DISCLAIMER: I am not Lord Vasquez.
AUTHORS NOTES: The title of this chapter, and the inspiration for the main plot, was inspired by a line in one of the songs on my MP3 player. Unfortunately, by now I've forgotten what song it was completely and as I've got like, 400+ songs on my MP3 player, I'm fairly certain I'll never find it again.
Enjoy the second chapter of this oh-so-disjointed fanfic.
He never really expected anyone to visit his grave – the only one who knew exactly where his body lay was Squee, and the boy had been specifically told to not flaunt that knowledge. The killer had plenty of surviving victims that would have loved to abuse his body, and vandalize his headstone.
In fact, Squee was the only person he knew that would have liked to visit him at all, and it made the now-dead maniac happy to know that the boy who's childhood he had unintentionally plagued with horror considered him a friend at all. But then, taking into account how many terrifying and highly paranormal things happened in Squee's life without the maniac's involvement, he wasn't surprised.
He had been enjoying the heat of the the mid-day summer sun, sitting down and leaning back on his headstone when the car pulled up. It attracted his attention, as this graveyard wasn't a very well-known one – there were only twenty graves total in this place, many of them from the same family tree, despite being a public burial site.
He didn't recognize this particular vehicle; it wasn't Squee's, and he didn't recognize it from the various people who came here. It was familiar to him, however, though he couldn't place where from.
"I'll just be a minute, Tenna." Johnny's eyes widened. No. No way. She had found him, had found his final 'resting' place and come to him? Why? Fuck, she hated him, why the fuck would she decide to visit him!
The girl in question exited her car – he had been right, no doubt. Devi was visiting his grave. But why?
Silent, Johnny watched as Devi walked up to him, staring up at her. She did the same, staring down at him, silent. "Hey Johnny." She said, after a few more moments of quiet. "How are you doing?" Johnny gaped, trying to answer her, but failing. The woman in front of him chuckled dryly, then spoke again. "That's alright, you don't have to say anything. Took me a while to find you, y'know. I don't think you realize just how hard it is to track down a man like yourself." Finally, Johnny spoke.
"What are you doing here?"
"Fuck..." She muttered, sitting down in front of him. "I don't even know why I came. I only just got wind of your death. And you died... how many years ago? I suppose I came here because I wanted to hope you weren't really dead." Johnny shook his head.
"No, I'm dead as dead can be. Bored, though. But... why-?" Devi cut him off.
"I wanted to tell you that I think I finally understand why you did what you did on our date, way back when." Johnny remained quiet – she understood? "I remember that the recording you played to me over the phone mentioned a dough-boy, you seemed to imply he was some kind of head-voice." Johnny nodded.
"He was – there was Psychodoughboy, and Mr. Fuck. Two of them."
"Well, turns out whatever you had shipped some of itself to me." Johnny's eyes widened – no... No, he had made her a waste-lock? "I beat her, though. She tried to take my brain, but I stabbed her with a paintbrush and took her eyes out of her head. She's pinned to the painting canvas she came out of. I've been doing pretty well since then."
"That's good – I didn't mean to introduce you to my Wall Monster, Devi."
"She isn't dead, though... I don't know how to kill her." Johnny paused, staring at the girl who was now looking off in some other direction.
"I got rid of my Wall Monster by dying... I don't know if there is another way, but I hope you find it." There was an odd silence between the two of them – Johnny knew it should've been awkward, but couldn't help but be elated at Devi's presence at his grave.
"I'll think of something, I guess. I've always been pretty self-sufficient." They were both silent for a few moments more before Johnny spoke up, curious.
"So... how did you find me? I made sure that Squee knew not to tell anyone..." Devi groaned, sounding frustrated, and Johnny wondered vaguely why she was – he only wanted to know how she'd managed to find him.
"God, this is so stupid." He blinked, standing up and staring at her, confused at her reaction to his query - and mildly concerned. "I can't believe I'm even doing this." Johnny narrowed his eyes slightly, worried. What did she mean?
"I- I don't understand." He said to her, noticing that she was not meeting his gaze; her eyes continued to point downwards, at his headstone. Did she still hate him enough to not want to look at him? Or had he said something wrong?
"Alright, I'm done. I've said my thing. I hope you found what you were looking for after you left, Nny." Johnny opened his mouth, wanting to say something to make her stay longer but not knowing what fact or tidbit or opinion he should impart to her. If she still hated him, little to nothing would convince her to stay. And why would she? He was dead. A ghost. Why would anyone want to spend more time than was necessary conversing with the spirit of their attempted murderer?
He took in a breath, about to speak, when Devi cut him off. And what she said stopped him in his tracks, nearly shattering his heart. "I can't believe Tenna convinced me to talk to a rock."
"No..." She... hadn't been talking to him? She hadn't been able to see him, been able to perceive his current plain of existence? "Please, no..." He stood, moving slowly at first, then began to run. If she got off the lot before he could reach her... He couldn't move off of the lot, couldn't move that far away from his grave. She couldn't see him. But, perhaps...
"W-what?" Devi would have no idea what was happening – he had run up to her, and willing with all his might, grabbed onto her jacket. She could not see him. She could not hear him. But he could touch her – and he would not let her go. Not now, now that he finally had her this close to him.
"Please don't go!" He cried out, vainly hoping that the small amount of physical contact he was giving her would somehow allow her to see or hear him. One or the other would be good – both would be perfect. Devi was staring, horrified, at the sight of an invisible hand gripping her jacket – she turned her gaze from her coat, to Johnny's grave, and swallowed – then spoke.
"L-let go." She stammered. Ignoring his predicament and her inability to perceive him, he shook his head, holding onto her coat with a second hand. Devi took in a quick, shuddering gasp, her emerald eyes wide with fear. She had not expected anything like this.
Quickly, Johnny began to think. What could he do? What could he possibly do to convince her to stay, without needing to keep a grip on her coat?
On a whim, he moved a hand from the bottom of her coat to her wrist – Devi let out a quiet cry of fear – and he led her hand to the gravestone, brushing her fingers across his name. Devi's eyes widened. "Johnny...?" Knowing she couldn't see him, he tightened his grip for a moment. The best form of 'yes' he could give her. For a moment, Johnny wished that Squee could come today – he'd mentioned he'd be busy all day today. Having him here would have made talking with Devi so much easier.
Then, her gaze hardened.
"Johnny, let me go."
"I can't. Not yet." He wished desperately that she could hear him.
"I've already said my thing, Johnny. Let. Go." Suddenly, an idea came to Johnny's mind. The dirt! He could draw words in the dirt! He rushed over to some newly turned earth in the graveyard, pulling the still-living girl along with him. He wouldn't have much more energy if he kept contact with her like this. Ghosts only had so much energy that they could use for solidity and communication; if he used too much of it, it would be difficult for even Squee to see or hear him – and Johnny would wind up like so many ghosts before him; without any means of communication.
Reaching down, Johnny dragged a finger through the dirt – he wrote two words.
'Please stay' Devi took in a sharp breath, but otherwise remained silent. Johnny tightened his grip once more.
'Please' He wrote again. Physical contact with living creatures was tough, especially extended like he was doing - he had to stop. Taking in a largely unneeded breath, Johnny released her.
And she stayed.