Chapter Text
“Your new partner’s coming to work today, isn’t he?”
Lukas looks up from his clipboard and hums in confirmation. “He’s going to be here by the time you get back from school. I believe he’ll be staying until right before dinnertime, so you’ll have to get used to him hanging around for a while.”
Emil doesn’t appear fazed either way. As long as their business remains to themselves, he cannot care less if there will be an extra person in the house. At least this will take some of his brother’s attention off of him. He checks his bookbag to see if his supplies are in order and takes his keys from the rack.
“I’m leaving,” he announces to his brother.
“Mm, see you,” Lukas passively responds while sipping his mug of coffee.
The clouds overhead are considerably gray today. While the weather forecast predicted warmer temperatures this week, the air is still cold and the wind nippy. Despite having grown up in colder climates, Emil has to wear at least three layers to keep himself from shivering, but the weather is not the only thing causing a chill to run down his spine.
They are less visible during the daytime, he's figured out. Wandering aimlessly around as the lost souls they are, they linger and stare emptily into space, some straight ahead, others dazed, while the bold few will pester the living when they come close.
Passive ones are of less concern. It’s the ones that try to give Emil the spooks that annoy him the most. Around the age of ten, he realized it's best to ignore them. If he so much as hints at being able to see them, they will haunt him to no end. They will ask him questions he doesn’t know the answers to. They will beg him to help them cross over. Emil is not sure if there even is another side. That's not his job to figure out. That job belongs to his brother.
I can’t believe he found another nutjob who does that crap, he thinks as another one of them floats straight through the ground. He hates this place. He hates the decrepit atmosphere and the old-timey community. It’s quiet here. Too quiet. Yet all the same, the voices never cease. Emil can always hear them.
When he arrives at school, things go swimmingly, that is until the homeroom teacher announces the new student arriving today.
Oh great. A new nutjob and a new student. This is the most exciting day of my life.
As sarcastic as he's being, the rest of his classmates seem genuinely excited about the new arrival. Maybe the new student is from the city. Maybe the student is good at sports. Maybe the student will help their homeroom win the annual academics competition this year. Whoever this new student is, Emil is indifferent. Like every day, he wants school to end so he can hurry on home and hole himself up in his room. It is the one place he can find some solace in this infested town.
“Yo. Sorry I’m late.”
The classroom falls silent as a new voice introduces its owner. A girl—no, it’s a guy, Emil realizes—walks through the door, slides it shut with his foot, and flings a hand up in a curt gesture. His dark brown hair is cut in such a way that his bangs sweep to the left of his face; however messy it appears, there is no doubt that it is stylized. The rest of him consists of an odd t-shirt plastered with nonsensical words tucked behind a dark red blazer, which is covered with an expensive-looking overcoat. The icing on top of his wardrobe is an accented plaid red scarf with a pair of shining red headphones wrapped around his neck. Emil gets a classy yet somewhat hip vibe from this character and leaves his first impressions at that.
“I’m Leon,” the student says and adds, “or Jia Long or Kha Lung. Wang. Or Kirkland. Doesn’t matter. Just call me Leon. It’s the easiest one.”
Some classmates whisper to one another. Since he sits in the back corner, Emil can see some of the girls giggling. He rolls his eyes.
“Would you like to tell us something about yourself, Mr. Leon?” the teacher asks.
Mr. Leon flicks his head back which tosses some of his bangs away from his eyes. Emil steals another look and catches the unique coloration of his irises. They look like they’re made of molten gold.
“I just moved here from Hong Kong. Family issues an’ yadda yadda. Before you ask, yes, I can do kung fu. Yes, I love rice. And yeah, I get good grades.”
Do you now? Emil wonders, unimpressed.
The new guy finishes off with, “Nice to meet you. Thanks for having me and stuff.”
With his casual demeanor, it appears the new student will have no trouble fitting into the otherwise mundane school. Already he is getting interested looks from boys and girls, some looking eager for him to choose a seat next to them.
Of course, the only vacant seat happens to belong next to Emil. His previous desk mate had to take the rest of the year off after catching some exotic disease and was placed under strict government quarantine until further notice.*
“Leon, you can take the seat right next to Steilsson,” the teacher points to the back. “It’s the one over there.”
