Chapter Text
The drive was long.
Which wasn’t entirely unexpected. He’d planned for at least six hours at the wheel, but several traffic jams, an extra too-long McDonald’s break and an hours-long search for a bathroom had managed to stretch the trip into eight, and then nine. It was nearing ten-hours before he switched his indicator to signal turning off the highway towards the exit labelled ‘King Falls.’
He’d never heard of the place until three days ago. To be fair, he hadn’t heard of many places. Had no interest in other places, not the ones here. Not anywhere. The familiarity of his home had been the only adventure he needed, and the ‘maybe some-day’s had quietly transitioned into ‘I’d rather not’s. Until his home had turned into something twisted, tired. His home had become something bitter and broken, somewhere he no longer felt like he needed to be.
So he’d pulled out a map, and pressed his finger to it, before pulling up the house listings for the area it had landed on.
He hadn’t said anything before leaving - hadn’t needed to. He’d quit his job and left without a word. Nobody would mind, he was sure. His few friendships had fizzled out with the end of his relationship with a man who cared for little more than appearances, a fact which dug at Sammy’s insides, until he couldn’t stand any reminder of what had been. Familiarity turned into something sour in his mouth, and so here he was.
As it were, the sun was just beginning to rise over the sleepy mountain town as Sammy caught his first glimpse of the place. The colours somehow seemed more vivid, brighter - but perhaps that was mostly to do with the pang of anticipation and longing that clung to Sammy’s chest, tinting every breath he took as he gazed through his window. He had a few hours before he was expected at the house, and thought momentarily of the breakfast he had mentally scheduled, but instead felt drawn towards a road marked with a small sign that indicated a lake.
It was eerily quiet as Sammy pulled up twenty short minutes later, letting his car rumble to a halt just before the waters edge. The sun was high in the sky by this point, and as Sammy slipped out of his car and padded towards the crystal clear water, he paused to breathe in the crisp, fresh air, so different to the heavy pollution he was used to. There was a boat far out on the lake, and Sammy could hear the hum of it’s engine, the chirping of some far off birds, and the echoing yell of a man and his dog in the distance.
As if in a trance, he flopped down to the ground, took off his shoes and socks, and scooted closer. He sighed as they plunged into the icy depths below - it’d been a long, stressful few months. Things couldn’t possibly get worse than they had been.
He splashed his feet absentmindedly whilst humming quietly to himself and gazed blankly into the horizon. The minutes sped quickly into an hour, until finally, his empty stomach won over his desire for serenity, and he made to return to his car.
Except, as he removed his now-wrinkled feet from the water, the ripples reflected the glistening light in a strange way that seemed to reveal the smooth, shimmery green head of something that was decidedly not a fish. Sammy startled momentarily, but as he shook his head to clear his vision, the uneasy feeling returned to his stomach, and he suddenly wasn’t quite so hungry anymore.
He peered a little anxiously back into the lake, but of course there was nothing there. He hurried to his car, and drove away, breakfast all but forgotten.
From then, it took Sammy a little longer to find the small townhouse than he had anticipated. This area of town seemed heavily populated by dozens of buildings that looked identical, and lacked the courtesy of numbers. The navigation app on his phone was being entirely uncooperative, and he’d almost just given up and called the listed number before he finally found the place.
The most remarkable thing about the house, Sammy thought, was the garden. The pale, weathered building was covered with a tangled mess of vines, that seemed to have been hacked at some time ago, but has obviously resisted destruction and continued to flourish regardless. There was a low, long bush dotted with white and sickly-purple roses, and a tiny thriving tree that looked like a recent acquisition. The grass was neatly trimmed, but covered in a haphazard layer of leaves that had probably blown over from somewhere else. This was all seemingly standard for the area, but what made it click in Sammy’s mind was the pudgy, red-hatted gnome with a smug expression and a wicked gleam in it’s eyes that sat in prime-position on the porch. The man on the phone had described this exact object to Sammy, but it was somehow even uglier than the image his mind had conjured up. He kicked himself internally for forgetting the detail and wasting time, but he reasoned that at least it was now a more reasonable hour to be banging on the front door of what was essentially a perfect stranger.
The air was heavy as he slammed shut the door of his shiny Prius, and jogged softly towards the front door. He vaguely registered a small girl - maybe 10 or 11 - sitting on the fence of the house next door, banging her feet loudly against the aged bricks, and loudly snapping gum as she observed him with critical eyes, but he paid her little attention.
