Chapter Text
There was a ghost following a man.
Well— that happened fairly often in Taurtis’ many years of experience, but the thing that made it noteworthy was that the ghost was new.
His form was barely there, easily miss-able as the newly dead always were before they learned how to control and contain their energy to their own form.
“I’m just saying that you’re lucky I love you.” The ghost was saying, which was probably the reason Taurtis had noticed him in the first place. “Because if I had missed your funeral I would never hear the end of it! You’d poltergeist me and you know it.” The man he was speaking to obviously wasn’t responding, but that didn’t stop the ghost from rambling on and on and on. “And you still haven’t come to see me, man.” The ghost threw his hands up in defeat. “You could at least bring me some flowers. Poppies.” He quirked a half smile before it fell clean off his face. He waited as the living man, his friend, waited at the curb for traffic to slow. “They’re so worried about you, G. Mumbs is gonna stage an intervention if you don’t stop being all you about this.”
The man walked across the road, leaving his ghost to follow at his heels, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets and a concerned expression set on his face.
Taurtis frowned and shook his head of the whole thing. It wasn’t his business, now was it?
And even if he did step in (which he wasn’t) what would he say? Hey, dude, your spectral buddy is worried about you- yeah, no- I’m not crazy. Pinky promise, cross my heart, hope to die.
That always went over well in the past.
It was besides the point, anyways. Taurtis wasn’t going to say anything to the dirty blond in the red sweater who looked like a light breeze could tip him over. Wasn’t going to run after him to see how deep the bags under his eyes were, offer to buy him a coffee and find a way to tell him he saw ghosts without ruining his own life in the process.
The man had already crossed the street anyhow, and the cars swarmed the space he had taken seconds ago.
So Taurtis turned on his heel and opened the door to his favourite cafe.
He didn’t know if he could forgive someone for missing his funeral, let alone be so concerned for them after the fact.
He shook his head of the thought, shooting a smile to the barista, who was greeting him. The man would be fine, the ghost would be fine, and none of it was his concern.
Poppies.
Okay, maybe Taurtis wasn’t good at letting things go.
Maybe letting things go was one of Taurtis’ weakest skills. Maybe it couldn’t even be called a skill, in fact some might even say it was his biggest weakness; digging his heels into things it would be better to move on from.
Maybe he couldn’t stop thinking about the ghost following the man who’d missed his own funeral. Maybe he couldn’t stop thinking about the man who had missed what must’ve been a close friend’s funeral while looking so utterly wrecked about the whole thing.
Maybe, when Taurtis picked out his weekly flowers to bring to the cemetery, maybe he’d picked poppies.
Just because they were on sale (they were not). Just because they happened to be there (he had gone to three florists and called ahead to make sure there were some there). Just because—
He really wasn’t fooling anyone (even himself).
The important thing was, he had gotten poppies, and he was going to leave them at a few of the graves that still had souls attached to them.
Taurtis wasn’t going to his favourite cemetery.
His favourite cemetery was empty save for three ghosts. A young woman who enjoyed people watching far too much to cross over, and older man who had been the groundskeeper for the cemetery, and the man’s dog (who was not a guard dog, despite the man’s insistence of the fact).
Every other ghost had passed on, or in one case, were following their family line through the generations, periodically messing with them and pushing them out of danger when the situation called for it.
The graveyard he was going to, though, had been much more full when he’d first walked through. Full of ghosts, at least.
That was the crummy bit of seeing ghosts, most of them tended to cross over when they’d been around him long enough. Found peace.
A bit ironic, in Taurtis’ mind, that he was the only one who could see them, and yet they always disappeared at some point, gone from even his eyes.
He didn’t know where they went. He didn’t know if he wanted to. Taurtis’ personally thought they lived again, started over in a new life, a new body, with none of the memories of their other life. It was another thing Taurtis didn’t say in hopes people wouldn’t think he was crazy.
Back to what he was thinking, though, it had the effect of making Taurtis move for graveyard to graveyard when the only ghosts left were (very usually) the kind that didn’t particularly care for his company.
It had the much more subtle (and weirder) effect that Taurtis knew every single cemetery in the area. He was sure other people would react perfectly reasonably about that little fact.
