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The fridge's light illuminated the dark kitchen, its door wide open causing the temperature around it to drop just a bit due to the cold coming from it. A fridge could never be an air conditioner, that's what Jessie would always say - yet the immediate experience said otherwise to the small figure standing right in front of it, shivering just a bit, weirdly with no shadow at all casting behind his legs. Not so weird when one came to the realization he was a ghost though.
Gus was convinced that the fridge got colder and colder each night, and that Jessie's knowledge about thermodynamics was kind of confused. Perhaps it was just an impression due to the temperatures of that winter season coming to an all-time low – so low that not even he could handle it. And the fact that he was wearing a short-sleeved pajama didn't help at all either - what the heck was he thinking when he put it on?
But he didn't allow the cold to distract him, his eyes scanning every corner of the cold enclosure with a precise objective in mind. Ah, there it was: behind a large pile of steak…tomorrow's lunch, if he had to guess.
Gus grabbed the bottle full of water, then quickly closed the fridge shut, pushing a bit onto it to make sure it wasn't open – once he had accidentally failed to close it properly, and well, the food wasn’t in great condition the following morning.
The sound of the water slowly pouring into a small glass filled the otherwise pitch-silent room with its flow. It wasn’t raining outside; first time in a while…during the previous nights, Gus had gotten used to the noise of water drops tapping on the room’s windows, but that night was different.
What wasn’t different was his tremendous lack of sleep over the course of that damned week. Mind you, he was still dead – that wasn’t going to change for sure, but he did like sleeping. It made him feel better, even if he did not need it.
Yet he just couldn’t seem to get a shut eye. Nightmares of the day he was deprived of his life kept flashing in his mind as soon as he fell asleep, causing him to wake up in a sweat from the terror. The images of his body being split in half by that train tormented him, the screams and the cries echoed within the walls of his brain. Sometimes it felt so realistic that he could swear to feel the piercing pain of the moment.
So he stayed up. He went to the kitchen at exactly 3am, opened the fridge, felt the cold breeze coming out of it on his skin; grabbed the water bottle, poured the liquid into a glass, and then sipped on it for the rest of the night, lost in thought - just to return to bed before anyone in the house woke up.
Rinse and repeat. Quite the routine.
He wasn’t sure if this was going to take a toll on him, in the long run. The thought was pretty scary, though. He hoped this unfortunate chain of events would stop eventually, just like it had started. He really missed those nights of long and peaceful sleep he used to have.
There wasn’t much in the apartment that he could munch on for the time being. Maisie said she would go to the mall early that morning to get some stuff for the four of them – perhaps he could join her. Maybe it would help him take his mind off of all those bad things. Doing errands with Maisie was more fun than one would give it credit for.
Obviously he hadn't told anyone about his problem, otherwise he wouldn't have been so secretive about it. Not Buster, not Fang, not Maisie, not even Bonnie – or anyone in his friend group, for that matter. He remained silent and decided it wasn’t worth it to share such haunting pictures with anyone else. His demons would remain his demons, always. Sometimes though, he really considered letting it out. Maybe it would have helped, but…they didn’t deserve to know it. None of them did.
For a while, he just stared at the water in his glass, occasionally drinking some of it. He’d blow some air into it with his mouth, watching with interest as circles formed within the mirror that reflected his face in a silly, wobbly way. It helped him relax, childish as it might be. In a way he was a child still - though he had lived for much longer than any "child". Lived, so to speak.
He found it easy to entertain himself with the simpler things of life. Whatever helped him not think about the train’s siren was good enough. But no matter what, his mind would occasionally wander back to it. Even after his death, it just…it didn’t go away. He really did expect it to – besides, Poco barely remembered anything about his life prior to his death. But...that wasn't the case for Gus.
He remembered everything. Every face and detail, even the smaller, subtle ones. Perhaps it was his subconscious – he thought he had overheard Byron talking about it once when he had visited the old town with Fang to get some cookies for Maisie’s birthday, Piper’s courtesy of course. Something about how the…subconscious remembers everything the eye sees, even in its corner. Maybe that’s why his nightmares eventually became realistic to the point he felt like he was there again. Just his brain deceiving him, slowly building up a scenario that was hardly any different from the actual station he had long left behind.
