Chapter Text
Larry drafts a note that reads EMERGENCY MEETING IN LARRY'S ROOM. LIVES ARE AT STAKE and pays Chug a dollar fifty to slip it under Todd's door. The redhead in question comes down, looking confused, to see Sal in a heap of blankets on his best friend's bed and Larry himself eating potato chips on the floor.
Todd pushes his glasses up, looking like a nerd from one of those teen movies that Sal can never force himself to watch. There's always at least one cringeworthy scene that puts guys like him down. (Not that he's entirely sure what type of guy that would be.) "What seems to be the problem?" he asks.
"I'm being haunted by Casper the Friendly Ghost," Sal says, a bit lazily. He's not entirely sure how dangerous this situation is, though Larry seems to be convinced that Sal is a day and a half from meeting a ghostly fate, no pun intended.
"You're ... being haunted? More than usual?" There are dozens of ghosts in Addison Apartments, after all.
"More than usual," Sal agrees. "It's in my apartment. Some shit keeps happening that nobody else would have done, like, hands on me and shit, so... ghost."
"Ghost," Todd agrees.
"Ghost," Larry grumbles. "How do we get rid of it?"
"Well, we don't know if it's dangerous or not, right?" Todd asks. "When you say hands 'on you', what do you mean?"
"I got shaken awake when the burglary happened," Sal says, reaching over to steal a chip from Larry. "So like, good ghost? Telling me I was being robbed?"
"Bad ghost made you get a gun to your head," Larry points out, which, well, is true, but, well, Sal kind of has a good feeling about her, whoever she is! Maybe Larry's just worried. But even thinking Larry and worried in the same sentence is kind of difficult, because Larry's one of the most laidback people Sal's ever met. Rivaling maybe Ashley, of course.
"Well, regardless, we'll need to find a way to decipher it from other ghosts in case someone other than you runs into it. Can you name any attributes that stick out to you?"
Sal hums, feeling like he's being interrogated. "Well, the hands didn't look all that masculine. They were wearing fake nails."
"Fake nails," Todd says, and scrunches up his face. He looks slightly constipated, so Sal stifles a giggle. "I swear I heard something on the news this morning about fake nails. Oh, well, it probably has no significance."
"So how do we get rid of it?" Larry asks. "Sure, it might be all nice, but it's in Sal's bedroom, dude! What if something creepy happens?"
"We'll just have to ride it out," Todd says, with a smile that looks a little more like a grimace, and oh, those are famous last words.
-
Sal walks by Mr. Addison's apartment on his way to visit Miss Rosenberg, who had wanted to check up on him after the break-in. Mr. Addison is so rarely the one who initiates conversations that when he hears the click of the slot opening, Sal jumps half of a foot. Had Mr. Addison just been waiting on the other end of the door, waiting for somebody to walk by?
"Sal," he says, uncomfortably formal. "Sal, would you bring this cup of tea to Miss Rosenberg? Save her the trouble?"
"Oh, yeah, sure," Sal says, taking a few steps back. It's not that he doesn't like Mr. Addison, per se, and Sal can completely understand wanting privacy, but he's probably the person that Sal knows the least in the apartment complex. Hell, Sal knows some of the ghosts in this building better than he knows Mr. Addison. They've never really left that 'politely awkward' stage of communication.
And it seems that they never will, because right after Mr. Addison gives him the tea, he looks at Sal's outfit in what seems to be disgust. "Did you buy your jeans with those holes in them?"
"Did you buy this apartment building with holes in it?"
Mr. Addison stares at him, and then closes the slot. Sal takes that as the end of the conversation and continues on to Miss Rosenberg's apartment.
"Oh, sweetheart!" she says, the second that he walks in the door. "I've been so worried about you!"
"It's alright, Miss Rosenberg," Sal says, smiling even though she can't see it. (Not that she'd want to see his smile, since it's full of missing teeth and no lips.) "I'm fine, see!"
"The second I heard that something happened in the apartment, I just knew it affected you. I just knew. I was asking everybody who came to visit me if they knew whether or not the girl in 402 was okay."
It's weird, visiting Miss Rosenberg, especially since every other day there are neighbors whispering in the halls about how she had a "close call" last night. But she's always been nice to Sal, even though she doesn't know that he's a boy, so he gives her the cup of tea and answers all of her questions.
Forgive him for even thinking it, but Sal doesn't want her to die. He's tired of having people die, and he's tired of ghosts. God, he's so tired of ghosts, no matter how cool they are. He likes his privacy, dude! With ghosts, there isn't really such thing as privacy anymore. They could always be there.
"It was scary, but I'm fine now," Sal says. It's pretty much true! If Sal can brush off demons, ghosts, and all that stuff, he can brush off a gun, too.
