Work Text:
They came back to get Nathan eventually.
“How long d’ ya’ think it’ll take?” Kelly asked softly, voice stilted. Her expression was unreadable, brow furrowed and arms crossed over her chest, and for a moment, Simon wished he had her power, if only to know what was going through everyone else’s heads. “He’s too quiet, like.”
“It took about three days, the last time,” Simon said awkwardly. The others glanced towards him, frowning, and he shrugged helplessly, looking towards the ground to avoid their gazes. “You asked how long.”
“Let’s just get him off the damn pipe,” Alisha scoffed, seeming uncomfortable.
Curtis and Simon grabbed him underneath the arms, and it was almost too easy to lift him from the pipe, his baggy clothes disguising his thin frame. His body was limp, feet dragging on the ground because he was taller than Simon and hanging unevenly off their shoulders, and he tried not to let bile rise up in his throat. They’d handled corpses before. He wondered if they would ever become desensitized to it, and whether it would be a sign that murder was becoming too regular an occurrence in their lives.
“Simon,” Kelly sighed, leaning back against the bathroom wall, “can yah’ stop thinking about handling corpses n’ shit? It’s bloody Nathan, not another probation worker.”
“He can be Nathan and a corpse,” Alisha mused, then winced.
Curtis’ mouth twitched into a faint smile. “He’ll probably think this is funny when he wakes up.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “At least we won’ have ta’ take him from the building. He lives in the fookin’ community centah’, like.”
They dragged Nathan to his makeshift sleeping quarters, up a flight of stairs and through a door that Kelly had to pick the lock on. Alisha kept look out, walking ahead of them and then keeping watch as they broke into the area that Nathan used, and Kelly kept a distance away from them. Together, they managed to escape the notice of anyone who might’ve still been in the building.
While it might’ve looked strange on the security cameras the owners of the building installed after two probation workers went missing, Shaun likely wouldn’t bother checking them anytime soon. It was nice, having a probation worker that just didn’t care for once. And besides, if Nathan came back, then there wouldn’t be any corpse for them to explain to him. But he doubted that Shaun would care enough to even bother, so long as it didn’t become a legal issue he had to deal with.
They settled him into his bed after Alisha laid a towel down, figuring that he wouldn’t want bloodstains on the mattress he’d acquired. He looked almost peaceful, staring unseeingly towards the ceiling, although the stillness didn’t suit him. Nathan was always moving, made of flailing limbs and endless motion, and death made him uncannily still.
Simon hoped that it wouldn’t become any easier.
“Should we say a few words?” Alisha asked.
Kelly’s lips twitched upwards. “He’s a righ’ prick, but he’s our prick.”
“He‘s a selfish asshole,” Alisha agreed, “but he cares. I think.”
“Good thing we can’t seem to get rid of him,” Curtis quipped.
Simon knew he should say something, if only because the others were looking at them. It was awkward enough already, standing around the body of their friend together in the community center. “If he was alive to hear us, he’d be mocking us for being all sentimental.“
“You have that right,” Alisha muttered.
“Nathan,” Curtis sighed theatrically, “may he rest in peace.”
Alisha bit back a grin. “And not shit himself.”
Kelly snorted, although her eyes softened. Kneeling down next to him, she brushed the dark curls away from his unseeing green eyes. “He’ll be alright,” she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. Simon knew that she was the closest to him, that she took his death hard, the first time. “He’s a stubborn git like tha’. Would never wan’ ta’ miss out on anything.”
“One of us should stay with him,” Curtis proposed, leaning against the railing of the mezzanine. Looking at Nathan thoughtfully, he frowned. “To make sure nobody finds him like this.”
“I’d be fine staying,” Simon volunteered, the words coming out of him before he’d even thought it through properly. The others turned towards him, and he fought the impulse to turn invisible. He’d spent so long avoiding other people that he wasn’t used to being looked at, as much as he’d always desired the attention. “Just, at least until he wakes up.”
“You sure ya’ don’ want me lookin’ after him?” Kelly asked, raising an eyebrow.
She was giving him an out, and he was almost tempted to take it. But he’d failed to save Nathan when he fell from the roof, and he wasn’t there to stop him from being impaled. Even if Nathan was an asshole sometimes, Simon felt, if not responsible, then at least complicit in his death. Both of them. He deserved some sort of apology, and he knew right after he woke up would be the best time to do it, before Nathan could bother him into not wanting to give one.
