Chapter Text
Willie felt it happen before he realized what it was.
Just seconds ago he’d been on his board, floating along like a dancer, feeling the flow and singing along to the tune blaring from the beat-up Walkman he couldn’t bring himself to abandon.
Now he found himself on the ground, the air sucked out of his lungs and the music he’d loved just seconds ago shredding his ears. An overwhelming sense of dread overcame him as he pushed himself up off the concrete and an image began to form in his mind.
No.
He stood, paced, shook his head and felt tears come to his eyes, not wanting to believe it. He rubbed his eyes as though to force away the picture he was seeing, now more clearly than ever.
Alex. Reggie. Luke. Julie, the girl he’d never met, but always heard good about. All there together, until they weren’t and Julie was collapsed on the floor, tears rolling down her cheeks like rivers.
No, no, no, he’d helped them. He’d fixed it. This couldn’t be happening.
“Alex,” Willie pleaded, his voice breaking. He felt himself crumple to the ground, hands hitting cold concrete once again. “come on, man. You can’t be gone. Luke, Reg, Alex, please. You’re not gone, you can’t be gone. Please.”
For just one second he thought Alex would materialize in front of him just as he had before, as real as ever and as alive as he could be.
For one wild second, Willie hoped.
……
It was hours before he was aware of anything happening around him again, hours before he felt a lifer pass through him and hours before he could heave a sigh and lean up against the nearest wall with his head in his hands.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Alex was supposed to be off in whatever afterlife he was actually meant to go to, doing whatever he felt like with Luke and Reggie! Not even thinking about any of this! But none of them were, and it was all because of him, him and the stupid Club.
The Club.
This wasn’t Willie’s fault, not by a long shot.
He thought back to the night before and how he’d returned to the Club late at night after the band’s show would surely be over, expecting all of Caleb’s wrath to rain down upon him. But it hadn’t. The show went on, the Club proceeded as usual, and Willie hadn’t been able to decipher any reason his small form of betrayal had slipped through the cracks.
Not that he’d wanted the wrath, of course. But at least it would’ve told him the plan worked, that Alex was safe.
Realization and rage dawned on him simultaneously and before he realized he’d done it, Willie was standing backstage at the Hollywood Ghost Club, staring Caleb Covington in the face.
Caleb raised an eyebrow, perhaps a bit perplexed. “William. What are you doing here?” He gestured to the other person—ghost, lifer, Willie couldn’t tell—sitting across from him. “I’m in a meeting.”
Shaking, Willie opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. When he did manage to get a few words out, they were choked with emotion. “What did you do?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Alex,” he said. “And Luke. Reggie. You know.”
“Willie.” The nickname fell off his tongue smoothly, a charming smile pasted over it, easily hiding the malice Willie knew was there. “I truly don’t know what you think I’ve done, but would you allow me to finish—”
“No.” Willie cut him off, surprised at his own boldness.
Caleb stared for a long moment, waiting and watching for Willie to break. No such luck. Finally he relented with a sigh and turned back to his guest. “Perhaps we can continue this tomorrow?”
The guest nodded and left, looking wildly uncomfortable, and Caleb turned back to Willie. “Scaring our patrons off, William? Not good for business, now is it?”
“Tell me what you did.”
“Simply the stamp doing its job. Everything went to plan, didn’t it?” A threatening undercurrent entered his voice. “Or did something go differently?”
Again Willie opened his mouth to speak, but this time opted to keep it closed. It was a mistake. Caleb’s smile grew bigger and darker. “You didn’t think I didn’t know about your little excursion, did you?”
“I—“
“No, you thought you were untouchable. Didn’t you, William? You thought you were clean and clear. And you were wrong.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Willie burst out. “I know I disobeyed an order. But—“he paused, hesitating, but then pushed forward in a rush—“you had no right. You don’t get to do that to people when they don’t even know it’s happening. It’s not right and it’s not fair. To anybody.”
