Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Simeon Saint couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at peace.

All his enemies were either dead or behind bars far, far away under tight supervision. His own prison was filled with guards keeping prisoners in, and keeping outsiders out. And the best part? He got to spend each day besides his one and only friend Bodhidharma Kanis and his beloved Helmut. All in all, life in prison was good.

There was just one teeny, tiny thing that he couldn’t quite shake off, like a spec of super glue residue.

He got the faintest sense someone was watching him.

Only occasionally, yet...he’d be lying if he said it didn’t send a cold chill up his spine. As in literally.

But Kanis was as calm as could be, and so was Helmut. Besides, Simeon had gained an untouchable reputation since the moment he stepped inside the prison, by the side of the mighty Kanis. No one dared to even sneeze in their direction.

That reputation was put to the test one Tuesday afternoon.

Kanis, sharp and agile as he was, was human. So when he slipped and fell on his hip, he had no choice but to seek medical attention outside the prison’s tiny nurse’s office. “Just a few weeks, young pup,” said Kanis. “but I fear Helmut would catch a terrible case of cabin fever should he stay by my side that whole time. Would you be so kind as to keep an eye on him while I recover?”

Hence Simeon gained a temporary shadow by his side. Now whenever Simeon walked, no one dared to even be in the same room as him, if they could help it.

...so how did it happen then? That night?

One night was particularly chilly, and even while hugging Helmut close to share body heat, Simeon shivered. Teeth chattering, and tears threatening to fall. His long hair—red, but with the black roots showing—did little to keep his neck warm. But he wouldn’t give in to ask for help, god forbid. Though he did wish he had asked Kanis where he kept the spare smuggled blankets in his cell.

Soon, however, the cold subsided, and Simeon relaxed. He was ready to finally fall asleep, finally cozy under a scrappy blanket--

Wait.

Simeon’s eyes shot open. Helmut laid next to him, snoring away. Out of the corner of his eye, just behind him, came a faint light. He sat up, startling Helmut and kicking the blanket off. But just when his eyes adjusted, he only caught a glimpse of something vanishing down the hall. Something...glowing, but now gone.

He didn’t sleep the rest of that night, but at least he wasn’t cold.

The next morning, Simeon had dark circles under his eyes that put an all-nighter student to shame. He sluggishly ate his mediocre breakfast, slipping Helmut the occasional bite. Simeon didn’t mingle like the rest of the prisoners, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t evesdrop.

And this morning’s gossip caught his attention.

“Dude, I’m tellin’ ya’, I saw it! Last night!”

“Oh, really? Pray tell, where did you see this ‘phantom’?”

“Right in front of my cell!”

“What was it doing?”

“Well, first it was pulling something along...like a body bag.”

“C’mon, really?”

“Nonono, I saw it too! I saw it moving, all by itself!”

“Wait, you didn’t see the phantom?”

“Can’t see something that doesn't exist, man.”

“Bro, I think you need to get your eyes checked, because he’s literally standing right over there with team ‘bad hair day’!”

One of the prisons pointed, and Simeon’s eyes followed.

He spat out his lukewarm carton of milk.

That was--

Why was--

How was he--

Simeon stood from his seat, abandoning his breakfast. Helmut sneaked one last bite before dutifully following.

With each step, Simeon’s heart beat louder and louder and—this just didn’t make sense, his eyes were playing tricks on him, right? Right?? He was quickly approaching the edge of the prison’s cafeteria, where three men congregated. One with black hair and an obnoxious streak of blonde dangling over his face, the other with a somehow similar yet worse haircut accompanied with a magnifying glass stuck to his right eye akin to a monocle. And the third?

“—still think you should, like, say something to him.” said the first one.

“I do most whole heartedly agree!” said the second. “If my superlatively impressive skills of deduction are anything to go off of, then I’d say the poor thing has no idea you did him a kindness!”

“One, don’t call him a ‘poor thing’,” said the third, with his back facing Simeon. “Two, what do you expect me to say? ‘Oh, hi again, miss me buddy? Here’s a peace offering fit for a peon. Let’s catch up over a game of chess!’”

“Zvarri! That’s it, my dear boy! Why not invite him to a friendly game of ghostly chess?”

“For the last time, just because some people only see me moving pieces like a fucking poltergeist doesn’t mean we gotta call it ‘ghostly’ anything. It’s just regular chess!”

“I dunno, man...that kinda sounds like the exact definition of ghostly chess,” said the other.

“Rick, I swear to god if I wasn’t worried of you haunting this place, I’d strangle you. And don’t give me that look, Luke! Sure, I can’t now, but I’m just out of shape!”

“I...don’t believe that’s how ghostly muscles works.”

The first one’s eyes wandered, and then saw Simeon. Right through the third man as though he wasn’t opaque. The first man broke into a sweat. “Uh, guys…?”

“Not now, you dick!”

The second one finally saw, and his eyes widened so far his monocle almost fell out. “Er, my lively unalive friend…?”

“Shut up, Luke! If you’re gonna say anything, then help me think up of what to say to Si’! If he can even fucking see me!!”

Both men glanced at each other, then back.

“...he’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

They nodded.

“And he can totally see me, can’t he?”

“Either that or he’s struck speechless at my deliciously dashing good looks?”

The first one rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. If he’s drooling over anyone’s ass, it’s mine. I’m a twelve outta ten!”

“Ha! Your ass makes cardboard look voluptuous!”

“At least mine doesn’t come with a stupid pinocchio nose!”

The second man gasped. “How...dare...you?! It’s my best feature!!”

“If you’ve, like, got a nose fetish.”

Snarling, the second man reached out, and engaged in a pathetic, yet energetic slapping match. The third man fell back to give them room and--

And phased right through Simeon.

Ice shot down Simeon’s spine.

“Crap! Si, I’m sorry, you okay?”

Simeon whipped his head around.

Bronco. Knightly.

In the ecto-flesh.

Partially transparent, bathed in a monochromatic, eerie glow, as though he was dipped head to toe in glow-in-the-dark paint. Pale as a ghost, and hovering above the ground like one, too.

They locked eyes, but Bronco immediately looked away. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, free of a neck brace, doing nothing to hide the nasty scar on the left side, glowing even paler than the rest of him.

Bronco cleared his throat. “So, um, I—”

“Shut. Up.” hissed Simeon. “If you’re not just some figment of my fucked up imagination, then listen closely, because I’m only saying it once. Whatever you are, leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.”

“Wh—What do you mean, ‘whatever I am’? Isn’t it obvious? I’m a ghost, for crying out loud!”

“And you’ll be an even deader one if you say one more word.”

“How?”

Simeon narrowed his eyes. “Helmu—” His voice trailed off when he saw Helmut, calmly sitting at his side. He didn’t look in Knightly’s direction, instead choosing to idly scratch his ear with his hind leg.

“Yeahhhhh he can’t see me.” Bronco said. “It’s like a fifty-fifty chance anyone can see me around here.”

“Lucky me.”

“Yeah, guess so…”

Simeon marched through Bronco.

“Hey, wait! I’m not done—”

Simeon turned around, only to spit at Bronco’s feet. Helmut trotted after him, leaving behind a disgruntled ghost, with a pair of bawling buffoons oblivious to the whole thing.

Chapter Text

The next month was agony. It was hard to say who had it worse, Simeon or Bronco.

At first, Bronco could only be seen from the corner of Simeon’s eye. But he gradually came closer, closer, until some days Bronco would dare to sit right next to him. Yet Simeon refused to acknowledge Knightly’s existence. He’d remain as still as a statue, glaring right in front of him, or, if Bronco was brave enough to approach him directly, right through him. The picture perfect definition of standoffish.

But Bronco? He was stubborn as a mule, despite his horse-like apperance.

It all came to a head one day when Simeon was paid a visit by an unexpected guest.

“Why, hello, Mr. Edgeworth!” Simeon said, all fake cheeriness. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Miles laced his fingers together, steeling an even gaze at the convict. “Believe me, the pleasure is all yours, Simeon Saint. I have come to extract some information.”

“Information? On what? How to fix all those brow lines? I’m afraid those are permanent, given your deposition.”

“No, I’ve come seeking your knowledge on Shelly de Killer.”

“Who, ol’ Frankenstein? What do you want with him? Is he your type, Edgeworth? You two would make such a lovely couple!”

“Mr. Saint, would you please take this seriously?”

“Says guy who dresses like a knock-off Shakespeare actor.”

“Nnnngh--!” Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. While he took deep breaths, Simeon’s eyes wandered.

His eyes met with Bronco’s. The ghost leaned against the wall opposite of him, giving a wave.

Simeon ignored him.

Bronco waved, again.