“I’m alright,” Simon assured her, trying to smile. He was certain it came out looking more like a grimace. “I’ll watch him. Besides, I can turn invisible, if someone comes looking.”
“True enough,” Kelly scoffed. Reaching out, she patted him on the arm. “If he’s an asshole to ya’, jus’ call me.”
“I will,” Simon promised.
“Ta, Simon,” Alisha said, nudging him gently with her clothed elbow as she headed for the exit. She spared a final glance at Nathan, gaze soft, then turned to leave. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, I guess.”
“Don’t stick around too late, yeah?” Curtis said, following after her.
Kelly lingered, looking down at Nathan even when the door swung shut and it was just the two of them. She watched him pensively, and Simon watched her, feeling almost like he was intruding on a private moment. She’d been the closest to him, although Simon didn’t know how she could be when Nathan wouldn’t let any of them get close to him. He could still remember how she’d cried when he’d been impaled, how she’d lingered after the funeral service.
“He’ll be fine,” Simon promised awkwardly. “Do you want to stay?”
“No,” Kelly said. A lie, Simon thought. “I should get back home.”
She didn’t move to leave.
They stood together, watching Nathan, and Simon wondered if being dead was considered sleeping if the person would eventually wake up again. Nathan would almost look peaceful, if his stillness wasn’t so unnerving.
“I never thanked you for the tape ya’ made,” Kelly said eventually.
“You’re welcome,” Simon said, the words coming out stilted.
With a fleeting smile, she reached over and hugged him, resting her chin against his shoulder. After a moment of keeping his hands hovering above her, he rested them on her back, holding her loosely. It’d been awhile since he’d been given a proper hug. “Thank you, Simon. For caring about us pricks.”
“Of course,” he stuttered. “You’re my friends.”
“An’ you’re our friend, Simon,” Kelly assured him, stepping back. She adjusted the collar of his orange suit, then smoothed it down, dropping her hands. “We care about you. If ya’ need sum’n, jus’ promise you’ll tell us.”
Simon nodded, too choked up to reply properly.
Backing up against the door to the mezzanine, Kelly pushed it open, waving in farewell. “Ya’ take good care of him for us, yah? He’s the only Nathan we’ve got, can’t afford ta’ go an’ lose him. An’ text me when he wakes up.”
“I will,” he promised.
Then Kelly left, and he was alone with a corpse.
Part of him wished she’d kept hugging him, even if the thought was embarrassing. He was eighteen, for Christ’s sake, even if he didn’t quite feel like a legal adult, yet. But besides Lizzie, back home, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him so sincerely.
With a shaky sigh, he kneeled down next to Nathan’s mattress, brushing chip crumbs and a candy bar wrapper off the edge of the mezzanine before sitting down with his back against the railing. The center wouldn’t be closed for another few hours, and there was the danger of someone seeing him sitting up there, but their service hours were over, and it wasn’t like he was prohibited for sitting there.
Nathan’s eyes were still open, he noticed absently. He’d thought that they were green, but he could see the flecks of hazel in them, now that they were sitting so close together. Gently, he reached over and closed them, fingertips tingling as they touched the soft skin of his eyelids.
He’d said that they could be friends. They’d be friends, he hoped, almost in spite of himself. Nathan was an asshole, but he was almost magnetic, in the sense that people tended to gravitate towards him even when he seemed to do everything in his power to drive them away. He’d mocked Kelly’s bad attitude and scraped-back hair, Curtis getting banned from participating in sports, and Alisha’s rampant promiscuity, but none of them seemed to resent him for it.
Simon was finding it hard to resent him, either, even when the constant pedophile and pervert jokes grated on his already frayed nerves. It was just Nathan being himself, crass and careless, infuriatingly blatant in his rejection of societal etiquette, and despite the annoyance and resentment he’d felt towards him at the beginning of their relationship, Nathan amused him more than he irritated him, most days. He supposed it could be counted as progress.
It was some time later that Nathan’s eyes fluttered open again.
He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at his bloodied community service uniform with a puzzled frown, then glanced towards Simon, seeming equally confused. The sincerity in his expression was unexpected, the surprise in his eyes, but it didn’t last long enough for Simon to be concerned.
“Barry,” Nathan gasped, crossing his arms over his chest and holding himself tightly. “Did you jerk off to my corpse?”
