A note to Kelly since I can't seem to get an email to her. Kelly wrote me saying:
hi lacey
i ma starting two new stories at the moment and i am try to get the others that need finishing.
i have read you laters story Mania and it is pretty good but why are you suddenly turning your characters gay? hey i don't mind people being gay but it can make over pepole feel a bit sick. why don't you put claire and Endri back together again? you do a great job with that bit.
kelly P.S. please email me back on this eamil adress.--
K. Heighway
I tried to email you back, Kelly, but there must be something wrong with your address and what I tried to send didn't go through. So I'll give you my reply here:
Hello Kelly! I'm glad to hear from you again! It's been a long time, and I hope you're doing well. I look forward to getting new chapters for the stories you haven't finished yet, and I also look forward to getting your new stories.
As for my characters in Mania being gay, they are not. I guess it may seem that they are, but there is a line between gay and strong bonds of friendship. They have not engaged in any homosexual acts like kissing on the lips or having sex, so they are not gay. There are a lot of stereotypes out there saying things like 'if two men hold hands, they must be gay'. Or 'if two men have an intimate conversation / hug / wipe each other's tears away / kiss each other anywhere (not including lips), they must be gay'. The only thing that makes a person gay is them actively engaging in sexul relations with another man. You can stereotype someone until you're blue in the face, but the only thing that makes them truly homosexual is them engaging in the act. And obviously, Endri and Kyle do not do that. I'm sorry you seem to be confused about it. Claire and Endri will not be getting back together in the story either. Claire is the one who triggered Endri's insanity. Why would he want to be with her again? He is angry with her. I hope you understand now.
I hope to hear from you again soon!
Lacey
I hope this also clarifies any "doubts" about those characters' "prefrencess" that people seem to have. I guess I don't speak clearly enough when I say "friendship". I'm not offended by people thinking that Endri and Kyle might be gay, but I'm getting pretty tired of repeating myself over and over that they aren't. Cripes, maybe I SHOULD write a slash story about them. 99
Spencers13 – March 2003–March 2004
R – Drama – Angst
Chapter Fourteen – A Faith Lost
Beetlejuice popped into Lydia's apartment in New York and floated about, looking for her. His searches halted in the bathroom where his beautiful human lover was currently engaging in a hot, relaxing shower. His footsteps were silent and stealthy as he snuck up on her, in the mood for a good prank. He held his breath and the snicker inside and stopped right before the closed shower curtain, listening to the water run over his beautiful, naked human. The wonderful thoughts almost made him falter and announce his presence without a scare.
But the opportunity was too good to pass up.
In a swift motion, the ghoul popped his head through the curtain and shouted, "Boo!"
Lydia screamed and backed against the shower wall until she realized just who had almost given her a heart attack. She swung her fist, trying to punch him right in that obnoxious face, but he pulled his head back through the curtain before she could make contact, and her fist smacked into the plastic instead.
"Oh, BJ, you jerk!"
Beetlejuice cackled. "You know it!" He listened to her curse him out for a moment before saying, "Ya know, babes, I woulda figured you'd be used to crap like that by now."
"No one likes being startled, Beej," Lydia grumbled.
He just shrugged.
"What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were going to be 'busy' all day."
The ghoul checked his red fingernails with a critical eye. "Turns out, I wasn't. You doin' anything today?"
She hummed in thought, running her lithe fingers through her wet hair lazily. "Nothing that I can think of. Why?"
"Good, 'cause we're goin' out for dinner."
"Really? Oh, that's so sweet, Beej. Why?"
Beetlejuice shrugged and put his hands into his pockets, propping himself back onto nothing. "Why not? Can't I treat my girlfriend nice?"
"What did you do?"
"Nothing!" he shouted indignantly.
Lydia laughed. "Okay. Let's goas soon as I'm done with my shower."
"You mean as soon as I'm done helping you with your shower." He grinned evilly and jumped through the curtain, leaving all of his clothes behind to fall on the floor.
Lydia squealed and Beetlejuice cackled behind the curtain. Silence save the running shower fell over the bathroom, then male and female giggles filled the area.
It was bright outside with the Neitherworld sun shining and the atmosphere pleasantly warm. It was a little dry out that day, but nothing anyone couldn't handle. After all, what did it matter when everyone was dead? Everyone milled about as always, doing their own little things and not caring what anyone else was doing unless it involved them in some way. It was how the Neitherworld usually worked on any given day of any given week of any given month, and so on.
Inside the rightmost upstairs bedroom in the Roadhouse, the curtains were drawn tightly until only a crack of the sunlight without seeped through and lit a seam along the wall opposite the window. The room was darkened considerably so as to need a light turned on within to be able to see anything clearly.
A shadowed figure moved quietly across the crooked, wooden floorboards of the room toward the window, reaching up and trying to close that annoying seam of light that broke through the curtains. No matter how it tried, the fabric would not stay closed, so eventually, it gave up and walked away.
The figure opened the closet door and disappeared into its inky depths only long enough to find the light cord and pull on it. Able to see clearly with the help of a single naked bulb, Endri bent down until he sat on the floor of his closet cross-legged. His hands reached out and pulled boxes, plastic bags, and about two pairs of shoes out of the way in his quest to clear the right side of the enclosure. The floor there had an oddly shaped plank of wood that looked as though it simply rested there and wasn't nailed down to anything.
Not long after agreeing to move into the Roadhouse, Endri had discovered the loose piece of wood, and used it and the small empty space underneath to all his advantage. In there, he kept his most prized possessions: the things he wanted no one else to know he had or to get a hold of.
Carefully, he lifted the plank away and stood it up against the wall next to the hole it created. He reached in and lifted out a small wooden box, only about three inches square and one inch high. It was plain, without even a stain to darken and finish the wood. He lifted the lid off and gazed fondly inside, seeing the pendant his mother created for him resting comfortably on a piece of cotton. Gently, he traced one finger over the ancient-looking carving of a beetle and around the oval edge where delicate swirling patterns resided. The beetle had always been a symbol of his family, and Endri rather liked the style it appeared in.
