This Place Is Haunted, Possession by a Ghost

After I get all my clothes on, I dial Balz’s number for FaceTime. He hangs up and sends me a text instead.

Balz: d00d cant ft im @ school.

me: fuck forgot about the time difference sorry

Balz: dont wry bout it ill call u when i get out

me: ok talk to you later

Balz: oh shit teach bout to tak da phone!!!

me: omg who?

He doesn’t reply after that, so I’m guessing he got his phone taken away. If he’s in Mr. Pat’s class I’ll get a text from Angelo’s phone since I remember them together in that class.

I get a text from Angelo in less than a minute.

Angelo: mr pat

<><><>

A few hours later, Balz calls me for FaceTime. I answer him and his face pops up onto the screen.

“You called earlier,” he states.

“Yeah, I saw the ghost again a few hours ago, like, up close,” I tell him, and that catches his attention quickly.

“Really? Is it a boy or girl?”

“A boy.”

“Do you think he’s cute?”

“Super cute, Balz.”

“What’s he look like?” I hear another familiar voice ask.

“Devin?”

“Yeah! But for real, what does he look like?” Devin asks again.

“He has dark shoulder-length black hair, blue eyes, and he’s a little shorter that Balz,” I answer the best I can. Devin hums before speaking up again.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know, he freaked out and ran before I could say anything to him,” I sigh.

“Why didn’t you run after him?” Balz asks me now.

“Because I had just gotten out of the shower! I was straight up naked!”

Devin and Balz crack up at that, leaving me to blush furiously.

These fucking motherfuckers.

“Chris, this guy definitely likes you!” Balz claims.

“He doesn’t even know me! I don’t even know him!” I whine and pout.

“Go look for him! He’s gotta be in that house somewhere!”

“Fine!”

“Call us back after you talk to him!”

And with that, my two idiot friends hang up, leaving me to look for the ghost. I sigh and lock my iPhone before tossing it onto the couch next to me. I get up and decide where to look. Maybe I’ll try the bathroom? I mean, he had to be in there for a reason. No, I’m pretty sure he’d done that three hours ago after I’ve left the bathroom. Maybe he’s hanging around my room since he’s been digging through my stuff? I creep up the stairs towards my room and quietly push the door open. He’s not in there. Maybe I can check Mom’s room? I mean, he did take her laptop for whatever reason. So, I creep over to her bedroom and quietly push the door open and peek inside.

Found him.

He’s sitting on Mom’s bed, and yes, he’s on her computer, but he was typing something, biting his lip as if he were concentrating. I take a deep breath and step inside, closing the door behind me. The click of the door was enough to gain his attention as his head snaps up and towards my direction. We make eye contact again, and he wears the same expression from earlier.

What the fuck do I say to him?!

“Um…” I start as I take a step forward. He closes the laptop and glances around the room desperately before locking eyes with me again. I take another step forward, then another, and another, until I’m finally standing right in front of the bed. He looks up at me and bites his lip, which I find so fucking adorable. “I...come in peace?”

He only stares up at me in response.

“Uh…” I start awkwardly. “I’m Chris Cerulli.”

He’s quiet for a second.

“Ricky Olson,” he says quietly. I smile at him and he pulls a small one up, but my smile falters a bit when I notice that his smile is fake.

“You, um, don’t have to be scared of me, y’know?” I try as I start to climb up onto the bed. He tries to scoot away, but only manages to get a few inches away before hitting the headboard.

“But…” he starts quietly, but he stops himself and drops his gaze to his lap.

“But?” I ask patiently. He doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at his lap.

“Will you trust me if I tell you about myself?”

He sighs very softly.

“Maybe…”

I smile a little. Maybe usually means yes, right?

“Well, I already told you that my name’s Chris Cerulli. I turned eighteen on October 17th, my favorite band is Slipknot, I love wings, and I’m gay,” I tell him a few things. “Can you tell me about you now?”

“Um…” he starts and takes a deep breath while I watch him in awe.

He’s
So
Fucking
Cute.

“My name’s Ricky Olson, I was born September 1st, I died when I was seventeen, my favorite band is HIM, I love wings too, and I’m also gay,” he says quietly.

“Ricky?”

“Yeah?”

“Mind if I ask you something?” I ask him, feeling a bit nervous actually.

“Uh… Go ahead, I guess,” he hesitates before agreeing.

“When did you die?”

He bites his lip as he tries to remember.

“I think some time in November last year,” he answers me sadly, and I just wanna hug him and tell him that everything will be alright but I don’t wanna scare him away so soon. It’s February now so he’s been dead for maybe around three months. I wanna ask him how he died but it may be too soon for that.

We both flinch as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I smile at him apologetically before pulling my phone out, seeing that I've received a text from Devin.

“Who is it?” he asks softly. I smile at him.

“My friend Devin. He’s in Scranton.”

He bites his lip, thinking.

“That’s in Pennsylvania, right?” he asks me as I read the message. Devin asked me if I had any luck.

“Sure is,” I sigh as I reply to Devin with a “yeah i found him”.

“You miss your friend?” he asks sympathetically, and all I do is nod.

“Sure do. But it’s okay, I can still talk to them. And I also made more friends here,” I explain to him with a smile.

“I miss my friends, too,” he mutters, and I can just hear how sad and heart broken he is and his voice cracks halfway through the sentence and oh my god I wanna cry because I don’t know how to make him feel better. The tears actually start to rim my eyes as I see tears form up in his own. I do the first thing that comes to mind and hold my arms out for him. He hesitates for a second before crawling into my arms, accepting my hug. I wrap my arms protectively around his small form as he silently cries into my shoulder.

I always thought that ghosts would be wispy and misty, that you couldn’t touch them. I also thought that they were kinda translucent, white, and kinda floated about. I thought they were just like the ghosts you see in cartoons. But Ricky’s just like a human, just not as warm as the average human.

I really like holding Ricky like this. His skin is soft, his hair is soft, he smells really good, and it just feels… right.

After a few minutes, he pulls away and wipes at his eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he apologizes. “I think I’ll just come back when I get a hold of myself. So I’ll, uh, see you later then.”

Before I can protest, he’s up and bolting out of the room.