ok so not really an OC technically, but I’ve been learning how to do linocut prints recently and I wanted to show this one off bc it fits the October vibes :)
He hasn’t seen this apartment in months. Maybe over a year by now. It all felt familiar in a way he hadn’t felt in so long. Jesse stood in front of the door awkwardly as Flynn did the dishes in the middle of the night. He didn’t turn to look at him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. That, he knew. He certainly wasn’t welcome after the last time he was here.
He moved away from the entryway, looking around the place as he went. Still, Flynn didn’t seem to notice. He tried to place whether this was a memory or a dream, but it didn’t quite feel like either. And there was an overwhelming feeling of nothing at all. None of the heat in the room, or the floor beneath his feet, just a vague feeling of coldness.
He was still dressed in the last thing he remembered wearing. He was draped in layers of light jackets hanging loosely over his thin frame, practically swimming in them. He’d never gotten a winter coat. So maybe it was a dream and not a memory. But there was no haziness about it, his vision was unquestionably clear. Flynn looked a little different than he remembered too, his hair slightly longer and in a shirt that didn’t look familiar.
Jesse finally attempted to approach him, walking right in front of him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Except he wasn’t touching anything. His attempts at speech didn’t result in any acknowledgment either, only getting a response in the form of a shiver. And then it clicked.
Oh.
So this was it.
He didn’t remember how it happened, but it was really no surprise. Overdose, he was nearly certain. Why he died wasn’t a mystery, nor was how. It was expected even. Why he was here in particular was the real question.
~~~
Over the next couple weeks he tried everything he could to get Flynn’s attention as he followed him. Waving, touching, and yelling at him for a response, but to no avail. The most he ever got was the sight of goosebumps on his skin. Every so often though, in the middle of the night as Flynn stayed up unable to sleep, he’d finally catch his eye, his gaze meeting his in such away it almost felt like Flynn could actually see him.
So for the time being all he could do was watch. Following about his day as he worked and cooked and cleaned. As he spoke with Julia when she came home from school and the times when Jen came over— his new girlfriend, as he’d found out. The days passed on, and the routine became a blur. Flynn's (minimal) sleep, breakfast, work, and coming back home.
And then the late nights too. Watching as he stressed about everything in his life and about Julia and about Jen. It felt wrong watching him, intruding on such personal moments. But by some cruel trick of fate he couldn’t leave. All he could do was turn around, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear it. He was forced to sit and watch from the corner as Flynn cried. Sometimes he tried to comfort him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, but any attempt at comfort only succeeded in giving him goosebumps.
“I’m sorry… wish I could help,” he mumbled into the nothingness.
Flynn looked up at him meeting his eyes for the first time. Jesse sat up straighter, staring back as he was finally noticed.
“You… You can’t be real,” he said as he looked at him horrified, his voice filled with terror and grief and something that almost sounded like guilt.
“You can see me?” Jesse perked up, desperately hoping this wasn’t some cruel misunderstanding.
Flynn shrank into the couch as Jesse approached, pressing himself against the armrest as Jesse came to sit down on the other side of the couch. Still, the couch only felt like an intense emptiness beneath him.
“What…” he trailed off, any question he might’ve had dying off on his tongue, but instead he reached out towards him with a shaky hand.
Jesse reached back to meet it, but instead Flynn’s just passed right through.
Tears returned to Flynn’s eyes as he stared back at him. “You’re really gone?” he asked, as if it was possible for Jesse to have some other answer, his voice breaking on the last syllable.
Jesse only returned a nod.
“How…?” His voice was still shaking.
“You can’t guess?” Jesse replied despondently. Of course he’d died this way. Why Flynn would think he’d died any different than he’d lived was beyond him.
“I— I should’ve checked up on you.” The guilt was palpable as the tears in his eyes began to fall.
“Please don’t cry,” he gently consoled, wishing he could wipe his tears away. “Flynn… You couldn’t have saved me… It might’ve been nice to hear your voice one last time though.”