On a whim, he lifted the pendant from its box and hooked it around his neck, letting it slip down between the ever diminishing muscles on his chest to dangle there elegantly. He fisted it into his palm reverently and closed his eyes, allowing a small smile to drift over his lips.
"Mama" he whispered so softly, his mouth hardly even moved to utter the syllables. I wish I could have known you.
After a moment of silent tribute to his permanently absent mother, he released the pendant to let it dangle freely and closed the empty box and set it aside. His hand went back into the secret compartment and fished around for a moment before he came back up with another box, that one long, about a foot, and several inches high. It was made of highly polished pine with a silver latch and hinges. On top was one design burned into the wood, a simple scroll that wasn't anything worth staring at. The rest of the box was smooth and unblemished and highly cared for.
The ghost ran his fingers over the scroll on top slowly and stroked the polished wood softly, removing a light layer of dust with every swipe of his fingers. When the entire box had been wiped clean, he rested it to his lap and dusted his fingers off on his blue/grey sleeping pants, the only thing he wore at the moment. He felt like lounging today.
When his hands were clean, he took up the box again and so very gently unhooked the latch. It was obvious, whatever that box contained, it was worth more to Endri than anything. The lid was lifted, and green eyes alighted to what they had been searching for from the beginning: one simple, white envelope, a little yellowed and worn from the passage of time and handling. Its paper had softened as well and was covered with more than a few crinkles. It was a long envelope, pregnant from its contents that more than likely had been removed and replaced one too many times.
Endri reached in and gently removed it, closing the box once it was in his hand. He set the box aside and turned the aging papers over in his hand to view the plain back. Written with black pen in the center was one word in small, but neat handwriting: "Endri". The ghost's eyes glossed a little at reading his name on that envelope once more.
He already knew what the pages inside contained, had almost memorized the words on them from reading over them again and again since he had been given it. But something was bothering him to pull it out of its hiding place and read it again. Perhaps it was just for nostalgia, because every time he looked over the parchments inside the envelope, he would feel a little homesick. But what he was homesick for, he had no clue. Perhaps it was just want for the past. Maybe he wanted what he once had but knew could no longer have.
Such was the way with the advancement of time. It hurt, sometimes.
Gently, Endri turned the envelope back over and opened it, taking out the several folded pages it contained and unfolding them to run his eyes over the greeting.
Endri
Such a simple greeting, really—just a name, no comma, no "Dear" or anything like that. Simple. Such was what Endri expected from Kyle at the time. The human had only written the letter a few days after they met and had no reason to be more familiar than simply using the ghost's name.
Endri could still almost smell the ink of the pen, and was glad the extensive letter wasn't written in pencil. It probably would have faded by now.
Trying not to get distracted, the ghost ran his eyes over one line at a time not really reading, but looking at the words and letters. He was glad Kyle's handwriting was clear and easy to read. It was printed because the human never really liked to write in cursive, and the letters were small and precise, almost like a personalized font printed from a computer.
The date the letter was written was up in the upper right corner, "May 10, 1992". Such a long time ago, it seemed. It had been sixteen years since the letter had come into his possession, and at times, he wished he had never found it on the pillow of the bed he had been sleeping in at the time. But still, he liked to read over it once in a while, just for old time's sake. And this time, something had been bothering him to look at it again, so he gave in to temptation.
May 10, 1992
Endri
I know you probably think this is a little odd, me writing like this to you when we hardly even know each other. I just met you about four days ago, but from the small amount of time we've spent together, I've been able to judge your character pretty well. Don't get me wrong, this isn't meant to be rude or pry into any private life I'm sure you have. But I want you to understand where I'm coming from, and why I'm writing this letter to you, and why I've done what I've done.
Now comes the classic line: By the time you read this, I'll be dead. Lame huh? But it's true, no matter how dumb and cliché it sounds. Please don't think that any of this is your fault, because really, how could it be? You're a really nice guy; I want you to know that first and foremost. You also seem like a respectable person, someone who takes very good care of what he owns and cares about. You're also a very deep person, someone I would probably really get along with and enjoy long, deep discussions with if things were different.
I have a feeling, that if things weren't the way they were, if I didn't have to die right now, we would have been very good friends, best friends, even. And in a small way, I regret not getting to know you more before I killed myself.
Now, you're probably thinking, "Why would he do such a thing! Didn't he have anything to live for! Shouldn't he try working out his problems? What could be so bad!" And I'll answer each one in turn.
I'm doing this because I can't stand life anymore. As you may or may not know, my family, my wife and little daughter, were killed just a year ago. One year ago today, actually. I thought I was going to die right then, when I found them, to tell the truth. I don't even want to describe what I saw, and I'm very glad you never asked about the pictures on the walls and fireplace mantle. It would have hurt too much to talk about. But that's just the way you are, you know. It was almost like you knew I was in pain, and so you didn't say anything or do anything to make me remember it. You've been a nice distraction, and I want to thank you for that.
Where was I? Oh, right. My girls were my life. When they died, I died. I've just been a walking, talking, breathing corpse for the past year, and I'm getting sick of it. I've tried my hand at moving on, of leaving the past behind me, but it seems impossible for me. There's probably things in your past that you can't let go of too, so you probably understand where I'm coming from.
Actually, I tried killing myself before I even met you. A few days after it happened, and things started to settle in—the accusations, the prying questions, the searches, the hateful glares of "how could he do such a horrid thing to his own family", I kind of snapped a little. Okay, a lot. I went into a rage, or so my friend Frank told me because, honestly, I don't remember any of it. I was crying, screaming, thrashing, denying everything, throwing a general shit fit, you know. And then I found a knife in the kitchen. Frank was there the whole time, and I don't know if I'm grateful that he was or not. I tried to stab myself. Had that knife only inches from my heart. I really wanted to die. I wanted the pain. I wanted my vision to blur and go black like I've heard dying described before. But, dammit, Frank had a good hold on my arm and wouldn't let me take the plunge, so to speak. He made me promise I wouldn't kill myself. He made me promise to give life a chance and to work through my problems and not take the easy way out. At least for a year. And, dammit, promises had always been a weakness of mine. Once I made a promise, I never went back on it. I've never broken a promise in my life, and I wasn't about to start, so I let Frank take the knife, and I gave up.
