roommate [shane/ryan]

👻 chapter two 👻

Shane sat on his new bed, in his new room, in his new house, in his new neighborhood, in this new town that they're making their new start in. The word seemed to echo in his ears. New. New. New. Almost robotically, Shane began to bite his nails: a nervous habit that formed during his early teen years. The thought of an absolutely blank slate was both intimidating and exciting to the teen. Every person in the world craves what he now has. A chance to start over, to right wrongs, and to reinvent yourself as an entirely new person. The absolute breadth of the possibilities left a sticky feeling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

He stood up and walked over to his mirror. His reflection stared back at him, the same as usual, and he sighed. Everything about him was so plain, from his flannel shirt to his blue jeans. His wardrobe rarely changed, save for the clothes his mother would occasionally buy him when he just outgrew his old ones too fast. He didn't really have a set sense of style, either. The clothes on his body were usually just the ones that caught his eye first. There was no theme, no greater aesthetic. The only theme seemed to be "Clothes That Fit and Shane Kind Of Likes," and for years, that was okay. But being in this new town? He wanted reinvention.

Maybe I could be goth?  he thought to himself, before laughing at the thought of his tall, lanky frame clothed in all black. The mental picture of his eyes circled in black raccoon eyeliner was certainly entertaining, but he just didn't feel like it would be a good fit.

Or punk?  His mental picture shifted to him in combat boots and ripped jeans, tattoos on his arms and piercings on his face. Again, totally fuckin' sick, but just not Shane.

Preppy? The thought of going into a store and buying pastel polo shirts and khakis was very unappealing to him. His dad wasn't even a lawyer, so how could he even threaten anyone? He could certainly wear the Vineyard Vines shirt, but he didn't have the personally to match. Next.

Hipster? Shane thought maybe this one was attainable. He certainly owns enough flannel and he does wear glasses sometimes, but he doesn't know any of the cool indie coffee shops in the town and he can't even play a weird instrument, like the mandolin or the banjo.

He sighed and sat back down on the bed. Maybe his current style was fine after all. He doesn't look bad, per se. Just not too memorable. But maybe that's what he needs! To just blend in to his new surroundings and try not to cause too much of a fuss. Besides, it wasn't like he-- Suddenly, his thrilling internal monologue was interrupted by a loud bang on his wall.

"Mom?" he called downstairs. When a response never came, he hurried to the window and looked out, confused and certainly startled by the loud sound. Out the window, Shane spotted his mom getting the last boxes out of the car to bring inside. A sudden feeling of uneasiness settled over his body.

If the sound wasn't from his mom, then what could have possibly caused it? He began to bite his nails again as his brain racked through the possibilities. Maybe something fell down in the next room? Or downstairs? Maybe the house is just settling? Or it could be that stupid ghost the crazy realtor was talking about? He shook his head at the last idea.

Ghosts aren't real and he was certain of it.

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a/n: ooooooh ooky spooky kooky happenings!!!