His most recent cemetery was about half full, and he’d been going there for just about two and a half years. He used to bring a lot more than just one bundle of flowers (which had been fun to lug around), so really, he had nothing to complain about with the bundle of poppies.
The bundle of poppies that had fallen to the concrete and out of their paper bag because Taurtis was too busy thinking about how weird his life was to realize he was in someone’s way. He opened his mouth to apologize.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, that was my bad, I wasn’t paying any attention at all, I’m so sorry, mate.”
Taurtis blinked. That wasn’t his voice.
Someone was already reaching down to pick his flowers up. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” Were his hands clammy? He sounded weird, didn’t he? Too soft. He needed to speak up if he expected anyone to hear him— and the man he had bumped into was being so nice about the whole thing, like Taurtis hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time (and that was something he was good at). He should probably say something else- apologize for being in the way and then making the man pick up his own flowers. He looked down at the man, about to lean down himself to take over, let the other man go. “Oh!”
The man’s head shot up to look at him, and Taurtis couldn’t help that he stared for a moment as he saw the familiar ghost behind him, looking far more solid.
The ghost looked at him oddly, and in the span of a second his eyes widened and Taurtis blinked and schooled his expression into something normal.
“Here.” The man stood and held the flowers out for Taurtis.
“Did you just look at me?”
Taurtis’ eyes darted behind the man to stare into the ghost’s eyes. He wasn’t going to ignore him like an asshole, but he also wasn’t going to broadcast it to the rest of the world.
The ghost’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t expect that to work.”
Taurtis thought back on the last time he’d heard the ghost speak. He didn’t have to think too hard, he’d been thinking about it nearly non-stop. He took the bag from the man and pulled one of the poppies out, dropping it into the man’s hand.
He hoped he’d done it quickly enough he hadn’t seen Taurtis’ hand shaking.
“As thanks.” Taurtis said.
He ducked around the man and didn’t respond to the ghost calling for him to wait. He ignored him. Like an asshole.
Taurtis enjoyed his job.
He liked keeping people from making ghosts, sue him. He was in a unique position to know just how much a terrible and painful death could impact someone, so yeah, he wanted to do his part to keep it from happening as best as he could.
It had helped that he had ghosts who were happy to help him study. Ghosts who didn’t mind telling him about how their injuries or illnesses had felt if it meant that Taurtis could help someone living with the same issue.
It made people think he was a bit of a teacher’s pet, but he couldn’t help that. It was a better label than freak, if he was being honest with himself.
Now that he was an EMT full time, labels like teacher’s pet hardly mattered. It was more about who could be a warm body for hours and hours on end and who would come in the moment someone called out. Taurtis didn’t have much of a life, so he somehow managed to get the title of teacher’s pet again, in a situation where there were no teachers.
He was just good at his job and was lucky enough he was always free to pick up a shift. No friends to visit, or family to call. Just Taurtis.
And the ghosts, of course. He couldn’t forget the ghosts.
(Even if he wanted to.)
He was close to the end of his shift when he saw the man and ghost again. It had taken him off guard, there wasn’t a situation where it wouldn’t catch him off guard, but he was a professional, and the teen sitting next to where the man was standing looked to be in a much worse situation.
The ghost stuck with his friend, though he shot Taurtis looks every so often, eyes darting to the teen and back at him, like he wanted to ask if he was alright more than anything.
When Taurtis had given him a basic check up and cleaned up his lip a bit, he spoke loud enough for the ghost and man to hear.
“Okay, you’re looking alright, buddy. We’re gonna take you to the hospital just to be safe, but we can wait for your guardian to join us, if you’d like?” A jerky nod. “Do you wanna call them, or would you prefer-” He didn’t have to finish the question, Tommy was already dialing his phone. “While you do that, I’m gonna check over him unless you’ve got any questions for me?”
Tommy shook his head, and Taurtis stood up and allowed himself to look over at the man, who was staring back into the alley they had been mugged in.
Almost mugged.
The ghost glanced over and sighed in relief.
“Thank god, he’s zoning out, I don’t exactly know how to help when I’m-” He cut himself off, fisting a hand in his hair, watching him expectantly.
