Ascension

by Bailey Bradford

  Then he realized he was just being a fool indeed. Conner had never come around him before. It was stupid of him to think the man would do so now. And dead or not, Conner was a man to Ro. He would always be that handsome, charismatic-looking guy from the newspaper clipping that Ro had ogled for over a decade now.

  Ro laughed out loud at that. How ridiculous was it that he’d spent almost half of his life crushing on a dead guy? No wonder he’d never had more than a couple of unsatisfactory quickies. He’d let his teenage romanticism rule his adult life, and he was only now realizing it. Maybe if he hadn’t been so content to just plod along—but he had been, and he was. There was nowhere else for him to be but where he lived right then. Ro had no desire to move away from McKinton, or from his family.

  But he didn’t have to be pathetic and start hallucinating about someone who’d been dead for ages and who had never bothered to appear to him in any manner before. Best to stop that before he ended up in a psychiatric hospital. Ro shuddered, remembering Sev talking about being put in just such an institution as a child. Sev’s parents hadn’t believed that he could speak to the dead, had thought he was just insane.

  Or else they’d just wanted him silenced. Ro thought that was more likely. He remembered his grandparents, and they weren’t nice people at all. Ro hadn’t seen them since he’d moved to McKinton a dozen years ago.

  That odd sensation was gone, he realized. Ro was mildly disappointed, but put that down to his mental state. He was going to lose his mother soon, and he was lonely even surrounded by family.

  Ro left the bathroom, not really thinking about anything at that point. He stopped, stunned and suddenly mortified. The file folder he’d set aside was open, its contents spread neatly on the bed. Conner’s picture was there on top, surrounded by all the snippets and printouts of everything else having to do with his case. Before Ro could figure out what that meant, chaos erupted in his room. A maelstrom of paper spun in rapid circles above his bed. The sounds of it whistling through the air were punctuated with ripping noises as bits of paper were shredded.

  “Stop!” Ro shrieked before he thought to censor himself. He ran and started grabbing at the papers. “Stop it! Damn it, stop! This is all I have—” Ro bit his tongue, hard enough to taste blood, but better that than finishing what he’d been about to say if Conner was the one creating the mess in Ro’s room. He would have died of embarrassment if he’d blurted out that the flying papers were all he had of a man he’d never have, of a man he measured all other potential lovers by. Stupid, he knew, but it was what it was. Ro couldn’t seem to prevent the infatuation he’d harbored for so long.

  “Please,” he said as the papers kept being ripped to shreds. He caught one and saw that it was a piece of the news article about Conner’s brutal death. Ro was truly mortified and sorry. He could understand Conner being upset at seeing it. “Conner…please stop. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  The papers spun around again, but within seconds the speed had dropped until they were barely moving in the air. Then they dropped, all but one. Ro watched as the picture of Conner rotated to a stop several feet above the bed. He didn’t feel that electric current so much as it seemed to be a part of him just then, just as his blood and lungs and heart were. The picture crinkled slightly, the paper bowing as if someone were stroking over it. Was Conner looking, remembering? Did one remember who and what they were when they died, if they stayed on Earth?

  So many questions, and Ro couldn’t ask them. Even if he could, Conner couldn’t answer. He thought it had to be Conner there with him, though the why of Conner’s appearance eluded him.

  The picture shook, then it was snapped hard, the edges of it going taut just before it dropped to the bed. There was an almost palpable withdrawal of the force that’d been there, like a vacuum sucking power out of the room, and Ro knew he was alone again. Alone, and rattled, and in dire need of a hand-vac, because Conner had shredded every damn piece of paper except the one with his picture on it. Ro was grateful for that, at least.

  Chapter Four

  So much for thinking he didn’t get bent out of shape over his past. Conner huddled in the corner of Ro’s room, shrinking down into the smallest, darkest patch of shadows he could find. He’d thought—well, it didn’t matter what he’d thought.

  Conner had been bored, and remembered that he should try to check in on Alma and Roger more often, and Ro, of course. Alma had looked perilously close to crossing over to his side of existence, or on to Heaven or Hell or wherever. It’d been too depressing, so Conner had popped in on Ro and found the young man a mess.

