Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At first, Branzy genuinely didnt notice the strange things happening around him, chalking it up to his unmedicated ADHD.

An open window or this could've just been him forgetting to close them before leaving, or maybe he opened them after coming back but forgot about it?

All of his valuables were still there, so it was plausible.

Things not being where they belonged was pretty much standard for him because of his incredibly poor object permanence. So of course he wouldn’t really think anything of his keys being misplaced or his phone disappearing and randomly reappearing in the fridge.

The faucet being on for some reason? Probably him forgetting to turn it off when washing his hands. Which… probably wasn’t going to look good on his water bills… Ouch, his poor wallet…

And who knew? Maybe his chronic bad luck finally started being evened out when he woke up a minute before arriving at his stop on the - admittedly far too frequent - occasion that he fell asleep on the train to his university.

The random shivers up his spine? Probably his body’s inability to properly regulate his temperature. Maybe even a nervous tic, who knows.

Yes, Branzy was certain all of these strange occurrences could be simply explained by his ADHD. Nothing weird.

It did start becoming a little weird, however, when his plastic vase (which he had gotten from Rek with the words “Because you would have already found a way to break it yesterday if it was glass LMAO” scribbled on a note) kept falling unnatural ways from the shelf he kept it on in for literally no reason, really. Seriously, how did it keep falling in a room with closed windows and Branzy sitting (surprisingly) still a few meters away?! He didn’t even have any neighbours at the time and it was pretty quiet, no earthquake, nothing. And yet the vase kept falling- No, not even falling! The vase fucking flung at him. Even if there had been an earthquake, the vase wouldn’t fucking hit him when he was sitting on the other end of the room.

So yeah, Branzy might have been a little suspicious at that point.

He decided to ignore it, though, instead putting it back in place without acknowledging it any further. If this was a prank, the pranker was not getting a reaction out of him.

Apparently ignoring his problems was not the right thing to do, though, seeing as after a week of vases flung at his head and whispers in his ears, when Branzy was going to shower after a long day of university and work, the bathroom mirror had red writing on it. Writing that looked like it was made of, um, a certain… bodily, uh… liquid that was… typically red and… supposed to be inside of the human- not even human, just in vertebrate bodies. Inside. And definitely not on his bathroom mirror.

“Ho l la sno whair, doth not ign 're m e.”

It took Branzy a few minutes to decipher (mainly because of the massive shock of there being BLOOD ON HIS MIRROR!!), but he was fairly certain it was supposed to spell out ‘Holla snowhair, doth not ign’rre me’, which- Embarrassingly enough, Branzy actually had to google what all was supposed to mean.

It got less embarrassing, though, when Branzy found that the sentence was in Shakespearean English. Who in their right mind thought they’d come off as creepy with Shakespearean English?!

Anyhow, Branzy tried to pretend like that wasn’t just the most ridiculous thing he could imagine at the moment (seriously, whoever wrote that had serious issues…). 

So what the pranker(?) was trying to say (while sounding special) was “Hello snowhair, do not ignore me.”.

Also, what on earth was ‘snowhair’? Like, seriously, that had to be one of the weirdest nicknames Branzy had gotten. Not even Chief , CEO of weird nicknames had ever called him that.

Branzy was about to make a comment about it out loud, when suddenly the lights flickered and turned off.

Branzy blinked. What in tarnation?! This didn’t feel that much like a cheap prank from his friends anymore. That feeling furthered when the low voice he had heard on and off the past few weeks - which probably should have been more concerning to Branzy, oops - suddenly sounded clear.

“Oh mine own fucking god,” the voice said, sounding a little aggravated and not like any of Branzy’s friends at all, “I gage, if 't be true thee ign're this one, i shall genuinely loseth mine own fucking the horror.”

The work Branzy had to put into not laughing at that was a lot harder than trying to keep a customer-service smile at a Karen at his job, but through the latter experiences he could channel a poker face as he blindly reached for the light switch.

The light flickered on and there was a fucking person behind Branzy.

A very bloody person.

So naturally, Branzy ignored them and flicked the light switch again, hoping the person would be gone then.

They weren’t gone. Just a little more transparent. Definitely a ghost.

“Well damn…” Branzy muttered, deciding that if the ghost had the nerve to fuck with him, he would fuck with it back, and pulled out his phone to record, “‘Holla snowhair, doth not ign’re me.’ Chief, your pranks are getting worse. Seriously, Shakespearean English? ‘Snowhair’ ?! Get good.”

Through his phone he could see the reaction from the ghost clearly. Their face was very bloody, but it wasn’t impossible to see their eyebrows furrow and their hands, which were balled in fists by their sides, shake. Their mouth moved quickly, but no words came out.

For his next move, Branzy decided to continue to ignore it and just clean it up.

It was a little awkward, trying to remove the blood from the mirror, because no matter how much he scrubbed or what things he used to remove it, there was a transparent red glow where the blood had been. It was also kind of hard to ignore the ghost moving around him and whispering what Branzy assumed were old swears under their breath.

“Seriously…” Branzy mumbled under his breath, “What on earth did Chief use for this, edding?!”

The ghost, likely annoyed at how unbothered Branzy was and being ignored, left the room, slamming the door in the process.

As soon as the door closed, Branzy’s facade broke and he choked out a laugh. 

What the fuck was this situation?

Once Branzy came out from his bathroom in fresh clothes and a towel on his hair, he was greeted by a mess that looked like someone had abandoned a cat in a room for a week without food. Every single thing that once stood on a shelf was now on the floor, though upon further inspection… Branzy realised that nothing was broken.

Not even the very fragile Minecraft glass painting. It looked incredibly carefully placed as if it was supposed like it was flung down from its spot without actually being broken.

Branzy wasn’t extremely happy with all of his things on the floor, but his heart warmed a little at the care put in the placement of his fragile things.

That warmth immediately left, though, when he found the ghost standing above his stuffed squid on the floor with a knife laying on top and his raspberry jam smeared on the top of the knife and the floor, seeming to be placed carefully as to not dirty the plushie.

Branzy could give up and react to it now, giving the ghost what it wanted, but… he kind of wanted to see how far the ghost would go if he continued ignoring it.

“Huh,” he mumbled, “I forgot to finish cleaning the shelves and put the stuff back…”

He squatted down and carefully sorted the things on the floor. It took him an hour and a half, but eventually he got everything back on the shelves. It usually wouldn’t have taken him as long, but there wasn’t much he could do when occasionally the thing he just put up was on the floor again, or pure the coldness of the ghost moving through him forced him to drop what he was holding, but eventually he managed to get it done.

Once he did, he went to bed and tried to sleep. ‘Tried’ because falling asleep with minutely ice-cold touches and echoey whispers proved to be quite a challenge. 

But Branzy wasn’t going to give up here.

So, it had been a week since that incident and Branzy’s flat was a warzone. The ghost kept messing with Branzy’s things and only seemed to escalate more the longer Branzy ignored them. They weren’t always visible, switching between visible and invisible seemingly at random, which made it a lot harder for Branzy to keep track of them.

What he did figure out was that the ghost was somehow connected to the ancient-looking, sealed shut locket he had gotten at a fleamarket for a lot cheaper than it was probably worth (for a freaking halloween costume), which his friend group jokingly referred to as the ‘good-luck-locket’ because every time he had it on him he miraculously was saved from a bad thing, such as missing his stop because he slept, finding things he lost while outside or finding the exact book he needed for an assignment just laying on a table in the student library - all things the ghost was behind, probably; without the locket everything was just normal, apparently. He started to carry the locket on him less once he figured that out, not wanting the ghost to wreak havoc in public. 

Branzy knew that he really shouldn’t provoke the ghost any more by ignoring them, but he was already so deep in that he feared it’d be weird if he suddenly stopped now. So he continued playing off everything the ghost did as normal.

That obviously was a bad idea and it proved itself not too long after.

It had been a long, long day and all Branzy wanted was to go to sleep. He had been late for uni because he fell asleep on the train and wasn’t woken up by the ghost because he hadn’t brought his ‘good-luck-playing-locket’, classes had been stressful and his professors, his classmates, his boss, his customers, everyone seemed to be out for him and he just wanted to be left alone and sleep - preferably forever. Not really the best time to have a ghost with the personality of a cat that didn’t get enough attention in his only safe space.

So it probably didn’t need to be said that when he came home to all of his things strewn across the floor in a mess that anyone could see would take hours to clean up, he didn’t take it too well.

Honestly, it was his fault for provoking the ghost for so long, but he just couldn’t deal with all of this. So, after staring at the mess for a solid minute, he broke down crying. He couldn’t deal with this; he couldn’t.

His entire flat was a mess that he couldn’t even walk through and it was all too much and he couldn’t deal with any of this.

He wasn’t going to deal with this, not now; he couldn’t.

He knew leaving wouldn’t do anything and the longer he waited to clean up the mess, the longer it would be there, but right now he just needed to step back and- and just. Just leave.

Letting out a frustrated cry, Branzy dropped his bag on the floor and left his apartment in quick, big steps, clutching his lighter in his jacket pocket.

Had he been any more attentive in that moment, he would have heard the little gasp from inside; felt glowing, heterochromic eyes on him and noticed his keys slipping out of his pocket just a few seconds before his apartment door slammed shut in a confused ghost’s face.

But he hadn’t been paying attention to any of that. He was tired and angry and needed to walk.

And so he walked and walked and walked and walked until he was at the lake an hour away from home. He hadn’t even realised that he’d been walking for that long until he stood by the dock. Getting home would be a pain, especially considering his wallet with his student’s ticket was in his bag which he had left at home when he left during his little breakdown. 

He sat down on the dock and pulled his knees to his chest, sighing. He really needed to go home as soon as possible, but he wasn’t ready to face the mess inside.

Technically, he could ask Rek or Chief if he could stay the night, but avoiding that issue wouldn’t help him. And he didn’t want to take advantage of their kindness; especially not when he couldn’t even tell them why. Like, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey Chief and/or Rek, a ghost that has been haunting me for like a month or so now kind of trashed my apartment because I completely ignored all of their attempts to get a reaction and I broke down and walked an hour because of that. Could you please come get me and let me stay in your house for the night or, like, preferably forever?’, or what? Sure, fat chance.

He really needed to face the chaos ASAP, but he was so exhausted already and he still had to walk for an hour to get home and then clear his way to his bed and hope that it was still usable! Not to mention that he was starving and Jesus, Branzy had no freaking idea what to do.

He continued sitting there for a few more minutes before forcing himself to stand back up and find his way back home. His legs hurt a little and it was getting darker and walking home alone was frankly dangerous, but there was nothing else he could really do at this point. So he walked away from the lake, regretting all of his life decisions that had led to this point.

In the progressively getting darker town, it didn’t take him long to get lost. At first, when Branzy stopped recognising his surroundings, he tried to deny it, hoping he’d find the way home, but after ten minutes of walking around in an unfamiliar neighbourhood, he had to admit to himself that he was lost. He stopped beneath an unlit street lamp and took some deep breaths. Behind the houses, the sun went down and all Branzy could do was watch the last rays of sunlight disappear. This was fine, he could still just… Branzy put his hand in his right pocket in search of his phone, but it wasn’t there. What? He searched through all of his pockets, but the only things he had on him were a pack of gums, his empty lighter and some tissues. Surely not… The streetlight turned on, just in time with the realisation that his phone was still inside of his bag because of the exam he had earlier hitting him.

“Oh my God…” he whispered to himself as his brain supplied him with countless scenarios of what could possibly happen to him now, “Why am I such an idiot?”

“What happened?” a voice from behind him asked, startling him.

Branzy turned around and saw Parrot. Oh, right. Parrot lived in the area…

Parrot cleared his throat. “I mean,” he said, holding out his hand in a stop hand, “Stop. What happened?”

“Oh, uh… Hey Parrot,” Branzy said, forcing a smile. “I forgot you live around here.”

“Uh-huh…” Parrot said, raising an eyebrow, “Okay. And, uh, what happened? Why do you think you’re an idiot? Not- not that I think you’re not - I do think you’re an insanely stupid idiot, really, I do - just, any particular reasoning?”

Branzy snorted. “Ah, yeah… I just. Kinda needed to go out to clear my head a little and got lost and now I’m kinda stranded here without my things?” Branzy said, though his statement ended up sounding more like a question.

Parrot blinked. “You’re right,” he said, “You are an idiot. A dumb fucking itiot. However, you are an idiot with a friend. I can drive you home. My car’s parket right over there.” He pointed his car to somewhere behind Branzy and when Branzy looked, all sanity left his body. How on God’s green fucking earth did he manage to get into these situations. How did this situation get even worse- well, not… worse , but… a lot more weird than it had been before, when Branzy was lowkey in a war of patience with a freaking ghost. The car Parrot was pointing to was a sized up silver convertible two-seat barbie car with pegasus wings for doors, pink seating, rainbow wheels, star lights and a holographic windshield. Yeah… Well, it was not like Branzy was in any place to complain, so he just nodded and followed Parrot to his car.

As the two sat inside and put on their seatbelts, Branzy let out a relieved sigh.

“Thanks, Parrot,” he said, “I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t find me just now…”

“Yeah, no problem,” Parrot said, putting on parrot themed sunglasses, like sunglasses but the things around the lenses were red parrots, and flight gloves. How did Branzy know they were flight gloves? Simple. They had ‘FLIGHT GLOVES’ printed on in bold rainbow lettering. Yeah… Branzy was a little confused.

“So, uh-,” he said, trying to make small talk. “Uh, you can drive?”

“No, I can’t,” Parrot said.

Branzy suddenly felt very unsafe. More unsafe than before.

“Kidding, kidding,” Parrot said, laughing slightly.

Ah, he was kidding… That- yeah, of course he was-

“Or am I?” Parrot asked blankly.

Before Branzy could debate over whether or not he should just walk home instead, Parrot started up the car and started driving.

Welp, here they went…

After about five minutes, four kilometers and seventy-six traffic violations, Parrot scoffed.

“This is taking too long,” he muttered. “Hey, do you mind if I take flight here?”

Branzy had no idea what that was supposed to mean. He could only assume that it meant that Parrot wanted to drive even faster. Since Parrot already broke so many traffic regulations and Branzy didn’t feel like he had that much of a choice here without seeming rude, he just nodded.

“Cool,” Parrot said, pulling some switches and suddenly the car launched into the fucking air, speeding up immensely. Branzy couldn’t help but wordlessly scream at the sudden, unexpected, definitely illegal, dangerous, terrifying elevation.

He turned to Parrot who had a calm expression mixed with a little bit of annoyance (likely at Branzy screaming into his ear) on his face.

“WHAT THE FUCK, PARROT?!” Branzy screamed.

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up Branzy,” Parrot said and Branzy shut the fuck up, “I literally asked if I could fly; why are you being so dramatic about it?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually fly?!” Branzy shouted, albeit a lot more quietly than before.

“Well, that’s a you problem then!” Parrot shouted back, speeding up a little, “I was communicating very clearly what I wanted to do and you interpreted it weirdly, like, it’s not my fault that you decided to neurotypical on me!”

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?!” Branzy shouted, offended at being compared to a- a neurotypical, “I did not neurotypical on you! How was I meant to know your car had the ability to fucking take flight?!”

“Well, how was I meant to know that cars can’t fucking fly in your eyes?!” Parrot shouted back, also sounding offended.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Branzy shouted, “Can we please stop shouting now?”

“Yeah sure;” Parrot responded calmly, sounding as though he hadn’t been shouting at all.

When Branzy tried to answer, all that came out was hacked coughs.

“Bro, breathe,” Parrot said, glancing at Branzy, “Seriously.”

Very good advice for someone who was coughing their throat out. 

Two minutes later, once Branzy’s body wasn’t trying to eject his throat, he looked down. Wasn’t that great of an idea because suddenly he was feeling pretty sick and terrified. There was a reason you weren’t supposed to look down in high spaces, especially not when you had a tiny bit of sanity left and were scared of heights.

But he did recognise his surroundings- well, the town he was looking down at.

“We’ll be at your place in a minute, don’t worry,” Parrot said, “You mind if I drop you off on your roof, or should I park on the street for you?”

“Uh- street,” Branzy said quickly, “The apartment complex doesn’t have a door to the roof.”

“Ugh. Why wouldn’t they?” Parrot asked, though it sounded like he didn’t expect an answer, so Branzy didn’t answer. “Alright, hold on tight because we’re about to dive!”

Branzy held on to the side of the vehicle as quickly as he could because dive they did. It was honestly surprising that they survived and didn’t even crash into anything. Well, aside from the trash can and the grandma who was taking it out… Oh well…

“Welp,” Parrot said as he halted the car, “We’re here. Get out of my car, loser.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks for the ride,” Branzy said awkwardly and got out of the car.

“Yeah, no problem,” Parrot said, “If you could, please leave my uber service a five star Oobly Goobly review.”

Branzy nodded, turning to walk to the door before realising something and stopping in his tracks. 

“Wait…” he said, slowly turning around to look at Parrot again. “How on earth do you know where I live?”

“Uh-” Parrot said awkwardly, “Yeah, bye!”

And suddenly the car took off flying again and Parrot was gone.

What the fuck…

“What the fuck…” Branzy muttered, feeling his exhaustion crash back onto him, now that he wasn’t in mortal danger anymore. And God, he still had to clear the mess upstairs…

Letting out a deep sigh, Branzy turned back to the door and walked closer to punch in the code for the front door. 42999-63366.

The lock clicked open, Branzy pushed open the door and it fell shut behind him.

Branzy walked up the stairs and with each step he took, his body felt heavier.

Floor one, floor two, floor three.

He really didn’t want to have to do this now.

Floor four, floor five.

Or ever, really.

Finally he reached floor six. He leaned against the wall next to his door, resting his cheek against the cold wall as he rummaged for his keys inside of his jacket pockets. When he found them empty, he moved on to his trousers’ front pockets and-

Pause, what?

Branzy blinked back into full consciousness and stood up straight.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Where were his keys?

He knew he had put them into his right jacket pocket, so why weren’t they-?

His mind flashed back to when he realised he didn’t have his phone.

All he had on him then were the pack of gums, his lighter and a pack of tissues. He didn’t have his keys then.

Oh God, what if he had lost them by the lake? 

Branzy could barely breathe as he slid down against the wall, pressing his hands over his face.

What was he going to do?

What was he-

How would he-

Why-

Why was this-

Why was this happening to him?

What was he meant to do?

Oh God, how was he-

Breathe.

He needed to breathe and allow himself to think.

Think, think, think.

A painful but grounding pressure built against his scalp and Branzy slowly realised he was pulling on his hair.

Deep breath in.

He was going to be fine.

Hold the breath.

He just needed to think.

Deep breath out.

Right.

When he had left earlier, he had gripped his lighter. His lighter was in his right jacket pocket.

The same pocket his keys were supposed to be in.

Think hard.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember feeling the keys against his hand when he stormed out of the flat at all.

No, he was sure they weren’t in his pocket at that time.

So that left his way back from uni to getting home because he had fidgeted with his keys while saying bye to Vitalasy.

On the train, he had taken out his keys and messed with the keychain-ring. Was that where he lost them?

No, he remembered putting them back when he had petted an old lady’s fluffy, white dog.

Did he still have his keys when he got off the train? When he checked into his customer service job in the tech company?

He wasn’t entirely sure about-

Wait.

Why was he even doing this?

He couldn’t have lost his keys on his way home, he had been inside.

He had been inside and saw the mess, which was why he left in the first place.

The key had to be in the building. It could only be down a floor or inside of his flat.

Branzy forced himself up and quickly walked down the stairs. He looked around but saw no keys anywhere.

The key hadn’t been upstairs either, so that only left his flat.

Fuck.

He slowly trotted to his door.
His key wasn’t lost lost, but it was inside and he was still locked out.

Still, he had barely taken a few steps inside earlier; maybe if he’d reach beneath the door, he’d be able to fish out the key?

It was worth a try…

Branzy kneeled down, pressing his cheek against the cold, hard floor to peer beneath the door. He just hoped no one would see him like this. Not that anyone had a reason to come up here anyways…

Alright, focus.

Branzy could see his key. Well, keys. Plural.

Issue was, his hands wouldn’t fit inbetween the door and the floor. The gap was barely a centimeter - probably even less - tall and Branzy didn’t have any long, thin object on him.

Besides, his key was on his keychain, which was a lot thicker than the gap.

Well, fuck.

He let himself flop against the floor.

Oh God, what was he going to do now ? He had gone through all of his options and none of them had worked…

Tears started to prickle against his eyes and Branzy was so ready to give up and just- just do something - or maybe nothing- probably nothing, but a light jingle from the other side of the door raised his attention.

He barely managed to focus in on what he was seeing in time to see his keys elevating from the floor.

The ghost!  

He could hear the ghost’s quiet and muffled voice - this time by the door, he thought - and, though he couldn’t make out the exact words, he could tell it wasn’t hostile right now. 

He could try to…

No, he couldn’t. 

He had to.

“Hey?” he asked quietly before lightly clearing his throat, “Hey, uh, hey ghost-person?”

Silence.

Oh no…

What if the ghost decided to ignore him in turn for him ignoring them for so long?

He was never going to get back ins-

“Snowhair?” the quiet voice of the ghost asked back and suddenly, Branzy could see an orange eye and a part of a pale, bloody face framed by black hair on the other side of the door.

“Y-yeah, it’s- it’s me,” Branzy said, wincing at the voice crack. “Could- could you let me in, please?”

Oh God, what was he doing?

Why would the ghost-

The face disappeared and Branzy jumped when he heard the doorknob turn.

It didn’t open, but the ghost was willing to help. That’s what this had to mean, right?

Branzy quickly got back on his feet, getting slightly dizzy at the way too fast movement.

As soon as his brain got back working he realised the problem.

“There- there’s a lock on the top half of the door,” he said, “Extra security meas- anyways, you- you just need to turn it.”

“Oh.”

He could hear a small grunt and then…

Click. 

“Now- now try again,” Branzy said hopefully and sure enough, the door opened ever so slightly.

He placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed it further open.

There the ghost stood in all their bloody, transparent glory.

Branzy couldn’t look away.

They wore a red, black and white clown-looking outfit with tons of ruffles, though the colours were barely visible through the massive blood stains and the transparency. There were three pretty deep-looking wounds barely visible through holes in the top. Blood was dripping from their barely visible face, though the blood never seemed to reach the floor. Ash black hair fell around and partly over their face.

And though Branzy could barely see their face through the hair and all the blood, he could recognise the look in their eyes; the nervousity and… guilt?

Oh Jesus…

“Hey,” Branzy said, voice cracking, and waved slightly, his shoulders drawn up.

Chapter Text

“Hey.”

The ghost didn’t reply to Branzy’s greeting. They just simply stood in the doorway and watched as Branzy stood there, shifting a little uncomfortably.

“Can… Can I come in?” Branzy asked, rubbing his arm, unsure of what his next move should be.

The ghost blinked their slightly glowing eyes before stepping back and to the side, allowing Branzy to enter. As he did, he noticed how the ghost was wringing their pale and bloody hands in front of their chest; how they were worrying at their bottom lip and their heterochromic eyes darted around, not meeting his.

Branzy closed the door and looked around. The flat was clean, almost to the point of looking like nothing had ever been misplaced. The only evidence that the flat had been trashed were the few stray things still on the floor, some in other places than usual, and the over-all more tidy atmosphere.

Branzy took his keys from the clothing rack and put them where they belonged in the little bowl on the cabinet near the door.

“Sorry,” the ghost said, suddenly, “I- uh, I wasn’t sure where it belonged and then you were suddenly here and I panicked and put it there ‘cause it looked like a plausible place to put it. Sorry-”

“It’s- it’s okay,” Branzy said, putting his hands up in what he hoped was a calming manner, “It’s fine, I’m not mad.”

The ghost nodded and went back to fidgeting with their hands.

Branzy took off his jacket and started walking to the bathroom and the ghost’s head snapped towards him. Branzy stopped short.

“I’m just washing my hands,” he said and slowly continued walking after the ghost nodded. He quickly washed his hands and splashed some water in his face for good measure before leaving the bathroom to see the ghost still standing exactly where they had been standing before Branzy left.

They looked very uncomfortable, snapping their fingers and bouncing on the balls of their feet. After their gaze snapped to Branzy after he came out, it went back to darting around the corridor almost as though they were afraid of looking at a spot for too long. The snapping fingers turned into shaking hands and Branzy felt like he should say something.

Problem was that he didn’t know what to say.

What did one say to a ghost they had been ignoring for almost a month?

‘Sorry for ignoring you, I just kinda thought I’d be funny to see how far you’ll go for attention.”? That just made him sound like an asshole, which… Actually, now that he thought about it, he was an asshole.

The ghost looked so anxious and uncomfortable and a whole new rock formed in Branzy’s stomach. He had ignored them for no reason when it was obvious that they desperately wanted to be acknowledged and they just did what he expected: escalate. For good reason, too. Branzy didn’t know what he would do if he was consequently ignored by a person he was stuck with. And still the ghost was the only one who had apologised so far.

Branzy cleared his throat and the ghost immediately looked directly at him. His breath stopped for a second. Their face looked like that of a kicked kitten in a dead human’s ghost’s body. He needed to apologise.

“I’m-” he tried but his voice faltered, “We, uh, we need to talk.”

The ghost stared him down for a good few seconds before nodding.

“We could go to my room for this?” Branzy said nervously, “Or to the living room, I don’t mind. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The ghost blinked at him.

“What?” they asked, sounding so genuinely confused and now Branzy blinked at them.

“I’m asking where you want to talk,” Branzy said, “It doesn’t have to be the bedroom or living room, I just thought they’d be most comfortable.”

“...Why are you asking where I want to talk?” the ghost asked slowly, sounding almost suspicious.

“Because I think this is going to be a… I don’t know, longer? conversation and I want you to be comfortable,” Branzy said, cocking his head slightly.

The ghost didn’t answer, instead staring at him.

“Really,” he continued, “I want you to be comfortable. This… probably is a lot scarier to you.”

“I’m not scared,” the ghost said, then, voice oddly even.

“Okay, not scared,” Branzy agreed, “Still. I want you to feel safe.”

The ghost just continued staring at Branzy and Branzy was about to say something again when they finally spoke again.

“...Fine,” they said.

“So uh, living room or bedroom?” Branzy asked, “Or somewhere else?”

“...What’s a living room?” the ghost asked.

“...What?”

“‘Living room’,” they said, “That’s what you said. What is that? I’d- I’d asume all of your rooms are living rooms or do you have a room for when you’re dead? Or- or is the room alive? What?”

Branzy laughed nervously. “Uh, you know, the room with the couch and the small table and the bookshelf?”

“‘Couch’ as in sofa?” the ghost asked and Branzy nodded slowly, “So… The parlour?”

“...Sure,” Branzy said awkwardly.

“The parlour, then,” the ghost said, nodding to themselves.

“Alright, let’s go, then,” Branzy said, smiling slightly as he walked to the living room. The ghost float-walked after him, stopping by the couch when Branzy sat down. They only sat down when Branzy patted the space beside him. Well, not really sat down, Branzy supposed, since the couch didn’t move at all beneath them.

“So, uh…” Branzy started but cut himself off as the ghost spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” they said, “I didn’t think- I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

Branzy blinked. No, he was supposed to apologise, not them.

“What?” he asked. “No, no, I provoked you. I’m sorry for that.”

“But you …cried,” the ghost said, “And you ran away and didn’t notice your keys falling out. And you came back later than you’ve ever come back before. I went too far and upset you. So I am sorry about that.”

“It’s… It’s not really okay, but it’s not your fault,” Branzy said after a few seconds of silence, “The main reason I got so upset was because I had a bad day overall and you really could not have known that. Besides, it’s my fault for intentionally ignoring you in the first place. It was obvious that you wanted a reaction and were willing to go far for it, but I kept ignoring you. I knew that something like this was bound to happen, but I didn’t do anything about it, so it’s really mostly my fault. And… Well, I’m sorry for ignoring you like that. That really wasn’t nice or even fair of me.”

He hadn’t even realised that he’d looked away until his head snapped towards the ghost when they let out a quiet, small gasp.

They looked genuinely taken aback at Branzy apologising. The rock in his stomach got heavier.

“That’s- I’m… I am unsure of how to respond- respondeth to- oh fuck it, I’m unsure of how to respond to that…” they said, “I didn’t expect… that. Or any of this, like you actually acknowledging me, really.”

Branzy chuckled nervously. “Yeah, uh, like I said, I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s… It’s fine, you’re talking to me now, so I’m happy,” the ghost said, smiling through the blood on their face, “I’d, uh, I’d prefer if you didn’t ignore me again, though, Snowhair.”

“I won’t,” Branzy said immediately, “I won’t ignore you.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Snowhair,” the ghost said, sounding vaguely threatening. Branzy’s expression must have given away his interpretation of their words as they laughed quietly. “Don’t worry, Snowhair, I won’t hurt you if you just stay true to your words.”

Branzy laughed nervously. “Yeah, I- I will,” he said, “By the way… Why do you call me ‘Snowhair’?”

“‘Cause your hair is white,” the ghost said seriously, moving a transparent, bloody hand towards Branzy’s curls and lightly flicking one, “It kind of looks like snow. And I don’t know your name. So ‘Snowhair’ it is.”

“Right,” Branzy said, “I haven’t introduced myself, have I?”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Well, uh, I’m Branzy, twenty-six years old,” he said. “And you?”

“What?” the ghost asked, staring into Branzy’s soul.

“What ‘what’?” Branzy asked back, very confused.

“You… actually know that?” the ghost asked, squinting at Branzy, who shrunk in on himself just a little.

“Uh, yeah,” he said slowly, still very confused as to where this was going. “Why?”

“So… Who am I?” the ghost asked, suddenly leaning closer, their wide, heterochromic eyes boring into Branzy’s soul, “What’s- what’s my name?”

“What?” he asked, taken aback, “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because you know names,” the ghost said, “You know your name and- and other people’s names, like- like that Chief guy you talked about a few times, so you know what my name is. Right?”

“I- do you think I, like, just know what every single person’s name is?” Branzy asked, laughing a little. His laugh stopped, though, when the ghost nodded, their expression completely serious.

“Oh… I- I don’t,” he said, “I only know Chief’s name because he told me. Do you not… know your name?”

The ghost shook their head. “Am- am I supposed to?”

Branzy nodded, feeling his mouth go dry. They didn’t know their own name.

“Oh…” the ghost mumbled, even more quietly than before, and stared down at their hands, “And- And you don’t know who I am, either?”

Branzy shook his head. “No, I don’t…” he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“But a person- people have names, right? And- and they know them,” the ghost continued, “Does that… does that mean I’m not a person?”

“What do you mean?” Branzy asked, “Why would it mean that?”

“Because I don’t know my name,” the ghost said, “People have names. What if I don’t have one?”

“That wouldn’t mean that you’re not a person,” Branzy answered, “Name or no name, you’re a person. I mean, what else would you be?”

The ghost opened their mouth before closing, opening and closing it again. It looked kind of funny. They opened their mouth again, speaking this time.

“I don’t know,” they said, “I don’t know what I am. I was hoping you’d know and tell me my name so I could be sure that I’m a person, but… That’s out of the window now, isn’t it…”  

“Well,” Branzy said quietly, moving a hand to the ghost’s hands before realising that they were intangible and laying them beside them, “Sorry… Well, I might not know your name, but I’m very sure of the fact that you’re a person.”

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Of course,” Branzy said, “You’re literally upset at the prospect of not being a person; I don’t think someone who’s not a person is capable of feeling that.”

The ghost didn’t respond, but the air around them got a little less cold. Branzy smiled a little.

“If it’d make you feel better, we could give you a name now,” he suggested.

“You can… do that?” the ghost asked, squinting back up at Branzy.

“Of course,” Branzy answered, smiling, “I mean, people normally are given names at birth, so what’s stopping us from doing it now?”

“Right…” the ghost mumbled before nodding decisively and speaking up, quickly leaning close to Branzy, “I want a person name. Give me a person name.”

Branzy laughed. “Alright,” he said, “Do you have any preferences?”

“Uh, I want a person name,” the ghost said, sounding like they had absolutely no idea what Branzy was asking, “I’d like to have a name a person would have, please.”

“Right, I got that,” Branzy said, giggling, “I mean, like, would you prefer a more feminine, masculine or androgynous connoted ‘person name’?”

The ghost blinked. “I’m not sure,” they said, “I just want a person name.”

“Well, uh, would- would you describe yourself as a guy or a girl or something else?” Branzy tried, “Like, do you want a girl-person name or a man-person name or a person name that’s neither of those?”

“I’m not a girl,” the ghost said, “I don’t think I’m a girl.”

“Alright, not a girl,” Branzy said, “A dude, then?”

“What’s a ‘dude’?” the not-a-girl-ghost asked, tilting their head to the side.

“A- a guy,” Branzy tried to explain, “A, uh, a fe-fellow?”

“Oh,” the ghost said, “I might be a ‘dude’, then. I’m not sure.”

“Okay, cool,” Branzy said, ignoring the ghost’s mildly confused expression, “Maybe a dude. So, do you want a more masculine name, then? Also, should I use he/him pronouns for you, then?”

The ghost blinked. “Okay,” they- he(?) said. “Can I have a name now? I want a name.”

Branzy laughed. “I- sure, alright,” he said and pulled out his phone, “Let’s see…”

He could practically feel the curiosity and slight suspicion radiating from the ghost as the screen lit up and Branzy tapped away at the screen, opening babynames.com.

He tapped ‘Unique Boy Names’ and laid the phone in front of the ghost, scrolling so that he could see the names.

“You can scroll through these,” he said, “If you like one of these, tell me. Okay?”

The ghost stared at the phone, frowning slightly. After a few seconds, he slowly moved his finger over the screen, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling and seeming very unimpressed.

After a little bit, they huffed and sat back.

"None of these fit?" Branzy asked and the ghost shook his head.

"There are too many," he responded, "And they're all so... I don't know."

"Yeah, there are a lot of names," Branzy murmured, taking back his phone, "But we're gonna need a name for you. Not like I can call you 'Ghost' or 'Clown'..."

The ghost gasped. "That!" he said, "That one. I want it."

"What?" Branzy asked, laughing confusedly, "Which do you want?"

"The, uh, the Clown one," the ghost said excitedly. "Can I have it? Please?"

"You... want to be called 'Clown'?" Branzy asked, just to make sure, because he really could not see why someone would want to be called- actually, he could see it. He was somewhat-friends with Parrot, who threatened everyone who used his real name, Rek, who mostly went by the shortened version of the inversion of his real name and Jesus, this ghost-guy would fit into his social circle.

"Can I?" the ghost - Clown - asked with the wonder of a small cat who just discovered that it can fit in a cup and Branzy couldn't help but laugh, unable to stop his cheeks from warming, "Please? I swear I will use it well."

"Uh, sure, you can be Clown," Branzy said, smiling, "I trust you will use it well. Whatever that means."

Clown nodded.

"Okay, I'm Clown, I'm a guy, I think," he said, "And... I think I'm at least one-and-twenty years old."

"One-and-twenty?" Branzy asked. He was sure it meant twenty-one, but he thought it sounded a little funny.

"I think," Clown said, completely misinterpreting Branzy's question, "I might be a little older, but I don't know. I don't... really remember or- or know anything about myself, but... I think I'm one-and-twenty or two-and-twenty or something along those lines."

"Right," Branzy said, feeling guilt gnaw at him at the ghost's insecurity over his lack of memory, "I was just a little confused because of the way you said the number. I'm more used 'twenty-one or twenty-two'."

"Oh," Clown said and crossed his arms, "Well, I think your way of saying it is wrong. I find it confusing that you call a parlour 'living room', but you don't see me squabbling on about that, do you?"

"Oh, uh, sorry," Branzy said, laughing awkwardly, "I didn't mean to be insulting. Just interesting how our language developed..."

"Yeah," Clown said, "Yeah, It is. And I know. I'm not that offended."

"That's- that's good," Branzy said and yawned.

The ghost cocked their head confusedly and Branzy held a hand over his mouth.

"Sorry, I'm just, uh, kinda tired," he explained, "Kind of a long day today, if you know what I mean."

"Sorry," Clown said, sounding genuinely apologetic, "And, uh, thank you for- for giving me a name. I'm looking forward to being a person."

Branzy smiled. "Yeah, it's no problem," he said, "But, uh... Can I ask a favour, Clown?"

Clown let out a small happy noise and inched a little closer. "Only if you beat me at Bezique," he said nefariously, though Branzy was almost pretty sure that he wasn't serious.

"Uh, well," Branzy stammered, "I'd appreciate it if, uh, if and when I go to sleep soon, hopefully, you could, uh, not do that thing where you keep me from sleeping like you did over the past month."

Clown's eyes widened and he wrang his hands again.

"Y-yeah," he said, "Sorry about that. I kind of... forgot that sleep was so essential and, well, I wanted a reaction."

"No worries," Branzy said and stood up, putting his phone in his trouser's right back pocket, "I'm gonna go get ready for bed now."

He walked to his bedroom, pausing by the door when he noticed Clown following him.

"I'm gonna change into sleepwear, so I'd rather you wait outside," he said and entered his room when Clown nodded and turned away.

Branzy closed the door and changed into a purple shirt and black, knee-long shorts. Then he plopped down onto his bed, dreading his upcoming task of brushing his teeth. He knew he had to and he didn't want to not do it; it was important hygiene, after all; but it was such an exhausting task that his ADHD brain really could not automate.

He stared at the ceiling which was full of glow-in-the-dark stars and cotton-ish clouds for what felt like hours but was probably just two to three minutes before standing up and picking up his dental care stuff, which he still kept in his room because of the terrible experiences of not being able to brush his teeth when someone was occupying the bathroom, he had made living with his family and later roommates. He let out a deep, exhausted sigh before finally leaving his room and going to the bathroom. On his way he noted that Clown was inspecting his laptop, which he had left on the living room table this morning after an impromptu study night that went on for much longer than Branzy would have liked.

"Don't you pull the 'you're-not-a-person'-card with me now, Mister," Branzy heard the ghost whisper-shout at it, "Snowhair classified me as a person, so you have no excuse for ignoring me! Listen, I've heard you talk to him!"

Branzy huffed, smiling fondly at the ghost. A part of him wondered what could be, had he not chosen to ignore Clown. The ghost was so nice to talk to so far and so fucking chaotic, how could Branzy not have immediately befriended Clown?

Oh well, it was far too late for that now.

He just watched Clown for a second more before entering the bathroom and brushing his teeth, which took him far too long.

Seriously, in elementary school, they were taught that they needed to brush their teeth for three minutes; one minute for each section and yet it took Branzy about ten minutes every single time. Man...

When he came back out of the bathroom, Clown had seemingly given up on interrogating the laptop, instead just laying on the floor.

"Clown?" Branzy asked, hearing some of his amusement dripping into his voice, and Clown stood up, turning to him.

"Snowhair," he said, "I thought you were going to sleep."

"I am," Branzy said, "Just brushed my teeth first. But, uh, what are you doing on the floor? That can't be comfortable..."

"Well, I mostly don't feel it," Clown said, "And it's less exhausting than being upright the entire time. Not like I have anything better to do than that while you sleep."

"Right," Branzy said. "You don't want to be in my room?"

"I thought you didn't want me there?" Clown responded, cocking his head slightly.

"Well, as long as you don't keep me from sleeping, I don't mind you being there," Branzy said, "Thought you might prefer that over being completely alone. If you don't want to, you don't have to, but my door is always open for you - metaphorically, that is -, okay?"

Clown nodded slowly and drifted a little closer, following Branzy to his room. Branzy kept the door slightly ajar and, before going to bed, decided to go to his desk, first. There, he pulled a small bag out of the drawer and then a smaller bag out of the bag. He held up the bag for Clown to see and placed it on his desk chair.

"There are some of my fidget toys in this bag," he said, "Incase you want something to keep you entertained while I sleep, you can use these; they're quiet."

