Chapter Text
Schlatt’s house was second closest to Pete’s, just two roads away, and so all five of them hauled up in his living room as the night drew in and the rain finally decided to make it worth their while - coming down in sheets across their town and wailing on Schlatt’s roof like someone that desperately wanted to come inside. Inside, however, Schlatt helped gather the sofa cushions and blankets to take back up to his room, where the other four were waiting for him.
Although it was warm in his house, the mixture of the weather outside and the cold sweat dripping down his back did everything it could to make him feel unwelcome in his own home. He had to admit that having the others talking in audible whispers upstairs helped settle him, because as usual his mother was away on a business trip, so he had the house to himself.
If the others didn't want to stay, he’d have some problems trying to stay calm while home alone.
Hurrying back to his room, he nudged the door open with his foot and slid through the threshold, immediately dumping all of his gathered linen onto Ted, who sat in his armchair, now buried.
“Dude,” he said, reaching for his glasses, “I know you offered a blanket, but I didn't think you meant the rest of the house!”
Schlatt shrugged and jumped on the bed, also accidently jumping on Techno, who squawked. He waved his arm vaguely, “Pass them around, dude. I’m sure everyone wants one.”
Carson, without being passed one, just snatched one as soon as Schlatt finished.
There was a moment of silence.
“So,” Connor began, “Techno. Your house is haunted.”
“That isn't my house.”
“Okay, your dad’s house is haunted.”
Techno sighed. “There’s gotta be a better explanation. We were seeing things, it was a reflection, not… not a ghost or whatever.”
“Demon,” Carson piped in.
“Dee-mon,” Ted mimicked.
“Stop making Buzzfeed references here, dude, we’re being serious.”
“Okay, well,” Ted leaned up in his fortress of blankets, taking the time to look at them all, “Whatever it is, what are we going to do about it? Are we gonna go in again? Are we going to be Ghostbusters and go in there guns blazing? We don't haveto do anything about it. Techno, didn't you say your dad was going to demolish it anyway?”
“He was planning to,” he admitted, “But he also mentioned renovation. He said the foundations are still good.”
“Not with a flooded basement, they're not,” Connor said, looking bitter.
He leant against the wall below Schlatt’s window, keeping his legs tucked to his chest and his eyes on the floor. Out of all of them, Connor was probably the one who least looked forward to going home that night or the next morning, since his house was just opposite Mr Pete’s old place. Schlatt could sympathize a little, since he could see the tip of the roof from his back garden, even if it was only a little, he still felt the eerie, not quite right feeling that came from the house’s very presence. He couldn't imagine seeing it every day on his way to school, especially now that he knew something was wrong with it, whatever that something may be.
“Maybe we should talk to Pete,” Carson suggested, “Wilbur’s mom knows him. He goes to her spin class on Wednesdays.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know because Wilbur always complains about Pete giving his mom liquorice to give to him.”
“Liquorice is great though,” Techno mumbled, still being used as a mattress by Schlatt.
“One out of six agrees liquorice is great. Sorry, Techno, you’ve been out voted.”
“So, wait, I’m confused,” said Connor, “What will talking to Pete do?”
“He’ll be able tell us if shit was going down when he still lived there.”
There was a series of murmurs.
“So,” Ted said, looking like he was chewing over his words, “Wilbur?”
Carson nodded.
“How the fuck do we talk to Wilbur?”
Techno rested his hand against the locker, trapping Wilbur between him and the sheet of metal, and he looked down on the shorter teen like he was ready to eat him alive. It would have been quite threatening if Schlatt hadn't been watching him over Techno’s shoulder with an almost child-like curiosity. Wilbur, however, wasn't exactly confident with dealing with Schlatt either.
“T-Techno,” He sputtered, “What-”
“Listen,” he began, “We both know that you haven't done anything here, but there is something that I,” he looked over his shoulder at Schlatt, “Weneed from you.”
Wilbur held onto the strap of his guitar like a lifeline, trying to look around Schlatt and Techno for either a way out or help, but neither came. “What do you, uh, need?”
“What we need, Wilbur,” Schlatt faked his confidence again, coming a little closer to the trapped individual in question, “Is contact with Mr Pete.”