He averted his eyes.

Bronco waved both hands, desperately.

Simeon jerked his head away akin to a child refusing to eat their vegtables.

“Mr. Saint?”

Simeon blinked. Edgeworth sat there, calm as could be.

An intense tug of war raged deep within Simeon. To ignore Bronco, or torment Edgeworth?

The rope snapped, and the obvious victor reigned.

“Alright, Mr. Edgeworth,” Simeon said, interlacing his fingers and mouth a flat line. “I’m listening.”

“...Very well.” said Edgeworth, suspicious but undeterred. “Tell me how you first came in contact with him.”

“First through a letter, then we met in person.”

“A letter?”

“Yeah. The guy doesn’t trust anyone he can’t see face to face. You write a letter, and if you’re lucky, get an invite to meet him. He even gives you a free quote.”

“To whom was the letter addressed? And where?”

“Like I remember tha—” Simeon’s voice caught in his throat.

“What?” Edgeworth asked, as though his eyes weren’t glowing bright green and pointing in opposite directions.

Somehow Bronco had phased through Edgeworth and positioned himself juuuuust right to make his eyes gloss over Edgeworth’s.

“Mr. Saint?”

He blinked. “Oh, nothing. Just thought I remembered something.”

Edgeworth leaned forward. “What did you remember?”

“Oh, that the address changes all the time. I think he’s got a bunch of post boxes all over the country, maybe even the world. So it was a huge pain to find the one he was using at the time. But that was half the test. If you managed to contact him, then you must really want someone dead.”

“Do you remember any of the addresses? Even an old one?”

“Not rea…” Simeon paused.

“What? What did you remember?” asked Edgeworth, piercing his riveting gaze right at Simeon while a pair of ghostly fingers stuck out of his nose like luminous snot.

“Pfft--!”

“What’s so funny? I thought you were taking this seriously?”

“Oh, I—I am. Just had a...a tickle in my throat. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Edgeworth crossing his arms. As he rolled his eyes, a ghostly hand phased through his forehead, flipping the finger to make Edgeworth look like a crude excuse of a unicorn.

“Snrk--!” Simeon snickered into his palm, pretending to clear his throat.

“Simeon Saint, for the love of God, will you please not treat this as a jooOOOooOOKE--?!”

“Jesus--!” shrieked Simeon. He was so shocked he fell out of his chair, hitting the back of his head, hard.

The last thing he remembered was the horrifying maw of glowing flesh and bulging eyes Edgeworth’s face morphed into. He didn’t remember hearing a familiar voice calling his name.

“...ugh...ow…” Simeon groaned, rubbing his aching head. He blinked, staring at the ceiling. A faint smell of disinfectant clung the air. And he laid on something barely softer than his prison bed, but made with sticky, uncomfortable plastic.

Prick!

“Ow!” Simeon yelped. He shot up in a sitting position as he rubbed his right arm.

“There we go! All better!” chirped a voice.

Simeon looked up to see a young woman hoovering by his bed. Short black hair, a nurse’s uniform, and holding a syringe gleaming in the light, but appeared dull compared to the intense sparkle in her eyes.

“So glad you’re finally awake, Mr. Saint! Your visitor was rather worried when you fell.”

“Who—” Edgeworth? Or Bronco?

“Oh, silly me! I haven’t even introduced myself to my patient!” She curtsied. “Nurse Niedler, at your service! Have needle, will treat!”

“I--I don’t need needles, I need—”

“Ah ah ah, Mr. Saint. Doctor’s orders! If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself!”

Simeon opened his mouth, but the retort died on his lips when his eyes laid on the doctor standing right behind her. Loom would be a better word, with her massive size. The doctor, tall and wide enough to give President Wang’s body double a run for his money, wore a standard doctor’s coat, light green scrubs, and an antique doctor’s mirror atop her head. But those were the only discernible features Simeon could make out; the woman was covered head to toe in bandages like a mummy. Just a couple gaps for the eyes, a slit for the mouth and nose, and an opening at the crown of her head sporting a long, messy ponytail the same shade of brown as a medicine bottle. Pinned to her coat was a simple name tag: “Dr. Sarah S. Quash”.

“ Is this the doctor, or bigfoot?!”

Nurse Niedler placed her hands on her hips, triumphant. “Yep, your treatment is almost done! All you need is some bed rest and you’ll be right as rain! Oh! But if you can’t sleep, we can always administer a few sleeping pills intravenously!”

“Um, th—that won’t be necessary!”

“Oh, we don’t mind, Mr. Saint! After all, convict or citizen, we aim to treat all our patients with the best care possible! If it’s alright with the doctor, we’d be more than happy to, right?”

She nodded. The bandages at the right corner of her mouth twitched. Was she...smirking?

“No!” begged Simeon. “No needles! All I need is an ice pack, for christ’s sake!”

“Why didn’t you say so? Be right back!” With that, the nurse skipped out, followed by the doctor. However, not before the doctor gave a polite nod to the pale figure leaning on the door frame, who waved back.

“Hey,” said Bronco.

“Fuck you.”

“Well, at least you don’t have amnesia. That’s a good sign.” He strode over, despite his feet not touching the ground. “How you feeling?”

“Like I got scared shitless by the world’s most hideous ghost. What the hell was all that about back there?!”

“Jeez, it wasn’t my idea! Rick and Luke had a bet on whether or not I could get you to laugh, let alone look at me. Annnnd guess who’s five bucks richer now?”

“Don’t care, and how was...that supposed to make me laugh?”

“Look, it’s not like I wanted to scare you on purpose! It was an accident! I was just trying to make ‘Prosecutor Fancy Pants’ do a funny face or something!”

Simeon couldn’t help but snort. “That’s a good one, I’ll have to remember that for next time I see him.”

“Thanks.”

“So...what happened after I was so rudely nocked out?”

“They got the guards to lug you over here. You were out cold. Was kinda worried what they woulda done to you if you didn’t wake up.”

“What? Would the doctor have turned me into a mummy, too?”

“Oh, no, not the doc. Believe it or not, she’s sane. But she totally has a thing for the nurse, and I can see that...clouding her judgement and doing whatever that needle-holic wants.”

“Don’t tell me the nurse did all that to her? Make her into a human toilet paper roll?”

“Nah, she’s always been like that. Rumor has it she was in a bad car crash, but patched her own body up on the operating table. She won’t budge on telling me if it’s true or not. And before you ask, the doc can see me, but the nurse can’t.”

“Is that why you’re so chummy with them?”

“God, no. Besides, I’m on team ‘doc ‘n nurse finally get together’. You can even join the betting pool, if you want.”

“And you, too?”

“Just because I don’t have any monetary possessions doesn’t mean I don’t have a horse in the race! I’m dying to know how ugly their brats would tu—”

SHRIP--!!

Something zipped through Bronco’s face, right between his eyes. Simeon jumped as the object hit the wall. When the dust settled, it was a scalpel, a full inch wedged into the concrete. A tense beat of silence, before either man dared to look in the direction from where it came.

Dr. Squash, standing squarely in the doorway, one hand outstretched in the air. The other wielded several more scalpels, each sharpened to a surgical, precise, point.

Bronco stuttered, “I—I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I’m sure the nurse would give you beautiful children!”

“Not like it’d happen the other way around,” muttered Simeon.

Bronco snickered.

SHRIP—went another scalpel, right above Simeon’s head, catching a single, errant strand of red, and lodging that same hair into the wall.

The doctor wielded one less scalpel.

Simeon froze, hands midair in an awkward sign of surrender. Meanwhile, Bronco whistled a nervously casual tune as he looked away.

“...Mr. Saint.” came a low voice.

“Huh?” Simeon blinked.

Dr. Quash cleared her throat. “...Kanis will...return soon.”

“Wait, really?”

“The day...after tomorrow…” She narrowed her eyes. “So behave...or else...you won’t...be here...to welcome...him back…understood?”

“...Understood.”

Chapter Text

Kanis returned to prison, with nothing but a cast and a smirk. Helmut returned to his side, but the old man still had to take it easy, doctor’s orders. Though Kanis did not flinch at the imposing Dr. Squash, he complied without complaint. But which still meant someone would have to take Helmut outside to stretch his legs. And the only one happy to do it was Simeon.

Friday. The weather was nice. Recess for the convicts. Simeon walked Helmut outside, and his wandering stroll ran right into Bronco. He reclined against the very well he had been tossed in, snoring. Guess even ghosts enjoyed naps in the sun.

A devious light bulb lit up above Simeon’s head.

He gave a silent command to Helmut.

