//
Peter had finally come to terms that he was a spirit and there was nothing he could do about it. But he had to make sure Violet didn't know, unsure how she'd handle the news.
But Tate had taught Peter some things only ghosts can do. One of them was being invisible to the living which Peter wanted to try out and planned to as he remembered that people were coming over for the open house.
Peter was against the open house because that meant Ben and Vivien would leave but Peter and Violet are stuck forever.
Peter stood by the stairs as Marcy walked into the house with a well-dressed man.
"The house is a classic LA Victorian," Marcy began as they walked past Peter who didn't even notice him. "These are real Tiffany fixtures." Peter followed them but he was still unseen. "Everything was meticulously restored by a couple of the previous homos-" she paused. "Owners. Homeowners."
Peter chuckled. "Nice cover-up, Nancy," he remarked but he was still unheard.
"Fags have such a great eye for detail, don't they?" the man asked.
"A queer eye."
"Dick," he spoke, making his voice known to the man who glanced behind him to see who said that but he didn't see anyone there.
"Let me show you the kitchen," Marcy continued, absent-minded as they walked into the kitchen to which Peter kept following. "Please help yourself to nibbles."
The man saw Moira cleaning to which he said, "I don't see you on the brochure. You come with the house?"
"Uh, she does, actually," Vivien said, walking in from the backyard. "This is Moira. She's worked for consecutive owners of the house. Uh, Vivien Harmon."
"Mr. Escandarian was in the neighborhood to look at that gaudy Mediterranean two blocks up," Marcy stated.
Peter stood beside Moira who gave him a small smile in greeting.
Peter had just learned that Moira was a ghost as well who tended to be very kind towards Peter.
"It's about two-thirds the size of this place, and they want almost twice as much," the man continued. "Of course, the Mediterranean has a swimming pool."
"There's room for a pool here," Marcy stated.
The man looked out the window. 'I'll have to tear out that gazebo."
"I think that's a fine idea," Moira told him. "A swimming pool would be just the thing. How deep would you make it?"
"Very deep," the man answered.
"Good. I like it deep," she said lustfully. "You'd have to dig up the entire yard."
Peter chuckled at the man flirting with Moira as Marcy spoke, "Uh, Mr. Escandarian, would you like to see the rest of the house?"
"Actually, I just have one question: what's wrong with this place?" The man asked. "The land alone is worth as much as you're asking."
"Mrs. Harmon is a motivated seller," Marcy said.
"Um, and I would also like to be candid with you that this house has a history that I find troubling. The people who lived here before died here, violently, and apparently, they weren't the only ones," Vivien told him.
"Yeah, me," Peter remarked but only Moira heard him to which she smacked his arm in a motherly scold. "What?" he asked her.
"...So I just want to be very straightforward with you about that, if you are in fact interested," Vivien finished.
"I am interested," the man told her. "If it looks like you're going to get a serious offer before you hear from me, let me know." He handed her a business card. "I'll be in touch."
"I'll see you to the door," Moira told him. "If you decide soon, you might have your pool by summer."
"Wow, it does work," he told Tate who saw him from the walkway near the door.
"Told you," Tate replied.
Peter approached. "I guess being dead isn't completely awful," he stated before pressing a long kiss to Tate's lips.
Tate was the first to pull away. "I know you're against it but maybe you should tell Violet that-"
Peter immediately shook his head. "No, she can't handle it. She reacts differently to stuff than I do."
"You won't know until-"
"Tate, I love you but I've made up my mind," Peter replied.
Ever since that day they died, Peter had told Violet that Tate was a different person and that they have no reason to be scared of him.
She believed her brother and the three of them had slowly become a small group of friends.
Tate had decided to let that go as they both went upstairs.
"I'm going to check on her," Peter told Tate but her room was empty. He moved to the bathroom where the door was wide open. Violet was standing in front of the mirror, drawing the blade across her arm. "Dammit, Vi! Stop!" he told her. Violet turned to look at him as he approached her. "Let me see that."
Peter grabbed the blade, tossing it into a small trashcan nearby before turning on the sink to wash away the blood since he knew the wound would heal in a few minutes.
"Why are you getting so mad?" Violet asked him.
"Because it's gross," he replied. "You're mutilating yourself."
"You do it too," she fired back.
Peter pulled his shirt sleeve to show that his scars on his upper arm were years old, not fresh like hers. "Not anymore," he told her before grabbing her wrists. "Vi, promise me you'll never cut yourself again. And this time, mean it."
He did cut his arms up when he was younger like she did but that's only when his and Violet's grandmother past and he felt invisible to his family.
Violet paused for a moment, she knew Peter cared about her and only wanted the best for her but she just couldn't help it before.
"I promise," she told him.
"Good," Peter said. "Now, come on. Tate's here."
