One Reason

“So... Mr. Squip.” Christine rocked back and forth on her heels, extremely uncomfortable with this whole situation. “How are we going to get our home back from the people who are moving in?” 

Squip had already taken the time to explain that since she and Brooke had died in their own house, they wouldn’t have to worry about leaving (he wasn’t clear on where they would even go, but he did warn them about the sand worms if they left) and they wouldn’t have to worry about being separated. They could still interact with objects in the house on a physical level, even if they couldn’t really do much to the living, which was why Brooke was curled up on one of the beanbags they kept up here. She was clinging to Chloe’s jacket, as she always did whenever she was stressed or scared.

Squip raised a brow from where he was sitting on an old table. “You know what’s stereotypical for ghosts to do, right? What are they most well-known for?”

Brooke frowned. “Floating through walls?”

“Scaring people,” Christine corrected gently. “You want us to haunt our own home and scare away the new people?” That was directed at Squip.

“That’s the only way to keep them out. If you scare them shitless, they won’t want to come. Granted, you might have the occasional paranormal investigator come around for their TV or internet shows, but no one’ll want to live in a haunted house,” Squip pointed out with a grin. “What would make a good guarantee that they’d stop living there is if you killed them, which is pretty easy to do.”

“We’re not killing anyone!” Christine reeled back a little in disgust. “That’s- we’re not killing anyone.”

“Yeah. They’re just looking for a place to live. That doesn’t mean they deserve a death sentence,” Brook added from where she was curled up with Chloe’s jacket.

Squip held his hands up. “Hey, it was just a suggestion. I’ve been around the block more times than you could imagine or even count. Sometimes murder is an option, but I get it. We won’t discuss that unless we need to.”

Christine nodded firmly, but she was a little shaky. She didn’t like to even consider that an option. “Good. Thank you.” Then she cringed and glanced over to Brooke. “I don’t know if I can be scary. I struggled playing villains on the stage, let alone actually being scary as myself.”

“Honey, I’m a marshmallow.” Brooke shrugged. It was true, Christine’s wife didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

“Well, that’s why we’re here. We’re going to workshop this.” Squip got off the table and clapped his hands together. “I want you two to think of the scariest thing you can think of. On the count of three, you’re going to tell me. Ready?” Christine and Brooke nodded. Oh, this was easy. “Okay. One. Two. Three.”

“People adding their own twists to Shakespeare!”

“Being forced to eat dairy without my pills.”

Squip sort of stared at them in shock before sighing. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie. You both, like you said, are the least scary people I’ve seen. Ever. That is saying something. Have you ever thought of why you’re not scary?”

“Er, no?” Christine chuckled weakly. “Normally not being scary is a good thing? Especially for a teacher.”

“Both of you are super polite. Middle class, suburban, and you both act super white. Thankfully, all of that’s finished tonight. Well, except for the white part. You sort of did that to yourselves, obviously.”

Squip gestured and Brooke sighed before standing up, wrapping Chloe’s jacket around her waist. “Take your places and show me your best scary faces.” He pointed to Brooke first. “Go!”

Brooke bared her teeth in a grimace and crossed her eyes. “That’s great, honey!”

Christine saw Squip look unimpressed, however, as he pointed at her now. “Bigger!”

Christine crouched down a little, made her hands into claws and scowled, shaking her head and sticking out her tongue. She growled a little as well. “Very scary, Chrissy.”

Again, Squip seemed unimpressed as he pointed back at Brooke. “Further.”

Brooke put her grimace on a bit stronger. So strong in fact that her jaw suddenly popped and just sort of... hung there. Dislocated. Brooke screamed in shock and Christine had to hold back her own. In the process, Christine’s head just sort of fell off and she struggled to catch it.

Squip clapped and pointed right at her disembodied head. "That is what I'm looking for!"

“How is my head in my hands?!” Christine screeched. Then an idea hit her. “Wait-“ she held it up dramatically by her hair (how was she even able to still move her body while she was like this? Or talk?). After quickly rubbing at the stump of her neck still connected to her body, it spurted a little ghostly blood which she couldn’t actually feel. “To be or not to be?”

Squip groaned at that. "Okay, maybe don't recite Shakespeare unless the person has a phobia of the dude."