Clown blinked and cocked their head. "Oo, you mean like the black eight-cube-cube?" Clown asked happily, clapping his hands, "Can I really play- I mean, ex-experiment with them?"

"Yep," Branzy said, smiling, then decided to add, "You can play with them all you want."

"I do not play ," Clown said seriously, staring at Branzy, "I will figure out how these strange, strange mechanisms work and I will find a way to gain world domination with them. I am not a child, Snowhair."

"Whatever you say, Clown," Branzy said, smiling fondly.

He was about to say something else, but ended up yawning and losing his train of thought. "I think I'm actually going to sleep now," he said then, getting into bed, " Goodnight, Clown."

As he got under the blanket and snuggled into bed, he felt the mattress shift under a new weight and looked up to see an a little less transparent clown curling up on the foot of his bed like a cat. He could see him snuggling one of his mood octopi and switching it between angry purple and happy orange, seemingly at random. It was oddly cute.

"Good night, Snowhair," Clown said happily, seeming distracted by the mood octopus, which was very understandable, to be honest.

Branzy almost didn't want to fall asleep and instead keep watching Clown, but his exhaustion won out in the end and he ended up falling asleep.

And, for the first time since Halloween 202X, Branzy experienced an easy, uninterrupted, refreshing sleep.

That was until in the darkest hour of the night, when all of a sudden, Branzy was pulled out of his fuzzy calm wonderland by a jolt of pure coldness running through his body starting from his calf, causing a scream to leave his mouth and pierce through the beautiful silence.

Chapter Text

Branzy was startled awake by his own scream and shot up, sitting and looking around for what was wrong. Why had he woken up? Because of his scream because- because there was an icy sensation in his left calf. The sensation was gone now, but Branzy looked there anyway. Sitting close to Branzy’s leg was a very startled looking Clown. He looked a little like he had been laying down but similarly to Branzy snapped up from the jumpscare.

“Clown?” Branzy asked groggily, “What…? Huh?”

Clown looked him directly in the eyes before looking away, his eyes darting around the room. “Sorry…” he mumbled quietly.

“It’s… What happened?” Branzy asked quietly, moving a little closer in an attempt to be comforting. It seemed to be both working and making it worse as the icy air around Clown warmed a tiny bit and the ghost’s eyes snapped to him, so Branzy stilled his movements, allowing the ghost some space.

“I… I didn’t mean to wake you,” Clown mumbled, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Branzy said, smiling reassuringly, “I’m not- I’m not mad, Clown. Could you, uh, tell me what happened, though?”

“I, uh… You were sleeping and you looked so warm and comfortable and I was cold and I kinda wanted to…” Clown stammered, trailing off before speaking again, “I didn’t realise I’d startle and wake you, so- so I did. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”

Branzy blinked. His brain was still foggy, both from the sleep and the panic, so it took him a while to comprehend what Clown had said. He was cold? And… wanted to cuddle? Something in Branzy’s chest sank at that. The ghost was mostly intangible, so it’d make sense that there was an unfulfilled need for physical touch and warmth, but the implication hurt. When was the last time the ghost had been hugged? What cruel being could make a ghost feel their own eternal coldness?

“It-It’s fine, Clown,” Branzy said, “You didn’t mean to. And you didn’t hurt me or anything, I was just startled.”

Clown blinked slightly before nodding. Branzy noticed how the ghost’s arms wrapped around his body, hugging himself in what Branzy thought was an attempt of comforting himself. It made something in Branzy ache.

He needed the ghost to feel warmth; to be held in comforting arms.

So, Branzy held out a hand for the ghost to take. “If you still want to,” he offered, “you- you can.”

“But won’t it make you all uncomfortable?” Clown asked, inching closer and looking like he really, really wanted to take Branzy’s hand - and offer.

“It’s okay, I’m expecting the cold this time,” Branzy said, “I’ll be fine.”

“Can I?” Clown asked, his hand close to Branzy’s now, hesitating, “Can I really?”

Branzy nodded, smiling and not moving his hand. If this was going to happen, it was going to happen at Clown’s pace. He could hear the ghost’s breath hitch, which- Did ghosts need to breathe? 

The trembling, transparent and cold hand slowly moved closer and touched Branzy’s hand. A spark moved through Branzy and - seemingly - Clown as well, seeing as he immediately retracted his hand and stared at it.

“Bad?” Branzy asked, wincing sympathetically, but Clown shook his head.

“I… I don’t-” he said, stumbling over his words before stopping and starting anew, “Can… Can I try again? Please?”

Branzy chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “you can.”

Once again, Clown moved his hand close to Branzy’s, stopping close to it. He let out a few quiet breaths before extending his index finger against Branzy’s hand. The ghost clearly flinched at the touch, but he didn’t move away. Branzy had to admit he had a similar reaction, but not nearly as much as he feared he would.

One finger turned into the entire hand wrapping around Branzy’s and Clown inching even closer to Branzy and hugging the hand to himself. He was still extremely cold, but a little warmer than even before.

“You’re warm,” he said, looking at Branzy with wide eyes and Branzy couldn’t stop a giant smile from spreading over his face.

“I’m glad,” he said and yawned. “Do you wanna keep that while I sleep? Cause I’m really tired.”

Clown nodded before pausing. “Can- Can I touch your arm, too?” he asked and Branzy nodded, laying back down.

This time, Clown laid down with him snuggling Branzy’s hand and lower arm to his lower chin and chest, though those areas seemed to be less tangible than his hands. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… something Branzy wasn’t used to.

But he could make do. If it’d help the ghost, Branzy was fine with it. Besides, it wasn’t that uncomfortable, especially seeing that Clown seemed to warm up a little when he was comfortable.

Branzy smiled and moved his thumbs over Clown’s hands, which were definitely less cold than a few minutes ago. If he listened real closely, Branzy could hear Clown’s soft, content breathing, which almost sounded like a cat’s purr.

It was calming. So calming, in fact, that it lulled Branzy back into his warm sleep, though it was this time accompanied by a gentle cold.

When Branzy woke up again, his hand was no longer held hostage by the ghost, who was now completely intangible and barely visible. Instead it was surrounded by a small coldness.

Huh. Well, that was something.

Branzy had to leave for uni. Seriously, he had to. But the ghost in his house did not seem to understand nor like that, seeing as he kept trying to block the way and kept Branzy from leaving.

“Clown,” Branzy tried for the fifth time, “Please, I seriously need to leave, buddy.”

“No.”

“No, I do need to go,” Branzy said, “I need to go to uni, I’ll be back before you even know it.”

“But I don’t wanna be alone,” Clown said, still holding Branzy’s keys hostage, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Branzy sighed and stepped a little closer to Clown. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave,” he said, “I don’t even have work today, so I’ll come back as soon as school is over.”

“But I don’t want you to leave,” Clown repeated, as though it would change anything, “Please, I don’t want to be alone again.”

Branzy’s heart sank a little at that. He didn’t want to leave Clown.

“I’m sorry, Clown,” he said, “We can set up something to keep you entertained while I’m gone, but I really need to go to university. We can even hold hands after.”

Clown obviously didn’t seem to be very happy with the idea, but sighed quietly and nodded regardless. For the remainder of the time Branzy spent there, Clown seemed resigned. Branzy felt guilty for leaving Clown like that, but he couldn’t just stay home.

So he put on The Owl House on his TV, put the fidget toys he didn’t take to school on the living room table and set up a hot water bottle for Clown before leaving for uni.

He would have taken Clown with him, but now that he and Clown could interact, he wasn’t sure that it was a good idea to take Clown to uni without any preparations and a long talk about what he could and could not do.

Unsurprisingly, he was running late, though by some magic he was only fifteen minutes late to his first class - Communications - which, coincidentally, he shared with Rek and Chief, who were completely different majors. But those fifteen minutes were still long enough for Rek to thoroughly judge him.

“Why were you late?” Rek asked him as they walked to their next class after the first block, all throughout which Branzy had been filled with the guilt of leaving Clown alone, “Like, an entire fifteen minutes?”

“Overslept a little and forgot my bag,” Branzy lied, “So I got a little delayed.”

Chief stared at him with an expression that said ‘Bitch, do you seriously expect me to believe that?????’ and Rek with one that said the same thing except without the ‘Bitch’ part.

“Seriously,” Branzy insisted, “Like, I packed everything, then forgot it in the corner by the door after I put on my jacket and I only realised I didn’t have it when I was already halfway to the trainstation.”

His friends still looked unconvinced, but apparently the details allowed him some space to breathe.

“‘Kay,” Rek said, shrugging, “A little weird that you got so defensive for no reason, but whatever.”

“Dude,” Branzy said, “You both literally looked at me like you thought I’m trying to get you into a trap or prank you, what was I meant to do?”

“That’s a fair point,” Chief said, “Alright then, we forgive you. Let’s get to Maths.”

Branzy nodded and walked after Chief, not before seeing Rek give him another suspicious ‘I’m watching you’ look. It made Branzy a little nervous, but he knew his story was plausible. It was most definitely something that would happen to him.

The three went to Maths together and suffered through the class together.

Luckily, Communications and Maths were Branzy’s only classes on Fridays, so as soon as that class was over, he packed up and walked to the train station. Even more luckily, Chief and Rek both had classes right after Maths, so they couldn’t question his unusual hurriedness.

The train station wasn’t too far from Branzy’s university, so it only took him seven minutes to get there. Well, to the lobby of the train station, anyways.

Branzy knew he should just speedily go to his platform as fast as possible, but on his way to the underground that connected the different platforms, something caught his eye.

That something was a clown Hello Kitty plushie. Maybe Clown would like that? It seemed like something Clown might like… If it was, then maybe it’d make Clown feel a little better.

Branzy stopped short, looking down at his watch. He had four minutes until his train would leave. That was about a minute longer than it would take him to walk to the platform. 

…If he was really, really…. really quick, he could make it in time.

It’d be insanely risky and the next train he could take would be twenty minutes later on a different platform. Really, it was a dumb idea, but…

Branzy rapidly turned around and walked into the store with big, big steps, picked up the plushie he had seen and a Hello Kitty themed box of chocolate milk and went to the counter, where only an older person was paying. They left just in time for him to put both items on the counter. The clerk seemed to notice that he was in a hurry and quickly scanned them, not attempting any smalltalk, which Branzy was very grateful for. Said it was fifteen dollars and Branzy handed them a five and a ten dollar note, picking up his newly bought things before putting them in his bag while speed walking out and to the underground bit. 

A little less than three minutes left.

Branzy didn’t quite run, but he was fairly close; moving his legs in big, fast movements and getting closer and closer to the stairs that led up to the platform. 

He could already see the train there. The doors were still open.

His legs moved faster than he felt they ever had before (although that was most likely not true) up and up and up the stairs and he almost stumbled and almost crashed into the backdoor of the train. He had made it. He was on the train and he had the plushie. See? Branzy’s ideas were always good and, frankly, he should always be allowed to do whatever he wants.

Once he more or less got his breathing under control, he sat down on one of the seats closest to the door and the train started moving.

The fifteen minutes on the train Branzy mostly spent listening to music and thinking as little as he could, all while he leant against the wall next to him.

When he finally, finally got to his apartment, Clown was nowhere to be found, which was… odd , considering he couldn’t leave Branzy’s apartment.

“Clown?” Branzy called out as he put down his bag after he had closed the door, but he got no response, which was… maybe odd. Figuring that Clown was just focussed on his show (who could blame him?), Branzy walked to the living room, only to find it lacking a very bloody, very clowny ghost. The show seemed to have been abandoned for quite a bit, seeing as it was paused on the grom episode. The bag of fidget toys was exactly where it had been earlier that day and the hot water bottle was cold and laying on the couch, also unmoved.

“Clown?” he asked again, looking around the room before walking to the door to look in the other rooms, “Clown, where are you?”

Still not having gotten a response, he walked through the entire flat, looking for any trace of the ghost, but there was no drop in temperature or flickering air anywhere.

For a second, he considered if maybe he had just imagined the entire ghost ordeal, but he scrapped that thought pretty quickly. He knew 100% sure that Clown was real.

He went from his kitchen to his bedroom and rifled through his accessory drawer for the old locket. He fished it out and walked back to the living room, where he sat on the couch, looking down at the object in his hand.

“Clown?” he asked again, looking up. “I’m sorry for leaving you for so long; I know that must’ve been horrible for you, but… but I’m back now, yeah?”

He thought for a second more as he placed down the locket on the glass table.

“I even got you a little something,” he continued, smiling slightly, “Because I felt bad for leaving you here. Let me just go get it.”

Branzy quickly stood up and got his bag, already taking out the things he had gotten for Clown earlier on his way back to the living room. Once he was back on the couch, he placed them on the table and took the locket back in his hands.

“So, uh, I saw this and, uh, I thought you’d like it,” he said, picking up the plushie, “It kind of fits your whole clown thing.”

Branzy eyes darted from the plushie back to the locket as he gently brushed a thumb over it. When that didn’t get any noticeable reaction, he put the plushie back down and briefly held the choco milk carton. 

“I’m- I wasn’t sure whether or not you could drink things, but I thought you might like this,” he continued and placed the box back on the table.

Another minute passed with no input from Clown. This was seriously starting to get worrying.

“Clown?” he asked again, “Can- If you’re there, could you please… do anything to show that? I’m, uh, I’m kind of worried.”

…

Branzy sighed quietly when there was still no response.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I’m- I’m sorry, really.”

He carefully pushed the bag of fidget toys further away from the edge of the table and closer to the other two objects.

“I, uh- I’m not going to pressure you into talking to me,” Branzy continued, “You- you take these, alright? And- and if you want to talk or- or just coexist in silence or anything, I’ll be in my bedroom and you just… you just come out when you’re comfortable, yeah?”

Branzy inhaled deeply, stood up and walked out, picking up his bag in the process. Just as he left the room he - once again - mumbled an apology.

“I’m sorry…”

Then, quietly, almost as if it was a figment of Branzy’s imagination, a quiet unintelligible mumble echoed through the room.

But Branzy didn’t turn back and instead continued to walk to his room. If Clown wanted to talk he would come at his own pace.

Still, it stung a little, that Clown was now ignoring(?) him for having to go to school after they had been - and just gotten - on good terms earlier. Nevertheless, he could fully understand that Clown was reacting like that. After all, the ghost had been in a completely unfamiliar situation and deliberately ignored by the one person that could interact with him; then suddenly witnessed said person have a breakdown and break out of his normal behavioural patterns; then suddenly was on a way more friendly basis with him and then cuddled and THEN suddenly the person leaves again for uni, which Branzy wasn’t even completely sure was a concept that Clown really understood.

They really needed a talk about all of that.

Not really knowing what else to do at this point, Branzy sat down at his desk, pulled out his laptop and started brainstorming for his upcoming tech-y project. It was hard, honestly, because he had oh so many ideas, but none of them felt truly feasible; Branzy felt like they were too unrealistic; too far-fetched for him to do.

After about five minutes, he realised his document was still very much empty, so he switched to the essay he was supposed to write for Communication. That was something he could easily do, at least, without having to consider how realistic his ideas were or how expensive the resources would be or how ethical it would be and all those stupid things.

He wasn’t sure for how long he had been writing for, but by the time he had finished his essay, his back and eyes were hurting and the sun was starting to go down, so he decided to go to the kitchen and get something to eat and drink.

So he stood up and cracked his back, which was a mixture of relief and pain, and walked to the kitchen. On his way there, he encountered a floating clown Hello Kitty plushie floating around the space between the living room table and the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen.

He couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. At least Clown seemed to like the plushie.

Branzy walked past the kitchen counter, took a reusable plastic cup from one of the cabinets and filled it with tap water. He brought the cup to his lips, sipping the water as he thought on what he should eat. Instant noodles sounded good, but that would be the fourth day in a row he had them. Then again, he wasn’t sure he could really come up with anything better right now. Then again then again, he really didn’t feel like eating those same bland noodles again . What he felt like eating… was chicken nuggies. It wasn’t really the most practical and frankly not very cheap, either, but… Branzy needed to eat food that actually tasted good. And! With the new cheap delivery service - Wentparrot, Branzy thought - Branzy could probably get that for way less money. After all, the service’s slogan was ‘For cheap, we’ll bring you a heap - at immense speed’. That had to mean something, right?

Branzy had been meaning to try out that ‘Wentparrot’ service since he had discovered it a month or so back and now it was the perfect time.

So he quickly opened the app he had installed the moment he had seen it. For some reason, the app icon was just a low-res image of his sometimes-classmate Parrot’s face. How odd.

Anyhow, having already impulsively given Wentparrot all of his information weeks ago, Branzy just tapped the food he wanted and ordered it with the speediest delivery option, which - for some reason - was also the cheapest.

Then, when he put his phone down, he was startled by the face of Clown right in front of him.

“Ah!” he exclaimed in surprise before taking a few deep and calming breaths and speaking again. “Clown!” he said, “You scared me…”

“And you left me alone for hours,” Clown said, sounding not exactly friendly, “But you don’t see me complaining about that, do you?”

“What?” Branzy asked, surprised by Clown’s sudden hostility.

“You promised,” Clown said, “You promised you wouldn’t ignore me.”

“And I didn’t,” Branzy said, “Look, I’m sorry for leaving, but I had to go to school.”

“But you did. You ignored that I didn’t want to be alone and in the void again and left .”

Branzy opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Clown continued. “And you said that I could be a person,” he said, not even looking at Branzy anymore, instead looking down at the Hello Kitty plush in his hands, “But you lied. Because you left and then I was in the void and then I wasn’t a person anymore. I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

“The… void?” Branzy asked carefully.

“The void,” Clown said, “It’s eternal darkness and emptiness and it’s cold . And you just left me.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, Clown,” Branzy said, feeling his nails digging into his hands, “I’m sorry for leaving, but I had to.”

“I- I know,” Clown said, all hostility suddenly gone, “I know, but I’m just. I’m angry. And it’s so much.”

Branzy swallowed, feeling the guilt in his stomach get heavier.

“And you’re going to leave again, I know,” Clown continued, “And I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to be alone again.”

“I’m sorry,” Branzy whispered, “I’m sorry, Clown.”

“I- You shouldn’t be,” Clown mumbled, squeezing the plush, “I’m- sorry.”

“Well, uh, it’s Friday, so I won’t be going to school the next two days,” Branzy said, “If that’s any good.”

“So you’ll stay here the entire time?” Clown asked, finally looking at Branzy again.

“Well… Maybe not the entire time,” Branzy said and Clown’s expression dropped. “But! But if we talk about rules for outside, I could take you with me?”

“Really?” Clown asked hopefully and Branzy’s heart melted.

“Yeah, but we really, really, really need to put up some rules first,” Branzy said, raising his index finger and gesturing with it, “Because honestly, I do not think it’s a good idea to have people finding out about you.”

Clown nodded. “Yes, okay,” he said, “I will follow the rules and you’ll never leave again.”

Branzy chuckled. “Something along those lines, sure,” he said. “Well, do you want to set the rules now?”

Clown nodded and looked at Branzy expectantly.

“Well, first things first,” Branzy said, picking up Clown’s locket and moving it around in his hand, “You’re going to need to keep things like going through people and moving things - especially carrying things - to an absolute minimum.”

Clown nodded and Branzy continued. “Then, uh, yeah, if I’m around people I won’t be able to directly answer you or acknowledge your existence. That’s not because I want to ignore you, but because people will think I’m insane if I’m talking to you.”

“So no devious things and no expecting answers,” Clown repeated. “Got it.”

“Oh and-” Branzy tried but was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. “Wait a sec, my food’s here.”

He stood up and speedwalked to the door answering the intercom.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Wentparrot food delivery,” a crackly, very unmotivated-sounding voice said through the intercom.

“I’m coming down, wait a sec,” Branzy said and stopped the intercom while slipping on his purple slippery-slipper-slip-ons. Then he opened the door and scadoodled down the stairs, unaware that he was still holding Clown’s locket and therefore dragging the ghost with him.

Then, down six floors, he opened up the front door to see- Parrot with his pegasus car?!

“Parrot?” Branzy asked perplexedly.

“Branzy,” Parrot said, nodding and shoving a box toward Branzy, “Here’s your food.”

Branzy accepted the box, blinking confusedly. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re, uh, you’re a delivery driver?”

“Yeah,” Parrot said nonchalantly, “I mean, I own the service, but it’s whatever, I guess.”

“You own a freaking delivery service?!” Branzy asked, righteously shocked.

“I mean, yeah,” Parrot said, rolling his eyes, “The app icon is literally my face.”

“Right, yeah…” Branzy said, about to turn around and go back inside before realising something. “Wait. Is that how you knew where I live?!”

Parrot opened and closed his mouth several times and gestured with his hands. 

“Oh would you look at the time,” he said then and pointed at the object in Branzy’s hand. “Is that my tip? Oh how nice of you, I gotta fly-”

“What?” Branzy asked and looked down to his hands, his eyes widening as he realised he was holding Clown’s locket. “Nope, no, I- that’s not your tip, I was just holding that when you rang the bell.”

“Ugh, booooring,” Parrot said again and a gasp from behind Branzy almost made him jump in surprise.

“Boring?!” Clown asked, sounding very offended but still quiet, “How dare you Mister Colours?! My locket is not boring! GRRRRRR!”

It was incredibly hard for Branzy to not react in an immensely obvious way, but he managed to just press his lips together in a slightly amused manner. Welp, there was another rule-idea.

“Rude,” he said once he recovered, “‘sides, I already tipped you on the app.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Parrot said, “Oh well, I seriously gotta fly now, though, it is already so past my bedtime.”

“Your… Bedtime?” Branzy asked and Clown snorted.

“My bedtime, yes,” Parrot said. “What about it?”

“You… literally flought me home way later than that yesterday?”

“Yeah and I was out because you people keep ordering food so late!” Parrot complained, “Seriously! First Mapicc yesterday and now you ! What is wrong with you guys?!”

“Why’s he so mad?” Clown asked, “Isn’t he choosing to do this?”

Clown was right, but Branzy raised his hands defensively. “Yeesh, sorry!” he said, “Maybe you should put it in the app so that people can’t order after your bedtime.”

“Well, yeah, maybe I should do that!” Parrot huffed, “In any case, I’ll be leaving now. Have fun with your idiot suspiscious amulet-locket or whatever that thing is.”

“HEY!”

“Still rude,” Branzy said, as Parrot jump-rolled into his car, “Well, bye then!”
“Bye loser!” Parrot shouted as he took off and disappeared in the sky.

“I’m just-” Branzy said before sighing, “Welp, let’s just go back upstairs…”

Then he just turned around, walked past the ghost behind him, which - admittedly - did jumpscare him a little, and up the stairs.

Upstairs in the flat, he waited for Clown to get inside before closing the door and walking to the living room, where he placed down the food-box and the locket on the table.

“Another rule, Clown,” Branzy announced and continued just when Clown looked at him, “When I’m talking to someone or even just being talked to by someone, please don’t distract me.” He put his hands together and walked to the bathroom with Clown. “Unless there’s an emergency or it’s really important, or something, then it’s okay, but other than that don’t do that,” he said, “I can only blame that on my ADHD so many times. You can talk to me in front of other people, just try to limit that a little bit. And once again, note that I can’t respond to you in any obvious ways.”

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” Clown said nodding and Branzy smiled before washing his hands. 

“Oh, also, what’s an ‘Ay-Dee-Heigh-Dee’?”

Oh gosh, this was going to be a long evening.

Chapter Text

So, apparently, explaining ADHD to a ghost was a lot harder than Branzy expected. Which was weird, since Branzy already expected it to be hard as fuck. Apparently, though, the cultural gap between whenever Clown had been alive (neither of them knew with how little Clown remembered) and now wasn’t small enough for Branzy to explain neurotypes and all that stuff without having to explain something new every few words.

Another thing that made it harder was Clown refusing to believe Branzy was serious because he was of the opinion that quote ‘it’s normal and like that for everyone, I’m not un-afternoonified’ unquote.

So, yeah, it was needless to say that it took them a few hours to get through all that and when Clown finally somewhat understood what ‘an Ay-Dee-Heigh-Dee’ was, it was a little before midnight.

So when Branzy was finishing up answering a few of Clown’s questions, he couldn’t suppress a yawn, causing the ghost to startle up.

“You’re tired,” the ghost said, sounding almost panicked, “You need to sleep.”

“What?” Branzy asked, chuckling. “No, I can still stay up a little.”

“No- No!” Clown objected, “You did the yawning thing, so you need to sleep!”

“Clown- Clown,” Branzy said, “I don’t-”

But cold hands materialised against his lower arms and grabbed them as the more transparent face of Clown came closer to Branzy’s face.

“Snowhair,” Clown said almost threateningly, “Yesterday you did that- the thing and you had to sleep, you can’t lie to me. Sleep. Now.”

Branzy chuckled once more, sliding his arms out of Clown’s hands and took them in his instead.

“Clown, I don’t need to sleep immediately,” he explained, “It’s the weekend and I’m not even that tired, so I can stay up for a while longer.”

Clown was looking at Branzy biting at his frowning lips as if trying to gauge how truthful Branzy was being.

“Seriously,” Branzy said, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

The ghost still didn’t seem convinced, but leaned away. “...Fine,” he said, “But you better not be lying, otherwise I’ll be sure to make you sleep forever.”

“Uh, what?” Branzy asked, but Clown just shrugged.

“You heard me,” he said, letting go of Branzy’s hands.

“I- uh, I did,” Branzy coughed out, a little nervous now. Sure, he had somewhat befriended this ghost, but he didn’t know him anywhere near good enough to know exactly how serious he was.

Clown just smiled. “So… What now?” he asked, cocking his head to the side in a way that almost made him look like a confused kitty, which was honestly just a wonderful comparison.

“Well, uh, I don’t know,” Branzy said. “Is there anything you’d like to do?”

The ghost stared at him, blinking. “Okay, so you might not be aware of this,” he started, “but I’ve only just become a person and I’m actually not very knowledgable on people things, so I honestly do not know what there is to do. Not that you’d be able to tell, of course.”

Branzy snorted. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a point; that was stupid to ask,” he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Do you wanna try drinking your choco milk?”

“Ooo, yes, yes,” Clown said excitedly. “How do I do that?”

Branzy chuckled as he picked up the choco milk box and showed it to Clown. “So basically, you wanna take out that white straw by pushing it down and then you put it in that pre-made hole there and drink your drink through the straw,” he explained, pointing to the things as he mentioned them. “Got it?”

“I think so,” Clown murmured, squinting at the object in Branzy’s hand, “So free the straw of its containment, stab the box and then I get the, uh, the brown?.. gold?”

“Please don’t call it that,” Branzy said, “Just- don’t. But, uh, yeah, pretty much.”

“You do realise that you telling me not to makes me want to continue calling it that even more, right?” Clown deadpanned and Branzy sighed deeply, feeling despair run through his veins.

“Do you just run on spite?” he asked, looking at the ghost with an expression, to which the ghost only responded with devious chuckles.

Branzy wordlessly watched as Clown took the box from his hands and inspected it, floating a little more than before. He seemed a little confused, but Branzy didn’t feel the need to interfere at all. It was kind of entertaining to watch the clown try to figure out how to get the straw out of the plastic thing.

Clown tried for a solid thirty seconds or so before seemingly getting fed up and just opening the plastic with his rather pointy teeth.

“Blblblblblblblbl,” the ghost said, once he got it open, trying to rid his tongue of the little piece of plastic he had ripped off, seeming very uncomfortable with it, and failing so miserably that Branzy took the pity upon himself and jumped back in. 

“Can’t you go intangible?” he asked and the ghost shook his head. 

“I did,” he said uncomfortably, his pronunciation a little off because of the plastic on his tongue, “Didn’t work.”

“With the drink in your hand?” Branzy asked.

“No, no, just the head,” Clown said, “But it didn’t work.”

“What do you mean it didn’t work?” Branzy asked, feeling his kind of sciencey side take over as he put ‘partial tangibility’ in his mental list of things Clown could apparently do which needed to be discussed, “Like, you couldn’t go intangible or you went intangible and it still stayed?”

“Second,” Clown answered and Branzy took a few seconds to realise that that was the answer and not Clown asking for a second. He felt a little stupid, but that was irrelevant.

“Alright, that’s good to know,” Branzy said, continuing when he realised he got a little off-track with his scientific approach, “Uh, just, uh, get it out with your finger, I guess.”

“Bu’ my finger tastes like blood,” Clown complained, pouting as he held his right index finger into Branzy’s face. It was pretty bloody.

“Just-” Branzy sighed, “Just do it and get it over with. You’ll have your choco milk right after, anyways.”

“No,” Clown said, crossing his arms as best as he could with the box still in his hand, and stuck out his tongue, “Bleh. Don’t want outside blood in my mouth.”

Outside blood? Huh? What did he- Holy fucking shit, there was blood in Clown’s mouth. A lot of it.

“What the fuck,” Branzy whispered and Clown just continued to make ‘bleh’-like sounds and pouting, “Please just- just do it. It’ll only be a second or so and then you can have your choco milk.”

“Noooope,” Clown said, shaking his head, “I do not want outside blood in my mouth.”

Branzy sighed and almost recoiled even just at the thought of what he was about to suggest.

“Do you want me to get it out for you?” he asked, silently praying that Clown would just come to his senses, say no and just just get it out himself.

But alas, the universe - as always - was against him and Clown nodded, sticking out his tongue, at the tip of which was a piece of plastic. Branzy knew whatever grimace he must’ve made while getting that persistent piece of plastic off would have done perfectly at a Heathers audition for Veronica Sawyer with how uncomfortable he was. He definitely got some phantom blood and saliva on his fingers and it felt so weird and disgusting but at the same time it wasn’t there at all and it was just so weird.

He felt a little better, though, at the happy expression from the ghost after he was finally freed from the plastic. Still, he was careful not to touch anything with his index finger and thumb he had used because he did not want whatever that was on his couch or anywhere, for that matter.

As he struggled to ignore the uncomfortable feeling on his fingers, he watched Clown full-on stab the straw into the box, spilling a few drops before drinking the choco milk through the straw. His concentrated expression melted into one of pleasant surprise and Branzy couldn’t keep himself from smiling softly. 

“I take it you like it?” he asked, still smiling, and the ghost nodded happily.

“Yep!” he exclaimed around the straw, “It’s very good!”

“I’m glad,” Branzy said, feeling his smile widen. He just loved how happy the ghost was just from chocolate milk. It honestly felt great to share one of the greatest things about life like that, even if he had to sacrifice his fingers’ wellbeing for that. Speaking of which.

“I have got to say, though,” Clown mumbled after a bit, “I’m still rather surprised you did that.”

“What, save you from the plastic?” Branzy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Clown answered, “I was going to just remove it myself after a bit, but it was nice of you to do it for me.”

…

Of course. He should have expected that the ghost was just being insanely dramatic. Then again, the ghost had been genuinely upset just a little before that and Branzy really hadn’t been trying to bring him back to that emotional state.

Seeing Branzy’s expression drop, the ghost frowned and parted from his chocolate milk for the first time since he had taken his first sip.

“It- it did make me uncomfortable, so you really did help, if that makes it any better…” he said quietly, “Sorry.”

“No uh- it’s okay,” Branzy said before he could even realise what he was saying. “It- I definitely did not enjoy that, but I’m not mad at you or anything. Just… Yeah, I’m glad it helped, I guess.”

“...How sure would you say you are about that on a scoliosis from one to ten?” Clown asked after a few seconds.

“A… Scoliosis?” Branzy asked, very taken aback and amused at Clown’s miswording.

“That’s what you say, isn’t it?” Clown asked, “A scoliosis from one to ten of how much something is true? I’ve heard you use that phrase before.”

“It’s- Buddy, it’s ‘scale’ not ‘scoliosis’,” Branzy said, trying (and failing) to stop himself from laughing. “How- How’d you mix those up?”

As Branzy laughed, Clown’s expression went dangerously blank. Branzy’s laughter immediately faltered as he got worried he had somehow hurt the ghost’s feelings.

“I’m- Are you okay?” Branzy asked “Did I go too far? I’m sorry if I upset you.”

The ghost was silent for a few more seconds before he blinked and suddenly his expression changed into something more alive (was it okay to call it that when Clown wasn’t alive?). “No, no, you didn’t,” he said, “I was just trying to figure out how I mixed them up.”

“Oh,” Branzy said and sighed with relief. “Have you come to a conclusion yet?”

“Not really,” Clown said, taking a sip from his choco milk, “My running theory is that I heard or saw the word ‘scoliosis’, perhaps even while I heard or saw ‘scale’ and mixed them up because of that. I don’t remember anything like that, though, I think. My memories are a little blurry, so I’m not entirely sure.”
“Oh,” Branzy said, “In any case, I am one-hundred percent sure that I am not mad at you.”

“That’s good,” Clown said and quietly added, “I don’t want to make you mad at me…”

Branzy smiled and brushed his hand over Clown’s. “Now, how about you finish your choco milk and we continue watching The Owl House together and maybe cuddle?”

Clown nodded and went back to drinking his chocolate milk as Branzy took the remote and unpaused the episode that had been playing when he came home before carefully moving an arm around-through Clown to wrap it around his swiftly materialising shoulders. He noted that Clown’s coldness wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it had been the night before or even earlier at their little confrontation. It felt… softer and… warmer, in a sense. Not as bone-chillingly cold, but… Branzy wanted to say warm, but that contradicted the clear coldness. It was weird, but good in a way.

He must have fallen asleep at some point after, because when he woke up again, they were halfway through season two, his stomach was achingly empty and Clown was partially laying on top of him and partially laying through him. It was a weird sensation, but not necessarily bad. After a few seconds of blinking through the sleepy fog, Branzy’s stomach growled and he belatedly realised that through explaining what ADHD was, getting Clown to let him stay awake, teaching him how to drink choco milk and cuddling he had completely forgotten about his food.

He knew he really needed to eat now, but with Clown partially physically on top of him, he wasn’t sure he could get up without waking him. Wait. Waking? Did ghosts sleep? Because from Clown’s confusion about sleep yester- 2:43 AM - the day before yesterday, it seemed like they didn’t. Then again, when they cuddled that same day, the ghost did seem sleepy and when Branzy woke up yesterday, it looked like he was sleeping. So maybe ghosts could sleep?

While Branzy was going through the ethics of disturbing and potentially waking up Clown, said ghost rose up from his cuddling position, causing Branzy to blink back into reality.

“...Why are you making these noises?” Clown asked, “Are you angry?”

“What?” Branzy asked, his voice hoarse and cracking from the sleepiness.

“You started making angry noises when you woke up,” Clown said, “You went all ‘grrrr’ and such… Why are you angry? Did I do something again?”

“Again?” Branzy asked before shaking his head. “No, I’m not angry at all,” he said, “I think what you heard was my stomach… growling. That’s a hungry thing. I forgot to eat my food earlier.”

“Oh, you mean the stuff angry Mister Colours brought you earlier?” Clown asked, cocking his head to the side, and Branzy nodded. “Huh. I was wondering why you just left your din-din on the table when you seemed so excited for it.”

“Oh,” Branzy said dumbly, sitting up slowly, trying to give Clown enough time to move out of his way, “Like I said, I pretty much just forgot. You can be pretty distracting, you know?”

“Well, I pride myself in being an expert in the arts of dramatics and distraction,” Clown said deviously, “After all, how can one be at all truly devious without any expertise in those fields.”

“Yeah,” Branzy mumbled, blinking hard, “I’m gonna eat now.”

Not really waiting for an answer, Branzy took the box from the table and opened it, to be greeted by the scent of cold meat and fries. He knew it wasn’t going to taste nearly as good as it would have, had he eaten it immediately, but he couldn’t be assed to microwave it to better it a little. 

Actually- Yes, he could.

Branzy stood up clumsily, feeling the blanket he hadn’t even noticed was on him slide to the ground. He squatted down to the floor and pushed it back up to the couch before walking to the kitchen area. He felt eyes on him as he put the food box in the microwave and turned it on, so he turned back to where Clown was sitting on the back lean of the couch like a cat, watching him intently.

“I’m microwaving my food so it tastes better,” Branzy explained, probably barely loud enough for the ghost to hear him properly, and Clown nodded slowly, undoubtedly storing the information until he could misuse it later because he didn’t completely understand it with the right context. Branzy could already imagine Clown telling him to microwave his fresh food because he thought it was a general thing you had to do, always . As hilarious as that would be, Branzy didn’t want to leave any room for misunderstandings right now. “Because it’s cold,” he added, “And this type of food is better when it’s warm.”

“Oh,” Clown said, nodding, “Okay. I like warm things better, too.”

Branzy smiled, Clown smiled and Branzy ripped his gaze from the ghost to glance at the food in the microwave.

“You’re warm,” he could barely hear Clown say and Branzy was about to say something but then suddenly the microwave pinged and the warm light disappeared, so he just took out the box, instead, and walked back to the couch, where he plopped down on a spot next to where the ghost slid down.

Out of the corner of his eye, Branzy could see Clown inching closer to him as he was eating, so he just moved his left arm in a way that allowed Clown to lean against it more comfortably, which the ghost did, after a few seconds of hesitation.

Branzy and Clown sat there in silence while Branzy ate his chicken nuggies and fries until Clown broke the silence.

“Did it work?” he mumbled and Branzy tiredly turned to look at him questioningly. “The magic-waving thing, I mean. Is it good?”

Branzy smiled. “It did,” he said and took a fry to hold it out to Clown. “Do you wanna try one?”

The ghost moved an arm through the space between Branzy’s arm and upper body to gingerly take the fry and moved it to his mouth. A small, approving, hum came from him as he bit off a bit of the fry. He looked sleepy, Branzy thought and, for some reason, he wanted to hold the ghost in his arms forever so the ghost could safely sleep.

“It’s good,” Clown mumbled, “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Branzy asked and Clown nodded. “I’m glad.”

For the remainder of the meal, Branzy occasionally handed a few fries to Clown, who ate them quietly. It was completely silent, save for the quiet sounds of the two eating and the occasional sigh, until the box was empty. 

Once that happened, Branzy put the box on the table and sat more straightly. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and change,” he murmured, “After that we can go cuddle in my bed again.”

Clown nodded and intangibly moved away to allow Branzy to move freely.

Branzy changed first so Clown could wait in his room while he brushed his teeth (also because that was his routine, already…). When he came back into his room, he found Clown sitting on his bed, clutching the Hello Kitty plush in his arms as he stared right at the door and then Branzy, who clicked off the lights and moved under the sheets, prompting Clown to do the same and cuddle against Branzy.

Branzy closed his eyes and moved his arms around Clown, holding the ghost close. It kind of hit him, then, how weird this situation was really. He had befriended (hopefully) a ghost that had been haunting him for a while now and the first day they talked immediately invited him to lay in his bed and now, for the second time was full on cuddling with him. It was weird. But Branzy didn’t hate it.

The next time he woke up it was to his 10 AM alarm blaring from his phone on his desk. A little annoyedly, Branzy sat up, slid out of the bed and walked over to the desk to turn off the alarm. As he pressed the ‘stop’ button, grumbling about how much he hated the alarm, he noted that Clown wasn’t in the room with him. Not when he woke up, not as he stood up and not now. A little odd, but not all that weird.

First things first, Branzy unlocked his phone and checked his notifications. There were a lot of messages from Rek, Chief and his groupchat, which mostly consisted of Chief and Rek making jokes about him being late and quote unquote ‘mysterious and edgy’. Branzy mostly ignored them in favour of double-checking five times that he really was going to meet up with them at 3pm by the train station near Rek’s place to go get ice cream. After he assured himself that they actually, truly were meeting when and where he thought, he went on his PT-PL app and checked when he needed to leave. He knew that he’d need to leave at 2:40 to get his train at 2:53 and arrive at exactly 3pm - nothing changed in the transportation plans, but what if - for some reason - the Plainlands public transport system suddenly completely changed the schedules for literally no reason at all?! …It was an unreasonable thought, but Branzy couldn’t help it sometimes. But hey! You couldn’t judge him, after all, Rek was way worse regarding that type of stuff.