Taurtis’ expression firmed as he nodded just enough the ghost could see. He guided the man to sit in the back of the ambulance. Not in, he had a feeling that may make the situation worse.
“Tommy mentioned you called this in?”
“Did he also mention that he wasn’t even a part of the mugging? Just stepped in like a moron?”
The man nodded. Taurtis flashed his penlight in the his eyes, checking for concussion.
“Good thinking.” He ignored the ghost for the moment. “Most people have a hard time thinking straight during stuff like that. No concussion for you, my friend.” He glanced over his shoulder, where the ghost was staring at the gurney with a deep frown. Oh. “I should learn your name if I’m gonna keep bumping into you.”
The ghost’s head snapped over, a small smile budding. “Scar.”
“Not just for the paperwork?”
Taurtis laughed softly. “That too. I’m Taurtis, if it helps.”
“Nice to meet you, Taurtis.”
“Grian.”
Taurtis heard his partner pull a clipboard from its pocket. “...Okay I might need the last name too. For the paperwork.”
“Crescent.”
“Nice name.” He reached for the clipboard and nodded his thanks at his partner. “Alright, now onto the boring stuff.”
In between Grian’s answers, the ghost would inform Taurtis of things he really had no business knowing.
“He kept the poppy.” Was the first comment. “He hasn’t even gone to my grave yet, can you believe it?” Was the second. “I mean, I’d be a mess too if the roles were reversed, but he’s taking this really bad.” Third. “It’s gotta be worse now since the last time he was in one of these I was dead.”
That last one made Taurtis glance over to Scar, who was back to staring down at his friend. Sad and unable to do anything to help.
Taurtis didn’t have a reason to keep Grian there when he was clearly uninjured, so he only watched him and his ghost walk away with a pit in his stomach.
Sad and unable to do anything to help.
“Hmmm.” Grian hummed. “Why?”
Taurtis jumped a bit, like he hadn’t expected the question. “I guess the same reasons as you?” His voice went up an octave before he cleared his throat, trying to ignore Scar perched on his own grave, kicking his feet happily as he listened in. “I mean, you said it best, I think. People get scared easily, yeah, but maybe there’s some truth it.” There. That sounded believable, didn’t it?
He snuck a glance at the ghost.
“Right.” Grian deadpanned. “Not because you can see Scar right there?” He jerked his thumb to the exact spot Scar was.
The ghost folded over on himself, laughing loud enough Taurtis was shocked Grian couldn’t hear it. “Told-” He gasped out. “Told you he was smart.” He slowly faced the ghost. “It’s fine.” Scar brushed off.
Taurtis didn’t say anything, and Scar’s laughter petaled out.
“Dude,” He said. “It’s seriously alright. He already guessed it, anyways.”
Taurtis nodded.
Grian slowly followed his gaze, expression entirely unreadable in a way that should terrify him.
He’d lost so many friends to this. Hell, he’d given up on live friends years ago! The moment Taurtis let loose something about ghosts, about death, about any of the weird stuff he knew, he was fucked. He’d lost jobs over this- but Scar wasn’t concerned. And he could trust Scar. Probably. Maybe. He could at least trust Scar to know Grian, right? And if he said-
“Tell him the llamas are the ugliest little things ever and an honor to my memory.” Scar pushed. “Tell him the little llamas are my favourite thing ever and I’m upset I didn’t find it myself for my garden.”
“He. Um.” Grian didn’t look away from the ghost he couldn’t see. “He’s saying something about llamas? I don’t know if that makes any sense, but he really wants me to say it—”
Grian broke down laughing, like the final straw, and Taurtis opened his mouth to take it all back, say it was a cruel joke, because everything was going wrong and no one was supposed to know, it would be better for Grian to hate him than think he was crazy-
“Calm down, buddy.” Scar reached out a hand, but pulled it back into his lap quickly with a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “G’s alright. Cross my heart.” He turned to watch Grian laughing. “Hope to die.”
He tried to believe it.
“Jesus Christ.” Grian got out. He tried to make eye contact with Scar, but it was a bit hard when he couldn’t see him. “Worst first date ever, man.” He propped a hand on his hip, other hand coming up to massage his temples. “This is so weird.”
“At least it couldn’t have gone worse.” Scar chimed in.