He rang the doorbell, and internally cringed at the overly cheery notes that rang through the air. He heard some muffled banging, and a small shout, before the door was flung open with a small bang , and he was suddenly thrown to the floor.
“HiyoumustbeSammyohit’ssonicetomeetyouI-”
Sammy’s flight or fight response had kicked in, as he shrieked and threw the flailing lump off of him, and subsequently pinning to the ground what appeared to be a very small man.
The man wriggled and wailed under him as Sammy backed off slowly, relaxing slightly. “You. Uh. You must be Ben?”
The man - Ben - beamed at him, nodding his head a hundred miles an hour, and speaking incomprehensibly, until Sammy grabbed at his arm and told him to breathe and slow down.
Ben paused for a moment, took a large, exaggerated gulp of air, and began again. “I wasn’t expecting you here so early. You've come from pretty far, right?"
“Yeah, uh. Quiet roads.” Ben nodded, gesturing for Sammy to follow him inside, and slipped the door shut behind him. Sammy stepped through the hallway, into a small kitchen area with stacks of books and cassettes littering every surface. The room itself looked clean enough, and strangely spacious considering the clutter and general size. Ben was babbling something apologetically - about pancakes - as he offered Sammy a cup of coffee ('or juice, or tea, or water, or even soda if you want?') whilst clearing a space for him to sit. Sammy politely accepted the offer of coffee, and Ben proceeded to speak rapidly about the house as he prepared it.
“It’s a good area,” he was saying, “A lot of jobs around, I don’t know if you’re looking for work - I’m just out of a job myself, it’s why I needed a house mate, to cover the bills - but I can do rent pretty cheap either, and I’ve got all the basic furniture, and we’re right next to the local diner which is great for-”
Sammy smiled at Ben, as he handed him the cup of hot, strong coffee, taking a sip as Ben barrelled through the virtual tour. “You’ll get your own bathroom, and your pick of the bedrooms - I’m happy to swap if you’d be more comfortable in the bigger one, but as long as you don’t start knocking holes in the wall, you should be good to move in whenever. We'll have to share living space if that's okay, but I can stay out of your way if you'd rather be alone.” He looked expectantly up at Sammy, who’s resolve wavered slightly. He was used to more push back, less eagerness, but Ben seemed nice. A little over excited for essentially first-thing in the morning (the coffee surely didn’t help) but nice. Sammy could do nice.
“Is now fine - to move in?” The look of delight on Ben’s face was all the answer Sammy needed.
Ben helped him haul his half-a-dozen bags full of belongings into the house and up the stairs, and within the hour, Sammy was sitting on his brand new bed. Ben’s mother - he just called her “Betty” - had purchased it for his guest room, but Ben had never had anybody even stay over before, which he informed Sammy of with a tinge of something bitter to his voice, but he’d cleaned the sheets and purchased new pillows, all of which he chattered about in excruciating detail.
“I was a little worried,” he said finally, as they deposited the last of Sammy’s clothes into his new wardrobe, “that you’d hear about the ghosts, and not want to move in.”
Sammy, his back to Ben, froze. Ben seemed to not realise, and continued on somewhat solemnly, “everybody thinks this house is haunted, and the agency said I needed to list that on the ad for transparency but -”
Sammy hadn’t read the ad that closely it seemed. He forced himself to let out a laugh, and reassured Ben that it was all fine, before hinting that he was feeling a little thirsty once again. Ben, seemingly always eager to please, rushed out of the room with a yell of “bee-arrr-bee” as Sammy collapsed onto the bed, and hung his head with a low grumble of disgust.
“Ghosts? Ugh.”
“We prefer apparitions.” Sammy shot up with a start, nearly knocking over the lamp on the side cabinet in his haste. He glanced around quickly, his eyes falling on a young man at the other side of the room. His hair was long and windswept (despite being indoors) and his tall, muscled figure was balanced precariously against one of the pale pink walls. He wore a pair of glasses, which though hanging crookedly, magnified the brilliant brightness of the eyes behind them.
“Ben - Ben didn’t say that he had another ro -”
The man frowned. The man frowned, his bushy eyebrows furrowing and Sammy was hit with that same unsettling horror that he’d felt this morning at the lake. There was a shimmery sheen to the man’s pale skin, and it was at that exact moment that he realised what was happening.
It wasn’t a young man standing opposite him, it was a ghost.
A beautiful, beautiful ghost.
Sammy groaned.
His parents had chalked it up to an overactive imagination. Imaginary friends were common in young children, and Sammy being an only child was probably conjuring up these friends due to an aching, dizzying loneliness. When he started school and began regaling tales to his classmates of the various ghost-children that haunted the playground, his teachers recommended discipline. When Sammy continued to insist that what he was seeing was real, a professional was called.
