BBS One-Shots

the ghost of you (Terrorsnuckle)

"So, what do you think?" Brian asked, sifting through the jackets that hung on the racks in the dimly-lit store.

"You know you look fantastic in anything." Brock smiled from beside him, leaning over Brian's shoulder.

"Well yeah," Brian smirked. "But, I need a new jacket after what happened to the other one."

"Yeah, we really couldn't get that stain out, huh?" Brock chuckled. "David did offer to come with us today, maybe he could've helped?"

"Nah, I need some alone time with you." Brian smiled at him, grabbing a black jacket similar to his previous one. "What about this one?"

"Looks good! And it's got pockets. Very practical." Brock nodded in approval.

Brian laughed lightly. "'Course you'd like the pockets."

"I do like them. You're always complaining about not having anywhere to put your phone, and I think that pockets would be quite handy for that." Brock replied. "C'mon, let's pay and leave; I don't like the looks the other shoppers are giving us."

"Yeah, okay." Brian muttered, moving over to the counter to pay for the jacket.

Once it was all over and done with, they headed outside into the late-evening air. Brian put the jacket on.

"Hm, my old one was comfier." Brian hummed, stuffing his hands in the pockets.

"Ah but the pockets," Brock's said, pointing to them. "You're using them already."

"Suppose I am." Brian giggled, heading down the darkening street.

"I'm not gonna say I told you so..." Brock grinned, strutting along beside him.

"Oh, I know."

"..."

"..."

"I told you so."

"Wow."

"Shut up."

"No, you've hurt my feelings now."

A car whooshed past. It splashed through a puddle on the road. Brian froze.

"You okay, Bri?" Brock asked, looking over at him.

"Y-Yeah, just a..." Brian swallowed and shook his head. "Just a bad memory."

"The past is the past, right?" Brock smiled warmly. "Let's go get inside, hm? You'll catch your death out here!"

"Ha, you sound like my mam." Brian chuckled softly, continuing on.

When they reached the small apartment, Brian took the jacket off. He hung it up on the hook he used to hand the old one on.

"Hot chocolate?" Brock asked."

"Nah, think I just wanna sleep." Brian sighed, making his way into the bedroom, Brock not far behind him.

They flopped onto the bed, and shoes were thrown to the ground. Sleep was found in no time, but it wasn't exactly peaceful.

The car was going way too fast. Especially for the quiet street it tore down.

The rain pounded down, making it difficult to see. The road and pavement glistened with the water and streetlights. Neon signs on the stores reflected colours onto the ground and lit up the road.

The car skidded, probably because of the wet roads. It skidded all the way over the path. Blood flew.

"No!" Brian had screamed. "No, no, no! Please!" He had screamed until his throat felt raw.

There really wasn't much hope, though.

He gazed down at the lifeless body of his boyfriend, tears streaming onto the already soaked path. Soaked with rain, and now blood.

The driver had survived either. Part of Brian was glad. Brian didn't like that part of himself. Besides, he was a bit busy grieving to have a damn moral dilemma as well.

He could call an ambulance. His hands were quite shaky, though. Did he even have the strength to pull out his phone? Probably not. He didn't even have the strength to stand or speak. He simply fell to his knees and held his lover's hand for the last time.

Brian woke up in a cold sweat, frantically scrambling to see to the other side of the bed. Empty, as usual.

Brian clutched the blankets and sobbed into them, muttering "I'm sorry." and "I love you." to nothing.

Sometimes ghosts haunt you because they love you.