“At least no date could be worse?” Taurtis repeated, feeling a bit faint. Grian was right, this was so weird.
“Right, right. This is so weird.”
“Hey!” Scar snapped his fingers as if coming up with something. “You can take him out! He can use your ghost powers to talk to me and he can finally go on a normal date!” He hopped off the grave and stood next to Grian. “They grow up so fast!” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “I want him back by eleven, and no funny business!”
“I’m not saying that, man!” Taurtis muttered under his breath, hoping to speak to the ghost and the ghost alone.
“What?”
Taurtis’ face flushed. “He said you missed his funeral.” He lied, pulling on something Scar had said the first time he’d seen the ghost.
“Coward.”
“I did, but that’s not what he said, is it?”
To his other side, one of the other remaining ghosts tried to muffle her laughter. Taurtis stared at her in betrayal.
“Are there… other ghosts here?” Grian guessed.
He nodded. “Yes, and they are very annoying.” He glared at Laura, who really had no business laughing at him when she had been too busy to talk to him just the week before.
“Right.” Grian agreed. “What did they say? You’re all flushed.” He quirked his head.
“Nothing that matters,” Taurtis said, annoyance dripping into his voice. “Trust me, Grian. They’re all gossips and nothing they say matters.”
“Okay okay, I’m sorry, man!” Scar very clearly didn’t mean it. “But could you tell him something for me?”
Taurtis crossed his arms. “Scar is saying he needs to tell you something.”
Grian tried to follow Taurtis’ gaze, and waited.
“Tell him I’ve given you my blessing and he needs to take advantage of your ghost stuff.”
“Dude!”
Grian sighed, fighting to keep the smile off his face and failing. “Annoying even in death.” He said sagely. “Whatever he’s saying, he won’t stop until you tell me.”
In all his years being haunted, this was the only time he truly felt haunted. Scar giggling himself silly wasn’t helping at all.
“C’mon, man! It’s my final wish! The only thing tying me to this mortal plane.”
He swallowed. “He said to date me for my ghost powers.”
He didn’t know what reaction he was waiting for, but it didn’t come.
Grian shrugged. “It’s not the worst idea he’s had.” Taurtis blinked, mouth open, but no sound came out. “What? It’s true. His last idea was to tell someone with a gun he wouldn’t shoot him, so.”
“That was not my fault! It almost worked, tell him it almost worked! You should’ve seen it, Taurtis, I had the guy pinned, talked circles around him really, it must’ve been a misfire, I swear!”
“He’s very insistent that it almost worked.”
Taurtis didn’t know how he’d gotten to this.
Standing in the entrance of a bowling alley staring in at the group of people all hanging out in one of the lanes. There had to be a dozen or more people, and Taurtis didn’t know a single one of them. They were loud, and Taurtis watched gutter ball after gutter ball, which was extra surprising since it looked like the owner of the alley was apart of the group and had just gone.
It was a little sad, actually.
There were no ghosts.
“Are we just going to stand here all night?” Grian asked from where he stood next to Taurtis. “Just ‘cause Scar can’t give you cheat sheets on people anymore doesn’t mean you don’t still have to meet them.”
Maybe that was why it felt so weird.
Scar had become such a fixture in his life, so had Grian obviously, but Grian was still there.
Like every ghost he talked to, Scar faded.
They always did.
How Grian could stand to be in the same room as him, he’d never know, but the man was holding onto his hand tightly, and he knew he was just as nervous as Taurtis was.
They were Grian’s friends, though. So that meant something.
But Grian hadn’t seen them all in ages, hadn’t been ready to. Grian still didn’t feel ready, Taurtis could tell. His hands were clammy, his fingernails bitten in stress, and he’d stayed at Taurtis’ the night before to tell him about an intervention that had not gone well-
Taurtis took the first step in, blasted with heat from a vent above them. He waited for Grian to join him in the warmth, and squeezed his hand when he did.
Grian raised his hand in a wave, didn’t even need to say anything before several people swarmed them, nearly tripping in their ugly bowling shoes as both of them were dragged to the lanes.
Names flew over Taurtis’ head, and he worried he’d never keep them straight-
There was a lopsided cake on one of the tables with messy green frosting spelling out:
Happy Birthday Scar!