Anyhow, once Branzy cleared all of his doubts, he shut off his phone and used the lack of ghost clowns in the room to change into his day clothes: a purple-black tie-dye hoodie (that would be partially covered by a black demin jacket that was full of pins and patches, later), dark gray-slash-black cargo trousers and white socks that reached over half of his shin.

Then, after changing, Branzy took his phone, put it in his hoodie pocket and left his room, both to look for Clown and eat something.

He ended up finding Clown, crouching on the kitchen island and holding a knife defensively, his gaze pointedly fixed on a dark spot on the floor by the glass table and looking ready to pounce at it. In reaction to that, Branzy stopped in the doorway, blinking slowly. A second look at the dark spot revealed that it was a teeny, tiny spider, barely bigger than Branzy’s thumb nail.

“Clown, buddy,” Branzy said amusedly. “Are you good there?”

Clown didn’t glance away from the spider for even a millisecond, as though it was a serious threat. “There is a demon, more devious than I could ever dare to be,” he said, sounding as though he was in a trance, “I know I must defeat it, but I cannot bring myself to move into a three meter radius of it. It must be its secret power.”

Branzy snorted. He didn’t think he’d ever get over how dramatic Clown was about the smallest of things. He almost made it sound like- “You’re scared of spiders?” Branzy asked, “Aren’t they unable to touch you?”

“I am not scared of spiders nor that demon,” Clown said blankly, “Its presence is merely highly unwanted and discomforting to me; after all, who would enjoy being in the presence of such a grim creature of the underworld?”

Ah, so he was scared of spiders. That was… Unexpected. Branzy didn’t particularly like spiders, either, but he wouldn’t necessarily say he was scared of them. In a genuine way, unlike Clown, who obviously was overplaying his fear.

“Do you want me to get rid of it?” Branzy asked, stifling his laughter as he stepped a little closer to Clown and - consequently - the evil demon spider, causing the ghost to grimace uncomfortably.

“How can you step that close to that- that demonic creature?” he asked horrifiedly.

Branzy smiled, raised an eyebrow and stepped one step closer to the spider, causing Clown to shriek.

“Aa! What is wrong with you?!” Clown shouted, eyes darting towards Branzy for the first time, only for just a second, but the spider was gone. “Now it’s gone, snowhair, look what you have done!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Branzy huffed, “Don’t worry, I see it. I take it you want me to get rid of it for you?”

“Yes!” Clown said, “Of course! You are clearly unaffected by its powers, so just- just remove it, okay?”

“Of course,” Branzy said, smiling as he walked over to where the spider was crawling up the TV. He simply caught it with his hands and giggled at how its legs tickled his hands. He allowed a little gap to take a look at it and cooed. It was actually kind of cute. “Nawe, aren’t you just a sweet little guy? I can’t imagine how Clown could be scared of you… I’ll name you… Sir Spider.”

The spider didn’t seem to like that very much as, as soon as he finished his sentence, it literally broke the laws of physics and jumped out of the closed window, which was about five meters away and, well, closed.

“Awe man…” Branzy said disappointedly before shrugging. “Welp, I’ll see you later, Sir Spider!”

“Branzy!” Clown gasped out, sounding insanely offended and/or scandalised by Branzy’s words and actions, “How dare you fraternise with the enemy?! I thought you were better than that… I… I trusted you…”

Branzy giggled slightly. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in a surrendering manner, “I’d never betray your trust.”

“You literally just did, though,” Clown said, frowning.

“The spider is gone now, though,” Branzy said as if that had been his plan all along, smiling. “See?”

“You called it cute,” Clown said, his frown deepening, “But it isn’t. It’s an evil demon and not in the good way like me.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re jealous to me,” Branzy said, smirking a little as he watched the ghost splutter a little.

“I am not jealous ,” Clown hissed, “I am simply advicing you for both our goods to not fall for the demon creature’s evil schemes.”

Yeah, definitely jealous. Branzy couldn’t help but grin at that.

“Don’t worry, Clown, you’re way cuter than the spider,” he said teasingly, “There is no need for you to be jealous, I would never replace you with a spider .”

“I’m not jealous!” Clown insisted, “I am not jealous and I am not cute . I’m a menacing, devious person. Not cute.”

“Alright, alright, not jealous nor cute,” Branzy said, giving in, “The spider has nothing on you.”

“I know,” Clown said, rolling his eyes, “Of course it doesn’t. I’m way better than the demon creature.”

“Of course,” Branzy agreed, nodding as he went to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. No matter how cute the spider may have been, he did not want to eat a spidery breakfast. After washing his hands, Branzy opened the fridge, took out a carton of milk and poured some into a bowl, before opening a box of cereal and pouring some in, making intense eye contact with the ghost as he did so. The ghost, however, did not react to Branzy’s ‘unreasonably cruel and disgusting crime against humanity’ as Rek called it. He just watched, completely unbothered and with the same amount of interest he had every time Branzy did something new in front of him.

“This,” Branzy said, his voice shifting to a mischievous tone, “is cereal. And this-“ he gestured to his bowl which showed the way he prepared it. “Is the only socially acceptable and correct way to prepare it.”

Clown nodded slowly. “Why?” he asked curiously before his eyes widened. “Oh, will one be cursed after doing it differently?”

Branzy nodded. “More or less,” he said. “Anyhow, I give you full permission to subtly spook anyone who you see pour the cereal before the milk. Especially-“ he showed Clown the group photo Rek, Chief and him had taken for their group chat, zoomed in on his friends. “If they look like that.”

Clown nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Oh, I get it. It’s to revert the curse, right?”

Branzy blinked. “You know what?” he asked. “Sure. That’s exactly how it works.”

“Alright, I’ll spook anyone who dares to try that demonic ritual,” Clown said, nodding to himself, and Branzy couldn’t help but smile at that. Maybe this was a bit unethical, but no one could deny how funny it was. That’s what all those people would get for judging him for preparing his cereal ‘the wrong way’. THAT’S WHAT THEY’D GET!

…Anyhow… Branzy took his bowl and a spoon and walked over to the couch, sitting down to eat. Clown floated after him, though he stopped to pick up his Hello Kitty plushie, which had been laying on the floor by the kitchen island as though the ghost had dropped it when the spider spooked him. His lips moved as he cuddled the plushie to his chest and Branzy could vaguely hear a whispered apology. It was insanely cute, yet it tore his heart apart, hearing the ghost apologise to a plushie for dropping it out of panic.

As Branzy started eating, Clown sat down next to him and watched him intently, causing him to almost choke. Perhaps he should tell the ghost that it was an uncomfortable thing to do, but he didn’t have the heart for it. The ghost had such a shitty afterlife so far and was in a completely unfamiliar environment, so if watching Branzy eat made him happy, Branzy wasn’t about to tell him to stop. So he just continued eating his cereal while going over his plans once more. 

He’d leave his apartment at 2:40 PM, ghost in tow, so he’d probably get his things and the locket and put on his shoes and jacket ten to five minutes before that. Then at around 2:53 the train would come and hopefully get him to Rek’s train station by 3 PM, where he would meet up with Rek and Chief and go to the ice cream shop and get yummy yum yum ice cream. Maybe he would get it in a cup or just get a spoon to give Clown the chance to try ice cream? But wait- wouldn’t the spoon be floating, then? Branzy felt that that would definitely be too obvious. 

“Hey Clown?” Branzy asked and the ghost hummed in response. “Would you mind going invisible in a sec? I want to test something.”

“…What do you want to test that requires me to be invisible?” Clown asked slowly, sounding a little confused, and Branzy stood up. 

“Hold on a sec,” he said, “I’ll get a spoon real quick.”

He then did exactly that. When he came back with the spoon, he sat back down and answered Clown’s question. 

“So. I want you to take this spoon and go fully invisible and try some cereal,” Branzy said, “Because I want to see if the spoon will go invisible, too, and if it does, if you can still use it to interact with the physical plane.”

Clown nodded slowly, taking the spoon in his hand and taking a few deep breaths. “Promise you won’t- you won’t forget me?” he asked quietly and Branzy nodded. 

“As if I could ever forget you,” he said, “I promise I won’t.”

“Alright,” Clown mumbled and disappeared, the spoon fading away with him. Then, a second later, there was movement in the milk in Branzy’s bowl and some cereal disappeared. Reflexively, Branzy rubbed at his eyes. It was such a weird sight, but also so fascinating in a way he couldn’t even comprehend. Then Clown reappeared, spoon in hand. 

“That is amazing,” Branzy said, grinning wildly, “That opens so many possibilities.”

Clown smiled in response, though he seemed a little confused, and put down the spoon.

“But, uh- huh?” Branzy asked suddenly, having realised something. Yesterday evening, when he had gone to the kitchen, Clown was fully invisible and yet he could fully see the Hello Kitty plush; it hadn’t even been a little transparent. “Yesterday I could see the plush when you were invisible… How- how does that work?”

“Oh,” Clown said, “I picked that up after I went invisible, so that might be it.”

Branzy winced. “How would that work when you’re visible to me but to no one else, then?” he asked and Clown shrugged. “I was going to subtly give you a spoon and let you try my ice cream and gaslight my friends if they say anything, but I guess that might be too risky.”

“Gaslight?” Clown asked, furrowing his eyebrows a little and completely skipping over the problem Branzy had just posed, “Is that a new language thing or are you saying you’ll set them on fire using gas?”

Branzy snorted, deciding to ignore it too, then. “Yeah, no, it’s a language thing,” he said, “Basically, making someone believe that what they- that their perception of reality is false, even though it isn’t.” He paused for a few seconds, letting Clown take it in. “It’s not really a good thing to do, more like the opposite, really, but with something as little as this, I don’t think it’s morally wrong.”

“Oh okay,” Clown said, nodding, “So doing bad things but little is okay… Like, if I murdered someone with a small knife instead of a big one, it would be fine, then, right?”

Branzy’s eyes widened and he coughed. “No? What- what makes you think that?” he asked, perplexed, “And why’d- why’d your mind went straight to murder?”

Clown’s face dropped. “You said gas-lighting is okay as long as it is with something little,” he said, “Which implies the rule that a bad thing on a smaller scale is okay. Why wouldn’t that apply to all bad things? I feel like your rules on what is good and bad are kind of arbitrary.”

“ What ?” Branzy asked, feeling the tiniest bit offended.

“Spooking people is bad, unless they cursed themselves; no one is supposed to know about me, but I can break the rules when someone makes cereal wrong,” Clown listed, “And gaslighting is really bad, but if you make someone think they’re going mad over something little instead of something big, it’s completely fine. What makes murder any different?”

“Murder- murder is bad,” Branzy said, “Like, really bad. It actually hurts people.”

“And making someone believe their perception of reality is warped more than the average individual’s doesn’t?” Clown asked, raising an eyebrow, and Branzy had to admit that he had a point. Still, he wouldn’t put making his friends think his ice was behaving normally on the same level as murder. 

“It does,” Branzy said slowly, “And I don’t condone gaslighting. But I doubt having my friends believe that I ate my ice or it melted instead of reaffirming that a piece just disappeared would harm them.” 

Clown nodded slowly. “Okay, I think I get it now,” he said. “When do we go away?”

“At 2:40-ish,” Branzy said and Clown nodded wisely. 

“I definitely know when that is,” he said, nodding, “And what that means. I am a very person.”

Branzy laughed. “You are,” he said, “That means we have about four hours left. If you want to, we could play something to pass the time?”

“Do you have cards?” Clown asked, “Can we play Vingt-et-un?”

“Vante-uh?” Branzy asked, definitely mispronouncing the name, causing Clown to laugh slightly, “What’s that?”

“C’mon Snowhair, as if you don’t know Vingt-et-un!” Clown said happily, “Wait a second, I think I might have a deck of cards on me, actually.”

The ghost then put his hands in a few pockets in his corset and poofy trousers Branzy hadn’t even realised were there. Then, finally, after finding nothing in the other pockets, Clown pulled out a dagger and a deck of cards out of a hidden pocket in his right boot. They looked… familiar. Branzy was sure he had seen them before, but where? And how?

“There we go!” he said, sliding back the dagger in his boot before opening the deck of cards. As he did so, Branzy got a quick glance of the dagger. The blade was from silver-coloured metal with a faint purple-ish glow around it. He could see a few carvings on the blade, all surrounding a bigger one, though Branzy couldn’t read any of them quickly enough. The handle was a maroon-coloured material that vaguely looked like wood, though it might have been something else entirely. The cross-guard, ferrule and pommel were all a purple-coloured metal, also full of carvings. Both the cross-guard and pommel held a red gemstone. He couldn’t really see the one on the cross-guard long enough to tell, but the one on the pommel had a peculiar symbol carved in. It almost looked like a heart, but there was a horizontal stroke where the strokes would form an acute angle, crescent-shaped line through the top half and two slightly tilted crosses inside of the heart. He had seen this symbol before, he was sure of it. 

When the dagger left his sight, Branzy looked at the deck of cards. It was contained by a purply-maroon metal box with the same symbol carved into it, though the lines were painted black, white, orange and blue. It, too, seemed awfully familiar. 

Clown then opened the box to reveal the back of a deck of cards. It seemed to be hand painted with red, black and white vertical stripes in the background and the ‘shape’, which Branzy now recognised as a jester’s mask, fully painted above it. The heart itself was fully white, seeming to be the facial mask (explaining the horizontal line), the crescent shape black horns and head covering and the crosses, likely posing as eyes, orange and blue. Suddenly a memory sparked in Branzy’s head. He vividly remembered looking at a card like this in that antique shop he had bought the locket in, that time he had bought it. They were all in the same collection called ‘The Antique Jester’. They were sold at that antique shop for not too much money because their true origin and authenticity couldn’t be confirmed, but if Clown had them… Holy shit. Branzy should have bought them. 

“Do you like them?” Clown’s excited voice caused him to blink back into reality and see that the cards had been spread over the table for him to see. “I made them myself.”

“You made those yourself?!” Branzy asked loudly. “Holy shit, these are so well made, though! How’d you do that?”

Clown blinked. “I don’t remember,” he said quietly and pointed to the symbol, “But that’s me and I made them.”

“Right, should have figured,” Branzy mumbled before speaking up again, “But seriously, these look good. Good job, Clown!”

Clown grinned happily and shuffled through the cards until he found the card he was looking for and held it up. “Look, this is my favourite card!” he said, excitedly showing Branzy the Ace of Hearts, which was white with an ‘A’ and four sharp hearts painted on in pristine black and red paint. It was a little different from the one he had seen in the shop, Branzy realised, because unlike the items in the shop, Clown’s had no signs of ageing, but looked like they must have looked like when Clown was alive. 

“Looks great!” Branzy commented, “But, uh, I don’t think I can touch them.”

Clown’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t you be able to touch them?” he asked. “I can touch your stuff, so shouldn’t you be able to touch my stuff, too?”

Branzy moved his hand to one of the cards and found that, while he could feel its presence, he couldn’t move it or really touch it. 

“Maybe you’re part of- of both… realms?” Branzy suggested. “Yeah, that. And I’m just, you know, alive. I don’t really know the logistics, but that’s my running theory.”

“Huh…” Clown said, “That’s sad. Anyways, you can see them, right? So I can just draw your cards for you .”

“Right,” Branzy said, nodding. “Now, how does that, uh, Vante- that game you mentioned work?”

Clown looked at Branzy judgmentally before shrugging. “I don’t really know how to explain it,” he said. “Besides, doesn’t your great, super amazing Internet know?”

“Are you seriously still upset that I oobly-gooblied what ‘afternoonified’ means after you ‘jokingly’ refused to tell me yesterday?” Branzy asked a little exasperatedly. 

“Yes,” Clown said without batting an eye, “You could have just asked me, but noooo , The Internet is just sooooo much better than me.”

“I literally did ask you,” Branzy said, “Twice. But you just giggled about it.”

“Psh, you should have asked better,” Clown huffed, “I would have told you the third time, if you didn’t consult your stupid beloved Internet.”

Branzy sighed. “I’m sorry for using Oobly Goobly to try and figure out what you were saying in an attempt to understand you better,” he said, “You know I don’t like Oobly Goobly better than you , an actual person, right?”

“Hmpf,” Clown said- like, actually said out loud -, looking a tiny bit genuinely upset as he hugged his plushie, which had previously lain on the couch, close to his chest in crossed arms. “It’s obvious you do, so you can go ask it to tell you.”

“Clown,” Branzy said and moved his hand on- no, through Clown’s. “I don’t like the internet better than you, okay? I just didn’t think you would tell me if I asked a third time and I genuinely wanted to know what you were saying. If- if you want to teach me your game, I’ll listen, okay? I want to know more about the things you like.”

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get this upset,” Clown mumbled, voice low all of a sudden, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright,” Branzy murmured, wishing he could comfort the ghost better, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about?” Clown asked, eyes diverted. “I just got upset for no reason again. I know your Internet thing isn’t a person you could replace me with and I know that you still need it, but it… I- I’m- I’m not scared, I just don’t like the thought of you going to the internet for stuff I can do, I guess.”

Oh… Clown was afraid of being replaced. 

…

“Could you make your hand tangible for a bit, Clown?” Branzy asked and suddenly, the cold that went through his hand pushed up his hand as it got a little less cold. Branzy immediately held the hand in his own, moving his other hand to it, as well, resulting in Clown’s breath hitching. “I’m sorry Clown,” Branzy said, then, completely genuine about his words, “I’d never replace you with anyone or anything. And… if you want to tell or teach me anything, tell me , okay? Because I’ll let you. You can teach me your game. You can explain things to me.”

“I-“ Clown said, then cut himself off, but Branzy just waited patiently for him to continue. “I want to teach you Vingt-et-un, but… I don’t know how to play it- Don’t get me wrong, I do know how to play it, I used to do it so much! And intuitively I still know, but the moment I try to formulate it into words, I can’t. It’s like I forget everything I know about it. Which- is a lot, because it’s my thing . So… you can oo-oobly-goobly it, I don’t mind.”

“I- I’m so sorry, Clown, I can’t even begin to imagine how upsetting that must be,” Branzy murmured, hands still on Clown’s. “Are you sure you want me to oobly-goobly it?”

Clown nodded. “Yeah, I want to play it, so you’re going to need to know how to play it,” he said and nodded once more, with more confidence, this time, “So oobly-goobly it. Now.”

Branzy chuckled and pulled out his phone. “Aaalright,” he said. “How do you spell it?”

“V-I-N-G-T-dash-E-T-dash-U-N,” Clown said, leaning over Branzy’s screen to watch him type it. “I like the little sound the little letters make. Pop-pop-pop.”

“Me too,” Branzy said as he pressed ‘search’. “Oh, blackjack! I know that one!”

“Blackjack?” Clown asked, sounding a little confused.

“It’s- I guess it’s the name we use for your game nowadays,” Branzy said, “Good news: I already know how to play that one.”

Clown grinned excitedly and started shuffling the cards in preparation for their little party.

Almost two hours, several games of blackjack (which Clown for some unknown reason kept winning (even when Branzy tried to cheat)) and even more random conversations later, the two decided to pack up the cards and use the remaining one hour and twenty minutes to make instant ramen (though Clown mostly just watched), eat it together (more like Branzy ate it and Clown tried a bit) and just talk. 

Then, when the clock hit 2:35, Branzy got up to finish getting ready. He took his denim jacket from the clothing rack and slipped both that and his shoes on, before going to his room, snagging Clown’s locket and putting it in the inner pocket of his jacket. 

Then, he was ready. 

“Alright Clown,” he said, about to open the apartment door. “Are you ready?”

Clown didn’t respond, so Branzy fully turned to him, only to see him staring at… his pins? Specifically the pride pins on the right side of his jacket. Oh Gods. He had completely forgotten that those types of things weren’t nearly as accepted whenever Clown must have been alive as they were now.

“Clown?” Branzy asked a little nervously and Clown shortly looked up at his face before looking back at the pins, seeming entranced. “You- you like my pins?”

“…I don’t know,” Clown said, “I mean they look nice, I guess, but I’m confused why you have those stripey things everywhere. Like- those specific colours in that order. You- you have a few of those really colourful things and a banner with those blueish-whiteish-greenish colours in your room. I can’t help but feel like there is something more to that than you liking those colours.”

Branzy swallowed, now insanely nervous, and scratched his neck slightly. “Well, uh, both of those signify that I am gay. Well, the blue-green one is more specifically gay, but yeah-,” he said, rambling out of nervousness, but Clown’s confused expression barely changed. The only thing that did change was how much his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Branzy, I mean no offence, but why on earth would you need colours to show that you are gay ?” Clown asked, now looking directly into Branzy’s eyes. “Anyone can see that you are a generally gay person.”

Branzy choked on air. What? Had he just misheard the ghost or did the ghost just call him obviously gay?!

“ Hwhat? ” Branzy asked, perplexed, and Clown raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Clown asked. “Of course people will know how gay you are when you’re acting like you do. Seriously, though, I don’t get why you would need coloured stripes to show that. That’s what your expressions are for. Do you wear other stripes when you’re not gay?”

“When I’m not-?” Branzy asked. “I’m- I’m never not gay. What do you mean expre- Wait a second.”

“Alright,” Clown said, “Waiting a second. Oooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnneeeeeee-“

“Okay, okay, uh-“ Branzy interrupted, “What, uh, what do you think ‘gay’ means?”

“Uh, happy?” Clown asked, looking at Branzy a little judgmentally, “What else would it mean?”

Branzy laughed. “Oh Gosh!” he said, “I- Clown, that’s- that’s not what ‘gay’ means anymore. I-I’m- it means that I like men.”

“Like in an Anitous way?” Clown asked, sounding worried, “Do- do people know those colours mean that? If so, why- why would you publicly display that? You- you really shouldn’t be wearing those, it’s dangerous!”

Branzy blinked. Anitous? What was that ? It- it didn’t matter. Clown obviously wasn’t opposed to Branzy being gay, which solved one of Branzy’s worries but also added another one. Clown obviously was from a time and place where being gay was forbidden and he was worried, if not panicking about Branzy being so open about it.

“Clown,” he said, “Clown, buddy, it’s fine. We- we’re not illegal anymore. It’s not punishable to be homosexual anymore.”

Clown blinked hard and Branzy was sure he could see slight tears in the ghost’s eyes. “What?” the ghost whispered and Branzy took his hands. 

“Clown,” he said, smiling softly, trying to be comforting, “Wearing those doesn’t put me in danger. Yes, there are some assholes, but this is an incredibly accepting town. I won’t be put in prison or- or killed over this.”

“That’s- We’re- we’re allowed?” Clown asked quietly and Branzy’s heart sank. Instantly, he saw a younger, alive version of Clown behind his eyes; a young queer person in a vaguely old-looking place, afraid to love who he loved out of fear of being killed for it. “Is- Please tell me you’re serious.”

“I’m completely serious, Clown,” Branzy said, “We’re allowed. Most people in this town are like us, actually.”

Clown looked like he was about to cry, but he seemed to remember something and blinked his tears away. “We- we still gotta go,” he said, reminding Branzy that they really needed to go if they wanted to catch their train. 

“Oh shit, you’re right,” he said, “Let’s go; We can talk more about this later, okay?”

Clown nodded and Branzy quickly opened the door and rushed down the stairs. The two practically ran to the train station (or, well, Branzy was running meanwhile Clown was dragged after him through the locket) and barely managed to catch the train. Once they boarded it, Branzy immediately took a seat on his usual seat close by the door and Clown- Clown immediately got distracted by the doors closing behind them. He seemed to catch himself almost immediately, though, and ‘sat’ down next to Branzy. Branzy didn’t know why exactly he did that, but he guessed it was because Clown falsely thought Branzy wouldn’t be fine with him exploring. 

“Are- are you sure it’s safe to be in here?” he asked quietly, “Should we really trust the metal demon to bring us to your friends? The other metal demons didn’t seem very nice. They growled at us.”

Branzy almost snorted, but instead nodded slightly with an amused smile on his face. 

“Alright, I suppose…” Clown mumbled, clearly not feeling very safe, and looked around. He seemed to forget about his worries pretty quickly, looking at all the differently presenting people in awe. He got hung up a bit on a teenager with blue braids, but eventually spotted a small, fluffy white dog on the floor in front of the elderly woman that was sitting on the seat parallel to theirs and Branzy really had to keep himself from smiling widely at Clown’s excitement. The dog was curled up against the woman’s legs and then opened its eyes, causing Clown to coo. It was a cute dog. Almost as if it heard him, the dog stood up and pulled at its leash. The elderly woman holding the leash looked down at it and then at him, though, had Branzy not known that only he could see the ghost, he definitely would have thought she was looking at Clown from the way her eyes were focussed, but he just chalked that up to her age. She raised her eyebrows as if she were surprised, before smiling and loosening the leash, allowing the dog to come closer to them. 

“Youse can pets him, boys,” she said kindly, her voice shaking a little. Branzy politely smiled at her before moving a hand to the dog's nose to let it catch his scent. He knew the dog would most likely not let him pet it - that was just his luck with animals -, but he’d have to try so Clown could have a try. And - like he expected - the dog immediately turned away from him in favour of moving to Clown’s hand and sniffed it, resulting in it sneezing, likely because of the coldness surrounding the ghost. Clown immediately flinched away. At that, the lady glanced back at them and chuckled. 

“Don’t youse worrys boys,” she said, “The pups does ‘at alls the time.”

She then looked back to her newspaper and Clown, reassured by the woman, started petting the dog, which let him do it, wagging its tail. It didn’t go anywhere near Branzy, though. He glanced up at the woman, but she was fully engrossed in the newspaper she was holding. Branzy still stayed in his lowered sitting position, just in case she looked, so it wouldn’t look weird. Over the entire ride to the next station, Clown positively cuddled the dog and Branzy couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at how easily the dog trusted a literal ghost over him. Just went to show how much animals hated him. But… it was extremely cute how happy Clown seemed at being perceived by another living being and how affectionate he was towards the dog. It was such a beautiful scene and Branzy was almost upset when the train stopped and the two needed to get out. Clown seemed a little disappointed, too, but he got over it pretty quickly and followed Branzy outside. As they left, he waved to the woman as though she could see him. 

“Bye-bye Ms. Dog-Lady!” he said right as they went through the door. Branzy smiled a little and waved goodbye to the lady through the window. He could barely see how she smiled outside before looking back at her newspaper as the train drove off, startling Clown, who was probably interpreting it as the ‘long metal demon’ threatening them. 

“It’s okay, Clown,” Branzy whispered, just loud enough for Clown to hear, “Let’s go over there to the entrance. Rek and Chief should be there.”

Clown nodded, though he didn’t seem very convinced that the train wasn’t evil, and followed him to the giant entrance across the hall. Just outside, Rek and Chief were waiting, Chief showing Rek something on his screen.

“Hey guys!” Branzy greeted loudly, the moment he was in their range of hearing, and both of them looked up at him. 

“Branzy!” Chief exclaimed, matching his exact energy, and hugged him for a solid few seconds. When Branzy was let go, he looked at Rek, who - oddly enough - hadn’t said anything so far. Rek hadn’t even moved from his original place and seemed to stare directly past Branzy. 

“Branzy,” he said when he noticed Branzy’s gaze on him (he was weird like that; being able to tell when who was looking at him). “Who’s that guy behind you?”

Chapter Text

“Branzy. Who’s that guy behind you?”

Branzy blinked hard and rapidly turned around to look behind him. The only person standing close enough behind him to prompt Rek to ask that was… Clown. But Clown was- Clown was a ghost, only Branzy could see him… right? Clown, in response, too, turned around, before looking back at Branzy with a slightly confused expression.

“...What?” Branzy asked semi-quietly, “What do you…?”

“The guy behind you,” Rek said. “You know, the one covered in blood whomst you’re directly looking at?”

What? Since when-? Huh?! Parrot couldn’t see Clown yesterday, so why could Rek now?

Clown, who was looking very confused now, pointed to himself, cocking his head questioningly and Branzy half-turned to Rek, who sighed.

“Do you see any other person covered in blood?” he asked rhethorically, before continuing more genuinely, “Who on earth are you?”

Clown tensed behind/next to Branzy and seemed to prepare to answer but, before he could, Chief butted in.

“Wait, are you a cosplayer?” he asked. “I love your cosplay, it looks very cool. And the blood is so realistic… I love it.”

“Uh- thank… you…?” Clown asked, eyes darting between Chief and Branzy, the latter of which shrugged, unsure of what was happening himself, “But, uh, what is a ‘cosplayer’?”

Branzy winced, a little scared that this might give them away, but Chief just laughed. “Oh, you’re in character, too! What’s your name?” Chief asked before turning to Branzy again, “Branzy, why didn’t you tell us you were bringing your cosplayer friend- or that you had one, in the first place?!”

“Uh- I’m, ah, I’m Clown…?” Clown said, sounding very unsure and glancing up and down, “Pierce. Clown Pierce. ClownPierce.”

“Huh, I never heard of that character…” Chief said, but shrugged, “Cool cosplay, though!”

Clown’s eyebrows furrowed and the ghost squinted up at Chief before looking down at his body. “Character…? And am I really that cold ?” he asked, frowning, but Chief just laughed.

“You’re hilarious!” he said, lightly hitting Clown’s shoulder and - surprisingly enough - not going through it before turning to Branzy, “Alright. He can come with us. But seriously, you need to tell us beforehand if you’re bringing someone!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Branzy said, wincing slightly. 

“It’s fine, I can pay for one more ice cream,” Chief said, patting his back, “Let’s just go now.”

“Right,” Branzy said before turning to Rek, who hadn’t said anything in this exchange and was now looking at Clown with an unreadable expression. “Everything okay?”

Rek took a few seconds to respond, but ended up nodding. “Yeah,” he murmured, “Yeah, everything’s fine. Let’s go.”

Branzy nodded and the four started walking along the tram line in the rough direction the oce cream shop was in.

“So… Clown, right?” Branzy heard Rek ask after a while and Clown turned to the man, nodding. “What do you do? Like job or studying wise.”

Branzy was about to panic, because he hadn’t talked to Clown at all about alibi-relevant things - mainly because he hadn’t thought they would need one because Clown wasn’t supposed to be visible -, and he couldn’t help Clown with this without seeming incredibly suspicious. Oh, they were done for. But-

“Uh, I work at a casino-circus combination,” Clown answered far too easily and Branzy realised that Clown would manage without any advice from Branzy; he was a theatre kid ghost, after all.

Rek nodded slowly. “So you believe in capitalism?” he asked and Branzy took back all he said. Was capitalism even a word when Clown was alive? Judging from Clown’s slow blinking not.

“...Is that another one of your strange religions like ‘The Internet’?” he asked completely seriously and all three of his companions snorted.

“Absolutely,” Chief said, laughing and Rek nodded slowly.

“You know what?” he asked. “You’re absolutely correct. Capitalism is a strange religion and so is the internet. Thank you for opening my eyes, ClownPierce.”

Clown blinked a few times. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Now would you please explain what a capitalism is?”

“Wait, you actually don’t know?” Rek asked, furrowing his eyes, and Clown shook his head.

“I’m not very well versed in religions,” he stated and Branzy tightly pressed a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud.

“Well, uh- It’s not actually a religion,” Rek said, “ Officially , that is. Anyhow, basically capitalism is a terrible economic and political system which is based on the rich profiting off the poor.”

“Oh, well, I don’t believe in capitalism, then,” Clown decided. “I mean, I cannot deny it is a real thing, so in that regard I do believe in it, but I prefer to scam the rich and entertain people.”

“...Good answer,” Rek said after a few seconds. “How do you go …whatever years without finding out what capitalism is? Especially when you have a solid opinion on it.”

Clown froze for a second and Branzy held his breath, waiting for his answer. “Well… You can have an opinion on something without knowing its name,” Clown said slowly after a second, “I mean, you can know that spiders are evil demonic creatures of the underworld without knowing that they are called ‘spiders’.”

“I guess that’s true,” Rek said, nodding before quietly adding, “Still kind of suspicious, though.”

Branzy was about to say something in Clown’s defence - he didn’t know what, but it was the thought that counted, right? - but they finally got to the street the ice cream shop was on. The four continued walking, Branzy, who was closely followed by Clown, in the back.

“What are you guys getting?” he asked, then. “I’m getting Watermelon.”

“We know,” Rek answered, “We all always get the same thing. Question is more what your ClownPierce is getting.”

“What are you guys getting?” Branzy asked again. How dare they not answer his very genuine-and-not-small-talky question!? Chief chuckled.

“I’m getting Chocolate and Rek’s getting Mint Choco Chip,” he answered before looking at Clown and asking, “What are you getting, Clown?”

Clown blinked slowly and Branzy realised that Clown likely didn’t know what ice cream was. That was a thing he probably should have explained beforehand, but it wasn’t like he had known that Clown would be visible to his friends, which brought up the question if Clown was visible to everyone or just his friends. Thinking about it, Branzy realised it would explain why the elderly woman in the train had looked like she was looking at Clown, rather than Branzy, and what Branzy had brushed off as an accent may have been the woman adding an ‘s’ to boys because she had been referring to both Branzy and Clown. Huh.

“How rich are you people?” Clown asked finally, sounding very confused, “You eat ice cream on a regular basis?”

“What?” Branzy, Chief and Rek all asked at the same time. Usually, Branzy would make a bad joke about them being soulmates here, but he was just too taken aback by Clown’s question. So apparently the ghost did know what ice cream was but thought it was some extremely fancy, rich people food. The implication that Clown had been alive in a world with ice cream without being able to eat it on a regular basis was incredibly sad and Branzy had to work harder than a single mother of nineteen-thousand children to keep himself from shedding a tear at that.

“Ice cream on a regular basis is a lot , even for the upper middle class,” Clown explained, “And you just… How do you afford to do that?”

“Ice cream is literally one dollar per scoop,” Rek said. “I get that it’s getting more expensive with inflation and all, but saying it’s a lot for upper middle class is a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

“Dollar-?” Clown asked, but Branzy interrupted him.

“Aaaaaanyways,” he said, diverting his friends’ attention. “What ice cream flavour would you like?”

“Uh-what do you think I should want?” Clown asked slowly and Branzy thought for a second. Before he could say anything, though, Rek answered suddenly.

“You seem like the type of person who would get Watermelon and Cookies in a cone,” he said, “You know, I actually feel like this has happened before- Maybe in a far away universe where everything is different.”

“Hm,” Clown said, “Maybe. I guess I’d like Watermelon and Cookies, then.”

“Alright,” Chief said then, pushing open the ice café’s door, and the crew walked inside.

There they were greeted by a catboy-demon-pride-flag-hawaiian-shirt-wearing-mf, who was standing on the counter. “Halli hallo, meine Amigos, wie geht’s, wie steht’s?” they asked in a very masculine, deep, not high at all voice. “Uh- ich meine- uh… Yello, how may I serve you today, valued clien- customers?”

That was weird. Normally, there was just some bored-looking Italian guy or his less bored-looking parents, not some… piney, if their name tag was anything to go off on. It also said ‘-the transgenderer- they/he+neos [F]ive [N]guys [A]in [F]rance’. How absolutely peculiar.

Anyhow, after Branzy was done being confused about jester, he walked a little closer, but didn’t say anything, instead letting Chief the payer order.

“Uh, one Mint Chocochip, one Chocolatte, one Watermelon and one Watermelon with Cookies, all in cones, please,” the man, the legend said to the barista.

“A’ight bet,” zapadoodle-noodle said and pulled ice creams out of sein hawaiian shirt, putting them on the metal ice cream holder on the counter, “That makes five genders, two pronouns and fourteen pine cones.”

“What?” Branzy asked and he could see confused expressions not too different from his own on his best friends’ faces. The only one who didn’t react at all confusedly was Clown, who probably had no idea that this was not at all normal. Actually- after a second he seemed confused, too, perhaps because of his companions’ reactions.

“I thought you paid with dollars,” he said innocently. “Is that wrong?”

“Oh,” pine said, wringing xyr hands, “Not here. I can give you a discount, just because you’re my favourite little goober. New price is Parker ‘Rekrap’ Marriott and [Redacted] ‘Clown’ ‘ClownPierce’ [Redacted]’s genders and fourteen pine cones.”

“Uh- my gender?” Rek asked, sounding very confused, “What do you-?”

“Listen, you(r minecraft skin and voice) and ClownPierce(‘s minecraft skin and voice) give me the hardest muffiny case of gender envy, I need your gender,” pine said, “And I also can’t push down the price of fourteen pine cones at all. So yeah, genders and pine cones, please.”

“Do we have pine cones?” Clown asked, turning his head towards Branzy and the other two. 

“I- no, of course we don’t,” Rek said, shaking his head and eyebrows furrowed. “Why would we just have pine cones?”

“Because you planned to get ice cream here and you pay with pine cones here,” Clown said confusedly before rummaging in his boot and pulling out a lot of pine cones, “Oh, I do have some! How didn’t I notice them before?”

“ What? ” Rek asked, voicing Branzy’s exact thoughts. 

“Why- why do you have pine cones, Clown?” Branzy asked and Clown shrugged. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said happily, “But now we can pay for the ice creams!”

He counted the pine cones and gave fourteen of them to the strange barista, who jumped in the air and clapped boos feet. Then ender gestured for both Rek and Clown to give ihm their hands. As the two did that, the hawaiian shirt wearer laughed evilly and suddenly trans and rainbow particles formed around the hands and went up the three’s arms. 

“Thank-you,” pine said happily, letting go of their hands, “You can have your ice creams now :o3.”

Branzy didn’t really remember leaving the ice cream shop because lords, what the fuck was that. He- he didn’t even truly understand what the fuck had happened there. 

Anyhow, after that whole fiasco, the four walked to the Plainlands River Park, eating their ice creams. It was pretty much on the other side of the district, so it took them a while to get there, especially with them stopping every few seconds because of their conversations. 

“Seriously, that was so lucky,” Chief said, laughing, “Imagine if you didn’t just have fourteen pine cones on you.”

“I always come prepared,” Clown said and bit off a piece of his ice cream, causing Branzy’s eye to twitch. He didn’t say anything, though, because he could see how Rek’s expression changed into the same weirdly uncomfortable expression it turned to whenever he witnessed Branzy making his cereal ‘wrongly’ and Branzy was not going to not support a little insanity. Meow meow meow.

“Also, I had half a stack of pine cones on me, not fourteen,” Clown continued, “Now I only have eighteen left, though.”

“Half a stack?” Rek asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at Clown, who cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, uh, two-and-thirty,” he explained. “Is that not a thing?”

“No?” Rek said, though it sounded a lot more like a question. Branzy understood that very well; having an easy belief challenged by someone acting out of the norm without acknowledging how abnormal they were being. Well, at least that was what he thought Rek’s unsure-sounding-ness meant. He could be wrong, though.

After a few seconds, Rek just blinked and cleared his throat. “Also, uh, why do you say numbers like that?” he asked, “Like, why did you say ‘two-and-thirty’?”

“Am I not allowed to?” Clown asked and Rek stopped short in his step.

“Well, I guess you can say it however you like,” he said slowly, “It’s a little odd is all.”

“Well, I think your way of saying numbers is odd,” Clown retorted, “‘Thirty-and-two’... That sounds strange .”

“Sorry,” Rek said, then, and continued walking to the, “Let’s just continue walking to the park.”

The group agreed and continued making their way to the park. Branzy couldn’t help but feel proud of Clown for defending himself in such an authentic, unsuspiscious way and gaslighting Branzy’s best friends. He would get the ghost some chocolate milk as a reward for that, later. Maybe he could try hot chocolate this time? He seemed to like normal choco milk, but hot chocolate was a lot higher on a tierlist. Besides, it was November, so it would be fitting. And the ghost seemed to dislike the cold and prefer warm things, so hot chocolate would be perfect for him and… Okay, yes, Branzy was completely sure he would get or make the ghost hot chocolate.