All of Wilbur’s fear evaporated.
“What? Why?”
Techno began his well-rehearsed speech.
“My dad owns Mr Pete’s old house - the spooky one in the cul de sac - and the other day when Schlatt, Connor and I were digging around in there we found an old box in the basement. We couldn't get it open, and we figured we’d ask Pete if there was any point to opening it.”
“We’re all the same here,” Schlatt said, snaking over to Wilbur’s other side, effectively trapping him in further, “We just want you to put a word in, is all. Ask him if he can speak to us.”
Wilbur still looked confused.
“Okay?”
“Tell him it was Connor asking, too. He couldn't make it -”
“-He has an after-hours art class, you see -”
“-And he wanted to be here, since he lives so close.”
Still holding onto his guitar, Wilbur stood bewildered between them.
“Can you do that for us, Wilbur?”
“Sure?”
“Great.” Techno finally removed his hand from the locker, giving Wilbur some room to actually breathe.
“So, what do I tell him? I mean, how do I word it?” Wilbur fiddled with the strap to his guitar case.
“Just tell him that Connor wants to catch up. You know Connor, right?”
“Not real-”
“That’s not the point,” Schlatt interrupted, “The point is that Mr Pete knows Connor. And you know Mr Pete.”
Wilbur nodded, and Techno and Schlatt took a step back.
“Get Pete to text Connor when you’ve asked,” Schlatt continued, “and we’ll get you something for your time tomorrow.”
Wilbur gulped, nodded, and left at a speed just short of a run.
“Connor! It’s great to see you and your friends. Come in, come in. Wilbur mentioned you wanted to talk.”
Mr Pete ushered Connor, Carson and Ted into his cosy living room, taking the time to shut the door behind them and take their coats. Connor didn't look too bothered about it, but Ted and Carson reluctantly let themselves be attended to with a grace obviously gained from visiting their grandparents, but unfortunately that grace wasn't enough to stop their obvious discomfort.
“Sit down, I’ve got tea, if you are all interested.”
“Thanks Mr Pete,” Connor said for all of them, “and thanks for letting me know that you could meet up.”
“You are very welcome, Connor, and you too, Ted and Carson. Now,” he rested the tray of lemon and green tea on the coffee table, knocking the little pot of liquorice to one side, “I have to ask, what brings you three young gentlemen here to visit me today?”
“It’s, uh,” Ted began, “it’s a bit hard to explain.”
“Oh?”
Carson leaned forward in his seat, looking at Pete over the tea, “Techno let us into your old house the other day, just to check it out.”
“Schlatt and I thought we saw someone in there on Saturday.”
“And we swear we saw someone in there when we all went, but not like a real person.”
Pete considered this. “A phantom, you mean?”
“Yeah, we guess.”
Leaning back in his chair, Pete lifted his mug of tea to his lips and drank, looking between the three teens. The clock ticked on the wall, and the wind outside his window rustled the leaves of the bushes outside, but for a moment none of them made any noise before Pete continued his train of thought.
“Well, that house is very old now. A few generations must have lived there before I happened upon it, but while I was living there, I never saw anything; keyword being saw. There a few signs of it just being an old house: creaking floorboards when no one was walking over them, cold spots, doors moving with the slightest breeze, but nothing serious. No appearances or whispers, but I suppose those other signs could also be associated with paranormal activity.”
“I’m surprised you're taking us seriously,” Connor admitted, “I thought you would laugh at us.”
“I like to think of myself as an open minded individual, Connor, and truth be told, I wouldn't be surprised if the dead could still think of the living. I also wouldn't be surprised, if there was a ghost in that house, that the decay of it would make them appear more often - you don't get ghosts in fancy old houses, after all.”
“That’s very true.”
“Anyway! Connor, tell me about your mother! Is she doing ok? She mentioned that you were thinking about going to college. When I was your age, I-”
Connor spared a glance at Carson and Ted, who looked between Mr Pete and Connor with a mixture of glee and horror. Pete didn't stop, unconcerned with the
‘Will he...?’ Ted made the mouth movements but not the sounds.
Connor nodded.
‘How long?’ Carson mouthed.
He held up three fingers.
‘Hours?’
Connor nodded again.
‘Fuck.’