Christine placed her head back on top of her body, grinning brightly. “I did it! I did something scary!” she cheered. Somehow, her head stayed in place this time. Brooke tried to say something but her jaw was still dislocated. After a moment, she seemed to realise that and she popped it back into place, also grinning.

“That was amazing, Chrissy!”

"It was scary until you recited Shakespeare," Squip almost grumbled. "Also you two screaming at what you did was not scary."

“We weren’t expecting it,” Brooke protested. “It’s not like we knew we could just disconnect body parts at random!”

"Well now you know. Just don't scream next time and you'll be somewhat scary. It's better than you putting bed sheets over yourselves at least."

“That would have just been dorky,” Brooke agreed with a shrug. Christine was about to say something when she heard a car pulling into the driveway. Huh. She thought the family had already arrived.

She headed over to the window and peeked out, spotting a kid climbing out of the driver’s seat. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen, and Christine was certain he looked like he’d been crying. He had that sort of shaky, wispy look that some of her students had when they were struggling.

“We can’t just go and scare this family...” She sighed. It would be different if that boy wasn’t involved, but he looked like he might break at the slightest provocation and Christine wasn’t going to risk that.

Brooke frowned, but the look in her eyes showed she agreed. She was so sweet and didn't have a mean bone in her body anyway. If she tried to scare someone, she'd probably make them laugh at her instead.

"So you're fine with these people taking your house then? With them coming in and taking your stuff, leaving you with nothing?"

“I mean, we’re already dead...” Christine sighed. “I just don’t think we should push that kid. He looks like he’s at breaking point already.”

“He... does seem fragile.” Brooke nodded as she walked over and peered out the window as well. “I’m sure we can find a way to keep them out of the attic. We can just hide our most important pictures and stuff up here, and go around the house whenever. It’s not like they could see us or anything.”

"They're going to come up here to clean the attic. They're going to store their stuff in here. You won't have anything by the end of next week."

“We can hide the stuff that actually matters.” Christine sighed. “Or we can try scaring off the adults. But I won’t-... I won’t scare that kid. I won’t even try.” She couldn’t.

Squip sighed and shook his head. "Well, you two are a lost cause then."

“Oh, so we’re a lost cause because we don’t want to hurt a kid? And one who is clearly going through something big at that?” Brooke snapped. Then she sighed and spoke a bit more gently. “Thank you for your help, but... I think the best thing is for us to think over our options before we make any choices.”

"You better make those choices quick. Being soft will only hurt you in the long run, especially since you don't have many options to begin with since you're, you know, dead." Squip waved, turning to the attic doorway. "All I wanted to do was help you guys, but you aren't accepting my help. Have fun scrambling around for what to do, especially since you two aren't scary."

Christine turned to at least apologize (she didn’t know why, but she felt like she had to) but Squip was already gone. “Well, I guess it’s just us.” She sighed. “Let’s see if there are any pictures we want to make sure no one finds. We can store them and the jacket under the load floorboard for now.”

Brooke nodded, though she was quiet as she reluctantly untied the jacket from around her waist. "Alright. I think I saw our wedding photo album near your old scripts."

Jeremy surprised himself when he actually made it back in time for dinner. In all honesty, he hadn’t been planning on coming back at all, so the fact he not only returned but he also actually made it at the right time was a little surprising. Maybe he was just curious to see if his dad and Marshal were actually going to cook or if they expected Jeremy to take care of them like always. It wouldn’t be the first time they had said they would do something and promptly forgotten, leaving Jeremy to pick up the slack. Especially Marshal. He always seemed to forget about any plans they made. That’s why Jeremy didn’t bother making plans with him anymore.

Jeremy unlocked the front door with the key he snagged when getting the car keys, and he slipped silently inside. After his almost attempt, he really didn’t want to talk to anyone who wasn’t Michael. Which meant he wasn’t going to talk to anyone, period. Maybe he should just find which room would be his until he inevitably offed himself. Then they could make it into an office or something.

His backpack wasn't there, so it must've been in whichever room was his. Jeremy went to head for the stairs, but the smell of burgers and fries stopped him in his tracks. Wait, burgers?

Slowly, Jeremy headed over to the kitchen, making sure to stay out of sight. His dad and Marshal were both cooking. Or well, Marshal was cooking and his dad was sort of panicking over the lettuce. He couldn’t seem to cut it right.  They were chatting and laughing and having a great time.

Jeremy’s heart sank. His mom was right, things were better without him around.