Branzy quickly decided to go to the grocery store on his way home to pick up the ingredients for hot chocolate and maybe pick up some fresh groceries while he was there. Yes, his priorities were in order. 

Anyhow, after a few minutes of walking and conversing quietly, the group arrived at the park. The park was pretty small in park sizes. Well- that sort of depended on one’s definition of a park. Obviously it wasn’t quite as huge as an amusement park or most closed parks, but Branzy thought it was pretty big in comparison to the average open park and/or playground. Generally, the park consisted of five-ish parts. There was the main playground and the soccer and/or basketball field, which were the most visited parts. Directly beside the main playground was a pretty large grass field, which was typically used by dog owners to play with their dogs or kids to play soccer. On the corner between the soccer-/basketball field and the playground was a hill with trees and bushes and behind the hill was a small playground for toddlers.

Because the group consisted of grown male men who were adults and the toddler playground was completely empty, the four decided to go to the toddler playground and sit on the roofs of the playhouses. 

By now, their ice creams were mostly almost completely eaten, so they began messing around. Technically, they had been messing around before that, too, of course, but now it was time to unleash the inner demons and play on the toddler play structures. Well, for Rek, Chief and Branzy, that is. Clown was busy breaking the laws of physics by sitting crisscross-applesauce on the pointy top of the roof without any indication of imbalance or realistic pressure and experimenting with his ice cream, which he seemed to have fallen in love with. 

The three non-laws-of-physics-breakers climbed across the small roofs, claiming sections as their own and trying to infiltrate and steal the others’. They seemed to have an unspoken agreement of leaving Clown out of this until he’d insert himself into the game, so they carefully balanced around the ice-cream-entranced clown. 

That was until about five minutes later, when Chief almost tripped over Clown’s physically unlawfully placed knee and jumpscared Clown so bad that Branzy was half-worried he’d accidentally go invisible or intangible and noclip through the roof. Clown just fell off the roof, though. Now, because he was on the backside of a different roof, Clown wasn’t in his field of vision and Branzy assumed the ghost just fell into the sand. But. 

“Jesus, Clown, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Chief asked, half-kneeling on the roof with an arm outstretched below the roof. It came up with a startled looking Clown who climbed up the playhouse. 

“I’m- Yeah, do not worry,” he said, but looked down at the floor mournfully. A second later he looked back up at Chief with an expression that may have looked neutral to a complete Clown newbie but looked a little teeny tiny bit dangerous to an amateur Clown-understander like Branzy. “You won’t be, though, when I murder you for what you did to my ice cream,” Clown added, confirming Branzy’s suspicions. Branzy then looked at Chief, who’s expression turned comically shocked-slash-terrified-ish before turning amused. 

“I almost thought you were serious for a second,” he said, chuckling. His chuckle died in his throat, though, when Clown’s expression didn’t change. “You’re- you’re not serious, right? Right ?”

A cute creepy smile spread across Clown’s bloody face. “That’s for me to know and you to find out the day I get my revenge,” he said sweetly, “Don’t worry about it, though.”

“I think I will, actually,” Chief said, eyes a little wider open than usual, but smiled either way. 

By then, Branzy had climbed his way to their roof and offered his hand to Rek, who declined it, likely because he thought Branzy would throw him off the roof, which he would have been completely right about. Shame.

Then, just as Rek made it on the roof, Chief said something very, very bad.

“I literally thought for a second you, like, disappeared there,” Chief said, laughing, “Like as if you went invisible for a second.”

Well, fuck. How were they going to fix that one? Only Chief saw it, so it would be possible to gaslight him, but Branzy hadn’t been in any position to have been able to see Clown and therefore couldn’t give him an alibi and he wasn’t sure the ghost could come up with an alibi for that . It also didn’t help that Rek - who already seemed suspicious of the ghost, for some reason - heard Chief’s comment. Oh, what to do?

“I did,” Clown deadpanned (was it still deadpanning if it was the truth and (probably) meant seriously?), and stood up fully on the roof, “I disappeared.” Branzy was worried Clown’s admission would be taken seriously and wished, wished that the ghost had just come up with an actual cover-up, but Chief just laughed.

“Okay, yeah, I get how weird that sounds,” Chief said, laughter still in his voice, “Sorry.”

“No, no, I did ‘go invisible for a second’,” Clown insisted, voice still monotone, though he was grinning, “Don’t worry about it.”

Chief hid his reddening face in his hands and groaned embarrassedly, though there was some humour in his voice as he spoke. “I get it!” he exclaimed through his hands, “That was dumb!”

Branzy blinked. He was confused about the fact that that worked . Though… Actually, now that he was thinking about it, whatever he had thought in his panic wouldn’t have worked. After all, one would find the person who was trying to find an excuse for or denying something extremely unlikely happening more than the person who jokingly went along with it. Now he was more impressed that Clown managed to come up with that ‘plan’ so quickly and spontaneously. Definitely deserving of hot chocolate.

Branzy faked a laugh- well, not faked it; he more so let the other’s think he was laughing at Chief being dumb rather than Clown’s gaslighting strat because he absolutely could not fake a real-sounding laugh. So, either way, Branzy laughed.

“Chief- Chiefy,” he gasped out in between laughs, “Why on Earth would you think Clown ‘went invisible’? We’re not in Minecraft.”

That made Rek laugh, too.

“Yeah, Chief! We’re not in Minecraft or any other fictional world of any kind,” Rek said, grinning and Chief groaned, pressing the balls of his thumbs harder against his eyes. “Or are we?” Rek continued suddenly, expression blank as he stared to a point slightly above and behind Branzy.

“Um- What?” Branzy asked very confusedly and turned to look at whatever it was Rek was looking at, but there was nothing of interest. “What do you mean, Rek?”

“Oh,” Rek said, lighthearted again, and looked at Branzy, “Nothing.”

Branzy looked between Rek and that spot a few times, eyebrows furrowed, before turning back to Rek and shrugged.

“If you say so,” he said slowly before turning to face Chief and Clown. “Anyways, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Chief said before looking at Clown questioningly and looking back at Branzy when Clown nodded, “Yeah, everything okay.”

“Alright. Then you won’t mind” Branzy said, squatting down, “If I do THIS?”

With that he jumped on Chief, who screamed like a dying squid, continuing their game. He wasn’t sure what Rek and Clown were doing as Chief tried to wrestle him off, but he was sure they were having a lot of fun. He didn’t really have time to focus on that, though, as he was busy asserting dominance to Chief by throwing him off the playhouse and into the sand. Well. Attempting to, at least, because apparently, throwing an adult man, who was very much fighting back, was not the easiest task. The fact that Branzy was on top of Chief and not the other way around also didn’t make it any easier.

Having given up on his previous plan, Branzy decided that his best bet was keeping Chief prisoner on the roof. While he was moving his leg to knock down Chief below him, though, he accidentally changed his center of gravity in Chief’s favour, allowing the blue haired man with pronouns to throw him off the roof. Oh how the turns had tabled… In a last attempt to save himself, he reached out for the nearest solid object, which just so happened to be Chief’s arm. Instead of stopping his fall, however, it caused Chief to lose his footing, too, and fall right above Branzy. Fuck. Kind of.

The moment Branzy hit the sand, he knew he needed to act fast. He tried to roll out of Chief’s landing area, but he only got halfway out of it before the weight of the much taller man crushed half of his body. At least Chief was suffering, too. Laughter bubbled out of Branzy’s chest for no particular reason and it was soon joined by Chief’s, who was starting to get up into a sitting position before he was suddenly shoved back down by Rek. 

“Surprise attack!” Rek yelled as he shoved him, a certain joy in his voice. The moment Chief was back to half-laying on Branzy, the oldest of them was crushed by another weight on top of Chief’s, forcing a choked sound past his lips. A similar choked sound from above him told Branzy that there was indeed something on top of Chief, which meant Rek had in fact sat or laid down on top of him. 

“Ha-ha!” Rek laughed, wrapping his arms around Chief and Branzy’s bodies until he reached the floor, “Now I have both of you captured! You will never get out of my-”

His laughter was silenced by another weight being added to their tower of bodies. 

“Clown?” Rek choked out, laughter still in his voice, “Why are you sitting on- on top of me, we were supposed to team up on them!”

They were cross-teaming?! Branzy was about to watchdog report them on Hypixel before realising that this was a win. Clown and Rek were teaming! Clown was socialising and Rek was getting over his suspicions!

“Oh, we are,” Clown said happily, shifting slightly, “I’m just helping you keep them down and protecting you from anyone sitting on top of you.”

“…By sitting on top of me?” Rek choked out once more. 

“Yep!” Clown confirmed, “No one can sit on top of you while I am sitting on top of you.”

Branzy laughed evilly. “Ha ha ha ha!” he said, voice slightly choked from the several people on top of him, “Now you’re trapped with us, too!”

Above him, Chief laughed, too, though his laugh was a little more joyful, causing Branzy to actually laugh, as well, both of which caused Rek to laugh, too. If Branzy really, really strained his ears, he could also hear Clown quietly laugh. 

Not too long later, all of them were laying on the floor laughing. Well, almost all of them; Clown had jumped off of Rek the moment he was rolling off and was now standing above the three, grinning and laughing quietly behind his fist.

Branzy loved this so much; his friends around him and getting along, laughing and enjoying themselves. It was almost nice enough to make Branzy forget about the pain that was still residing in his body from being completely crushed just now. Almost. 

A cough from Branzy interrupted his (and the others’) laughs and had him sitting up and doubling over. The cough was accented by the pain in his rib area spiking. 

“Jeez,” Branzy croaked out, “Why’d I have to be the crushée?”

Immediately his friends stood up and came to his side to see if he was okay. Despite the pain, Branzy couldn’t help but smile at that. He really loved his friends. 

Then another cough ripped through his throat and his pain spiked again. A hand was placed in between his shoulder blades, probably to comfort him. If it weren’t for the sharp ache and sudden stabs of pain, Branzy probably would have been more comforted by it, but he supposed there wouldn’t be a reason to comfort him then. 

“Deep breaths,” Chief told him, running his hand up and down Branzy’s back, and Branzy tried to follow his instructions. It was kind of painful, but Branzy managed. As he did so, his coughs started to slow down, allowing him to breathe even better. 

“I’m gonna check under your shirt now, okay?” Chief asked, moving his hands to the hem of Branzy’s hoodie, and Branzy nodded, prompting Chief to lift it up ever so slightly and look for signs of different injuries below it. His hand was warm as it ghosted over Branzy’s ribs and checked the bones.

After a few minutes of Chief gently prodding at different spots and asking questions about the pain level, Branzy’s hoodie was finally put down again. 

“Okay, so,” Chief said, sounding a little guilty, “It’s… very probably not broken, but it’s going to bruise and you’ll need to put something cooling on it.”

“Like, right now?” Branzy asked, “‘Cause I’m pretty sure we don’t have any cooling on hand - aside from the winter air, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what you meant.”

“Yeah, that’s not what I meant; you should keep yourself warm,” Chief answered, “And yeah, you should put ice on that ASAP.”

“Yeah, we don’t have ice here, though,” Branzy said, grimacing slightly as he stood up.

“Can’t we use Clown as an ice pack, though?” Rek asked suddenly, gesturing to Clown who was looking at Branzy with a worried expression.

“What?” Branzy asked, a little, teeny-tiny bit perplexed at Rek’s suggestion.

“He’s freezing cold, so we could use him as a makeshift ice pack,” Rek explained. “I don’t know. Or we could cut this hangout short and send you home to put an ice pack. Your choice.”

“Yeah, I think I’d prefer the latter,” Branzy said, wincing slightly because he’d have to stop hanging out with his friends so soon, but Rek just nodded.

“Yeah, that’s probably more reasonable,” Rek said, “We can bring you to the train station.”

“Yeah,” Chief said, nodding before turning to Clown. “And ClownPierce can bring you home, can’t he?”

Clown nodded seriously. “I will escort Branzy to his residence and ensure his safety,” he said, sounding like he was confirming a serious mission in an action film. Branzy couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Clown was just kind of… silly. 

“Good,” Chief said, putting a hand on Clown’s shoulder, “We are relying on you, ClownPierce.”

Clown saluted. “Yes Sire, Chief Guy, Sire,” he said, though his voice was starting to sound kind of different, “I will not let you down, Chief Guy, Sire.”

Branzy looked at Rek, who looked like he was desperately trying to suppress a laugh, just like he was. As their eyes locked, neither of them could hold it in any longer and started laughing, causing Chief and Clown to look at them and laugh, too. It kind of felt like Clown always had been part of their little group, with how good he was fitting in. It made Branzy happy and his heart warm. This was so nice.

Either way, when they were done laughing - which took a lot longer than one would probably expect - the four made their way back to the train station, where they parted ways.

“Bye Rek, bye Chief,” Branzy said, waving as Clown and him walked towards the underpass that connected the platforms. 

“Bye Branzy, see you on Monday!” Chief shouted, “Bye Clown!”

Rek waved at them and Clown said a way too quiet “Bye bye” while waving and walking.

Then the two were on their own again and walked to Branzy’s - and Clown’s technically - platform in a relatively comfortable silence. When they sat down on a bench as they waited for the train to come, Clown’s cold hand moved through Branzy’s and- wait, through? Branzy looked at Clown with a slightly surprised and confused expression. Why would Clown go intangible to touch him now ? 

Clown’s expression was equally surpised and confused looking, though, so Branzy wrote it off as an accident. A little strange, but it wasn’t that big of a deal anyways. Clown’s hand went tangible again and moved on top of Branzy’s hand, which Branzy turned to be able to hold Clown’s properly. 

A few minutes later, the train came rolling in and the two got on it, sitting down in the row closest to the door. Then, after waiting for a few more minutes, the train started driving towards Branzy’s station. The train ride back was pretty uneventful, compared to the previous one. Though there were plenty of interesting-looking people and multiple cute dogs, Clown didn’t seem very interested in them. Instead, he just leaned against Branzy’s shoulder and looked out the window, presumably watching the landscape pass by.

When their stop was finally announced about six-ish minutes later, Branzy stood up and waited for Clown in the aisle, which - for some reason - Clown got weird looks for when he stood up and they walked to the exit. Branzy furrowed his eyebrows confusedly (and a little irritatedly, but could you blame him for that? You can’t just look at people’s friends like they’re weird or- or wrong when they’re not and expect them to be happy about it…), but just stood by the door, one hand gripping the pole tightly and the other gently holding Clown’s, as the train rolled into the train station. 

About half a minute or so, the doors of the train opened and Branzy led Clown out, through the small crowd on the platform and down the stairs into the underpass. There, some people stared at Clown, but Branzy supposed they might’ve been just a little shocked by how realistic Clown’s ‘cosplay’ was, so he just squeezed the ghost’s hand and led him home. Or, well, most of the way was the same as the way home. But where Branzy usually would have crossed the street, he turned right, causing Clown to stop in his tracks and tug on his hand.

“Branzy,” he said softly but decidedly, “That’s not where you live. You live right there, not- where are you going?”

Branzy chuckled. “Grocery store,” he said, “I gotta get a few things before going home.”

“No,” Clown said, eyebrows furrowed, “Chief said to go to your home and put ice on your ouchie. No grocery stores.”

“I don’t have ice packs at home,” Branzy said, “I’ll have to get one in the grocery store. And while I’m there I’ll pick up some things I need to get either way.”

Clown chewed on his bottom lip, obviously not happy with that, but eventually nodded either way. 

“Alright,” he said slowly, “We go to the groc-grosher-grosherie store, get your ice and then we go home. No getting sidetracked.”

“Mhm,” Branzy said, nodding as he started walking towards the grocery store again and the ghost immediately followed after him. 

The grocery store was a sensory nightmare, but Branzy was going to have to manage. The fluorescent lights and loud noises seemed to distress his- the ghost a lot more, though. Clown was constantly wringing his hands and fidgeting with his clothes as they walked through the store and Branzy picked up several items and put them in his basket. He felt incredibly guilty for getting the ghost into this incredibly overwhelming environment after already shoving him into a bunch of unexpected and loud situations, so he hurried as much as he could. He speedran picking up potatoes, noodles, rice, frozen veggies and dino nuggies before picking up his hot choco ingredients and walking to where they sold the ice packs.

When he picked up an ice pack, he stood for a few seconds, waiting for Clown to catch up with him. As soon as he did, he gripped the fingers of Branzy’s free hand with both of his hands and followed the man to the self-check-out area. As he walked there, Branzy could feel eyes on him and noticed another bunch of weird - and some concerned - stares on him. He rolled his eyes and walked a little faster, scanned the items, paid for them, put them in his bag and left with Clown in tow.

Clown was almost completely silent; the only sound that came out of him was a quiet sigh once they were out of the store. He seemed incredibly overwhelmed and uncomfortable and all Branzy really wanted to do right now was hug and comfort the ghost, but he supposed it would be better for them to get home as quickly as possible, where Clown would hopefully feel a lot more comfortable, so he moved his hand to hold Clowns’ properly and walked home in big, quick steps. 

The walk home took about three minutes and another two minutes to get up the stairs and into the flat. Inside, he placed down Clown’s locket by the key bowl before turning to look at Clown, who looked incredibly tired and like he was about to cry. He wanted to put a hand on the ghost’s slightly transparent cheek and pull him into a hug, but he was pretty sure that would overwhelm him even more, so he didn’t. 

“I’m gonna go wash my hands now,” Branzy said, making sure to lower his voice, “You go sit on the couch, yeah?”

Clown blinked and nodded slowly before floating rather than walking into the living room. Branzy watched him with a smile on his face for a few seconds before putting down his grocery bag, walking to the bathroom and quickly washing his hands. After washing his hands, Branzy walked back to the grocery bag and pulled out the miraculously still cold ice pack as quietly as he could and held it under his hoodie as he walked into the living room. 

“Clown?” he asked quietly but didn’t get a response. At first he figured that Clown either didn’t hear him or couldn’t respond, but as he looked around the room his face dropped. 

Clown was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

“Clown?” Branzy asked again, his voice cracking slightly when he made his voice louder, “Clown, where are you?”

Like when Clown had been completely invisible the day before, Branzy got no answer. He took a shaky breath and scanned the room again, but Clown was still not anywhere to be seen. Branzy knew one hundred percent for sure that Clown’s locket was on the cabinet by the door. Clown had to be around here, which meant that he was invisible, which, in turn, probably meant that Clown was mad. Branzy racked his brain for anything he could have done to set off Clown, but he found nothing. Maybe Clown was mad because Branzy dragged him outside and took him to the grocery store? But that didn’t make sense; Clown had wanted to stay with Branzy, so it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. Then again, Clown didn’t seem to have good control over and understanding of his emotions, so he might need some alone time to process them. Still, Branzy needed to be sure if Clown was okay or not.

“Clown?” he called out again, “I get that you might need some alone-time, but could you please give me- give me a sign? that you’re okay?”

There was still no answer and Branzy sat down on the couch, running a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure how, in the span of two and a half days, he’d become a chaotic and emotionally confused ghost’s babysitter (figuratively), but he sure had done it. It was honestly really stressful at times in a way that Branzy hadn’t felt since that time in high school he had babysat the most chaotic and murderous kid the world had ever witnessed. Except that kid didn’t have the ability to turn invisible and also wasn’t essentially bound to him. Branzy rubbed at his eyes and temples before sighing and standing up.

“Alright,” he said slowly, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you be for now.” He walked towards the living room door and stopped right in front of it. “If you decide you want to talk to me again, I’ll be putting away the groceries and then working on my homework in my room. You’re free to come in at any time.”

With that he left the room and walked over to the apartment door, where he had left the grocery bag. He picked it up and carried it through the separate door into the kitchen. There he took out the groceries and placed them onto the kitchen island. Then he took his time sorting them and putting them in their respective places in his kitchen. The potatoes he put in the lowest platform of the shelf in the corner by the door, the noodles and rice in the second highest. Most of the packs of milk in the fridge, two of them on the shelf layer below the noodles and above the potatoes and the frozen veggies in the freezer section of the fridge. The cocoa powder, chocolate and sugary stuff in the top layer of the shelf. He hummed a little song below his breath as he put away the groceries, trying to swallow his worry and guilt. Then, as he finished up the groceries and started folding up the paper bag, a cold shudder rushed through him. Branzy’s eyes widened and he looked around, almost dropping the bag as he spotted a small flickering in the air. It was extremely small and barely visible, but it was there.

“Clown?” he asked, smiling slightly, “Are you back?”

He got no verbal response, but the flicker pulsed? and appeared closer to him. Then a cold shudder through his body. Branzy turned around, following the flicker with his gaze, and blinked. “Clown?” he asked again, “Why, uh, why aren’t you talking to me? Did I do something?”

The flicker stopped. In movement that is. It looked like it had disappeared for a second but then it was back to how it was before and came closer. Coldness moved through Branzy’s right hand and Branzy reflexively tried to grasp it, but it was futile. As the coldness disappeared and reappeared again, an idea formed in Branzy’s mind. “Clown?” he asked for the fifth time in the past ten minutes, “If you’re not going to, you know, verbally talk to me, would you mind communicating through touch and, uh, maybe answer a few yes or no questions? One touch for ‘no’ and two touches for ‘yes’?”

The coldness disappeared again for a few seconds before reappearing shortly two times. That was a yes, then.

“Gr-great,” Branzy said and then paused to think of what to ask first. He had a lot of ‘what’- and ‘why’-questions, but Clown would be able to answer them with touch only. Eventually, after a half a minute or so, Branzy decided on the first question. “Uh, Are- are you mad at me, or something?” he asked and held up his hand a litte, concentrating on what he was feeling with it. A second later a tap of coldness came. 

“Not mad?” Branzy asked to clarify. No response for a few seconds before two short taps came to his hand. “Not mad,” Branzy repeated under his breath, relieved. “Okay, that’s good. Why- why did you go invisible?”

He could practically feel the ghost’s judgemental and unimpressed expression the few seconds after he asked. “Right,” he said, facepalming, “Yes or no questions… Are you okay?”

One tap, two taps, three taps. Three taps? “Is that a ‘Maybe’ or- or an ‘I don’t know’?” Two taps. “Okay, uh, could you go visible?” One tap. “No?” Branzy asked and rubbed his chin, “ Can you go visible? Like, are you staying invisible because you want to?” One tap. 

“So you’re invisible because you can’t go visible again?” Branzy asked to clarify and his hand was tapped two times. Alright, they were getting somewhere. 

“Did, uh, did you go invisible on purpose?” he questioned further and got a singular tap against his hand in response. 

“So you didn’t go invisible on purpose and can’t go back visible, either… Weird…” he muttered mostly to himself. Maybe it had to do with Clown being overwhelmed by the grocery store? That kind of sounded like it made sense. Clown had seemed a little more transparent towards the end and maybe that’s why Clown was intangible when- wait, no, that was at the train station and before the grocery store. But then again… If this was anything like a melt- or shutdown, the grocery store thing was probably the tip of the iceberg, the straw that broke the camel’s back, if you will. Then maybe the whole social ordeal had been too much for Clown. 

But Clown had seemed really happy around Chief and Rek… Then again, that didn’t mean much. You can be happy around people and still get overwhelmed by it. Especially if you’re a ghost who had only interacted with a singular person in who-knows-how-long and might not be very experienced at judging how much you can handle. Also, speaking of not being able to properly judge things, Clown’s emotional state over the past three days might have played a role in all of that. 

“Hey Clown?” Branzy asked after thinking for a few minutes and got two taps in response  “Do you know why you’re in this state? Because I might have a theory.” 

Three taps, which Branzy interpreted as an ‘I don’t know’, came on his hand, so he continued, “Could it be that you’re, like, overwhelmed? You know, because of all the things that happened over the past few days and especially today? I was thinking you might have used up your energy and are invisible and intangible because of that.”

Clown was likely thinking about it before answering, seeing as it took him about two minutes before responding with two taps.

“Okay,” Branzy said and was about to suggest something, but was interrupted by a tap on his hand. “No?” he asked, “You don’t think it’s that?” Another singular tap. Branzy blinked in confusion. “So you do think it’s that?” Branzy asked and got two taps in response. Then, a second later, a singular tap came. “What?” Branzy asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “So you think it’s that, but you a-” Once again he was interrupted, though this time there were four taps with a tiny pause between the second and the third tap, two times ‘yes’. What was that supposed to mean? Maybe- 

“But?” Branzy repeated and got two taps. He rubbed at his jaw again and finally remembered to put down the paper bag. “But you think it’s something else, too?” he then asked and got another two taps to his hand. “Do you want me to try and figure it out now, or is it alright if I wait until you can tell me verbally?” 

For that he got not a single tap. It took him a minute to realise that he - once again - hadn’t asked a yes or no question, but once he did he facepalmed and sighed. “One for the first option, two for the second,” he said, holding out his hand again, and got a singular tap.

“Alright,” Branzy said, “I’m gonna go to my room and work on my assignment now, if that’s okay. You can come with me, if you want.” Two taps. 

Branzy smiled and walked through the living room into the corridor and to his room, where he sat down at his desk, opened his laptop and started brainstorming on his tech project again.

Every once in a while, he’d check up on Clown, asking if he was fine and get two taps in return. Occasionally, he would feel Clown’s hand phasing through his hand as if he was trying to hold it. It was honestly really sweet, but also sad? Like, Clown actively wanting to hold his hand but not being able to? It made Branzy want to break the laws of physics and apparently ghostness, just to hold Clown’s hand and give him all the closeness he needed.

“Hey Clown?” Branzy asked then as he deleted a few points on his mind map. About a second later, Clown tapped through his hand twice and Branzy couldn’t help but smile. “What do you say I make you another drink to try out when you’re tangible again? I’m positive you’ll love it.” Clown once again tapped Branzy’s hand twice before seemingly holding his hand right above Branzy’s and moving partially through it a few times before stilling as if trying to-

“Awe Clown,” Branzy cooed, smiling widely, “Are you trying to hold my hand?” The coldness against his hand didn’t leave, however coldness went through Branzy’s shoulder twice before disappearing. A ‘yes’, then. Branzy’s smile widened impossibly and he couldn’t help but giggle a little. It was- Okay, you know what? It was cute. Possibly even the cutest thing Branzy had ever experienced before. Like, he had seen baby kitties and tooth-rotting fluff and hurt/comfort before, but he couldn’t help but think that this was cuter. It wasn’t every day that a ghost with abandonment issues couldn’t go tangible but still wanted to hold your hand and just tried to do it as much as he could anyways. Rek would probably call him dramatic for this, but Branzy was at a point where he was willing to die and/or commit several counts of homicide and mass murder, as well as a bunch of war crimes, for the ghost. Who could blame him, though? The ghost was practically a silly little wet cat that appeared on Branzy’s figurative doorstep in the middle of a figurative stormy night. How could he not love him more than anything in his college student life?

“Awe Clown, that’s so cute,” Branzy cooed, looking above his hand, “That’s so sweet!” In response he got a tap on his shoulder, causing him to giggle. 

“No, no, it is!” he said and, to tease the definitely flustered ghost some more, added, “You’re super cute, absolutely adorable.” For that, he got a cold sensation in his face, but he didn’t care. If anything, it made him giggle more and absolutely confirmed his suspicions about Clown being flustered and his point about him being cute. Then suddenly both the hand in his face and the hand on his hand disappeared.

“Hey, no, Clown, I’m sorry!” Branzy yelped, “You can hold my hand, I won’t call you cute anymore if it makes you uncomfortable. I just thought it was nice.” 

Sadly that didn’t get Clown to return to ‘holding’ Branzy’s hand and Branzy sighed. Of course he had to ruin the nice moment with his dumb teasing. He just never knew when to stop. All he could do was hope that Clown wasn’t actually- actually, he could just ask.

“Uh, Clown?” Branzy asked, not waiting for a response before continuing, “Are you- uh, are you actually upset? Or, uh, you know…”

About a second later, he received a short tap to his hand, signalling that no, Clown wasn’t actually upset. He let out a quiet sigh of relief and closed his eyes for a second. “That’s good,” he said after opening his eyes again. “So does that mean it’s okay for me to call you cute?” 

At first he didn’t get a response for about half a minute, which honestly worried him a lot and had him chewing on his bottom lip, debating retracting his questions until, finally, Clown tapped his shoulder three times. That was an ‘I don’t know’. 

Okay, that meant that Branzy was not going to continue calling Clown tha- Two taps. Two taps. That was a yes. “It’s okay, then?” Branzy asked to be sure and got another two taps in return. 

“Alright, then, you’re super cute, Clown.” And once more he got coldness-ed through the face, causing him to giggle. 

“What?” he asked, laughing. “You allowed me to call you cute, so I did. Because you are cute.” Another coldness through the face. “Alright, alright, you’re not cute!” Branzy yelped before mock-whispering, “You’re still super sweet and adorable, though.” Just when he thought he got away with it he was coldness-ed through the face multiple times for a short duration. Still, he just laughed about it. This was fun.

And weird. It hadn’t really crossed Branzy’s mind before- well, it kind of had , but the focus had been on a different aspect, so he technically hadn’t actively thought about it yet, but either way, Branzy just realised how much his life had changed since Clown started haunting him and - more specifically - since he’s first officially met Clown a few days ago. It was kind of like he had gained a roommate. A cute, funny, dead and amnesiac roommate, but a roommate nonetheless. 

Branzy had gotten so used to having a ghostly clown around him at (nearly) all times that the brief period that Clown hadn’t given him any signs of existence earlier had really thrown him off and were practically torture. (That brought up another idea on how to torture Rek and Chief again in the future: taking away their Clown privileges.) And honestly? Branzy couldn’t even imagine living without Clown again. Like… going back to how his life had been before. His life hadn’t been bad, per se, infact, he would describe it as pretty good, but somehow the idea of not being constantly ‘bothered’ by a Clown-named ghost was making Branzy’s stomach churn and downright terrifying. So it should’ve been needless to say that Clown hadn’t just wormed himself into his, Rek and Chief’s friendship dynamic, but also Branzy’s heart.

A cold sensation in his shoulder brought him back to reality. Branzy laughed slightly. “Sorry, Clown,” he said, smiling, “I was just thinking about how much I like you.” A semi hand-shaped blob of coldness moved through his face and Branzy laughed harder.  “What?” he asked, laughing. “It’s true, that’s what I was thinking about!”

A small gust of cold wind hit him as though Clown had strongly moved his arms or something, which kind of made Branzy realise that the coldness that was Clown was starting to take a more specific shape again, like the hand just a moment before. That might’ve meant that Clown was starting to regenerate his energy, which was a good sign in Branzy’s eyes. 

Then, a yawn came through Branzy’s throat, leaving his eyes stinging a bit, as they threatened to wet from the tiredness. Just a second later, Branzy’s hand was once again being gone through by a hand-shaped coldness, which then moved in the direction of his bed.

“Alright, alright,” Branzy laughed, glancing at his laptop’s clock. Huh. It was 8:34. “Just five more minutes, then I’ll go to sleep.”

Clown tapped his hand once, then repeated the invisible gesture for Branzy to go to bed, causing Branzy to snort. “Calm down, Clown,” he said, ”I just need to edit a few things and save, then I’m done and I’ll go to bed.”

Clown obviously wasn’t too fond of Branzy’s plan to prolong going to sleep any longer and tapped through Branzy’s hand several times, making sure to make small pauses between each time so it was clear that he was saying ‘no’ over and over again.

“Clown, seriously, it won’t take long,” Branzy tried, but Clown insistently tapped ‘no’s into his hand and gestured to the bed, after, causing Branzy to sigh. 

“Fine,” he said reluctantly and pressed CMD + S to save the document, “I’m saving the document right now, then I’ll go to sleep.” Once the document was saved, which took a little because Branzy’s laptop wasn’t really the newest, he closed the laptop and stood up, taking his dental care stuff as he walked out of the room and to the bathroom, where he took about ten minutes to brush his teeth and also use the bathroom. Afterwards, Branzy returned to his room with the intention of changing and then going eepy sleepy time.

“Clown?” Branzy asked, once again continuing once Clown gave him two taps- wait, that was one tap, not two! That silly goose… “I’m gonna change now, so I’d appreciate it if you could leave for a few minutes. I’ll open the door when I’m done.” Two taps to his hand and the unnatural coldness left the room. 

Once Branzy was sure Clown was out of the room, he quickly shed his day clothes and transformed into his sleepsona by putting on his purple shirt and black shorts. Then, he walked over to his door and opened it for Clown, who colded into the room and immediately phased through Branzy towards the bed before winding towards the bed several times, causing Branzy to laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already going to bed, I’m going to bed,” he said, walking over to the bed. There he slipped under the sheets and held them up for Clown to come in, too. 

After a few seconds he snorted and spoke again. “Are you under the blanket already?” he asked. “I can’t see you and fully feel you, so I’m not sure.” To that, he got two small taps against the area, where his collarbone blended into his shoulder. The hand that had tapped him, then rested near that spot and Branzy started recognising the blob of coldness by his chest-collarbone-area as Clown’s face; the ones by his shoulder and upper back as hands connected to arms and the rest of Clown’s body lower curled up by Branzy’s. 

Branzy smiled and dropped the blanket, then, only for it to drop flat on the mattress. “Right,” he mumbled before yawning again. “G’night, Clown…” Two taps. He smiled. 

His dream was calm and of a pretty man who kept slyly smiling at him with pretty, red lips when they made eye contact as Dream-Branzy watched him lead a group of rich-looking men through the casino. Dream-Branzy’s cheeks kept heating up every time it happened. Branzy wasn’t sure what happened between the scenes, but at some point, Dream-Branzy was close to the blurry-faced man, cupping his cheek and resting his forehead against the man’s, both of them smiling softly in the warm light. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the both of them had been about to kiss, when, suddenly, his stomach cramped and a growl ripped through the image, tearing apart this beautiful, old moving photograph as he was pulled out of his dream. 

He slowly blinked awake, confused about what had prematurely ended his time with the beautiful mystery man until his stomach growled again and he realised that he hadn’t eaten since before he had gone out earlier that day. A disappointed, slightly annoyed feeling churned in his stomach at the fact that he had been ripped from the love of his dreams because he had forgotten to eat earlier. The one time he got an immersive dream that wasn’t a nightmare, but an insight of a beautiful life in which Branzy wasn’t single as fuck. He just wanted a boyfriend he could cuddle and kiss, was that too much to ask?

That annoyed feeling left immediately, though, when Branzy noticed Clown’s beautiful, slightly transparent face next to him, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as his soft-looking hair fell over his eyes. Branzy thought he was so beautiful. He had missed the ghost’s face, even though it hadn’t even been that long. His hand made its way towards Clown’s cheek, almost touching it, but Branzy caught himself and pulled it back to himself. His cheeks burned in embarrassment as he realised what he was doing; as he realised that he was describing Clown like a love interest in a book; that he was longing to hold Clown closer and cup his cheek and kiss… him. 

He told himself that he was only thinking this way because of his weird, romantic dream and because maybe, in retrospect, the dream-man looked similar to Clown because of how much he had been seeing Clown these past few days. Yes, that was it. See? Nothing weird, just normal mixing up things. Now if only Branzy’s body would catch the memo and his cheeks could stop being so hot. 

“Why are you wakey?” the sleepy voice of Clown suddenly asked, slightly raspy through its slightly higher-than-average pitch, resulting in a beautiful sound that Branzy couldn’t help but smile at.

“I’m kinda starving,” Branzy responded after a minute, when he remembered that he was supposed to answer, “I think I’m gonna go have a midnight-“ he checked the alarm clock. 2:56 AM. “devil’s hour snack.” Branzy remembered something, then. “D’you wanna come? I could make you your-“ he yawned, “your drink, then.”

Clown blinked slightly before nodding slightly. “Okay,” he mumbled, sounding really eepy sleepy, “Can we cuddle after? I wanna cuddle.”

A smile spread across Branzy’s face and he allowed himself to (platonically!!!) reach over to Clown and push a mixed strand of white and black hair out of his face and behind his ear. “Sure,” he said, feeling his face soften the longer he was looking at Clown, “We can cuddle as much as you like, sweethea- Clown- Clown.”

Clown’s beautiful orange and blue eyes shut a little as the ghost smiled softly and leaned his head upwards against Branzy’s hand(, which definitely wasn’t an easy feat), figuratively melting the alive man’s heart. “Let’s-“ Branzy coughed slightly as he retracted his hand. “Let’s go to the kitchen, then, yeah?” he suggested and sat up as Clown did the same. 

The two of them got off the bed and walked out of the bedroom and through the corridor and the living room to the kitchen. There, Branzy pulled out a stool from below the kitchen island for Clown to sit on while he’d make their hot chocolates and himself a sandwich or something. Clown immediately plopped onto the chair (on his second attempt because at first he kind of fell through) and laid down his head on his arms on the surface, watching Branzy as he took the cocoa powder and chocolates from the shelf, put a small pot on the stove and magiced some hot chocolates for the two of them. 

As he stirred the slightly thick liquid, he poured in some pieces of chocolates to make it more yum-yum-yum. Afterwards he poured two cups of hot chocolate and put colourful mini-marshmallows and rainbow reusable straws in them. Then he placed both of them on the kitchen island and slid one of them towards Clown, who looked at it in curiosity. Branzy wished he could watch Clown’s complete reaction, but his stomach was screaming at him to finally eat, so he quickly fished out two slices of toast and put salami, cheese and salad between them before sitting down across from Clown and chewing on his sandwich as he watched Clown dunk a marshmallow below the surface and jump slightly as it came right back up. 

Branzy chuckled behind his hand, mostly because he had food in his mouth and he supposed it wasn’t really the prettiest sight. He realised that a sandwich like that probably wasn’t the best fitting for hot chocolate, but he needed some easy sustenance and the sandwich was the best choice for that. As long as he drank the hot chocolate separately from the sandwich…

“So, how do you like it?” Branzy asked after he was sure Clown had tried every part of the hot chocolate and Clown looked at him with an excited - albeit a bit sleepy - expression. 

“It’s very yum,” he answered happily, “I don’t know how I’ve ever even felt any positive emotion before I knew of this magic drink. Thank you, Snowhair.”

Branzy laughed and impulsively pet Clown’s head, confirming that the ghost’s hair was indeed very soft. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, and retracted his hand to resume eating. Clown didn’t respond, blankly looking at him instead. Well, not blankly , but Branzy didn’t know an adverb that fit better. He kind of looked like a factory-reset cat, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He raised a hand up to his head where Branzy’s had been as if in a trance. Then he blinked, schooled his expression and shook his head, causing his hair to go woosh and floof. Branzy blinked a few times. If he interpreted that correctly… that was a catboy reaction to getting headpats for the first time. It kind of upset him that Clown didn’t get headpats before, but he was also glad to have been given the chance to see that reaction. “Did you like that?” Branzy asked to be sure because he really didn’t want to upset the ghost. Clown blinked again and looked directly at Branzy. 

“What?” he asked and Branzy smiled, chomping the last bit of his sandwich and swallowing it before speaking. “The headpats,” he clarified. “Did you like the headpats?”

Clown blinked a few times and brought a bloody hand to his face before shrugging. “I- I’m not sure,” he said slowly, “I… I think so?” He slowly and carefully grabbed Branzy’s wrist and moved it so that Branzy’s hand would be on his head again before nodding. “I do,” he said, leaning into Branzy’s hand, “I do like the ‘headpats’.”

Branzy smiled softly at that and gently carded his fingers through Clown’s ghostly hair, lightly massaging his scalp as he used his other hand to sip at his hot chocolate. He had to say, he really outdid himself on this one. But it had been necessary. He had a responsibility to outdo himself when introducing Clown to nice things. The ghost needed to know just how good it could be.

