Chapter 32
RAFE
I wake up wrapped in my blankets, and yet a chill crawls down my spine. Ridiculous. These old houses aren’t equipped with central air, and we’re in Southern California. It’s not cold. At all.
Yet, I’m alone in bed and without the warmth of Brent’s body against mine, I feel cold.
Sighing, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. The room is silent. I strain my ears to listen for Brent.
“Are you there this morning?” I ask.
No answer. Sighing, I roll to my side and sit up, my legs dangling over the edge. Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms, I look around our dorm room. It’s empty. Still. Silent. Shaking my head, I slide down from my bunk and look into Brent’s. Sure enough, it’s empty.
“Good morning,” I mutter and stick my feet into my slippers.
Brent has been weirdly distant since we returned to school a few days ago. He was quiet on the drive back, but as soon as we turned in for the night—in separate beds—I could feel an uncomfortable rift between us.
It grows every day. I don’t think I’ve seen him awake since the evening we returned to school. He’s avoiding me. I hate the feeling in my chest and the questions that spiral out of control because of it.
I crossed a line I knew I shouldn’t have, and now my friendship with one of the most important people in my life may be beyond repair. You don’t fuck friends. That doesn’t end well.
The closest bathroom is empty, so I stop to take a piss and brush my teeth. As I stare at myself in the mirror with the shower behind me, a phantom memory lingers of Brent and me in the shower. Wrapped around each other. Kissing. Touching.
I turn to find myself alone in the bathroom. Huffing, I stare at myself in the mirror again. My hickeys are gone. Most of the bite marks have faded. The bruising around my thighs from the ties is gone. The ache in my body is gone.
I fear the last remnants of my holiday fading entirely. Erasing. As if it never happened. The only proof that it was real is Brent’s absence because I know that’s a reflection of things between us being weird.
This means he doesn’t feel the same way.
Right? He didn’t feel the shift between us in the same way.
Everything that we shared meant something different to him than it did to me.
Is he avoiding me so I don’t tell him how I feel?
He knows that it meant more to me than it did him, and he doesn’t want to have that conversation.
Should I text him and assure him I hear his message loud and clear? Will that bring him back?
And then what? Carry on every day like those ten wonderful days didn’t happen? Can I even do that?
I turn away from my reflection and leave the bathroom. In case Mo and Edin are here, I stop in my room for bed pants and a shirt. The room is still empty. No Brent. He didn’t sneak back in while I was in the bathroom.
The house is silent. It’s weird. When the house is empty like this, noises that don’t belong are more frequent.
It’s like the ghosts get restless without the activity, so they make their own.
Doors that had been closed are suddenly open.
There’s activity in the kitchen that stops when you come around the corner.
There are conversations in rooms that are empty.
Shadows of people moving about the space who aren’t really here.
I touch a door on my way by and murmur, “They’ll be back soon. You’re not alone.”
I’m not the only one who talks to the ghosts.
Especially when the house is this empty.
It’s something that we’re told when we move in.
We treat the ghosts with respect. They live here too.
If we need to repair something or move something around, and especially if we have to do any kind of construction, we are very vocal and thorough in explaining what we’re doing and why.
It keeps the peace. It shows them we respect them and the house.
To me, if I’m lonely with so many of our frat brothers gone for the holidays, I’m sure they’re lonely too. Houses weren’t meant to be empty. They’re made to be lived in. An empty house is a sad house.
“Come to breakfast with me?” I ask the empty hall.
I’ve never seen anyone. There are frat brothers who swear they see specific entities in the house. For me, I’ve seen doors move on their own. I’ve heard voices behind closed doors of empty rooms. I’ve heard footsteps.
I know they’re here. I’m not alone.
My footsteps are the only ones in the hall, and yet, the hair on my body stands on end.
I’m definitely not alone. It brings a smile to my face.
“What do you do when your heart aches for someone who doesn’t return those feelings?
” I whisper. “Do you have advice on how to repair a very important friendship?”
Only my footsteps are heard. Sometimes, I want to take out a recorder or something.