The dog wandered over to Bronco, both parties completely unaware of each other. Sniffing the grass, Helmut pawed at the ground before he--

“Zzzz...zzzz—huh, what…? Gah--!!” cried Bronco as he shot to the top of the well head. Pointing at Helmut, he yelled, “Bad dog, bad dog! Go take a crap elsewhere!! Si, do something!”

“Don’t look at me! I’m not an animal tamer anymore!” He shrugged with a shit-eating grin.

“You did this, I know it!”

“Call it payback for almost making me die of fright, then.”

Bronco growled, but dejectedly floated back to the ground. Taking extra care to keep a wide girth between him and the dog, he instead leaned against the opposite wall. “And I thought Luke was the petty bitch around here.”

“What did that walking hair disaster do this time?”

“He cheated at chess...in the worse way possible.”

“How? In that he succeded?”

“He fucking ATE my pieces when I wasn’t looking!”

“...seriously?”

“Seriously! How dare he disrespect my chess set! That’s the only damn thing I’ve got left in this world!”

“I mean, I didn’t think him the type.” He leveled a look at Bronco.

“...what’s that supposed to mean.”

“It means out of every convict here, you’re the one most likely to get off on sticking chess pieces up your—”

A shrill yell cut through the air. Everyone turned towards the sound; Frank Sahwit, standing in the middle of the courtyard, sans toupee. And where was his beloved hairpiece? Smack in the middle of the face of an enormous, imposing figure. When the hair fell, the furious expression on Furio Tigre’s face put a tiger’s to shame. Frank’s own expression collapsed into mortifying fear, and at the tiger’s mighty roar, ran for his life, the other man not far behind.

“Ooh, free entertainment.” Bronco reclined mid air, as thought laying in an invisible hammock.

“...Why are you here?”

“And miss baldy getting mauled?”

“I meant why you’re here, in general.”

“...I don’t follow.”

Simeon rolled his eyes. “Here! In this prison! You can literally walk through walls, not to mention people, yet here you stay, as through to torture my waking life.”

“One, don’t flatter yourself, I’m not here because of you. And two, I...uh, can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Go beyond the prison. It’s like...a force field?” Bronco fiddled with his fingers. Simeon could tell Bronco missed slinging his beloved gun around. “Believe me, I’ve tried. You think I want to be stuck with those two? The only way for me past these walls is to get channeled.”

“Channeled?”

“Yeah, which brings us back to my first point.”

“You mean your spirit was...channeled? And now you’re stuck here?”

“More or less.”

Simeon let the information sink in as he scratched Helmut behind the ears. “Who on earth would want to channel you, of all people?”

“Mr. FancyPants and...whatshisname, the guy who was gonna be your defense lawyer, I think.”

“Why? I can’t think of a bigger waste of time.”

“They asked about y…” Bronco’s lips went tight. “About a bunch of stuff. The president, Laguarde, that bastard Ro…” Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I...think it was to prosecute...you.”

“How chivalrous of you to rat out your best friend.”

“Oh, you wish.” He crossed his arms with a huff. “Now that I think about it, I don’t regret it, weird as it was.”

“Weird how?”

“Imagine one minute your drowning in the endless void, and the next you get sucked into the body of a complete stranger. Normally, I wouldn’t complain about being inside a cute girl, but not like that!”

“A girl?” Simeon paused in petting Helmut.

“Yeah. Maya Fey. A spirit medium in training. She’s also friends with Edgeworth.”

“I...did not expect that man to have such company.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, like I said, she was still in training, so when she went to send me on my merry way, she messed up and I ended up in the same place I died instead. And here I am.”

“So it’s that little girl’s fault I’m stuck with you?”

“’Ey, don’t diss on Maya.” Bronco straightened. “She may look like a hippie chick, but she’s actually pretty cool. She let me chill here instead of getting sent back to hell, and even channels me so I can see the outside world every now and then.” He leaned on his elbow with a grin, staring off wistfully. “Honestly, if I wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t mind having a coffee with her.”

“...Oh, really?” He said, not noticing Helmut raise his ears at Simeon’s sour tone.

“Yeah, but she’s already seein’ someone, so, oh well.” He shrugged.

“Thank goodness for her.”

An odd smirk crept on Bronco’s face. “Hey, take a guess who she’s banging?”

“Hmm, let me guess, our favorite prosecutor?”

“Close!” He leaned over as though telling a secret. “His little sister!”

“What?!”

“I know!” Bronco laughed. “Well, step-sister apparently. But trust me, the resemblance is there. She’s a total ice queen. And she’ll whip your ass in a heartbeat, literally!”

“...wait,” Simeon’s eye brows slowly rose. “You don’t mean Franziska von Karma?!”

“You know her?”

“She helped that pathetic prosecutor get me arrested, how could I not?!”

“Wow. Small world, huh?”

“And she’s dating your little friend?”

“Yeah. Can’t see me outside of her girlfriend’s body, though. But I saw her one time when she came by the prison, along with Maya. When Maya was around, she was more like a...like just an ice person.”

“’Ice person’? Are you sure your father was Artie Frost?”

“I’m just saying the crazy lady has a soft spot for Maya. I’m not into that mushy stuff, but even I have to admit it’s kinda cute.”

Simeon snorted dryly. “’Cute’? Are you sure you’re not just saying that in hopes they’ll let you in for a threesome?”

“...I mean, I wouldn’t say no if they—”

“Gross.”

“Hey! You’re the one who said it, not me! Maybe you’re the one who wants in!”

“I’m gay, you moron!”

“Then why don’t you go back to your dick harem so they can fuck out the cactus stuck up your ass! Oh, wait—you don’t! Because you’re a raging asshole with the hair of a Hot Topic cashier!”

“Excuse me?!” Simeon grasped at his hair furiously. “It’s not my fault I haven’t been able to keep up with dying my hair! We’re in a prison, not a salon!”

“Maybe that’s a good thing! Your bad hair will finally match the color of your soul!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!”

“Sounds more like a fuck you!”

“Fuck y--!”

There came a sudden thud from the courtyard. Both men looked up just in time to see Tigre body slam Frank to the dirt ground...and narrowly missing. He howled with rage, and Frank moved to sprint, but before anyone could make another movement, guards had seized their arms and restrained them.

“Aw, man!” groaned Bronco. “You made us miss the whole show!”

“Not my problem. We’ve both got better things to do.”

“Such as?”

“Go back to being a useless bodyguard to the bleach boys, I’m going to resume my walk with Helmut. Isn’t that right, boy?”

“Rrroof!” barked the dog as he jumped upon Simeon’s shoulders to lick at his cheek.

“Ack! Down, boy, that tickles!” Simeon giggled. The dog complied, sitting obediently at his side. “Aw, you’re a good boy, aren’t you? Yes, you are! Come on, let’s go on the niiiice little walk you deserve!”

“Hey!” yelled Bronco, but Simeon walked right through him. Bronco turned around to continue, “For the record, those guys WISH I was their bodyguard! They’re idiots, but not me! Are you listening?!”

Simeon simply chuckled to himself.

“What’s wrong, young pup?” asked Kanis. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

Simeon sighed, poking at his measly tray. At least Kanis had managed to sneak a few spice packets to flavor the globs that barely counted as nutrition. But they weren’t enough to stoke Simeon’s appetite.

“Pray tell, little one, what’s wrong?”

“...I’m on a diet?”

“Keh!” Kanis smirked. “You poor thing, your deceit has fallen out of practice. Besides, if anyone needs a diet, it’s Helmut.”

Helmut, who had been laying at his feet, suddenly perked up and laid his head atop his master’s lap.

“Oh, but how can we resist spoiling such a cute face? Isn’t that right?” He paused. “...Pup?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Oh, don’t be so down, pup. Sure, your first murder was less than a success, but it was an excellent effort nevertheless. I’m quite proud of you.”

“What does he have to do with anything?” snapped Simeon.

“Aha! So it is about the little colt!”

“Nngh!” Simeon cringed as though struck with a knife through the chest. “Wait...can you repeat that?”

“Hmm? About your murder being unsuccessful? I cannot say I recommend lingering on failure, boy.”

“So...you’ve seen him around? Bronco?”

“Why, how do you expect me to see anyone with my...condition?” he smirked.

Simeon face palmed; he could only pray if the day came that he should die at Kanis’s hand, that it’s free of any dad jokes. “Fine, you know him?”

“Yes. He came here about...a month before your arrival. When we realized we had been playing our chess match through you, we decided to simply resume where we had left off. I must say, he’s a rather fun opponent, in person and on paper. Though I haven’t heard from him since you arrived.”

“Huh…”

“You aren’t scaring off my chess mate, are you?”

“If anyone’s scaring anyone, it’s him, the freak.”