I really did try to make things better for myself, as I said before, but nothing ever worked for very long. Eventually, the police and all the officials left me alone, but that's when everyone else started moving in. I was fired from my job because they didn't want a murderer working for them anymore. That forced me to start selling my inventions to the patent office or any company that would produce them so I could pay my bills. No one in town would hire me because they all thought I did it. Oh, I had a few friends that believed I was innocent, but not enough to sway the judgement of the entire county. Everywhere I went, all I got was accusing glares, words whispered behind my back, and so on, and so on. Too many people want me dead and not enough want me alive. I don't even want to be alive. It just hurts too much.
And so, I've been basically alone and drunk for the past six months because I had to be sober for the first six months when they held the trials and drug tests and searches.
And now I bet you're wondering, "What does any of this have to do with me? Why did a man take me into his home only to kill himself a few days later? Is he trying to make it look like the vagrant did it?" No offense, please. I don't think that way about you at all. It's justyou knowwhat you might think. Okay, I'll stop before I piss you off. Isn't that funny, though? A dead man pissing someone off? I can't help but laugh as I write that.
Let me explain. For a few months now, these jackass real estate brokers have been trying to attain my property so they can make money off of it for themselves. They argue that it's too big for little old me to be living here all by myself. The land is to expansive for a single man to keep up. Sell now, while the selling's good! Yeah. Right. This house and the land have belonged to three generations of Benningtons, and I'll be damned if I let people like them get a hold of it and rip it up and sell it off.
That is where you come in, Endri, my friend. I'd like to depart, thinking of you as my friend, if you don't mind. You seem responsible. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders. You seem to know the value of right and wrong, good and evil. And I just plain like you.
I hereby leave all of my property, house, and everything contained therein to you, Endri. I knowI know deep downthat you will take care of my things for me. I know you won't sell to the highest bidder. I know you won't leave and let my property to rot. You aren't that kind of person. I would hope that you find yourself a nice, beautiful woman and settle down with her and raise a family in my house. Those rooms and walls were meant to have laughter and joy in them, not empty wails of despair from long dead ghosts (even though I hate to use that word). I don't want to have to haunt an empty, falling down house. I want to be able to float through every once in a while and see you and your family living happily.
I leave you with no expenses except for utilities and maybe property taxes. The house was left to me with no payments since it was built by my great grandfather's hands. There is a safe hidden in the living room wall behind the TV. The combination is 4-2-26. In it, you will find all of the money I had saved in the bank that I took out yesterday, about $20,000. It should give you a nice, healthy start. You can also have my Jeep. It's paid off as well. Now you won't have to walk everywhere.
I wish you could see this goofy grin on my face right now. It makes me feel so good to be able to give all of that to you. Like you'll really appreciate it. And I just know you will. In all honesty, I think you deserve it for as nice as you were to me when we met. And plus, I'm giving it all to you because I have no beneficiaries or relatives left in my family. I'm the last Bennington in my bloodline. That alone causes me such pain.
Now a few requests. My body is probably upstairs in the master bedroom bathroom. I ask that it be buried next to my wife and little girl. I don't want anything special. Just put me in a box and throw me in the ground. As long as I'm next to them, I'll be eternally happy. Make sure you show the DA and police and judges and whoever else this letter. I don't want any blame landing on you because of me.
I also apologize for any trouble anyone puts you through because of me. Don't let people scare you off, even if they don't accept you right away. They didn't accept me either. I hope what I've given you won't be a burden, but I know you have to be a resourceful person, and I know you'll be able to make it through any tough times that follow my death.
For the short time I've known you, you seem to be one of a kind. I've never met someone quite like you, Endrieven your name is unique. And even though I never got a look at your eyes, I'm sure they're full of wisdom and kindness, because that's what I can see from you all the time. You try to hide it behind hardness and a stoic attitude, but I can tell. You're a warm, kind soul that just needs a good friend and someone to believe in them. Well, I believe in you, Endri. I don't know your past, I hardly know much about you at all, actually, but that isn't stopping me from believing in you.
Like I said before, I almost wish it didn't have to be like this. I would like to get to know you and be your friend. Words can't describe how grateful I am of you, that you saved me from a sound beating, that you provided such good company for me in my last days, that you are hopefully accepting to inherit everything I own. I hope that you will think of me fondly, and remember me years from now as that nice white-haired guy that gave you a new start.
There I go grinning again.
It's getting late in the day, and my time is coming to an end. But I'm not scared. I welcome what is to come. And maybe, just maybe, whenever you die, we'll be able to meet again and finally get to know each other and be the friends I'm sure we were destined to be. In the meantime, take care of yourself, and I wish you only the best.
Your friend,
Kyle Gavan Bennington
Light tears trailed down Endri's cheeks and dripped onto his forearms and lap. The overwhelming emotions he felt swirled and wouldn't allow him much movement or thought beyond what the precious letter contained. Such compliments and warm feelings his best friend had showered him with through those words written so long ago—they had always choked him up. But now, that time was the first time he had been able to release the deep feelings that always came with reading the letter.
Carefully, he shuffled the pages back into their original order, but kept the last page on top for the time being. He continually stared at the closing and the name signed. He was such a fool back then.
He had found the letter the same night he saved Kyle's life, but it was only after he had done so. If he had found it before he saved his friend, the man would have died by the time he finished reading it. He was very grateful things worked out the way they did, or he wouldn't be where he was now, with Kyle still alive, and they the best of friends, even brothers now.
Again, he told himself he was a fool back when they first met. When he first read over the letter later on that evening when Kyle was safely in bed and no longer posing any danger to himself, he read over it with detached reserve. He remembered feeling a little awed that the human entrusted him with his possessions, but that was the farthest he allowed his emotions to travel. And when he read over the closing, "Your friend" he never even paid it any mind.
Kyle had stated his friendship way back then, but all Endri wanted was a professional partnership in his search for the keys to the Worm Gates and a way to the Neitherworld. He had constantly pushed the man away, when in reality, he had needed the human's friendship more than Kyle ever needed his. Endri was far more broken than Kyle ever was.