“M’kay.” Leon makes his way through the narrow rows and seats himself down, designer bookbag and all. He then looks to his new desk mate. “So you’re Steilsson?”
“Emil Steilsson, yeah,” he shortly replies and leaves it at that. He turns his attention towards the window as the teacher spends the next few minutes going over weekly announcements. During that time, he finds himself feeling irritably warm. It’s unusual. The classroom is normally cold to him despite the thermostat reading twenty-five degrees Celsius. Is it his clothes? Curious, he unbuttons his coat to release some heat. It does just that, to his surprise.
Weird.
“Am I too hot for you?”
Emil winces and turns to his right. Leon is staring at him with a devious smirk.
“Mind your own business,” Emil hisses and turns curtly away. Out of spite, he buttons his coat back up and endures the heat for the rest of the period until lunch break comes around. He's sweating like a bullet tumbler by the afternoon.
Leon’s new peers surround him the moment the bell rings. He gets bombarded with question after question as if he’s doing a mass-interview session for some famous celebrity event. To Emil’s distaste, he takes it all in rather well, answering each question with his own personal flare. There is something about the new kid’s confidence that annoys him. It’s not envy, is it?
Irritated, he unbuttons his coat completely and takes it off. The heat is getting to be too much for him. He wonders if he is coming down with a fever. He seemed fine this morning and on the way to school. A fleeting thought tells him that maybe it is Leon who’s too hot for him.
Too hot in what way? he wonders with a scowl. Cocky bastard, thinking he can get away with that stupid line…
Luckily for him, any eventful conversations thereafter end with the second half of school. The final bells rings, and Emil is quick to pack up and push his way through students. A wave of cold hits him at full blast the moment he leaves the building. He shivers and pulls up his scarf and collar, watching as the other students act unfazed by the drop in temperature. This is nothing unusual to Emil, but he cannot help but wonder why it was so warm in his classroom.
I’m thinking too hard on this. He dismisses this occurrence and power-walks home. Like on his way to school, the streets are filled with those drifting about. Time does not mean anything to them anymore. Time is forgotten to them, if anything. The cold intensifies. Emil stuffs his hands in his pockets and keeps going until he reaches the dull blue house at the end of the street.
“I’m home,” he announces as he lets himself inside and removes his shoes. The kitchen smells faintly of coffee; Emil assumes his brother served their guest not too long ago. They must be in the basement now. He contemplates introducing himself when his brother makes an appearance.
“Ice, welcome home. Come say hello to our guest.”
“Nice to see you, too, Lukas,” Emil stares and follows his brother to the basement.
“How was school?”
“Fine,” he repeats like clockwork. He then remembers to add, “We got a new student.”
“How is the new kid?”
“Annoying. He sits next to me.”
“Want me to get him to move?” Lukas asks in a light-hearted tone, though his brother knows he is absolutely serious.
“I’m not a child,” Emil grumbles, “and he’s not that annoying.”
When the brothers reach the bottom, the main machine is chugging out a grayish fog and blinking with blue lights. Emil has never asked, but he’s seen this enough to get an idea of the different phases of the machines. Blue lights normally mean the machine is properly functioning. A gray fog means it’s trying to attract spirits, like a sort of pheromone.
A man with messy blonde hair and a knitted brown sweater vest emerges. This must be the new partner. “You’re Emil, I presume,” he says and extends his hand out. “I’m Arthur. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too…” Emil’s voice trails off as he shakes his hand. He seems normal enough. Then again from the outside his brother looks normal, as well. If only the conditions of his behavior and interests were the same.
“He came here all the way from London,” Lukas says. “He can see them, too.”
“Oh.” Emil is not surprised.
Arthur raises his eyebrows at his partner (which are quite thick and black, Emil finally notices). “Can he see them?”
Lukas hunches his shoulders. “Don’t know if he still can. Are you going to tell us, little brother?”
Emil frowns. “I don’t see them anymore. I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“If you say so.” His brother is anything but convinced.
Arthur scratches his head in awe. “Fascinating. I didn’t know you could stop seeing them by simply not believing in them. Have you put that in the books?”
Lukas shakes his head. “It hasn’t been verified because someone doesn’t want to help me with testing.”