Just to see if I get a response. We have strict rules, though.
Absolutely no supernatural investigative equipment is allowed in the house.
No apps of that kind are allowed on our phones.
No séances. The dead are to be left alone and in peace.
Besides, so many of those things can open doors and portals and let in the bad. Believe in it or not, the spirits in the house are peaceful. They’re part of the frat house just as much as we are and allowed to live their afterlives however they want. Without evil and darkness being brought in.
I’ve heard stories that the Sigma house has an evil entity in its attic. There are three nights a year that the house is completely vacated because they’re known as ‘evil nights.’ Someone had played with a spirit board in the past. Moreover, there’s evidence of occult activity in the attic.
They’re a lesson for everyone. There are horror stories that come out of the Sigma house. No thank you.
The kitchen is empty. As is the fridge and the pantry. I sigh. “You know, I get why we empty the place, but I’m fucking hungry,” I mutter.
“Oh.” I turn at the voice and find Lyric in the doorway. “It’s a real person.”
I laugh. “Yeah. I’m hungry, and we had a weird-ass meal before we left to eat everything.”
“Come get breakfast with me?” Lyric asks.
“Sure.” I glance at my clothes and decide I don’t give a fuck. Not many people are on campus right now anyway. “Be right back,” I tell the ghosts. “Hold down the fort while we’re gone, okay?”
Lyric looks around nervously. A sign that he’s very new to the frat house. Not at all comfortable with us talking to the spirits.
“Say goodbye,” I tell him.
He shivers and says, “Bye?”
Laughing, I lead him from the kitchen toward the front door. “Did you have invisible friends when you were young?”
He tilts his head to the side as he watches me slip into sneakers. “Yeah.”
“Treat the spirits as if they’re your invisible friends.”
“I… uh…” He glances back at the house. “Really?”
I follow his gaze and swear to fuck, I see a curtain shift. Grinning, I raise my hand to wave. Lyric shivers again.
“If you’re scared of ghosts, you shouldn’t have pledged,” I tell him. Though I’m laughing, I’m also serious. It’s something we take seriously.
“Yeah, I remember,” Lyric says. “I try not to be scared. How is it possible not to be scared of something that moves and talks when you can’t see it?”
“There are far more things to be afraid of that you can see. The Omega spirits aren’t going to hurt you. That same thing can’t be said about visible threats.”
He presses his lips together. “How dooming.”
I grin. “When did you get back?”
“Yesterday. I thought Brent went home with you.”
My stomach drops. “He did.”
“So he’s here?”
I nod. My gaze looks around lazily, thinking that maybe I’ll see him.
“Still asleep?”
“No. I don’t know where he is this morning.”
“Oh.”
“How was your holiday?” I ask to change the subject.
Lyric smiles. “Awesome. I have a baby sister. Well, she’s four.
Not a baby, exactly. But seeing how Santa and everything are magical for her brings back the same kind of enchantment.
She’s at the perfect age, too. Not so old that kids at school are beginning to ruin it for her.
She believes. I miss the innocence of being a child. When everything is so damn dreamlike.”
“I agree. I have little nieces and think the same thing. It’s almost as much fun seeing them experience the magic of the season as it was experiencing it.”
I almost say that it’s just as captivating seeing an adult you love experience the same magic, but of a different sort, by being surrounded by love and family and joy on the holiday for the first time. I keep that to myself, though.
“It feels like, for just a short time, so much of the ugliness in the world is put on hold to celebrate. Even if you’re celebrating different things. It’s all on pause for just a couple days. I wish I could live in that reality forever.”
“I know what you mean. The number of times that I thought about staying home and existing in those days for just a little longer is too many to count.”
Lyric sighs. He holds the door to the café open, and I enter. It’s almost entirely empty. There’s a single person sitting in a booth with a book and a smoothie. An empty plate is pushed to the side. There’s a blanket over their lap as they read.
It’s not Brent.
Still, I smile. “There’s something peaceful about campus when it’s empty like this, too.”