And he was still broken.
More tears leaked from the ghost's eyes, and he lifted the pages of his precious letter away so they wouldn't get dripped on. He could tell that his dear friend again felt some of those same feelings that had raged through him when he wrote that letter. The human was depressed as of late and would hardly talk to him, only simple, curt phrases. He avoided everyone and kept to himself a lot more often. Several times, he even lost his temper with Endri, yelling at him when he had only been trying to help.
Kyle was hurting again, and Endri didn't know how to help this time. Of all the times he had helped the human's problems in the past, this time, he was at a loss. This time, he couldn't fix it, and it was really scaring him.
Between his dripping tears, the ghost pulled the precious parchment to his chest and cradled it gently. How could he ever help his dear brother?
"Table for two?" a busty waitress asked, eyeing Beetlejuice's strange striped suit and crooked grin.
"Do you have a booth?" Lydia asked.
The brown-haired waitress nodded with a polite smile and grabbed the necessary amount of silverware and menus. "Right this way."
Once they were set up and the waitress rattled off the special for the day, she took their orders for drinks and scuttled away to retrieve them, leaving Beetlejuice and Lydia to look over the menus.
The ghoul sighed and cupped his chin in his hand as his eyes scanned over the culinary delights listed. "That's the thing with Real World restaurantshardly anything edible." He frowned, eyeing a fish platter warily.
"Which is exactly what I think whenever we go to a Neitherworld restaurant. To each his own," Lydia told him, perusing the sandwich selection.
"Honestlywhat do you see in 'biscuits and gravy'?" A look of disgust painted his features.
She turned the menu over. "Oh, they have biscuits and gravy?"
Beetlejuice made a face and closed his menu. "Whatever." He stared over at Lydia as she continued looking for just the right meal and smiled dreamily at her. "I love you."
She looked up and smiled. Her small, pale hand reached over and held one of his own in a warm gesture. "You're so sweet, Beej. What was that for?"
He shrugged. "Just thought I'd say so you'd remember."
The waitress returned with their drinks and took their orders. Beetlejuice just trusted in his lover's decision and ordered what she had, not wanting to really eat anything that restaurant had to offer. The brunette left for the kitchen, and the couple remained siting in the booth smiling at each other.
Lydia adjusted her place mat and stared at it as she did so. She was uneasy looking into her lover's eyes as she voiced the question, "How was Kyle today?"
Beetlejuice sat back and sighed, letting his eyes drift closed. The subject of that human fatigued him a little. "Still keepin' his tough act up."
She shook her head sadly.
"Ever since that day, he refuses to talk about it or even acknowledge anything happened to him. But if you look hard enough, you can tell it's eating him away from the inside like a double–ended leachworm."
Lydia made a disgusted face. "BJ."
He smirked but let it drop a lot quicker than normal. "One of these days, it's gonna hit him hard, an' if he doesn't let it out soon, he might not be able to come back from the falljust like Endri." He looked down, the thought saddening him.
"Well, isn't Endri helping him?"
"He's tryin', but Kyle won't even talk to him. It's almost like he's mad at the kid for some reason. But then he turns a one eighty and tries to be extra nice to him. He's really confused about somethin'."
"Maybe because Endri saved his life when he might've wanted to just die. He could be upset or disturbed over that." She took a sip of her drink through a straw. "Like, he could be angry at him for making him continue to live, but then be thankful that he is still alive."
Beetlejuice shrugged at her suggestion. "Somehow, I don't think that's it though. That seems too shallow. I think whatever it is, is somethin' a lot deeper."
Kyle sighed deeply, staring blankly into his computer screen. It displayed an unfinished line of code he just couldn't find the completion to. It was so simple! So why couldn't he think of it!
"Argh!" He stood and pushed his chair back under the desk roughly, jarring the contents that sat atop it. His fingers found his hair and ran through it, massaging and pulling at the scalp and strands, not enough to hurt, but enough for him to feel it.
It was so frustrating! On that computer screen was the culmination of his life's work—the most perfect operating system ever conceived. It was his baby. But he couldn't concentrate enough to give his creation birth, and it had been that way for the past few weeks. Every time he sat down to do some work, his mind went blank. At first, he thought it was simple writer's block, so he had immersed himself in inspirational materials: his old notes and published books about programming. Nothing had worked. For long hours, he paced before his keyboard, trying desperately to think. At times, he almost picked the entire machine up and tossed it out the window, he was so frustrated. But if he had done that, all his previous work would have been for nothing, and if he couldn't figure out what to continue with now, he certainly wouldn't be able to rewrite the entire thing.
Grumbling obscenities under his breath, Kyle kicked at the foot of his bed. He felt trapped, unable to breathe. He had to get out of there before he went stir crazy. Storming over, he grabbed up his old jean jacket from the small closet and donned it, then spun immediately for his door. But just when he gripped the knob, he froze.
Out thereout there was He shivered. Out there was nothing but pain. He wasn't safe beyond those four walls he surrounded himself with. He had never headed his friends' warnings that the Neitherworld was a dangerous place for Humans, but now, he knew they were right. The Neitherworld was dangerous—deadly, even. Hell, he wasn't even safe inside the Roadhouse: the home of the most feared and revered ghoul ever, so who was to say he was even safe up there in his bedroom? The hand that held the doorknob shuddered, and Kyle released it before it rattled. He still needed to get out of there, but where could he go that was safe? Blue eyes widened, and he stepped away from the door slowly, almost afraid someone or something had heard his silent thought. He knew where to go, but then came another question: how to get there? It had been a long time since he traveled to that place; he wasn't sure if he remembered how to get back there.
Deciding to just give it a shot, Kyle closed his eyes softly and focused in his mind one single point—the point he wished to travel to. Hopefully, with the small bit of power Endri gave him that formed his butterfly, he could travel to where he needed to go.
His mind lit up with a soft, comforting blue hue, and he relaxed everything to the warm feeling that suddenly surrounded him. A not entirely unpleasant feeling of lightheadedness washed over him, and he swayed a little on his feet. He reached an arm out to steady himself against something and felt a cool, coarse surface beneath his palm. His eyes drifted open and blinked a few times to focus.
