Lance’s Funeral

by RachelleFaucet

A Klance au in which Keith discovers that him and only him can see Lance's ghost.

5. Vol 5

You and I were fire, fire, fireworks

I said I'd never miss you, but I guess you'll never know

Where the bridges I have burned never really led home

On the Fourth of July

~Fall Out Boy / Fourth Of July

ooo

Keith got a text from Shiro.

Shiro: 'Hey! Me, Allura, and the gang are meeting up at my place for New Years! You in?'

And Keith, dismissive but polite, answered with a simple: 'no thanks, I have other plans.'

And it was true. Because, unbeknownst to Shiro and the rest of the world, Keith had found his one and only. A bond - a love - that transcended both life and death. Lance and Keith, two sides of the same coin.

Keith cranked down the window of his black Honda, and extended his arm to feel the cool wind pass between his fingers. The sky was an inky black void, too close to the city for stars to be seen, and the road a hilly ride that stretched toward the sea.

Lance, who sat in the passenger seat - hovered just above it - let the gust send his mess of hair flailing behind him. His long eyelashes fluttered as he squinted, head poked from the open window. The adrenaline Keith felt was addicting, but he didn't know if the cause was the speed or the sight of Lance's dazzling expression as he hollered to the rolling plains.

Keith turned the knob of his radio. It blasted tunes which shook the car and scrambled his brain to mush. It was loud, but he was ok with that. With no one around for miles, there was no better time to crank the stereo and let their hearts pound with the beat.

"This is amazing!" Lance exclaimed, jutted his arms from the car, and smiled into the nothingness. He emitted a yellow glow, which made him stand out above all else. Keith gawked at his crooked, white teeth and brown skin outlined behind the dim moon's glow. When he looked at his ghost boy, Keith didn't feel quite so small. Instead of just another human out of billions, Keith felt as though he was the luckiest thing to ever feel, breath, and love. To be apart of Lance's life was unbelievable. Being in love with him was a dream beyond his wildest imaginations. But, him loving Keith in return? That was delusional. And yet... here he was.

"Keith! Keep your eyes on the road!"

Keith's head snapped forward as he jerked the steering wheel right. They slid back on course. Thankfully no other cars were there to witness his stupidity.

Lance ducked back into the car, and turned his attention upward. "Hey, you know what?" He had to shout to be heard over the roaring wind.

"No, I don't know what."

"I've never been on the roof of a moving car before. Chloe always said it was too 'dangerous', or some crap."

"I don't like where this is going." Keith pulled his hand back in through the window.

"I do." Lance shot back, and hovered skyward. His head was the first to disappear through the car's roof, then his torso, then his long, long, long legs. Keith tried to keep his focus forward as he heard Lance howl wildly above him. A wild animal had been let from its cage and was on the run, free from danger and with a nag for adventure.

"You better not fall off!" Keith called, rolling his eyes with a smirk.

"Oh, please. I'm a ghost, how could I -"

"Lance?" Keith asked suddenly. Lance's voice had cut off.

Lance reappeared in the passenger seat. His eyes were wide, and jaw agape. Keith eyed him suspiciously. "What happened?"

"I fucking fell off." Lance said, shaken. "That was not a pleasant experience."

"Are you hurt?"

Lance looked down at himself, then shook his head. "I don't think I can be hurt. Not physically anyway. Still, that doesn't stop the terror of being flung across the sky, and landing face first into the concrete with all the momentum of a descending jet plane."

Keith couldn't help but chuckle. He brought his fist to his mouth to stifle the laughter, then said, "That's what you get for being reckless."

"Hey, I was just trying to enjoy my newly honed abilities. Well, not new, but you know what I mean. If you had a chance to do stupid stuff without getting hurt, wouldn't you?"

"Depends. Here, put this in the CD player." Keith instructed, eager to change the subject. With his free hand, he reached into his hoodie pocket, and pulled out a thin, square, plastic container. It held a disc labeled only by black sharpie scribbled across the surface.

Lance took it from him, and popped the case open curiously. "Lance's Funeral?" He read. "What is this?"

"Let's just say," Keith began, cheeks a dark crimson, "it's a late Christmas Present, or an early New Year's gift, whatever floats your boat. All you need to know is that it's for you, and you better not laugh at me."

Lance's grin stretched from ear to ear. He took the disk, and pushed it into the medieval device known as a CD player. Turning the volume knob to its maximum, Lance leaned his back against the seat to listen. Keith cranked the windows up so they could hear better - not that it was needed, as the music blasted loud enough to make a deaf man's ears bleed. But, somehow, Keith wasn't bothered. He could bare the ear-rape if it kept that look on Lance's face. That look that warded away the darkness, making way for light.

As the two continued down the road, Keith wondered what was so great about the beach, and why Lance swooned over its... sand? Ocean? A bunch of H2O and annoying dust that got into seemingly impossible crevices? Either way, Lance loved it, so there must've been something to such a place. But what? The seashells? The seagulls? The salty breeze?

When the ocean came into view, Lance nearly bolted from the car. Keith parked on the sand, and pushed the door open. It was dark, so Lance brought an electric lantern with him. Placing it on the hood of Keith's car, Lance darted to the water. "Yes! The sea! My home turf, motherfuckers!"