“Maybe that’s because it’s silly investing your time into things that don’t exist,” Emil snaps. He turns heel and leaves the basement. He is about to close the door when he catches snippets of the conversation below.
“Bloody hell, I forgot my catalog. It was in my lunch tote, too.”
“Would you like to go retrieve it? Your place isn’t too far away from here.”
“No, I’ll just…and he’ll…”
Emil doesn’t hear the rest. He fixes himself a quick snack of rye bread and smoked salmon and locks himself in his room. An hour passes by. Emil’s plate is empty and his literature homework nearing completion. He normally takes a break at this time to check up on his brother, but today Lukas has Arthur to accompany him.
“Shouldn’t mind…” he absent-mindedly murmurs to himself. His mechanical pencil twirls between his fingers while its owner looks out the window. Gray skies, grey mood. The leaves on the community trees are still fully fleshed out with fiery colors, but through the murky smudges on the old glass panes, the scenery is far from enjoyable.
A small breeze passes through Emil’s neck despite having no drafts in his bedroom. Frowning, he moves his eyes just enough to catch the aftermath of a little intruder, the remains of an animal perhaps.
“Damn house…” Emil pulls his sweater collar up over his neck and tucks his legs close to his chest. He begrudgingly stares at his other window. The sight of the cemetery no longer bothers him, but that doesn’t stop the townsfolk from talking behind his back. He hates the rumors and the teasing. It pisses him off even more that Lukas specifically chose this house on purpose.
Instead of browsing the new modern houses built at the other end of town, Lukas came here on the prospect of purchasing the ancient mini-manor next to the graveyard. The previous owner passed away from pneumonia and didn’t leave a will or inheritance in his name; no one was willing to take up the house or consider destroying it, seeing how the crummy residence was squatting next to the old cemetery. Superstition was the common excuse, yet they decided to preserve the house for one unspeakable reason or two. One thing led to another, and Lukas ended up purchasing the house at a dirt-cheap price. Claiming the house, itself, was the easy step. Renovating it and reconnecting pipes and lines for proper plumbing, electricity, and gas were the costly parts.
Truth be told, Emil might have admitted to liking the house in its mysterious coziness and traditional architecture had it not been for the constant noise from the graves throughout the day. And the cold. Even when the house is hotter than a senior retirement home, there is always room to complain about the cold. Lukas has since grown accustomed to it, but then, he is known to fare better in living conditions than his little brother. Emil fears that if he complains, his brother will catch on, and he can’t have that happening at his age.
It’s alright. It'll pass. He shivers and cups his hands to his mouth. He can see his own breath.
“Break time.” He throws himself from his desk and stomps down the stairs. He will go fix himself a cup of coffee. The cold cannot affect his digestion, at the very least. He used to believe if he continued to eat hot food and drink warm beverages, he would be fine—that was, until the stomachaches started settling in. He has since learned to control his behavior and diet. He doesn’t want to make himself too noticeable.
The kitchen is near the back just one cellar and stairwell from the basement away. Coffee with some warm milk will do on this fine autumn day. Maybe he will add some cinnamon or a sprinkle of sweetened anise to give it a kick. He contemplates choosing the anise when a loud brass ring echoes through the house.
Ding-doooonnng!
“God—fuck!” Emil practically pops out of his skin at the sudden noise. His heart is pounding into his eardrums. The insides of his stomach are twisted upside down. Who in the world is ringing the doorbell here? No one comes to this house.
His senses return when he hears Lukas’ muffled voice calling from the basement. “Ice, can you get that? It’s a delivery.”
“Delivery?” he mumbles and moves to the front door. He cannot see the person on the other side since the stained glass is frosted and murky. The previous owner must have been incredibly tall given that Emil cannot reach the peephole even when standing on his toes. He does not consider himself short, either.
“Coming,” he calls from inside his house and undoes the bolts and locks. He opens the door and braces himself for the chill outdoors when something—or rather someone—is standing right in front of him on his porch.
“Oh. Hey.” It’s Leon, and he is holding what appears to be a flower-embroidered tote complete with a foul-smelling odor leaking out.
Emil’s mouth is agape.
“Steilsson, right? You live here or something?” Leon studies his surroundings. “Shit, if Eyebrows didn’t give me the address, I would’ve taken this place for a haunted house. Can I come inside?”