After a few minutes, he retracted his hand and pulled his straw out of his cup. After laying it on the counter, he grasped his cup with both hands and drank the hot chocolate out of the cup. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Clown mimicking him and drinking his hot chocolate directly out of the cup, too. It was kind of cute, to be honest, how Clown mimicked him whenever he was unsure of how something was supposed to be done. It kind of reminded him of how cats mirrored their humans’ behaviour like typing on a laptop without understanding why the behaviour was displayed the way it is.

Anyhow, once both of their cups of hot chocolate had been emptied and it was around 3:30, Branzy and Clown made their way to Branzy’s room, where Branzy got into the bed and - similarly to earlier - held up the blanket for Clown to get under. This time, though, he could see and properly feel when Clown was under the blanket and partially cuddling against him and when he dropped the blanket and wrapped his arm around Clown’s upper body, neither of them fell through the ghost. 

Unlike Branzy, the ghost didn’t seem to have lost his tiredness or more specifically his sleepy-able-to-sleep-ness, because Clown pretty much immediately yawned and closed his eyes as he cuddled against Branzy’s chest. Branzy, in contrast to Clown, wasn’t really all that sleepy anymore. He was tired, yes, very much so, but not really in that ready to go back to sleep state, which was kind of an issue because Branzy was really tired and needed to go back to sleep now. 

Doing anything else would not only completely fuck up his sleep schedule but also wake Clown again, which Branzy really didn’t want to risk. Because a) the concept of waking up Clown on its own was bad because God knows the ghost needed (and deserved) the sleep and b) Clown would be disappointed and/or upset at Branzy for not going to sleep and taking care of his needs (as shown in exhibit A: Clown immediately insisting on Branzy going to bed after he yawned once and exhibit B: Clown hurrying Branzy to go eat something the moment his stomach announced its presence in form of a light, light growl). 

So that crossed any distraction such as mindlessly scrolling on his phone or reading or working more on his assignments from the list of feasible options of what to do now. All that was really left was either be stuck in long winded and boring thoughts or watching Clown as he took slow (and probably unnecessary) breaths through his slightly open mouth, his chest rising and falling against Branzy’s. 

He was honestly so beautiful. More beautiful than any man Branzy had ever seen before, it was insane. Almost to the point of Branzy thinking it should be illegal, even. Because, truly, how could any man be this insanely, breathtakingly beautiful? Now Branzy wasn’t even sure how he ever managed not to think about how beautiful Clown was; how he ever managed to act normal around Clown. Maybe it was because he was tired and in desperate need of sleep right now; maybe it was because of the dream he had earlier or maybe he had just been blind to Clown’s beauty before. …Yeah, he should really go to sleep now, this was getting dumb. But… Then again, it wouldn’t hurt him to just look at Clown’s beautiful face a little longer, would it? No, of course it wouldn’t.

Branzy moved his hand from Clown’s lower shoulder blade and to the nape of Clown’s neck, from where he could inch higher to run his fingers through the soft hair. Clown’s head actually moved to lean more into Branzy’s touch and Branzy almost flinched back, suddenly getting the feeling that he was doing something wrong; that he shouldn’t be doing this. It was too late to retract his hand, though, so Branzy just went completely still trying not to move a single muscle against Clown. He could feel his fingers trying to twitch against the ghost’s hair; trying to bury themselves deeper in his hair, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. This was weird. Maybe if he closed his eyes now, he would sleep. He would sleep and these weird thoughts about Clown would be completely out of his head by the time he woke up. Yes, surely this was all just sleep-deprivedness and there was nothing more to it than that. 

So Branzy closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. 

Chapter Text

At some point his plan to fool his body into sleeping by pretending to sleep must have worked because Branzy woke up to heterochromic eyes looking straight into his soul from above. 

He flinched and stupidly snapped up into a sitting position, startling the ghost who had previously been sitting right next to Branzy and leaned forward, looking directly in his eyes, so much he fell down from the bed and landed a few meters in front of it. 

Branzy blinked profusely, trying to make sense of his situation before a small sound from the floor had his head snap towards it, his heart beating faster than it ever had (except when it had been beating this fast before). Clown was half laying - half sitting there looking severely startled. Branzy sighed and his breath and heartbeat slowed down to a more normal speed. It was just Clown. “Jesus, Clown,” he said, voice still high and breathless from the scare, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Clown sat up, moving strangely graciously and spiderlike, and blinked at Branzy. “No,” he said, “You scared me.” Branzy couldn’t stop the giggles bubbling up his throat at that. It wasn’t funny, but the way that Clown had said that sentence as though it was the most normal thing in the world (and it most likely was) was just so hilarious to Branzy’s still half-asleep brain.

“Well, what am I supposed to do when I wake up to eyes staring into my soul, then?” he asked once the giggles had subdued and Clown cocked his head. “But I wasn’t staring into your soul,” he said slowly, “I was just looking at your face and then in your eyes.” That was enough to throw Branzy back into a fit of giggles, causing him to double over and grab at his shirt as he leaned his head against his slightly elevated and still blanketed knee.

“What’s… what’s so funny about that?” Clown asked and - when Branzy looked at him again - stood up, only causing Branzy to laugh harder, “Why are you laughing like that? I don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry,” Branzy got out through his giggles, “I’m sorry, it’s just-” His explanation was cut short by his own giggles rising again. It wasn’t even that funny, yet he couldn’t stop laughing. He glanced at Clown again, trying to read his expression, but immediately looked away again when Clown’s confused expression made him giggle even harder. What even was this anymore? Branzy brought his hands to his face, rubbing at it and desperately trying to stop laughing.

After what felt like hours, he somewhat succeeded at not breaking into uncontrollable giggles the moment he looked at Clown and finally got out of bed, walking over to the ghost to help him up, which proved to be unnecessary because by the time he was in front of Clown, the ghost had already fully stood up.

“Sorry about that, Clown,” Branzy said, his voice still amused, “It’s just, I don’t know, you just sometimes say the strangest things with a straight face and take things so literally.” He paused as he noticed Clown was frowning. “It’s not a bad thing!” he clarified, “It’s pretty charming, I guess, and a little funny, that’s all. I’d say it’s actually pretty good.”

“You’re just saying that, aren’t you?” Clown grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away angrily. A warm grin spread over Branzy’s face as he stepped around Clown to look him in the face.

“Nooo,” he said, “You’re perfect the way you are and I would never want you to change unnaturally. And anyone who thinks you aren’t perfect - or great, at the very least - is an idiot whose opinion doesn’t matter.”

For some unknown reason, Clown’s eyes widened at that. Branzy hated how surprised Clown seemed at being told that he’s great. Because, truly, Clown was wonderful and absolutely deserved to be told that. “Seriously,” Branzy repeated, expression more serious, “You’re absolutely perfect the way you are and I couldn’t tell you to change.”

Clown looked away again and Branzy was about to step around him again when he looked back at him, cheeks slightly red, and spoke. “Let’s- let’s just go to the kitchen,” he said quickly. “You need to- to eat now, right? So let’s- let’s go.”

Branzy wanted to object, but he knew it was futile. Clown was right, he needed to eat, but Branzy really didn’t like how Clown was trying to avert his attention. This seemed like something they really needed to talk about; something that Branzy desperately needed to get Clown to believe, but if Clown didn’t want to talk about it… Branzy couldn’t force him, right? So he decided to just keep quiet about it for now and subtly tell Clown how amazing he was over time.

“Alright,” he said slowly and turned to the door, “Let’s go to the kitchen, then.”

The two of them walked over to and out the door before walking through the corridor and the living room and into the kitchen, where - like the night before - Clown sat down on a stool while Branzy took out a box of cereal and milk. “Hey Clown?” Branzy asked as he opened the cabinet with the dinnerware, continuing when Clown looked up at him, “Do you want your own cereal, too? I can make you a bowl.”

Clown blinked slightly, looking confused, before nodding. Branzy smiled and took out two bowls, one extremely purple and the other blue with white sharks because Clown seemed like a person who’d love sharks. He seemed to have assumed right as Clown’s neutral and tired-ish expression morphed into a happy and excited one once Branzy put down the bowl in front of Clown. “It’s sharks!” he said, eyes wide, “Branzy, there are sharks on it!”

Branzy smiled brightly. “Yeah,” he said happily, laughing slightly, “It has sharks! You like sharks?”

Clown nodded wildly. “I love sharkies,” he said, “If I didn’t have to care about my circus, I’d have become a pirate and stolen all of the sharks.”

Branzy blinked slowly and stopped pouring the milk, his smile fading just the tiniest bit. He had thought Clown had just made up the circus when Rek asked him as an alibi. But this sounded like the circus was a real thing. “Wait, your circus is real?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and Clown nodded.

“Yes, of course,” he said seriously, “ClownPierce’s Circus of Chaos. I wouldn’t just lie about a circus, Branzy.”

“...Right,” Branzy said, “I mean, I could have guessed that you’re from a circus from your outfit, but I didn’t think that you a) had one and b) remembered it. Also, ‘ClownPierce’?”

“Oh, I don’t remember it,” Clown said, “I just remember it. And I’m ClownPierce. I think.”

“You think?” Branzy asked and sat down across from the ghost, still a little confused about how Clown’s memory worked, “So you don’t know?”

“Well, I’m not certain, but the name feels close to me,” Clown clarified, “I don’t explicitly remember it being my name, but I know that the words ‘Clown’ and ‘ClownPierce’ feel like they’re a part of me.”

“Huh,” Branzy very eloquently said. “Is that why you reacted like that when I jokingly suggested that we call you Clown?” 

“How did I react?” Clown asked, cocking his head to the side and furrowing his eyebrows slightly. “I don’t really remember something like that…”

“You… don’t remember how we chose your name Thursday night?” Branzy asked, expression stuck scrunched up, “Like, not at all?”

“When, uh… when was Thursday?” Clown asked and Branzy blinked slowly. Right, maybe Clown didn’t know what weekday it was- But Branzy had told Clown it was Friday on Friday after school.

“Uh- you- you know, the day we first talked?” he asked, “Three days or so ago?”

“Huh…” Clown responded quietly, “I didn’t know.”

“I- I told you it was Friday the day after, though,” Branzy said. “Do you not remember that?”

Clown was silent, then, looking down at his hands for a bit before looking back at Branzy. “Would- Hypothetically, if I were to not remember that,” he spoke slowly, absentmindedly tapping his hand, “would that… would that be bad?”

“Well, yeah, it would be bad,” Branzy said, looking at Clown’s face when he didn’t get a response. His expression seemed self conscious and Branzy’s eyes widened. “Not like that,” he said quickly. “I mean, it’s obviously a problem that you’re struggling with remembering recent things like that, but it’s not, like, bad as in you’re bad, you know?”

Clown nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, more quietly than usual, “Yeah, I, uh, I don’t remember, sorry. I don’t know why.”

“That’s alright,” Branzy said, standing up and walking around the kitchen island to be closer to the ghost, abandoning the cereal completely, “We’ll see what we can do about that, Clown.”

”Is there anything we can do about that?” Clown asked and a cold, mostly tangible hand made its way to Branzy’s, holding its fingers. Branzy curled his fingers in a way that allowed him to hold Clown’s in a way that he hoped might be comforting. 

“Well, I don’t know about your memory, but we could get you a journal that you can write things that you don’t want to forget in,” he suggested, tapping his chin with his other hand, “And then you have them in your journal and remind yourself.”

Clown was quiet for a bit, fidgeting with Branzy’s fingers and seeming to think about it, before nodding. He looked back up at Branzy. “I think I’d like that,” he said, smiling slightly, “I already know some things I’d like to write down.”

“We could go on a walk to the stationery store later and see if they have a journal that would suit your purposes,” Branzy suggested, “It’s a fifteen minute walk, so it wouldn’t be too long, but we’d still get some movement.”

Clown nodded, his smile a little more pronounced, and Gods, was he pretty like that. “I’d like that,” he repeated. “Also, you still need to eat.”

Branzy snorted. “Way to ruin the moment,” he said jokingly and Clown laughed into his fist and Branzy knew that this sight was the most beautiful one there was. He knew, then, that that laugh was what he needed and Clown was even more beautiful than the man in his dream, who’s only trait that Branzy remembered was beauty. 

Branzy let go of Clown’s finger and waited for Clown to do the same before walking back around the kitchen islands and making two bowls of cereal. 

“There you go,” he said as he handed Clown his bowl and spoon before starting to eat his own cereal. He watched as Clown watched him intently before almost completely accurately copying his actions. Branzy suppressed a giggle and instead took another spoonful of cereal before speaking. “You like it?” he asked and ate the spoon of cereal. 

Clown nodded. “I do,” he said, “It feels sort of weird in my mouth but otherwise it’s nice, I think.”

“I’m glad,” Branzy said, eating spoonfuls of cereal between his sentences. “So, do you want to tell me about your theory of why you went all invisible and intangible against your will yesterday? If you remember, that is.”

“I do, I think,” Clown said, placing his spoon in the bowl before fidgeting with his hands again, “Um. I believe it is related to how long and intensively I was visible and tangible before and, well, what you said, too, I guess. Because before I was only somewhat visible every once and then, I think, and it’s very energy-consuming. But I only realised all of that when you told me I was invisible and intangible.”

“Huh…” Branzy said, thinking for a few seconds. “Hey, was being visible to other people more draining than just to me? And when did you even turn visible to other people?”

“Definitely,” Clown confirmed. “From that I think it’s when I turned completely invisible before going back to being visible, but I’m not one-hundred percent sure.”

Branzy nodded and internally noted down all of that information, before continuing to eat his cereal. 

About twenty minutes later, Branzy and Clown were sitting on the living room couch, Branzy typing away on his laptop and Clown was… Branzy turned his head slightly to look at Clown, who was just sitting there and staring at nothing in particular, seeming spaced out. It was a little worrying, especially considering their previous conversation. Clown had seemed mostly fine directly after their conversation had faded into them quietly eating their cereal, if not a little spaced out, but now it kind of felt like Clown was in a completely different world entirely and Branzy… didn’t like that. At all. He didn’t like how he was looking at Clown and had no idea where the ghost was in his head; what he was thinking at all, but he didn’t know if and how to bring it up. Maybe it wasn’t bad from Clown’s perspective…

So, despite the discomfort of not being able to read Clown in the slightest, Branzy turned his attention back to the document he had been writing. 

He was actually working on world building for the next D&D adventure of his D&D group he was actually going to be the Dungeon Master in. He didn’t have a lot down yet, but the general gist he was going for was a casino stuck in time. Yeah, maybe recent events kind of influenced his creative decisions, but it was a genuinely cool concept! A casino that’d trap the adventurers in time with barely any chance of getting out? Wait, that was just the Lotus Hotel and Casino… Oh well, that was even better. 

Either way, no matter how hard he tried, Branzy couldn’t bring himself to focus properly on the document he was writing, his mind constantly drifting back to the ghost next to him until he finally saved the document and closed the laptop before turning to Clown, who was still in the exact same position as before, unblinking.

“Clown?” Branzy asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern when he didn’t get a response. He knew that it probably wouldn’t be a great idea to try and touch Clown (if he was tangible, that is) while he was unresponsive, so, unlike a certain someone written in February 2023 (what?-), he decided to open Oobly Goobly on his phone and lowkey panickedly typing ‘ghost friend is unresponsive what do i do help help idk what to do is he okay will he be okay what do i do send help’ into the search bar. Unfortunately, however, that did not help him in the slightest because apparently Oobly Goobly was under the impression he was being ghosted by a friend, which was definitely not the case. Well- kind of, maybe, if you took not responding like that, but that- Branzy didn’t need to know how to deal with a friend ignoring his texts, he needed to know how to deal with Clown just not being present, apparently, and Oobly Goobly did not help with that in the slightest. 

So, despite knowing that it was most definitely not the best idea, Branzy carefully moved his hand to the cold air above Clown’s and then slowly, making sure that -  in theory - Clown had time to pull away, lowered it onto it. Clown’s hand was intangible, which was to be expected, but Branzy could still feel and see Clown jump at the touch. He quickly pulled away his hand as though it had been burned and internally cursed himself for just touching Clown like that when he had been so completely unresponsive. 

When Clown turned to Branzy, his eyes were switching between focussed and not, but luckily he seemed fine otherwise. 

“What- uh, What did you want?” Clown asked, sounding a lot as though he was pretending to never have been unpresent. Kind of like a drunk person pretending to be sober except applied to their current situation. 

“Are you okay?” Branzy asked, leaning a little closer with a concerned expression on his face. “You were kind of, uh, unresponsive and a little spacey there, just now.”

“Sorry,” Clown said and blinked and blinked twice more before rubbing at his eyes with his hands, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Branzy chuckled half-heartedly. “If anyone startled the other, it was me, Clown, don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone light before turning serious but soft again, “But seriously. Are you alright?”

Clown chewed his bottom lip before seeming to get distracted by the blood dripping from it and the rest of his face and wiping it away with his hand, but it kept coming like his head wound was an open faucet, no matter how hard he wiped until, eventually, Clown hissed quietly and gave up on trying to rid his face of the blood.

“Are you-” Branzy tried again, but Clown interrupted him.

“Yes,” he said quickly before biting his lip and slightly lowering and slowing his voice, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just-” He sighed frustratedly and Branzy could see tears forming in his heterochromic eyes. “Who am I?” he asked, voice quiet and desperate and Branzy’s heart sank, “Who am I, Branzy? Why- why can’t I remember?”

Branzy didn’t know how to reply to that. He didn’t… he didn’t know.

“You’re Clown,” Branzy replied weakly, knowing that that was not what Clown was asking, “You’re ClownPierce.”

“But I’m not,” Clown answered, looking down. “I’m not. Who is ClownPierce? Who am I? Why don’t I remember who I am? You know who you are and Re- your- your friends know who they are, so why don’t I know?”

“I- listen, I don’t know, Clown,” Branzy said quietly, inching his hand back to Clown’s, “I think it might have to do with the fact that you’re, you know, dead. But that’s- that doesn’t mean anything. To me, you’re Clown - or ClownPierce, apparently -, my ghostly friend and roommate.”

Clown looked back up at Branzy, eyes a little wider. “...Dead?” he asked, voice higher than before, and oh, oh . Clown didn’t… Clown didn’t know that he was dead?

“I’m… dead?” Clown asked and Branzy swallowed heavily, unsure of what to say; what to tell him to make it better.

“I’m- I think so, yeah,” Branzy tried, “I could be completely wrong, but you look pretty dead to me. And it would explain why you don’t know much about how things are now, you know, if you were alive decades ago.” Clown didn’t answer and just stared at Branzy in shock. His eyes were wide and shiny and wet with tears; his nose, chin, cheeks and the skin around his eyes were coloured in a splotchy red and his bottom lip was trapped between his top and bottom teeth, maybe to stop it from quivering. He looked almost alive like this if you ignored the inhuman amount of blood falling from his unhealthily pale face and his transparent complexion.

“That doesn’t change anything, though,” Branzy continued, “At least not to me, that is. I lo- like- I like you all the same, Clown, because you’re a person- not just that, a wonderful person and my friend either way.”

“I’m-” Clown tried, but his voice cracked, having him pause to clear his throat in what sounded like a sob. “Why? Why am I dead? No- no one else is. And- and why can’t I even remember who I am?” he asked, voice getting more frantic and desperate with every word, “Are- are you sure you don’t know who I am?”

“I’m- I don’t know who you were when you were alive,” Branzy said slowly, “But I do know who you are now. You’re Clown and you’re dramatic and fun to be around and a little insane. And most importantly you are my friend. You have a way of worming yourself into people’s hearts like that, you know? And I’m willing to bet my life that if I were to ask Rek and Chief, they’d agree that you’re our friend and a joy to be around.”

Clown’s expression changed. Branzy wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it was less distraught, he supposed.

“Why do you- why do you care so much about me?” Clown asked, then. “You… you don’t actually know me, you know that. I mean, we’ve first talked, what, uh…” He paused, muttering about his poor memory as he seemed to think. “Uh, about three or so days ago? Thursday? Either way, that’s not- that’s not enough time for you to care about me; that doesn’t happen.”

“I think it is,” Branzy replied easily, his expression softening even more, if that was even possible at this point, “You’re very likable and we’ve been practically attached at the hip, so I think it’s been more than enough time for me to really care about you. And - correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you care about me too, at least to some extent.”

“Well-” Clown cut himself off for a second. “I suppose I do care about you, but you are a real, alive person,” he said, “I’m… I don’t even know my name or who I am and neither do you. Why on Earth would you care about someone who isn’t even really a ‘someone’?”

“You are a ‘someone’, Clown,” Branzy rebutted, laying his hands fully on Clown’s, which surprisingly were almost completely tangible - perhaps because Clown’s subconscious knew he needed comfort. “You’re a wonderful ‘someone’ and you’re my friend and it’s so easy to care about you.”

“I don’t understand,” Clown whispered, voice almost too low for Branzy to hear, but leaned his head against Branzy’s shoulder and said nothing else.

“One day you will,” Branzy responded quietly and moved his hand into Clown’s hair, massaging the ghost’s scalp. ‘ I hope ,’ he didn’t say; ‘ I have no idea what I’m doing or what is going to happen ,’ he didn’t say. Clown didn’t deserve that kind of uncertainty.

“I hope so,” the ghost whispered back and leaned more against Branzy, who hummed in response and wrapped an arm around him. He didn’t really know what to say. Was there anything to say? The only things he could come up with were things that would have fit better at an earlier point in the conversation and would risk triggering Clown, so he was content letting the conversation die out as he held Clown and ran his fingers through the smooth hair, thinking of what he should do. It was getting increasingly obvious that Clown’s lack of knowledge of himself - or lack of his life was affecting him more than he let on and it would only get worse and there was nothing Branzy could do. …Or was there. He had access to the internet and therefore pretty much all records of known history. And, while there likely weren’t many records of whenever Clown had been alive, he had owned or led a circus-casino thing called ClownPierce’s Circus of Chaos, so surely there had to be at least some records of him. At least a name or something like that. Somewhere in the depths of this world had to be some information about Clown and Branzy would not accept defeat until he’d found it, that much he knew. He would take apart this world atom by atom until he’d found it and gave Clown closure, even if it was the last thing he’d do. That he promised himself. He’d find out who Clown had been.

They sat there in a comfortable silence for about five minutes until Clown broke it. “You’ll be there until I understand, won’t you?” he asked quietly half against Branzy’s shoulder and Branzy tilted his head.

“After that, too,” he promised, voice light, “For as long as I have any say in this.”

Clown nodded and cuddled closer against Branzy. “I’m glad,” he murmured, “That makes it a lot less… unmanageable.”

“Yeah,” Branzy whispered, “I’m glad I can make it less scary for you.”

“Not scary,” Clown mumbled, “I’m not scared; I don’t feel fear.”

Branzy snorted. “Of course not, of course not,” he said, laughing under his breath when his gaze got hung up on the old Zintendo Switch by the TV and an idea popped up in his head. “Hey, Clown?” he asked after a few seconds, unintentionally cutting off Clown, who had been saying something about his ‘fearlessness’ or something along those lines and now blinked, turning to look at Branzy with a questioning expression. “Do you wanna try playing a video game?” Branzy asked. “It’s pretty beginner friendly and I think you will enjoy it.” A grin spread over his face. “And it might help cure your fear - excuse me, rational discomfort in the presence of cars.”

“Snowhair,” Clown said, leaning back more from Branzy, “Branzy.”

“Yes?” Branzy asked, amused by the usage of the nickname. “Uh, Coal-and-Snowhair?”

Clown rolled his eyes but grinned. “It’s salt and pepper, get on with it,” he said, “And secondly… What on Earth is a ‘vi-dio game’?”

“Right, right,” Branzy laughed, “It’s like a video, like moving pictures, except you control it. And for the record I prefer Coal-and-Snowhair.”

“Moving pictures?” Clown asked, completely ignoring Branzy’s remark, and Branzy thought for a second he had to explain what pictures were, too, but Clown quickly proved him wrong. “I wasn’t aware you practised witchcraft,” he said, “Do not worry, though, I shall not speak a single word about this to anyone.”

Branzy laughed slightly, holding a hand in front of his ever growing smile. “So would you like me to show you?” he asked, watching Clown’s reaction intently. The ghost narrowed his eyes. “It’ll be fun, I swear!”

“Alright,” Clown said slowly and Branzy grinned, “I shall try the vi-dío game, but under one condition.”

“What is it?” Branzy asked hopefully and the ghost’s expression darkened. 

“It will not be an easy task, Snowhair,” he said dramatically and Branzy knew that it was either something really, really easy that Branzy would have been willing to do without a deal (a 60 or 70% chance) or something actually impossible. 

“Yeeeees?” Branzy asked, “What is it?”

“Are you positive that you do not wish to give up?” Clown asked, narrowing his eyes at Branzy again. “It is a feat near impossible to do and there will not be an opportunity to step away from your newly assumed duty once our deal, yes, contract, even, is completed.”

80-90% for the first outcome. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure,” Branzy said, grinning and rolling his eyes, “Just tell me what your deal is.”

“Um… Uh…” Clown mumbled, making it clear that he had not thought about what he wanted in return for even a second, just negociating purely for the sake of doing so. “I want- Can I have- I require from you as compensation for participating in your ritual second one artificial unmoving creature made from soft fabric.”

An artificial unmoving creature made from soft fabric…? “You want another plushie?” Branzy cooed, feeling his grin grow even wider. “Awe, of course you can have another plushie, Clown! What kind of plushie do you want?”

“I-!” the ghost tried to argue but cut himself off, a red blush adorning his pale cheeks. “Listen, Snowhair ,” he said, then, “I do not want a plushie , I require a second one inanimate animal companion for purely devious and evil reasons.”

“Sure, sure,” Branzy said, barely trying to contain his giggles. “You can have an inanimate plushie companion.”

“I feel as though you are not considering me in an exceptionally serious manner, at times, Branzy,” Clown said and Branzy actually broke out into laughter. 

“No, no, no,” he said, still fully laughing, and shook his head wildly, “No, no, I’m- I would never! I’m taking you very seriously and you’re very scary!”

A somewhat proud expression formed on Clown’s face. “So you admit it,” he said, sounding far too serious, “You perceive me as scary. I can live- er, unlive with that.”

Branzy snorted and stood up. “So, do you want to try it now?” he asked and Clown nodded. 

“Only if you promise an inanimate animal companion to me,” he said and Branzy walked over to the TV and took his Zintendo Switch before going back to the couch and sitting down as he started it up. Once it was on, he launched Luigi Kart and set up a two player game before handing Clown the red joy-con and taking the purple one for himself. 

“Alright,” Branzy said slowly as the game transferred to the TV screen, “Basically, there will be four races with three laps each and your goal is to finish faster than everyone else. I’ll tell you that part of the controls when we get to it. First you choose a character with this thing and that button here.” He gestured to the analogue stick and the x-button before using his own joy-con to choose his own character as an example; Waluigi. “Like that, see?”

“Which- what- uh, what- what?” Clown asked, sounding very confused and overwhelmed, “What?”

Branzy giggled. “You see these little icons?” he asked and Clown nodded. “They correspond to the character you play as, which you can see on the side. And that blue line around the icon is your selection and you need to move it using that thingy and then when you find a character you like you select it with x.”

“What does each character mean?” Clown asked, elaborating when Branzy’s expression turned confused, “I mean, what does it change which character I chose and which character should I chose?”

“Oh, uh- it- it doesn’t really change anything, I guess,” Branzy said, realising for the first time in his life that the character selection really didn’t change anything, “It essentially just changes what you’re looking at while playing and gives you the chance to play as your favourite character.”

“Huh…” Clown mumbled, flicking the analogue stick every few seconds and watching the characters switch. After a few minutes of intently analysing each character, Clown seemed to have narrowed the decision down to between King Boo and Shy Guy, indecisively switching between the two over and over again. When he still didn’t seem to be coming to a decision, Branzy decided to intervene. 

“You like King Boo and Shy Guy?” he asked and Clown nodded barely. 

“I can’t decide,” he said quietly, eyes still focussed on the screen, “I like the masked one because I like red and I also have a mask, but I also really like the ghost because I’m…” His voice lowered for the next rest of the sentence. “I’m also a ghost. And, uh, I like the crown. I just don’t know.” He finally turned to look at Branzy. “How do I choose between them?”

Branzy rubbed at his chin as he considered the ghost in front of him. “Yeah, I can see how you’re struggling with that decision,” he said slowly, “I think both of them would fit you really well. Uh… maybe you could switch between them? Select one for this cup, select the other for the next?”

Clown nodded slowly, seeming to consider Branzy’s words before looking back at the screen, flicking the analogue stick a few times and pressing x to select… Cat Peach?

Branzy blinked and alternated between looking at the screen and Clown with what he hoped looked like a confused expression. Clown seemed to catch his expression but seemed confused by it. 

“I- Cat Peach?” Branzy asked, furrowing his eyebrows, “Where did that come from?” 

“She? She’s a cat,” Clown said, like it explained everything. 

“Yes?” Branzy asked. “That… I can see that, but that doesn’t really… um, explain your choice.”

“I like cats,” Clown said happily and pointed to the screen. “See? She’s a cat and I like cats.”

“But she wasn’t in your selection before?” Branzy asked again. 

“Ohhh….” Clown said, “That’s what you mean… I just couldn’t choose between the first two so I chose the third one because I wouldn’t come to a satisfactory conclusion otherwise.”

“…Right…” Branzy said slowly before nodding. “Alright, you see this interface here? That’s where you choose and customise the vehicle.”

“What do those… things by the words mean?”

“You mean the bars?”

“What.”

“What?”

It took the two almost another half an hour to finally start the first round because Clown seemed to be set on understanding every single detail about the vehicle customisations and creating the best vehicle known to mankind, which kind of became a problem when they got to the point where Branzy’s average knowledge about Luigi Kart wasn’t sufficient to answer Clown’s questions, having him end up with a very long search history from basic Luigi Kart knowledge to Luigi Brothers lore to the history of automobiles.

Either way, once Clown had finally decided that he had enough information to make an informed decision and chose the literal first combination Branzy he got from when Branzy last played with friends, he let Branzy explain the basic controls to him. As Branzy did so, he could already see Clown’s confusion when he’d eventually find out that cars were not actually controlled that way. 

By the time Clown had a somewhat solid grasp on the controls, most of the CPUs had already finished the race, the sixth place already halfway through the last lap. Then, when Clown started properly driving on his own, Branzy started driving, too, dead last. However, once he got his first item, a red shell, he quickly took advantage of Clown’s lack of expertise (and more so the fact that he had completely forgotten to tell him about items) and overtook him. 

Because he felt bad about borderline cheating, Branzy then explained items as he drove, pausing for only a few seconds to point out how to use items on Clown’s joy-con before continuing to drive. Clown, as somewhat expected, learned quickly, causing Branzy’s head start to be completely necessary to just barely make it through their head-to-head and over the finish line before Clown. Something told him he wouldn’t be so lucky in the next round. 

And right that something was because of course Clown just was a born God at video games (or at least Luigi Kart) and absolutely destroyed Branzy. See, Branzy usually finished at third (if he was lucky) to sixth place. Sometimes lower places and rarely higher ones. And yet Clown somehow got third, then second, then first and then continuously first place in their next cup. And - weirdly enough - Branzy didn’t even mind. 

He wasn’t a sore loser in the first place; he was well aware that he wasn’t the greatest at the game and he was completely okay with that - it didn’t make the game any less fun. Still, he still got at least a little upset at losing, especially when he was continuously ranking a lot lower than his friends - anyone would at least have a scratched up ego in that scenario - and he could admit that sometimes he’d fall back on cheating. Not in a malicious way, though, Gods no! He’d only cheat in scenarios where he thought it’d be funny and he’d only jokingly gloat about winning with cheats. 

But right here, right now, Branzy was completely content with Clown absolutely obliterating him. He wasn’t just okay with it, he honestly felt a little happy. Well, yes, he was happy playing with Rek and Chief, even though it meant losing to them, but it felt different with Clown. He couldn’t even bring himself to jokingly rage over losing and he felt like he’d have to actually deliberately think about how ego-bruising it should be to actually grow insecure and upset about it, which he decided to not do. Which, honestly was an incredibly stupid thought because - well known psychology fact: Trying not to think about something results in and/or is thinking about the thing. 

Before the negative feeling could grow into anything beyond a small point in his stomach, though, he caught a glimpse of Clown’s excited expression. The air around the ghost was almost warm in a fiery way, determination and excitement burning in his beautiful eyes. He seemed so happy, Branzy couldn’t even think about being upset anymore because how could he when Clown was so beautiful like this?

So without even thinking about it, Branzy started up another cup and let Clown absolutely stomp him into the ground. At some point he was barely even looking at the screen, the sounds coming from the console leaving no doubt that he kept driving against walls and into the abyss as his eyes latched onto every small movement in Clown’s face and how beautiful they were. He distantly noticed how the round ended because the last CPU made it over the finish line while he was dead last and barely made it through the first half of the first lap. The light illuminating Clown’s face changed, then, and suddenly Clown was looking at him, expression confused and concerned. 

“Branzy?” he asked and Branzy snapped out of his trance, cheeks burning as he realised what he had been doing the entire round. “Are you okay?”

Branzy blinked a few times and nodded. “Yea- Yeah,” he said, voice cracking, and coughed into his hand, “Yeah, I’m fine, just got a little distracted, sorry.”

Clown’s eyebrows furrowed and the ghost moved closer to Branzy, almost completely filling his field of view and ghosting (hah, ghosting!) a hand over his burning cheek. 

“Are you sure?” Clown asked. “You’re awfully red. Did you get sick from the cold yesterday?”

“No, I’m- I’m fine, Clown,” Branzy said, smiling softly at Clown’s misplaced concern, “I promise I’m fine.”

Clown intently considered him for a solid few seconds before nodding and moving out of Branzy’s face. “Alright,” he said slowly, “If you’re sure.”

Branzy nodded. “Yeah,” he said and looked through the room for a distraction when suddenly his stomach growled. “I guess- I guess it’s time I eat something. Do you want to help me make lunch?”

“Sure,” Clown said happily, “I’m always glad to help you, Branzy. What do I need to do?”

Branzy smiled and stood up, dusting off his lap.“I was thinking I’d make roasted potatoes, maybe with cream sauce?” he suggested but only got a small shrug in return. 

“I shall not be the person to eat it, so I do not believe my opinion should influence your decision,” Clown said, tone eloquent and sophisticated before completely dropping, “Also I have no idea what this ‘cream sauce’ of yours is meant to be.”

Branzy snorted and turned off both the switch and the TV-screen as he walked over to the kitchen, gesturing for the ghost to follow. “I’ll show you,” he said, “And you can have some, too. You can eat, after all.”

“I might take you up on that offer later,” Clown said as he followed after Branzy, “If the result seems auspicious and promising satisfactory sensation, that is.”

Branzy laughed as he turned on the tab to wash his hands. “Why are you talking like that?” he asked and Clown blankly stared at him.

“What is it you mean by that?” he asked, still in that sophisticated tone that made Branzy crack up again. 

“That,” he said, “The- the way you’re speaking. You sound like you’re about to send me on a quest!”

“Oh, you mean that I’m using proper language?” Clown asked. “I’m not sure why it is that I’m doing that, I suppose it’s just kind of fun.”

“Right,” Branzy said, changing his tone to match Clown’s, “You- uh, would us starting to cook rather soon be in your, uh, favour, m’- um, m’sir?”

“M’sir?” Clown asked, a grin spreading across his face. “But of course, my dearest …Lord, it would be my utmost pleasure to do so. Let us start right at this moment.”

“Yes, m’sir, right away,” Branzy said. He had to admit that this was kind of fun. “Let me just pull up the recipe for the sauce real quick…” He pulled out his phone and pulled up the recipe, cringing as he read through it. “Neeevermind, we’re using powder.”

Clown nodded seriously, indubitably having not a single clue what Branzy was talking about. 

“Alright, Clown,” Branzy said and took the potatoes from the shelf, “you can either peel the potatoes or cut them in slices.”

“Can I stab them?” Clown asked, sounding very innocent, funnily enough, “Pretty please? I haven’t stabbed anyone in a long time, so I think I really deserve to.”

Branzy blinked, placing the potatoes on the kitchen island. “You know what? Sure,” he said. If that means you won’t stab anything else…

Clown smiles brightly like a child who just received the key for all candy stores. “Yippie!” he exclaimed and took his dagger from his boot. 

“Uh- let’s not use that, yeah?” Branzy suggested, smiling awkwardly as he gently pushed down Clown’s hand. 

“Why not?” Clown asked, pouting slightly as he shifted the dagger, causing the blade - and its carvings - to glimmer in the light and drawing Branzy’s attention to it. He really wondered what they were. They looked like writing, but it most definitely wasn’t English or the Roman alphabet.

“Uh,” Branzy said, looking back up at Clown, “It’s probably not hygienic and we wouldn’t wanna risk ruining your cool dagger, would we?”

Clown looked down at his dagger and pressed his lips together. “I don’t think earth apples are going to ruin this if human bodies didn’t,” he said but repocketed his dagger. Branzy smiled, eyes wide opened, and blinked, deciding to pretend Clown hadn’t just admitted to having stabbed multiple people. 

“Yeah, but you can never be too sure, can you?” Branzy asked rhetorically as he opened a drawer and took out a vegetable knife and a potato peeler before taking a potato from the bag. “By the way, what are those carvings on your dagger?”

Clown took the vegetable knife and turned it around in his hand. “Oh,” he said, ”those are… uh, I’m not sure, actually.” He looked down at his boot in which the dagger rested. “I swear I knew just now. …Surely that… doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hey, it’s fine if you don’t remember, Clown,” Branzy said, putting down his potato for a second, “You might remember later and then you can write it in your journal.”

Clown nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “You’re right. We should- we should, uh, start cooking now.”

Branzy nodded and hummed in agreement before picking up his potato again and peeling it, then handing it to Clown for cutting. Then he took the next potato and repeated the process. After about five potatoes, Branzy decided they were enough for this meal and put down his peeler while Clown was still concentratedly cutting the last two potatoes. The slices were about a centimetre wide if Branzy were to guess and more even than Branzy could ever cut them. Clown must have really been in his element there. He looked really pretty, honestly. Branzy saw his chance and pulled out his phone to snap a quick picture of Clown, eyes fixed on the potato in his hand and knife quickly but carefully slicing through it. But when Branzy glanced at his phone, he realised that Clown wasn’t visible on the screen; only a floating knife slicing through a potato. Branzy snapped a picture anyways because it looked funny, but this was really weird. If Branzy wasn’t completely off the track, Clown had been visible on camera back when… when Branzy had first seen him in the mirror and he took a video. Branzy quickly scrolled through his gallery until he got to the video and blinked. No, yeah, Clown was definitely there in the mirror right by the door. More see-through than he was now in real life, but definitely visible on camera. Hm… Maybe- maybe Clown had been completely visible then? Instead of just to Branzy? That… would probably make sense. 

“Hey Clown?” he asked and Clown looked up to him and laid down the knife next to the sliced potatoes. 

“Yes, Branzy?” he asked, smiling slightly. 

“Do you, uh, by chance remember when you first showed yourself to me?” Branzy asked, “You know, through the mirror after you wrote on it?”

“Not really, why?” Clown asked and Branzy shrugged. 

“Well, uh, you were visible on camera,” he said, showing the thumbnail of the video and then the new picture to Clown, “Now you’re not. So I was wondering if you were fully visible then and if you think that’s what made you visible on camera.”

Clown tapped his chin as he thought. “I think,” he said slowly, “I think that might be the reason, yes. I believe I’m only visible to you at this moment, but I might have been ‘fully visible’ as you call it back then.”

“Great,” Branzy said and took out a pan, “Now we roast the potato slices and make the sauce.”

“Alright, just tell me what I need to do,” Clown said, nodding, and fully turned to Branzy.

“Uh… You see that can over there?” Branzy asked and Clown nodded. “That’s a water cooker- wait.”

“Hm?” Clown asked, cocking his head confusedly. 