Beside him, on both sides, ran old brick walls that extended high above, and hard concrete stretched out beneath his feet. He was in an alleyway, and the street beyond looked sparsely populated but familiar. Smiling, Kyle realized he had made it to his destination without a hitch. He knew he would be safe there, in an old familiar town in the Real World. Buthe looked down at his hands. The familiar hum of Endri's energy was gone. He had used it up when he transported himself, and now, he would never be able to form his butterfly gift again. That saddened him, but, he realized, it would have happened eventually, and since it was now gone with no way to get it back, he decided to not dwell on it.
Feeling much better about his situation, he strolled casually out onto the street and down one block to a familiar establishment. Brown Hill Bar still seemed open for business after seventeen years, and Kyle couldn't have been happier about it. He pressed open the door and entered the smoky, country atmosphere, breathing in old scents and feeling right at home. He shuffled up to the bar and plopped on one of the stools, putting his elbows to the counter and reading over the labels on bottles of alcohol behind it.
The bartender finished pouring some lager for a customer, then finally turned to the newcomer, ready to take his order. The pudgy man's eyes rounded out, and he froze to his spot, staring at the white–haired man who just then noticed him as well.
"Frank!" Kyle half shouted in disbelief, looking his old friend up and down.
"Kyle!" the bartender responded, eyeing his customer in the same fashion.
They stared at each other for long seconds until, finally, Frank could take it no more and leaned right over the bar to grab up his skinny friend in a rough embrace.
"Ah–ha–ha! Look at you! How long's it been!" he enthused, clapping Kyle on the back rather hard.
He grit his teeth and winced at the pain that jolted through his ribs from healed but still tender wounds, but otherwise let no other signs show of his discomfort. "Frank, long time no see! Wow, I can't believe you're still working in this dingy old place." He backed away and smiled warmly at his old friend, now a lot older than he remembered.
Frank stared at his companion, shaking his head in disbelief. "Holy shit, Kyle, look at you. You haven't aged a day! You look exactly like I remember you! How'd you do it?"
Kyle smirked and cast his eyes aside, simply shrugging in answer. "You're lookin' pretty good too, Frank. How old're you now?"
The greying man laughed and patted his pudgy tummy. "Yeah, right. I'm sixty–one and feelin' it. What are you? Thirty? Thirty–three? I thought for sure you were older than that though," he questioned with a quirk of his bushy eyebrow.
His white–haired companion chuckled, fingering the stained wood of the counter. "Forty–three."
Frank's hazel eyes bulged. "Damn, man, lookin' good! I bet you're still a huge hit with the ladies, eh?" he asked, winking and nudging with his elbow.
Kyle paled just slightly, and his smile fell a little. "Youcould say that."
Frank chuckled and swatted at his friend's shoulder, not seeing his slight distress. "So, what can I get ya? It's on the house tonight."
His smile reset, Kyle gazed at the selection again. "I don't care, really. Something hard. I don't wanna know who I am in the morning."
An upraised brow was his answer for a few seconds before the pudgy bartender turned and sorted through a few bottles along the wall. He pulled out one that was half full, cleaned out a fresh glass, dropped some ice cubes in, and poured the alcohol. "Here," he offered, handing the drink over, "get tanked."
Kyle smiled appreciatively and took a few quick sips to taste before chugging half the glass.
Frank just shook his head in bewilderment. "Man, you must still have some serious problems."
A smirk drifted over the man's face as the alcohol burned his throat and settled warmly in his stomach. "You don't know the half of it."
"Mind keying me in on it?"
"Yes."
Shrugging, Frank stood straight only to lean his hands back to the bar after seeing no one needed his services right then. "Listen, Kyle. You really had me worried. I thought you were dead."
"Maybe I was," was the quiet, distant response.
"I might be gettin' older, but I still got a good memory. The last time I saw you, you were so piss drunk, a total stranger had to take your ass home in your own car. I thoughtI thought he mighta killed ya and took whatever he could cram in your Jeep an' hightailed it."
Kyle smiled at his friend's concern. "He wouldn'tve done that."
Realizing, Frank nodded. "You still hangin' around with him then?"
With a nod, the younger man poured the rest of the alcohol down his throat and clunked the glass back to the counter. "Fill 'er up."
Frank just shook his head and did so. Kyle didn't seem to have changed all that much. He still drank like it was the end of the world. The bartender wondered if he still—
"Got a light, Frank? I'm cravin' some nicotine."
Yes, Kyle still smoked apparently. "Sure, man. Anything ya want." He reached into his own back pocket and pulled out a mostly full pack of Marlboro.
"All right, my brand. You're a lifesaver, Frank." Kyle sighed, pulling one out and accepting a light from his friend.
The older man just stood and watched his old friend delve into past habits, trying to drown out the pain in superfluous ways. "What've you been doing all these years?"
"Living the life of a dead man," came the cryptic answer followed by a puff of grey smoke from paler than usual lips. A light cough followed. He wasn't used to smoking anymore but didn't care. He would force himself to remember how to handle the smoke and burning feeling even if he choked to death. Then againmaybe that wouldn't be so bad.
"What happened to you, Kyle?" Frank asked in a different way. Despite the way his friend was acting, he knew something was bursting to be talked about, otherwise he wouldn't have come into a bar to get intoxicated in order to drown out some deep seeded worry or pain. "I'm here t' help, ya know."
"I know."
"Talk to me."
"I don't think you could handle it."
"Ha! You should hear half the shit these drunks come in here with. I could tell you stories."
"Tell me a story," Kyle asked softly, staring blankly ahead of him.
"Why don't you tell me a story?"
"I'm tired of my stories. I want to hear something new. Please," he asked again before taking a long drag from his cigarette.
Sighing in defeat, Frank shrugged and consented at last. "All right, fine. A few weeks ago, this guy came in"
They talked long into the night. Even after Frank closed up the bar and kicked out all the other patrons, he allowed Kyle to stay and drink and smoke as much as he wanted. The man just seemed to need a release from a huge tension that had been mounting for what had probably been years. They laughed and spoke fondly about a lot of things, all the while keeping a safe distance from the subject of Kyle's past.
