9. Home is where your weird friends are
nine
Home is where your weird friends are
JAMES
You should let him go , says a little voice in my head as we enter the nightclub.
But the music is loud enough to even drown the voice of my conscience, and I feel the bass vibrate in my chest and bones.
The colourful lights combined with the alcohol in my blood has turned the world hazy.
We left our coats in the cloakroom, and the moist air, warm as a breath, banishes the cold from early autumn.
Ewan’s large hand fits perfectly in mine, and I refuse to let him go as I pull him through the sweaty crowd.
This is messed up, I know. I’m not clueless, he’s been avoiding me since this morning, right after we talked about dating over mimosas.
He took it as a rejection, and I can’t really blame him.
This is me, James Sato, opportunist and trampler of hearts.
My dating life has been chaotic, to say the least. I used to go all out, but a few heartbreaks have taught me to simply enjoy the good things, and run away when it gets too complicated.
This is why I need to let him put some distance between us. I really should... but even though my brain is ordering me to, my body is always seeking him out, like a moth attracted to a flame. Or it is the other around? Am I the fire spreading and burning his wings? I don’t like it.
So. Let. Him. Go.
My fingers tighten around his hand and I pull him to me as we reach the bar. The others are just behind us. Lana, Shirley, Noah, Luigi, and Emma.
“What do you want to drink?” I shout near Ewan’s ear.
He shrugs, so I order us two rum and cokes with another round of shots for everyone. As the barmaid readies our drinks, I let my hand wander to his lower back, my thumb drawing circles. Eventually, he notices my touch, and he looks down at me.
I smile and lean closer. “My shirt looks good on you.”
I feel him shiver as my breath tickles his ear. I wasn’t lying, he looks like a literal snack in my t-shirt, the red fabric hugging his chest and arms just right. I feel a pang of possessiveness knowing he's wearing my clothes, with remnants of my scent on him. Am I an animal? Probably.
Ewan angles his body towards mine, and my heart skips a beat. No matter the distance he’s trying to put between us, his body language doesn’t lie. He’s attracted to me as much as I am to him. It’s exhilarating.
He licks his lips, and my eyes zero in on them. I want to pluck and taste them like cherries. We never kissed... Why didn’t we? Now it’s all I can think about.
He’s watching me, too, and his lips part. We’re so close now...
Luigi does a silly dance move just in front of us, and the others laugh, breaking our trance. Our drinks appear on the counter and I pull out my phone to pay, but Lana is faster. She winks at me. I like her. She’s funny and unexpected, just like her haunted hostel.
We do the shots then Lana pulls us towards the dancefloor. Ewan appears uncomfortable for a moment, but then Shirley imitates Luigi, doing weird dance moves one after the other, and he relaxes. He’s beautiful, joy radiating from him and the black light making his smile glow.
A guy bumps against him from behind, spilling his beer on himself.
He whirls on Ewan, ready to start making trouble just because guys like him love to square up for no reason when they’re drunk.
Ewan’s eyes widen slightly, but before the man can open his mouth and start shouting over the music, I grab him by the collar of his ugly shirt and yank down until his face his lower than mine.
He’s taller than me, but it’s never been a problem before.
“Move along or I’ll fuck you up,” I shout in his ear.
The guy tries to resist, but then our eyes meet, and he must have seen I wasn’t joking, because he shakes my grip and disappears in the crowd.
Ewan looks at me with his puppy eyes full of gratitude, and fuck, I’m obsessing about kissing him again. He’s a rugby player, and I have no doubt he could have flattened the guy if it came to that, but he’s a softie, so I’ll make sure he doesn’t have to.
“I’m your bodyguard, remember?” I tell him, sliding my hand in his and squeezing. I feel more than hear the way he gasps.
You’re an ass, James, says the voice in my head. Stop playing with your food.
Shirley hugs me excitedly, grinning. “Thank you,” she mouths.
The seven of us dance in a circle, oblivious to the rest of the world.
I have to admit, they’re all growing on me.
Even Luigi, who’s giving inviting looks to Ewan, pissing me off.
But I have no right to be jealous, Ewan isn’t mine.
And yet, I never stray far from him, making sure I’m all he can see.
We laugh and we dance and we hug, bathed in the rainbow lights, bodies supple from joy and alcohol. At some point, we all move to the bar to order drinks again, and by the time I turn around, Ewan has disappeared.
