TW: Mentions of school shootings, story about a school shooting and dying in on (not graphic), mentions of asphyxiation, crying but not a whole lot, vague hints towards depressive thoughts and behavior, and mentions of death. It's not super angsty though, I promise.

Ghosts au

{Third Person POV}

When Patton first woke up after what felt like a millennia of sleep, he noticed a few things. The first one was that he felt as if he had something stuck in his throat, such as a lozenge or the need to cough very loudly. The second was that there were alot of people standing around him when his eyes opened. He didn't count them when he first seen them, but thinking back there were seven, all looming over him with faces of interest, as if he were an exhibit at a museum. The third was that one of the men was very, very handsome. Maybe that one wasn't as important than the others, but it was certainly flying around his head.

For a moment Patton had simply laid on the grass and stared up at the other bespectacled man, blue eyes wide as saucers as he mentally berated himself for something charming to say. Or at least funny. He was thinking so hard he couldn't even hear himself breath.

And after that realization he had another. He wasn't breathing.

Maybe it was the shock of his death, maybe it was the fact that it was a silly death, (He actually did have a lozenge stuck in his throat, he had choked on it.) but Patton never really felt upset about it. Patton kind of joked about it now, even if to a living person it would be concerning to do so, but after you're dead you realize life is just funny like that. But when it completely registered to Patton that he was dead, no longer seen nor heard by any of his loved ones, he kind of... relaxed.

Of course not completely, because he was still physically gone from Earth, but he took the knowledge with the understanding that, despite how he knew they would be upset, he also knew his loved ones would be would be okay. They'd remember him, they would celebrate his birthday and come by on his deathday. They wouldn't suffer financially, or at least they shouldn't have, because Patton was prepared for anything bad to happen, which of course included his own funeral.

The worst thing was them grasping with the fact Patton no longer was there. And despite Patton not knowing so, he had impacted everyone's life so much to the point that there were five times the amount of flowers than what was originally delivered to his service. Patton was really close to his nearby florist, anyways. He wishes he got to see the funeral. To see his friends and family once more before he moved on.

Although that was the issue, wasn't it? He was a ghost. He hadn't moved on. He had some unfinished business, even if he didn't know what it was, something within him did. Something deep down in him knew why he could so easily get upset, why, when he was alive, he sometimes felt like he was suffocating.

Asphyxiation was a funny thing, because one could easily be saved. If you reached out, or if someone noticed you, asked and talked and simply just tried to get help in some kind of way, you could be saved from an unfortunate death. It could be completely avoided. But Patton was never good at asking for help. He was never talked about himself, or about those funny little thoughts he got that were in no way funny and actually quite depressing. He dealt with it and moved on. He suffocated and died. And not just from that lozenge either.

~

It wasn't exactly convenient for a ghost to sleep. They didn't need to, their physical bodies were already six feet under and useless, but it was nice to have something familiar in their routine. It was nice and they could sleep, if they focused extremely hard. There wasn't really anything else for them to do though. They can't eat or drink, pick things up, and can't even leave and go somewhere else. It was a very monotonous afterlife for everyone involved.

And despite the fact that every ghost knew they didn't actually need sleep anymore, there was one ghost upset over the fact he couldn't.

"I just don't understand." Logan said, watching from the second story window of the house with a look of dismay on his ghostly face. "It's a Friday night, they should be doing something relaxing. Yet here they are, drinking alcohol and playing cacophonous music. How daunting."

"Well they're young. Probably still like the taste of the stuff." Patton said from beside the other, watching in mild interest as the group of twenty-somethings happily danced with the music. It really wasn't that loud, Logan was just melodramatic. Not that he'd admit it.

"Besides, didn't you say you like wine?" Patton asked, looking over at Logan with a knowing look on his face. When you spend years with someone you don't really have a choice to talk to, you learn quite a few things about them. Such as their nearly decade long job that made them crave a bottle of wine the second they got home. Logan visibly froze for a moment before rolling his eyes. "That's much different. I didn't drink it in large quantities in a single night."

"Suppose it doesn't really matter now." Patton said with a careless shrug, turning his attention back to the party outside. It did look like alot of fun, the big group of people dancing and laughing with drinks in their hands and fun, colorful, lights washing over them. There was another group downstairs on the first floor too, and if Patton were a physical being he would have felt the vibrations from the speakers through the old floorboards.

"Yes, well I would like to get some sleep tonight. Come Patton, let's share our woes with Thomas." Logan grabbed Patton's hand -one of the only things a ghost could touch was another ghost, after all- and led him down the hall and towards the stairs.

