Short Ryden Stories

I'm Just Passing The Time - #6

A/n: thi is from our first guest writer @mychemicalrachel

I remember the first time I saw him. I thought I was crazy. Hell, I still think I'm crazy. Only now, I guess I've given into the mind tricks, embraced the insanity, and come to terms with the delusion. Except he's not fake. He's not a figment of my imagination. He's very much real... In certain terms at least. It's only in the physical aspect that he's lacking, really.

But I'm not crazy, and he's not an illusion. He's a ghost.

Even more so, he's my ghost-- The one that's been haunting me for the past five months. Though I'm not sure "haunting" is quite the right word. Most hauntings consist of scary sounds and objects flying across the room. Harassment is probably a more accurate term.

Yeah, that sounds about right; For the past five months, my life has been overrun and turned upside down by the harassment of the ghost of Brendon Urie.

It didn't take me long to realize what an asshole Brendon is. The second he appeared in the coffee shop-- causing me to abruptly spit my drink on the table and sputter out a few incoherent words about a man in the corner booth who was sitting on the table between a middle-aged couple, sticking his dick in the woman's tea-- I knew nothing would ever be the same.

He seemed to have heard me, as I managed to cause quite a scene, pointing a finger in his direction though no one else could see what I was seeing. He looked up, his dark eyes glimmering with amusement, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. He grinned and gracefully climbed to the floor. Quirking his head to the side, he studied me. By that point, a few of the workers were watching me with wary glances, my friends trying to get me to shut the hell up, but this strange man was coming closer to me and I wasn't quieting down anytime soon.

When he stopped, he

was a mere foot away. He was slightly shorter than me, his eyes a darker shade of brown than my own, and his hair only darker than that. "You can see me," He seemed mesmerized by this fact, proud and intrigued.

Swallowing down the uneasy feeling in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. "Of course I can see you."

He smiled again and his eyes flashed to the people behind me, my friends standing by unsure of what to do in the state of my current mental breakdown.

"They think you're crazy, you know," The stranger mused again. "You're talking to thin air."

"No, I'm not." My response was snapped, because he was right about the first thing; Everyone in the shop was looking at me now, standing in the middle of the room, facing off with a person they all claimed wasn't there.

Stranger tilted his head again. "Are you sure?" And just like that, he was gone. Vanished. Into thin air.

The next time I saw him was a few days later. I'd avoided the coffee shop for nearly a week after the initial incident of seeing him, but the caffeine withdrawal soon had me coming back. This time, I ordered a drink quietly. My head was down and my eyes scanned the faces at every table for the boy from before. He was nowhere to be seen as I collected my coffee, thanked the woman behind the counter, and turned to the exit. I nearly escaped without incident, but when I looked up to push the door open, I stopped dead in my tracks. There he was, standing between myself and the door, grinning broadly.

"I was hoping you would come back," He said. He folded his arms across his chest, showing no intention of moving.

I stepped slowly around him, like moving too quickly would make him pounce on me like a wild animal. Pushing the door open, I kept my eyes on him. He didn't move beyond turning his head to watch me leave, that damned smug smile still etched in place.