Simon’s cheeks warmed. “No, I wouldn’t—”
“Figures the pervert would be a necrophile,” Nathan grumbled.
“I didn’t do anything perverted,” Simon insisted.
Nathan squinted at him, leaning forwards. His eyes flitted downwards, just for a moment, before he groaned theatrically, collapsing back onto his mattress and pressing his the heels of his palms against his forehead. Simon wondered if coming back from the dead could give him something like a hangover. “I feel defiled. Like someone ran a pipe through my insides.”
Simon frowned. “That’s exactly what happened.”
“No need to remind me,” Nathan huffed. Flinging his arms out, he closed his eyes again. “I’m exhausted, Barry.“
“At least you didn’t shit yourself this time,” Simon pointed out, feeling bold.
Nathan looked down, brow furrowing in confusion, before his eyebrows shot into his hairline with surprise. “I didn’t,” he exclaimed incredulously. Laughing, he grinned at Simon, eyes twinkling. “Guess I’m getting better at this whole immortality gig, shoddy as it is.”
“Less shoddy than dying permanently,” he reminded him.
“True enough,” Nathan sighed.
Simon pulled out his phone from his pocket, flipping open the cover. He’s alive again, he texted to Kelly, thumbs shaking as he pressed on the buttons. Almost as soon as he’d sent it, he received back a thanks, followed quickly by a tell him he’s an idiot for getting himself killed again. He sent back sure, then tacked on a hasty take care of yourself.
“Kelly says you’re an idiot,” he repeated.
Nathan rolled his eyes, glaring at his phone as he tucked it back into his pocket. “Bet she cried over me.”
Maybe Nathan was just unlucky. His power was certainly convenient, considering how he’d died twice before he’d even reached twenty-one, both deaths in the span of a week. But between killing their probation worker, hiding several different corpses, and fighting other super powered young adults, all of them were having a pretty awful few months. Nathan’s cavalier attitude just put him in more danger than the rest of them.
Shifting on the mattress so he was sitting up, Nathan hugged his knees close to his chest, peering over the edge of the mezzanine with an expression that almost looked contemplative. Simon wondered whether it was a good thing that he’d started recognizing Nathan’s various moods. If that was a thing that friends did, or if he was being a creep again.
It would be the best time to apologize, Simon reminded himself, while Nathan seemed to be more in a listening mood than a talking, deflecting mood. Before he could shut himself off with crude jokes and crassness like he always did.
“I’m sorry we let it happen,” Simon apologized. Nathan turned around sharply, wrinkling his nose and pouting, and he quickly hurried to elaborate. “You, dying. On the roof, and in the locker room.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “You know I don’t blame you for that, right?“
He didn’t know. After they’d gotten Nathan out of his coffin, after they’d dug up his grave, he’d berated him for not getting to him in time to stop him from falling. He thought he resented him for it. “But I tried to save you,” Simon stressed, “on the rooftop. I had your hand—”
“And it’s fine, Barry,” Nathan groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he tilted his head back, banging it against the metal railing behind them. “Can we please just let it go? I’m over it, already. Moved on.”
“You died, Nathan. Normal people don’t just come back from... that.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re all a bunch of freaks,” Nathan scoffed. He seemed resigned, rather than bothered by the statement. “If you’re trying to get me to open up about my feelings, which are nonexistent, mind you, I’m not falling for your mind games, Barry.”
“I just wanted to apologize,” Simon mumbled.
Nathan fixed him with a glare, and Simon wished he had Kelly’s mind-reading powers, if only so he could know what he was thinking. As much as he wore his heart on his sleeve, Nathan was inscrutable, then, looking at Simon.
“Unnecessary,” Nathan said flippantly, after a moment of contemplation. He was quiet as he grabbed the backpack sitting by his bed, unzipping it rather aggressively, and when he removed a joint and a lighter, he’d lit it before Simon could find the words to protest. Taking a long drag, the stench of weed filling the air as it started to burn, he exhaled, and smoke drifted through his lips.
“Will that set off the smoke alarms?” Simon asked nervously.
“I’ve done it before,” Nathan said around the joint, “and I haven’t gotten caught yet. You don’t need to be so fuckin’ anxious all the time.”
“I can’t help it,” Simon protested.