“My, my! I may be blind, but I don’t believe he’s that hideous.”

Simeon narrowed his eyes. “Can he...tell Bronco’s a ghost? Or that he’s dead?”

“Pup? Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He picked up his milk carton. “Just don’t wanna talk about Bronco.”

“Really, now? Because I believe he wishes to talk to you.”

Simeon glanced to his side, and spat out his lukewarm milk. Standing next to their table was Richard, Luke, and one very stubborn ghost.

“’Sup, old man.” said Bronco.

“Always a pleasure, little colt. Although I believe I’m not the one you’re seeking, am I?”

“’fraid not.”

“Next time then.”

Bronco nodded back before squaring his sights on Simeon. “Si, we need to have a talk.”

“Why? Isn’t that what those two buffoons are for? Gossip?”

“Silence!” snapped Luke. He glared at Simeon through his puny magnifying glass, his beady brown eye boring into him. “You’d best keep your mouth shut, you rudely ridiculous rascal!”

Bronco loudly cleared his throat. “Si, you and I are gonna have an overdue chat, or else.”

“Or else what? Not like you can touch me.”

“No, but these two can.”

Richard fluffed his hair while Luke adjusted his monocle with delicate fingers, both men smirking.

“...PffthaHAHA!!” Simeon bent over laughing, joined by Kanis.

Bronco scowled, while his friends behind him looked mortally wounded.

Simeon banged his fist against the table. “Aha...ha ha...oh my god, that’s rich. Congrats, Bronco, you finally got me to lauHAHAH--!”

Kanis wiped tears from his eyes. “Kehehehe--! Oh, do excuse me, young colt, but even I can tell your friends are not so violently inclined.”

Luke huffed, “Excuse you, but I was the vice president of the college boxing club! I have not the quietest qualm in showing mercy to you.”

“Yeah!” chimed Richard. “I mean, he’s lying about the boxing part, but we’ll, like, totally beat your asses!”

“How dare you accuse me of such a lowly crime as lying?!”

“You literally did that trying to get away with theft!”

“It was to get away with murder, you blasphemous blubbering baffoon!”

“Guys, can we just focus for thirty seconds and--!” barked Bronco, but it was too late. Luke and Richard devolved into a slapping match, making pathetic grunts at each pass.

Simeon cupped his chin in his hands, leaning on his elbows. “Ooh, dinner and a show? Why thank you, Bronco!”

“Shut UP!!”

“Don’t—” said Luke, but his purple prose was cut short at Luke shoving him in the chest. “WhoaAahaoh--!” He flailed as he stumbled backwards, until gravity won the battle and he fell square on his ass. But not before grasping at the table to try and stop his fall, yet accidentally flipping a food tray sitting precariously on the edge. It catapulted a projectile of edible sludge through the air. The slop soared in a perfect arch before landing dead center on the crown of Rocco Carcerato’s head.

“Gyah--!” yelled Rocco. The moment the slop hit, he spun around, head jerking in every direction for the culprit. “Oi, what kinda coward starts a fight from the back? If ya’ wanna fight, then come and take me head on! Fight me!”

“...FOOD FIIIIGHT!”

“Wha’? That’s not what I—”

SPLAT! Went another blob, landing square in his face. The air soon filled with barely nutritious projectiles and milk cartons and anything else a convict could get their grubby hands on.

Simeon yelped, dumping his tray to hold above his head as a shield. “Well, Bronco? Happy—” An apple core bounced off his tray, making him flinch. “—now?”

“Not really!” Bronco cried, despite every single item hurling through him like air. He wildly looked around, blanching at seeing Luke and Richard already drafted into the food fight. Running a hand through his hair, he turned back around, “Si’, we gotta get out of he—”

“Kanis!” Simeon ignored Bronco. “We have to get out of here!”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find this rather entertai—”

“’Scuse me, pops!” A man with three large scars on his right eye snatched at his food tray before chucking the plastic cup of a brownish gold substance to the opposite side of the cafeteria.

Kanis’s face immediately fell.

“Sir…?” asked Simeon.

“...I changed my mind.” Gracefully, Kanis stood from his seat. Helmut followed. “Excuse me for a moment, young pup. I have a coffee-honey greek yogurt to avenge.”

“Sir, are you seriou—whoa!” Simeon narrowly missed a smushed banana whizzing past his face. He cowered, feeling his heart race and his hands tremble. The man desperately fought the urge to cover his ears, or his eyes, anything to make it all go away.

Something cold grazed his shoulder. He flinched.

It was Bronco, hand still outstretched to get Simeon’s attention.

“What do you wa—”

“Don’t just sit there! C’mon!”

Simeon bit his lip, the cries of prison food warfare making his ears ring. Scowling, he jumped from his seat. He dashed after Bronco, whizzing through the air, wildly searching for shelter. A tray was frisbeed past Simeon’s head, knocking his own tray from his hands with a clatter. He yelped before covering his head with his hands and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Si! In here!”

Simeon followed Bronco’s voice.

THUD—”Oof!”--SLAM!

Simeon opened his eyes. It was so dark he couldn’t see, but he could certainly feel the wall he just ran into right in front of him. Rubbing his sore nose, he heard a click, and turned around. A single, dangling light bulb flickered to life, barely illuminating the storage closet they stood in.

“I...I think we’re safe.” Bronco looked around. “Just need to lay low until it dies down out there.”

“...On second thought, I’ll take my chances outside.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“I’d rather spend a week in that no-man’s land then be stuck here with you for another minute.” Despite his glower, sweat ran down his neck at the thought. He marched through Bronco.

“Really? This the thanks I get for saving your ass?”

Simeon grabbed the knob, turned, and... “Huh?” He jiggled the knob again and pushed.

“What’s up?”

“The door won’t open! It’s not locked but—” He shoved his shoulder against the door with a grunt, but it didn’t budge. “It’s stuck!”

“Lemme see that—” Bronco stuck his head through the door. As Simeon backed away, he saw Bronco’s body jump in surprise. He retreated, frowning. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?”

“No, I mean there’s a literal son of a bitch blocking the door! Some giant bastard’s out cold against the door!”

“Seriously?!”

“See for yourself!”

“…”

“...okay, fair point. But you get the picture!”

“Oh, I get the picture, alright.” He shoved a finger in Bronco’s face. “You did this on purpose!”

“What? Why the hell would I lock us in some dingy closet?”

“To ‘have a talk with me’?” Simeon used exaggerated air quotes. “Or else your loons would ‘fight’ me?”

“What? No! And I honestly wasn’t planning to sic them on you! Just, I dunno, convince you?”

“For someone so good at this elaborate chess game, you’re a bad liar, Bronco. Otherwise I’d be impressed.”

“Fine! If this is some chess game, then what’s my end goal? Become your BFF?”

“I’ll tell you what it is,” Simeon spat. “You just can’t get off your high horse, can’t you? Just can’t help rubbing it in my face, each and every day!”

“Rubbing what in?”

“Yourself! You think you’ve got it soooo good, don’t you? Surviving death and all that? And even managing a few pathetic loser friends?”

“Luke and Rick, yes. But—”

“Shove it! You think you’ve got it made, and the cherry on top? Getting to show off your measly accomplishments to the man who betrayed you your whole life!! Revenge, karma, whatever you want to call it, but I am sick of...of...ah...ah-CHOO!” Simeon sneezed, surprised to find his whole body shivering. His threadbare prison jumpsuit did nothing to protect him from the chill in the air. He could see his breath, and Bronco glaring at him. Hands in fists, mouth a tight line, and ice emanating from his ghostly being. Or rather, his lifeless soul was sucking up any and all warmth surrounding them.

“...are you done?” asked Bronco through gritted teeth.

“Sniff...w-why do you care?” He rubbed his arms.

“Because I was your friend!!” Bronco roared, the temperature dropping inversely with his volume. “All those years, I was your friend, I thought I was your friend, because you sure as hell was mine! You were back then, and were afterwards, too! But this whole time, how was I supposed to know the one guy who I considered my best friend hated every inch of my fucking guts when he never even said a single word?!”

Simeon glared at the floor.

“Well? Anything to say for yourself now?”

“...If you’re expecting me to forgive you, then you’re wasting your non-existent breath.”

“What?”

“You remembered, didn’t you? It doesn’t take a kindergartner to put two and two together!” Simeon hissed through chattering teeth. “That’s what you’ve been trying to do, hasn’t it? To earn my forgiveness from that one fateful day? You’d have better luck finding a unicorn grazing in the prison courtyard-d-d!” Simeon shivered.

“I. Beg. Your. Biggest. Pardon?!” growled Bronco. Foggy breath seeped past his teeth like the smoke from an angry dragon.