“I forgot to cook the potatoes,” Branzy said, running a hand down his face as he groaned. “Wait a second, maybe- maybe- oh, please…” He looked at the label of the potato bag, checking for a word that could save his life and- “Precooked, yes!” Branzy exclaimed as he found it, pounding his fist in the air. 

Clown smiled at him, honestly looking slightly as though there was not a thought behind his eyes. 

“Alright, could you take the water cooker and fill it about halfway to the first line and then put it back and press the button for me while I start roasting the potatoes?” Branzy asked and Clown immediately fell into action and carefully followed Branzy’s expression while the other put sunflower oil in the pan and put it on the heating stovetop. Just as the oil started frizzling and the first potatoes had been put in, the water cooker started and Clown turned back to Branzy for more instructions. 

“What now?” he asked and Branzy quickly pulled out the small container of powdered sauce and a whisk and slid them towards Clown. 

“Wait until the water cooker clicks and then pour it in that small pot here,” Branzy instructed as he continued tending to the roasting potatoes, “Then put in two spoonfuls of that powder and stir it with that whisk.”

Clown probably nodded, but Branzy didn’t see it, seeing as he was focussed on the potatoes as to not burn them or start a fire.

About ten minutes later or so, the two were sitting at the living room table again with a plate with roasted potatoes and cream sauce each.

“So, how do you like it?” Branzy asked as he dragged a roasted potato through the sauce and Clown shot him a thumb up as he continued eating. Clown’s portion, chosen by the ghost himself, was a lot smaller than Branzy’s, which Branzy wasn’t sure he liked, but then again, Clown was a ghost and eating wasn’t a necessity to him as it was to Branzy.

Needless to say, Clown finished his food a good while before Branzy did and decided to nap while Branzy ate, reasoning that he would need extra energy to go the stationary store with Branzy, though Branzy suspected he was actually scared to run out of energy and get isolated again. Thinking about it gave Branzy a bad feeling, so he decided to focus on his food and Clown’s even, barely there breathing.

The food tasted good. Almost better than usual, even, perhaps because he had made it together with Clown. Emotional value and all that…

After finishing his food, Branzy decided to go clean all the utensils they had used before waking Clown to go outside. 

When he was finished washing up and putting away the cleaned things, it was 1:34 PM. More than enough time left. 

Just as Branzy was putting away the handkerchief, Clown came floating into the kitchen and laid his head on Branzy’s shoulder, kind of like a cat. (No, Branzy would never stop comparing Clown to a cat.)

“He-hey, buddy,” Branzy said, chuckling. “What’s up?”

Clown quietly groaned and concern started forming in Branzy’s gut. “Buddy?” he asked again and Clown removed his head from his shoulder. His expression was off; eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting while his bottom lip was trapped between his teeth.

“Head hurts,” he eventually mumbled, eyes averted.

“Oh, is something too loud? Did you drink enough? Do you need to drink?” Branzy asked, watching Clown’s expression, trying to figure out what was wrong. 

Clown looked at him through the blood falling from his face with an expression that told Branzy that he was being stupid but Clown was too nice to outright say it. He opened his mouth a few times, immediately closing it every time before pointing to the top of his face, which seemed to be the origin point of the blood, and finally speaking. “I- head wound,” he said bluntly and, yeah, Branzy felt kind of very dumb. 

“Right,” he said awkwardly, “That makes sense, sorry. I could try to take a look at it and see what I might be able to do about it, if you’d like that?”

Clown nodded slowly. “Mhm,” he hummed, though his voice seemed kind of strained. 

“Alright, you go to the bathroom and sit there, I’ll get a different medkit, yeah? The med kit in the bathroom is almost empty,” Branzy said and Clown nodded before disappearing into the direction of the bathroom. Branzy immediately  went to the fridge and pulled out the medkit from the top of it. He hesitated a second but decided to also take an ice pack from the fridge in case he’d need it. He then walked through the living room into the corridor and towards the bathroom. There, he stopped, though, hesitating again before swiftly getting the hairband his sister forgot here the last time she’d visited him from his room, and then went into the bathroom. Inside, Clown was sitting on the closed toilet seat, looking at his feet as he kicked them, though he looked up at Branzy when he entered. 

“I’m here,” Branzy unnecessarily said and placed the things he had brought on the floor. Then he carefully put the pastel pink hairband around Clown’s head to hold the ghost’s long hair out of his face, revealing what looked like a blunt force head wound, which caused him to let out a sympathetic hiss.

“Yeah, that looks pretty bad,” Branzy said, “I’m surprised you didn’t mention it before…”

“I don’t always feel my body, like- like it’s not real,” Clown mumbled, “And it’s usually not this bad when I do, ‘cause I get distracted, ‘cause you’re comfortable.”

Branzy tried to ignore his face heating up, but smiled slightly as he took a washcloth and wet it. “I’m glad you feel comfortable around me,” he said softly. “I’m going to clean your wound and face now, okay?”

Clown nodded, a movement that was barely there, and Branzy gently tabbed the cloth around the outlines of the wound. Branzy felt heavy as he slowly but surely uncovered the wound that was definitely intentionally produced by a hard and heavy object; metal, maybe. Murder . He swallowed thickly around the lump that was forming in his throat. It had been murder . Clown had definitely been murdered. That much was clear. Branzy took a deep breath and gently, gently tabbed the washcloth on the wound, eliciting a light hiss from the ghost. 

He wondered why anyone would murder someone like Clown. Then again, if there was any weight to Clown’s statements and jokes, the man had definitely stabbed and perhaps even murdered at least one or two people, so Branzy supposed it’d make sense for Clown to have had enemies who’d go for his head (figuratively and literally). 

Branzy took another washcloth to wipe the now blocked blood off Clown’s face. 

And that was not even mentioning the inherent target queerness would have placed on Clown’s back, then. Still, Branzy couldn’t fathom how anyone could do something like that to Clown. 

He blinked back into reality when the washcloth was bloodied, leaving slight smudges on Clown’s now clean cheek. Branzy had to admit that Clown was insanely beautiful like that. Not that Clown hadn’t been beautiful with blood on his face, not at all, Branzy could appreciate a little gory look, but the lack of blood on Clown’s face allowed him to appreciate the beautiful facial structure and the smudged clown-ish makeup revealing slight freckles. Not to mention the fact that the wound the blood had been coming with was causing Clown pain, which was definitely reason to prefer the unbloody version. Yeah. 

Branzy placed down the washcloth to deal with later and opened the medkit. First he took out some cooling and anti-inflammatory cream and gently dabbed it on Clown’s wound. Once he made sure it was spread properly, Branzy put a sterile patch on it before using a clean bandage to put pressure on it and to fix it to the wound.

Then he sighed slightly. “I’m… not really sure what else to do,” he admitted quietly, “The only other thing that comes to mind are painkillers, but I’m not sure how good of an idea that would be.”

Clown nodded slightly and Branzy cleaned his hands before considering Clown again, gently brushing a finger against his cheek.

“Does it at least feel a little better?” Branzy asked softly and Clown leaned his head against Branzy’s hand, causing sparks of heat to dart into the alive man’s cheeks.

“Mhm,” he said quietly, “Thanks Branzy. I appreciate it a lot.”

“It’s- It’s no problem,” Branzy stammered, trying his best to sound unaffected, “I’m- I’m just glad that I could, uh, help you, Clown.”

Clown smiled and looked at Branzy with an expression that was so soft that Branzy felt like he was going to die if that expression wasn’t directed at him anymore. Suddenly the ghost disappeared and Branzy almost flinched back, feeling like his heart stopped in his chest. 

But then Clown reappeared, bandage still in place. 

“Clown, what-“

“It’s still there!” Clown exclaimed, interrupting Branzy, and pointed to the bandage, “It didn’t go away when I ‘went invisible’!”

“That’s good,” Branzy said, feeling his heartbeat slow down artificially, “That’s good. But, uh, Clown?”

Clown blinked. “Yes?”

“Please don’t go invisible without warning if you can help it,” Branzy said carefully, hoping to not upset Clown, “That really scared me just now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Clown said apologetically, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” Branzy said, smiling slightly. Clown nodded slightly, causing a few white strands to fall out of the hairband and into his face. He was so pretty. Branzy was almost about to fight the urge to pet his hair and run his fingers through it, but decided that, fuck it, if Clown could lean into his hand and cuddle against him, Branzy could pet him without feeling weird about it, and slowly brought a hand to Clown’s hair, first removing the hairband, allowing the hair to fall the way it did before, and then carding his fingers through it. 

“You’re so beautiful,” someone whispered and Branzy looked away and slapped his free hand over his mouth when he realised that it had been him. “Sorry,” he said awkwardly, “That was, uh-“ he looked back to Clown, whose cheeks burned red through the barely-there makeup, his lips parted slightly and eyes wide. “…awkward…”

Clown startled and blinked wildly, leaning forwards. “No! Uh, no,” he said, shaking his head, “I, uh, I- I don’t mind… I don’t mind you saying that.”

Branzy’s cheeks felt like they were on fire and he nodded. “Uh, okay then,” he said quietly and carefully removed his hand from Clown’s hair, allowing it to fall around Clown’s face. “I say we get ready to go and get you your journal, now, yeah?”

Clown nodded. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll wait by the door.”

Branzy blinked, a little confused until he realised that he still needed to change into day clothes. 

“Great,” he said, smiling as he stood up and walked towards the bathroom door, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

With that he left for his room, where he changed into a half purple, half black tee, black cargo trousers, his purple and white shoes and a black winter jacket because of how cold it was getting (especially in combination with a short sleeve top). Once he was finished with that, he took his bag and put his wallet, an umbrella and emergency bandaids for just in case. Then, he left his room and was greeted by Clown staring him down from less than half a meter away, though the lack of blood on his face made it a lot less terrifying than it had been earlier, when Branzy just woke up. 

“Hi,” Clown said, sounding like the ‘:3’-emoticon, and Branzy suddenly felt very much like a cat owner, trying to resist the urge to pick up their cat and snuggle it to death. 

“Hey,” Branzy said back, once he got over his struggle, and walked around Clown towards the flat’s door. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yep, let us go,” Clown answered, half floating, half walking after Branzy, “I even turned completely visible while you changed your clothes.”

“That’s good,” Branzy said as he opened the door, “Just make sure to walk when we’re outside.”

Clown nodded seriously and followed after Branzy, this time exclusively walking. The two then walked down the stairs and outside of the house. From right outside, the two turned right and walked into the direction of the grocery store. About a kilometer in that direction was a shopping center, in which the stationary store resided. Between the shopping center and the grocery store lay a nice little neighbourhood and train tracks. 

The two walked most of the way side-by-side in relative silence. At multiple times on the way, Branzy was really struck by the urge to hold Clown’s hand, but the most he ended up doing was moving his hand slightly closer before immediately withdrawing and keeping his hand at his side, not wanting to risk making Clown uncomfortable and/or embarrassing himself. That seemed to be pointless, though, as Clown definitely noticed, seeing as eventually he just sighed and wordlessly took Branzy’s hand in his. It was definitely very embarrassing for Branzy and left him with burning cheeks, but he was also glad for it. Clown’s hands were nice and fit perfectly in Branzy’s and Gods, he just wanted to hold them forever. …Platonically. Yeah. 

Anyhow, about fourteen to fifteen minutes later, the two had just crossed the train tracks and made their way across the parking lot. Then, they walked into the shopping center. It was loud and kind of busy in there, likely because December and therefore Christmas was coming up. Also because it was a shopping center, though. Anyways, Christmas BANGERS were blasted into their ears and Branzy knew that neither of them would survive in there for longer than ten minutes. Luckily, though, the stationary store was the first one by this entrance of the shopping center, so they’d be pretty much in and out. 

Branzy turned to Clown and gestured towards the stationary store, before walking in there with Clown. The first thing he noticed was how much less crowded it was; the second that there wasn’t any Christman music playing, the winter OST of Animal Crossing New Leaf quietly filling the air, instead. Branzy, still holding Clown’s hand, led the other to the notebook section. 

“Alright, here we are” he said, “You can choose one of those.”

Clown nodded slowly and looked around the shelves. Then he immediately focussed in on one and, like a moth drawn to flame, walked towards it and picked it up, turning to Branzy with almost sparkling eyes. 

“May I have this one?” he asked, holding it out for Branzy to see. It was black with white pages and glittery red and purple hearts on the cover. 

“Sure,” Branzy said, smirking as a thought came to him, “It kinda looks like us. Red and purple, see?”

Clown’s expression didn’t change at all, though - if Branzy wasn’t completely mistaken - his cheeks reddened ever so slightly, almost invisible in this light. “I know,” he muttered, rolling his eyes slightly, “That’s… the reason I decided on this one.”

Once again, Branzy felt embarrassed and not the least stupid. Still, he couldn’t help but smile. So what if his observation wasn’t original and actually Clown’s entire reasoning for his decision? It didn’t weaken Branzy’s point at all. If anything, it actually backed it up! So Branzy would not be the teased one!

“Awe,” Branzy then cooed, “That’s so cute, Clown!”

Like he hoped, Clown’s cheeks reddened even more, to the point that the ghost looked away entirely. 

“I can choose a different one,” he muttered, sounding very teased. 

“Nope,” Branzy said happily and snatched the notebook from the ghost, causing the small lock to hit his finger, “We’re getting this one.”

When Clown frowned, Branzy’s expression softened. “Hey, I was just kidding, Clown,” he said, handing it back, “I think it’s actually really nice that you chose it because of that. And I wouldn’t actually judge you for that.”

Clown chewed on his bottom lip and Branzy actually felt guilty. But then he nodded and handed the notebook to Branzy. 

“I want it, then,” he said, “Besides, you think demon spiders are cute, so maybe it’s you, where the mistake lies.”

“Nah,” Branzy said, walking towards the checkout, “There just isn’t a mistake. There’s nothing wrong with being cute, darling.”

Clown raised an eyebrow at that and Branzy chuckled. 

“What?” he asked. “Hypothetically, if you were cute, that would be great. Think of how practical that’d be. You could lure in people with your cuteness and then obliterate them with your deviousness.”

“…You have a point, Branzy Craft,” Clown reluctantly said, “I suppose I am cute, then. Can we go home now?”

“How- Since when did you know my last name ?” Branzy asked, honestly a little, teeny, tiny bit shocked. 

“Can we go now?” Clown asked again and Branzy reluctantly accepted that he wouldn’t be getting that answer any time soon.

“Sure,” he said and led Clown to the checkout, where he paid four dollars for the notebook and then put it in his bag. Then the two quickly walked through the hell that was the main body of the shopping center and to the parking space. There Clown, once again, took Branzy’s hand and they walked the way back. 

They were about ten minutes away from home when suddenly there was a meow and a small cat brushed against Clown’s leg. Branzy didn’t even bother to try and get close to the cat this time, knowing for a fact that it would either brutally murder him or run away and Clown seemed really excited, either at receiving attention from a cat or from a living being that wasn’t Branzy. He immediately crouched down and gently petted the cat and from the sight, Branzy knew that he had fallen in love with Clown. Platonically, of course. 

How could he not, after all? The sun was already on its way down and lit up the scene in such a beautiful way, making Clown look even more ethereal. Not to mention how gentle he was being with the cat. It was honestly the sweetest and most beautiful view that he had ever seen.

Taking advantage of the fact that Clown had turned fully invisible earlier, Branzy pulled out his phone and lo and behold: Clown was visible on screen. Not as beautiful as in real life, but still a wonderful sight. So Branzy pressed the button and took one or two photos. In a moment of impulsivity, he set the photo with the more impressive lighting as his phone background. Surely that wouldn’t ever cause any problems for him, right?

Chapter Text

After about five minutes, the cat decided that it was done with cuddling and disappeared behind some bushes. Clown stood up looking a little disappointed before clearing his expression and taking Branzy’s hand again.

“Alright, we can go home now,” he said, smiling at Branzy and Branzy realised what Clown had just called the flat. Home . He had called it that in the store, too, if Branzy wasn’t mistaken, but at that point Branzy had been a little distracted by Clown randomly knowing his last name, which he was honestly still very confused about. But alas, he decided not to bother trying to figure it out right now and focus on the fact that Clown had called his flat home .

Because, yeah, he supposed it was Clown’s home too, now, but still, hearing Clown call it that just warmed his heart. He was glad Clown felt at home in his flat (and distantly wished he himself would be what Clown called home one day in the future).

“Yeah,” Branzy breathed, face warm, “Let’s go home.”

The two continued their walk home together in a comfortable silence. It was nice. Branzy didn’t feel like he needed to say or do anything specific to keep the mood from becoming awkward, so he didn’t. It felt more like, well, he could just quietly coexist with Clown without it being weird. Just… walking side-by-side through a pretty neighbourhood while the sun ever so slowly made its way down. 

It would have been the perfect scenario for a first, romantic kiss. Clown would turn to him with a soft smile and he would smile back and cup Clown’s cheek; pull him down slightly and lay their lips on one another. And there it would only be them in their own little world, kissing while the last beams of sunlight shone just for them. 

— Yeah, what the fuck was that? Why was he- Branzy’s cheeks went hot. Why was he thinking about Clown that way?

He glanced at Clown to check if the ghost had noticed him maybe acting weird or something, but the ghost was looking ahead with a small smile. When he noticed Branzy looking at him, he turned his face to look at him, smile growing to the point that there were what would have become small wrinkles by his eyes, had he been alive, and Branzy couldn’t help but notice the small dimples the other man had. He was so beautiful. Branzy smiled back automatically, not being able to stop it in the face of Clown. He loved seeing Clown happy; it made him happy, too, so of course just the sight of Clown smiling at him would make him beam like the sun. 

Distantly, he also wished Clown was alive so that, one day, Branzy could see him with crow’s feet, so that they would grow old together and never part. He was a little scared of getting old, but the idea of being old and with Clown was making that fear a little smaller. 

It also made Branzy wonder. How did ghosts work? If it was anything like in movies or tales that Branzy had been told as a kid, they had unfinished business that needed to be solved so that they could properly pass on and disappear. Selfishly, he hoped it wasn’t like this; selfishly, he hoped that Clown wouldn’t pass on and stay by his side, instead. But that would be cruel, wouldn’t it? No, it was cruel, hoping Clown would never pass on and be able to rest in peace because Branzy got attached . He just… he wasn’t sure how to live alone and without Clown after this. But for as long as Clown would be with him, Branzy would make it work; Branzy would make sure that Clown would have a good time being a ghost and safely find his way to peace. And after that? After that, Branzy would hope, would pray, would do anything to find Clown in the afterlife when he would inevitably die as well. And there he would stay with Clown forever . 

By the time Branzy had come to that conclusion, they had gotten back to their apartment complex. He quickly tapped the code for the front door into the keypad. 42999-63366. And with a click, the door unlocked and Branzy pulled it open. Still holding Clown’s hand, he made his way inside and up the stairs. 

The moment the apartment door closed, Clown went completely invisible before reappearing a second later. If Branzy had to guess, Clown probably changed his visibility so that he was only visible to Branzy.

After putting away his jacket and things, giving the journal to Clown and washing his hands, Branzy sat down on the couch, where Clown was scribbling in the journal with a lead pencil from the glass table. Branzy took note of how, when he sat down and the contents of the journal came into his range of sight, Clown tilted it so he wouldn’t see, which was fair, Clown deserved his privacy and Branzy would respect it.

So seeing as Clown was busy writing down his memories, Branzy decided that he would be productive as well. Not with preparing for school tomorrow or school work, though, no. Branzy opened his laptop and opened Oobly Goobly to start his search for Clown’s identity. That was when he realised the task he had taken on would be a lot harder than he had expected. After all, what was he meant to oobly goobly? How did one find out the identity of a ghost with barely any concrete memories?

It didn’t matter, though, because he would do it. And he did have some information to go off on, already. The name of Clown’s circus, for example. ‘ ClownPierce’s Circus of Chaos ’. Branzy quickly typed it in the search bar before hitting enter. Of course, with his luck, Oobly Goobly showed 15,1 million results, but the first ten results were already not at all related to what Branzy was looking for, always lacking at least a word or about some musician’s album called ‘Circus of Chaos’, so chances were that Branzy wouldn’t find a single web page with what he was looking for. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Though… What if there was something of importance among the millions? Sure, the chances were low, but not non-existent. But weaving through those pages would take hours. Still, Branzy couldn’t just dismiss them if there was even the smallest chance he’d get a lead on Clown’s identity there.

Maybe he could go through other terms to search and look through all the results if they turned out to be as useless as this one. Yeah, that should work. 

The next term Branzy oobly gooblied was ‘ClownPierce’, but it was about as successful as the previous one. Most of the results were just for the word ‘clown’, then there were some results relating to the word ‘pierce’. Branzy was about to provisionally give up on that search and try another term (though he wasn’t sure which one), when a result which didn’t have a mark of excluding a part caught his eye. He blinked and scrolled a little so it would be the top one. When he looked closer, though, he realised it was an excerpt from a book, in which a sentence ended with ‘clown’ and the next began with ‘Pierce’. So nothing of value, either. He couldn’t help but sigh at that, running a hand down his face. Of course.

He considered for a split second to google ‘circus’ or ‘casino’ and try to find something, but he knew that the chances of finding something related to Clown there would be even lower than with his other searches.

So he was back to square one. Well, actually square two for now. He still hadn’t gone through the millions of results for each of the terms… Oh this was going to be such a pain. But this was for Clown. Clown deserved to know who he was. And Branzy did say that he would take apart the world atom by atom if it meant he’d find Clown’s identity. He couldn’t break that promise, even if Clown didn’t even know about it.

Now there was the question which term he should start with. He could do it in the order he first oobly gooblied them, but perhaps that wasn’t the most efficient way. Because with ‘ClownPierce’ he would get results for everything that included the word, including the term ‘ClownPierce’s Circus of Chaos’. Then again, if ClownPierce wasn’t mentioned in an article that could possibly be about his circus, it wouldn’t be included in the results. Then… Then it was clear, it had to be the first batch of results.

Now, if Branzy wanted to be as efficient about it as he could he should probably use his phone instead of the laptop. After all, while he took his laptop to uni, he couldn’t use it properly when he didn’t have access to seating, like if he didn’t get a seat on the train or while he was walking or waiting for the train or waiting for his friends. It had to be the phone.

So Branzy pulled out his phone and prepared for the most brain-numbing task of his life as he opened Oobly Goobly and typed in the name of Clown’s circus. His phone loaded the first batch of results and Branzy already wanted to quit. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t and he couldn’t do that to Clown. 

It was a painstaking task and Branzy had already lost track of how many results he had looked over, but he knew he had been at this for at least an hour. Probably more. By now Clown had closed his journal and taken to sleeping with his head half on half in Branzy’s lap. 

For a minute, Branzy considered joining Clown in his little nap but ultimately decided against it, seeing as it was already seven and Branzy had school tomorrow. He should probably take a break from the semi-mindless scrolling soon, though. Maybe not take a nap but actually go to sleep. 

And eat dinner, Branzy thought as his stomach made its presence known with a sharp twist of hunger. He took a screenshot of the result he was at and - more importantly - the scroll bar, hoping that, just in case his progress would be reset, it’d help him get back to where he had left off a lot easier and quicker. 

Then he put away his phone and stood up, gently laying Clown’s head on the couch as he did so. After he ensured that he hadn’t woken up the ghost, he walked over to the kitchen, thinking about what to eat. With his hunger-struck mind, he thought he might eat anything, but that still left a decision to be made. 

He probably had at least a little bit of leftovers from the roasted potatoes from earlier. Hopefully. Because Branzy really didn’t have the energy nor the will to make anything right now, even if it’d be just a sandwich. He checked the fridge and sure enough there was a tupperbox. Taking it out he took a quick look inside and confirmed that those were the roasted potatoes. Then he walked over to the microwave and put the box inside, then waited for it to finish warming up. 

Once the microwave pinged, he took out the box again, opened it and got a fork to start eating. The somehow still present flavour of a collaborated and shared meal immediately warmed up Branzy’s body (and heart) and he felt a lot better than before. 

Once he was finished eating, he went to his room to gather up his dental hygiene stuff and then to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Not wanting to waste too much time, Branzy actually tried something new this time. For each subsection of his teeth, he slowly counted to ten as he brushed them, so, at the end, he’d have brushed his teeth for about three minutes, like he had been taught in elementary school. 

After brushing his teeth, he went back to his room, where he put away his toothbrush and toothpaste and changed into his sleepwear before considering going to bed. Not going to sleep but sleeping in his bed. Issue was, Clown had fallen asleep on the couch while Branzy had been there and Branzy didn’t want Clown to wake up alone and not aware of where Branzy was. Moving Clown probably wasn’t a good option, either, as waking up somewhere different to where you fell asleep would probably make the average ghost and/or person panic. So yeah, no moving him while he was unconscious. Not to mention the fact that Clown might not even be tangible enough for that. 

So his options were either sleeping on the couch or waking up Clown. He didn’t really want to wake up Clown but he also didn’t necessarily want to sleep on the couch, so Branzy decided to decide once he’d get back to the living room. And so he walked back to the living room. 

There Clown wasn’t lying on the couch anymore, but sitting up, looking very much half asleep. Well, at least Branzy wouldn’t have to wake him up. 

“Clown?” Branzy asked and noted that he himself sounded more tired than he had thought he was. 

Clown slowly turned to him, his eyes squeezing shut in a blink for a few seconds before opening again, his irises almost glowing in the dark. He looked a little confused and his eyes were drooping from what Branzy assumed was sleepiness. 

“Hey,” Branzy said quietly and stepped a little closer.

Finally he got a response from Clown. “Branzy,” he said more quietly than usual, voice cracking slightly. 

“How are you feeling?” Branzy asked, walking closer and barely resisting the urge to cup Clown’s cheek and stroke his cheek. The skin looked so soft and nice, the white contrasting the red of his blood that was slowly making its way down his face, soaking through the now blood red bandage. Huh. 

“S’eepy,” Clown answered, eyes almost drifting shut again, “‘nd cold.”

Branzy frowned slightly before smiling. “Do you want to cuddle and sleep in my bed again?” he asked and Clown nodded with a small delay. 

“Yes please,” he mumbled and got on his feet, swaying slightly. Branzy gently took his hands to stabilise and guide him to his room. 

There, he let Clown get into bed before following suit and covering both of them with his blanket. He slowly wrapped his arms around Clown’s torso and the ghost laid his face against Branzy’s chest, curling up like a cat. Branzy smiled and closed his eyes as he laid his head against Clown’s, slowly drifting out of consciousness.

The beautiful man smiles as Branzy laughs and readjusts his black tie. “But no,” he says, the slight smile still playing on his lips, “that doesn’t apply to you, darling.”

Branzy takes a step closer and leand a little closer so that there are only maybe ten centimeters between their faces, also smiling. “Oh?” he asks, “Why is that, —---- ? What makes me different?”

“What makes you different,” the man says, also leaning closer, only leaving room for a finger between them, “is that I like you.”

“But I could still be an enemy, sweetheart,” Branzy says, narrowing his eyes in a smile, “For all you know, I could still stab you in the back and turn out to be like them all.”

The man mirrors him. “But you won’t,” he says as if that was all he needed to say.

“But I won’t,” Branzy agrees, resting his forehead against the man’s, “I like you too much for that.”

“Oh?” the man asks and Branzy nods carefully, bringing a hand to his cheek.

“You’re very likable, sweetheart,” Branzy murmurs, “Even if I had come here with the intent to end your life, I couldn’t possibly do that with how infatuating you are.”

“You flatter me,” the man says, smiling, “Though the same applies to you, darling. I can’t help but think about you whenever you’re not here.”

“It’s been too long,” Branzy murmurs, “hasn’t it?”

“It has been too long,” the man agrees. “I’ve missed you.”

Branzy leans in for a kiss, but just as he does so, the scene changes.

He is sitting against a wall on the floor, resting his head on the man’s shoulder as he watches him clean his dagger in slow, methodic movements. It is a beautiful sight. The man’s fingers are long and slender like pianist fingers as they move across the dagger. He absentmindedly wonders if the man plays piano. He wouldn’t be surprised if he did. And he thinks… he thinks he’d like to hear him play someday.

The hand holding a beige handkerchief slides off the blade, revealing carvings that look like runes, glinting in the light of the lantern. They look familiar. Branzy wants to ask what they were, but he feels he can’t speak. The atmosphere is too serene to break it like that. The man is too beautiful like this to distract him.

Branzy doesn’t know how long he watched the man clean his dagger, but at some point his eyes start drooping and he decides to take a quick nap. The man would still be there when he’ll wake up, after all.

Yeah, no, what the fuck was that thought? Why did he think falling asleep in a dream would lead him to wake up in that same dream? Well, maybe the unawareness of it being a dream. Perhaps. Well, either way, Branzy woke up to his alarm blasting into his ears and startling Clown out of his arms. Branzy frowned because he really wanted to keep cuddling with Clown - especially after that dream, just now. Then he groaned because it was Monday morning and he had to go shower before going to uni and then to work for a total of eight hours. He stood up and walked over to his desk to shut up his phone, rubbing at his eyes as he did so. 

A yawn escaped his lips and he turned to Clown, who was standing still in the middle of the room as though he wasn’t walking on but completely covered in eggshells. 

“…Is everything… alright?” Clown asked hesitantly, subtly fidgeting with his hands which he was holding in front of his chest in a professional-looking position. 

Branzy blinked and stilled for a second before nodding. “Yeah, sorry,” he said, “Just wasn’t really ready to wake up and stuff, yet.”

“Then go back to sleep?” Clown suggested, cocking his head, “I can look out for danger if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Branzy chuckled. “No, no,” he said, “That’s incredibly sweet of you, but I do have to get up now if I want to take a shower and be at school in time.”

Clown frowned. “Right,” he mumbled, “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Sorry,” Branzy apologised, remembering what Clown had told him Friday after school. “I have to go to school and to work. But, uh- you can come with me this time, if you want to.”

“Really?” Clown asked, voice quiet yet hopeful, and Branzy just wanted to hug him. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling, “But, uh, but you should stay invisible to others while we’re out, this time.”

Clown cocked his head curiously. “Why?” he asked, “Did the last times not go as well as I thought they did?”

“No, no, they did,” Branzy said, “It’s just that you’re not a student at my uni and because of that you’re kinda… not allowed there? And it’d be weird if someone saw you on our way there or at work, you know?”

Clown nodded slightly. “Understood,” he said, “I shall be invisible to all aside you. When will we be leaving?”

Branzy snorted and glanced at the clock. It was 08:04. “At ten,” he said, “That’s in about two hours.”

Clown nodded again. “Alright,” he said. “What will we do until then?”

“Well,” Branzy said slowly. “First things first I’m going to take a shower, then we can eat something and after that I’m pretty sure we’ll have to leave pretty quickly. Oh, and if we have time, I could redo your bandages, if you want me to.”

Once more, Clown nodded as Branzy collected some fresh clothes and his shower stuff. “Okay,” he said quietly and then continued watching Branzy, staying silent until Branzy was about to leave. “While you do that, could I please have the- the bag with the- the thingies- the fidget thingies, please?”

Branzy smiled. “Of course,” he said, “I think it’s still on the living room table.”

“Thank you,” Clown said and floated past Branzy and out of the room, lightly brushing his hand against-through Branzy’s hand as he did so. And BOOM just like that, he disappeared into the living room. Well, actually it was more of a Bshuuuuu, seeing as it was a smooth transition rather than a jump cut, if you were to explain it in editing terms. 

Yeah… Either way, Branzy went to the bathroom, where he showered, which- Why on Earth was it so hard to find a water temperature which wasn’t either boiling you alive or freezing cold?! Seriously, even with just barely a milimeter movement of the faucet the temperature changed drastically, which was honestly not fair at all to the Branzy Nation. 

Anyhow, Branzy took an actually pretty quick shower to ensure that he’d have enough time to change Clown’s bandage after. Once he was done showering he put on his clothes: a white t-shirt, a dark purple hoodie with a minecraft heart stitched somewhere along the lines of where a real heart might be, long black cargo trousers and Barbie socks.

Afterwards he put his previous clothes in the to-be-washed basket and put his shower stuff back in his room. 

When he came out of his room, a red and black blur flitted through his vision with a small ‘woosh’ sound. Branzy blinked and tried to comprehend what just happened, but it happened again and again and then, suddenly the blur stopped, thumping against him. Clown, who had apparently been zooming through the corridor, seemed a little disoriented for a few seconds before smiling happily and nudging Branzy’s shoulder with his head. 

“Hi Branzy,” he said, snuggling against Branzy and lightly poking his arm as he continued, “Branzy, Branzy, Branzy.”

“Yeah?” Branzy asked amusedly, grinning as he ran a hand through the sections of Clown’s hair that weren’t tied back, “What’s up, buddy?”

“Nothing, I just like saying your name,” Clown said, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds, before making eye contact, “Branzy.”

“Clown,” Branzy answered, pressing a kiss to right above Clown’s bandage. 

“Branzy,” Clown repeated and Branzy was about to repeat his answer, too, when he suddenly continued speaking, “I like you.”

Branzy smiled, feeling his cheeks warm up ever so slightly. “I like you too, Clown,” he said softly before pausing and looking at Clown’s face, which was bloody again. “Do you want me to redo your bandage so the blood is out of your face again?”

Clown nodded and almost hesitantly removed himself from Branzy’s arm, sighing discontently.

“What’s wrong?” Branzy asked, frowning slightly, but Clown just shook his head.

“I want to cuddle with you for eternity and never do anything but ever again,” he said mournfully, “But as is obvious, my wish is impossible to fulfill, as you have a life to live and duties to carry out.”

Branzy huffed out a small laugh. “You and me both, buddy,” he said, patting Clown’s head before walking towards the bathroom with him, “But we can still spend as much time together as we can.”

Clown nodded and followed after Branzy, brushing his hand against Branzy’s. Once they entered the bathroom, Clown immediately sat down on the closer toilet like he had done the day before and Branzy carefully removed the bandage. The wound looked pretty much the same as it had yesterday, when Branzy had taken a look at it, which Branzy figured was because Clown didn’t have a physical body and it probably didn’t regenerate like a normal body would. Either way, Branzy used a wet washcloth to carefully clear Clown’s face and wound of the blood as he thought about his dream earlier. 

He really wondered, now, who that man was. He couldn’t remember his name nor his face nor his voice, he just remembered that he had been beautiful and that - in the dream - he had known him. It was exactly like the previous dream except the scenario had been slightly different. It was weird. Branzy would have brushed it off as a normal desperate to have a boyfriend gay moment, had it only happened once, but this was the second time in a row. And knowing now that paranormal things existed, as proven by Clown’s presence, he couldn’t help but feel as though there was more to the dreams. Thinking about it now, they kind of felt like false memories. Like, being in a situation that feels oh so familiar but Branzy obviously had never been in. Because Branzy knew for a fact that he had never been in a casino or any of the places in the dream. The only casino at all connected to him in the slightest was Clown’s casino, but surely that wasn’t… And the dagger was… like Clown’s. Perhaps… it might have been just a dream after all? While it could… probably be possible for this dream to actually have a real connection to Clown, but why would they show up now? There’d at least be some explanation that Branzy could understand if he’d assume for now that it was probably just a normal dream. After all, the things in his dream were all somehow related to things that had been happening in his life recently: the casino, the carvings in the dagger - perhaps Branzy couldn’t ask wbat they were because he himself didn’t have the answer. So while it might be a little odd, it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary for Branzy to have repeating similar dreams in a short time frame.

The only thing left was… the man in the dream. It was obvious that he had to be some sort of interpretation of an alive Clown, but a little changed, obviously, as Clown and him didn’t… have a romantic relationship like he and the man seemed to have had. That was probably just Branzy’s constant underlying wish for a boyfriend mixing with everything else. It wasn’t anything weird, just different stimuli mixing as they were processed, so Branzy just ignored how his cheeks were warming up. 

By the time he had finished his thought and came to that conclusion, he had finished cleaning Clown’s wound and bandaging it. 

“There we go,” Branzy said, smiling as the parts of Clown’s hair that weren’t tied back fell over his face again. “Is it okay like that?”

Clown nodded. “Yes, thank you, Branzy,” he answered, smiling too. “You need to consume your sustenance now.”

Branzy laughed. “Yeah,” he said and washed his hands, “Let’s go to the kitchen then, yeah?” 

Clown nodded once more and waited for Branzy to dry his hands before leaving the bathroom and walking towards the kitchen with Branzy following suit.

In the kitchen, Branzy checked the clock and decided that - seeing as he only had another twenty-five minutes until he’d have to leave for school - he’d eat a quick cereal. Branzy went to get a bowl, shooting Clown a questioning look as he did so, but Clown shook his head, so Branzy only got one and filled it with milk and cereal before sitting down at the kitchen island and eating. While he ate, he subtly took out his phone and continued scrolling through the search results as Clown went back to swooshing through the apartment and bouncing on his feet.

After finishing his food and quickly washing the bowl and spoon, Branzy quickly put his laptop in his bag and put on his jacket and shoes and went to leave his flat. On his way out, he decidedly took Clown’s locket and put it in the upper right pocket of his cargo trousers.

Once he had it secured, he walked to the train station, Clown in tow, where his train was actually there on time, and entered it. The moment Clown and him sat down on a double seat, Branzy took out his phone and continued skimming over the search results.

As the train started moving, Clown, who was floating by the window, pressing his fingers and breathing against it to watch the glass fog up, turned to him with a curious expression. “What are you doing on your magic box thingie?” he asked, drifting a little closer as he tried to peek over at Branzy’s screen, which Branzy instinctively tilted so he couldn’t see. He didn’t really mean to do it, but in retrospect, he was glad he did it. Clown… Clown didn’t need to know Branzy was trying to find out who he was until Branzy had actual results, otherwise he might get let down if nothing of value came from Branzy’s research.

“Just, uh, looking through school stuff,” Branzy whispered, hoping no one would hear him because this time he actually knew for a fact that Clown was only visible to him and he really did not want to be considered weird talking to himself, “You know how it is.”

“I quite literally do not, actually,” Clown whispered back, perhaps not really understanding why Branzy was whispering and that he didn’t have to whisper, perhaps just being dramatic, “Know ‘how it is’, I mean.”

Branzy snorted quietly, hoping people would assume he was looking at a meme or something, and continued scrolling and scrolling and scrolling and-

“Plainlands Central Station,” the prerecorded announcer spoke through the intercom, “Entrance to Town House M1.”

Branzy shut off his phone and pocketed it as he stood up, rubbing at his eyes before subtly gesturing for Clown to follow him. Clown, who had apparently been floating by the window across from the door two rows in front of Branzy, perked up and floated towards him and Branzy realised in horror that Clown had been drawing on the fogged up panes with his fingers. Evil smileys and old words. Where not a single person had been sitting. Gosh, he was such a menace to society. Branzy had never been so in love proud before in his life. 

Smiling to himself, Branzy walked down the stairs to the underground and walked through it. Clown followed him closely, looking curiously at all the people they were passing but staying close to Branzy the entire time.

“It’s so colourful,” he whispered as they walked up the stairs to the main lobby. Correction: Branzy walked and Clown floated after him. Branzy nodded slightly, smiling.

“There are so many different people,” Clown continued and floated around Branzy, “Branzy, there are different people everywhere here! In public!”

Branzy smiled a little more. ‘Yeah,’ he wanted to say, ‘There are different people everywhere!’ But alas, he had to stay quiet to not arouse suspicion and/or be assumed to be weird and/or insane, so he just smiled quietly as Clown looked around at the masses of people.

About seven to ten minutes later, Branzy arrived at campus and walked to the building his first class, mathematics, would be in. He leaned against one of the pillars just outside by the door to wait for Rek and Chief, whom he had maths with, and let Clown investigate the outside of the building. While Branzy waited he pulled out his phone again and scrolled and scrolled and scrolled and-

“What is bro doing ?” a familiar voice asked and Branzy looked up from his phone to see Ash Swag from comp-sci looking at Branzy’s screen judgmentally. 