The human was just a little more than wasted, and was beginning to open up more, even though he didn't want to. He just couldn't help himself at certain intervals, but at least he was able to keep himself from bawling like a baby in front of his old friend.
At long last, two o'clock came around, and about that time, a depressed air seemed to descend upon Kyle like a hooded black cloak. His body sagged, and his eyes grew dark. His hands shook, and he couldn't keep a cigarette or swig of alcohol out of his mouth for very long.
Frank yawned and twirled back and forth on the barstool behind the counter, noticeably glancing at the clock. "Look, Kyle, it's late. Why don't you go home, and I'll give ya a call tomorrow, then we can finish."
Kyle shook his head lazily. "II'm afraid to go home."
Raising a brow, Frank stopped twirling in his seat and asked, "Why?"
The younger man just shook his head again.
"What'sa matter, Kyle? You got problems at home?" the bartender tried to pry gently.
"Problemsyeah." The tip of Kyle's cigarette glowed bright red as he inhaled on the filter, feeling his lungs burn pleasantly with the hazardous smoke. He had re-learned his old habit quickly.
That time, Frank chose to stay quiet. He felt that if Kyle really wanted to talk, he would on his own.
"Nothin' but death has followed me my entire life. Every single person I care aboutgone," he said slowly, the alcohol already in his system making him sluggish. "My wife and little girl 're deadthen the woman left me. Left me hiiiiiigh n' dryyyy."
"Yourdead wifeleft you?" Frank asked, making sure that was exactly what he heard.
"Yeeep. Fuckin' left me. Oh, but not before saying I's a hot lay, can't forget that." White hair shook back and forth, and an empty chuckle escaped Kyle's lips before he parted them to make way for more of his drink. "Then my best pal goes insanenow that's a trip right there. Jus' fine for the loooongest timethen, blam! Wacko." He chuckled again. "But that's all right. That is o–kay."
Frank just shook his head in bewilderment. Kyle seemed to be teeming with strange stories.
"Th' guy split in half! You shoulda seen it!" He inhaled on his cigarette again, finishing it off and going right for another one in the almost empty pack lying beside him. He lit it up and puffed on it soothingly for a moment, a more serene look dominating his once brooding features.
"Over the last seventeen years, FrankI seen th' most freaky shit you could ever imagine. Monstersbats that turn into dogs 'r somethin'freaky fuckin' shit, right? I been livin' in that kinda environment for like" he paused to think, his eyes heading for the ceiling, "almost eight years. An' none o' that shit ever bugged me all that much, ya know? Jus' like, every once in a while, I'd have a bad dream, or I'd hear noises or somethin' an' couldn't sleep, but that was 'bout it, ya know? ButI–I can't go back. 'S too dangerous there anymore."
Kyle looked up at his old friend, his eyes full of fear, hands shaking around his glass and cigarette, and for the first time, Frank noticed the dark rings that circled around the man's tired eyes. He obviously hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while. His face was gaunt. His clothes hung off his bony frame, and he truly came across as having had more than one rough time over the years.
"Ya know what happened t'me?" he asked quietly, almost whispering. The quivering in his voice didn't go unnoticed either.
Frank shook his head, indicating for Kyle to continue.
"I–I" The younger man stopped, gulping the rest of his drink and immediately sucking on the end of his smoke afterward. His wild eyes darted off to the side, looking to the end of the bar, almost glaring.
The bartender leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "What happened?"
Kyle's attention was drawn back with the snap of his head. He swallowed heavily and cast one more glance to the end of the bar before parting his lips. "I waskidnapped."
Surprised, Frank said, "You're shittin' me! By that guy that took you home!"
Another hollow chuckle reverberated from Kyle's throat. "I wish."
"What happened!"
Flustered, the white–haired human inhaled his cigarette deeply, then pulled it away from his lips and pounded that hand to the counter. "Dammit, will you just show yourself already and stop eavesdropping! I know you've been there for a while, Endri."
"Who?" Frank asked, following Kyle's sudden angry gaze to the end of the bar.
A man was suddenly standing there, and the bartender jerked in surprise when he saw him. Slowly, the blonde rounded the end of the bar and stepped toward the other two men. His long, black trench coat flowed gracefully behind him, and his long hair swayed gently around his shoulders and face. Endri basically wore the same outfit as when he and Kyle first met, though this time, he had forsaken his glasses and the black leather pouches on his thighs.
"Hey, buddy," Frank warned, standing, "bar's closed. Why don't you go on home." His hand disappeared under the counter and stayed there.
Endri stopped one barstool away from Kyle and cast a friendly smile in Frank's direction. "Sorry for intruding. I was looking for my friend," he said, nodding at Kyle.
"Hey" the bartender began, shaking one finger at the newcomer, "hey, don't I know you? I swear, I seen you before."
The ghost smirked. "You're correct. A long time ago, I offered to take Kyle home instead of you when he was too drunk to drive himself."
"I knew it!" Frank shouted, grinning. "You are him! You're also the guy who punched out Jack Donnogan! Ha–ha! That was the most eventful this bar had ever been!" He reached out with a hand. "Nice ta see you again!"
Endri smiled in kind and shook the man's hand.
"What're you doin' here, Endri?" Kyle grumbled, cutting off the pleasantries.
The ghost looked down at his friend hunched over the bar and nursing a cigarette since all of his booze had been guzzled previously. "You were gone almost all day. You should have known I'd come looking for you."
"I came here t'get away from the fuckin' Neitherworld, and now you come t'take me back?" the human grumbled none too friendly.
"Not really," Endri sighed, taking a seat next to his friend. "We don't have to go back right away." He reached over and plucked the half smoked cigarette from his friend's fingers and slid it between his own lips, puffing on it softly.
"Since when did you smoke?" Kyle huffed, pissed his plaything had been taken.
"Since I took this cigarette from you," the ghost answered nonchalantly, inhaling again.
His human companion looked away, grumbling to himself.