“I didn’t see you arguing when your fellow dancers were brought in.”
Caleb was right. Willie hadn’t argued, and now he felt a little sick at the thought. “It wasn’t fair then either. I just…I didn’t know it. But you don’t care anyway.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow. “And my…removal, shall we call it? Of Alex and his friends changed your mind?”
Willie began to shake harder than ever at the confirmation, and he plunked unceremoniously into the chair Caleb’s guest had occupied. Caleb watched, the smug look never leaving his face. “It was quick and painless, William. Simply fading away until nothing was left.”
Willie looked up furiously. “You’re a liar.”
A severe look crossed Caleb’s face. “Would you like to find out?”
A searing pain suddenly took over Willie’s arm, and when he looked down to see the stamp that had been there for near ten years glowing bright purple, he almost shrieked out loud.
“No,” he whispered. “No, you can’t do this!”
“Can’t I?”
“I won’t let you,” Willie got out through the pain rippling through his arm. His hands felt paralyzed, his fingers stiff as wood. Was this what they’d felt when it happened? Is this what they’d suffered through while Julie begged them to save themselves? He met Caleb’s eyes once more. “I don’t belong to you. You hurt them enough and I’m not gonna let you hurt me anymore.”
Suddenly the pain eased. At Caleb’s look of horror, Willie looked down at his arm again to find the stamp somehow floating above his wrist, dissipating into a purple mist that faded just as quickly as it had appeared.
When he looked up, the scenery that surrounded him wasn’t the Club, but a bustling street peppered with familiar landmarks - the Getty Art Museum that had the best paths for skating, the hot dog stand he’d steal pickles from on occasion, the Marilyn Monroe impersonator posing with passersby every building with its sign lit up to garner customers through the evening.
Was he…free? He rubbed the spot on his wrist where he should have felt the stamp, but found nothing. Did he dare say it?
He did. “I did it,” he said under his breath. “I’m free!” Then shouting, pure glee lacing every word as he threw his arms up: “Los Angeles, I’m free!”
With a happy sigh he sat down on the nearest bench and looked up at the sky. The stars weren’t particularly visible, but it’d been far too long since he could see any one of them - just one was enough.
He spent a long time on the bench, staring up at the sky and listening to the sounds of the city, re-realizing over and over that he was wonderfully, beautifully free. He would never have to see Caleb Covington’s face again, or have to walk on eggshells in the Club when the lifers were around. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, to tell everyone he knew that his afterlife had changed forever.
Oh.
His good mood came tumbling down yet again as another realization hit him - he had nowhere to go. He didn’t know a soul outside of the club, and the ones he had known…well. Tears formed in his eyes again as the thought forced its way to the front of his brain: Alex was gone, and Willie couldn’t bring him back.
He finally let the tears flow, unable to keep them in any longer and not seeing a reason why he should. When he’d let go of all he could, he sat up and looked around once more, watching every passerby in the hopes of maybe seeing someone he could remember.
But as hard as he tried, he didn’t see anyone, not even an old HGC friend who probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore. And with it being so late by then, it wasn’t likely anyone would let him stay. Even the lifers at the club were less than eager to let a ghost stay with them.
Wait. The lifers.
Julie.
From the first day Willie had met them, the guys had never stopped singing the praises of the girl who found them. Luke, he’d gathered, had practically worshipped her. If she’d been willing to take in three ghosts, what would one more be? He could at least try for the one night, right?
……
It took him a minute to estimate where Julie’s house might be. He only had the stories from Alex, who lived there when he was alive, Reggie, who liked to fill the silence between conversations with anecdotes, and his own iffy memory from “checking on” the group before the Orpheum show. But soon enough he arrived and his hand was hovering in front of Julie’s door and oh god he was having second thoughts. What if the guys had never mentioned him, if she didn’t know who he was? What if she hated him for how he led them to the Club and Caleb? Considering it was about 2 am, what if she just turned him away?
