it was alluding to the wolf; it was still (might always be) a touchy subject for her...Matt couldn't really figure out why Adam picked up on it as much as he did. He turned towards the table, squinting at the dowdy grey mug that sat there. It twitched slightly; enough to get Christa's attention...Adam's soon followed. Matt inclined his head as the mug began to shake and watched as it suddenly slid across the table, clattering nosily to the floor. "See? Before I had to use me hands."
"Yeah," Adam replied drearily, leaning forward on the desk. "That's real impressive."
Christa smacked his shoulder. Hard...
"Wanker," she hissed coolly, her voice softening as she turned to Matt. "How long has this been going on?"
He had the decency to look shame-faced.
"A couple a' weeks."
"Since your funeral?" he nodded and she shook her head tiredly. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"
"You were busy...it weren't that important."
She didn't look utterly convinced.
"And you're sure about that? I thought we'd moved past you hiding things from us."
He didn't respond and Christa did her best to hold back the accusing remark that settled on her tongue. Adam seemed to notice that they weren't getting anywhere and if he was honest with himself he did feel a little guilty about badgering Christa, he decided now would be as good a time as any to jump in.
"So...come on then Fred Mumford, what else have you been up to that we don't know about?"
"It weren't like that," Matt fumbled urgently, pacing up and down in front of the desk to avoid looking at them. "It jus' sort 'a happened, I were sitting in here one day and things started movin' about...that were all."
Christa glared lightly, folding her arms irritably atop the table.
"So what were you doing exactly? Testing out your ghostly talents or did they run away with you for a bit?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you guys know anything?" Adam said exasperatedly, shaking his head in an overly patronising gesture. Christa scowled callously and Matt looked a little blank. "Guess it's Adam to the rescue...again, honestly what would you do without me?"
"I suppose you have to be good for something," Christa replied flatly.
Adam smirked.
"I'm good for a lot of things."
"I can imagine," she said dryly, a frown crossing her face. "Do you actually have something to say about this or do you just enjoy hearing yourself talk?"
"You've become a poltergeist," Adam explained heavily, turning his head slightly to face Matt, he could tell that he didn't understand as well as he should have and that irritated Adam a little...you'd think an obsessive Doctor Who fan would know all about ghosts. "It literally means 'noisy ghost', developing the ability to move inanimate objects, pass through walls and all that jazz...it's all on the web, you should look it up."
It was silent for a moment and Adam could see Christa twisting her fingers absently as she mauled over what he'd said. He knew she'd be the one who'd have questions, Matt seemed to take whatever you told him at face value and didn't really push too much for anything more...Christa on the other hand...
"So what does that mean for Matt exactly? Is this something we should be concerned about?"
Adam shrugged lightly.
"Right now it probably isn't too much of an issue. You said it was mostly little things, right?" Matt nodded; eyes wide. "Might be a good idea to keep an eye on it though...soon as desks and filing cabinets start flying about we've got ourselves a problem," he glanced over at Christa and the look she gave him was one of equal worry. "This means you've got to level with us Matt, no more of this secretive bullshit."
"Al' right."
Why did it never feel as if they were making progress?
"I don't understand," Christa sighed agitatedly, slamming her hands against the desk. "Something about your funeral must have set this off; it's all well and good now saying it's not a problem but what if something else happens that makes this whole thing worse?"
Matt wrung his fingers nervously, glancing between the two. He'd known he should have told them. As soon that first damned mug had gone careening across the room, but there was something oddly comforting about having the biggest news, something weirdly powerful about keeping such a defining secret.
Although now he realised just how stupid it had been to keep them in the dark, especially Adam; even Christa had acknowledged that he knew more about the supernatural than they did. They didn't have to like it but they were better off having Adam on side.
"Maybe there's some way I can channel it?"
Adam shrugged.
"I suppose it's possible, we find out what set it off and you stand a better chance of controlling your ghostly mumbo jumbo."
"And 'how do we do 'that."
"I've got connections," Adam drawled lazily. "One of them has got the whole Casper the friendly ghost thing down, she might know more...I told you about her...Annie, drop dead gorgeous with a body like..." he trailed off, tracing her silhouette with his hands, he caught sight of Christa's face and winked. "Don't worry Baby; I've only got eyes for you...the whole werewolf thing totally works for me. Annie was hot as hell but she kept popping up all over the place...scared the freaking shit out of me."
"Is poor little Adam afraid of ghosts?"
He smirked.
"No, I'm a forty-six year old vampire trapped in the body of a teenager. Guys like their privacy."
She scowled, turning away from him to flick through her notebook.
"You're disgusting."
Matt smiled, leaning against the desk in front on theirs. Christa might be a little rougher around the edges than she had been before, Adam might be a complete knob at times and he might be a fat Doctor Who fan with an egg obsession but together they somehow made it work. The three of them created a better chance at life for each other, which was no mean feat considering two of the three were already dead.
It might not be perfect, they didn't always get along and Adam and Christa seemed to be at each other's throats more often than not. But it worked for all of them and that's what he reminded himself of when he'd had a down day. Matt wasn't really sure how they'd ended up where they were now, he didn't really care; he just wished it would last a little bit longer.
He didn't know what would happen next, but he knew it was only a matter of time before something threw a spanner in the works and upset the delicate balance they'd created. It was all part of being a supernatural, things would never run smoothly...for any of them. There would always be something lurking in the darkness that bore them, waiting for its moment. No! He didn't know what came next; what would happen in the long run, whether his door would re-appear and he'd move on, whether Adam would stumble off the wagon or whether Christa would ever soften enough to be the girl she'd been before.