Endri pulled the cigarette from his mouth and gently tapped the ashes into a nearby ashtray. "So, don't let me intrude on your conversation. Please, go on with whatever you were saying before I popped up," he coaxed, sounding much like his old self. In fact, it was very hard to notice the ghost still had the Mania since he appeared, but there was a perfectly good reason for it. He was only concerned with Kyle's welfare ever since he had been taken, and, as a result, had forgotten about his own problems. A crude way to get his Mania under control permanently? It was only up to time to decide.
Frank nodded, glad to get back to that subject. He was concerned for his friend and wanted to know what happened to him. "Yeah, that's right. Thanks," he told Endri. "Kyle? You were sayin' somethin' happened to you? You were kidnapped; is that right?"
The younger human's eyes glossed over with emotion as he fumbled with the crumpled cigarette package, trying to dig out another one. "I don'tI don't wanna talk about it."
"Come–on, Kyle, you were ready to a minute ago," Frank argued softly.
"Well, not anymore!" Kyle snapped, blue eyes flashing.
"Kyle," Endri spoke up quietly, not looking at either human. He lifted his stolen cigarette to his lips, but spoke before taking it into his mouth, his breath making the smoke curl and dance away from the ever shortening tube. "Don't let my presence keep you from what you were going to say."
"Argh!" the man in question shouted in frustration. He stood from the warmed stool on shaking legs and pointed a quivering finger at the ghost. "You fuckin' wanna know! Fine! I'll tell you, if you'll just get off my back about it! I'm sick of you constantly buggin' me to 'talk about it'!"
The conversation seemed to have gone from between two people, to three, then back to two again, this time, Frank being out of the loop. Deciding to not get too involved, but wanting to hear what his friend had to say, he slid back toward the back wall to put some distance between them and listened while trying not to stare at the speakers outright.
"That fuckin' bitch!" Kyle screamed, feeling like he wanted to hit something. "She took me away, chained me up an' raped me outa my fuckin' mind!" He paused to take a much needed breath, then began again right away. "Day an' night, over and over! Biting me, suckin' out my blood And if anyone ever calls me 'Kyle–baby' again, I will personally rip them apart one piece at a time!" He squeezed his eyes as he shouted, and his whole body went rigid and trembled on the verge of collapsing.
Endri stood at that point, dropping the finished cigarette into the ashtray, and reached for his friend, trying to provide a little comfort. His outstretching hands were slapped away, however, and he locked gazes with a wild animal.
"Don't touch me, you bastard!" He swayed a little and tried inhaling unsuccessfully a few times before gaining some semblance of control. "Y–You! Where were you! I prayed and prayed for you to come and save me. But you never came. You never showed up to take away the pain like you always did. Y–You forgot about me!" he cried, his eyes glossing over.
"That isn't true!" Endri argued. "I was looking for you the entire time! The bitch that took you hid you well, Kyle. It took me two months to find you!"
"But you were always so powerful, Endri. With just a thought, you could transport yourself wherever you wanted. So, why didn't you pop up and save me! Why did you leave me there with that sadistic rapist!"
The ghost grit his teeth against the emotional pain. "I tried. I tried so hard to find you! But I didn't know where you were, so I couldn't transport to you. I practically had to sniff you out!" He held a shaking hand to his blonde head and grimaced. "Please, Kylethis is tearing me apart."
"It's tearing you apart! What about me! I was the one in chains, forced to fuck some ghost bitch I don't know, bein' told if I was a 'good boy', I'd be rewar–ded!" His voice cracked horribly on his last word, and he stumbled to the side, griping the bar to steady himself.
Endri leapt forward and snatched Kyle up while he was distracted, locking his arms around the man's back and pinning him to his chest. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he intoned over and over, remorse filling the words and his gut, making the backs of his eyes sting.
Not surprisingly, the inebriated human struggled fiercely in his grip, working his arms up to pound fisted hands to the ghost's chest. "Let me go! Stop! Leave me alone!" he shouted relentlessly, unceasing his angry, brutal attack. He was rarely ever so violent.
Endri just held on, knowing words would do no good at that particular point.
Kyle continued to struggle, beating his fists into his best friend's chest over and over, surely causing some nasty bruises under his white shirt. The tears had begun leaking out, but he never even noticed. It all just hurt so badly. The humiliation was blinding. He felt so dirty and disgusting, no amount of showering and scrubbing could make him clean again. He had tried already to clean the filth from himself, scouring his skin to the point of bleeding, but the stench of the woman always came back, the feeling of her clammy hands always returned. He didn't want anyone to touch him, especially not Endri. He didn't want to spread that foulness to his sweet brother.
A sob erupted from Kyle's constricted throat, and he gasped for more breath. "Y–Y—" he tried to say, but it wouldn't come out. So, frustrated, he sent his fists thudding to the ghost's chest again. Anger rose along with the action, and the loop began anew.
"Y–You never came for me!" he cried, his voice hoarse and scraping along his vocal cords. "You just left me to her! You didn't save me! You always used to save me, but this time, when it couldn't be worse, you just left me there! Why!" He stopped fighting Endri's embrace and dropped his head to the chest he had been beating on, falling almost limp. "Why did you forget me?"
The ghost held his old partner aloft easily, but the throbbing in his battered chest wasn't going away anytime soon. It felt as though his heart was throbbing instead of his muscles and skin, and in an odd way, he rather liked the sensation. Gently, he slid one hand up to touch white hair that his face was practically buried in already. He spoke into the white fluff quietly, knowing Kyle could hear.
"I never once forgot you. I never stopped searching. I'd still be searching if I hadn't found you when I did. All I could think about was finding you and bringing you home. Please don't forget me, Kyle. I'm your partneryour best friendyour brother. Why would I forsake you?"
Slowly, Kyle's face contorted in unbelievable pain, and his teeth grit so tightly together, they ground audibly. A cry was torn from his throat, and he buried his face deeper into Endri's chest to muffle it. Grasping, trembling hands clawed at the ghost's shoulders as if searching for a solid grip but finding none and slipping.