  A very sexy mess, and Conner had wanted to comfort him. He ached in a way he couldn’t remember feeling, though it reminded him of Laine for some weird reason. Before he knew it, he had been stroking Ro’s hair. Conner had had to concentrate, but he’d managed to feel the silky strands, the warmth of a living body close to his ethereal one. Faint beginnings of arousal had begun shortly thereafter, causing Conner’s dick to fill. That had been surprising, although he’d been turned on sometimes when he’d peeked on Laine and Sev. Just, it hadn’t ever been enough to make him truly horny. Sex hadn’t been a pressing need in years, obviously, but Conner had found himself suddenly wanting to bury his hard cock in Ro’s ass.

  Which, in turn, had made him feel like a total perv. Conner hadn’t been able to leave even then. Maybe, if he’d just been wanting to fuck Ro, he could have, but there were memories of Ro over the past years that had embedded themselves in Conner’s heart. He’d kept away from Ro for so long, especially after that one time he’d peeked and found Ro in the alley behind Virginia’s Café with that…that scumbag. Conner had wanted to kill the man fucking Ro’s sweet mouth. It had infuriated him, and had scared him because of the intensity of his reaction.

  Conner had told himself it was because he’d watched Ro grow up, but there, in Ro’s bathroom, Conner had kind of faced the truth. It was depressing and awful, but he thought he might be a little bit in love with Ro. Maybe it was just years of familiarity, or maybe it was simply loneliness. Conner knew Ro was lonely. How could he not be? And Conner himself was finding out that he wanted more than just to haunt and tease his living friends. He was glad to help them, and happy to have saved their lives a few times—but he was dead, and they weren’t. They all had someone, and he had…Stefan, who was a good friend, along with some other spirits. Was that all he’d ever get to have?

  He’d freaked upon seeing the file Ro had on him. The clippings were old, Conner had seen the dates on some of them. Something inside him had snapped. He didn’t want Ro pitying him, and didn’t want Ro thinking of him as the poor, dumb idiot who’d gotten himself tied up and carved into pieces.

  Seeing the picture of himself had been like being tossed from a hot skillet into a bucket of ice. Conner had had such a mix of emotions in him then as he’d looked at that picture, and now as he thought about it. He tried really hard not to think about what-ifs or dwell on regrets for past mistakes. All that did was depress him.

  But seeing himself in that picture—he’d kind of forgotten what he’d looked like. It was odd, really. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen his own reflection since he’d come into his current state of existence. He was sure he had an appearance, because he saw Stefan and other spirits. They looked like people to him, like living people except the colors of them were muted somewhat. And, of course, they could go all in spirit form, floating and disappearing, turning into balls of light or ripples of color on the breeze.

  Had he just not cared to see himself? Could he see himself? That was easier to deal with than thinking about Ro and the confusing feelings that had arisen then. Conner zipped over to Sev and Laine’s. He immediately felt like a self-centered asshole when he saw Laine holding Sev on the couch as Sev cried quietly.

  Shit. He must have got an update on Alma. Conner didn’t hesitate, making his way to his friends and sending out comforting thoughts as he concentrated on touchi
ng them both. Death was a hard thing to deal with, and he wished he could do something for them.

  “If…” Sev sniffled and rubbed his nose on Laine’s chest before continuing. “Conner, if she joins you, tell me, okay? Can… Can you make her stay, like you did?”

  Conner found the words he wanted—they always seemed to be floating in the air when he tried to speak to someone who was alive—and pushed the words at Sev. “No. I don’t even know how I ended up here. If I could, I would do anything to help you.”

  It was strangely like growing up, a rapid maturation that had Conner feeling all of his years then, the living ones along with his spirit years as well. Seeing so much pain in his friend’s expression, in Laine’s, too, changed something inside him.

  Pranks didn’t seem nearly so interesting after that, and for a solid week he didn’t bother teasing anyone. Instead he sat back and observed the mourning process when Alma passed quicker than anyone had expected. She didn’t linger, her soul bright and vibrant as it shot up further than Conner could see, and he was too afraid to chase after it. He didn’t want to go wherever it was she went. The idea scared him to his core. Sev cried harder when Conner told him Alma wasn’t with him.