But right now...it was just the three of them...the supernatural trio against both worlds.
"You guys're th'e best mates I've ever h'ad."
Adam's voice was the one to answer him.
"Let's not get too mushy there big guy, it's definitely not cool and you don't need any more help with that," he paused, his eyes scanning over the two briefly. "You know what this means, right? The Poltergeist-ing, the unexpected bursts of supernatural power," Christa looked up from her notebook but didn't seem overly interested in what he had to say. "It means the Supernatural Monster Squad have got another mystery to solve."
Christa snickered, a genuine but somewhat short-lived smile flashing across her face.
"You're so corny, it's embarrassing."
"And yous 'thought my drawing were bad mate."
Adam didn't respond, turning his back on the two as they threw out the odd taunt about his outdated (and apparently relatively lame) TV references. It didn't bother him too much; it was nice in a way not to focus on the darkness...on the vampire, the werewolf and the ghost, and just be Adam, Christa and Matt for a little while.
Three teenagers that couldn't catch a break.
He glanced up at the clock above the white board, scraping his stool against the floor as he stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Right well I don't know about you kids but I've got better things to do with my Friday night than hang around the school."
"I hadn't realised you were so popular," Christa answered dully.
"What can I say? So many people so little time...but I guess that doesn't really matter too much," he trailed off, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "I could always make an exception for you Beautiful."
"Don't bother," she said haughtily. "I wouldn't want you to put yourself out."
"It's no trouble."
Adam had an answer for everything and it bugged the hell out of her. It amazed her sometimes that immature, dorky and frankly social outcast Adam had such a firm hold over his emotions...though she supposed that came from experience. In many ways his teenage bravado was just a convenient cover for the vampire, it meant Adam could crack jokes and pull pranks as a way of partly escaping the darker parts of his mind, to stop himself from getting too wrapped up in his problems.
Keeping things light when they could was good for the three of them.
"I should probably take off as well," Christa said eventually, turning to Matt as she gathered up her bag and stuffed her notebook under her arm. "You going to be alright?"
Matt didn't know what to say; it felt like he couldn't really trust anything he thought he knew anymore. Had felt like that for a long time but Christa and Adam? They had their own problems, and the last thing he wanted to do was become a burden to them. If they could deal with their supernatural bullshit then why couldn't he?
"Yeah."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
Adam shrugged, stretching a hand out for Christa.
"There's still a couple of teachers around...want to give them a show? Mr Swan looks like he's pretty close to arresting."
"I'd rather tear my own fingers off then hold your hand," she cocked her head to the side, and continued jeeringly. "Although tearing yours off sounds much more appealing."
He smirked, pulling back his hand and stuffing it in his pocket.
"You'll give in to me eventually."
"You're an idiot."
He chuckled.
"You so want me."
She glared at him, stalking off towards the door, muttering a quick goodbye to Matt. Adam wasn't far behind, making some deluded comment about being 'in there' as he passed by the bumbling ghost. He reached the door before Christa did, holding it open with one arm and gesturing her out.
"See you Monday Mumford," were Adam's parting words. "Try not to do anything stupid."
The smile that crossed Matt's face as he watched them leave was bittersweet, warm but painfully sober. He shook his head, shaking away thoughts he wished he didn't have; things might not be perfect but he had more going for him now than he'd ever had before.
He chose to focus on that, on Christa and Adam and how they encouraged him to be better.
The door creaked open again sometime later, and a plump middle aged teacher bustled in, her neatly polished shoes clicking loudly against the floor. She busied herself at the desk, collecting papers and stuffing them hastily into her briefcase. He stood in the corner, watching her, agonizingly aware that she'd never raise her head to look at him. He was tempted to make some noise, rustle a few papers and get her attention...but he wouldn't really gain anything from frightening Mr Roe's replacement.
He watched her silently as she moved around the desk, her foot scuffing at the mug on the floor. She bent down to pick it up, wiping it on her jacket and placing it back on the desktop before snatching up her case and hurrying out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her and the lights went out, plunging the room into the dying light of the afternoon sun through the cheap blinds that hung over the windows.
He was back to being invisible.
Neglected and alone in an empty classroom; in a soon to be empty school.
An apparition, the spirit of a boy who'd died long before his body had followed.
An aberration that existed on the edge of both worlds.
Without Christa and Adam he supposed that he didn't really exist at all, no one else could see him, could hear him and when they weren't around he spent most of his time wandering aimlessly around the school, listening in on people's conversations through want of something to do rather than genuine interest. They'd changed things for him...made his existence better...but it came at a price.
The aging grey mug shook ruthlessly on the table, gliding across the surface and hurtling violently towards the wall. The impact was quick and the mug shattered instantly, pieces of toothed porcelain falling dully to the floor. He stared lethargically at the shards, drawing an odd sort of satisfaction from the pieces.
He was back to being the Disappearing Boy.
Perhaps that's all he would ever be?
Now you see me, now you don't
Don't ask me where I'm at
Cause I'm a million miles away
Treated like a forbidden heel
Don't say my thoughts are not for real
Or you won't see me again
In that room I see her
I see her and she's with him
I turn and then I'm gone
Don't call me up cause I'm not home
My whereabouts are now unknown
I vanished from all your joy
I'm the disappearing boy
Lyrics courtesy of Green Day.
A/N: Review? I guess you could even go as far to say I actually had a little bit of fun writing this request. A Very little...but fun all the same.