His thoughts still processing, Emil barely utters an audible “Sure” before stepping out of the new kid’s way. What is going on? Why is Leon Kha-Jia Long Kirkwang-or-whatever-the-fuck in his house?
The new guest removes his shoes and looks around. He posses such an aura that makes him appear as a critique. Though he has not moved from the parlor, it is as though he is deducting imaginary points on the interior-decorating category of the imaginary point grid.
“It’s a freaking oven in here,” he comments, taking off his sleek coat (a different one than at school yet equally expensive-looking) and slinging it over his shoulder. “Is your family made up of cold-blooded lizardmen?”
It is now that Emil regains his grasp of human speech. He starts off by asking him a basic question, “What are you doing here?”
Leon turns to look at him. “Hmm?” He doesn’t look humble or embarrassed at all.
“My house," Emil emphasizes. "What are you doing in my house?”
“I’m here to drop off something,” he answers. “Where’s Arthur?”
Emil arches his eyebrows. “You know him?”
“He’s my dad.” Emil’s heart stops. “Well, one of them. I have another one back in China. It’s kind of…don’t ask. Too complicated and too boring.”
The pieces are slowly falling into place. Leon must have moved here with Arthur. That is why there are two new people showing up on the same day. But if that’s the case, then can this guy…?
“Um, Leon, can I ask you something?”
“You’re asking me something right now, aren’t you?” he smirks.
Smug-ass shit, Emil feels his blood boiling. “What exactly did you come to this place for?”
“I told you. Delivery.”
“Not that. I mean here, as in this town. Why did you move here from Hong Kong?”
The newcomer hands his head and lets out a tired groan. From his tone to his vacant expression, it's as though he is speaking to a child he doesn’t have time for. In short, it pisses Emil off. “It’s family stuff. Things happened, and I got stuck with my English dad. It was either this or go to cram school in backwater China. Is that good enough for you?”
Emil purses his lips together. “Sort of. But do you know what your, er, dad is doing here?”
“Oh, that.” Leon snickers. “He’s into paranormal stuff. Ghosts, spirits, things out of the ordinary. Apparently there’s this, like, totally legit group that does research on this sort of thing, and he gets paid to write reports and papers about it. Like, essays and crap. Can you believe that?”
Actually, I can, Emil almost says but holds himself back. There’s still one last thing to ask him.
“Uh, hey, Steilsson? Like, are you okay? You’re sweating up a storm. You’re not sick, are you? 'Cause if you are...” He starts to step back from him.
Now that he mentions it, Emil is feeling warmer than usual. This cannot be a coincidence. It happened at school and it’s happening again. He puts his hand up to his forehead and feels sweat forming beads along his skin. Embarrassed, he takes off his jacket and uses a sleeve to dry himself off. “I’m fine,” he insists. “Not sick. My brother cranked up the heater earlier.”
“That explains the temperature,” Leon smirks. “Are you, like, gonna show me where I’m supposed to drop this stuff off or what?”
“Follow me,” he sighs. Lukas and Arthur are still in the basement, the main machine still chugging along. The two are so enveloped in their research that they don’t hear Leon walking right up to them and pushing himself up on his father’s shoulders like a vaulting box.
“Ggh! Leon!” Arthur cries, moving away and straightening out his vest. “I thought I told you to behave yourself while you’re a guest!”
His supposed son ignores him. “I got your lunch. Now, like, can I go home?”
“In a moment. I might need you for something else later…” Arthur appears preoccupied with something and returns to his previous uninterrupted state. Emil sees his lips moving, though he cannot make out the words he is saying.
Lukas joins in, taking notes down in his journal before turning his attention to the second guest. “You’re Leon, then. Arthur’s kid?”
“Yup. And you’re the ghost researcher guy?” It’s fleeting, but Emil thinks Leon looks amused if only for a second. “I thought you’d be some kind of whack job like my dad, but you don’t look half bad. How old are you?”
“Old enough to know you shouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Lukas’ tone suddenly changes. It’s heavy with impatience, and the air he gives off feels electrified with contempt. Is there something between Leon and Lukas, Emil wonders?