5 minutes later, Violet sat on her desk while Peter sat in her desk chair, spinning mindlessly in circles as Tate sat at the foot of her bed, reading a book.
"Violet, Peter and I were going to watch a few scary movies tonight if you wanna," Tate spoke.
"I can't," Violet stated. "They planned some brutal family dinner for tonight. Like it's going to make us feel better."
Peter groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. "Shit, I forgot about that. Maybe tomorrow, Tate," Peter told him.
Tate nodded and was silent for a moment until he spoke up, "Do you believe in ghosts?"
Peter looked at him with wide-eyes and a small head shake while Violet asked, "Why do you ask?"
"I don't know," Tate answered. "It can't all be shit, right? There's got to be someplace better, somewhere." He looked at Peter and Violet. "For people like you guys, at least."
"Not you?" Peter questioned.
"Ever since you got here, this is the better place," was all Tate replied.
***
AI'mew hours later, Violet and Peter sat at the dining room table with Ben and Vivien who were both eating plates full of food.
Peter's eyes just glazed over the edges of the plate in front of him, usually, he'd just eat food for his parents so they were happy with it and while he could do so, he just couldn't get hungry anymore.
There was no point and his family was unhappy regardless.
And it was clear to Peter that his sister was feeling the same thing because she wasn't eating either.
"You're not eating anything," Vivien spoke to her children.
"I'm not hungry. Pretty stuffed on bullshit," Violet replied.
"Amen to that," Peter said with a small chuckle but he didn't smile.
"Your mother and I know that you're both upset," Ben began. "Maybe there's some things you want to talk about."
"Like who we're going to live with after you get divorced?" Peter asked, trying to keep up his facade. "You're gonna separate me and Vi, right?"
"Is there a third option?" Violet asked. "'Cause both of you kind of make me want to kill myself."
Peter stayed silent and let her continue because the only real option they had was to stay in this house.
"Is that what you guys are afraid of?" Violet continued. "Why else would you want to try to actually deal with the problem?"
"You never leave your room," Ben told them. "You barely eat." Peter's eyes flickered to his plate. "These are textbook signs of depression. We're very concerned. For the both of you."
Violet stood up, about to walk away until she said, "Look, you guys drag me and Peter all the way out here to save our family, then you decide to break up. You buy a house that we actually like, then you're telling me you're selling it, without even asking us what we want. So, fine, I'm depressed. But I'm not going to off myself. So, you can go back to your policy of benign neglect."
Violet walked away to which Peter stood up and Vivien asked, "You're siding with her?"
Peter sighed. "Mom, look. I get why you want to sell this house but she's right. You just chose what you wanted to do without asking us. We have lives here now. People we actually hang out with and despite the history, this is probably the nicest place we've lived in. So yeah, I'm siding with Vi."
He followed after Violet, going upstairs.
***
The next day, Peter wondered the halls from upstairs after he left his room.
He stood in the middle of the hallway when he heard the sound of an object rolling above him.
Peter slowly looked up at the attic as the rolling continued. Peter could guess it had to be a ball of some kind.
Maybe it was just Tate messing with Peter, regardless, reached up. pulled down the string to pull down the attic stairs before climbing up them, ignoring the creaking under each step he took.
He made it into the dark, humid attic, reaching up to turn on a light bulb nearby that barely gave any light.
"Hello? Tate?" Peter called out.
In response, a small red ball rolled out of a dark corner, hitting the front of his shoe.
Peter slowly picked up the ball, looking it over. There were signs of small tears in the leather around the ball along with some teeth marks.
Suddenly, a figure popped out of a dark corner nearby, happily yelling, "Play!"
Peter jumped at the sudden movement in the attic and instinctively backed away but his back had hit someone's chest.
It was Tate who grabbed Peter's arm and pulled the boy into his side almost protectively but Peter's eyes were still glued to the figure.
"You're scaring him," Tate told the figure. "Go away!" he yelled to which the figure backed away into the dark corner and was gone.
"Jesus," Peter mumbled.
Tate softly brushed his thumb against Peter's cheekbone. "Pete, it's okay. Calm down, okay?" he told his boyfriend softly.
"I'm fine," Peter replied. "Who was that?"
"They're from the past. The ghosts of people who've died here. They're appearing to you now because you're evolved," Tate answered.
"You mean dead," Peter replied. "Do I have a reason to be scared of them?"
Tate shook his head. "No. Don't be scared. All you have to do is tell them to go away. And they will."
Peter nodded, taking that into mind.
He was unaware that he'd eventually say go away to the last spirit he'd never wanted to say it to.
"You really know your way around this house," Peter said, shoving his hands in his jean's pockets.
"I guess I do," Tate replied, his hand moved to Peter's interlocking his fingers. "I got something cool I want to show you."
"What is it?" Peter asked him.