With a soft sigh and feeling more alone than ever, Jeremy slipped away upstairs. Hopefully there was a mattress in his room so he could just will himself to stop existing. At the very least, he could hopefully fall asleep.

Jeremy looked through the rooms until he found his backpack. It had a few pins on it that Michael had gifted him over the years. Every one had a specific reason for being gifted to Jeremy.

His backpack was in a room that was about the same size as his old bedroom. There wasn't a mattress, but there were some boxes. Right, the movers were coming tomorrow, so he'd have to sleep on the floor. Fun. Well, might as well start making himself a sort of bed to lie on. His sleeping bag had to be in one of those boxes. 

A few minutes later, Jeremy managed to locate the box cutter and was just opening the first box when he heard it. A shuffling from upstairs.

He was on the top floor, so that had to have been from the attic. And his dad and Marshal were both still downstairs, he could hear them talking if he strained his ears. 

Someone else had to be in the house.

Maybe it was a squatter? Either way, Jeremy kept the box cutter close as he went to find the attic. It took a few minutes since the stairs to the attic were hidden behind a door instead of being a pull-down staircase to the attic in the middle of the hallway. Weird house.

Jeremy tried the door and was surprised to find that the door was locked. Well okay, he already knew which key was for the attic. He slipped downstairs and tried not to let the laughter and joy radiating from the kitchen get to him.

The keys had been left by the doors so he quickly slipped off the heavy, black key from it and made sure to put back the car and front door keys in its place. Might as well not get himself into trouble.

After a quick dash back to the attic door, Jeremy tried the key. The door unlocked with a soft click. Clutching the box cutter close, Jeremy slowly started creeping up the stairs. The shuffling from the attic didn't stop, so maybe Jeremy could peek in and find whoever was here before calling the police. Maybe he could do something useful.

He poked his head into the main room and almost screamed from surprise. Two women were sorting through the boxes of photographs and papers without a care in the world, chatting and laughing softly when they spotted something familiar. That wasn’t why Jeremy wanted to scream though. No he wanted to scream because those two women were undoubtedly the two who had died in this house three months ago.

What? Just because Jeremy didn’t want to move here didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to do his research.

Upon closer inspection, he was certain that they were Christine and Brooke Lohst. There was no one else who they could be. But that made no sense. They died. Did that mean they were...ghosts? Jeremy’s heart sped up a little at the implications. Did that mean Michael could be a ghost too?

“Hello?” Jeremy called over to them, still keeping the box cutter close but also feeling suddenly less scared. Instead he was almost hopeful, something he hadn’t felt in almost... eight months? Something like that.

Both ladies jumped- Well, sort of. They were hovering, Jeremy realized. Their feet were always just above the floor. 

The shorter woman focused on Jeremy right away as the taller one held onto whatever she had in her hands. "Oh, uh... Hi there-"

"Wait, you can see us?"

“Um... yeah... I can.” Jeremy nodded, lowering his weapon. They just didn’t feel dangerous enough to need it. “Is that... surprising?”

"Well, we're-" The two ladies looked at each other before the taller one continued, "We're ghosts. We were told that the living can't see us unless we try to scare them."

“Well I can see you, and I’m alive. Y’know. Mostly.” Jeremy shrugged. “My name is Jeremy. I just moved here with my dad and my brother.” He waved awkwardly. “You’re... Christine and Brooke Lohst, right? The ladies who owned this place before us?”

The taller lady nodded. "Yeah, we are. I'm Brooke and this is Christine." Christine waved.

“Nice to meet you.” He was talking to dead people. And he was still alive. With a small smile he set down the box cutter. “Um, what are you two doing up here? If no one is supposed to be able to see you, why are you hiding up here?”

“We were trying to learn how to scare you guys out of here. Key word here is trying,” Christine said as she sighed. “We aren’t scary and... we didn’t want to scare you.”

Jeremy glanced around and spotted a blue bean bag. He gestured to it and Brooke nodded with a smile. “Thanks. And, well, mission accomplished I guess? You kinda spooked me when I heard you moving stuff around up here, but otherwise I’m... not all that scared. You’re both really nice so far.”

“Well, we don’t want to be scary, but we want our house back,” Brooke said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“In all honesty, I don’t want to be here. Maybe... I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to get my dad to move back to New Jersey.” He nodded. Hey, these were some of the first people in months to really recognise that he existed beyond trying to make him forget. He wanted to help them. Plus, they were really nice. He just automatically liked them. 