He took a step back and shook his hands around, loosening his fingers and wrists as though he was about to try and stitch them together. “C’mon, Ortega, you got this,” he told himself. Before he could stop himself again, he stepped forward and tapped 3 quick knocks in the center of the door.
Having done it, it didn’t seem so bad.
He didn’t expect anyone to answer, but just a minute later, the door opened to reveal a girl Willie knew had to be Julie. Her curly hair was tied back into a ponytail, and while he hadn’t remembered her wearing glasses, a dark blue pair sat at the bridge of her nose. She looked exhausted, and her eyes were red. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Hi,” Willie managed. He hadn’t exactly rehearsed what to say when (if, really) anyone answered the door, and wow, he was regretting it. He decided to start over. “Hi. Uh, I was a…a friend of—“
“Julie, who’s there?” a voice interrupted from the other side of the door. The person it belonged to, a tall man with kind eyes and somewhat greying hair, appeared in the doorway next to Julie a moment later.
“I don’t know, Dad,” Julie said. She stepped aside a little so the bewildered-looking man could join her. He frowned and peered outside, taking in the entirety of the porch and passing right over Willie in the process. Sigh.
“Honey, there’s nobody out here,” he said. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
Now it was Julie’s turn to frown. “But he’s right there, I…” Suddenly a look of understanding crossed her face. “Actually, never mind, Dad. Sorry to worry you. You can go lay down again.”
The man looked concerned, but did exactly that, and Julie turned back to Willie with both concern and a little hope in her eyes. “You’re a ghost.”
Willie nodded. “I-I was friends with Alex. And Luke and Reggie. I tried to…to help. At the end.”
Julie’s eyes grew wide, and when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “Willie?”
Willie nodded, and he could see Julie holding back tears. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure he could hold back his own, despite all the tears he’d shed that day. Julie stepped onto the porch in front of him and met his eyes carefully. “Thank you. For everything. They were really glad to have you.”
“They were glad to have you too,” Willie said. “And really lucky. I wanted to help more, way more than I got to.”
“You did. More than you know.” An awkward silence passed, and Julie glanced at the still-open front door. “So, uh, what did you come for?” A pause. “There’s no chance they came back, right?”
Willie shook his head. “I wish they had. But, um, I actually came because I…I need a place to stay. For now. Not forever, but maybe tonight?”
Julie hesitated. “Why here?”
“I know the guys stayed because of your music, but they really loved you,” Willie said. “They were always excited to talk about you or tell me about something they wanted to do with you. I guess it feels like it’ll be…safe here?”
Another silence. Julie’s face went through a range of emotions - sadness, confusion, a hint of happiness, and finally determination. “It will be,” she said with a nod. “It is. Follow me.”
Willie followed her down a set of stone steps until they arrived at a garage. The garage where he’d told Alex they were through, and later where he’d told him that there might be a way to be saved. His heart hurt at the thought as Julie swung the doors open and beckoned him in.
The space was still littered with the boys’ belongings. Luke’s orange beanie hung off the arm of a chair, Reggie’s flannel was thrown over the back of the couch, and Alex’s hoodie sat neatly folded on top of the piano, a spot of color against the black paint.
Without thinking about it Willie crossed the room and picked the hoodie up, pressing his fingers into the soft fabric. Julie appeared next to him after a second and leaned on the piano. “He cared about you a lot, Willie. Since the day he met you.”
Willie nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t dare try and speak again. They stood in silence for a few minutes, staring down at the hoodie, before Julie straightened up and turned. “I’ll let you be, I guess. I’m glad we got to meet.”
“You too,” Willie responded absently. He heard her leave and shut the doors quietly, but didn’t look up. Finally he went over to the couch and laid down, the hoodie still folded up in his arms, and closed his eyes.
Just because ghosts didn’t need to sleep didn’t mean he couldn’t still dream.