"Come on," Tate told him, leading Peter to another part of the large attic. He removed his hand from Peter's to squat alongside the wall and remove a small board. "Look at all this great shit I found."
He pulled out a large jar of...Peter didn't know what but it looked like if he took the top off, it'd stink up a room.
Tate pulled out some magazines and said in a small feminine low voice, "And check this out."
Peter grabbed the magazine, looking over the cover to which he laughed, "Man's got ass for days." Tate glanced back at Peter with a small smile to which the Harmon boy met his gaze. "Don't get any ideas, Tater."
Tate chuckled. "Whatever you say, Pete."
Peter did want to eventually have sex with Tate but still. It was fun to taunt.
"I think gay porn is hot," Peter stated, placing the magazines down on the floor.
"Totally," Tate agreed, pulling out a large box from the wall.
Peter pulled the latches off and pushed the lid open.
If he had to guess, this was either surgical science stuff or kinky sex stuff-he frankly couldn't tell.
Peter turned his attention to Tate who pulled out another small box. "What's in that one?"
Tate handed the small black box over to which Peter opened it.
He picked up an older picture of a baby sitting in a high chair, another older picture of the house, and another photo of the same baby from the first photo being held a beautiful woman and her husband right next to her.
Peter's seen the woman before. Not in a dream but she came to the house, claiming she wanted to buy it.
Peter's eyes flickered to the open attic stairs where a woman in a bloody nurse outfit stood. "Look what he did to me," she spoke.
Peter glanced at Tate who nodded to him. Peter shut his eyes and said, "Go away!"
When he opened his eyes, the woman was gone.
Tate leaned over to Peter, pridefully, and kissed Peter's forehead.
***
At Tate's session, Tate sat across from Ben.
"You know, I really like talking to you," Tate spoke. "Dr. Harmon. You've helped me a lot. Maybe it's the drugs. I don't have any more visions. I think it might have just been like a...like a screwy chemical imbalance. And of course, the parenting."
Ben smiled. "Well, I'm glad you feel so much better, Tate. I really am. Our session's over for today." Ben shuts off his tape recorder before continuing, "Look, I, uh...I need to ask you something. Off the clock. And I have no right. But...I'm desperate. I'm worried about Peter. My wife is trying to get through my daughter while Peter, he..."
"I get that," Tate replied. "He's your son. But, you know, he's not a little kid anymore. And at some point...you're gonna have to let him go so he can be himself."
"He won't talk to me anymore. We used to be very close," Ben stated before barely smiling. "He used to say I was his best friend and now he barely looks at me."
"He's been through a lot," Tate stated.
"He talks to you. I know he talks to you." Ben leaned forward in his chair. "What I'm getting at, Tate is if Peter is in trouble, real trouble, please come to me right away. I don't want to lose him too. I can't. I wouldn't survive it."
Tate slowly nodded before stating, "I wish you were my father. My life would have been a lot different."
***
Peter sat on Violet's bed beside her as he had his laptop resting on legs as he watched Ghostbusters.
"I don't understand how you can watch that movie so much," Violet told Peter.
So he could laugh at the things they didn't get right about the ghosts...
"Come on, we used to love this movie," Peter said with a small nudge.
"Yeah, when we were 10," she remarked. "And it just...feels different when watching it."
Peter slowly looked at her. "How's it feel different?"
Violet shrugged. "We're...not little kids."
Peter nodded. "We're not but...it brings back...good...okay memories."
"When our family wasn't fucked up," she agreed, resting her head on Peter's shoulder.
Vivien knocked on the door, barely pushing it open. "Can I come in?" Violet reluctantly nodded. "So it looks like, uh...this guy's pretty serious about buying the house. I mean, we won't know officially until it's actually in escrow, but...I wanted to talk to you guys about it."
"Well, then what?" Violet asked.
She sat across from them on the bed. "Then I think...the three of us will go stay with your Aunt Jo till we find a place."
"What about Dad?"
"Well, Dad still has patients, and...I don't really know. We haven't figured it all out yet. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go, honey. Your dad and I really loved each other."
"How'd you know you loved him when you first met?" Peter spoke up to his mom for the first time.
"Well, he was..." Vivien began. "He was handsome and kind. But I don't know. The thing is when you fall in love, it's kind of like you go crazy, and before you know it, the whole world looks different, and then you'll do anything for the other person." Peter understood now. He'd do anything for Tate, even if it would blind him in a time of need. "Why do you ask, Peter?" Vivien asked him.
Peter forced a smile. "No reason. Just curious." Peter pulled the photos he had from his jacket pocket. "Look at this, Mom."
Vivien looked over the first photo. "Wow. That's the house."
"Yeah. When it was first built."
"Where'd you find all this stuff?" she asked.
"In the attic," Peter answered before watching her move onto another picture. "That's the original owners. Nora and Charles Montgomery," Peter said, pointing to the people in the photo.
***