“Uh, hi Ash,” Branzy answered awkwardly, scratching his neck, “I’m just, uh, doing… research.”

“Not very successful, eh?” Ash asked and looked a little closer. “ClownPierce’s Circus of Chaos? Yeah, good luck with that, loser.”

“What- what do you mean?” Branzy asked, looking between his phone and Ash, who rolled his eyes and laughed. He couldn’t be doing this for nothing. 

“You’re not gonna find anything useful on there,” Ash said. He paused for half a minute or so. “ I might have some information that could help you, though. For the right price, I might be willing to give it to you.”

Branzy perked up. “What’s, uh, what’s that, Ash?” he asked, hopeful that he might get his answers sooner rather than later. 

“Your comp-sci notes from last week and you got yourself a deal,” Ash said, surprising Branzy who honestly expected to have to give up his entire life savings and/or negotiate for a lot longer. 

“Deal,” he said immediately, “I can send them to you as soon as I’m inside.”

Ash nodded. “Good,” he said and turned to leave. 

“Wait!” Branzy exclaimed, getting both Ash’s and Clown’s attention. “What about your side of the deal?”

Ash smirked. “Meet me behind campus by that gibormous fucking tree, like, seriously illegally huge tree at nine thirty,” he said and walked off. 

He couldn’t believe this. Did he just get scammed? Was he seriously letting Ash make him wait on this crucial information until tomorrow? Did Ash even have valuable information or was that just a ploy to get Branzy’s comp-sci notes? 

“Nah, man,” Branzy said, “What the fuck!”

Suddenly Clown was right beside him. “What does ‘fuck’ mean, Branzy?”

And just like that, Branzy could feel his world crashing down. There was no way. There was absolutely no way he might have been scammed and had to explain what ‘fuck’ meant to ClownPierce. There was abso-fucking-lutely no- wait a second. Branzy, the mature and responsible MAN he was, had read a book on the history of the word ‘fuck’ before. The first time it appeared was in the 15th century! And from Clown’s English, which sounded like early modern English, the ghost must have been alive after the 15th century! So he most probably was alive during a time where ‘fuck’ was a common swear word! 

“Wait, no,” Branzy said, “You. You don’t know what ‘fuck’ means?”

Clown blinked. “I literally just-,” he said but cut himself off. A few seconds passed until he spoke again. 

“Oh,” he said, “I’ve heard it before. It’s a bad word that the wonderful gentlemen in my casino tend to drop when they inevitably lose their bets and they’re not in the presence of women.”

Branzy laughed. “When they’re not in the presence of women?” he asked. 

“Oh, Branzy, don’t you know it’s unbecoming to swear in the presence of ladies?” Clown asked, mocking a posh accent. “Not that there had been any ladies in our casino. Aside from the ladies that were there, of course. You did not hear that from me, though.”

“Oh?” Branzy asked, grinning, “ClownPierce committing crimes?”
“Oh please, gambling is- was? illegal, on its own, Branzy,” Clown said, grinning, too, “And I have committed crimes considered far worse than that. So it is not as though I am a saint.”

Branzy was about to ask something along the lines of what exactly Clown meant by that, half-expecting Clown to not know, but right before he could, Vitalasy, his classmate, appeared next to him, seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Uh, Branzy, buddy,” he said awkwardly, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but, uh… you’re kind of talking to yourself. Loudly. And - while I’m not judging you, of course - people are kind of… looking. So. Yeah.”

Branzy felt his blood leave his face and then immediately return in a flush. Right. Yeah. He had absolutely completely forgotten about that. He must have looked so weird.

“Uh, yeah, I’m, uh-“ he stammered, trying to find something he could say to make himself look more normal. Which… How did one look normal when loudly talking to literal air? Branzy wasn’t sure if that was even possible. 

“You lost another bet, didn’t you?” Vitalasy asked, a patronising grin spreading over his face. “Oh Branzy, you really need to stop agreeing to bets that you won’t win.”

“That’s not-!” Branzy squawked but cut himself off. It’d actually be really good for him if Vitalasy thought he had just lost a bet. “I didn’t lose , it was literally rigged!” He paused for a second or so. ”And I don’t even lose bets that often!” he then added because he didn’t want to make himself look, like, pathetic or dumb.

Vitalasy raised his eyebrows in a way that made it clear that he absolutely didn’t agree with Branzy in the slightest. 

“If you say so…” he said before shrugging and walking away. 

“Oh?” Clown asked from just behind him, “You do bets? You fancy a bet against me?”

“Ugh, shut up,” Branzy snapped lightheartedly and Vitalasy turned to him again. 

“Never,” Vitalasy said, grinning, before finally going inside. Clown giggled into his hand as Branzy turned to him before putting on a very false innocent expression. Branzy grimaced at him before looking back at his phone. Should he continue scrolling? Ash said he had info, but that might have been a ploy to get to Branzy’s notes. Branzy wanted to slap himself for telling Ash he’d send him his notes once he was inside instead of making sure the info would come to him before he gave out anything. 

Well… Ash didn’t have the notes yet . Branzy should send them just in case, but… But he could also put Ash in a position where he was forced to give Branzy what he wanted. After all, in most deals that were prone to scams, payment was half upfront, half after the other party completed their part. So… Branzy could just send part of his notes and keep the rest behind a paywall to make Ash give him the information he needed. 

Branzy nodded to himself. That wasn’t too bad of an idea. Branzy was practically unscammable now!

Whether he’d continue to look through the results Branzy could choose once he got a reaction to the half-payment from Ash. He really, really hoped Ash wasn’t lying to him because he really needed anything and everything he could find out about Clown and he really did not want to continue scrolling for hours on end. A scrolling hiatus, then. 

Just as he pocketed his phone, Rek and Chief showed up, Chief coming from his previous class and Rek probably from the library or something like the nerd he was. 

“Branzy!” Chief greeted him once the two were right in front of him. 

“Chief, Rek! Hi!” Branzy responded, grinning. “What’s up?”

Chief’s eyes darkened. “The eternal life consuming abyss that is the Universe,” he said, voice void of emotion and Rek rolled his eyes, grinning slightly. 

“He found out that, apparently, his favourite type of giant squid or whatever has been extinct for centuries,” Rek explained and Chief’s head snapped towards him. 

“What?!” Chief asked loudly, despair in this voice. 

“That… that is literally what you told me?” Rek said, laughing nervously. “What else did you think the red E in the category ‘status’ means?”

“Not extinct, that’s for sure!” Chief wailed. “So you mean to tell me that is means that all Squiddios Ginormicus Galacticus Lunarus Collosicalus and all of the deep sea star squid types are dead?!”

Branzy put a hand in front of his mouth, trying not to laugh. He felt kind of mean for almost laughing at his friend’s despair but to be fair, Chief hadn’t taken him too seriously either when Branzy almost stabbed someone on accident. 

“Yeah, I think he was just being himself,” Branzy said to Rek, who ran a hand down his face.

“Honestly, you’d think a marine biology major would know this better than an English major,” he said. 

“Ohh, Chiefy, did you not pay attention in class? Guess you need to listen more to your PSA videos!” Branzy sing-songed, ready to figuratively jump on his friend. Also literally, though, only stopping once Chief was trapped on the floor. 

Rek took a few steps back as though he was trying to look like he wasn’t associated with them, but sighed and said, “I was going to ask you about your ribs, but I suppose they’re fine enough for you to fight Chief again.”

“That reminds me,” Chief chimed in, standing up from the floor, “Did that, uh, that ‘ClownPierce’ cosplayer guy bring you home and take care of you? Or should I have not trusted him to do that? I knew I should have done it myself!”

Branzy laughed. “No, he brought me home and even helped me cook,” he said, smiling slightly, and Chief sighed. 

“Of course,” he said. “What’s next? You’re gonna leave me for him because he’s so great?”

Blanzy blinked slowly. “What?” he asked and Rek snorted.

“He’s just so much better than me, isn’t he?!” Chief huffed out, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve been cheating on me with the strangely beautiful stranger, haven’t you?”

Branzy laughed, partially because of Chief’s words and partially because of Clown’s playfully shocked and flattered reaction to said words. “Yeah,” Branzy said, “You’re kinda mid in comparison.” When Chief gasped offendedly in response, Branzy added, “Don’t worry, though, everyone is mid in comparison to him.”

“What does ‘mid’ mean?” Clown mumbled to himself and Branzy knew he had a lot of work explaining internet and modern lingo to him.

“Hm, I see you,” Rek said and Branzy snorted.

“I can’t tell if you’re sussing me or agreeing with me,” he said, laughing.

“Both, actually,” Rek said, “Both. You’re very weird about him for a ‘platonic’ friendship, but he is very pretty.”

“Literally what are you on about?” Branzy asked before sighing dramatically and pulling out his phone to check the time. “No matter. We have five minutes until class starts.”

Rek spluttered and pulled on Branzy’s arm. “What was that?” he asked, trying to look at Branzy’s lockscreen.

“Huh? What is what?” Branzy asked and activated his phone revealing… Oh gosh… Clown petting a kitty in the golden hour. Probably not very good for his case. 

“That!” Rek said and snatched Branzy’s phone from him. “Why do you have him as your wallpaper, if you’re feeling purely platonic emotions about him?”

Branzy blushed brightly and prayed that Clown tuned out their conversation for some unknown reason. “Listen. Listen, can’t I have my friend as my phone wallpaper?” he asked, “Fellas, is it gay to have your friend as your phone wallpaper?”

“If it’s them in a beautiful scene with good lighting, yes,” Rek said, “Besides, you never had either of us as your phone wallpaper.”

“I did, actually!” Branzy rebutted, “I had Chief as my wallpaper!”

“He did,” Chief agreed, “He loves me.”

“It was a photo of all of us at pride,” Rek said, “Chief wasn’t even the center of the picture.”

“I was, though,” Chief said, “I’m always the center of the picture.”

“See?” Branzy asked. “It’s not-”

“Why are you blushing then?” Rek asked and Branzy huffed.

“I am literally not,” he said, crossing his arms, “It’s cold , sorry that my skin doesn’t stay perfectly even coloured in the cold.”

Chief looked enraged. “So you are cheating on me, Branzy,” he said. “How dare you cheat on me with ClownPierce?! - Though, I do have to admit he does look kinda pretty without the blood on his face.”

“Hm,” Rek said, “You’re right. Tell him that, Branzy.”

“I- uh, sure?” Branzy said, now thoroughly confused.

“Alright, we really gotta go to class now,” Rek said and opened the door to the building, “Don’t think we’re done talking about this, though, Branzy.”

Chief followed closely after him. “Yeah, don’t think we’re done talking about this, Branzy,” he said, glanced back at Branzy for a second and added, “Or should I say… Cheaterzy?”

With that he disappeared inside, though the dramatic nature of his performance was completely ruined by the people he almost ran into and Branzy being directly behind him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Branzy muttered and rolled his eyes before subtly gesturing for Clown, who was threateningly holding his pen towards a spider five meters from him, to follow him. Clown shot one last wrathful glance at the spider before float-skipping after Branzy, who walked over to the auditorium his maths class would be held in.

Maths wasn’t a bad class, far from- actually, no it was not very far from being a bad class, it was just acceptable, no need to lie. 

Anyhow, Branzy was extremely bored and sitting in maths class, listening to the professor explaining the same concept for the twentieth time because apparently a group of students that shall not be named were under the impression that repeatedly asking the teacher a question about the most basic, fundamental part of the concept would better their oral grades, which didn’t even count that much. 

So, in his boredom, since he had already sent Ash half of the notes, Branzy had taken out his- or, well, Clown’s locket and begun fidgeting with it. Clown had glanced at him with an unreadable expression when he first took it out, but didn’t say or do anything, so Branzy assumed it was fine. 

It was really weird how the locket wouldn’t open. It didn’t even have a lock or anything, it was just a normal locket except it didn’t open. Branzy would have to find a way to unstuck it. If Clown was okay with it, that was. He had seemed rather possessive of it when Parrot almost ‘stole’ it and called it ugly, but then again, Branzy thought he’d probably react similarly if someone were to try to take his stuff, then call it ugly. Especially if he didn’t have much in the first place, like Clown as a ghost did.

Branzy glanced at Clown, who was sitting on the floor in the corner, scribbling into his journal. 

Was it okay for Branzy to have the locket? Should… Should he really have the locket? He paid for it, yes, but it still belonged to Clown, so… shouldn’t Clown have the locket then?

Could he even have the locket? Was that something he could do? After all, it wasn’t just any object, it was the one Clown’s soul was tied to. So while he could have regular and ghost objects, it might be entirely possible for him to not be able to have the possessed locket.

Yeah, he should really test that at home. And ask Clown about the locket. Yeah. He slipped the locket back in his pocket and tried to focus on the teacher again to avoid the slight feeling of guilt stirring up in his stomach. 

After his class, or, well, classes, plural: maths and comp science, he met back up with Rek and Chief, who obviously had different classes, just outside of the campus cafeteria. 

As usual on Mondays, Branzy had about an hour until he had to board his train to his workplace, so he went to eat lunch at the cafeteria, which obviously was free for students because why wouldn’t it be?, with his friends. 

Rek got a normal pizza margarita, Branzy got rice balls with mushroom sauce and Chief got insanely offended and almost committed an instance of first degree mass murder over one of the food options being squid (Branzy could agree that serving meat could definitely be argued to be insanely unethical, he just thought it was hilarious that Chief only had an reaction this strong because of his ‘emotional connection’ to squids), but then ate about a billion (two) servings of sushi, arguing that as a human squid he needed a certain fish to other food ratio in his body to live properly.

After a nice meal that Branzy mostly spent carefully avoiding any topic that could lead to talking about Clown, who was intently analysing each of their meals as if he had never seen anything like them before, which… probably was true, if Branzy thought about it for longer than a second, Branzy (and Clown) made his way to the train station, mentally preparing himself for his shift of customer service at a tech shop. He didn’t hate his job, but customer service could get really… exhausting and uncomfortable at times. 

That proved itself when a wonderful and no doubt very intelligent and well-versed in technology woman exploded on him for suggesting to try to restart her phone to get it to work normally again, while Clown, who seemed rather tired already, watched with a murderous expression. Ten minutes later, after Branzy had convinced her to restart it, the issue was immediately resolved and the phone worked normally. Yeah. Listen, Branzy got that it could get annoying to get asked to restart the device by the tech-guy every time, but sometimes - a lot of the times, actually - that was just the solution. 

Well, at least most of the other clients that day were alright and didn’t needlessly complicate things, so, at the end of his shift, Branzy only had a slight headache.

It was about 6:44 in the afternoon, when Clown and Branzy boarded the train. Clown seemed pretty tired. Perhaps the full day had been a bit too much for him. If so, Branzy would have to find a solution to that. After all, he didn’t want Clown to burn out. But what could he do? There wasn’t really enough time to comfortably and unsuspiciously bring Clown and his locket home and then go to work, but Branzy also couldn’t just not go to work. Leaving Clown at home alone, though, obviously wasn’t an option either. How did single and/or working parents solve this? Babysitters. Only issue was that Clown wasn’t a baby or young child but an adult ghost.

Hm… He’d have to think about that one more later, perhaps talk to Clown about it.

As Clown leaned his head on Branzy’s shoulder, sitting on the empty seat next to him, and shut his eyes, Branzy pulled out his phone and resumed scrolling. He might get info from Ash, but it probably wasn’t that bad of an idea to continue a bit. 

Chapter Text

It was a little after seven in the evening when the two came home. Somewhat understandably, Clown pretty much immediately curled up on the couch, watching Branzy like a cat as the man went to the bathroom to quickly wash his hands before coming back and sitting down next to the ghost.

Neither of them really said anything, but Clown leaned his head against Branzy’s arm. Branzy smiled softly and threaded his fingers through Clown’s very soft hair. He really hoped Ash’s information was actually going to help him figure out who Clown is. He really, really wanted to find out who Clown was, to see Clown’s face when Branzy would tell him his name. He wanted to hold Clown’s hands and call him by his name and kiss him and- yeah, Branzy really couldn’t go one wholesome thought about Clown before it turning horribly boundary-breakingly weird. Branzy bit his lip slightly. What would Clown think of him if he knew how Branzy kept thinking about him. Would Clown even be comfortable being so close and affectionate with him if he knew?

Branzy shook his head in a small movement, trying to clear his head of those thoughts. Right. Ash’s information. Knowing Ash, there were two options: a) he actually had really underground and groundbreaking information that would be a ginormous help in finding out Clown’s identity, or b) Ash had absolutely nothing , no relevant information, no sources, nothing but would still find a way to claim the other half of Branzy’s notes.

Branzy wasn’t really sure which option to expect now, but… But he could go to uni half an hour earlier and give it a try. If Ash knew something, Branzy needed to know.

He looked down at Clown to be met by heterochromic eyes looking right back at him, causing him to almost jump out of his skin.

“Hey Clown,” he said after he was sure he wouldn’t sound like a terrified little baby anymore, though his voice was a lot more high-pitched than he would have liked. “What’s up, buddy?”

Clown blinked slowly. “...Up where?” he asked, eyes narrowed and tone confused, causing Branzy to giggle.

“Not literally,” he explained, voice still all giggly, “It means, like ‘How are you?’ or ‘What are you thinking or doing?”.”

“Ah,” Clown mumbled before nodding. “I was just looking at you because you were being all mysterious.”

“‘All mysterious’?” Branzy asked in response, furrowing his eyebrows, “How?”

Clown frowned. “You looked like you were thinking really hard, then you reddened, then you paled, then you shook your head and then you started thinking really hard again,” he explained, “So I was looking at you. Also because I like looking at you, though.”

Branzy felt his cheeks heat up at that last part, but he skillfully ignored it, choosing to instead laugh at Clown’s summary of his apparent timeline of expressions. “Oh, yeah, I was just thinking,” he confirmed, pausing before remembering something. “Hey, by the way, do you want to try something?” he asked. “I’ve been thinking about this for a little now and I wanted to see if you can hold your locket, if that’s something you can do. So… Do you want to try it now?”

“Nope,” Clown said, shaking his head once, kind of surprising Branzy.

“Uh- What?” Branzy asked, not really having expected Clown to just bluntly decline like that.

“I’m too s’eepy,” Clown said, his face forming a near perfect :3 expression, “So I cannot participate in experiments now.”

“Huh,” Branzy said, “Well, I guess we can try that another time, yeah?”

Clown nodded. “Okay,” he said, “Now you need to eat.”

“Yeah, I guess I should do that now,” Branzy agreed, nodding as he mused on what he should eat. It had to be relatively easy to make because he absolutely did not feel like cooking anything with a lot of preparation time. So in the end, Branzy decided on noodles and dino nuggies with cream sauce.

“I think I’ll make noodles and dino nuggies with cream sauce,” he said as he stood up and walked to the kitchen, where he immediately got to work. Clown slid off the couch and floated after him.

“Dino nuggies?” he asked as he sat down on one of the shelves and Branzy laughed slightly.

“Dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets,” he explained and took out the dino nuggies from the freezer.

“Wow, I didn’t know chickens that big existe-” Clown said but cut himself off when he saw the box of chicken nuggies. “Oh, nevermind.”

Branzy snorted and opened the box before laying out the nuggies on an oven tray and putting it inside. Once the nuggies were being ovened, he started cooking his noodles. Throughout all of the cooking process, Clown stayed perched on the shelf, watching Branzy. It was a little nervousity inducing, but Branzy didn’t mind. If anything, he found it quite adorable.

What wasn’t adorable, though, was Clown trying to steal his knife while Branzy was eating. Actually, who was Branzy kidding? Of course it was at least a little adorable. Like a cat trying to steal a string except it was a ghost, who had definitely committed murder at least once when he was alive, trying to steal a knife. Still, Branzy couldn’t help but grin as he swatted away Clown’s half materialised hand as the latter tried to steal Branzy’s knife for the fifth time.

“Hey! No! Bad!” Branzy exclaimed and Clown stuck his tongue out at him.

“Boring,” Clown drawled, pouting at Branzy’s hand, which was covering the knife. “You meanie.”

Branzy laughed at that. “What do you even want with the knife?” he asked, playfully rolling his eyes. Clown frowned, but took a step back and sat down, feigning innocense.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, but didn’t look away from the covered knife as if waiting for the moment to pounce, “I don’t even want the knife that bad.”

“Oh, good,” Branzy said, smirking, “because you’re not getting it.”

“Good, keep your dumb, boring knife, I don’t want it, you knife-obsessed maniac,” Clown said, rolling his eyes.

“I think I will, thank you,” Branzy said, happily playing along with Clown’s game. Clown groaned in frustration when Branzy still kept the knife hidden below his hand.

“You are so mean, you are aware of that, yes?” Clown asked, glaring at Branzy, who just laughed.

“Hm? I thought you didn’t want this ‘dumb’, ‘boring’ knife,” he replied with a sly smile. “What happened to that?”

“What happened to common human decency?” Clown snapped back, “How dare you keep a shiny knife from the ClownPierce, who do you think you are?”

“Oh, so you do want the knife,” Branzy said, “But it’s so dumb and boring, I don’t even see why you want it.”

“Then give it to me,” Clown insisted, “Because, unlike you, I will actually appreciate the knife.”

“Hmm… Nope,” Branzy said, booping Clown’s intangible nose, “You’re not getting this knife.”

Clown frowned. “But what if I really, really, really want it?” he asked, “What if it would make me reeeaaally happy? How could you stand in between me and my happiness, I thought you liked me?”

Branzy laughs. “I do, I do like you,” he said, “But you’re not getting this knife. I need it. If you so desperately want a knife, why don’t you just get one from the drawer? I know you can use it.”

“Because,” Clown said decisively, “Because I want this one . Not some other knife.”

Branzy raised an eyebrow. “Why not?” he asked, “What’s wrong with the other knives?”

Clown’s transparent cheeks reddened. “Well, they’re dumb,” he said, “And- and I know they’re not as shiny. This one is clearly better.”

Branzy snorted. “Sure,” he said, “If you say so.”

Clown just stared at him with that expression on his face; that look to him that Branzy was sure could move him to do anything. It wasn’t even a cute pout and wide eyes like those puppy dog expressions, it was more just a frown and a glare that, would he not know Clown, Branzy would definitely be afraid of and see as a threat. But it was kind of cute. And it made Branzy just want to give Clown the world. Actually, Clown in his entirety made Branzy want to do that, but that expression enhanced it quite a lot.

He didn’t necessarily want Clown to know about this weakness of his, but it was a weakness for a reason - that being that it was working, so Branzy sighed deeply and exaggeratedly. 

“Fine,” he said and handed Clown the knife, before standing up to get a new one. He was surprised to hear the knife clatter slightly as Clown placed it on the table and quickly floated around him to block his way to the drawer. 

“No,” the ghost said and Branzy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

“No?” he asked, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean no,” Clown said, huffing, “It’s not special anymore if you just get a new one.”

Branzy laughed. “What?” he asked, very confused. “I thought you wanted that knife, what does me getting a new one change?”

Clown bit his bottom lip. “You’ll have a new one,” he said, “I don’t want some knife, I want your knife. Because you’re using it and if you just get a new one, what’s the point of me having this one?”

Branzy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, you’ll have your knife and I can eat my food properly,” he said. “I mean, do you want me to not be able to cut the dino nuggies so I can eat them properly?”

Clown frowned. “No,” he said quietly, “I just want your knife because you like it, so I like it. I can kill the dinos for you.”

“So you want to take away the things I like?” Branzy asked lightheartedly with a raised eyebrow, “Is that what you’re saying?”

Clown’s frown deepened and his shoulders dropped. “You can have the knife, my apologies,” he said quietly and moved back to where he had been sitting by the counter just before Branzy stood up, the atmosphere turning from lighthearted and fun to uncomfortable and almost oppressive. Branzy’s eyes widened and he turned towards Clown.

“No, no, I’m not mad at you or anything,” he said quickly, “I was just joking.”

Clown shook his head. “I don’t actually need the knife,” he said, “You do, though, right now; I shouldn’t have bothered you about it.” The volume of his voice dropped as he added a last sentence. “‘T’s not like I actually wanted it in the first place anyway.”

Branzy frowned. Before he had played along with Clown’s denial of wanting the knife, but now it sounded… serious and like Clown was actually trying to convince Branzy and himself. He shook his head.

“You don’t have to lie, Clown,” he said, stepping closer and tried to gently put his hand on Clown’s shoulder in a comforting manner, but it fell through the immaterialised body. Branzy took back his hand before Clown solidified in front of him, which Branzy interpreted as permission to try again. “It’s okay, seriously, it was all in good fun.”

“No I’m… I’m not lying,” Clown said quietly and it didn’t sound like a lie, “I just wanted your attention, really, I don’t really care about the knife that much. It’s just some knife . The only thing that makes it special is that you have it and me pretending to want it gave me an easy way to get and keep your attention. Seriously, as if I care about a dull eating knife.”

Branzy’s breath halted and he swallowed thickly. “You can just talk to me, you know that, right?” he asked slowly. He didn’t want Clown to feel like he had to go to those lengths just to get his attention.

“I know,” Clown said, quiet as ever, “I know. I just… It seemed delightful to me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t, swee-...ell clown, swell clown, yes,” Branzy said, barely catching himself before accidentally dropping the pet name, “You didn’t upset me. I was just joking, don’t worry, you’re delightful.”

“Oh, okay, that’s good,” Clown answered, a soft smile decorating his face before turning into an evil, demonic scowl. “Now gimme the knife!”

“Aaaaaaa!” Branzy ‘screamed’, half laughing as he quickly got the knife from the table and handed it to Clown. “Here you go, here you go, please don’t shoot me!”

Clown laughed deviously. “That’s right,” he said, “You’re going to do as I say or I will shoot you with this knife!”

“I will, I will, my liege,” Branzy said frantically, pretending to be scared, “Please, don’t do anything drastic.”

“Hm,” Clown said dramatically, “Fine. Since you asked so nicely, I’m going to kill this family of dinos instead.”

With that, he plunged the knife into one of the dino nuggies, slicing it clean in half. Branzy snickered at Clown’s theatrics, took one half with his noodle-filled fork and ate it.

“Wow,” Clown said, “You really don’t care about dinosaurs, do you?”

Branzy finished chewing his dino nuggie before speaking. “I do,” he said, “They will live on in my stomach and they love it, it’s basically heaven to them.”

“Huh,” Clown murmured, “Well I suppose you’re not as immoral, then. But I think that phenomenon should be scientifically investigated.”

“Oh, I sure hope you’re not planning on cutting open my stomach to do that, then,” Branzy commented and mentally slapped himself for saying something like that while eating . After all, he had a very… active imagination and vividly imagined everything he said or heard. And his sliced open stomach wasn’t a very apetizing sight to think of.

“Oh no, that’d kill you, Branzy,” Clown said, sounding genuinely scandalised, “I don’t want to kill you; I like you too much for that.”

Branzy put down his fork. “So if you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t mind killing me for scientific purposes?” he asked and Clown nodded.

“Yep,” he said happily, “Science is delightful, after all. But don’t worry – I like you far too much for that, I like you a whole lot.”

Branzy smiled slightly. That was actually quite wholesome. Well, if you ignored Clown (once again) referencing his slightly murderous tendencies. But that was just Clown’s slightly silly personality, nothing to worry about.

“That’s nice,” Branzy said, still smiling, “I like you a whole lot, too, Clown.”

Clown smiled brightly and cut through another dino nuggie without even looking. It was a little concerning, but Branzy would be a lot more concerned, had Clown a physical body he could hurt on accident. Still, it was a little scary how good Clown was at perfectly slicing something open without even looking. 

Branzy decided, though, that it didn’t matter and just ate the newly halved dino nuggies with sauced noodles. 

Once he had finished his food, Branzy decided to go to his room and work on his assignments, Clown trailing after him. 

In his room, he immediately sat down by his desk and opened his laptop, watching in the reflection as Clown float-climbed up on the shelf with the plastic vase he had knocked down so often when they hadn’t really known each other yet.

“You like it up there?” Branzy asked, smiling slightly as he watched Clown nod in the reflection.

“I do,” the ghost confirmed, “I can see everything from up here.”

Branzy smiled before logging into his account and opening his first assignment to work on it. As he worked, he occasionally glanced back at Clown, who had started scribbling in his journal before seemingly deciding he was done and taking a nap. It was a little silly, Clown napping on the highest shelf and curled up like a human-sized ghostly cat, and Branzy really had to exercise a whole lot of self control to not watch and/or aggressively cuddle Clown instead of doing his assignment.

Branzy actually managed to get through maybe three fourths of his assignment, before he was rudely interrupted by his phone ringing. That was weird, especially considering that his phone was set to silent mode, the reason why his phone wasn’t exploding with texts from his groupchat with Rek and Chief and the EchoCraft groupchat. So how and who was calling him?

Branzy put aside that question and hurried to pick up his phone and silenced it in hopes that it hadn’t woken up Clown already. Only when he saw Clown had only stirred a little, did he check who was calling him.

The caller ID said ‘It’s swagging time’ and Branzy sighed in exasperation. Of course Ash would find a way to break through silent mode. Glancing at Clown for a second, he considered just ignoring it or hanging up, but ultimately decided to answer the call for fear of Ash calling him over and over again or breaking into his flat until he’d react.

“Hi?” Branzy asked after he accepted the call and was greeted by a bunch of glitched out, laggy sounds. “Ash?”

It took a few seconds, but Ash’s voice finally came through. “Branzy,” he said over the phone, voice flat (though Branzy wasn’t sure if that was the quality, Ash’s normal voice or Ash being annoyed), “It’s good to hear from you. See, your maths notes kinda cut off halfway through a section. What’s up with that?”

Branzy nervously bit his bottom lip. He was going to tell Ash that he had to wait until his part of the deal was complete. He just really hoped Ash wouldn’t murder him or get him to send the notes anyways.

“Well,” he started, trying to play off his nervousness with faux confidence, “Since I have no way of knowing that you’re telling the truth about your information, I will be withholding the second half of the notes until you have fulfilled your part of the deal. A leverage of sorts, if you will.”

Ash hummed and Branzy prayed that he was not about to make plans to take and/or ruin his life.

 “Well, I guess that’s fair enough…” Ash said after a few seconds, “Fine, then. You’re gonna give me the other half the moment I give you your information tomorrow, got it?”

“Mhm,” Branzy responded, “Yeah, I can do that.”

“A’ight, see you tomorrow, then,” Ash said, “Nine thirty at the huge fucking tree.”

“Yeah, I’ll-” Branzy started but was interrupted by the sound of Ash hanging up, “...see you tomorrow. Son of a…!”

Branzy let out a small, aggravated sound, but just sat back down and put away his phone. “Sure, just be impolite, then, and hang up on me without saying bye or letting me finish saying bye,” he muttered angrily, “No biggie!”

Then he sighed and forced himself to calm down a little. There was nothing he’d get out of being salty right now and he still had an assignment to finish. Besides, Clown was still napping and Branzy didn’t want to wake him up or have him wake up while he was still pissed as he 1) didn’t want to upset Clown and 2) didn’t want to waste precious his Clown-time being upset. Nor did he want to waste too much of it on assignments and bore Clown too much. After all, who’d know what that silly, devious little demo- ghost would get up to if Branzy let him get too bored? Probably just burn down the entire planet.

So he sat back down and continued working on his assignment.

About maybe twenty minutes later, at nine fifteen, Branzy finished the last part of his assignment, saved it and closed his laptop before standing up. Just as he turned around and towards the door, there was a swooshing sound and Clown appeared in front of him.

“Branzy,” he said quietly, heterochromic eyes burning into Branzy’s.

“Hey Clown,” Branzy said back, smiling softly and holding up his hand in a small wave. Clown’s eyes closed shut and the ghost pushed the top of his head into Branzy’s hand, kind of like a cat asking to be pet. Branzy couldn’t stop his smile from widening at that, instead gently carding his fingers through Clown’s soft hair and massaging his scalp. In response, the ghost just hummed and further pushed his head against Branzy’s hand.

Something inside of Branzy burned at that; burned at making Clown happy or- well, whatever this was. It felt good to be capable of this; of being close enough with Clown for him to actively want Branzy to pet him and of doing it well . It made Branzy feel all mushy and warm inside, like all he was meant to do was cuddle with and be comfortable for Clown. It was honestly a little strange how someone with such a cold body was capable of making Branzy feel so warm. Warm enough for the both of them.

Branzy smiled softly and moved his hand so that he was still petting Clown but could look at his face. The ghost’s expression was one of comfortable bliss, but Branzy couldn’t help but notice the blood trickling down the pretty face. Branzy moved his hand a little and sure enough, the bandage was red with blood again. Jesus, at this rate, Branzy would have to file for bankruptcy just with how many bandages he was using for Clown. But looking down at Clown’s content expression, Branzy couldn’t help but think it was worth it. He’d still have to come up with a good solution for that, though.

“Hey Clown?” Branzy asked, continuing when the ghost’s eyes opened and focussed on him, “Do you want me to redo your bandage before we go to bed?”

Clown seemed to think for a second before nodding. “I would appreciate that, yes,” he murmured, “Then we can cuddle?”

“And then we can cuddle, yes,” Branzy said, an amused smile on his face, “Now, let’s go to the bathroom.”

Clown gave Branzy a quick, soft smile, then turned around and walked through the door, causing Branzy to let out a small snort before following him. On his way out, Branzy picked up his dental hygiene stuff, so he could brush his teeth right after changing Clown’s bandages for more efficiency (so he could be in bed and cuddle with Clown sooner).

In the bathroom, Branzy found Clown already sitting atop the closed toilet, kicking his legs a little. Branzy couldn’t help but smile slightly as he got a fresh bandage from his med kit. He only had two more after that one. That was going to be a problem, wasn’t it?

Deciding to think about that later, maybe while cuddling with Clown or something, he set down the bandage on the small table and carefully and slowly moved to remove Clown’s bandage. It was all bloody and felt a little sticky, uncomfortable against Branzy’s fingers as he walked over to the bin to dispose of it. But when he opened the bin just far enough to toss it in, he – weirdly enough – saw clean bandages inside. Or, well, as clean as they could be in the bin. Point was, they seemed to be entirely free of blood. Which was weird because Branzy was certain he had not thrown away any clean bandages. Maybe Clown had? Branzy personally doubted it, but he supposed there was no harm in making sure.

“Hey Clown?” Branzy asked and Clown hummed in acknowledgement, his gaze already locked onto him, “Did you throw away clean bandages.”

Clown yawned quietly before responding. “No,” he said, “I did no such thing. The only discarded bandages I was even in relation to were bloodied and certainly not clean.”

Branzy nodded shortly. “Thought so,” he said, bringing up a hand to rub at his chin, “The question is where they came from, then. Beca- Unless! Unless those are the same ones I threw away and the blood, like, I don’t know, faded. I mean, it’s not in this realm, right?”

“Yes, I do believe that that is plausible,” Clown said quietly, eyes locked onto the bandage Branzy was still holding, “We should test that. Leave the bloodied bandage and see if it fades.”

Branzy nodded slowly and hung the bandage over the shower curtain line before looking back at Clown, who was using the balls of his palms to wipe at the blood, maybe trying to keep it from flowing onto his face any more than it already had. Branzy frowned empathetically and quickly cleaned his hands before taking a wet rag and using it to carefully clean Clown’s face and wound again. 

Branzy couldn’t help but smile as the blood got off and he revealed Clown’s frankly beautiful face. Branzy knew he had thought it time and time again, but he just found Clown so insanely beautiful – more beautiful than he had thought a man could be. As much as Branzy was a man-lover – a man-kisser, even –, from his experience he had found that men typically had a certain limit on beauty. But then again Clown wasn’t just any man, he was ClownPierce and Branzy’s close friend and roommate. Of course he wasn’t restricted to a certain limit of beauty.

Feeling his cheeks heating up, Branzy decided to push away that thought and move on to dressing Clown’s wound, trying to be as careful and gentle as possible. Had he not been so focussed on Clown’s reactions as to not accidentally hurt him, he probably would have missed how the ghost ever so subtly leaned into his hands without disrupting Branzy. A small smile made its way on Branzy’s face and he moved his left hand just a little so that Clown could lean into it more with Branzy still being able to take care of the wound properly. It was really sweet and soft and Branzy thought he might explode or maybe melt from the amount of love affection he was feeling for the ghost. But he didn’t squeal or squeeze or shower Clown in hugs and kisses and declarations of love, but just smiled softly, instead, as he worked on bandaging the wound. He wouldn’t want to startle and/or make Clown uncomfortable, after all.

It was an excruciating process, but eventually Branzy finished his work without any outward expression of the ‘cuteness’ aggression he was experiencing and smothed over the bandage one last time.

“There we go,” he said softly, keeping his left hand against Clown’s head, “I’m done. Better?”

Clown opened his eyes again, thinking shortly before nodding, and only then Branzy realised that Clown had closed his eyes in the first place.

“Yes, thank you,” Clown murmured, a hint of a smile ghosting (ha, ghost ing) on his face, “Feels a lot better.”

Branzy’s smile brightened a little and he opened his mouth with the intention to say something along the lines of ‘You are so welcome. Also, wow you’re so beautiful and great and literally perfect and I’m honestly so in love with you.’, when suddenly, Clown tilted his head a little more up before essentially diving forward and pressing a kiss to Branzy’s cheek, effectively stopping Branzy from getting out anything but a small stuttered sound. Factory resetting him, perhaps.

It took him a bit to fully comprehend what had even just happened, but the moment he did, Branzy’s cheeks were burning . Clown had just kissed him . On the cheek, yes, but it was- Clown had kissed him . 

“What-? Wh- what just-? Huh?” Branzy spluttered, feeling strongly flustered. Had he been paying better attention, he would have noticed the nervous but devious smile Clown was wearing, but excuse him for being a little distracted by the fact that Clown had just kissed him .

“What’s wrong?” Clown asked, smiling innocently now, “Are you okay?”

“I’m- Gosh, yes, I’m fine, Clown,” Branzy said, stumbling over his words, “I just. You kissed me. Uh- on the cheek, but still.”

Clown tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly. “Was I not supposed to?” he asked slowly. “I thought it was normal to kiss someone on the cheek if you like them a lot. Is it not?”

Branzy’s cheeks got even hotter at that. Clown liked him? A lot ? Branzy knew Clown meant it platonically, but he couldn’t help but think of it in a romantic way; couldn’t help but want it to be romantic. And it was so sweet how Clown showed his platonic feelings for Branzy in such a sweet gesture of affection, it made Branzy want to scream; made him know that he’d kill for the guy and that there would be nothing stopping him from ending the entire world if Clown did anything more because he couldn’t handle the feelings Clown made him feel.

Branzy cut off his train of thought when he realised he still hadn’t responded yet and forced himself to calm down, take a few breaths before answering. 

“No, no, it is,” he said, smiling softly, “It’s just usually interpreted as more, uh… romantic?”

Clown blinked. “So is it okay for me to kiss you or not?” he asked. “Because I want to show you that I like you.”

“Oh, you can kiss me all you want,” Branzy said, trying his best (and failing) not to think about romantic kisses on his lips instead of his cheek, “I don’t mind. It’s sweet, really.”

Clown smiled happily and quickly pressed another kiss to Branzy’s cheek. “There,” he said, “I like you a lot.”

Branzy smiled softly and leaned a little closer. “I like you a lot, too,” he said, trying to contain his love and keep it from completely filling his voice, and pressed a soft kiss to Clown’s forehead just below the edge of the bandage.

Clown pressed his eyes shut in a smile before pressing and snuggling his head against Branzy’s shoulder.

“I like you a very, very, very lot,” he murmured, voice dreamy and just dripping with pure emotions, “I want nothing but to be with you, Branzy, I cannot- I just like you so much.”