When he got there, Lance kicked water into the air, his clothes showing no signs of wetness. Perhaps ghost clothes worked differently from mortal clothes? Pondering this physiological conundrum, Keith trudged across the damp sand, ditching his shoes and socks on the way. He was not about to get his favorite jeans wet, so Keith stripped them off, and flung them behind him. All that remained was his red boxers and rug-like legs.

After dipping the smallest square centimeter of toe into the ocean, Keith realized quickly it was no jacuzzi. The icy sting cut from his foot through the rest of his body. Doubling back, Keith shivered, and yelled, "Fuck, that's cold. How are your balls not falling off?"

"My balls are blue, daba dee. I'm used to it, bro. I'm cold blooded."

Keith sighed. "Ok, firstly, it's warm blooded, and secondly, sometimes I question why the hell I like you."

"Because I'm just so charming?" Lance asked, batting his eyelashes, and kicking his leg behind him.

Keith scrunched his nose, inching closer and closer to the nerve-numbing sea. Even on the sand, Keith could feel its bite. When he stepped in and moved to Lance bit by bit, he clasped his hands around his arms. Lance narrowed his eyes, his breath a chilly, white cloud on a pitch black canvas. "Any day now, slowpoke."

"This is so weird. I'm standing in a pool where gross, skinny creatures eat one another on a regular basis. Not to mention make babies and shit. Why the hell is it so fucking cold?"

"Relax, Texas boy. You're just overreacting. Come over here." Lance waved his arm, motioning Keith closer.

Begrudgingly, Keith took a bigger stride into the ocean, the water level raising ever so higher. When it reached just below his knees, Keith was at Lance's side. But, instead of what he expected, Lance dragged his fingers across the surface of the sea and flicked his wrist, sending a mini tidal wave Keith-bound. Drawing back a moment too late, Keith yelped, "You backstabbing bitch!"

Lance snorted, and urged another splash toward the swearing boy. The water soaked Keith's underwear and the bottom portion of his shirt. So, in retaliation, Keith bent down, and summoned an even greater burst from the chilled water. Lance laughed as he brought his arms up as a shield. "Oh, it is on." He declared with a smirk.

The two boys then proceeded to have a very intense, very elaborate game of splash war. Lance sent his troops in small spurts of power, but Keith countered with one large, ferocious ambush that encircled Lance's entire body in a cold, salty wave. They both laughed, shouted, and kicked as though the world consisted of them and them alone. And, for a moment, that was what Keith believed.

After that scuffle, the pair of generals called it a draw, and ran back to the land. One was soaked and the other looked as dry as ever. Keith couldn't help but think Lance's abilities gave him an unfair advantage. Of course, unfairness wasn't a term associated with war. Only death, adrenaline, and passion.

Keith and Lance crawled onto the car's roof. Well, one of them crawled, and the other jumped. They sat with their bare feet dangling from the side. Keith felt the sand that clung to his damp skin between his bare toes. His and Lance's shoulders were so close, they were nearly touching. Things were going slow in their newly found relationship, but that was ok by Keith. He didn't want to force anything Lance wasn't comfortable with.

Keith glanced at his phone's lock screen. "Ten more minutes until twelve o'clock." He informed, which garnered a nod from Lance.

"Thank god." Lance sighed. "Twenty sixteen was the worst."

"I've never heard a truer statement." He agreed. Twenty sixteen was a shit hole for everyone across the world, but especially for Keith, Lance, and the people they knew. Nothing could outdo the pain of losing Lance. But now, Keith was ready to put it all behind and look to the future. A bright, horrifying future. Keith didn't know what was to come; pain, joy, or perhaps a combination of the two. Dating a ghost was a lot more complicated than he wanted it to be. But who was he to expect anything more? Still, despite the uncertainty of it all, Lance was happy, which made Keith happy, which made everything bearable.

Lance leaned back, weight supported by his palms. His bottom half took a position that mimicked sitting on a surface, though his butt still lingered a few centimeters in the air. Keith placed his hands back too, and stared at where his pinky fidgeted next to Lance's. Oh, how he wanted to touch those fingers. "Why do you like the ocean so much?" Keith asked suddenly, cutting through their meaningful silence.

Lance frowned, head remaining forward. It wasn't a sad expression, but one of a thoughtful sort. "The memories, I guess." He answered, voice low as the gentle tides. "Plus, there's this mystery aspect to it. The ocean is so big. It reaches farther than our eyes can see and deeper than our minds can comprehend. There's so much to it, and so much left unexplored. Scientist and shit have found incredible things about the sea, but there's no possible way we know even close to a fraction about it. That's what's so great about the ocean. You can see it once, go back, and it's completely different."

There was a long pause. Keith let the wind whisk his hair, it's touch cooling his damp skin. He wondered what it felt like to be a fish living in the ocean.

"I wanted to be a marine biologist."

Keith turned his head. "Really?" Was all that came, instead of the things he wanted to say.

"Yeah." Lance whispered, inhaling against the frigid breeze.

