Chapter Text
His mouth still tasted of metal as he stepped out of the abandoned warehouse. The commotion behind him gradually faded as he stepped away. He stopped in front of a rusted car that had been sitting outside the garage for as long as he could remember, cupped his jaw, and studied his reflection on its grimy window. The snake ring on his finger glinted beneath the flickering streetlamp.
The bruise blooming along his jaw looked worse than he'd expected. He stretched his jaw once and felt the sting, spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement, then swallowed the rest.
The street was nearly empty—about as empty as the city could ever be at one in the morning.
The air had grown colder as winter crept in. Ryan rubbed his hands together before fishing a lighter and a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one, took a long drag, and exhaled slowly. The bitter smoke gradually drowned out the taste of blood on his tongue.
Just before he reached the turn leading to his flat, he thought he heard someone scream. His step halted.
For a few seconds, he stood still, listening.
"Help!"
Ryan slowly turned in a circle.
The cry echoed once, then vanished beneath the wiring of the streetlights and a cricket going off somewhere. Maybe he'd imagined it.
“Help!”
Ryan heard it more clearly this time. He frowned.
The cry came from somewhere between the alleyways, followed by the sound of something—or someone—scrambling against brick.
Every instinct told him to keep walking.
"Hello?" Yet Ryan called. Nothing. He scanned random rooftops or parked cars, but the only movement came from dead leaves scraping across the pavement in the wind. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is anyone there?”
The lamp buzzed overhead. The lone streetlamp washed him in pale light. He stayed still for another second. And another.
Then… there were footsteps. Then, almost running. Getting closer to him.
His heartbeat spiked up. Worse than an hour ago, when his face was getting beaten up in the ring.
He was about to bolt and run when a voice behind him stopped him, “N-No, please! Don’t leave me!”
Ryan froze. Every instinct and his logical sense screamed at him to run, but his body moved on its own and slowly turned.
His eyes squeezed shut in case whatever was running behind him was something he didn't want to see. He could already hear its ragged breaths.
He hadn't even finished turning before something slammed into him hard enough to stagger him back. Ryan's cigarette flew from his fingers. His heart lurched into his throat.
“Please, don’t leave me, please. Help.”
The voice sounded human, almost helpless. Whatever had thrown itself at him felt human.
Ryan slowly opened his eyes. A man about his age was clutching the front of his jacket as though letting go meant dying. Teary eyes wide with terror. Faint dark circles under them. A few bruises and scratches on his forehead and cheeks.
“H-Hey, man, what’s—”
Before he could finish his word, the man shrieked and lunged deeper into him. Fisting his jacket even tighter, his head buried into his chest. Hiding.
Instinctively, Ryan's hand found its way to the man's waist. The guy was shaking.
“M-Mate? Are you okay?” Ryan managed to ask at last.
Instead of answering, the guy lifted his head just enough to look around, still with terror in his eyes. Ryan’s brow knitted in confusion.
His eyes darted everywhere, sidewalks, rooftops, parked cars, at something above Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan followed his gaze but there was still nothing.
Then the guy looked at his eyes abruptly, realization flashing across his face.
“Okay, if you’re not gonna say anything—” Ryan said as he peeled himself off from the guy’s hold, but was cut off fast.
“P-Please, let me stay with you,” he said in one shaky breath.
Ryan took a second to flip around the words inside his head. “What—? Mate, I can’t just take a stranger into my flat.”
The guy shook his head and cut his words again, “No, please, I swear I’m not a bad person. I just—” the guy stuttered. “I just need some sleep,” he almost begged. Voice as of a kicked puppy’s.
Ryan watched the guy’s eyes. All teary and tired, a few bruises also bloomed on his face. His body was shaking.
Ryan clicked his tongue, “Mate, all due respect, but taking in a stranger at one in the morning just sounds sketchy as hell.”
The stranger slowly released him. Ryan let go of his waist and instinctively took half a step back.
Ryan’s shoulders tensed as the stranger reached into his bag. But instead of a weapon or some shit he’d imagined, he pulled out a worn leather wallet. He shoved what looked like his student card in front of Ryan.
“Please, I’m just a student. I just moved around here for an internship I—” The guy stopped, flinched over something.
Ryan’s guard came up instinctively in case there was actual danger around. But there was nothing.
“I-I’ll explain more later once we’re safer, please.”
Safe from what? Ryan wanted to ask. But he was getting tired himself, and the chill of the night somehow seeped more into his bones with the whistling wind and rustling branches.
Ryan took another look at the guy in front of him. The guy was smaller than Ryan, all dark hair and trembling shoulders. If he tried anything, Ryan could pin him to the ground easily.
Ryan hissed to himself. He was freezing. His jaw throbbed. His ribs still ached from the fight.
Which was exactly why this was a terrible idea. But he couldn’t just leave a guy in fear out there to die, could he?
“Sorry for the mess,” the first thing Ryan said when they stepped into his flat. “Had a few classes in the morning and went straight to my job.”
The guy nodded. His hands fidgeted with the strap of his bag. He looked smaller than he was outside. “‘S fine.”
Ryan picked up a few empty plates and swept the table clean of bread crumbs before ushering the guy to sit on the little couch he had.
Ryan moved around the room to tidy shit he wouldn’t even care about any other day. At some point, the neighbor’s dog barked, and the guy flinched.
He put a glass of water on the table, and the guy immediately took it and chugged it in one go. Ryan scratched his neck that wasn’t even itchy and dragged a chair so he could sit across from the guy.
“I could sleep here,” the guy gestured to the couch he was sitting on.
“Yeah, let’s talk about that later. Why don’t we start by explaining the situation because—” Ryan paused, rubbed his face with his hand, then continued. “What the fuck?”
The guy fidgeted with his fingers as he looked down. Taking in his sweet time like Ryan’s sleeping schedule wasn’t already ruined.
“I—You’d think I’m just being a nutcrack.”
Ryan let out a snort. “Mate, for someone who almost jumped onto someone at one in the morning, you do seem to care about first impressions.”
The guy's eyes flickered with guilt as he looked at Ryan.
“‘M sorry,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.
Ryan ran a hand through his hair, trying to release some of his frustration. “Okay, just tell me, yeah? I won’t be a cunt about it.”
The guy stared at Ryan’s face, lingering on the bruises a second too long. Ryan raised his brow, a silent nudge to hurry up.
The guy then took a shaky breath before saying, “Something is following me.”
“...Who?”
The stranger looked him dead in the eyes. "People." Ryan waited. "Dead people."
The room went still. Somehow, the leaky pipe sounded louder than he’d remembered. His neighbor’s dog barked once again.
“What?”
“I can see dead people.”
“What the fuck?”
“Ghosts.”
Ryan chuckled, then rubbed his face. “No, seriously.”
“I’m being serious!” His voice cracked. "They weren't there before." He rubbed his eyes. "I moved here two weeks ago and now they're everywhere. They won’t leave me alone."
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. Ghosts."
He wanted to laugh. But something held him back.
Maybe it was the genuine fear in the guy’s eyes or the exhaustion in them. Bruises and all. Staring at him almost felt like looking into the mirror, only they were being chased by different horrors.
"And... what? You think being here now will make you safer?"
The guy bit his lip. His mouth agape a couple of times, but nothing ever really came out. He cleared his throat before finally saying, “I don’t know but—” his fidget intensified. “They’re afraid of you.”