“W-W-What?”

“You? Forgive me? If anyone needs forgiveness, it’s you!”

“M--M--Me? What did I d-d-do? I was six years old, B-B-Bronco!”

“So was I!! And sure, now I know that doesn't excuse my actions, but at least I didn’t use that as an excuse to go psycho on practical strangers, let alone your friend! You...you used me, Si! And I hate being treated like a pawn! Life isn’t one big chessboard!”

“That s-s-sounds weird, coming from y-y-you.”

“I’m well aware, but are you?”

“Of w-w-what?”

“That this isn’t a game! Or if it is, then it’s over! I know I can be a sore loser sometimes, but holding onto a grudge for years? That’s ridiculous! You could have just talked to me, Si! I would have listened! Heck, I might have even helped you!”

“Y-Y-You...would?”

“Not anymore.” Bronco snatched the front of Simeon’s shirt, and, after a second of resistance, his fingers found purchase and pulled Simeon up. The cold seeped into Simeon’s skin, right above his heart, and he couldn’t breathe.

Simeon squeezed his eyes shut.

“Look me in the eyes, Si. Before I turn you into a human popsicle.”

Simeon hesitantly obeyed.

Bronco glared right through Simeon. Frost crept along his skin, making his ghostly form look even paler. The lightbulb flickered weakly, and when it did so, Simeon’s eyes widened at seeing Bronco’s ghostly skeleton glowing in the split second of dark, right beneath his ghastly flesh.

Simeon felt what he thought was cold sweat run down his face, but they were really his tears.

“...Tsk!” Bronco dropped Simeon to the floor.

Simeon grasped at his chest, gasping for air.

“You’re not even worth the trouble.”

“W...Why…?”

“Why what?”

With great effort, Simeon looked up. “Why won’t you kill me?! You could, but then you change your mind? None of this makes any fucking sense!!”

“Guess it wouldn’t to you.” Bronco stared down at Simeon like a disappointed parent. “But unlike you, I’m trying. I’m trying to be a better man than I was alive. And you can’t stop me. Because I’m dead. I’ve got nothing left to lose, not even my best friend in the whole wide world.”

“B-But don’t you want to? Take revenge? Get even?”

“No. I do what I want, and again, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“S-So what? You’re showing mercy just because you want to? Is that fucking all!?”

Bronco looked away. “...old habits die hard. What’s left to say?”

“...Just get out of my sight.”

“Oh, with pleasure.” Bronco turned and floated through the door. As he vanished, so to did the illuminating glow of his form, leaving the closet darker and darker until Simeon was left in a pitch black closet.

Simeon got to his feet. His lungs felt far too tight. He grasped in the air for the light switch, finally feeling the cord in his palm.

Click!

…

Click!

…

Click, click, click--!

“Damn it!”

Cli—SNAP!

Simeon’s heart dropped at the feeling of the cord going slack in his hand. He looked around, feeling the walls he could not see closing in on him. The only one not was the door.

He took a deep breath, then charged towards the door.

The moment his body made contact, it swung open.

Simeon was blinded from the sudden light, but he clearly saw stars as he fell face first on the hard ground.

“Owww...Son of a…!” Simeon pushed himself up. He looked up, and once the stars faded, saw Nurse Niedler pulling a large man with purple, pompous hair onto a stretcher.

“Whoa! Mr. Saint, are you okay? Do you need stitches? I’ll go get my—”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” he said, scrambling to his feet.

“Really? Well, if you change your mind, just say the word! Just have to get Mr. White to the nurse’s office first.” She secured the man’s limbs to the stretcher, tightly. “Dr. Quash got word that not only was he out cold, but that an inmate was stuck, too!”

“She...did?”

“Yes! Don’t know how she knew, especially with all the injured patients from the cafeteria! I’ve seen a lot as a nurse, but I’ve never seen such injuries from a yogurt cup, of all things!”

“Wh...Where’s Bronco?”

“Huh?” She blinked. “Bronco? You mean the Revned Broncos? I didn’t take you for a sports fan, Mr. Saint!”

“N—never mind.” “She can’t see him, you idiot!”

“Mr. Saint, are you sure you’re alright? I can fix you up lickety-split, no problem!”

“I...I just want to go back to my cell, thank you.”

That night, the evening air was warm, yet Simeon shivered all through his sleep.

Chapter Text

Simeon Saint, convicted prisoner, couldn’t remember the last time he felt so sick.

Not physically, he insisted, especially to the doctor and nurse. But everyone treated him like an emotional biohazard. How could one not? With his deep scowl, his fisted hands, and his dark eyes, he practically had a sign hanging from his neck saying in all caps ‘stay away if you value your puny, pathetic life’. Even Helmut gave him space, keeping a wider girth between him and Simeon during their walks. Not even the generous leftovers after Simeon picked at his daily meals were enough to entice him closer. Kanis remained, but Simeon could tell through well-meaning, morbid dad jokes that he, too, sensed it.

But Bronco? He was...just there. Didn’t move out of Simeon’s way, but didn’t react when Simeon would sulk through him. It was as though he, like the nurse, could not see him.

Yet at each passing, Simeon felt worse, and worse. He didn’t even pay any mind when the prison got a fresh batch of inmates last week. Nor when Helmut bit at his sleeve, trying to stop him from leaving Kanis’s cell one day, after a distracted chess match.

“Young pup?”

Simeon shot a glare over his shoulder like a moody teenager.

Kanis said, solemnly. “As a friend, I cannot control your movements. However, I sense a bad omen should you leave this cell. May I offer to let you stay even a bit longer? It will be no trouble, I’m sure the guards would be happy to ‘accommodate’ us.”

“...Sorry, sir, but I just want to be alone for a bit.”

“...very well. Tread carefully, pup, and I shall see you at dinner.”

“Mm-hm.” With that, Simeon sulked out of Kanis’s cell and past the guards. None of them dared to approach the inmate walking freely down the corridor. With fear in their eyes, they looked away, patrolling in the opposite direction.

“Good. They know their place.” Simeon thought, though he did not feel any better. In fact, when he rounded the corner, he felt worse when he ran into someone. “Oof!” He grunted. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”

The rude stranger turned around. Tall, broad shoulders, with several scars on his arms and left eye. His long, white, shaggy hair was pulled in a ponytail, with a mustache and beard to match. He glared down at Simeon with his one good eye. “Watch it, boy. I am in no mood for games.”

“Neither am I. Go brood somewhere else. Murderers are walking here.”

Instead of moving, he narrowed his eyes at Simeon.

“What? You deaf, old man? Here, have some sign language then.” He gave him the finger.

The man’s eyes raked up and down Simeon. “...It...it’s…”

“That’s right, it’s the universal sign of ‘fuck off’.”

“It’s...you…?”

“Who--?”

“...son...?”

“Whatever, old ma...an…”

Simeon’s heart stopped.

But a fist hit him before the realization did.

Simeon toppled to the ground. He moved to get up, but a sharp kick in the gut stopped him.

“You,” Gusto seethed. “You! If it weren’t for you—” Kick, “If you hadn’t had deserted me—” Kick, “--on that day, everything would have gone to pla—”

Simeon caught Gusto’s leg and as hard as he could, bit into the old man’s shin.

“Gyaaah!!” cried Gusto. He shoved Simeon away, but Simeon caught himself and got to his feet. “Why you little--!”

Simeon punched Gusto across the jaw, making the old man stumble backwards. As Gusto cupped his face, Simeon snarled, “Are you kidding me? My fault?! You’re the one who murdered Frost! You’re the one who abandoned me!! You’re the one—”

Gusto hurled his fist, but Simeon caught it. Then the other. They struggled, pushing against each other, before Gusto’s eyes lit with rage. He grasped Simeon’s hands and flung him to the ground.

Simeon’s breath was punched out of him when he hit the floor. Gusto moved to kick his head. Simeon rolled over. But before he could pounce, Gusto grabbed him by the arm and performed a shoulder throw, tossing him even further than before.

“Oof—ow—ugh--!” grunted Simeon as he tumbled across the floor until he crashed into the wall. He moved to get up, but his entire body felt as feeble as a newborn fawn’s.

Perhaps skipping meals for the past few days wasn’t the best idea.

Head spinning, he saw the blurry shape of his father approaching. Suddenly, something pale hovered between him and the man.

“B...Bronco?”

Bronco had his back to Simeon. He held a wide stance, straight in Gusto’s path. “Hey, Carmelo Fatso! If you wanna get to lil miss emo here, you’ll have to go through m—”

Gusto marched right through him without batting an eye.

“—annnnnd you can’t see me, great.”