Keith said nothing more. There was nothing to say. Instead he held his phone between him and Lance, and they both stared down at the ticking clock together. Seven minutes until New Year. Five minutes. Three minutes. Keith felt Lance's hand touch his. Two minutes. One minute. Thirty seconds. Lance gently pushed Keith's wrist aside. Placing his hands on either side of Keith's thighs, Lance leaned in and kissed Keith right as the phone displayed twelve o'clock. Keith's head was sent reeling as Lance's fingers ran up his arm and cupped his neck. His limbs were left limb, mind too engulfed in the shock of the one and only Lance McClain's lips on his own.

They separated for a mere second, Keith's mouth parted in awe. Lance took the opportunity to tug his head forward and push his tongue into Keith's mouth. They were only like that for a moment before the pair were interrupted by a loud boom and burst of light.

Keith and Lance jumped and snapped their attention to the horizon. In the distance a boat was settled. It was hard to see from here - a mere white speck among a black sea and an even blacker sky, but there nevertheless.

"Fireworks." Lance breathed, his eyes reflecting the magnificent bursts of color. The ghost boy watched them in amazement as Keith watched him in wonder.

Lance turned to Keith with a smirk. Their mouths met once again as Lance's fingers made their way beneath the fabric of Keith's coat. He ran his hand through Lance's hair and pulled him impossibly closer.

Lance kissed Keith's cheek, then moved to the crook of his neck. Keith held in a gasp as Lance's fingers inched their way up and down his chest. Seeing Keith's face, Lance decided to tease him further by sliding the tips of his fingers just below Keith's waistline. Keith's face grew ruby red, and mouth tugged down at Lance's malicious grin. Leaning back from Keith's shoulder, Lance whispered, "Wow, I can't believe we're kissing."

Keith, not much for chitchat, pulled him back in. When their lips parted for a breath, Lance took the opportunity to continue, "And we're kissing on a beach with fireworks in the background. This is like the cheesiest, most romantic kiss imaginable."

"Are you always this talkative making out?" Keith asked, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Lance's head. He looked so lively, it was unreal. Keith couldn't see through him.

"I don't know. I'm just excited." Lance shrugged, his mouth brushing against Keith's ear. "This is like... a dr-"

Keith waited. Lance grew cold. "Um... Lance?" He asked.

Lance disappeared. Keith blinked, unsure of what had happened. He sat up, and turned his head from side to side. "Lance?" It started as a simple question, but soon escalated. "Lance? Lance? LANCE?"

Keith hopped from the car, and ran his hands through his scalp. His head spun, and vision blurred. "Lance! T - this isn't funny. Where the fuck are you?" Black dots spotted the corners of his line of sight.

Keith felt a hot, wet tear fall from his eye to the brim of his nose. He continued shouting as his face grew increasingly redder, features tighter, throat hoarse. "Lance! Lance, you're not fucking gone. Where the fuck are you? Stop, this isn't funny."

He was answered by silence. Complete, utter, isolating silence.

Keith gripped the handle of his car, and yanked it open. He ducked his head inside expecting to find Lance. He wasn't there. Keith slammed the door. "This isn't funny... t - this... why the fuck would you do this to me?"

Keith paused for a second, letting the wind howl in his ears. Only the wind, and nothing more. He could still taste Lance's soft lips and feel his long fingers pressed against his skin. This wasn't the end. It couldn't be. Nothing made sense. He still didn't have his answers.

In a sudden burst of anger, Keith drew his leg up, and flung it wildly at the car's side. The piece of junk shook on impact, its grimy windows rattled. A dent was left where Keith's foot hit. At first, it didn't hurt. The shock was enough to overpower the pain. But, afterword, it shot across Keith like a shockwave. Grabbing his leg, Keith yelped in pain.

Keith's limbs grew too weak to carry his weight. He collapsed to the sand wincing in agony. His stomach felt as though it was going to burst. His lungs were on fire. "Please." Keith said, voice desperate. "Take me instead. Just leave him alone, and torture me instead."

Silence .

"Why wasn't it me?"

Silence.

"What did he ever do?"

Silence.

"Nothing. He did nothing."

Biting his bottom lip, Keith squinted, hot tears and snot falling from his eyes and nose. His face was a wreak. Creases lined his features, and long hair clung to his soaked cheeks. He felt alone. He was alone. No one was there to hear his pathetic whimpering, nor could anyone empathize. He had gotten what he wanted - what he had dreamed of since the beginning of time - only to have it yanked from reach. It was a carrot on a string. He had been taken, loved, and left for dead on the side of the road. Just another one of Earth's many tragedies. One too insignificant in the grand scheme of things for anyone but himself to give a damn about. Another story out of billions no one bothered to read.

Alone, Keith was alone.

"Keith?"

Keith's heart stopped. "Lance?"

"Keith? Where the fuck?" Lance, in the exact position he was before, gasped. His eyes bugged as his head swiveled from side to side.

Keith turned onto his back, and looked up. "Lance?"

Lance leapt from the car and ran - flew - to Keith. "Keith? Are you ok? W - what happened? You disappeared!"

