STANDING AT THE PRECIPICE OF a door better left locked, little more than a fading scab ; once so familiar and now the sight of it stings in places sean doesn’t dare investigate. perhaps he shouldn’t be there at all, instincts a siren wailing songs of pandora’s box, of ghosts that haven’t yet learned to stay dead, prising jealous inadequacies with a cold fist. knocking once, twice. and if nick were on the other side - the physical and the pun almost makes him stutter a laugh - he’d knock back in a tune only they’d learned to complete. but the door opens without a response, leaving little more than an ache in his gut where a joke should be, and all he can offer is “ did you happen to let two vampires into the house ? ” sutter, and otis, and though sean isn’t even sure they’ve found it in themselves to be on speaking terms yet, ms. beaumont had told them they could collect a box of the leftovers that afternoon. some skate gear, a poster, one that sat slumped in the closet, not one of the good ones, one proud enough to hang on the wall. sean felt like he might hang it on his own wall, what little space he had to offer, if he could unroot his feet from where they had planted themselves on the porch. if he could cough up anything but blood and diversions. @brckenbnes