“Not helping, idio—”

Gusto grabbed Simeon by his shirt and slammed the back of his head against the concrete wall. Simeon thought he heard something crack, but he used all his strength to block Gusto’s free hand punching him.

“You,” Gusto spat. “You were the worst excuse of a son in the history of man.”

“L—Look who’s talking, Dad of the Yea—”

Gusto used both hands to slam Simeon against the wall, this time by the collar. His hands were pressed so tightly against Simeon, they almost choked him. Simeon rasped for air.

“Do you have any, any idea what I had to go through for my art? How much was at stake?! You couldn’t do one thing, one simple thing! Something so simple even a child could do it, yet you didn’t—”

Bonk! Went something small and hard that hit the wall right beside Simeon’s left ear.

“Eh?” Both men looked down. At their feet sat a black knight chess piece.

Bonk! Went a black rook, this time grazing Gusto’s ear. Simeon looked over Gusto’s shoulder, and saw Knightly grabbing chess pieces from a nearby cell.

“Look out, Si! These were the ones that came outta Luke’s ass!” He chucked a pawn, this time hitting Gusto in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Gusto’s grip faltered.

Simeon dropped to his knees, then headbutted Gusto in the chin. He then dashed past him.

“Get back here, boy!”

“Si, this way!”

Running on adrenaline, Simeon ran after Bronco, who flew around a corner. Just as Simeon rounded the corner, too, a hand grasped his and pulled him into a cell.

“Wha—” A hand clamped over his mouth.

“Shh!”

“...Kanis?!”

Gusto ran, but stopped when he did not see Simeon in front of him. He stood before a set of stairs, less than two feet from Simeon and Kanis’s cell. Gusto cautiously stepped forward, right by them, nose flaring like a wild animal trying to pick up a scent. But before he could make another move, someone ran up and pushed him from behind.

“Wahgh--!” Gusto grunted as he tumbled down each step. Thud, thud, thud—THUD!!

At the top of the stairs, Richard proudly puffed out his chest. “Serial killers are so dumb. Why bother with weapons when you can let gravity do all the work?”

Unfortunately, Gusto growled as he moved to stand.

Simeon felt something rush past him.

In the blink of an eye, Kanis towered above Gusto, chisel in hand.

“Who the...hell…?”

“The grim reaper, if you take another step towards my pup.” The light reflected off the sharp metal. “I nor Helmut will make your death painless. Think carefully before you stand.”

A growl, and Simeon looked down. Helmut guarded Simeon, every fur standing on end. “Rrroof! Roof!!”

Then something cool grazed his arm. Simeon looked to his side. “B—Bronco?”

“And I’m armed--! Ugh!” Bronco grit his teeth as he used both hands to hold up his chess board, as though it weighed five tons instead of less than five pounds. But he persisted, attempting to wield it like a heavy, blunt weapon. He attempted to carry it towards Gusto, but his hands slipped under the great weight, and the chessboard clattered down the stairs. “Shit!!”

Gusto’s eyes bulged. “Th—That...that board...it…it…!”

“Wha…” Bronco’s eyebrows rose. “...ohhh. Okay.” Smirking, he picked up several pieces, and began to juggle them.

Gusto went as pale as sugar. “Wh—What sort of witchcraft is this?!”

“I’m afraid I do not follow, sir.” Kanis tilted his head.

“Heh heh!” chuckled Bronco. “Ooooh, look at this, these chess pieces are moving allll by themselves!”

“...Oh!” Richard caught on. He feigned fear, crying “Oh no, it’s him! It’s the ghost that haunts this prison! The vengeful ghost of an ugly man wronged by an equally ugly one!”

“Hey!” Bronco dropped his pieces. “Luke’s way uglier than me!”

“So you admit you’re ugly?” snickered Richard.

“Grrr!”

“I’m with Rick on this one,” thought Simeon.

“Woof?”

Simeon glanced down at Helmut, who stared curiously at Gusto. Everyone did, at the now gasping man, as though he was drowning on land. His left arm in particular spasmed weekly. Eyes vacant yet terrified, he collapsed on the floor, rolling onto his back.

“Ah...gah...ack…!” Each sound that passed by Gusto’s lips grew weaker and weaker, until... silence. Silence, and stillness. His entire body went limp.

“...hm, it seems my work here is not needed,” said Kanis as he slid his chisel back up his sleeve. “I do not know what you did, young colt, but it was just what we needed.”

“Whhhhat just happened?” asked Richard.

“I made him die of fright, that’s what!” Bronco guffawed.

But Simeon wasn’t convinced. He ran for Gusto, hesitated, then fell to his knees to feel Gusto’s pulse.

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Relief and joy washed over Simeon.

But then, an eerie blue glow washed over Gusto’s body.

Simeon was confused, then his heart seized.

“...Oh, shit!” Bronco zipped over to shove the glow back into Gusto’s chest. “We are NOT having that bastard haunt this place with me! I’d rather haunt with Rook than this guy!”

Just then, a man appeared from behind the corner, carrying a large, heavy box, cackling, “Zvarri! Have a murderous taste of my decisively deadly—”

“Boy,” said Kanis, evenly. “Take Helmut and get the doctor. Now!”

“But—But I haven’t even—”

Bronco barked, “Not now, Luke! Or so help me, I’m telling everyone what you and Rick do in the showers!”

Blushing bright red, Luke dropped the box and sprinted away. With a bark, Helmut galloped after him.

“W—What do we do?” Simeon’s eyes rapidly darted up and down Gusto’s body.

“Keep him alive long enough to die someplace else!” Bronco pushed on Gusto’s chest, but his hands phased right through. “Damn it! Simeon, don’t just sit there! Give him chest compressions!”

“R—Right!” Simeon placed both hands in the middle of Gusto’s chest. He felt sick, but swallowed the taste of bile at the back of his throat. He furiously pumped against his father’s chest.

“No, no, you’re doing it too fast!”

“I’m sorry, am I doing it too well?”

“No, just—’Staying Alive’!”

“What?”

“The song! You do it to the beat of ‘Staying Alive’!”

“...what?”

“’Staying Alive’? The song?”

“...uh…”

Bronco face-palmed. “Oh my god, I’m helping an idiot who was raised under a rock.”

“Sh—Shut up, not everyone has time to listen to every hit song on the—shit!!”

Gusto’s body grew cold, and that same glow rose above him, phasing past Simeon’s shaking hands.

“Oh no you don’t!” Bronco stomped Gusto’s ghost back down. “You’re not dying because your son is an idiot!”

“I am not! You’re the idiot, you...you...you bimbo!”

“...What?!”

“Shut up, I can’t think of a better insult, just keep him alive!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Bronco stomped at Gusto’s face, his gut, his balls, but the glow kept coming back. Cursing, he jumped down on Gusto with both feet like he was hopping mad. Each time, a ghostly grunt came from Gusto’s soul.

Simeon bit his thumb as he watched the spectacle. Cold sweat, racing heart, all the signs of life within him, all the signs he wanted to remain in his detestable dad.

“As—” STOMP! “—satis--” STOMP! “—fying--” STOMP! “—as--” STOMP! “—this--” STOMP! “—is--” STOMP! “—I--” STOMP! “—don’t--” STOMP! “—know--” STOMP! “—how--” STOMP! “—much--” STOMP! “—long--” STOMP! “—er--” STOMP! “—I--”

“—Gangway!” shouted Nurse Niedler. From down the hall, wheeling a stretcher, she and Dr. Quash ran to Gusto’s side. The doctor checked his pulse.

“...Ambulance...now!”

“Yes, doctor! Boys, stand back!” The nurse and doctor hoisted Gusto’s body onto the stretcher and took it away. Bronco chased after them, still keeping Gusto’s soul in check. As they ran, Nurse Niedler spoke on her phone to the 9-1-1 operator while Dr. Quash gave proper chest compressions.

“Doc!” said Bronco. “I don’t care what you have to do, keep this bastard alive until he’s out of this prison! I’ll do anything, I’ll—” He paused to hammer Gusto’s soul back down with his fist.

The doctor didn’t acknowledge Bronco.

They burst past the prison’s doors, right into a waiting ambulance. The doors slammed shut, and with the tires screeching, the ambulance raced down the driveway.

While the sirens blared, Bronco continued, “I’ll do anything, Doc, I’ll even officiate you ‘n Niedler’s wedding if I have tooOOO--!” Suddenly, he was gone, as though the ambulance drove straight through the bounds of his form, leaving him in the dust.

Dr. Quash wished she could have seen Bronco’s face.

“D—Doctor--!”

Without ceasing her ministrations, she looked up. The heart monitor was a flat line, with a matching monotone beep.