Keith's arms flung forward, and wrapped around Lance. They hugged in silence, allowing their actions to speak for themselves. Finally, after regaining his voice, Keith murmured, "It's time to see your brother."

ooo

So tell me now

If this ain't love then how do we get out?

Because I don't know

That's when she said I don't hate you boy

I just want to save you while there's still something left to save

~Rise Against / Savior

ooo

The pair got into their car.

The next day - or, the same day actually, but much later - Keith drove to the infamous home, on the infamous block, in the infamous neighborhood, aka: 452 Sanders Way. The 'McClains' as known by some, the 'Chamber of Secrets' as known by a certain leathered gloved, black haired boy. He felt as though the label most accurately described the residence. Ladened with mysteries and questionable family ties. The house Lance and the many McClain kids that came before spent their childhood.

Keith drummed on the steering wheel, brushed his bangs from his forehead, and bit the inside of his lip now and again for no other reason but to keep his brain occupied enough to forget his worries. It didn't work. He felt his heart in his mouth and his muscles sore with stiffness.

Keith internally recited and re-recited Lance's letter from memory. It calmed him. He felt its touch in the back-pocket of his jeans. Carrying it around gave him energy. And that's what he needed; energy. To stay calm during this mess; not knowing why or how his boyfriend disappeared and reappeared with no knowledge of either. And there was only one person he could trust - actually, no, Keith didn't think he could trust Nico McClain, but he was their only viable option.

So that's where they went. Keith behind the wheel, Lance hovering in the seat next to him. They didn't speak. Sometimes silence was best in making way for contemplation. Keith placed his white-knuckled hand on the gearshift, though he didn't need to change it. His fist simply urged for something to clutch. Lance and his cold fingers hesitantly moved to Keith's pale skin and tensed muscles. Keith could still see his hand through Lance's. Both boys didn't look at one another. They averted their eyes, Keith at the road ahead, and Lance out the passenger window to the passing storefronts. Keith turned his palm face up and linked fingers with Lance. Gripping tightly, Keith sighed, and let the coolness of the touch engulf him. And, as they sped down the street, Keith thought - promised - one thing: 'I will not lose this'.

They arrived at the house, the stone tile beside the door engraved with the recognizable number, 452. Keith's body trembled. He tightened his hold on Lance as though Lance was threatening to whisk away. They only parted after a moment of stillness in the parked car, listening the low buzz of the ignition, or the air, or their hearts. It was hard to say.

The doors swung open, and Keith stepped out. In an attempt not to draw attention, he didn't park directly in front of 452 Sanders Way, but the house beside it. He didn't want to get Mrs. McClain or Mr. McClain - especially Mr. McClain - angry if they didn't approve of stranger's cars just outside their windows.

Keith and Lance passed through the front lawn because there was no pathway leading to the door, and stopped at the entrance. Though this wasn't his first time here, Keith felt his stomach churn. Everything was so... different. There was no hectic party to distract from the interior - or, more over, the residents. He was even more anxious about speaking a second time with Mrs. Alice McClain. Did she remember him? Did she think he was weird? Did she see him freak out at the party? The questions piled and piled until Lance cut in to remind Keith to knock on the door.

Oh, yeah. They hadn't even gone inside.

Keith knocked. His heart sped faster and faster as he waited for someone - something - to happen. Lance crossed his legs in the air and extended his arms behind his head. Still, they said nothing.

Mrs. McClain opened the door. Her hair was mangled and face lacked makeup. A much different image than that of the Christmas party, but because she wasn't expecting any guests, she likely didn't care what she looked like. Her expression was at first annoyed, then confused, then a forced smile. "Oh, hello."

"Hello." Keith squeaked, his posture suddenly straight as a board.

"And, who are you?" Mrs. McClain's eyebrows pinched. She wore a blue apron across her white t, and was tall like Lance, but chubby like Hunk.

"It's Keith." He said in a hurry, trying his best to appear polite. Of course she didn't remember. There were so many guests at the party, why should she? "I was at the Christmas dinner."

Mrs. McClain nodded. "Ah, of course. So, what do you need?"

"Um... Is Nico here?"

For a moment, Mrs. McClain was still. Keith saw her lips curl before she was able to process his words. "Nico?" She asked in disbelief. "Well, uh, wow. Are you... are you two acquainted?"

"In a way, ma'am."

"Alright..." She blinked away the twinkle of disbelief in her eye. "Well... come in then. He's just in his room. Do you need me to walk you there?"

Keith shook his head and entered. Lance followed close behind. Like before, Lance kept his eyes trained on his mother, an unknowableness which plagued his features.

Once inside, Keith was overwhelmed with the voices that came from the other room. They weren't shouts per se, but boisterous enough to hear through the thin walls. The two participants, a gravely voice and a scratchy voice, argued back and forth about... something.

With one last 'thank you', Keith started for Lance's room. Unfortunately, on the way, he ran into the source of the commotion. Mr. McClain with his thick mustache and wrinkled eyes stood neck to neck with a thin, middle aged woman that resembled a chewed toothpick. They didn't seem to notice him, so Keith hurried his pace while keeping his head down.