When Logan did things like this, take Patton's hand in his own or put his hand simply anywhere on Patton, he felt like he was alive again. His ghost body got a wave of warmth and it was almost as if he could feel his heart beating once again. Staccato articulates against his chest and running throughout his body, a thrump against his carotids. He could just barely feel his brain short-circuit when it happened, and it was a lovely feeling.

By the time the two were downstairs and had found Thomas, who was happily chatting with a group of friends while a cup was held in his hand, Logan had let go of Patton's hand. Instead, he went to tap Thomas on the shoulder before realizing he couldn't do so. Sometimes even Logan forgot about their situation.

"Thomas."

Thomas looked over briefly, acknowledging Logan's presence. He knew well enough not to say anything when around other living people and a ghost, that was how you got weird looks. So instead he just glanced over at Logan, still listening to his friend.

"You need to end this, it's far too loud and I would like to sleep tonight." He said, and Thomas gave him a weird look before interrupting his friend, apologizing and saying he had to go call somebody. Said friends accepted the excuse as Thomas quickly began walking in the opposite direction, Patton and Logan following closely behind.

He led the two ghosts out of the room and into his bedroom, where it was just slightly more quiet than the rest of the house and completely free of any people, an exasperated expression on his face. Honestly, it was one thing or another with these ghosts. When he shut the door he immediately turned to Logan, arms crossed over his chest and drink teetering on falling out of his hand. He looked similar to a parent tired of their child's annoying antics.

"Why do I need to end this?" He asked, and Logan straightened his posture, ready to launch into one of his long tirades.

"Because I would like to sleep, and I cannot concentrate to when you're playing such noisy music." Patton decided to sit down as he watched Thomas sigh and set his cup down. "Logan, you don't need to sleep. You can stay awake for literal years. And this is my house, you just died in it."

Logan blinked at Thomas before frowning, "Well I like to stick to a schedule, and you're off of it. Besides, you will be suffering the effects of all this alcohol tomorrow morning. Then the house will stay in this condition and no one will bother to clean it, and I will not live with a mess." Logan seemed to have realized his choice of words, and Patton watched as he backtracked.

"I mean- I will not exist with a mess." He corrected, embarrassment evident on his face.

"Can't you go off schedule for one night? And I promise I'll clean up in the morning, I haven't even finished my first drink." He picked it up and swished it around, showing it to Logan. He looked at it, doubtful at what Thomas had said. "Nic is the one who won't clean, so you can get mad at him. Not like he'll hear you though."

Logan still just stared at Thomas as if he had three heads, bewildered. The idea of going off of a schedule was foreign to the man, and Patton watched as the gears in his head turned, looking for a convincing argument to make Thomas stop the party.

Although Thomas beat him to it, "Why don't you two join? The others are dancing." It was true, all the other ghosts were happily mingling with the guests, even if they couldn't hear them, they were all having fun and the idea actually sounded quite nice to Patton. It would be refreshing to see some new faces anyways. He'd like to dance with Logan too, even if he seemed like somebody who could only do a waltz.

Although Logan somehow looked even more surprised, and shook his head. "I'd rather just not sleep."

Oh. Well there goes that idea. It was fun while it lasted though.

"Patt?" Thomas looked over at Patton, who shrugged, "I dunno. I'll probably just..." He thought for a moment. There really wasn't anything to do. "Sit in my room."

Thomas shrugged, "Alright. I'm going back downstairs, and I don't want to hear any complaining." Logan just stared as Thomas walked put of the room to go back to his friends. Then he frowned. "Well that didn't work."

"Nope." Patton said, standing up and smoothing down his clothes. He made his way to the doorway, ready to walk out of the room. "But I guess I'll try to sleep."

Logan stood still as he watched Patton walk out the door and through the hallway. There was no sign of him walking, no creak of the wood, severely reminding Patton of his situation. Then Logan had an idea.

"Patton?"

Patton turned, curiosity written on his face. "Yeah...?"

"Would you like to come to my room?"

~

Logan's room wasn't so much a room as it was a place where Thomas and the tenants before him stored nearly all the books, both new and old. And even older books. They lined the walls in huge, oak brown shelves and were stacked half-hazardly on two bedside tables on both sides of the queen-sized bed. Which had been perfectly made ever since Thomas had cleaned the old, brown comforter. And even before he moved in it looked exactly the same.

Three Tiffany lamps lit the room in a warm, soft glow that made Patton think of when he was alive and would spend his college days at the library, studying under the dim lighting.

Patton had only really been in Logan's room a handful of times, mainly just to ask him something or have him go in another room, and couldn't help but stare at the decor as him and Logan sat on the bed. Granted, there was a desk with a few chairs, but they were pushed in and the two couldn't sit on them. So instead they sat side by side, knees nearly touching as they did so.