We go back to the dancefloor, and I can’t help but to check our surroundings often, waiting for my soft giant to come back.
When five minutes have passed, I share a glance with Shirley. She knows what I’m thinking.
“He went to take a piss,” she shouts near my ear.
Yes, I know, but what’s taking him so long? My frown deepens.
I wait another ten minutes, and by now even Shirley looks worried. We both make our way to the toilets, and she waits outside as I check inside. Men at the urinals glare at me as I shout his name. He’s not here.
I shake my head when I exit the toilets, and Shirley’s face has turned serious. Did Ewan lose sight of us in the crowd? I doubt it, we didn’t stray far from where we’ve been dancing all night.
We part the sea of drunk partygoers, the alcohol now making my blood sluggish, my anxiety rising painfully. Has some other dude picked a fight with Ewan? Did he get kicked out of the nightclub while I wasn’t there to protect him? I shouldn’t have let him out of my sight.
We circle around the massive nightclub twice before I find him leaning against a wall in a dark corner, looking pale. I reach for him, hands patting his body, wanting to know if he’s alright. He looks at me with surprise, as if he didn’t expect me to find him.
I pull his face to mine, both hands on his cheeks. “What happened?” I ask.
He probably can’t hear me over the loud music, but my question is quite easy to guess.
I read his answer on his lips: “Ghost.”
Of course. What made me think ghosts wouldn’t enter a nightclub?
Ewan told me they love everything that remind them of being alive.
And he can see them all, and not just the poltergeists who are strong enough to show themselves on our side.
He can see and feel them, all the time. Death is always but a glance away for him.
I hug him briefly, squeezing his large body as much as I can to convey that I’m here for him. Shirley is watching us, worry etched on her face. I point towards the exit, telling her that we’re going. She nods and disappears in the crowd, probably to tell the others.
I grab Ewan by the hand and pull him through the crowd, pushing drunk people out of the way unceremoniously. I want to get him away from what he fears.
But how can I, when what he fears is all around us at all times, and only he can see it?
The nightclub spits us out into the cold night like a bad aftertaste. The street here is quiet, we’re on the other side of the entrance. Ewan’s hand is shaking in mine, and I push him against a wall and cage his large body with mine.
“You’re okay. I got you,” I say.
He lets out a shaky breath and buries his face in the crook between my neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry... It’s nothing... I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh, it’s fine.”
I feel the cold air on my naked arms, and that’s when I realise we forgot our coats. It’s okay, I can come back tomorrow to pick them up.
“It just... took me by surprise, that’s it.
I know the signs, but I’m drunk, so I didn’t realise.
” His breath hitches against my neck. “This guy came to talk to me. He was asking about his girlfriend, and something about a drug deal. But when he turned, half of his face was gone. And his eye was hanging by the optic nerve... it scared me, and I panicked. I’m sorry.
I was trying to get it under control when you found me. I’m fine, we can—”
I rub the back of his neck. “Let’s go back to the hostel, shall we? Fuck this place.”
There are ghosts there, too, but those are predictable and we exorcised three of them already. And if the spirits of the dead are attracted to what reminds them of life, the nightclub must be crawling with them. To Ewan’s eye, the place must be twice as crowded.
“But,” Ewan says. “You were having fun. We can—”
“I was having fun because you were. I want to stay with you, and I want to see you happy. Do you want to go back inside?”
It takes him a moment to admit the truth. “No...”
“Then let’s go back to the hostel.”
“Aye...” he straightens up, looking at me with eyes full of gratitude and longing again.
I want to kiss him so bad, but it’s not right. Not when he’s so vulnerable. I want him to succumb to my charms, not fall in my arms from despair.
I’m about to say something—anything—to distract myself from his delicious-looking lips, when Shirley and the others stumble drunkenly out of the nightclub.
“I grabbed your coats!” she says, looking at us with a worried expression. “Are you alright?”
Ewan nods. “Thank you. I’m fine.”
Lana throws her arms around his neck. “Oh my sweet Ewan. Let’s go home.”
Home, I think with surprise. Lana is welcoming us into her home, not just as ghost hunters working for her now, but as friends. Into her sentient house, I recall. Yup, that’s another thing I need to process tomorrow.
We shrug our coats on and we start walking, Ewan at the centre of our small army, protected like a king. The others don’t know what happened, but the alcohol makes them ferociously protective. Especially Shirley, who barks at a group of men who try to talk to us on the way to the hostel.