He and Lance passed through the hall - including the questionable placed couch - and stopped before Lance's bedroom door. Or, Nico's door in this case. Keith's eyes darted to Lance, a question - unsure which - clung to the tip of his tongue. Lance shrugged in response, and said, "Knock?"

So Keith did. It was a quiet double tap; short and precise. He waited for someone to answer, wondering about Nico all the while.

Minutes later - Keith didn't know the number precisely - the scene was the same as before. Keith knocked again, louder this time. Still, no movement. Not a single peep slipped passed the walls or flicker of light from the crevice between the door and floor.

"Sleeping?" Keith suggested.

"No, that's not right. Nico never sleeps."

"Hey, psychic." A voice came from behind.

The two boys startled and snapped their heads back. Jordan. "What the - why do you keep doing that?" Keith demanded.

"Doing what?" Jordan asked, batting his lashes innocently.

"Sneaking up on us!"

"Us?"

"Yes, me and my imaginary friend. Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe is very sensitive about this stuff."

"What? No I'm not." Lance protested. "Wait, that's not my name!"

"What are you still doing here anyways?" Keith asked, addressing Jordan.

The kid shifted from one foot to the other. In the dim light of the hallway, his eyes almost looked hollow. Keith hadn't payed much attention before, but he noticed just how creepy the child's expression was. Expressive and full of secrets. A shiver crawled across Keith's skin. Jordan spoke, "I'm always here."

"Always here? Why? What?" Keith turned to Lance for an explanation. The ghost boy's features pinched, making it clear he was just as confused. "How long?" Keith continued.

"Always."

"What? No you haven't." Lance said.

"No you haven't." Keith translated.

"Yeah I have." Jordan insisted. "Lance just never noticed. Nobody noticed."

Keith and Lance's eyes bugged. Kids weren't Keith's cup of tea to begin with; creepy kids speaking nonsense was just... overdoing it. Keith opened his mouth with the intention of saying something when another voice cut in from the door. "So you can see him too?"

Keith and Lance startled - again - and made a full pivot. Nico - Nico's head rather - poked out from the small opening he provided into his bedroom. His hair and eyes were crazier than ever. "You answer us 'now'?" Keith scowled.

Nico ignored him. "I knew you would come. You are like me."

"I am like you?" Keith repeated. "I'm sorry, but none of this is making sense. What do you mean you can see him too? Are you talking about the kid? And how did he know -" He paused. He knew better than to bring up Nico's dead brother's name.

When Keith didn't continue, Nico said, "You are like me, but two times as powerful. You have magic eyes. I have mortal eyes I have trained. A sixth sense. You have been awoken recently, I can smell it. But the power you have gained, you are still confused on how to wield it."

"Um... right. Well, that's not why I'm here." Keith couldn't look Nico directly in the eyes. Instead, his gaze darted from his shoes, to Lance, and back. "I just need to know why... my ghost buddy disappeared, and how to prevent it."

Nico snarled, looking less than amused. "His energy is dwindling. This is basic knowledge."

"What energy? Be more clear."

"You be more observant." Nico spat back. "It's energy, energy, his energy, your energy, all the energy. Gotta have energy to appease the balance. Energy, energy, energy."

Before Keith had time to respond, Nico slammed the door open fully. Keith jumped back, just nearly avoiding a collision. Lance stayed put, letting the object fly through him as always. Jordan was nowhere to be seen.

"Energy, energy, energy. I can provide what you need. It's basic stuff. Trickle here, trickle there. Power beyond the wildest imaginations. Dark magic. Dark, dark magic. Seeping through the walls and floors, it consumes us. Right this way." Nico waved a hand, prompting Keith to enter.

"So, you're going to fix him?"

"No. Power him. No one can fix a lost spirit. Not unless they're willing to sacrifice it all. Equal exchanges, that's the basis of black magic. No. All magic. We don't cut corners. Everything, everyone, every thought is equal."

"Right." Keith was about to debate this point, but decided otherwise. Instead, he followed suit with Nico's suggestion, and stepped through the passage into Nico's bedroom. Lance stayed close behind him, his transparent form glowing an ominous black. Inside, he saw Jordan. "Gah! When did he get here?"

"I've always been here, sir." Jordan said with a pout.

"So you can hear him?" Nico nodded with approval. "The worlds are muffled and grained from each other. Only with skillful care can one decider what they yammer. Me, of course, and now you."

"Wait a minute..." Keith's eyes darted between Lance's creepy brother and creepy... family member. His mind then wandered back to the time with Hunk on the phone. Lance spoke into it, and Hunk heard him. Not clearly, but the words were still somewhat comprehensible. Was that what Nico heard? And if so, did that mean -

"He's like me?" Lance swallowed, his voice shaky.

"He's a ghost?" Keith translated.

Jordan's eyes went black. His pupils expanded until no white was visible. His form - once whole - flicked in and out of existence. His expression, ever fading, shifted from a smile, to a pout, to a smirk, to a growl. Every second, Keith found himself forgetting more and more about the kid. What he looked like. Their past conversations. Jordan was truly inhuman. A phantom, a ghost. Dead. And, now that he knew the truth, that was all he could see. A spirit banished from its host. Walking, yet not breathing. Existing, yet, simultaneously, not.