“...sigh.” Dr. Quash pulled back. She studied her patient. Dead as a doornail, but no ghostly aura. Most likely it had phased through and was left behind the racing ambulance, just like Bronco’s. “Time...of death...1:36 PM...Cardiac arrest.”

Nurse Niedler checked the monitor, Gusto’s wrist, then...her entire body slumped.

“Nurse…?”

“I—I know we can’t save every patient, and this isn’t the first patient I’ve lost, but…” She sniffled. “It doesn’t make it any e—easier…”

Dr. Quash placed a large, yet gentle hand on her back. She rubbed up and down her spine until Nurse Niedler’s tears subsided.

“Th—Thank you, Doctor...sniff...the world needs more great doctors like you.”

“Of...course…” Her shy smile reached her eyes. “Need...more...great nurses...like you...too…”

Nurse Niedler wiped the last tear off her cheek. “A—Alright. Which one of us should inform the next of kin?”

“I...will…”

“Okay. After we reach Hertz hospital I’ll fill everyone in, and get started on the paperwork.”

Simeon came to in his cell bed, sweating and shivering. His shabby pillow was drenched in sweat, and the flimsy blanket was carelessly tossed over him. “Ugh…” He groaned, sitting up.

“Nope.”

Simeon blinked. He hadn’t even noticed Bronco sitting at the foot of the bed, legs dangling over the edge. Glaring at him, he repeated, “you are NOT getting out of bed and dying of a fever on my watch.”

“Wh—What…? Wait, what about Gusto?”

“Dunno. I can only hope they either kept him alive long enough to haunt someplace else, or saved his life.”

“I hope that bastard died.”

“Me, too. But Kanis and the others are making a backup plan. They’re making sure to get their stories straight when they tell the guards what happened. And what happened is that old bastard attacked you, his own son, out of nowhere, to near death. You then shoved him down the stairs out of self defense, where he then suffered a heart attack from the stress. And absolutely no poltergeist shit was going on at the time.”

“Do you—” he wiped sweat from his brow, “trust your friends to stick to the script?”

“Eh, they’ll get it within the ballpark. Kanis will pick up the slack. Which, by the way, in your case, feel free to tell the truth.”

“Why?”

“The guards will just think all that ghost shit was a fever dream, it just might help our case. And be pretty funny, to be honest.” He chuckled.

“Fever dream…?”

Bronco’s face turned serious. “Si, I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but you’ve got a fever.”

“I—I’m fine, I—” He suddenly coughed.

“You’ve hardly been eating the past few days, right? And been in a real bitchy mood, too. All that stress while running on fumes, on top of that fight...no wonder your body gave out.”

“I...see.”

Bronco quietly studied Simeon, before he stood. “I’ll go tell someone to get you some water and shit. Hopefully Dr. Sasquatch‘s back by n—” He stopped when Simeon grasped for his hand, phasing through his palm. Bronco looked up.

“I...I…” Simeon wiped strands of hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. “I—I want you to stay.”

“...Oh, jeez, you’re sicker than I thought. Or did you hit your head in the fight?”

“Don’t…” His head swayed, suddenly dizzy. “Don’t leave me...again…”

“...I—”

Simeon wobbled, before collapsing back into his pillow. Eyes closed, with a flush to his cheeks matching his hair. His lips parted as he rasped for breath, and he felt sweat cling to every inch of skin.

Something cool slid close to him.

For the first time in almost two decades, Simeon sought out that coolness, and turned towards it. He sighed, sleep claiming him.

Chapter Text

Simeon awoke from a dream of being locked in a freezing car, but encased in a pair of strong, warm arms. Reality, however, was the opposite. He was still uncomfortably warm from the fever, but he was held in a cool, comfortable embrace. Glancing up, he saw Bronco’s face, peaceful as he slept. When he looked through his ghostly body, Simeon could just make out an all-purpose cart with a couple of pill bottles, empty dishes, and a mostly empty glass of water.

He vaguely remembered waking up briefly for some dinner and water, and taking some medicine before returning to sleep. That was probably why his body wasn’t aching nearly as badly as before. But still warm, despite himself, he leaned closer into Bronco’s body, his face grazing the left side of Bronco’s neck.

“Zzz—huh? Wha’…?”

“Oh,” Simeon backed up. “S—Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Jus’,” He yawned. “jus’ felt my scar.”

“Your scar? You mean here?” With a quivering hand, Simeon touched the scar on Bronco’s neck.

Bronco shivered. “Y—Yeah. Only place I can feel on my body anymore, ironically.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, just...feels different. Kinda like when your foot falls asleep, only it’s through your whole body, for just a second. It’s not bad, but...I guess I’m so used to not feeling things it makes it stand out?”

Simeon traced the outline of the scar with a delicate fingertip. Bronco’s breath hitched, but he remained still.

“Si’…?”

“…”

“You...okay?”

“... sniff—”

“Si’?” Bronco jerked his head back. What he saw broke his heart, though he’d not admit it for a long, long time.

Simeon Saint, with tears streaking down his face. “Y...You…” His voice cracked. “You didn’t...deserve to die...did you?”

“...no shit, Herlock Sholmes.” said Bronco, but he gently wiped Simeon’s tears dry with his thumb.

“I—I…” He sniffled. “H—How are you…?”

“I can make my body...like, tangible? If I concentrate.” He explained while tucking Simeon’s hair behind his ear. “But only for a short time. And I can only carry super light things. You saw me with my chessboard, right?”

“If—If it was so hard, why did you do all that?”

“Do what?”

“Help me? Save me from my dad? You—You could have just sat back and let it happen. You could have just let him kill me—” He hiccuped. “I—I killed you, yet you saved me! Why?”

“...’ve said it before. Old habits die hard. And in your grand revenge scheme,” He smirked morbidly. “I was your knight, wasn’t I? And sometimes you have to sacrifice a knight to win the game.”

Simeon hiccuped again.

Bronco’s expression turned serious. “Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not over you killing me. Not by a long shot. But,” then his face softened, “I can live with it.”

“...you’re dead, idiot.”

“And who’s fault is that?” He guffawed.

Soon Simeon’s chuckling joined him, their laughs bouncing off the walls. When the laughter died, a silence settled between them, neither comfortable nor unbearable.

“I think,” said Simeon, “I can, too. Live with it, that is.”

“So you won’t forgive me, huh?”

“To be honest, I...it’s been so long, I don’t even know if I remember how it feels to forgive.” Simeon let his head sink deeper into his pillow. “I...I might already forgive you, but I can’t even tell.”

“’S fine. Just cut back the bitchiness by at least fifty percent, and I’ll call us even.”

With a sniffle, Simeon glanced up. He locked eyes with Bronco’s.

“...hey, you’re still sick,” murmured Bronco. “Go back to sleep. We can talk once your fever’s gone.”

Simeon continued to stare. It was then Bronco realized Simeon wasn’t staring at him per se, but a touch lower, eyes focused on his--

Bronco’s eyes widened, Simeon’s closed.

Then, Bronco’s eyes closed. It never felt so easy to focus his energy into becoming tangible as he brushed his lips against Simeon’s.

To Simeon’s curiosity, Bronco’s lips weren’t soft like flesh, but soft all the same. He couldn’t think of the right word to describe it. All he could think about was how smooth they were as he slid the tip of his tongue against them. Inhumanly smooth, and it enraptured him.

Bronco pulled back, and Simeon whined.

“Hey, ‘s okay,” shushed Bronco. “But...let’s talk in the morning’, ‘kay?”

Simeon weakly nodded.

“...then we can continue where we left off. How’s that sound?”

He nodded again, with a slight smile.

Several months later…

Simeon paused before placing his rook. “Your move.”

Bronco stared at the chessboard, leaning over the lunch table.

“C’mon, man!” said Richard. He watched with rapt attention as he ate his prison slop. “You were able to beat me, of all people! Surely you can beat your little boy toy?”

“At least mine doesn’t resort to shitting pieces to cheat!”

Luke slammed down his milk carton. “For the record, I, Luke Atmey, did not discrete them in that disgustingly crude manner! The nurse induced me to vomit vehemently!”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Simeon leaned on his elbow. “Besides, if anyone’s a boy toy, it’s Broncy.”

Bronco rolled his eyes. “Har har, you’re hilarious. But it’s not going to distract me!” Just as he reached for a pawn, a large black nose beat him to it, sniffing it.

“Down, boy,” said Kanis. “You know better than to disturb a chess match, don’t you?”

“All done with your physical therapy, sir?” asked Simeon.

“Oh, yes. But please, finish your game first before joining me. I’d hate to interrupt you two.”

Bronco hummed as he picked up a knight. As he held it midair, Helmut’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the sight. Simeon could see the whites of the dog’s eyes as Bronco finally placed it, claiming one of Simeon’s bishops in the process.