Whatever the case, Leon clicks his tongue and backs off, telling Arthur he will be upstairs if he needs him. Emil watches, flabbergasted, as his classmate makes quick work of his introduction and saunters off upstairs. You can’t just make yourself at home! Since when did this become your house?
“Ice, go play with Leon outside,” Lukas instructs like a parent. “Keep him out of the basement unless we call for him.”
“Why?” This is getting annoying. “I’m not five. I don’t have to ‘play outside’ with him.” He looks to his brother’s partner. “What do you need him here for, anyway?”
Arthur looks up from his papers with a scrunched face. It has been a while since Emil has studied parental expressions, but he knows enough that the face Arthur wears is one of contemplation. Shall he say something or shall he not? Just spit it out, dammit.
“Leon is…He’s special.” Special? “I don’t know if he got it from his parents or if it was something he picked up from Ya—his other family—but there’s something peculiar about him that makes the supernatural behave differently.”
Emil is taken aback. “You’re saying he can see them?”
“No, that’s the thing: he can’t see them, but he can affect those surrounding him who can. I’ve told Leon about his uncanny ability; however with me…well…not being exactly close with him, it’s hard for him to believe me. I suppose it’s hard to believe anything if you can’t see it.”
Emil does not comment.
Arthur directs himself at Lukas. “I suppose we can always try using your research to see if your theory holds true, Bondevik. If what you wrote is correct, then the apparitions should become visible even to someone like Leon.”
“They should…” Lukas’ dead blue eyes wander to his brother. “…If only someone who was familiar with them in the past could help me with testing first.”
“Pass,” Emil grunts.
“If only someone in this room could do it…someone I call my precious little brother.”
“Not doing it, Lukas. I’ve had enough of your stupid antics. I don’t want to put up with it now. Why am I even here? Why are we—?” He shakes his head. “Forget it. I’m out. I’m going to finish my homework.”
Arthur comments about his attitude while he leaves, not the part about refusing his brother’s offer, though. “Such a studious young man. I wish Leon picked up a thing or two. He’s smart, but I get the feeling he’s investing his energy and time into other things.”
Speaking of Leon, he is lounging on one of the old loveseats, flipping mindlessly through his phone. He’s made himself completely at home.
“Don’t you have homework you need to be doing?” Emil crosses his arms.
“I’ll do it later,” his classmate lazily responds. “Besides, my stuff is back at the house. Arthur wants me here, so I’m staying here.”
A heavy sigh leaves Emil’s chest. He watches him for a moment and decides to leave the guest be. Before carrying himself out, however, he pushes his sleeves back. It has never been this hot before. In fact, Leon has since stripped down to his t-shirt. The house should be at an even temperature throughout, same goes for the basement. But it was freezing down there. Why is it so warm here?
“Getting stuffy?” Leon asks without even needing to look up.
Emil swallows. “It’s usually not this hot around here.”
“Tell me about it. It’s like a sauna.” He clicks his phone off. “You sure you’re not reptiles in human clothing?”
“Positive,” Emil flatly responds. “I was wondering about something: Arthur says you can’t see ‘them.’ Is that true?”
Amused, Leon chuckles. “What do you care? Can you see them, yourself?”
“I…I used to.”
“Really.” Unconvinced.
“Let me back up. Do you even consider they might exist?”
Leon’s golden eyes look off to the side as if trying to find hidden cameras scattered around the house. While skeptical, there is no reason for him to not tell the truth. “If Arthur can make a living out of it, obviously something’s going on down there in your basement.”
“Alright, then.” Emil takes a breath. “Can you keep a secret? I-It probably doesn’t mean anything to you since, well, you know...but I’ve never actually spoken about this to anyone.”
“Hey, it’s not every day you see someone who studies the afterlife.” He is thankfully being mellow about it. Emil can appreciate that. “So what’s eatin’ you up, Steilsson?”
He fidgets with his hands and notices how pale he is underneath. Having been haunted by his ability since birth, he has grown accustomed to wearing long-sleeved clothing. Now, after meeting Leon, things have started to change.
First thing’s first. “You can call me Emil. Or Ice. There’s no need to be formal.”
Leon raises an eyebrow. They aren’t as thick as Arthur’s, but he wonders if his father’s morning routine has somehow affected his son’s appearances. “Where’d ‘Ice’ come from?”