"H - how?" Was all Keith managed. "Huh?"

"He needs energy." Nico declared. "He's a fading form. Young and young as always. Always young. But dead? That is the mystery."

Nico took a stride to the center of the room where a makeshift poster sprawled across the hardwood. On it, a pentagram was drawn in red sharpie. On its five corners, lit candles flickered with an invisible draft. For a moment, Keith thought the wind was coming from Jordan, but then noticed the vent just above him.

"I'm never going to die." The young boy said, his voice grim. "But I'm never going to live again either."

Nico took another candle from off the bed, and lit it with a swift flick of his wrist. One moment it was a harmless stick of wax, and the next it was ablaze because of a lighter Keith didn't realize was in Nico's palm. He placed it in the center of the pentagram and sat cross legged behind one point; bare feet on his thighs and hands clenched atop his knees. Looking dangerously close to the six flames, he closed his eyes and began to chant, "Life and death, death and life. One cannot exist without the other. Life and death, death and life. An equal exchange. Life and death, death and life." Nico opened his eyes and looked forward at nothing. "Jordan, the cage."

Jordan nodded, reached under the bunk bed, and pulled out a cage. Keith and Lance, too stunned to speak, watched in wide-eyed horror. It was an animal. A grotesque, patchy animal with white foam accumulated around its mouth, and eyes red and dilated. At first, because it was moving fast around the small, metal space, it was difficult to tell what the thing was. Then Keith figured it out. A squirrel. Jordan was holding a wild, rabies-infested squirrel. Keith doubled back. "What the fuck?!"

The animal chirped and hissed. It jumped from one end of the metal cage to the other. Though lively, its small body made little to no sound. The young, freaked-faced ghost had a face of - pity? sorrow? - as he held the handle as far away from his body as possible. He walked, or floated - it was hard to distinguish - to Nico. Without a glance up or a shift in his stone-like expression, Nico took it, and dangled the cage above the center of the pentagram.

"Ok, I've never seen him do this shit before." Even Lance looked horrified.

"Why - how - where did you get a squirrel with rabies?" Keith demanded. "And why the hell do you have a squirrel with rabies? And what the fuck am I doing here? I mean..." He glanced at Jordan. "frick, damn it!"

"I told you, I'm not a little kid." Jordan frowned.

"Why, when, where, how." Nico reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. "Questions, questions, questions. You done yet? I need to continue the ritual."

Keith took another step back, ready to dash. "Ok, ok. Stop right there. Before you do... whatever it is you're doing, tell me something. What are you planning on achieving and how?"

Nico gritted his teeth. "What and how? Questions, questions, questions. Just stand back, wonder eyes."

And, with that, Nico stabbed the animal. It was a gruesome scene. Nico's hand slammed down in a narrow arc, the blade of his knife cutting through the slit of the cage, and landing square into the squirrel's chest. It was surreal. One minute the creature was alive, and the next it was motionless in a pool of its own blood. The foam from its mouth bubbled and blood trickled from the sides of the cage, mixing with the thick candle wax below. Keith felt as though he was going to vomit. Lance's skin was green.

The candle in the center of the pentagram flicked upward, its orange flame danced through the air. As the blood splatter painted the poster, it grew more and more powerful. "Life and death, death and life." Nico repeated, but much louder. He no longer sounded like himself, but Nico and some other presence. "One died when they should not, so the others shall stay when they should not."

The flame flared blue, then red, then back to blue. Both Jordan and Lance screeched, which shook the room around them. They collapsed to the ground. Lance wrapped his hands around his neck and pulled his head to his knees, fingers clenching and unclenching his hair. His jaw was wide as the terrible wail continued. Keith ran to his side. "Lance!"

Lance's legs extended and bent at impossible angles as his body scrambled wildly to and fro. "Stop!" He yelped as the blood seeped into the cracks of the floorboards and extended to Jordan and Lance, turning from red to black as it soaked into their feet and arms. Lance was at one minute brown, then a pale white with visible black veins. The walls shook as blood gushed from behind its ripped wallpaper. "Stop! It hurts!"

Keith's throat was dry. They needed to get out of there. "Nico, stop this! You're hurting him!"

"Life and death, pain and joy. One cannot exist without the other." Nico chanted, his eyes ablaze. The lights overhead flickered and walls hummed a horrific sound.

"This isn't what I asked for!"

"Everything needs power. It cannot be created nor destroyed. Something - someone - needs to hand it over." Nico said, the second presence in his voice getting louder and louder, drowning out the original.

"There has to be another way!"

"I am the only way. You want to save him or the creature? There is no either or." Nico was gone. The phantom had completely consumed him.

Lance and Jordan screamed in unison. The fire shot up in a white blaze, hitting Keith with a wave of overwhelming heat. The ends of his hair singed and skin scorched. In a blink of an eye, Keith's willpower was obliterated. The pain was too much to handle. He wanted to die.