His loneliness was suddenly interrupted when the kitchen’s door creaked open. Gus didn’t turn, he didn’t bother to look at who it was. Besides, he had heard footsteps coming in his direction, and he felt he knew who that was.
He had learned to differentiate his friends' footsteps over the months. Maisie’s had their own charm to them – soft, yet decisive. Fang’s were powerful, but confused…the rhythm of his feet tapping the floor constantly changed. But those he was hearing at that moment, were pretty heavy, and had the characteristic noise of some familiar slippers coming his way. Pink, to be precise.
Only one person in the apartment wore pink slippers.
“Hey Buster.” Gus called him out, his voice emotionless as he still stared at his glass, both hands around the transparent material. Buster didn’t seem surprised by Gus’ guessing ability – suggesting that this probably wasn’t the first time something like that had happened.
“It's…awfully late, Gus. What time is it even, I didn’t check...”
“3am.” The ghost kid answered with barely any pause between the question and the answer.
“Right…what are you doing awake?” Buster’s tone made it pretty obvious that he had just been awoken. Perhaps Gus had made a little too much noise that night - that was too bad. Buster walked over to the kitchen table and sat beside him, pulling a chair quickly without too much thought.
“I was thirsty.” He answered, without elaborating much, his voice still not transpiring the slightest emotion.
“Ah, cool…uhm, didn’t know water made you this stoic though. That’s new.”
“I’m not stoic, just tired.”
“Well, it sure is taking you a lot to drink that water if that is the case.”
By that point, it was clear that Buster wasn't going to fall for any of Gus' lies. He didn’t even try to come up with proper excuses really. Truthfully, he was somewhat thirsty; but obviously, he wasn’t sticking around just because of that. And he knew his friend knew. He looked at him – Buster wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, obviously. His hair was quite the mess and he seemed to be struggling to keep his own eyes open. Eyes from which transpired visible worry, too.
And admittedly, remorse did bite at the ghost kid for having to resort to lies, but all he wanted to do was to keep his big brother safe from his own nightmares.
“Is it the first time something like this happens?” Buster eventually continued with his questions.
“Nope. Maybe…the seventh or something. I haven't been counting.”
“Jeez, seven times?? That must be awful…do you just, stay here in the kitchen alone every night or…”
“I do.” Gus then paused for a moment, sighing and rubbing his eyes, bothered. He just wanted this conversation to end. He needed some time alone, otherwise he wouldn't have been there in the first place.
“Look, it’s nothing serious, Buster. Don’t sweat it. I’ll go back to bed soon, okay? I just…need a moment.”
Buster sighed. He could tell Gus was in need of help, and, he was the best at helping his friends! But…Gus didn’t seem to want any support - or let him into his thoughts at all. But he didn’t give up just yet – giving up wasn’t a Buster thing to do. Especially not when his little bro was acting like that.
“No no, it’s fine. I’ll just…stick around. If you feel like talking, you know. I’m here.” He explained, moving his arms on the table and putting his chin on one of them. Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to do if he wanted to stay awake, but it was also the most comfortable position he could think of. Gus looked at him and shook his head. He wasn’t going to give up so easily…he should have known he just wouldn’t leave like nothing had happened. He worried for him, Gus felt sick for causing that.
The two remained like that for a while, not exchanging a word. It felt somewhat awkward, admittedly, especially because they’d usually talk a lot. Silence wasn’t something they were used to, not while they were in each other’s company. Then again, Buster did say he wouldn’t bother him. Eventually, though... he spoke again.
“Feeling a little better now?” Gus blinked a few times, not expecting to hear Buster’s voice again so soon. Was it soon, even? A lot of time had passed, yet it felt like one minute at most.
“Maybe a bit. Look, i…I just had a nightmare, that’s all. It goes away eventually.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Or I could try guessing! How about that.”
Gus showed reluctance to accept the offer at first, but eventually, he gave in. What did he have to lose, anyway? He nodded.
“Was it a dream about you getting lost somewhere?”
“No.”
“Maybe being chased?? I had a nightmare like that once-“
“No.”
“Me and Fang doing something bad to you? Please tell me it wasn’t that!”
“No…”
“Oh, thank God. How about-“
“No, no-“
The kid’s voice cracked. He put a hand on his throat, surprised. Perhaps he should have seen it coming – he was starting to feel a little…overwhelmed by all the questions. He just felt horrible. He just wanted to go back to sleep so that he wouldn't have to talk about any of that, but, what if that nightmare returned?