  “At least she isn’t suffering anymore,” people told Alma’s loved ones at various times. Conner knew that was small comfort if it was any comfort at all. Sev seemed to have aged almost overnight, and Conner realized his friend had stopped bothering to color over the gray streaks in his hair.

  Conner tried to shake Sev out of his funk, planting hair dye bottles in various places, but after Sev poured a bottle of it down the drain and stomped off, Conner gave up. He couldn’t help Sev, it seemed.

  Nor could he ease Ro’s pain. Conner kept his distance, because he wanted so badly not to. He wanted to swoop in and hold Ro, to comfort him like Laine comforted Sev more and more now. But Ro seemed untouchable in his grief.

  Conner had had to stop checking on Ro the third time he’d found him in the alley with a stranger. Conner hadn’t hung around long enough to see who it was, had just noted a dark shape grunting as he slammed into Ro’s ass over and over. Conner had felt sick and angry. He’d fled before he could do something he’d probably not regret, like using the trash can to beat the guy who was fucking Ro. With his luck, he’d accidentally have killed the asshole and ended up spending eternity fighting him in the afterlife.

  After that, Conner forced himself to stay away from Ro like he had for years. He tried to, at least, but sometimes he slipped and would find himself watching Ro through the windows of Virginia’s Café, or visiting with Sev and Laine. Conner didn’t know how much time passed, but Sev seemed to recover somewhat from the loss of his sister. The gray streaks were once again dyed over, and eventually he began to laugh, that spark lighting his pretty eyes like it had before.

  But Ro… He only seemed to grieve more. Conner couldn’t help but notice that Ro looked worn and thin, as if he weren’t sleeping at night or eating enough. It broke his heart, which alternately surprised him and shocked him. He hadn’t thought he’d truly felt so strongly for Ro. Maybe he had even thought he was too flighty to feel such strong emotions for someone besides Laine and Sev.

  He thought about how it had hurt, losing Laine, not only when he’d died, but to another man. Granted, Conner had kind of pushed Sev and Laine together, but that was only after he’d concluded that he wanted Laine to be happy, and that Sev was the man to make him so. Didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt the first time the two had struck sparks off each other. Conner had been jealous, and careless, and he’d almost killed Sev in his confusion.

  Conner didn’t want to feel like that again. If he stayed away from Ro completely, maybe he’d get over the guy. To that end, Conner tried to find someone else who turned him on. In the spirit world, there was no one. Stefan was cute enough, but Conner couldn’t shake the image of him as a little brother. The other spirits in the nearby vicinity were either straight or female, neither of which would work for him, obviously. It occurred to him that he didn’t have to stay right there in McKinton. While he seriously doubted there was a spirit-world version of a gay club where he could go and get laid, there had to be some way of hooking up with others like himself.

  It was the idea of the gay club that guided him. Conner was considering it as he leaned against a tree on the outskirts of McKinton. Stefan found him there, lighting down beside him and grinning happily.

  “What are you thinking about, Conner? You look so serious, and that’s just weird.”

  Conner growled at Stefan right before he tickled the young man. Stefan squealed and batted at his hands, but Conner dug his fingertips in against Stefan’s ribs.

  “Stop! Oh my God, I’m gonna pee!” Stefan laughed and Conner stopped tickling him long enough to cock an eyebrow at Stefan.

  “You do know we don’t pee?”

  Stefan huffed and tossed his head back as if he had a mane of flowing hair rather than the short, spiky tips he’d always had. “Duh, unless you want to pee, then you can.”

  “What are you talking about?” Conner asked, feeling stupid. He’d been a spirit longer than Stefan, so he should have known more, which meant Stefan was pulling his leg.

  “I’m not screwing with you. Just cuz we’re dead doesn’t mean we can’t do things like pee or beat off.” Stefan rubbed his palm over his crotch as if to emphasize those points. “It doesn’t mean our dicks don’t work.”

  “You’re just messing with me,” Conner told him, but he had a bad feeling he’d just been willingly ignorant. He’d been able to get hard, once he’d bothered to give enough of a damn to do so. He was considering going and trying to find someone.