She's either too old or too oblivious to doubt him. Sal's not sure if she's wrong to do so.
-
Sal likes watching Larry paint. It's pretty cool, watching him concentrate on something like this. As Larry paints the brown of the bark on a tree, Sal finds himself mesmerized by each flick of the wrist. It's so relaxing that Sal can almost feel himself falling asleep.
Their lives have been pretty crazy lately. Not even counting all this haunting shit, there's enough stuff going on, like with Larry's dad. It's nice to have quiet moments like this, where they can just take a minute to breathe.
Larry pauses, turns around to see Sal curled up on the bed and the book he'd been reading for English discarded next to him. "Are you falling asleep on my bed?" Larry asks.
"Do you mind?" Sal responds.
Larry takes a breath, a little inhale that's too quick to be calm. Sal doesn't really know why, so he just assumes that maybe he forgets to breathe while being concentrated on painting. Or something. Is that something that artists do? Sal's never drawn anything in his life.
"Yeah," Larry says, barely audible. The next time he speaks, he sounds more like himself. "Yeah, dude, that's alright. You're probably tired as shit, with all this ghost stuff happening. It seems like you're at the middle of it."
"Oh?" Sal says. "It's not really me. It's the building."
"True," Larry agrees. "But Todd didn't really ghost hunt before you came. And I didn't even think they existed until you showed me."
Sal hums and then falls asleep.
-
Ashley hits him with a paper airplane in the middle of English. He glares at her, and even though his eyes are barely visible, he likes to think that she can feel it. "Read it," she mouths, so he begrudgingly grabs the thing to do so.
Todd says you're being haunted? followed by a small picture of a cartoon ghost. It's kind of cute. Ashley's a good artist.
Yeah, he writes back. I know you're not a big believer but it's fucking weird. Instead of folding it back into an airplane, he passes it back to a blond boy with braces, who passes it to Ashley.
Mel has a conspiracy theory about it. Can she and I hang out w/ you and Todd tonight? Get the deets?
What's the harm?
-
Mel shows up with coffees for everybody and a blush on her cheeks. From the way Ashley follows her, Sal can only assume that there had been some corny love confession a few minutes prior. "I have a theory," she bellows into Sal's bedroom. Gizmo is stretched out onto Larry's lap from where he sits on the floor and is receiving fantastic belly scratches. Sal has never seen Gizmo like anybody, including himself, the way that Gizmo loves Larry. It's almost like the stupid cat knows-
"Tell us," Sal says, eager. "Did you get salted caramel?"
"Just for you, pumpkin," she responds in a faux sultry accent, giving him his drink and dispending the others to their friends. Sal responds with a cheesy thanks, darlin' while Ashley calls them both dorks. Sal notices that Larry looks happy with his coffee. Larry also looks like he's flustered, but Sal's too nice of a guy to ask him why in front of everybody.
Mel slumps down on Sal's bed, pulling Ashley down to sit next to her. "Sal, my info has gone from Todd to Ashley to me. Shit gets lost in translation, you feel me? Tell me everything about the ghost."
So he tells her, and he even mentions the fact that some stuff has been happening that he can't remember the origins of, like the outfit and the sandwich. "You didn't think that this was vital information?" Todd demands.
"I forget things!" Sal defends himself, flinging his hands around everywhere like a loser. "I don't even remember what happened last week, man! It's not out of the ordinary!" As he says it, he realizes that there's something else. There's something else that happened, but he can't remember it. But it doesn't feel like forgetting. It feels like a memory has been taken and stashed away, and he needs it, but it's not there.
"Wait, wait, wait, you said fake nails?" Mel demands. "Did you see a color?"
Sal drums his fingers on his coffee cup and tries to remember. "No, sorry."
"Aw, man," Mel says. "I totally thought that it might have been the thing that killed those two guys."
"Killed what two guys?" Larry asks, and he seems to be having some severe chest pains now that the topic of death has been brought up.
"You know, the burglars?" Mel says, and then elaborates on the blank looks. "The guys who put a gun to Sal's head?"
Todd honest-to-God screams. Ashley covers her ears. "That's what I heard on the news!"
"What?" Sal asks. The guys who put a gun to his head died? And nobody told him? Nobody, in Todd's words, thought that this was vital information?
"The fake nail. There was a nail on the floor! They were going to try to DNA test it! Sal, that ghost might not be so friendly after all!"
"Shit," Sal says. "Shit! What do we do?"
"Look, I don't like this," Ashley says. "I don't even believe in this and it's freaking me out. Can't we exorcise it or something?"