Then it all vanished.

ooo

I've been ghosting

I've been ghosting alone

Ghost in the world

Ghost with no home

I remember

I remember the days

When I'd make you oh, so afraid

~Mother Mother / Ghosting

ooo

Keith reached for Lance's hand and touched it.

It was solid in his own. Solid in front of Jordan. Solid in front of Nico.

Keith could feel Lance. His touch was more alive than ever. Soft skin, bony fingers. Keith tightened his grip and brought Lance's hand to his mouth, muttering the same few words: 'I can't lose this'. Lance's eyes were open to mere slits; a glimmer of deep blue that shone against his dark skin. Keith couldn't see through him.

He couldn't see through him.

Keith felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He moved Lance's hand to his eye and breathed in their shared air. "Are you hurt?"

"I feel..." Lance paused, "Sad."

"You're whole." Keith brushed his other hand against Lance's cheek whose expression was eerily blank.

Lance blinked once. "That's weird. I don't feel whole. I - I can... I can feel him inside me. His blood, his disease. Like... he's a part of me. His sorrow."

"Who?"

"Him. The creature. His life was short. I never knew how much an animal could feel. To love. To hurt. But, we're animals after all, aren't we? We just... take so many things for granted, you know?" Lance lifted his arm, hand trembling. No, his whole body was trembling. "I can feel the illness. It's clouding my brain. I - it's taking over. I'm no longer myself. I'm me, the illness, and the sorrow."

"No, no, no." Keith took both his hands and placed them on either side of Lance's head. Keith made sure Lance was looking at him by positioning his face inches from Lance's. His eyes were glass. This wasn't the Lance Keith knew. "Look at me Lance. It's me. J - just breath, ok."

"But I can't." His tone held no emotion. It was flat. Factual.

"Yes you can. You can breath, ok. Just... come back to me."

Lance took a sharp inhale, then exhaled shakily. "My breath feels cold. Why is it always so cold?"

Keith pulled Lance up and wrapped his arms around Lance's back. Though he didn't know what to do to help him, the least Keith could provide was his warmth. He hooked his fingers in Lance's soft, brown hair and clung to him like his life depended on it.

Perhaps it did.

Over Lance's shoulder, Keith narrowed his eyes at Nico. The brother in question was snuffing the last candle's flame. Everything looked so... normal. It was a wonder that seconds before the place was in total ruins. Black blood, red embers, stuff pulled straight from nightmares. But all that remained were Nico, sitting; Jordan, sitting; Lance, shivering in Keith's arms; and a cage, housing a dead, diseased animal. Nico's knife glimmered against the artificial, overhead light. A streak of crimson blood seeped down its blade.

Nico took the handle and drew it from the creature's chest. Lance gasped, his eyes wide and dilated. His mouth was ajar as though he wanted to scream but couldn't. A sound similar to a whimper escaped from the back of Lance's throat. Keith's heart sank. "Stop, you're hurting him!" He demanded.

"I helped him." Nico clarified.

"He's suffering!" Keith felt his blood boil beneath his skin, turning his complexion a fiery red.

"What do you not understand?" Nico stumbled to his feet, long, stick-like legs struggling to keep balance. "I. Helped. Him. Life and death, death and life. It's an equal exchange. You want to keep him here? Grounded? Than you have to make sacrifices. It's one creature's life for another. It was either going to die or live on in agony. I just ended its misery. What's the expression? Killing two rocks with one bird? Like that." Nico swiped the bloody side of his knife across his bare forearm. A gash appeared from it, red from both his and the squirrel's blood. Keith nearly gagged as he brought it to his face and licked it. Nico made a sour expression. "Salty."

"You're fucking insane!" Keith felt a wave a heat consume him. He knew this feeling all too well. Pure, unadulterated rage. He thought back to what Shiro hammered into his head: 'patience yields focus'.

"Am I? Or are you just too accustomed to this society's laws of normalcy to see the true world beyond the shadows of the cave wall?" Nico snarled. "I don't have time for your morality bullshit. Face it. I helped you. Or can you just not accept that because of how I look to you?" Nico stabbed his arm a second time and sliced down to his wrist. The two gashes created an x in his skin. He licked it again. "Better."

"Stop! Just, stop!" Keith demanded. He stood, leaving Lance kneeled on the floor. He was half infuriated and half concerned Nico was unflinchingly cutting himself. "I never asked for this, so stop fucking slashing yourself open. Do you think this is some sort of joke? Killing a fucking animal and messing with pentagrams, demons, and shit? You seriously don't feel an ounce of remorse for tormenting your goddamn brother?"

Keith felt the hand of regret around his neck the second the words left his mouth.

"I -"

"What?" Nico muttered, a shadow falling over his face.

Keith thinned his lips and inhaled sharply through his nose. On the floor, Lance looked up and turned his attention from his brother to Keith then back again.

"What did you just say?" Nico repeated. Louder. Angrier. Too angry. His ears steamed and droopy eyes watered. Nico's voice was hoarse, but he managed a shout.

Keith's Adam's apple bobbed as he took a gulp and met Nico's eyes directly.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Nico's knife clashed against the hardwood beside his feet and hands clawed for his own hair to yank it. His eyes bugged and bottom lip trembled. He was a complete mess, tripping over words and producing terrible noises that couldn't be classified as human. "WHY THE HELL?!"