“It’s because, I guess, I’ve always been cold.” He fingers his hair. “Cold skin, cold attitude, and my hair if you haven’t noticed…”
“Yeah, that’s cool.” Leon is smiling. “I’ve never seen someone with hair like yours. Or your eyes. The white goes well with that shade of violet. I like it.”
Now Emil is feeling a different kind of hot. No one has ever complimented his appearances before. People have said it was weird that he had white hair at such a young age, and his eyes were thought to be an unnatural hue compared to those with blue eyes. He has always done his best to ignore those remarks, but now that someone says he likes his appearance, he does not know how to respond.
Luckily, Leon notices his flustered silence, and instead of teasing him as he did before, he moves back to the original subject. “Cool. Ice, then. I’ll call you Ice. Anyway, you were saying something about keeping a secret. What were you going to tell me?”
“I-I…” Deep breaths, he tells himself. The warm air feels good in his lungs. “I’ve always been able to see them. I still do.”
Leon does not say anything.
Unsure if he is listening or stunned, Emil continues. “I told my brother a long time ago that I stopped seeing them to make him quit worrying about me. But I lied to him. I see them all the time. At home, at school, around town…I can’t stand it. There’s no one to talk to about this, and then you two show up…” His lips keep moving but his voice is lost. His body is shaking despite the warmth.
“…So are they here right now?” Leon breaks the silence.
“What?”
“The…uh…ghosts. Spirits. Are they here?”
Emil freezes. He acted too impulsively. They must be listening. They know he can still see them now. Frightened, he looks around for any sight of them, the stabbed man in the pantry, the gouged blind soldier in the closet, the snapped mice and gutted dog passing up and down between the floorboards. None of them are here.
What is going on…?
“Um, Ice?” Leon leans towards him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” though he is anything but. “They aren’t here. They should be, but they aren’t. I don’t understand. They’re always here.”
Surprisingly, the look on Leon’s face isn’t one of disappointment or amusement. If anything, he is wearing the look of someone who knew this would be the outcome. “Figures,” he says. “Arthur was telling me the same thing.”
Emil blinks.
Leon explains, “He was trying to show me how some of the ghosts or whatever can interact with the physical world, but every time he tells me he has one’s attention, they’re just gone. It’s like they never existed. Maybe they really don’t.”
“But they do,” Emil insists, his voice rising. “It’s not a prank. I know they’re here. I’m not making this up. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to live like this…!”
“Okay, okay.” Leon holds up his hands to stop him and lowers his voice. “I never said I didn’t believe you. I don’t think you’re making any of this up.” He bites his lower lip. “Listen, I was chatting with some of our classmates today. I sit next to you, right? So they were talking about you.”
Emil withholds a pained expression. “What did they say?”
“They said you and your brother are both…” He sighs. “There’s no good way to put it. They think you’re psychos. Your brother’s research always goes public, so it’s not like everyone else is in the dark. Some of the kids believe if they get close to you, they’ll start seeing things, too. And some think you might be a ghost, yourself. Uh, I’m not the one who said that, alright? That’s what other people having been thinking.”
It’s so cruel it’s comical. Emil has known some of his classmates for five years. He grew up with them. He may have kept his socializing to a minimum, but that does not make him less human, does it?
“Ice…? How are you feeling?”
A short breath escapes his lungs. The heat is near unbearable. It pours out in the form of tears streaming down his cheeks. He mistakes his sounds for hiccups until he realizes he is laughing.
How can he ask that? After hearing the rumors and lies about him, after knowing what he sees and has to endure, why should he care how he is feeling?
Why?
Something squeezes him. He is still trembling, but his movements are confined in between a pair of arms. It’s been so long since he felt something like this. It’s warm. It’s so warm.
Emil is a mess when he finally stops. His hair is tousled from leaning against Leon and his eyes are dry and swollen. Leon’s shirt is wrinkled from hugging him.
“Sorry about that, Ice.”
Perhaps it's because he is deprived of oxygen, but Emil lets out a shaky laugh. “Why are you apologizing?”
Leon shrugs. “I wasn’t sure if you were okay with me doing that. How are you?”
“Better. I think I needed that.” He dabs his eyes with a wadded tissue and chucks it into the wastebasket. “Are you fine with this?”