The two were silent, the muffled music and chatter of the party the only actual noise between the two. Patton cleared his throat and Logan straightened his posture.

"Why'd you invite me?" Patton asked,  his tone soft, not wanting to be too loud in the otherwise quiet room. It really did remind Patton of a library. Logan bit the inside of his lip as he thought, a nervous habit that really should have died off with him. To be perfectly honest he really didn't know why he invited Patton to his room. He just felt like he should, so he did so.

Despite the fact that Logan was a very logical man, alot of what he did, whether planned or not, really didn't make alot of sense. He did things because they felt right, felt as if it should happen, even if it wasn't supposed to. That was why he liked to sleep, why he liked to read. Why he invited Patton to his bedroom.

"I just wanted to..." He tried to think of the right word, "Converse."

Patton cocked his head to the side, "I thought that was a shoe brand?"

"What."

"Yeah, Nico wears them. Converse, I think is how it's said. They have stars on them." Patton used his index finger to make the vague shape of a star in the air in front of himself and Logan simply stared at him for a moment.

"No, Patton. I meant just talking."

Patton flushed in embarrassment, warmth all over his face yet not shown. You needed blood to blush, after all. "Oh..."

Logan smiled, an endearing and caring one he would have used towards a particularly sad child. He patted Patton on the shoulder, "It's alright. But I would like to talk with you. What would you like to talk about?"

"Oh! Uh, I dunno. Whaddya you wanna talk about?"

"I asked you first." Logan said and Patton shrugged, Logan's hand still on his shirt as he did so. "I really don't know, Lo. There's not really much to talk about."

"Well... what have you done today?" Logan asked, and Patton really didn't have anything to say. He didn't do anything that day. He walked around the house, then walked around outside, looked at the sky, slept, walked back, and then the party started.

"Nothin'. You?"

Logan hesitated, he just read all day. But he was sure Patton didn't want to hear about his book.

"I just... read. Nothing major." Patton looked doubtful, "What'd you read?"

"Oh, you don't want me to talk about it-"

"Of course I do."

"No I tend to rant, I'll bother yo-"

"I like listening to you talk."

Logan paused. Then blinked. Then he blinked again. Finally, he spoke. "You do?"

Patton smiled, one that, when he was alive, was sporadic and only really occurred around certain people. The one he had always shown was not the happiest smile, never quite reaching his eyes. Yet around Logan that real smile always shined through, dimples around his curving pink lips and eyes crinkling. Logan matched it and his hand traveled down Patton's arm, his warm touch lingering even when placed on the comforter. Patton longed for his hand to be back on him.

"Yes, alright. Well I believe I told you about it. It's called This Is Where It Ends, it's a very nice book." Patton shook his head, "No, I don't think so."

"Oh. Well, it's a very interesting book."

"Tell me about it."

So Logan did. He told Patton all about the characters, the plot, and even the author. About how he had bothered Thomas until he looked up the author on his laptop, and Logan had obsessively read all about her until Thomas took his laptop back. But the plot was what really interested Patton.

It was about a school shooting, which was something Patton didn't remember happening much in his life. It was set in a high school and followed four students during the fifty-four minute tragedy, and Logan told Patton all about how harrowing it was, reading all of their inner thoughts as something so deadly went on.

"I'm not sure why I like it so much, I don't usually read survival books, I prefer just about anything else to be perfectly honest." He chuckled and Patton smiled at the noise. "But I..." He sighed, "I think I like it because it reminds me of how I died. Although I like to think that they will all be okay."

Patton, despite having not been moving, froze. Logan never brought up his death, and when one looked at him you couldn't really tell how he died. Unlike Roman and Remus, he didn't have any weapons protruding out of him. And he wasn't half-burned like Janus. Nor have bruises on his neck like Emile or Virgil, and didn't talk about it like Patton and Remy. Logan was secretive about it, and Patton was more than surprised when he heard Logan say that.

"You... Do you wanna talk about that?" Patton asked, tone careful as he spoke. He didn't want to make Logan feel like he had to share, but he also wanted to hear what he had to say.

Logan thought for a moment, gaze towards the wall. But he turned to Patton and nodded slowly, "Yes, I think I do."

Patton nodded, "Alright. Yeah, okay. Um, do you want to-" He gestured towards the headboard, "Get comfortable?" He cringed at his tone but Logan simply chuckled, "Yes, I suppose so." He scooted and sat where he usually slept, back against the wooden headboard and posture perfectly straight as per usual. He patted the spot to his left.

"Would you like to as well?"