"Nico!" Jordan yelped.

"How could I?" Keith protested. "Because I knew you would react like this!"

"Weeks! Weeks, I've been trying to contact him. H - he was gone. Didn't respond. Deceased, dead, finished. Do you know what I sacrificed? Do you know what I was about to sacrifice?" This got Lance to stand. "I - I was about to do it. But I was a coward. I'm a coward. He was dead. He was gone. He's not here. No, no. He's not here!"

"What did you expect?" Keith clenched his fists. 'Patients yields focus, patients yields focus'. "Lance died and I just happen to appear sporting a ghost not long afterward? Who did you think it was? My Mom? My Dad? Some stranger? No! I don't know any of those people nor do I give a rat's ass about them. Lance is the only fucking family I have, and if you think you can get away with hurting him, you better think about running because I'll slam that sour face of yours to the concrete."

Nico made the aforementioned sour face and yanked his cut arm. Even if it stung, Nico made no signs of it doing so. "He's my family, not yours." He hissed, slumped low. His baggy, black t shirt hung loosely around his slender body. When he shifted, Keith could spot the outline of his ribcage beneath the fabric.

"Ha." Keith laughed humorlessly. "What, so you think Lance doesn't care about me? Well, maybe you should ask him if that's true before you go around spewing nonsense."

"He's my brother." Nico's fingers grasped his gashes and turned sharply around his forearm. Keith winced for him. "I've known him since he was born. How long have you known him? Weeks? Months? Years? Well, whoop de doo. Nothing can transcend the power and connection of blood."

"Love." Keith corrected. "Love can."

Nico's eyebrows furrowed. It was no longer Lance, Keith, Nico, and Jordan. It was only the two, going back and forth, argument after argument, both reaching for the same reward: Lance's favoritism.

"Love doesn't exist, you fucking idiot. It's just a bunch of connections in the brain which confuses lust for this fictitious illusion known as love. Life is food, sleep, sex, nothing more."

"You're wrong."

"No, no I'm not." Nico dragged his tongue up his bloodied arm a third time. He finished with a smack of his lips before continuing. "Don't you see? You're just a warm mouth to him. He doesn't give a damn about you."

"Fuck you."

"You're just there to fulfill his desires. Our bond isn't so imbecile. We're brothers. Friends. My only friend..." Nico's voice trailed.

"We aren't like that." Keith persisted.

"Oh, really?" Nico's features pinched. His long, black bangs clung to his damp forehead and cheeks. "You honestly believe he would stay with you if he didn't have to? If you didn't have a mouth to kiss or a body to fuck?"

"Stop!" Keith demanded. "Stop, it's not true. I - it's not!"

"Food and sex are only temporary pleasures. He'll get bored of you eventually. Eat too much of a certain food, he'll get sick of it. Sees the same face each and every day? He'll grow bored of it. Just you wait, wonder eyes. Just you wait."

Keith clasped his hands to his ears and collapsed to his knees. "Stop, stop, stop. Lance is mine. I can't lose him! I can't, I can't. You can't take him away from me again."

The world around Keith blurred. The sounds muffled then muted. His head was spinning with doubts and the awful things he heard. Just a warm mouth. Just a body to fuck. As dispensable as a scrap of food. Eat too much, the taste becomes a bore. Bore, unneeded. Bore, unwanted. Keith the bore.

It wasn't until seconds - minutes? - later that Keith snapped out of his trance via a familiar voice which rung in his ear. "Keith! Keith, it's ok. It's not true. Don't listen to him. I'm here, I'm here." Lance's hand entwined with his own. Keith squeezed. Warm skin, long fingers.

Keith blinked awake. He was happy to be greeted with Lance's face, but, simultaneously, dreaded it. "I'm sorry." Keith said, pulling Lance's hand,once again, to his mouth.

Lance shook his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I - I know, just... Let me say it. Please."

Lance paused, then nodded in agreement. "Let's get you out of here." He whispered, hoisting Keith back into a standing position.

"Lance, you don't have to go with him." Nico called. Though he couldn't see Lance, Keith had a feeling Nico could sense his brother's presence in some form. "You're no longer bound to him. Stay with me. Stay with us." He gestured to Jordan, who poked his head out from behind Nico's legs. He looked particularly young and boyish hidden behind his much older companion.

The corners of Lance's lips tugged downward, his gaze holding sadness beyond comprehension. He let go of Keith and took a step toward his family. "I'm sorry." He muttered, though he knew they couldn't hear. "I love you, but I can't leave him. Even if I can, I won't. And, yes, there is such a thing as love. I should know, I've found it."

Lance turned to Keith. He held out his hand palm-up. Keith took it. Soft skin, bony fingers. Brown skin against peach. Two boys connected by flesh and heart. 'I can't lose this', Keith repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

"He says no." Keith translated.

ooo

On their way out of the house, Keith caught Mr. McClain's glower and hastily averted his eyes. Lance and Keith's hands unhooked as they made their way down the hall and to the car.