"I'm so sorry!" came an unexpected shout, and the hands that had been searching for purchase found it and clung tenaciously to Endri's lapels and any hair that happened to be in the way. "E–En–d–driso sorry," he began again through shaking breaths and shuddering sobs. "I–Ilost myf–faith in you." He looked up, eyes conveying such sorrow and regret. "My faith, 'Dri! I–I lost it! I starteds–started to hate you. I thought you abandoned me. I thought you didn't care anymore. I thought you didn't care what happened to me. I thought Beetle took my best friend away from me, and I got jealous. And worst of allI thought I'd never get you back." His face fell back to the ghost's chest, and he clung so much tighter than before. "Please forgive me! I didn't mean to lose my faith in you! I didn't mean to. I d–didn't" He pulled away again, just enough to send a pleading look up to his long–time friend. His eyes glistened in the bad lighting of the bar, and a few of those crystal tears broke free when he blinked. "Please" he whispered at a barely audible level.
Endri smiled warmly down at him and pet his hand along the back of Kyle's hair. "I thought you knew me better," he spoke quietly. But just so there were no misconceptions, he nodded just slightly and said a little louder, "Of course I forgive you. Was there ever a need to ask such a thing?" He leaned down just a fraction and pressed a slow but chaste kiss to his best friend's forehead. There was no way that white–haired man wasn't cared for.
Kyle closed his eyes in incredible relief and let a few more tears escape from the act. Over the last eight months, he had cried and fussed like a child so much, he occasionally wondered where along the road he had dropped his masculinity. But, he had to admit, it felt really good to be able to release his pain in the form of tears. It was better than throwing a fit, shouting, hitting, hurting—forgetting already that he had just been doing so. In fact, he believed he was more of a man for being able to admit defeat, for being strong enough to cry, especially in front of others, than to pack it all in and cover everything with anger and frustration. Yes, he felt so much better now, now that everything was out. It was sucha relief.
Slowly, a serene look drifted over the plains of Kyle's face, and his head fell back limply, followed by his entire body sagging toward the floor. Endri renewed his grip on his friend, keeping him aloft, even as the human's hands slipped away from his hair and lapels to dangle limply at his sides.
Finally, at that point, Frank decided to make his presence known again, and stepped around the bar to lend a hand. "He passed out," he said, stating the obvious just for the record. He helped keep Kyle up while Endri worked his arms around until he was able to pick the smaller, younger human up and cradle him against his chest.
"Thank you," he told the man in acknowledgement.
Frank nodded, glad he could help, even if it was in such a small way. "H–He didn't really have all that much. I thought he'd be able to take more than that, actually," he said, referring to the alcohol Kyle had consumed earlier.
"He had stopped drinking and smoking after he met me. I sort ofthreatened him to quit." The ghost smiled at the bartender sweetly.
Frank shook his head. "Man, it seems after he met you, things kinda got better for him. I remember a time when nothing could make him quit drinkin' and smokin'or even smile."
Endri smiled again, this time down at his unconscious friend. "Some things got better, some didn't, and some things got worse." He looked back up to the curious bartender. "There are good and bad points to everything. It was just fortunate that staying with me wouldn't have been as bad as being on his own. He needed me to keep him aloft." He looked back down to his beloved friend. "And I needed him to save my sanity. Everything just worked out."
Frank stared at the blonde for a moment, his lips pursed in both nervousness and thought. Those twinkles in that guy's eyes weren't caused by the crappy lights in the bar, that much he was certain. And he remembered all the cryptic things Kyle had told him earlier, both before and after he was drunk, and also during the fight he witnessed. He parted his lips and posed the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for a little while now. "Youyou aren't humanare you?"
Endri glanced back up to the aging bartender, a smile spreading over his full lips. "In the grand scheme of thingsdoes it really matter?"
Frank cast a long look to his old friend, held suspended in strong arms and sleeping peacefully. "I guess not," he said with a smirk.
The ghost continued his smile and nodded his head toward the man, then moved to turn and make his exit at last.
"Wait," Frank broke the silence again.
Endri turned back, a question on his brows.
"Are you Kyle's friendthe one he talked about that went i–insane? 'Cause you seem just fine to me."
The ghost smiled kindly. "Who are we to say what is and isn't sane? If being insane means being someone that isn't acting normally, then almost all of us would be considered mad. And if you are to be considered normal, you have to act and think a certain way. So tell me, which is more insane—being how everyone wants you to be, or being yourself?"
The deep meaning to those wise words were not lost on the older human, but he was never the one to beat around the bush. "Do you always talk in riddles?"
Endri smirked and tilted his head a little to the side before readjusting his hold on Kyle. "You want a straight answer, I assume. Hn. Very well. Most people don't like their minds challenged nowadays anyway. It's sad really." He shook his head a little before again locking gazes with Frank's hazel eyes. "No, I'm not human. And yes, unfortunately, I have developed a disorder my people call 'Necromania'. But" he looked down to his friend once again, "Kyle has helped me a great deal. I owe him more than I can give in a hundred lifetimes."
Frank shook his head again, a habit for him when he just couldn't believe what was going on. "Wow," was all he could utter.
The ghost looked up, smiling broadly. "Thank you for your help tonight. I'm glad Kyle was able to talk to someone about things. He normally doesn't see very many different people where we live, and he rarely gets to travel to the Real World anymore, since he's been caring for me."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, no problem!" the human nodded, truly glad he could help.
"We should be going now. Thank you again." Endri turned slightly, ready to walk off with his lighter than usual burden.
"W–Will I ever see you guys again? You're always welcome in my bar, ya know."
The ghost half turned back, smirking. "Perhaps someday we'll return. Thank you for everything." He turned one final time and exited the building, not needing to touch the door to open it as it swung open with just a quick glance.
Frank leaned back against the bar breathing a heavy sigh as the tall blonde made his unusual exit with an unconscious man dangling from his arms, his coat flowing behind, the last thing to disappear from view. Even if the blonde wasn't human, he was still a very nice guy, something Frank didn't see very often anymore.
No one would ever believe him if he said anything about what happened that night, so he promised himself he would never tell. And so, with that thought, he stood and worked around the bar, dumping the ashtrays and cleaning up what he missed before all the commotion started, then resigned to head home for some much deserved rest.
Japanese / pronunciation / English Translation:
None
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