Patton couldn't find his voice, although he managed a nod and made his way over, sitting directly next to Logan, legs out in front of him on the bed and next to Logan's. Their thighs were touching, and Patton tried not to think about it too much. Especially during such a serious conversation.

"So, should I start?" Patton nodded once again, and Logan sighed, thinking. "Right. Well, it was the summer of nineteen seventy-three and I was a teacher. I had taught fifth grade science for ten years, having started when I was twenty-five. Although you already knew that." Patton nodded, "And I was also in charge of any summer school students. Summer school was, of course, held at the school any other time, although there was a fire on part of the building. So, we had to hold class somewhere else, and the current owners of the manor let us rent it until construction was finished. They would be out all day and let us teach."

Logan chuckled, "I remember there was one student, if I remember correctly his name was Kenneth, who was amazed by the garden. Said it was the prettiest thing he had ever seen." Logan had a watery smile on his face as he spoke, and he cleared his throat.

"Although the people who owned the house were wealthy, and known for it too. One Wednesday there was a commotion on the front porch and the door was pushed open. My students and I were upstairs, but I had a feeling something was wrong, so I kept my assistant in charge while I went downstairs." Logan paused, trying to think of what happened on that sad day. It was getting harder and harder to remember.

"I went downstairs and there was a robber, who thought I was the owner of the house." Patton watched as Logan's eyes began to water, and his voice faltered. He wasn't sure if Logan knew it was happening, but he reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

That seemed to help Logan, and he continued.

"He seen me and demanded I tell him where the money was. I told him I wasn't the owner, and he didn't believe me. Then I seen the gun." Logan pushed his glasses up. "He asked again. I repeated what I said, although I was slowly going back upstairs to warn my assistant. He noticed and quickly ran after me."

Patton watched Logan closely as he spoke, watching as Logan's lips spoke these awful words, shaping this tragic story that, unlike Logan's beloved books, was completely real and happened. Not only happened, but happened to Logan. It hurt Patton, and it especially hurt knowing the outcome.

"He managed to corner me just as I got to the door, and wrestled me onto the floor. My assistant must have heard the commotion, because she opened the door just as he aimed for my forehead." A tear slowly streamed down Logan's face, and he quickly wiped at it with his free hand. "I think the saddest thing is that, just before everything went black, I seen one of my students peek her head around the door."

Patton leaned against Logan, "What was her name? Do you remember?"

Logan leaned against Patton as well. He thought hard for a moment before smiling.

"Pamela. She told me she wanted to be a marine biologist, how she wanted to study whales. She even said if she discovered a new species she'd name it after me. It was silly, but a nice thing nonetheless." He laughed, a sad, weak one that had just the ghost of a smile with it. "She was extremely smart. They all were."

Patton didn't know what to say, so he squeezed Logan's hand once again. The warmth of their hands together made Logan relax against Patton even more, practically melting into his minimal touch. He felt safe.

"Do you remember anything about the other kids?" Logan shrugged, "Just a bit. I think the time and my wound has damaged my memory, but I remember a few things. Snippets of my life."

"Like what?"

"Well, there was a boy who wanted to be a lawyer like his father. He would constantly start arguments with other students, who usually gave up after five minutes. That was until another boy moved into town and also wanted to be one." Logan laughed as he recalled the faded memory, "Their arguments would last the entirety of recess and sometimes during my class. It was always over silly things too, but they had very good points." Patton laughed, wide grin on his face.

"That's cute. Tell me more?"

So Logan did. And with each fun, silly story about a student the air of the room lightened. Slowly, gradually, the two grew happier after the story, and Logan felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Not only had it taken him a long time to remember everything, it had been hard accepting it. Suddenly being alive and thriving in your life to not even being heard was something that took time to understand. Something sensitive that wasn't easy to share with others.

But he trusted Patton. Trusted him with all of his soul, and that's all he really was anyways. Patton was such a sweet person anyways, and he loved that about him. He felt like he could tell him anything and Patton would happily listened, and it was the same the other way around.

Logan was the first person Patton seen when he "woke up", and was the first to break the news to him too. He listened when Patton got upset, when those not-so-fun thoughts crept their way to the surface and overwhelmed Patton. But everything was alright when Logan was there, he was Patton's favorite person.

~

"I wish we were alive at the same time."

This sentence surprised Logan the next day, when the two were sitting outside in the Spring sun, watching the sky. It was a beautiful day, a soft breeze carrying dandelion fluff around the two and the occasional butterfly fluttering as well. Absolutely lovely, if you asked either of them.

"What do you mean? We were." Patton shrugged, looking down at the grass, watching a ladybug idly climb onto a leaf.