Sammy took one look at the friendly, smiling face of the therapist and knew. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew that he had to lie. Had to pretend that he wasn’t seeing anything. She didn’t even have to open her mouth to clue him in. He watched the news. He knew about hospitals an medications and restraints.
So he lied. Convinced everybody it was all a joke. A prank. He wasn’t seeing anything (except he was.)
He got off lightly, in the end. His parents grounded him for a week, and nothing more. The kids at school begged him to tell them stories about the ghosts, but he lied to them too. Told them he didn't want to get in trouble.
He never spoke about them again, but that didn’t stop them from being everywhere. Didn’t stop them from realising he could see them and then whispering to him, calling him. Begging him for something, anything. But he never relented. Convinced himself they weren’t real. Couldn’t be real. There was something wrong with him, and it wasn’t ghosts. It couldn’t be ghosts.
Ghosts weren’t real.
Except apparently, they were.
The man was blinking at Sammy, seemingly confused. Sammy pointedly turned away, and picked up his phone, tapping onto his home screen and clicking open his facebook. 0 new notifications. No surprises there.
When he looked up again, the ghost was still there. His eyes were still fixed on Sammy, who quickly turned away again. “Not real,” he muttered angrily to himself, “it’s not real.”
Sammy didn’t need to look at the man to know that his face had lit up. The room hummed with the electricity of it. He eagerly stepped in front of Sammy, and peered into his face. “Boo?”
Sammy ignored him.
The ghost frowned again. Up close, he was somehow even more attractive, which just pushed Sammy’s level of annoyance up by around six. He thought about leaving to join Ben, but knew if he tried to leave now, he’d have to walk through the thing and that was usually an entirely unpleasant experience. The ghost seemed to be studying Sammy closely, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, a quizzical expression tainting his otherwise perfect features. It was making Sammy nervous, honestly. He muttered a quiet “stop that,” before cursing at himself under his breath for acknowledging the thing.
“You. You can see me?” it squeaked suddenly, it’s voice rather high pitched, causing to Sammy sigh loudly. Clearly it wasn’t giving up.
“Please leave me alone.”
The ghost was literally vibrating with excitement now, and Sammy was suddenly reminded of Ben. “I can’t believe it, you can!” He did a little twirl, and proceeded to bounce on the balls of his feet, flailing his arms around in excitement. “I’m a nice apparition! I swear! You don’t have to be scared of me! Oh, I’m so excited, I’m so glad Ben’s dating you. He needs a good boyfriend, I keep thinking. You’re just his type too, I think. You’re probably everybody’s type, honestly. I’ve been so bored lately, and nobody can ever even see me, except for Lily, and she’s been staying away because her mom thinks- oh! That reminds me, where are my manners, I’m Jack! Nice to meet you! Can we be friends, I hope we can be friends I just -”
Sammy just stared. The ghost babbled on for another thirty seconds, before Sammy decided it was worth the unpleasant sensation and he stood up to leave. “I’m not dating Ben,” was the only thing he said, before walking straight through the ghost and leaving the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
He tried to brush the thought of the ghost’s - Jack’s?- face falling as he imagined it staring at the closed door. Ben was nice. He needed nice. And damnit if he were going to let a ghost ruin nice for him.
The next few days flew by. Ben had taken it upon himself to show Sammy around the town, and introduce him to all his friends. This unnerved Sammy somewhat, but Ben was nice. His friends were also nice - with the exception of an abrasive man called Pete, who Ben didn’t even seem to like all that much - and so Sammy found himself relaxing.
They ate at the local diner (which was as good as Ben had bragged about), they visited the lake a few times (the local Bait Shop owner was something else) and visited the nursing home that Ben volunteered at two nights a week. Everybody loved Ben, for obvious reasons, and so by extension they loved his new housemate. Usually, this would’ve bothered Sammy, because they should’ve liked him for him - but well. What else did he have? It saved him from a lot of otherwise awkward conversations. Sammy had other things on his mind, anyway.
Like the fact that this town seemed to be populated by more ghosts than Sammy had ever seen in one place in his life. They sat on swing sets at the parks, and tables at cafes. They wandered through the supermarket aisles and stared longingly at the food they couldn’t eat, following around unsuspecting citizens with varying expressions of boredom and exasperation. They hung upside down from trees, and sat on top of cars, and stood forlornly at the side of the road. He tried to ignore them, but it was overwhelmingly difficult. At least none of them paid him any mind - were probably used to being unseen, unnoticed.