It was then he spotted the lifted floorboard and connected the pieces of what he was seeing. “I’ll try and hide the attic key too, to make sure this place doesn’t get stripped. And I could maybe hold on to anything really important, just in case? I know I wouldn’t want any of my stuff being taken...I can hide it in my room to stop anyone taking it and throwing it out.”

The eyes of Christine and Brooke widened. “Wait, are you sure?”

Jeremy nodded. “Well, this is your house, you’re still here. So really, we shouldn’t be here. So it’s the least I can do if you have some really important stuff to keep hold of. I know I have things like that...” He thought of the photo album of him and Michael growing up together and had to fight back tears. “So... is there anything you want me to hide in my room? No one will really go in there anyways...”

Brooke instantly got up and ran(?) to the other side of the attic. “Yes. I have two things off the bat. Er, well, three things actually.”

Jeremy flailed a little and tried to get out of the beanbag, only to fall back into it. Christine giggled and came over, managing to help him stand up. Her hands were icy cold, draining Jeremy of what little warmth he had, but it was somehow nice. Comforting. Probably since he hadn’t really had a hug or anything even close since the day of the funeral when he-

“Jeremy?” Brooke and Christine’s faces were suddenly in his own. “Are you alright?” Christine asked. “You’re tearing up.”

Jeremy blinked in surprise and scrubbed at his eyes. “Yeah.” His voice cracked. “It’s just been... a lot recently. And the fact that you’re here got me thinking about someone else who I... who I lost recently. And I’m wondering if he might still be around like you are.”

Christine rubbed his arm and Brooke his back. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Jeremy,” Brooke said. “Do you want to talk or...?”

No one had really asked him that yet. Everyone said how sorry they were, or how they wished things could be different or how Jeremy needed to take this incident and move on from it. No one had stopped to ask if Jeremy just wanted to talk. Not even his therapist had asked him that.

“I... I don’t know if I want to,” he admitted. “I- I haven’t... No one’s given me the chance.” He explained softly. “I... I miss him. A lot. He was my best friend and I miss him so much.”

Brooke and Christine both offered for him to sit and talk. “Talking about it will help,” Brooke said, nodding. “Trust me.”

“I might take you up on that.” Jeremy chuckled weakly, rubbing his eyes. “Not right now. But maybe later.” He nodded. “For now, you have stuff to give to me to hide?”

“Oh, right.” Brooke held up two different photo albums and a sparkly purple jacket that seemed very out of place for Brooke’s... whole being.

Jeremy gingerly took the photo albums before letting Brooke lay the jacket on top. “This isn’t... yours. Is it?” He recognised that look in her eyes. It was the same one he had when he took Michael’s hoodie to him in hospital, for a bit of comfort.

Brooke shook her head. “Nope. My best friend’s that I took after she killed herself.”

Jeremy nodded seriously, an understanding of how precious it was making itself known. “I’ll keep it safe. I won’t let anything happen to it, or to the photo albums,” he promised. “Let me just go stash this stuff. I’ll be back in a second.” He gave him a shaky smile before heading back downstairs.

After tucking away the jacket and books into one of his drawers (he could hide them properly later), he rushed back up to the attic to his new... friends? Were they possibly friends? Christine and Brooke were so much older than him, already almost thirty, and they were dead as well, but Jeremy sort of felt a connection to them. He thought they might be friends. He hoped they were. “I put it in my drawers for now. It’ll get stashed under my bed once that gets sorted tomorrow,” he told Brooke and Christine with a smile.

“Oh thank you, Jeremy,” Christine said with a warm smile. “You’re so sweet. W-“

Jeremy’s phone ringing cut her off. Who cared enough to call him? Jeremy pulled it out his pocket and checked. Why was Marshal calling him? “Marsh?” Jeremy hummed as he answered. “What’s up?”

“Hey Jerm. I was calling to ask where you were. Dad and I are just finishing up dinner. Are you still out? If you are, we can keep the food warm until you get back so we can all eat together.”

“I’m just upstairs,” Jeremy deadpanned. Honestly, he was a little stunned by this, and more than a little suspicious. Since when did they care about eating as a family? Or where Jeremy was for that matter? “I’ll be down in a second. Bye.” He hung up and sighed heavily. “I’ll be back later. And don’t worry, I won’t give them the key to get up here.”

