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juushikaGhost and Aaron: Master List | Next Update
The irony is that I've had this finished for near a month—but I thought I wanted to make this installment a bit longer, and so I held off on posting until I could play again. As it turns out, I needn't've. Sorry for the delay!
We begin as we ended: with Aaron's parents, Lauren and Jonathan Dar, showing up unexpectedly .
Lauren begins the reunion by berating Aaron for disappearing without a word.
Ghost, disheveled and caught unawares, does some emergency cleanup as Lauren pulls Aaron aside.
This must be Lauren's battle, because Jonathan is surprisingly quiet.
But from his spot in the background, he remains observant.
And as Ghost turns his back, Jon has a strange expression—a little smug, hardly kind, somewhat unsettling.
He can smell that something's going on, and damn if having a reason to judge Aaron doesn't amuse Jon.
Meanwhile, ensconced in the backyard, Lauren lets loose with her catalog of disappointments:
"You disappear without warning, you never make contact—I know kids your age have crises, Aaron, but when I go out of my way to track you down and find you living in a filthy little hovel, still not dressed in the middle of the day, you've taken things too far. I would tell you it's your life to ruin...."
"...but no child of mine will throw away his future while I'm alive to prevent it."
But according to Aaron, this is not his fault—it's hers.
"You know shit about me, Mom, and nothing at all about my life. You think this place is disgusting? Great. Then leave. No one asked you to come. And I do have a life, for the record. A life, and fucking job. I work nights which means I sleep days—which is what I should be doing right now, so excuse me while I go get some rest. I'm sure you can find someone else to yell at while I'm gone."
Which is partially true.
While Aaron hides in the dark bedroom and gets a few hours of sleep...
Ghost confronts Lauren. He's halfway calm at first, just asking her to leave...
But when she won't be budged, he loses his temper, asking why exactly they felt it appropriate to come.
Ghost's only lost his temper once that I remember, and that never turned into a personal confrontation.
Who knew he had it in him?
Lauren's reply? "And how, exactly, is this any of your business?"
As the afternoon wears on, Ghost tries his luck with Jonathan instead.
No shouting contests here, but nor does Jon take Ghost the least bit seriously.
While Ghost and Jonathan have their awkward conversation, Lauren sets to work clearing clutter.
Because the house is a mess...
And it sickens her.
This is not how she raised her son to live.
As evening comes, Aaron crawls reluctantly out of bed. He manages to bypass his parents for a bit...
...and retreats to his only other sanctuary. But he's not safe there for long.
When Lauren comes out to resume where they left off, Ghost follows.
So it's all the more painful when Aaron complains about Ghost to his mother.
Why does he do it? To win her favor. Because his anger has turned universal. I doubt even he knows.
But that anger can't last. He turns immediately to Ghost, smiles, and says:
"Come on, don't pout. You know I still love you, man."
There's no way Lauren can miss that there's something significant behind those words.
Evening come in earnest, Jonathan pulls his jacket back on, Lauren cleans up one or two more messes...
....and the boys pull dinner together. "It never occurred to me that they would show up here," Aaron murmurs.
And as they finally leave, Lauren wonders what's become of her family.
These discussions are far from over. Aaron's promised to go see his parents on his next day off.
Not long after Aaron's parents finally leave, Ghost beds down for some restless sleep of his own.
Aaron plays an aggressive game of foosball with Cornelius and talks through some of his worries aloud...
"I almost feel bad about abandoning him, you know?"
"But whatever, right? He's a big boy. I'm sure he handled things just fine."
When Cornelius floats off an hour later, Aaron is left to entertain himself.
He sits down to practice chess, but...
It's not enough to distract him, and he only grows increasingly frustrated through the long night.
When Ghost wakes, Aaron finally finds an outlet for that frustration.
As tolerant as he often is, Ghost doesn't appreciate it.
Aaron's in search of comfort, too—and Ghost wants to provide that, he'd happily provide that...
If only Aaron could keep his anger under control and stop pushing Ghost away.
Pretty soon it's obvious they'd do best just to not talk for a while, and so Ghost plays and the sound calms them.
As soon as Ghost takes a break, Aaron attaches to him, passionate and desperate...
And angry, and rough—and as they teeter on the edge of another argument...
Ghost finally runs out of patience.
"If you're gonna be an ass, Aaron," he says, "do it on your own.
"Sorry. Look. Let's just—let's do our own things for a bit, okay?"
In the hope that later, perhaps everyone will be a bit more calm.
So Aaron plays some more angry foosball, and then naps, and then heads to work.
And Ghost cleans the entire house, top to bottom.
He even moves the ruined television and stoves out curbside, where perhaps they'll be disposed of some day. He leaves the house comparably spotless in his wake, save for the dirty old paint, the cracked floorboards, the weedy garden, and the dozen other things which make Lauren want to torch the place. But the toilets and dishes all, at least, are clean.
Through the rest of the long night, the house is empty and quiet around him.
Aaron, meanwhile, finds his own coping mechanisms.
After work, he wanders the neighborhood rather than going straight home.
For some petty vandalism...