The air in the room goes cold, and Sal knows that something's going to happen a millisecond before it does. An old, ugly vase that had been in the corner of his room ever since they moved here flings across the room. The only thing that keeps it from hitting Ashley directly between the eyes is Mel grabbing her and pushing her out of harm's way. The vase in question shatters against his wall at the impact, little shards of clay scattering over his room.
There's a brief moment of silence. And then, "Holy shit, dude," Larry says. "That is so uncool. This is so, so uncool."
"Are you okay, babe?" Mel asks, quieter than Sal has ever heard her. Ashley doesn't talk, she just nods.
Holy shit. There's a murderer of a ghost in his bedroom right now. One that likes to throw fucking vases at his friends.
Sal takes a deep breath. "Well, guys," he says, voice lighter than he feels. "You might want to take a second to leave while I clean this up, okay? Wouldn't want you getting cut by glass or anything."
Ashley and Mel basically book it out of the room, with Todd following close behind. "I think I'll stay," Larry says, quiet, and helps Sal clean up.
Neither of them talk about what just happened, or how to fix it. They're too afraid that she's listening.
-
"You just wouldn't understand, Sal," his dad says over leftover lasagna. It's all they ever eat anymore - leftovers. Leftover pizza, leftover macaroni and cheese, leftover soup. They don't really have that much money anymore, and his dad doesn't know how to cook anything halfway decent anyway. "It's been rough for me."
Sal grits his teeth together, feels the gaps in his mouth. He doesn't want to yell. He loves his dad. He understands. "I know," Sal says. "But that's not enough, you know? I need you, too. You're my dad."
His dad laughs, but nothing's funny. "I'm sorry," Henry says, and he sounds like he means it. "I won't leave you alone anymore. That was a mistake. Just know I've had a rough time lately."
"I do," Sal says. He doesn't really want to be here. There are so many jokes and deflections somewhere in his throat but it seems so wrong to let any of them out. He wishes he was with Larry or Ashley or all of them, pretending that none of this was happening.
His dad closes his eyes, takes a sip of the diet soda and looks like he's gearing himself up to say something. "Look," he says. "I hope you never have to know what it feels like to lose someone that important. But I did."
"I lost her, too!" Sal says. Screw this. Screw sympathy. And, standing up, he says, "and at least it wasn't your fault." He sees it in his dad's face. He knows that they both feel that way.
"Sal," his dad says, but he's already storming out.
-
The memory comes back the second he leaves the apartment complex. One minute he's walking and the next he's falling, steadying himself before completely landing on his ass.
Holy shit, how had he forgotten? How had he forgotten this?
Already realizing that his new realization is so much more important than the general store he was going to walk towards, he sprints around the building and towards the door that leads to Larry's bedroom. He pounds on it with both fists. "Larry, we're so dumb!" he calls down.
Larry's opening the door within a second. He has paint on his shirt, and there's something on the easel behind him that looks blue and white, but it's too early to distinguish what it is. "Why?" Larry asks. "What'd you figure out?"
"The stupid triangle ritual," Sal says. "The night we got ice cream. The guy. Wynona."
Larry looks as if he'd completely forgotten about it, too. "Oh, dude," he says. "Oh, man, we gotta tell Todd."
Sal grabs Larry by his paint-covered hand and drags him through the other door. "Come on."
-
Todd blows a raspberry with his lips, rubbing the area between his eyebrows in concentration. "And you both forgot this? It's not that you thought it was unimportant, you simply didn't remember?"
"Yeah," Sal says. "I know that sounds crazy. I could remember sneaking out and coming back but everything in between, I couldn't remember."
"And, Larry? You felt the same?"
"Uh, yeah?" Larry says. "I mean, I guess. I don't know if I forgot or just didn't think about it."
Todd purses his lips. "I would like to think that you two would have been smart enough to put two and two together, had you been able to remember. So, have you considered that maybe this wasn't just simply forgetting?"
"What?" Sal asks. "What do you mean? I didn't like, repress it."
"You said that you remembered right after you left the apartment building," Todd says. "What if that has significance?"
Sal looks over at Larry in a way that hopefully says what the hell? It seems to translate because Larry's eyebrows are furrowed so tightly together it looks like he only has one. "Explain, please," Sal says.
"This ghost threw a vase at Ashley for suggesting to get rid of her. What if this ritual is how to do it? What if it would have been more convenient for the spirit if you had forgotten?"
"You think she got in our heads?" Larry says, and that is the voice of Larry when he had seen Megan for the first time. He's scared.
"It makes sense," Sal says. "But then why isn't she throwing shit at us right now?"
"I'm sorry, Sal," Todd says, "but it seems she only has physical control in your apartment. Meaning you're the one in the most danger."
Well, life was nice while it lasted.