Chapter Text
Ghost is a cemetery.
As a metaphor.
(But also in a nearly literal sense.)
He's barren and quiet, full of things long forgotten and dead. Nothing more than a haunting.
And when Johnny steps into his life, it feels like trespassing over the sanctuary of the dead. Like digging a grave and disturbing it, like knocking on a coffin long buried.
Johnny invades his life the way life invades the rotten undergrowth.
A small thing that grows roots, taking ahold of Ghost's silent heart. He doesn't think much of it, at first. Nothing lives long on barren soil. But Johnny stays and Johnny lives and Johnny thrives, right there by his side throughout the months and years, laughing like he is nurtured and happy and full of sunlight.
By the time Ghost realizes he loves Johnny (and my god, isn't that a terrible thought? A ghost in love is a ghost in grief is a ghost that haunts and haunts and does not find peace) it is too late to cut away the roots. Johnny's grown on him, wrapping in his very bones, and Ghost lets himself be dug open like a grave if it means Johnny will stay a while longer.
When they start dating (fucking finally, Johnny mutters), the first thing Ghost shares with Johnny is the site of his mom's grave. They visit, solemn and hushed, a bouquet of bluebells tucked in the crook of Ghost's arm.
"Bluebells?" Johnny asks when he sets it down.
"Her favorite," Ghost answers. He doesn't like to remember anything from his childhood, the memories painful and fragile like a fresh wound, but he cannot forget the way his mother had smiled over her bluebells.
They're quiet as they stand over the headstone for a while. Then, Ghost steps away, steps back and tugs Johnny with him, and it is over once again.
The first thing Johnny shares with Ghost is his family home.
They drive to Scotland's countryside, a little way away from Glasgow, and when they get there, Ghost can hear the laughter and the Scottish rambling even from outside the driveway.
Johnny's family is huge. He's got two sisters, one older, one younger, both with husbands and children of their own now. His little nieces and nephews run around the yard, shrieking as they chase each other. Johnny's mother looks just like him. They all but pull Ghost into their tight-knit circle, fussing over him as much as they rib over Johnny.
Sometimes, it is hard to remember that not all of them live lives as desolate as Ghost's. Sometimes, that is enough of a relief to realize.
After they eat dinner, Johnny reappears with his mom from their back garden. Ghost pauses his conversation with Johnny's sisters, curious. Johnny has gardening gloves, streaks of dirt on his forearms. His mother has just untied a dirt-stained apron off her body. When Ghost raises a brow in question, Johnny just grins back and gives him a kiss for his trouble.
Months later, in a slow grey afternoon in their shared flat in Glasgow, Johnny walks into their bedroom and stops by the doorway. He waits until Ghost looks up from his book, and smiles over the top of the plant pot he's carrying.
There's a small, healthy bush of vibrant flowers growing in the soil. "Bluebells," Ghost notes, surprised.
"Aye," Johnny says, shrugging. "Got a few bulbs from Mam months ago. Thought we could bring it next time we visit your mother's grave. We could plant it there, come back to check it so it stays alive. You told me it was her favorite."
There is a moment, a breath of a second after passing, where life decides to take over death. Where seeds decide to burrow and take root in the damp, ugly rot, and burst forth from it. Where the heart decides, no - I will keep beating, once more. Once more.
Once more, until it is enough.
Simon is helpless to the burst of pain in his heart, that comes from life taking over him whether he wanted to or not. He is helpless to the way his ribcage squeezes in emotion, to the way his breath shakes out of him. Each day Johnny stays and loves him like this, he reminds Simon that no matter how much he wants to be a ghost, a memory, a haunting, he is still sadly, terribly, wonderfully alive.
The tears come unbidden. Johnny rushes to his side on the bed, setting the pot down hastily to check over him. "Simon, we don't have to-"
"I'm alright," Simon croaks, even as Johnny wipes his tears away. "I'm alright, love. It's wonderful." He murmurs reassurances to Johnny, even as his voice breaks. Fucking god, but living hurts. It hurts, and Simon never wants to forget the feeling of being alive again. "Mum would love it."
"Come 'ere, ye silly lad," Johnny sighs, pulling him into a hug and kisses Simon until his shaking stops.
Come morning, they take the long drive to Manchester, straight to the cemetery. Simon brings a shovel and some gardening tools, Johnny brings the bluebell plant.
There, with their breaths fogging up in the morning chill, Johnny teaches Simon how to dig the earth, down to where the dead and the rot is, and let new life take over.