“With what?”
“Knowing what I see, what’s around us.”
“I’m not going to pretend like I’m aware of them,” Leon states. “I still can’t see them. Arthur said I have this thing about me where ‘they’ aren’t there when I’m around.” He stops to think. “It’s probably why you were taking off your coat at school, am I right?”
Emil shortly nods. “It’s always cold when they’re present.”
“So, like, is our school haunted, then?”
“Huh?”
“You were talking about how it’s cold. Are they, like, seriously in the school, too, then?”
“Yeah. Lots of them.” He attempts to study the look on Leon’s face, but he cannot tell if he is excited or frightened. It’s hard to read him. “They’re not students, though, and I wouldn’t say it’s haunted, or at least, I haven’t paid enough attention. Our school was built over an old war bunker that was gassed out.” He cringes his shoulders. “There are a lot of them on the lower floors.”
Leon makes a face. “Yech. Sucks to be them. Is it really better to ignore them? I mean, isn’t there supposed to be a reason why they’re still wandering all over the place?”
“I don’t know,” Emil admits. “You’d think they were stuck here because they have unfinished business to take care of, but we’re not even sure if there’s another side or how it works. Even animals turn up now and then. My brother’s specialty is studying the afterlife. The thing you saw in the basement, the big one, is supposed to be used to communicate with whatever ‘other side’ there is. Supposedly, the ones who have crossed over, as you might call it, have better grips on their memories and explain the process better. It’s still finicky. I don’t pay attention to the full details.”
“Wait, but you can actually communicate with them, can’t you?”
“I could if I wanted to, but it’d be too much of a pain.”
“Why? Your brother?”
Emil wrinkles his brow. “That’s one of the reasons. The main thing is that once they know you can see them, they’ll all try to ask if you can help them.”
“Is there any…I dunno, benefit to helping them?”
“That’s…” Emil’s voice fades. “It’s not my place to say for certain. There are those who might be happier being here, those with fond memories of the people and places here. But they don’t fully grasp what they want most of the time until it’s too late. Sometimes it’s painful.” His hands form fists. “I’m not strong enough to handle it. I’m not a medium and I’m not a saint. I’ve seen what getting involved does to people. I don’t want to be a part of it.”
Leon stares. “…Did something happen?”
“Leon!” It’s Arthur. “Come down here! We need you for a moment!”
“Coming!” he shouts back and gets up. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have pried. And hey, you might want to, like, maybe stay out of your brother’s way today. It can take a day or so for your eyes to get better.”
At the suggestion, Emil rubs his eyes. They do feel puffy, and it is hard to keep them open.
“Want me to tell your brother you’re going to be stuck in your room all day?” Leon suggests. “You might need to get some food, but it’s the easiest solution.”
“That could work, actually,” Emil considers. “Will you do that for me?”
“Sure,” he smiles. “Then…I guess I’ll be heading home after this. See you tomorrow?”
“Mm, see you tomorrow.” He tells his feet to move yet he does not budge. Even at this short distance, he can feel the cold returning. Already he misses it, the warmth. “Leon,” he calls to him. His chest leaps when he sees those golden eyes looking back at him.
“Wassup?”
“…Thank you.”
A smile spread on Leon’s face. “No problem, Ice. Hang in there, alright?”
“I’ll manage,” he smiles back.
“See ya.” He waves in his previous curt fashion and disappears down the basement. The moment he is out of sight, a cold fog falls over Emil’s body. No longer safe from the wandering souls, he takes Leon’s advice to heart and goes to his room. On the way up the stairs, he spots the soldier letting out a low groan as his left eye dangles out of its socket. The mice are back, too, skittering up the walls in clumsy hobbles, their vertebrae snapped in half after falling victim to traps.
Everything has returned to normal, Emil’s “normal,” that is. Today, for the first time in his tormented life, he was able to experience…
Just life in general…
It’s so inviting, and yet so unfair. What normal people take for granted is all but a desire for him. But there’s Leon. Whatever it is, something about his presence makes things return to normal. Emil can feel normal with him there. He longs for that feeling again. An hour, a month from now, to experience such warmth will be worth waiting for. His heart stirs. He is looking forward to tomorrow.