Buster also observed a sudden increase in Gus' breathing rate. He frowned, feeling like he had crossed some…boundaries that maybe he wasn’t meant to.
“…alright, sorry buddy. Maybe I’ve gone too far.”
“I-I'ts fine. I’ll tell you. Just…just don’t tell anyone else.” There was no point in hiding it anymore, he realized. Now that Buster knew he had consistent nightmares every night, he’d probably keep an eye out for him – maybe even tell Fang and Maisie, which would have made everything so much worse. Might as well mitigate the damage.
Buster sealed his mouth, mimicking a zip in the process and eagerly waiting for some sort of explanation for such weird behavior coming from him.
“It was about my death. The…train. It put me in uh…bad shape, if you know what I mean?” He didn’t go into detail, of course. The last thing he wanted was for Buster to have such gruesome images printed in his mind just like him.
“…oh. Damn. That’s – actually worse than I thought.” Buster’s voice dropped into a whisper. “I had no idea that your death was still troubling you this bad.”
“It’s…okay, really. It just started happening, so maybe it will just go away too…eventually.” Gus sniffed, his eyes burning a little from some potential tears. Why did everything hurt so much?
“No, I get it. Well – not really, I haven’t gone through what you did, and I can’t even begin to imagine how terrible it must have been for you, buddy. But, uhm…you know what Maisie says, right? The past is in the past. We’re all here for you, if you need us. We can talk about it! And, if you don’t want to – that’s totally fair too. Just know that you’re family as well, now. You don't need to face this alone anymore.”
A small smile crept on Gus’ face. Damn it, Buster had always been so good with words. Sometimes he acted like a dumbass douchebag, but when he needed to be serious he just nailed it. He turned to Buster and nodded.
“Thanks. Really. This is all…a bit too haunting for me, but. I’m glad I’ve got you guys.”
“Any time.” Buster then stretched himself a bit, pushing his chair back with his back and standing up. “I’ll go back to bed now, you probably need some space. See you tomorrow, alright?”
“Good night, Buster.” Gus answered, his voice finally showing some sort of emotion - affection of course -, while turning his attention back to his glass of water, this time with fewer thoughts in his head.
The next morning, Fang and Buster woke up to a weak ray of sun shining through their window’s shades. It felt nice on the skin, slightly warm – surely a welcomed surprise after all those days of freezing cold.
“Were you awake tonight? I’ve heard the commotion of you getting out of your bed.” Fang asked, toothbrush in his mouth as he cleaned his teeth with meticulous attention. Fang always wanted to be sure his smile was shiny and perfect, and since they were going to hang out that day, he had more of an excuse to brush them so carefully.
Shame it made it three times more difficult to understand what the heck he was asking, with all the toothpaste in his mouth making his sentences sound like gibberish. Fortunately, from the room adjacent, Buster managed to understand by piecing together the only two or three words he could translate into proper English.
“Yeah, uhm…Gus had a nightmare, so I went to check on him to make sure everything was okay.”
Fang spat the toothpaste in the sink, washing his mouth with warm water.
“I hope it was nothing serious.”
Buster rummaged through his drawer until he found his glasses, and quickly put them on. Then, he walked closer to the bathroom, waiting for Fang to join him so that they could get out of the apartment and meet the others at Arcadia. They were already late…oversleeping surely was their greatest ability, after all.
“Nothing too bad, really. He just needed a little push to talk about it.”
“Alright, cool. But anyway, happier thoughts... I hope you’re feeling fired up, cause we’re going to have to run a bit! Unless you want Edgar to complain about us being late as per usual all morning.”
“Not a chance!” Buster replied, holding back some laughter. Edgar wasn’t really fond of them not respecting the meeting times they’d organize in their group chat, they knew that very well.
Before unlocking the apartment’s door, however, Buster checked the kitchen. He knew that Maisie and Gus were probably already out at the mall - Gus liked to join her whenever she went there -, but he still gave it a quick glance just in case.
The glass of water was empty. He smiled, then quickly opened the door after Fang’s annoying complaining to do so.
And in case you were curious, no.
Gus didn’t have nightmares after that night.