  “Am not.” Stefan unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.

  “Stefan!” Conner wasn’t a prude but that was just…wrong.

  “Stop being such an old fart.” Stefan aimed his shaft. “Now, I don’t really feel like I need to do this, but I guess I just always enjoyed taking a piss before, so it didn’t occur to me I couldn’t do it here.”

  Conner didn’t want to look, but he had to.

  Sure enough, a stream of clear liquid was pouring out. “I mean, it isn’t yellow, and like I said, I don’t have to do it. I don’t think it’s even wet, not like I’m gonna stick my fingers out and check. Now, when I jerk off, that leaves my hands sticky and wet.”

  “Thanks for sharing,” Conner choked out.

  “You really didn’t know?” Stefan asked, sounding surprised. “How—well, maybe sex just isn’t a big deal to old guys like you. I didn’t think it was so great when I was alive, but I knew it could be. Someday I’ll find someone young and hot here in our world, and we’ll fall in love and fuck all the time.”

  “God, spare me from romantic goofballs.” Conner shook his head. “You think we can fall in love?”

  “Why can’t we? We still have feelings.”

  Conner didn’t have an answer for that. He glanced up at the sky, and something tugged at him. Fear settled cold in his bones—or where they’d be if he had any—and he started to panic. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he didn’t want to go, not up into that vast blue space, and it felt like something was trying to get him to sail up and up—

  “Conner? What’s going on?”

  Stefan’s worried voice popped Conner back to the here and now and the spot where he stood. Conner gave Stefan a mock-glare and caught him around the neck. “I’m not ancient, just old enough not to be led around by my dick,” he said as he gave Stefan a noogie, rubbing his knuckles back and forth over Stefan’s short hair.

  “Geezer!” Stefan whooped as he jabbed at Conner’s ribs. Conner had to let go before he ended up a giggling pile of goo. His ribs were very ticklish.

  “You seriously didn’t know about…” Stefan made a rude gesture of self-pleasure.

  Conner shrugged and hoped his face wasn’t red. It sure felt like it was. “I hadn’t really been in the mood.” For years and years and years. Being sexually traumatiz
ed will do that to you. Conner had never told Stefan how he’d died, and Stefan had never asked.

  Stefan’s eyes rounded and his mouth pursed into an ‘o’ before he asked, “How can you ever not be in the mood?”

  Conner slipped, giving away more than he meant to then. “Sometimes things happen that make sex unappealing.” He turned and shot up, skimming a few feet above the ground at so quick a pace that everything was a blur. He was too afraid to go higher, that tug from moments before still fresh in his mind.

  “Where are we going?” Stefan asked.

  Conner should have known he couldn’t outrun the kid. He could pop off and leave Stefan, but that just seemed mean. Conner slowed down, surprised when to see that they’d gone right past the town limits.

  “Well, I was thinking. Where could a guy go to get laid?”

  Stefan looked down, then turned those big and all-too-innocent eyes on him. “Um. I guess since we’re both gay—”

  “No.” Conner felt bad when Stefan cringed. “Look, I didn’t mean it bad. It’s just, you’re like a little brother to me. I freaked out over you whipping your dick out to…to take a fake piss!”

  “It wasn’t fake,” Stefan grumbled. “Felt as good as when I used to do it before.”

  Before. I fucking hate that word. “Okay, but that’s beside the point. I still think of you like the brother I never had, Stef. I can’t mess around with you.”

  Stefan studied him closely then nodded. “I guess so. As long as it ain’t cuz you think I’m ugly or got a little dick or anything like that.”

  Conner almost snorted. “That wasn’t a little dick, buddy. Trust me when I tell you that, and yeah, it’s just the familiarity. I refuse to admit to you being anything other than cute.”

  Stefan wrinkled his nose at that but grinned. “I’ll take it. So what’s the plan, man?”

  Conner told him, and Stefan was all but bouncing in the air. “Oh, I want to go! Please? Pleasepleasepleaseplease? It’s not like anyone can hurt me now, and maybe I’ll find someone!”