“Thank you, Jeremy. Have a good dinner,” Christine said with a trying smile. “We’ll see if we can spruce this place up for you before you get back.”

Jeremy hesitated, then held out his arms questioningly. He knew that if they did hug him, they’d be freezing, but a big part of him didn’t care. He wanted to hug his new friends.

Both Brooke and Christine hugged Jeremy. It wasn’t the same as a Michael hug for many reasons, but it still felt nice and good.

And it was more genuine tactile affection than he’d received in months. As he pulled back, he fought the urge to tear up and just cling to them like he wanted to. “I’ll be back later. Or you can come visit me in my room, just knock on the wall or something before coming in so I know it’s you.” They both nodded and Brooke ruffled his hair. With a final smile, Jeremy left the attic and hurried down the stairs, locking the door as he went.

A minute later, with the key stashed in his drawer with the albums and the jacket and his hand washed in the bathroom sink, Jeremy headed downstairs to face his family.

When he walked into the kitchen, Jeremy saw his family setting up dinner... on the floor. Right. Movers. “Hey. I’m here.” Jeremy huffed, sitting down in front of the only spare plate.

Dinner looked so good. The patties were perfectly browned and Marshal had clearly taken the time to build it for Jeremy just the way he liked it. He even spotted that Marshal had left the pickles on the side instead of putting them in, since Jeremy liked to eat them separately. The fries weren’t too chunky and a glass or Mountain Dew code red had been set out for him. It was a beautiful meal. Jeremy was instantly on his guard. “Thanks for cooking, I guess.”

“Of course. A good first meal in the new house,” Marshal said with a small smile before eating.

Jeremy was quiet for a while as he ate. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the food tasted just as good as it looked. 

Silently, he wondered what angle they were playing here. Neither of them had asked him to do anything yet, and they hadn’t brought up any recent failures either, but something must be up. They never cooked without a reason.

Jeremy got more and more paranoid as they ate in silence. Only when everyone had finished did someone speak up. “So, what did you do on your drive earlier?” his dad asked.

“I drove. Ended up a bit outside of town and came back.” Jeremy shrugged. He wasn’t going to volunteer any information until he knew what they were aiming for.

“Oh, did you see anything cool?”

“There was a pretty nice pond with a stream attached to it.” Ah. There was the inevitable flinch. It just solidified that they knew exactly what happened at the funeral and still refused to address it, which only proved to Jeremy that it was the right thing to do.

Marshal gave Jeremy a soft, shaky smile. “Well, at least you’re getting familiar with the scenery and everything around here. Maybe you could show me the place this weekend?”

“Why? So you can cancel on me last minute like you always do?” Jeremy snorted, his tone sharp and venomous. “Thanks, but I’m tired of setting myself up for disappointment.”

“Hey, your brother is trying, Jeremy-“

“Trying to do what exactly, dad?” Jeremy turned his glare on his father. “Trying to get me excited? Trying to get me to care? Two years I’ve been trying to spend even an hour with him and he hasn’t even given me that!” Jeremy stood, averting his eyes so they wouldn’t see the tears which were building. “And neither have you. I’ve fucking tried to kill myself twice and it’s only now, three months later, that you have any time for me. Gee, thanks for the love, dad. Same to you Marsh, thanks.” He took a breath, quieting his voice a little and trying to calm his raging pulse. “Thanks for dinner. I’m going to set up my bed.” He turned to leave. “I’ll try not to kill myself on the way up. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you like that.”

His words seemed to stun the two to silence. They didn’t say anything as Jeremy left. “That’s what I thought,” he angrily muttered to himself as he turned to head up the stairs.

He made sure to slam his door when he closed it. It echoed through the house and didn’t give Jeremy even an ounce of satisfaction. 

For once in his life, he really wished he had been proven wrong. Even a halfhearted apology would have helped. Even a single word in their defence. They just... didn’t care after all. The only reason why he didn’t try and set up a noose right then was because he had a purpose. He was going to help the ghosts in the attic, he was going to protect their stuff and get them their home back.

Even so, it didn’t stop the tears. It didn’t stop the pain. And Jeremy didn’t try to hold them back either, he just curled up against the door and mourned for the family that used to love him.