"Yeah, but like, I was in Wisconsin. You were here. I just wish we knew each other, y'know? Did what we do now." Patton adored the idea. He yearned for a life where he knew more about Logan. Knew all there was to know, because Logan really couldn't remember much about his life. But a life where the two regularly went to other places, rather than being stuck in a huge mansion that didn't give them the best memories. Where they could maybe have meals together, whether at restaurants or even at each other's houses. Patton would gladly cook for Logan if given the chance.

"Well in the end we both got here. We know each other now, and I like to think that's enough." Patton nodded, looking up from the ladybug. "Yeah, I guess that's true." He shrugged once again, "I'm here in the afterlife with my favorite person." He bumped his shoulder against Logan's. "That's all the matters, right?"

Logan was silent, and for a fleeting moment Patton was scared he had crossed some kind of line. He hadn't meant to if he did, and was perfectly prepared to take it back.

But instead he cracked a smile. A beautiful, happy one that made Logan look young and alive once again. It made Patton feel fuzzy and as if he were a teen with a silly little crush once again. He loved it.

"I'm your favorite person?" He asked, smile still on his face and seeping into his tone.

"'Course you are, Lo. I lo-" He paused, thought for a moment, and rephrased. He had to play it safe, he couldn't just outright say it. "I love everything about you."

Logan thought about the words, searching Patton's tone. His smile somehow widened. "I... I love everything about you too."

Patton offered his hand, an invitation he wanted Logan to take so very badly.

Logan took it, interlacing their fingers.

"Can we... Can I..?" Logan couldn't seem to put together any coherent words from all the letters swimming around in his head, and Patton patiently waited for him to.

"Would we be able to," He felt hot right up to his ears, "Kiss?"

Patton stared for a moment, silent.

Logan, mistaking his silence, slowly began to panic. "Oh... Oh dear, did I interpret that wrong? I'm so-"

Patton didn't say a thing, instead bringing Logan's hand up to his lips and pressing a soft, light kiss to the back of it. Logan's sentence trailed off and his face was still hotter than the sun, his head filled with befuddled thoughts that all included Patton doing that over and over again.

"I-" He sighed, a shuddery thing that, realistically, he shouldn't be able to even do in the first place. "Do that again?" He asked, eyes down and towards the grass.

Patton happily did so, and Logan made a noncommittal noise somewhere between a squeak and a groan. Honestly, since when did he behave like this? He was thirty-five, and had been so for over a decade, something so simple as someone kissing his hand shouldn't make him react like this. And yet Patton looked at him with such fondness in his eyes it felt electrifying, although in the best way possible. So maybe it wasn't so bad.

"So... do you wanna try and kiss or..." Patton held up their hands and Logan shrugged. "You can do whatever you like."

"You have to look up to kiss me, silly."

Logan whipped his head up, and Patton smiled warmly at him, other hand reaching up and softly, slowly, trailing up the side of Logan's face and cupping his cheek. Logan reached out and did the same, although much quicker.

Patton glanced down before leaning in, meeting Logan in the middle. And maybe it was because he hadn't kissed someone in more than a decade, or maybe it was simply just because it was Logan, but it was amazing. His entire body was warm and relaxed, his entire upper body leaning in and towards Logan, their clothed chests touching. He could practically feel his heart throbbing against his chest once again, the beat echoing in his ears up until they pulled away.

Logan was staring at Patton with stars in his eyes, which were as wide as saucers. His mouth was slack and inviting once again, and if he had blood in his system he would have been bright red. It was an amazing sight, if you asked Patton. Patton himself knew he must have looked the same, pupils dilated behind his glasses and lips pressed together, the slight and faded taste of Logan's lips still lingering. The thing about kissing a ghost was that you really couldn't taste the other person, but that didn't matter to either of them. Just being close like this was perfect for them.

"I'm glad we met." He said after finally finding his voice, and Patton smiled, squeezing his hand.

"Me too. Even if it did take awhile."

5100 words

Lol all I do is take another ship from something I like and force Sanders Sides characters to cosplay as them.

Also, if you're wondering why nobody can see Lo's wound (which I doubt you are) it's because his hair is angled in a way that the bullet hole isn't seen on his forehead. And the back of his head has his hair matted down with blood to the point where you couldn't see unless you were actively looking and were directly behind him.

Let me know if you want to hear about how the others died, because this was originally gonna be much longer and include all of the character's stories and deaths. I scrapped the idea because it ended up being nine thousand words of me just ranting, lol. Also we're ignoring the fact that they can't breath but regularly sigh at their problems.

Anyways,

Bi~❤💛💚💙💜