He glances at the person in the booth. “Yeah. I’m not sure if I’m the biggest fan of the silence everywhere. I swear, every place on campus is haunted when there’s no one around.”
I shove him a little, earning myself a shy smile.
“Outside of the Sigma house, none of the spirits lingering around are here to hurt you. On campus, I always imagine that the ghosts here are here for the same reason we are—to learn. To get an education. They’re minding their own business, moving about through time and space as they had in life. ”
“Huh.”
“I think the ones who live in the frat houses are from bygone eras. They’re still there from when the houses were actual family houses.”
“But not the Sigma house.”
“Oh, you sweet, innocent boy. I’m going to introduce you to Annmarie. Remind me. You’ll feel much better about the Omega house once you learn about the Sigma house.”
The look he gives me has me laughing.
We order. The menu is limited to cold or toasted items, which is fine. I get a bagel with cream cheese. Lyric orders avocado toast.
“We should place an order for delivery when we get back,” I muse as we take a seat at a table. “Get some food in the house.”
Lyric nods. “Hey, did you bring back the stuffed stockings by the tree?”
I nod. “Mhm. We had a couple extras, so I brought them back for Mo and Edin.”
“You had extras?” he asks, eyebrows knit together.
Grinning, I explain our tradition of stocking hunting.
“That sounds exciting,” he says, grinning. “It’s sweet that you brought them back for Edin and Mo.”
“You weren’t here when Edin explained his past, but suffice it to say that they’re never far from our minds when we’re celebrating. They deserve all kinds of spoiling for the shit they went through,” I say.
“I’ve heard whispers,” Lyric says, frowning. “It’s… sad.”
“It’s horrifying,” I correct.
He nods. We’re quiet for a minute before he says, “Did Brent find a stocking?”
I grin as I remember. “Yeah. So, there are three sizes of stockings for the adults. The sizes that I brought back are the normal and most frequent. Then there are three slightly bigger ones and one enormous one for adults. Guess which one Brent found.”
“No way.” Lyric laughs. “Did you show him where it was?”
“How could I? I didn’t hide them.”
“That’s awesome. Did he love it?”
“After we convinced him it didn’t belong to someone else, yes. I think he had a good time.”
Lyric sighs. “Good. I’m glad he spent the holiday with you. I didn’t like that he was staying here alone with the ghosts.”
“You knew?”
“I don’t know why he chooses to stay on campus, but yeah.
He was here for Thanksgiving, and I tried to convince him to come home with me, and at the time, I didn’t comprehend what he was really telling me when he said he doesn’t mind being alone during breaks.
I had initially just thought… this was a one-time thing. I don’t think it is, though.”
It’s not. I shake my head as I stare at my bagel. Somehow, I need to fix what’s broken between us. I need him to still come home for the holidays at the very least. He can’t spend them alone. That’s not fair. He’s loved, and more than anything, I want him to understand that.
“What’re you doing for the rest of the day?” Lyric asks.
I shake my head, taking another bite of my breakfast. “No plans. Hanging out with the ghosts, I guess.”
Lyric narrows his eyes, and I smile around my bagel. “Want to see what an empty library looks like?”
“You’re afraid to go alone, aren’t you?”
“Yes. No offense, but you’re the only living soul I’ve seen in the frat house, so I’m totally clinging to you until someone else more interesting comes along.” He sniffs.
“Someone who doesn’t tease you about the ghosts?”
“Yes. Exactly that.”
I laugh. “Yes, we can go to the library. You want to get dressed first or walk around in bedclothes?”
Lyric looks down at his shirt, and I’m anticipating his glare this time. He’s already dressed for the day. “Seriously?”
“What? Isn’t that what you wore to bed?”
“I’m in jeans!”
I take another bite, holding his gaze as innocently as I can.
“This is why we’re not friends,” he mutters, leaning back in his chair with a pout.
I laugh. Hopefully, he’ll take my mind off Brent for a while. Though maybe not. He’s Brent’s friend. He has a crush on Brent that’s obvious to literally everyone who sees them in the same place together. Hell, even the ghosts are aware of it.
The thought makes me smile to myself.