Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Y/n the Teenage Medium- Pt. 2

The final bell had already rung for the day, which meant it was time to work. Billie offered to pick me up from school, but I denied her offer. I still needed to do more research.

Tate answered my questions, but his replies were vague. He informed me he was shot but wouldn't tell me who killed him and why. He blamed the darkness that took over him- and failed to realize that 'darkness' was him. No matter what he said, he couldn't see a problem. Even when he told me Violet's mother was having his kid.

Surprisingly, it didn't take much to fish the information out of him. All it took was a deal- the deal that I wouldn't tell Violet he was dead. He wanted to be the one to notify her, and I don't know how the hell she couldn't tell. Not only do ghosts make the room cold, but some leave a scent, and hot or not, Tate smells like cigarettes and the teenage depression of the 90s- not to mention I had to teach him what YouTube was. Violet wasn't the brightest; she was still cute, though.

I needed to get my hands on the school's older files since Tate mentioned that he attended Westfield. There was a slight problem: I couldn't walk into the office and steal the files. I would need permission, and it would be impossible to receive. I'm a student. They can't hand those files over like it's nothing, especially with the weirdos that treat this place like a tourist attraction. They'd try to expel me; the massacre may have been in the 90's, but the area still held many involved souls. Dead and alive.

I was hardly on campus because of my work with Billie, so I never knew much about the school - only bits and pieces. I would need to ask for a favor, so I went to the library.

"Afternoon, Y/n."

It was Westfield's bravest soul; his wheelchair was proof of it. This room haunted him every moment of his life. It was a mystery why he stayed, especially when pay wasn't all that great, even after his act of courage. Some think it's because he's become the protector of this place.

"Hey, Mr. Carmichael," I greeted, "How are you today?"

"I'm here," he responded, "Feels like I always am. I was about to close up and leave before you arrived. It is after hours. May I ask why you are still here?"

"I was wondering if I could use this time to study," I lied, "I don't have many places to go. The public library is still being renovated, and this is the only place I could think of to go."

I hated lying to him, but if I told him the truth, I'd only piss him off.

"I understand, Y/n," he sighed, "But I can't stay here all night."

"I know," I suggested, "I wouldn't want you to, but I thought about it. What if you give me the key? I could study for a few hours, and afterward, I'd lock up?"

"That's not how things work," he chuckled, "Nice try, though."

I knew he would say no- it couldn't hurt to attempt.

"But, I know you'll somehow find your way back inside- you always do," he admitted, "So, I'll come back in a few hours, and you can help me lock up. Sounds like a plan?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Carmichael," I praised, "I appreciate this so much."

"Don't worry about it," he insisted, "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Have a nice day, Mr. Carmichael," I replied.

He could only hear me say goodbye as he exited the room, but I wasn't the only one. The five students who haunted this library did the same- they had made it their mission to protect him as he attempted for them.

They were a supernatural breakfast bunch. Kyle was your all-American football star. Chloe was a rare, kind-hearted cheerleader. Amir was a burnt-out intellectual with all the knowledge in the world since he had nothing but time to learn. Stephanie was your typical 90s rebel with a heart of gold, but it could quickly turn into coal. Kevin was a wallflower who never knew what he wanted out of life, but his time was already up to decide.