The one ghost Sammy didn’t see was Jack - the ghost from Ben’s house. He’d apparently vanished between the time Sammy had left him, and the time he returned later that evening. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, that this were the better option - but part of him couldn’t help the guilt that consumed him.
He’d tried to subtly bring it up to Ben without letting on that he could actually see them - asked about the ghosts, particularly the ones that were supposed to live in his house - but the conversation was far from pleasant.
“I really hope there are ghosts,” Ben had said with an air of sincerity (everything he did was so sincere and Sammy found it incredibly endearing) and Sammy had gnawed at his lip before continuing his awkward interrogation.
“How did the rumours start?”
Ben cocked his head thoughtfully, and shrugged, “the weirdo who founded King Falls accused the natives of casting a curse on his children and making them able to see ghosts or turning them into ghosts or something like that, but I’m pretty sure he was just a murder-y whack job trying to get out of going to prison.”
“Huh.” Sammy was quiet for a moment, before adding “so how does that relate to your house.”
Ben’s mouth twisted into a frown, before he sighed. “You’re really sure you aren’t going to leave? It’s just, I’ve gotten really used to having you around, and I can’t really find a new housemate before-”
“It’s fine,” Sammy reassured him. “I like being around.”
Ben smiled a little sadly, before informing him of the grisly murder that had happened six years earlier, in the very bedroom Sammy was now staying in.
“Do they, uh. Do they know what happened?”
Ben laughed, a little hollowly. “Hate crime.”
“Oh.”
Ben drummed his fingers on the bench before adding, “his name was Jack. He was twenty six.”
Sammy’s face grew pale.
There was a girl in their kitchen.
Sammy vaguely recognised her, but he couldn’t say how or from where. She was perched upon Ben’s favourite red stool, sipping at a glass of Sammy’s expensive organic orange juice, and surveying him with narrow eyes. Eyes that were wide and dull, and lips that curled as she placed her half-drained cup back on the bench with a dull thunk. She didn’t look pleased to see him.
Ben shuffled over to help Sammy with their groceries, and introduced the girl with a grin. “Sammy, meet Lily. She’s Mrs. Wright’s daughter? From next door? Lily - I’ve told you about Sammy.”
“Pleasure,” said Lily in a way that made Sammy certain she didn't view it as such. He waved halfheartedly anyway, before swinging open the fridge with a groan.
“Ben, what happened to the cake.”
“We were hungry,” Ben protested, and Sammy could only sigh. "We only ate a little," he added but that hardly mattered.
“You can explain that to your mother later," Sammy muttered as he began stacking the groceries on the empty shelves.
“Betty won’t mind,” Ben said in a sing-song voice, “she knows I’m a growing boy.”
“And I’m a growing women,” added Lily, once again taking a sip of her juice, and Ben grinned at her, whilst Sammy muttered under his breath.
“How old are you anyway?”
“It’s not polite to ask,” Lily said at the same time as Ben answered “she’s 12.”
She glowered at him, and Sammy laughed. “You have a big mouth, buddy.”
“What can I say,” Ben said with a sigh, “I’ve gotta be more than my good looks.”
“You’re good for one thing and that’s -”
“Helping you with your homework?”
Lily sighed, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder as she did so. “Message received.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Homework, eh?” said Sammy, grabbing his own glass of juice, and joining the two of them, “what’s the project?”
Lily studied him critically for a moment, before seemingly making a choice. “We have to research town legends. Benny’s taking me to the book store, because his girlfriend works there, and my mom is busy.”
Ben spluttered in protest, as Sammy smirked. “Girlfriend, hey?”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” he insisted with a squawk, “and don’t call me Benny,” he added glaring at the girl.
“Sorry Benny,” she said sweetly, before poking out her tongue and jumping off the stool. “Bathroom -back in a sec.”
She left the room at a slight jog, and Sammy raised an eyebrow at Ben who grinned at him sheepishly. “She’s somethin’, huh?”
“Something is a word, yes.”
Ben grew suddenly serious, before leaning in to Sammy and whispering. “Be nice to her, okay? She doesn’t really have anybody, and the last few years have been tough on her because-”
“I’m ready! Hurry up!” came Lily’s yell from the front door, and Ben swore quietly before giving Sammy a look.
“Just, she’s just a kid, yeah? Be nice.”
“I can be nice,” insisted Sammy, before turning to grab his keys. “I’m driving, c’mon.”