Nathan glanced at him, then extended his hand with the joint, shaking it in front of his face. When Simon shied away, he just leaned forwards with it, a mischievous smile stretching across his face. “C’mon, it’ll help you relax,” he encouraged. “You have to learn how to live a little, Barry!“
Simon eyed the joint. “I shouldn’t—”
“You shouldn’t? Or you don’t want to?” Nathan asked smugly, pulling it back to breathe in another lungful of smoke. He stretched out his leg to nudge Simon’s knee with his foot. “Because there’s a pretty big difference. We’re young, a little reckless hedonism is expected of us.”
Simon was abruptly thrown back to Nathan’s speech, the one he gave on the rooftop back when they were being controlled by the Virtue Virgins, before he was pulled down with Rachel when he shoved her off. Him, standing at the edge of the building, dressed in a suit. Save me, Barry, shouted as he fell.
He knew he shouldn’t, that his mum would probably smell it on him, if she ever made it home that night. But he was eighteen, and it’d been four years since he’d had a proper friend, and Nathan was looking at him like he was actually enjoying spending their time together. And besides, he’d done plenty worse things than trying weed. He’d murdered his probation worker, for fuck’s sake.
Carefully, he took the joint between his fingers, trying not to smile when Nathan’s grin broadened. He’d tried a cigarette, once, on a dare when he was thirteen from one of Matt’s friends who he was acquainted with by association, and he figured it couldn’t be much different.
When he took a drag from it, he inhaled as long as he could, and coughed violently when his lungs ran out of room and he choked on the smoke. Passing it back to Nathan, who was uncharacteristically quiet as he watched him, it took a moment to kick in. It wasn’t that noticeable a change, a brightening of the world around him, a loosening in the set of his jaw, but he could feel it.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Nathan asked, impish.
“No,” Simon admitted. He’d expected it to feel strange, higher than he was, but instead, it was just a pleasant buzz. Like alcohol after the first drink, rather than shooting up heroin. He waited for the guilt to settle over him, but it didn’t.
“The second you remember society doesn’t care about freaks like us,” Nathan declared, tapping the ashes from the end of the blunt, “is the second you can stop caring about society. Fuck the whole lot of them.”
Humming, Simon looked down at the ground below them, off the edge of the mezzanine. He’d been drunk, but he could still remember the hatred he’d felt that day at the club, the embarrassment and anger, and how he’d felt like he’d broken open and couldn’t stop it from spilling out. Then there was the psych ward, his sentencing, his parents’ disgust.
When Nathan offered the blunt again, he accepted it.
They smoked it together until the community center was certainly closed, and even if Nathan couldn’t go a full minute without insulting Simon in one way or another, it felt companionable. Simon found himself actually talking, like the words were coming out too easy.
“I just wanted a friend,” he admitted, then laughed at how badly he’d wanted Matt to just talk to him again, to have things go back to how they were. But if he hadn’t ignored him, and he hadn’t lashed out at him in return, he’d never have met the rest of them in community service. He would’ve just kept being lonely. “Community service is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
“That’s just sad,” Nathan blurted, rubbing at his reddened eyes. The blunt had burnt out ages ago.
“I hope we’ll stay together,” he continued, “after it’s over.”
Shrugging, Nathan looked away from him, fingers worrying the sleeves of the bloodied orange jumpsuit he still hadn’t changed out of. It’d stain, Simon realized belatedly, although it wasn’t like Nathan’s jumpsuit wasn’t already ruined. “Nobody’s ever really wanted to stick around me for long. Not even my own mum. I died, and she didn’t even come to my funeral.”
“I’m sure she loves you,” Simon bleated, “you just—”
“I’m hard to like,” Nathan finished.
“—you push everyone away.”
“They’d all leave regardless.” A thin smile on his face, Nathan laughed ruefully, glancing over at him like he was gauging his reaction. “I just expedite the process. Rejection can’t hurt if you hurt them first.”
Simon knew the feeling. He’d felt invisible his entire life, too afraid to reach out but never interesting enough for others to try and get to know. He and Nathan were two different sides of the same coin, of loneliness come to a head. And afterwards, Simon wouldn’t be sure if it was the weed, or the way that Nathan sniffled, eyes turning wet, but—
“I won’t leave,” Simon promised.
Nathan scoffed. “Sure, Barry.”
“I won’t,” he repeated, “I mean it. And the others won’t, either.”
A smile, a genuine one, small and meaningful, flitted onto Nathan’s face. Then his grin turned shit-eating as he turned around, eyes shining in delight. “Barry, that sounded so gay.”