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Thomas wouldn’t be lying if someone said that he had been avoiding Guy-Man like the plague for the last week. Because he was completely and utterly avoiding Guy-Man, and both of them knew that. It wasn’t hard to tell, when they were the only two living in the house and had pretty much become best friends. But Guy-Man himself knew it wasn’t worth trying to pressure Thomas into speaking again. His friend would finally confront him when he was able to.
Being friends with a ghost was much different than being friends with a human, after all. They had their delicate issues with the fact that they died, and that there had to be some underlying reason about their still being here. Because souls should pass on into the next life unless something was keeping them back. Guy-Man wasn’t sure if Thomas truly knew what he needed to do, but he didn’t want to intrude. This was Thomas’s afterlife, not his.
But he was selfish when he thought that he wouldn’t want Thomas to go to the afterlife. That would be losing his best friend, and the possibility of never seeing him again. He truly didn’t know what going to the afterlife meant, and although Thomas probably didn’t either, he was still much closer to the aspect than Guy-Man was. Guy-Man just didn’t want to lose his best friend.
Best friends with a ghost, huh? He wondered if there had been stranger happenings.
But they really were best friends now. Thomas was the partner that he always needed when it came to music. He knew exactly what to say, and had some of the greatest ideas he had ever heard. He was such a unique boy, it always saddened Guy-Man to remember that he had died so young and had to deal with such shitty circumstances. Guy-Man was pretty much living Thomas’s ideal dream. He knew that. And he wished he could do something to change it, but the fact of the matter was that there wasn’t. There wasn’t really anything he could do besides keep Thomas company.
Which was a slight problem when the ghost boy was avoiding him.
He stood in front of the door to Thomas’s bedroom, debating whether or not he should enter. He knew that Thomas would just fade into the tiny flame and hide in the closet if he did though. Guy-Man set his hand on the wooden door and sighed. He had promised Elodie that he’d be working on his music to be able to show her a rough draft of some songs, but he had been completely and utterly stuck since that day she came for coffee. And it was because of Thomas. He could see the hurt in his eyes, and the way he just phased through the wall like it was nothing was a big deal.
Thomas always got stuck. Even if just for a split second, he always got stuck.
Guy-Man turned the doorknob and entered the small room with its hideous avocado colored walls. He saw a flash immediately zoom into the closet. When he opened the door to the closet, he allowed himself to get on his knees and scoot into the dimly lit closet. A tiny flame was in the corner, casting a pale blue light in the closet. Guy-Man knew he was probably one of the few people who could even see this strange glow. He bent down slightly and looked into the tiny ball.
“Thomas...You don’t have to start avoiding me.” He whispered. “You spent so long trying to find a friend. I don’t think you want to lose that.”
There was no response.
Guy-Man reached forward and cupped his hands under the blue flame and lifted it off the ground. It floated a few centimeters above his hands, and gave him a slight chill despite it’s appearance. It quivered slightly, like it was nervous. Guy-Man knew if Thomas was in his normal form he’d be shifting uncomfortably and avoiding eye contact.
“Thomas. I need your help…I can’t make this album without you. You know that. You’re my best friend, my partner. My music...It just sounds better when you’re around. It’s not really my music, is it?” Guy-Man chuckled softly. “It’s more like our music, right? You and me.”
The flame in his hand was slowly starting to spread, and it began to form the shape of the sixteen year old boy who he had become best friends with. Guy-Man grinned widely, unaware of the tears in his eyes.
Thomas gave a weak grin back, his hand still in Guy-Man’s.
“G-Guy-Man?” He whispered.
“Yeah?”
“A truck.”
Guy-Man raised an eyebrow.
“I was hit by a truck. A long time ago. the 15th of November, 1954. It was really cold that night, but I was running away from home…” Thomas spoke quietly, yet his voice never faltered as he whispered his story to Guy-Man.
His hand never left Guy-Man’s and even though neither of them could even really feel their hands touching each other’s, it was still a comfort. Guy-Man listened attentively to Thomas as he spoke. He spoke about everything, not just his death. Of his mother and father, and the ghosts he had met in the 90s. How depressed he was, and how he was falling in love with Elodie.
“But it’s pointless, isn’t it? Even if I’m in love with Elodie, nothing can happen from it. I’m dead, and she’s still alive. She deserves a nice, happy, living husband. But…” Thomas sighed. “Either way I’m stuck here until I find out why I have to do to leave.”
Guy-Man looked at Thomas. “But, do you want to leave?”
Thomas smiled. “I don’t really know, to be honest. Whenever I’m hanging out with you I’ve found that I never really think about it. So maybe I don’t really mind being here as much as I used to. I’m still gonna always be sad, that’s a given. But I think I can tolerate it.” He laughed. “I’ve tolerated it this long.”
“And Elodie?”
Thomas’s smile faltered. “She can still come over, obviously. She’s helping us make your album. But it’ll still hurt. I know it’ll still hurt.”
“You’ll make it through, dude.” Guy-Man lifted his hand so it went through Thomas’s. “And by the way, it’s our album. Not my album.”
Thomas beamed.