Branzy’s heart melted but simultaneously got closer and closer to actually exploding, maybe. He loved this so much. Clown’s words were so- so much. He just told Branzy that he wanted to stay with him forever . Branzy… Branzy wanted that, too, so much. Almost too much.

It was the time that was making them so emotional, that’s what Branzy told himself. 

(Deep down he knew, though, that it was a lie. Partially, at least. The atmosphere of the evening, the tiredness definitely amplified how explicitly and intensely they were expressing their emotions, but his emotions, at least, were always present. No matter the time he loved Clown more than anything, wanted to be his lover, wanted this to be forever. He just wasn’t ready to fully admit that to himself yet.)

So he just smiled softly and petted Clown’s head. 

“You wanna head to bed soon?” he asked and Clown nodded against Branzy’s hand. 

“I’d like that,” Clown murmured, looking at Branzy through barely open lids. 

Branzy’s smile got bigger and he brushed his hand over the top of Clown’s head once more before pulling it back, causing the ghost to frown and fully open his eyes again. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Branzy said lightly, “I gotta brush my teeth. You can either go ahead and get into bed or stay here with me while I do that.”

Clown’s frown deepened before his expression turned more neutral and he nodded. 

“I’ll go to your bedchamber, then,” he said and moved to turn away but stilled for a second. Then he nodded to himself and quickly pressed a kiss to Branzy’s cheek before slipping through the ajar door and with that out of Branzy’s vision. 

Branzy just stood there, unmoving, for a few seconds before slowly bringing a hand to the spot Clown had kissed. It felt like it was burning, whether from the touch or blush Branzy wasn’t sure. Then his previously soft and fond smile turned into one that’d make it clear to anyone that he was barely suppressing a squeal. 

Originally, he had been a teeny tiny bit disappointed — just a twinge, really — that Clown decided to go to his room instead of staying right with Branzy, but that was immediately forgotten through the kiss on the cheek. Instead, Branzy’s heartbeat quickened with giddiness, causing him to just stand there, unmoving, for maybe up to three or four minutes.

Then Branzy remembered that Clown was waiting for him and decided to hurry up and get to brushing his teeth already so that he could go and cuddle with Clown as soon as humanly possible and not make the other wait for too long. So he half-rushed through the steps of brushing his teeth before walking back to his room, where Clown was curled up on his bed, waiting for him.

Branzy wanted nothing more but to climb into bed with and hold the ghost, but as he was about to, he realised he was still wearing his day clothes and would have to change into his sleepwear first.

Sighing softly, Branzy opened his closet and took out a hoodie and sweats, before turning to Clown.

“I’m gonna go change real quick,” he said, “I’ll be with you in a second.”

Clown nodded shortly. “Okay,” he murmured, “I’ll be here.”

Branzy smiled and allowed himself to pet Clown’s head and press a short kiss to it before going to the bathroom, where he changed into his sleepwear as quickly as possible without slipping, falling and potentially dying.

After he managed to finish his clothes changing 100% speedrun without dying, he quickly got back to his room, where he put his clothes away, before getting into bed.

“There,” he said quietly as he got under the blanket and wrapped his arms around Clown, suppressing a yawn, “Now we can cuddle and sleep.”

Clown smiled softly before burying his face in Branzy’s shoulder, humming quietly in content. 

“Good night, Br’nzy,” he murmured, already sounding half-asleep. Branzy smiled and brought a hand up to Clown’s hair, carding his fingers through it.

“Good night Clown,” he responded and closed his eyes. Clown quietly mumbled something that ended in ‘you’, but Branzy couldn’t quite catch it and he was too sleepy to try and ask Clown to repeat himself.

With his hand in Clown’s hair and his body around Clown’s, it didn’t take long for him to drift off.

He pulls back from the kiss almost reluctantly, wanting the other man’s lips to linger on his. But they don’t have much time until they have to be at the party again so no suspicions of a trap or their relationships would arise. Branzy wants nothing more but to continue kissing —---- for hours – or eternity, for that matter – but they truly can’t afford to be caught like this.

No matter how good, how right this feels, the general public thinks differently; thought two men together is the worst it can get. So if the two get caught showing their affection for each other, not only would their reputation be tarnished and ———-’ casino shut down, but the two would indubitably be executed – if they weren’t murdered before that could happen. So, truly, they can not risk it.

Branzy sighs. “I wish we didn’t need to hide to do this,” he murmurs, still holding the other man close, “I wish I could kiss you in public and no one’d bat an eye.”

“So do I, dear,” the other responds, gently laying his forehead against Branzy’s, “But it’s not time yet. One day we’ll be able to kiss anywhere we like. One day, I promise that, Branzy.”

“I can’t wait,” Branzy murmurs, “I want to marry you someday. Show the world how much I am in love with you, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”

The man smiles. “We will,” he says, gazing into Branzy’s eyes, “Our time will come, one day. We’ll be allowed to love. I’m sure of it.”

The softness, the love in ———-‘ eyes is so much, almost too much, never enough. Branzy is sure that — if he could; if they didn’t have to go back to the party — he could get lost in his lover’s beautiful eyes; could be happy with just looking into them forever. They were so beautiful: dilated pupils in a —-, —------- —- surrounded by deep —--. They were so loving, so ———-.

“I love you,” Branzy whispers and it all begins to slowly fade away; fade to black. 

Chapter Text

—---- and him are lying in the soft grass of a meadow near the forest outside of town. It’s late summer, he thinks, so the night air is a little chilly. His woolen clothes and his lover by his side keep him warm, though. The stars look different than they usually do, he thinks, but doesn’t feel off. It’s all the way it’s meant to be.

He looks to his right and sees —---- already looking at him, a soft smile on his lips. Love pumps through Branzy’s veins and he wants nothing more than to stay in this moment forever. Distantly, he hears insects buzzing and the rustling of leaves. It’s perfect, he thinks, this is perfect. He doesn’t jump when something touches his shoulder, because —---- and him are one. Instead, he turns to lay on his side to get a little closer, lean into the touch some more.

“I’ve been thinking…” —---- says quietly and looks back up, up at the stars. Branzy waits patiently for him to continue, intently watching his face. It’s a little blurry, but he knows it’s beautiful. ———-‘ eyes are looking up without movement. In general, he is unmoving, safe for the steady rising and falling of his chest as he breathes. In the distance, Branzy hears a bird sing its last song for the night and a few crickets chirp. The kind scent of the flowers and the forest fills the air and, in combination with the sounds of the summer night forest, brings a sort of calmness into the atmosphere. It feels safe.

Only when his eyes start drooping, he realises that his lover still hasn’t answered.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks into the summer air. The little bit of light that comes from the moon and stars illuminates the scene, illuminates the beautiful man next to him, casting a faint glow on his face and highlighting it as he turns his head to look at him.

“Oh, nothing in particular,” he murmurs, his beautiful, non-descript eyes looking directly in Branzy’s, “I just wish it could always be this simple. I love you, Branzy.”

Branzy’s breath hitches and he moves a little closer. “Me too, Darling,” he murmurs as he brings his hand up to his lover’s cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

His lover now looks at him with a lovestruck expression and leans into his hand, fixing it there with his own.

“Please do,” he breathes. Branzy swallows slightly and leans even closer, closing his eyes once his beloved reciprocates. He can almost feel —----’ lips on his already, at least his warm breath, but just before they can meet in the middle –

At 7:30 AM precisely, the pear alarm sound rang through Branzy’s bedroom, pulling him out of his sleep far earlier than he would have liked. He could’ve sworn he had almost felt that… that man’s lips. It really wasn’t fair. He wrangles himself out of the sheets and pushes his phone’s snooze button a tad harder than he had to before throwing himself back onto his bed and staring at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars that were making a mockery of the proper stars in his dream, of him. He could almost still feel that mystery man’s body against his own, could almost still hear the crickets, the birds, the everything.

A deep sigh escaped him and he pressed the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. Why did he have to wake up? And just right before he would have gotten that kiss?

“Branzy?” a slightly-concerned voice asked, interrupting his miserable thoughts, “Are you… ‘swagging’?”

Branzy removed his hands from his face and opened his eyes, glancing to his side where Clown was sitting and looking down at him with a translucent, concerned-confused expression. Branzy snorted at that.

“‘Swagging’?” he asked and raised an eyebrow, watching Clown’s ears redden a little.

“‘Swagging’,” Clown repeated. “That very… interesting violet individual you conversed with yesterday asked someone that after your conversation. Is it not, uh, a colloquial way of asking about one’s well-being?”

Branzy couldn’t help but actually laugh at that. Of course Clown picked that up from Ash and just assumed it was a normal phrase. To be fair, though, Branzy imagined that most phrases Clown now heard on a daily basis were at least a little new to him but completely normal to everyone else, so he couldn’t really blame Clown for assuming another phrase was normal when it was just Ashswaggian.

“No, it’s– I don’t know, it might be,” Branzy replied, “But no one aside from Ash says that. He’s a little– nay, very insane.”

“Ah,” Clown said, nodding slowly, “I suppose that makes a little sense.”

Branzy nodded, too. “Well, to answer your question,” he said, “I’m alright, don’t worry. I was just a little frustrated that I woke up before I was done with my dream, you know?”

Clown nodded again. “Yeah, I imagine that that would be rather narking,” he said, “I hope you get to finish your dream soon, Branzy.”

Branzy’s lips turned upwards, forming a soft smile. “Thanks Clown,” he said and sat up to pet Clown’s head. Clown leaned a little closer and pushed his head into Branzy’s hand some more.

“Why do you keep that thing when it keeps waking you before you want and causing you so much anguish?” Clown asked, then, “Are you scared of it? I can kill it for you, if you want me to.”

Branzy laughed softly. “Thanks for the offer, Clown, but I actually need it to wake me up on time,” he said, “I appreciate your concern, though.”

Clown frowned up at him. “But it makes you upset and causes you pain,” he said, “I don’t want you to be upset and in pain.”

“Awe, Clown, that’s so sweet of you,” Branzy cooed, resisting the urge of aggressively cuddling Clown by gently kissing his forehead once instead. “But really, it’s fine. I gotta go to school, after all.”

Clown didn’t stop frowning but nodded. “If you say so…” he said quietly, “If you ever change your mind, though, immediately tell me and I will take care of it.”

Branzy smiled. “Thanks Clown,” he said, “Now… How about we change your bandages and then eat breakfast? Grilled cheese, maybe?”

Clown nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, “We can do that.”

Branzy allowed himself to kiss Clown’s forehead again before leaving the room and walking to the bathroom, Clown following right behind. 

Inside the bathroom, Clown immediately sat down on the toilet seat and Branzy went to get the med kit for a fresh bandage, but Clown stopped him.

“We don’t need a new bandage, Branzy,” he said, pointing to the shower curtain line “The one from yesterday is clean again.”

Branzy turned to look at the curtain line and – just as Clown had said – the bandage hanging on it was white and clean. That was good. So no more ‘wasting’ bandages.

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll use that one, then,” he said and took it down before coming back to Clown and taking off his bloody bandage. He quickly hung it over the curtain line, where the other bandage had previously been hanging.

Afterwards, he took a wet rag and started cleaning the ghost’s bloody face. By now it was a familiar routine and all of the steps came to him easily. And naturally, as he went through them, his thoughts drifted to the man of his dreams – literally, the man he kept dreaming of. Was he just gay and desperate for love or was there something more to this man, these dreams after all? And why on God’s mostly blue but also green Earth did the dream always end right before he and mystery man could kiss? Think about that , liberal.

And why was mystery man so obviously based on Clown?! – Actually, don’t answer that, don’t even think about that. There was no reason, it was just because Branzy had been spending so much time with Clown. No other reason.

Branzy set down the rag and started dressing Clown’s wound. Seriously, how could someone want to hurt Clown, especially in such a harsh and ugly way?! Clown was so sweet and loving and genuinely the best person Branzy had ever met and he could never even imagine hurting Clown, much less wanting to kill him. Because that wound was definetely intended to be lethal.

Branzy couldn’t help but cup Clown’s face with both of his hands once he was finished with the bandage and make deep eye contact with the ghost. He distantly noticed the way Clown’s eyes widened and ears reddened slightly, but he couldn’t be bothered to think.

“I’m so sorry, Clown, sweetheart,” he murmured and pressed his lips to Clown’s forehead, “I can’t believe someone could ever do that to you.”

“...Um… What?” Clown asked after a few seconds and Branzy pulled back to see his confused expression.

“Hurt you like that,” Branzy explained, “You don’t deserve that.”

“How do you know?” Clown asked, expression a mixture of unbothered and vaguely uncomfortable, “And why are you saying that now ?”

Branzy frowned and leaned back further, letting his hands fall down to Clown’s and take them in his. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Of course you don’t deserve to be hurt like that. I just really… can’t believe that anyone could ever hate you enough to hurt– no, kill you like that. I can’t believe that anyone could hate you.”

“I can,” Clown stated quietly and Branzy’s heart sank. He held Clown’s hands a little tighter and pulled the ghost closer.

“I can’t,” he whispered, “You’re wonderful.”

“You’re perfect,” Clown whispered back and laid his head on Branzy’s shoulder, “You’re everything. I’d say I’d die for you, but frankly, I don’t know if I am even capable of dying as I am now.”

Branzy snorted. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m glad. Because I very much prefer you right by my side.”

Branzy could feel Clown smile against his bare neck and he couldn’t help but smile, too. A light but impossibly heavy feeling that he couldn’t identify filled him as he threaded his fingers through Clown’s hair. Maybe fondness.

Then Clown leaned back and looked up at him. Fuck, Branzy wanted to kiss him so badly right now– What?

“When are you planning for us to leave for, uh, uni?” Clown asked. “Because you should eat and do your things in time before that.”

“Ash asked me to meet him at 9:30, so we have to take the train at 8:53,” he explained and looked at the old clock by the door. 7:30, plus-minus three to five minutes. That meant… “We have maybe an hour until we’ll have to leave for the train.”

Clown nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said, “The bandage is done, so you could eat now.”

Branzy smiled softly and gave Clown another forehead kiss. “Alright then,” he said as he stood up straight, “I’m just gonna wash my hands, then I’ll make us some grilled cheeses.”

Clown smiled and stood up, too, waiting for Branzy to wash his hands, then following Branzy as he walked to the kitchen. In the kitchen, Branzy went straight to the stove and put two doppeldecker toasts with a slice of cheese imbetween the top and bottom halves of each in a pan. A few minutes and some cooking magic later, he took out two plates on which he put the grilled cheeses and set them on the counter.

“There we go,” he said mostly to himself, before looking at Clown, who was looking at his grilled cheese with a curious expression. “Go ahead.”

Clown nodded slowly and gingerly took his grilled cheese. Branzy started eating his grilled cheese as he fondly watched Clown inspect the food before carefully trying it. He watched as the ghost’s eyebrows rose, then furrowed, then rose again until they finally returned to their usual form.

Clown hummed once he swallowed his first bite. “‘T’s good,” he said, “I like it.”

Branzy smiled softly. “I’m glad you like it,” he said. The two continued their meal in silence for about five minutes, until both of the grilled cheeses fully disappeared.

Afterwards, Branzy changed into outside clothes before going over his assignments again (watching Clown scribble in his journal) until they’d have to leave.

When it was finally time, the two left the apartment complex and walked to the train station, where they got on the train to uni.

About half an hour later, Branzy walked through the gate of his uni. Instead of walking to his Electrical Engineering class, though, he walked around the building, where a big, ginormous, massive, tremendous, titanic, even, tree was. When he got there, it was 9:26 and Ash wasn’t there yet, so Branzy leaned against the tree, waiting for him.

At precisely 9:30, Branzy looked around for any sign of his friend the evil chaos man but it was to no avail; Ash wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Maybe he was running late?

“Boo,” said a voice behind Branzy, then, scaring the living hell out of him, which caused him to jump and accidentally punch the person belonging to the voice in the face. Only after he had finished his panicked reaction did he realise who he accidentally punched in the face.

“You know, I would be pissed off that you punched me in my beautiful face,” Ash said as he stood back up straight and Branzy’s blood ran cold in fear , “but honestly I’m impressed that you can punch that good. So I’ll forgive you this once.”

“I-” Branzy stammered, horrified, “I’m so sorry, Ash, I just- you scared me.”

Ash snorted. “No biggie,” he said, grinning, “I’m proud of you, man, you’re learning how to beat up people. Just… refrain from punching me in the face from now on, especially when we’re trading. That’s meant to be a point of neutrality, Branzy.”

Branzy slowly nodded along. “Uh-huh,” he said, “Yeah. Now, about your end of the deal…”

“Right, straight to business, I can respect that,” Ash said, “I have the good stu– wait, no, the information you asked for.”

Branzy blinked. “Wait, what did you mean by ‘good stuff?” he asked, a little unsure what to make of this.

“Oh nothing,” Ash said nonchalantly, “Just some ancient to antique to retro weapons, potions, jewlery, scriptures, recipes, anything. Not what you asked for, though. For you I have information.”

Branzy stared at Ash for a solid few seconds, a little uncomfortable, but nodded slowly. “Right, yeah,” he said. “So, what do you know?”

“Not much,” Ash said, shrugging. Branzy’s eyebrows furrowed and he felt a little anger rise up in him at just being toyed with like that.

“What?” he asked. “That better be a joke.”

Ash laughed. “It’s not, I know next to nothing about ClownPierce and his Cascircus,” he said.

“But you– you said you had information that would help me!” Branzy spluttered. “What happened to that?”

“Ah-ah-ah, you just asked about what I know,” Ash said, “Like I said, I know next to nothing. I never read ‘QUEER 19TH CENTURY’ by Historia Geschichtsunterricht. Redd, however, has. He went to look up ClownPierce’s Casino of Chaos like you did for more info afterwards, but got the same results: none. But, you know, he did read the book, so I’m sure he has something that’ll help fill your thirst for knowledge or whatever else might be the reason you’re so obsessively ‘researching’ it.”

Branzy’s eyebrows furrowed. “So you d on’t have the info,” he said slowly. “That’s what you’re saying?”

Ash hummed. “Well, I do have the info that Redd knows something,” he said, smirking, “And that whatever he read was interesting enough for him to try to further research it. There. I fulfilled my end of the deal. Now it’s your turn, Branzy.”

“Are you serious?” Branzy asked before his fear of Ashswag’s wrath could stop him, “You expect me to just accept that you don’t have any actual information?”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “But I do,” he said, strangely calm, “I told you where you can get relevant information about that circus-casino-thing you’re so interested in. Now, I would highly appreciate it if you could complete your end of the deal.”

Branzy bit his cheek. He was pissed (rightfully so!!), but Ash was… somewhat right. Whatever Redd had read about Clown’s casino must have been very important if it made him try to research it more. It probably didn’t say anything about Clown’s personal identity, but it would probably be more than he had right now. Besides, he was a little scared worried about what Ash’d do to him if he didn’t give him the other half of the notes.

So he just sighed. “Fine,” he said and took out his laptop, “I’ll send you the notes. Not happy though. Two out of five stars for this exchange.”

The last part was mostly just added as a petty gesture, but Ash’s expression dropped.

“Hey, wait,” he said urgently. “Is there something I could do to make you feel better about this exchange and maybe push your rating to a, hm.. Five?”

“What?” Branzy asked, insanely confused.

“Do you know what a two out of five rating will do to my overall rating?” Ash asked. “Listen, You can’t destroy my business like that.”

“...Your business will be destroyed by one bad rating?” Branzy asked incredulously, but Ash ignored him.

“Just think about this some more, yeah?” Ash asked and Branzy almost automatically nodded, watching in confusion as Ash left.

“What on Earth…?”

The moment that Physics ended at 1:35 PM, Branzy burst outside through the door, leaving his confused classmates behind and magically(?) ‘dragging’ an even more confused Clown with him. But he had no time to explain or act normal; he had a red Economics major to hunt down, after all. As far as he knew Redd Reddoons never stayed on campus for long after his last class ended and it would end in literally five minutes, so Branzy really had to hurry, so he could catch him in time. 

Miraculously, he made it to the building Redd’s last class was in just as the weirdly over- and underdressed man walked out and towards the gates.

“Redd!” Branzy shouted, which he immediately regretted because the icy air made his lungs hurt, he probably looked and sounded very stupid and because everyone in a fifteen meter radius of him turned to look at him. But it did the trick because Redd was one of them and stopped in his tracks.

“Branzy?” he asked when Branzy finally reached him, “What’s… What are you doing?”

Branzy doubled over, stabilising himself by putting his hands to his knees as he desperately gasped for air. 

“Uh,” Redd said awkwardly and took a step back. “Branzy?”

Branzy held up one of his hands as a signal for Redd to wait a little. He took a few more deep breaths before coughing and standing up straight.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, trying to play it cool, “I was just trying to catch you before you disappeared into nowhere.”

Redd nodded slowly. “...Uh-huh,” he said. “And why exactly did you have to ‘catch me before I disappeared into nowhere’?”

“Well,” Branzy said, “I’m doing some… research and Ash told me you had some information on what I’m researching.”

Redd pulled a pocket watch out of the slit pocket of his obnoxious red suit jacket and glanced at it.

“Alright, tell me what you need to know,” he said, “Make it quick though, there is somewhere I need to be.”

Branzy nodded, surpressing the urge to call out Redd on his ominous dramatique. “Right,” he said, glancing at Clown, who was standing a few meters away, dodging the students who were walking into him, “Ash said you know something about, uh, ClownPierce’s Circus of Chaos? Read a book on it?”

Redd nodded along. “Well, ‘a book on it’ is slightly exaggerated, it only had two pages on the circus, but yeah,” he said, “I can let you borrow the book — for free, only because you seem so desperate it’s actually sad —, but I’ll need it back pretty soon.”

Branzy’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, thanks,” he said, a little surprised at how easy this conversation was. “When-?”

Redd visibly cringed as he interrupted him. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I really need to get going,” he said and turned more toward the gate.

Branzy nodded. “When can I borrow it, though?” he asked quickly, hoping Redd had at least time for that, “Do you have it with you right now?”

Redd just shook his head and turned. “It’ll be with you by sundown,” was all that he very ominously said before he disappeared from Branzy’s sight.

“That was ominous, but okay,” he said to himself.

“What was ominous?” Clown asked as he suddenly appeared right next to him, causing Branzy to almost scream in surprise.

“Jesus, Clown!” he whisper-shouted, “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Oh, sorry,” Clown apologised, “I didn’t mean to scare you. What was that about? I kind of got distracted.”

Branzy smiled softly. “It’s fine,” he said, “I might tell you later, when we’re home.”

Clown nodded and followed Branzy to the campus gates, where they— no, where Branzy got ambushed by Chief and Rek. 

“Branzy!” Chief said loudly, grabbing Branzy’s shoulder, “Where were you?! We were waiting for you for an entire five minutes!”

Branzy jumped and turned to Chief (and with that to Rek). “Wh- Huh?”

“Wow, he really did forget about us,” Rek said, then, “It’s over for us, Chief.”

“ What ?” Branzy asked, a little overwhelmed. Rek shook his head disapprovingly.

“It’s Tuesday,” he said, “We eat in the cafeteria together on Tuesdays. You know that.”

That was… Yeah, that was right. Branzy had completely forgotten about that after the whole ordeal with Redd Reddoons.

“R-right, sorry,” he said almost sheepishly, “Sorry, I had to go talk to Redd and then I kinda forgot what I actually planned to do.”

“You had to talk to Redd?” Rek asked, eyebrows furrowing a little. Branzy was about to make up a plausible explanation that wasn’t the truth, but Chief spoke before he could.

“And what is he doing here?” he asked, pointing to… Clown. He could see– Since when was Clown fully visible?

“Huh?” Branzy let slip out in horror. Chief huffed.

“Well?” he asked offendedly before shaking his head and stomping over to Clown. Branzy wanted to stop him, but truthfully he didn’t know how he was meant to do that.

“Hey there ‘ClownPierce’,” Chief said and Clown turned to him, pointing at himself with a slightly confused expression. All that Branzy could feel in that moment was pure horror. Had Clown even known that he was visible?

“Yes you,” Chief said, crossing his arms, “Listen, just stay away from my Branzy or… I… You… Br- Well… Uh-”

Branzy could make out Clown’s raised eyebrow and almost had to laugh how easily Chief faltered under his subjection to it.

“‘ Your ’ Branzy?” Clown asked calmly. “Last I checked Branzy was his own person.”

Chief flushed a little. “Well- yeah, but he’s my husband,” he said, holding up his gummy ring from the weird toy vending machine, “So.”

“So?” Clown asked.

“So,” Chief said, “So you have to stay away from him. Y-yeah.”

Clown frowned. “Apologies, but I cannot do that,” he said, “Branzy wouldn’t be happy with me if I did that. Branzy’s wellbeing is rather important to me.”

Chief faltered in his rapid fire before standing straight and shoving his index finger against Clown’s chest.

“Well,” he said, “Well, then you’ll have to take me too.”

Branzy blinked in confusion at the sudden change of Chief’s tactic and he could see Rek doing the same.

“What on…” he murmured as he watched the two in front of him.

“Excuse me?” Clown asked and Chief huffed.

“You heard me,” Chief said, “If you’re going to date Branzy, you have to date me too.”

“Huh?!” Rek asked, “What.”

“Uh. I thought you hate me now?” Clown asked. “Which- was rather surprising because last time we talked we seemed to be on at least civil terms.”

Chief hesitated. “Right, I forgot you didn’t know,” he said, “Branzy’s in love with you, which obviously means we’re rivals.”

“…Sure,” Clown said, just as Branzy walked over to them and lightly pushed Chief. 

“Chief,” he said, “Don’t lie to the poor man!”

“I didn’t lie!” Chief tried to defend himself, but Clown shook his head. 

“That somewhat explains the sudden hostility, but what do you mean ‘date’ you ‘too’?” he asked. “I mean, you can be my friend, too, but I’d rather you didn’t antagonise me, then.”

Chief slow-blinked and shook his head. “‘Friend’?” he asked, “Is that what you call it?”

“Well, yes,” Clown said and Branzy was starting to get the feeling that he might not understand what Chief actually meant, “Branzy’s my closest friend.”

Branzy couldn’t help but smile softly, even as Rek stood next to him and (judgmentally) looked at him. 

“Alright,” Chief said after a few seconds, grinning, “Then give me your number and I’ll be your closest friend.”

“But Branzy is my closest friend,” Clown said, frowning. Chief huffed. 

“Just give me a chance,” he insisted, “I’m so much better than Branzy! He doesn’t deserve you. I do, though.”

Branzy just shot a glare at the back of Chief’s head at that, but didn’t interrupt. Chief was just befriending Clown, after all. That was a good thing, really. Well — it could end kind of badly if and when Clown would eventually move on, but Branzy didn’t really see a point in trying to prevent them from being friends. 

“I thought you didn’t want me to be friends with Branzy because you’re, uh… married? to him,” Clown said. “How does your statement just now allign with that?”

Chief sighed. “That’s because Branzy doesn’t deserve us, you, he’s not good enough,” he said in a lighthearted tone, “But I do. I’m good enough for you. So just give me your hand and number and I’ll take you on a date that’ll raise your standards by a mile .”

He held out an offering hand but Clown crossed his arms.

“Branzy is great ,” he said defensively and Branzy’s cheeks warmed, “He’s kind and helpful and delightful and altogether one of – if not the best person I have had the pleasure of meeting. And he’s your friend, too, so why do you speak of him like that? Especially in his presence.”

Clown gestured to Branzy, who gently took his hand.

“He’s not serious,” he said softly, “It’s kind of our friendship dynamic.” He looked directly at Chief, who at least had the decency of looking apologetic and a little ashamed of himself. “Though I’m not very happy with the fact that he’s trying to steal you for himself.”

Clown glanced at Branzy before nodding slightly. “You’re walking on thin ice, Chief Guy,” he said and Chief nodded.

“Alright, ClownPierce,” he said dutifully and Rek snorted next to Branzy. “Can I still have your number though?”

Clown’s eyebrows furrowed. “My… number?” he asked and Branzy cringed slightly.

“Your phone number?” Chief asked back, sounding a little confused, and Clown’s eyes lit up in understanding.

“Oh, I don’t have one of those,” he said bluntly and Branzy wanted to scream into his hands in second hand embarrassment.

“You don’t have a phone number?” Chief asked incredulously and Clown nodded, “How do you no-”

“How about we go eat now?” Branzy suggested, intentionally interrupting Chief and hoping to distract his two living friends, “I don’t really have that much time until I have to go to work.”

Chief, as well as Rek – despite his obvious suspicions and distrust – agreed, so the four walked to the cafeteria, where Chief got an ocean worth of sushi, Branzy got lasagna and Rek got confused.

“Hey, what’s Clown gonna eat?” he asked as he sat down with his own plate of lasagna. “The food here is only for students and–” He looked Clown up and down. “even with the… special …fashion choices of our classmates, I don’t think he’s gonna pass as one of them.”

Chief hummed. “I don’t know,” he said, “he looks like he’d fit right in. I reckon he could just walk up to the counter and no one would question it.”

Clown blinked. “Oh no, don’t worry about me,” he said, “I already ate.”

Branzy frowned. He knew Clown probably didn’t need to eat, but it still felt wrong to just have Clown watch them eat.

“You can have some of my lasagna,” he said, standing up, “Hold on, I’ll get you a fork.”

With that, he left the table and walked over to where the silverware was. There, he took a fork and was briefly distracted by a weird, derpy-looking rock with a grell voice singing in a foreign language, German, maybe. 

“-verträumt und verrückt sein. Na-na-nana-na-na! Danke Lieblingsmensch, schön, dass wir uns kenn’!” it sang and Branzy finally managed to pull himself out of the trance it put him in. 

When he finally returned to the table, he found Chief trying to get Clown to let him feed him sushi, Clown vaguely uncomfortably trying to simultaneously ward of Chief’s attacks with concerns of possible health risks of eating raw animals and answering Rek’s interrogational questions, as well as Rek who was suspiciously asking Clown tons of questions. 

“I leave for three minutes,” Branzy said as he stopped in front of the table, “and you fall into chaos. Especially- Rek, aren’t you supposed to be the organised, normal one?!”

The three immediately quietened down and turned to him with awkward expressions. The first to recover and speak again was Chief. 

“Branzy!” he said. “Can you tell Clown that sushi is perfectly safe to eat?”

Branzy blinked. “If he doesn’t want to eat it let him-“ he said like a normal person before cutting himself off. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Hey, wait!” he said, then. “Why are you trying to force sushi upon Clown?! You never let me have any of your sushi!”

Chief made an expression that seemed like the answer was obvious. “Because he’s my Clown, duh,” he said, “Sorry Cheaterzy, you cheat on me with Clown, I cheat on you with Clown.”

Rek nodded along. “Honestly, yeah, you had that coming,” he said, “Imagine being cheated on with a vampire.”

“A vampire?” Clown asked and Chief turned back to him. 

“He’s talking about you, Darling,” he said, “But don’t listen to him. You’re perfectly beautiful and alive-looking as you are. Maybe a little pale and a peculiar fashion sense, but that doesn’t make you weird- or dead-looking, don’t worry.”

“‘Darling’?” Branzy asked, raising an eyebrow, and Chief smirked.

“Yeah, he’s my husband in progress now, Branzy,” he said, “Can’t wait to have an actually loyal husband.”

“‘Husband in progress’?” Rek repeated. “I’m pretty sure you just call that a fiancé.”

Branzy looked at Clown. “Did he actually ask you?” he asked, “And did you agree?”

Clown nodded. “Yes,” he said, “Apparently, it is not only legal to marry people of the same gender, but also to marry friends, now. Can you believe that, Branzy? We should get married, too.”

Branzy couldn’t help but grin as he finally sat down next to him. “We should,” he agreed, looking Chief, who looked appalled, straight in the eyes. Rek snorted.

“So much for a loyal husband, huh Chief,” he said with a grin matching Branzy’s.

“But- But I had to convince you to say yes!” Chief exclaimed, “How come you just want to marry Branzy without him even asking you?!”

Clown blinked. “Because I like Branzy,” he said, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning the slightest bit against Branzy’s shoulder. Chief gasped and Rek laughed.

“Oouh! Get rejected, Chief!” he laughed.

“Besides,” Clown continued, “You’re married to him, too, aren’t you? So there should be no issue with me marrying him. Right?”

Chief frowned angrily. “Right,” he said through his teeth before turning to look at Branzy with a murderous expression and whispering, “I’ll get you back for this. You’ll see who’s gonna be laughing in the end.”

Branzy smiled and ignored him, instead giving Clown the fork. “There you go,” he said, “Let’s eat now.”

Clown smiled and took it. “Thank you, Branzy,” he said and pressed a small kiss to Branzy’s cheek before carefully taking a small bit of Branzy’s lasagna. Branzy was sure his cheeks were bright red with how burning hot they were.

“What was that?” Rek asked and Branzy could swear his face was about to light up in fire. This was not good for his case of like-liking and/or dating Clown, at all. He could try to explain how it was entirely platonic, but there was no way Rek or Chief would believe him, especially not when they thought Clown was alive. There was the excuse of different cultures, but seeing as Clown was in the now it would have to be about a different place, like Europe, but Branzy a) didn’t know if Clown was actually European, b) didn’t know European culture and c) couldn’t risk Clown not understanding that they were trying to seem normal – which wasn’t Clown’s normal, apparently.

But there was always the option of gaslighting.

“What was what?” Branzy asked back and unsuspiciously ate some of his lasagna. Rek crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean ‘what was what’? Clown kissed you on the cheek,” Rek said bluntly before leaning forward and lowering his voice to sound almost threatening, “And you’re blushing because of it. Platonic my butt.”

Chief, who seemed to have briefly looked away right as Clown ‘kissed’ him, turned and looked at them again. “He did what?” he asked shockedly.

“I… do not see what your problem is,” Clown said and took another piece of lasagna, “It’s good, by the way.”

“Oh, I don’t have a problem,” Rek said, “I just find it odd that both of you claim to be platonic friends, yet you act all lovey-dovey with each other and kiss each other on the cheek.”

“Branzy said it was fine,” Clown said and Branzy could already hear Rek and Chief’s teasing. And yeah, maybe Branzy was a little in love with Clown, sure, but a) Clown and him were in a platonic friendship and b) Clown didn’t need to know that Branzy kind of wanted it to be something more than that.

“He said it was ‘fine’, huh?” Rek repeated, glancing at Branzy with an expression that said he definitely thought he knew exactly what was going on — and maybe he wasn’t completely wrong, but still, Branzy found it a little rude. 

“Yes,” Clown said, “I’m not kissing his cheek against his will.”

“Literally no one was questioning that,” Rek said, but Clown shook his head. 

“Besides, as far as I am aware it is not unheard of that close friends show affection like that,” he said, “In fact, today alone, I have seen fifteen instances of affection being shown in similar ways. Ergo, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that sort of affection.”

“Uh-huh,” Rek said, clearly still doubtful of their platonic feelings. Clown, maybe to spite Rek, maybe just because he felt like it, inched closer to Branzy until almost their entire sides were touching and intertwined their legs a little. 

A while later, Branzy finally found himself and Clown on the tram to Branzy’s workplace. While it wasn’t a long ride, Branzy found himself sitting with Clown resting his head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but feel a little concerned for the ghost. He seemed very tired, even more so than the day before at this time. Branzy figured it must have been the long winded social interaction and/or Clown being fully visible for such a long time. 

Branzy looked around, checking if anyone was looking in their direction at all before lightly tapping Clown’s shoulder, causing the ghost to look at him. 

“Hm?” he hummed and Branzy smiled softly. 

“You seem tired,” he whispered, “No one’s looking, you can go invisible now.”

Clown nodded shortly and disappeared entirely before returning barely visible and cold against Branzy’s side. 

“How long do you have to stay there today?” Clown murmured, clearly as dissatisfied with having to go to the tech store as Branzy was. 

“The same as yesterday,” Branzy whispered, “6:30 PM.”

Clown sighed unhappily, but didn’t complain any further, by now understanding that Branzy didn’t have much of a choice, either. 

“I can make hot chocolate again, once we’re home,” Branzy offered, trying to sweeten the deal for both Clown and himself. Clown nodded shortly before leaning more against Branzy, effectively ending the conversation.

Branzy liked his job – who wouldn’t when the job allowed him to pay rent and for groceries without much of a struggle, after all? (Then again, a job that didn’t do that would just be absurd ) – but sometimes he wondered if a home was worth people who clearly didn’t know shit about tech ‘correcting’ him on the most basic things. And now not being able to spend the time with Clown.

But anyways, Branzy was done with his shift for the day, so he took his things from the staff room and went on his way home. Clown seemed really happy about that – well, Branzy supposed ‘happy’ wasn’t the most accurate description; it seemed more like the emotion a lost person without water in the desert would feel upon seeing water a mile away.

Either way, Branzy was pretty sure he felt the same way – like he could sleep for a good few days once he got home –, which is how he almost forgot about the book that Redd had said would be here by now. So when he stumbled across it a little later, as he placed the two mugs of hot chocolate on the living room, he felt a little silly.

But seeing as Clown didn’t seem very interested in a conversation right now, either (instead scribbling in his journal again), Branzy decided to look through the book as he drank.

Redd seemed to have taken the time to mark the pages which contained any information on Clown’s circus: a single double page, which mostly consisted of images. Seemed like Redd hadn’t understated the minimal amount of information it had on Clown.

‘ClownPierce’s Circus of Chaos was most likely a hot spot for queer people at the time, supported by the fact that many of the known frequents engaged in homosexual and -romantic relationships, some later were executed for it, including Miss Clover, the co-owner, who was executed for homosexual behaviour and encouragement of homosexuality and ‘transgenderism’ a few months after her fiancé’s death.’

That was… new, but it didn’t really have much to do with Clown himself, aside from the fact that he was queer – which Branzy already found out – and that he had co-owned the circus with that woman, Miss Clover. He could try to ask Clown about that. Later, he decided as he glanced at Clown and remembered just how much today was for the ghost, and continued reading.

‘Very little information about the primary owner of the casino is known, as a lot of information about the circus got lost in time, however it is assumed that they used the alias ‘ClownPierce’ for at least the last year before the circus, along with many other queer spaces, was shut down. They are commonly assumed to be male, though there is little to no hard evidence to prove that they weren’t female or had a trans-identity.’

That one Branzy already knew; Clown indeed went by ‘ClownPierce’ and was a man.

And those were all of the mini texts that Clown was mentioned in. There was an image, though, that caught Branzy’s eye.

‘Alt: The symbol of ‘The Jester’ (assumed to be ClownPierce) found on several objects in the circus.’

It showed a bunch of objects, most of which Branzy had seen in that antique store back in October. Including the locket – Branzy hadn’t even noticed the small engraving depicting that symbol. That was it. The antique store. Redd had been right to say it barely had any information, but it reminded Branzy of the antique store. There might be something – anything that might help. And to think Branzy almost completely forgot about it! 

“Bad Branzy,” Branzy said beneath his breath as he took a photo of each of the sides, “Bad.”

With that, he closed the book and opened his public traffic app.

‘From: Pine District (PlainLands) To: AUNTIEQUES (PlainLands)’

‘Fastest connection: ICT-12 - Departs in: twenty minutes’

Chapter Text

Branzy watches the trees pass by the train’s window with tired eyes. He feels something shift in the universe. He has known for a while now that this world must end, but for the past eleven months twenty-two minutes he has been in a state of disharmony, a limbo of sorts. He sighs. It’s all finally coming to an end. He’s glad, even though he never got to finish finding out about Clown, never got to see the end to his story. At least the book is finally closed for good, now, and he has assurance.

-

Hello, dear reader. This ending may dissatisfy you. I fully understand. But truth be told, I have been keeping a secret from you. Since the end of July of the past year, I have been working on a rewrite of this book, started writing it in September. Now I have finally finished it.
So I present to you Zeitgeist: REVIVED. I hope you enjoy it. Updates will take place every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.
Yours truly
14pinecones