Chapter Text
The incident—God, the incident. Ricky still wasn't sure what to make of it. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet since Ben's death had been announced, and everyone seemed to notice, yet nobody had brought it up to Ricky. It was only ever to Donna, sometimes Lola. Never Ricky. Well, of course not, Ricky and Ben never got along! Why would anyone in their right mind ask Ricky about the death of his so-called rival and expect a sad answer?! If Ricky had been asked, he would probably just make up some bullshit reply about how it was sad that he died but he didn't care. Yet he did. Ricky did care, but there was no way in hell he would ever admit that. It'd destroy his entire image! If his arrogant, careless image to everyone in the damn school was to shatter, he'd be done with! Not only would he have lost Ben already, but everyone else along with that!
What was he even supposed to do? Just suck up his feelings and move on, pretending to be how he used to act? It seemed impossible to him. A good portion of Ricky's behavior was because of Ben. Their arguing and fighting gave Ricky the chance to put on the act he wanted, the one that got him attention from other students. Fuck, he was so stupid, did he seriously take all of that for granted? Who was he supposed to play his personality off of now? Bobbie, or some shit like that!? Ricky, notoriously some arrogant, confident, tough greaser, yet so much of it was purely from how often he and Ben fought! Ricky couldn't continue like this—Actually, maybe he could. If he tried hard enough, he could. Maybe if there was some other random boy who was exactly like Benjamin Brookes, then there was a slim chance, but any other result would most likely send Ricky's social image at school plummeting.
—
It'd been two weeks since Ben had died, yet he came back as a ghost. Ben, at first, completely thought that he was still alive. Until he got out of the hospital bed, finding that he moved much differently, almost floating. Well, that, and the fact that he saw his mother and Donna sobbing outside of the room, nurses frantically rushing around, trying to save him. Too late.
Ben had been walking—Well, floating around ever since. He first went home with his family, watching them mourn him. Honestly, it had become kind of boring. It was the same thing every day. Ben didn't realize how boring his life was when he was alive. How did he seriously survive doing the exact same thing, every single day? It took a bit to realize that he had complete free will now. He could go anywhere, do anything, at any time, and not have to worry about anyone telling him off. Man, maybe death was worth it... at least in Ben's case.
The funeral had been the most boring part of Ben's first few weeks of being a ghost. He'd been to plenty of funerals, most notably his father's, and they'd all been long, dark, and boring, the truth of it only hidden by the intensity of mourning someone's life. At the service, though, Ben saw someone he didn't really expect—Ricky. It piqued his interest, feeling some kind of uncertainty swelling in his chest. He knew that he and Ricky hadn't exactly been friends by any means. They fought all the time and were known around the school for their bittersweet relationship with one another. Sometimes they were bitter and fought, while other times they were calm and had actual conversations in an almost sweet manner. The last time they'd talked before Ben's death, though, was more bitter than it ever would be sweet. It pained Ben to think about. How did he end things with someone he cared about on such a horrible note? Why was Ricky even here, at his funeral? Why did Ricky even care in the first place, did he even care at all, or was this an act of simple pity!?
Great, now Ben had way more than he needed on his mind. Actually, why did Ben even care so much? He was dead, there was no going back. He couldn't change what happened, and now he had to face that. God, he was terrified of facing it. Ben hated having to face the hard truth. This was all his fault, anyway, so he had no right to sulk. He had to distract himself somehow. It was a bit hard in a place like this. It was a gloomy, cold day. People, most of who were family, were dressed up in all black, some lightly shivering from the cold. Ben spotted a few familiar faces. Brady, Donna's boyfriend, was there. So was his English teacher, Mr. Wilkins, and also his principal. Lola was there, but she was towards the back and seemed almost dissociative. Ricky, of course, was there too, but he stood off away from everyone with some kind of sorrow etched into his expression. Ben had never seen him look like that before, and he was almost glad that he hadn't. Seeing Ricky like that made him feel a sharp stinging in his ghastly body, a reaction of some kind that Ben would have to find out later.
Ben wasn't sure how to feel about seeing Donna's crying face, or his mother's overall reaction. As much as he was bored with the mourning, he understood how hard it was for them. First, they'd lost their father in the war. It was a long time ago, and they'd mainly gotten passed it, only for Ben to die and for them to be shoved back into the same dark, depressive state as before. Ben hated that. If he could be alive again, he totally would, even if he had to give up this newfound freedom and joy in being able to wander around after death. He'd do anything to replace those sobbing faces with the happy, smiling ones he had grown so used to.
After the funeral service, Ben was bored again. He didn't want to go home again, that'd just include more sharp stings to his body as he watched his family cry and mourn him. His eyes surveyed the entire crowd, looking from person to person. He debated following some people home—until his eyes set on Ricky. Oh, God, he was going to follow Ricky home. Ben hadn't gotten much of a chance to even think about it before he floated over to Ricky. He noticed Ricky shiver more when he came over, but thought nothing of it and instead just observed his "rival" stare at Ben's coffin for several minutes. When Ricky was done, he turned around and walked with the crowd out of the church, heading home. Ben followed along, humming a song to himself as he kept up with Ricky.
It was a little harder to keep up with Ricky on the way home, with the speed of the oh-so-familiar red motorbike. Ben managed it, though, and soon he was following Ricky through the dark corridors of this unfamiliar home—Ricky's home. Ben noticed a lack of parents or siblings around the place, but he didn't think much of it. Ricky shut himself in his room and Ben decided to not bother with it, instead giving himself a house tour. Ben's favorite place by far was the fireplace. It warmed up his deathly cold body. Ben was able to just sit there, enjoying the warmth of the fire as he waited for Ricky to come out of his room—if he ever did, that is. If he didn't, Ben would just go through the wall instead.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Ben would have to go through the wall. Ricky never left his room, not even to get food. "Dumbass..." Ben grumbled to himself, getting up from his spot beside the fire. He went down the hallway, attempting to familiarize himself with the layout of the small home. Ben approached Ricky's door, staring at it for a moment before simply walking through it. He looked around the room. It was exactly as he expected, yet he barely even registered the way the room looked. It was dark, anyway, so he couldn't see all of it even if he tried. Ben looked around, spotting Ricky lying in bed, probably sleeping. Ben stared for a few moments, the same sharp stinging appearing in his chest, yet it was worse now. Ben sighed, walking toward the twin bed, looking down at Ricky. After a few minutes of straight staring, Ben lay down on the floor, staring up at the white ceiling until he fell into the same peaceful, sleepy state as he had for the past few nights. Even if he was a ghost now, he could still sleep. He could be a nuisance tomorrow.