“How do you like that?” boasted Bronco, twirling the bishop between his fingers like a stim toy. “Do you smell checkmate? Because I sure do! Right, old man?“

“Keheheh, I believe that’s a question better suited for Helmut. What do you think, boy?”

Helmut remained silent.

“Hmmm, either you’re playing so splendidly or horribly that he’s struck speechless.”

“It’s the prior, obviously!”

“We shall see, young colt. See you later, pups.” With that, Kanis nodded, and let Helmut lead him away to his usual table.

When he was well out of earshot, Simeon chuckled, “I almost forgot Helmut can’t see you. The poor guy looked like he saw a ghost!”

“Indeed!” nodded Luke. “Despite his resemblance to the almighty god Anubis, he has never been able to perceive our poltergeist.”

“What about Kanis?” Simeon placed his queen. “I...still can’t tell if he can.”

“I’m on team ‘yes, he totally can’!” Richard crossed his arms.

“Bah! Ridiculous!” spat Luke. “Remember that mundane midnight reading of ghost stories from last week? He just cackled villainously and said ‘ghosts aren’t real’! Bronco, you agree, do you not?”

“Hey, who am I to ask? It’s probably rude to ask someone if they can see ghosts. Like how you’re not supposed to ask a guy his dick size. Anyway…” Grinning ear to ear, he slammed his knight down. “Checkmate!”

Simeon huffed, crossing his arms in a show of faux disappointment. “Oh, dear, I’ve lost the game, to what spoils do we owe the victor?”

Richard gestured curiously with his fork between the two of them. “I’ve been wondering...like, is this how you decide who’s on top tonight or whatever?”

“What? No!” barked Bronco. “Don’t you dare taint my favorite game like that! And we’re not that kinky.”

Simeon smirked. “Says the guy who tied me up.”

“Really?!” exclaimed Richard and Luke.

“Wh—What?!” Bronco’s cheeks burned almost pure white. “N—No, it’s not like that! Really!! That’s taken WILDLY out of context!!”

“Pray tell, then, what other sort of contextual context are you referring to?” Luke held his magnifying glass right at Bronco’s face.

“And—And it was one time!!”

“Zvarri! You admit it!”

“Gahhhhh!”

The prison was never quiet, not entirely, what with a lack of privacy through barred cells, but tonight Simeon thought it was quiet enough to be considered peaceful.

“...Hey, Si’? You awake?”

“Mm?” He rolled over to see Bronco floating past the bars and towards the bed. He lay next to Simeon, but not under the covers. They had a system where, during colder nights, Simeon would remain cocooned in his blankets to shield himself from Bronco’s chilly form. His face peeked from beneath the flimsy covers. “Enjoy your walk?”

“Yeah...can I ask you something? Before you fall back asleep?”

Simeon yawned. “You’re welcome to try.”

“Remember when we were playing chess and you joked how I...y’know…”

“Are a boy toy?”

“No, no, after that. How I…” He swallowed. “Tied you up. That one time.”

“...oh. That.” Simeon shielded his face. “Guess that’s a pretty morbid joke, even for me.”

“Hey, I’m dead. Can’t get more morbid than that. But that’s not my point.” He laced his fingers together as he worked up the courage to speak. “Would you want to...or, be okay with, like, telling people that?”

“That you’re a kinky bastard?”

“That I...I...I almost killed you, Si’. Almost killed us.”

“...hmm,” Simeon played with his hair as he thought. “Well, Kanis already knows. But I’m not so sure about those two idiots.”

“Yeah. They mean well, for a couple of murderers, but…”

“...can you let me think about it?”

“Sure. ‘Till then, my lips are sealed.”

“They sure weren’t the other night,” grinned Simeon.

“I sure didn’t hear you complaining.”

Both snickered, akin to schoolboys.

“Hey, Broncy? Can I ask you something now?”

“Shoot.” He reclined, folding his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

“This was ages ago, but...I remember just before we met, the cafeteria was swarming with rumors of ‘phantom’ sightings the previous night. And they were saying ‘it’ was dragging...something?”

“Oh, yeah, that was probably me.”

“It was that blanket, wasn’t it? It was you that night, right?”

“Yeah. Wish I could have gotten you a better one, but moving even a shabby blanket is hard when you’re a ghost.”

“Why did you bother at all? We weren’t even on speaking terms yet, let alone on bitching terms.”

“Well…” Bronco glanced away. “You were cold. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let you freeze. Not again.”

“So you remembered that day by then?”

“Yeah?”

“When? Like, was it when you were alive, or not until after you died?”

“Um...like, about a year after we lived in the orphanage?”

“...What?!” Simeon shot up, startling Bronco.

“What?”

“You...you knew? All these years? You remembered?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Cut me some slack, I was seven! I had no idea how to even process it, let alone tell you!”

“But...what about when we reunited? As adults?”

“I...I was scared,” Bronco rubbed his neck as he hung his head. “I had no idea you remembered anything. That, and I only remembered as far back as trapping us in the car. I didn’t even have the full picture. I...I was afraid of what would happen if I told you anything. What if you didn’t remember, and would rather be blissfully unaware? Or what if you did, and I would just dredge up old wounds? Or what if either way, you would hate me afterwards?”

“I mean, I already hated you back then, but...that makes sense.”

“Exactly. So...I figured the best I could do was, from that point on,” He locked eyes with Simeon, “was that I’d protect you, no matter what. That I wouldn’t betray you ever again. That I would become the knight to your king.”

“...jeez, you just had to stick a chess metaphor in there, didn’t you?”

“Oh, god forbid a man have a hobby around here!” Bronco threw his hands up. “Fine, I promised I’d be your knight in shining armor. There, how’s that?”

“That works. And,” He leaned closer, “you’ve certainly kept that promise...after death.”

“...wish I could have in life. And wish you would have not been such a pussy ‘n talked to me.”

“...better late than never?”

“Yeah.” Bronco turned to face Simeon. He tucked some red hair behind Simeon’s ear. “In more ways than one.”

Simeon closed his eyes as Bronco’s cool lips brushed past his own before gradually solidifying. He felt Bronco’s hands phase through the blanket to feel the slender curve of Simeon’s waist. Whining, Simeon kicked off the blankets and welcomed Bronco with open arms. Bronco rolled on top of him, his ghostly form barely solid, yet already pinning Simeon down like a weighted blanket. Simeon reached up to run his own hands up Bronco’s body. It was odd, his fingers encountering a brief resistance before phasing through. But he soon grew fond of it, the stark contrast between warm skin and a cold spirit. And Bronco enjoyed it, too, if his sighs were anything to go off of. Or maybe he was just lost in sliding his tongue against the other’s.

“...ahem.”

Both men froze. Their lips broke, and they turned their heads to the opposite end of the cell. Lying with his back facing the two lovers was Simeon’s new cellmate, assigned less than two days ago. He remained so still, he appeared more dead than Bronco.

“...Looks like we’ve got an audience, Broncy.”

“Wanna give ‘im a show?”

“Hell yes.”

“That’s it!” went the cellmate. He flipped over and sprang out of bed. A young man, even younger than Bronco and Simeon, with dark circles under his eyes and short, black hair to match. He marched over to the bars and barked, “Guard? Guard! Anyone!!”

A guard down the hall swiftly marched to the cell. Scowling, she beamed her flashlight directly at his face. “Inmate Simon Blackquill, quiet! It was lights out hours ago!”

“How do you expect me to get any sleep with...with those two less than six feet away from me?!”

Confused, the guard shone her flashlight at the other side. Simeon shielded his eyes, while Bronco’s glowed like a cat’s.

“...Mr. Blackquill, I’m afraid I don’t follow. The only two inmates I see in here are you and Mr. Saint.”

“Wha—but—he’s--!” Blackquill whipped his head between the cell and the guard.

“Newsflash, big guy,” said Bronco. “You’re one of the lucky few who can see me. Congrats.”

Blackquill’s jaw dropped, but he shook his head. “Guard, take me to solitary. I beg of you.”

“You...want to go to solitary?” She blinked. “That’s new. Then again, your file did say you were a psycho.”

“I studied psychology! Now let me out!”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your manties in a bunch.” The guard rolled her eyes. She opened the gate, cuffed Blackquill, and led him out of the cell. “Man, wait ‘till I tell the crew about this…” With that, Blackquill and the guard left, their footsteps growing fainter with each step.

Bronco rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, what a downer.”

“Forget him, where were we?”

“You were about to commit necrophilia.”

“That doesn’t count with a ghost!... I think.”

“I dunno, I find it kinda hot.”