And, with the rising dawn, some somewhat-significant theft.
When he comes home, he almost feels refreshed.
And after Ghost wakes, the boys try again to make things work.
Not that it'll be easy.
So. Something interesting happened when I was playing: I lost half a day of playtime. I played through the night after Aaron's parents left and was thrilled with what developed the next morning—and then (although it had been perfectly stable), my game crashed just before I went to save. I was heartbroken, but eventually went back and replayed that missing half-day. It started out eerily similar and then took its own, unique route.
And, crazy as it is to ever say this: I'm glad the game crashed. What I saw was an alternate view, events that could be but are not, and I believe the fact that they did not materialize is revealing. So, as an odd piece of variation, this time as a storybit I present:
Storybit 10: What does not happen after Aaron's parents leave.
1300 words, +3 pictures.
Would take place near the end end of this update, if it happened.
Contains foul language and explicit descriptions of sex.
* * * * *
These things do not happen:
Ghost presses Aaron against the counter until it cuts into him, hard edges pressing skin to bone. He slides a leg between Aaron's knees, coaxing his body open, grinding their hips together. He leans forward and presses Aaron back, arching him over the counter with the force of a kiss. They're painful things, an inch too close, a stretch too far. Aaron twinges with discomfort and aches with lust, and Ghost feeds both—touch ungentle, fingertips guitar-string rough, body hot as he traps Aaron against the unforgiving formica. They share a single humid breath, caught open-mouthed at the end of a kiss.
Aaron has luck, an innate skill: he fucks with passion rather than precision, he fucks deep and moans deep, and he's good at it—better, certainly, than he knows. But Ghost has practice. He's been practicing ever since Erica dumped him, ever since he first blew a guy behind the school, on his knees in the dirt and weeds, jaw aching with newly-discovered use. He has years of it, accumulated in chance meetings and back-room couplings, gathering like spare change in a pocket, jingling, growing heavy, going unspent. Waiting to be spent. He spends it now, his coins, his learned knowledge, all that practiced skill, and every goddamned thing he does dances over Aaron's nerves like fire: His teeth on Aaron's lower lip. His hands under the counter ledge, slipping into Aaron's shorts, cupping his ass. His thrusts rubbing precome-wet cotton across the head of Aaron's cock. Ghost says, "Let me fuck you," his words flooding past Aaron's lips, and it's hardly a question, it's not an order—it's a predetermined fact.
But these things do not happen.
Perhaps they should. They could. Perhaps: Aaron stays up with a book, curled on the couch through the long night. In the morning when Ghost wakes, after he showers and grabs a bite to eat, before he's bothered to get dressed, Aaron comes to him in the kitchen. He presses himself against Ghost in a kiss almost sudden enough to be a surprise, and Ghost smiles. The light glares, the kitchen air is musty, and they don't notice. Aaron thrums with energy that demands expression—but the only words for it would come out in yells; silence, then, but for the sound of low moans and meeting flesh.
When they pull apart, Aaron looks to Ghost. His eyeliner is worn and smeared, it's always messy, and the darkness of his lids makes his eyes shine bright and blue as water. There are many things which Aaron doesn't know how to say, but this time his eyes speak for him—and, small miracle, he doesn't open his mouth to contradict. Ghost cups the back of Aaron's head, his fingers twining in Aaron's short hair, his touch urging Aaron forward. He pulls their bodies together, pulls Aaron into another kiss, and it's this touch with heats and twists and turns into Aaron arched against the island.
The last time they had sex—yesterday, in that long golden morning which broke with the chime of the doorbell—wasn't so different. It appears different: Ghost rode Aaron's lap then, after they went down on each other, but now it's Aaron that opens himself to Ghost. He's turned to face the island, and bends over it brace himself as Ghost's cock presses into him. They made love yesterday, sunned in the morning light, but now they fuck, Ghost gripping Aaron's hips and Aaron clinging to the countertop. This is faster, rougher. It's not quite brutal, but Ghost toes that line. Untouched, Aaron's erection has begun to flag—but he doesn't seem to notice. He moans like he's at the threshold of orgasm.
What unites is Ghost. He was the one to climb into Aaron's lap yesterday, and he's the one that reaches for Aaron's cock now. He tugs it back to stiffness and then rings his fingers around the base, choking Aaron's moans back to a hitched breath. His other hand tilts Aaron's hips back and opens him wide, holds him steady so that Ghost can sink in deep. Aaron drops his head, his long bangs tickling the countertop, and breathes a low, "Oh, fuck."
The doorbell rings.
They don't know it, but it's Emily from next door—who heard yelling yesterday, while she was tending the garden; who thinks it came from their backyard, and thought she'd stop by to make sure everyone's okay. She considered bringing some sort of baked good, but worried that it would seem condescending.
In the kitchen, Aaron's head snaps up and his eyes go wide; he goes rigid and breaks Ghost's rhythm.
So Ghost lets go of Aaron's cock, reaches up, and knots his fingers in Aaron's curls instead. Then he pulls. He yanks his hand back and slams his hips forward, and Aaron's pulled bow-taut and rammed against the countertop.
"Fucking shit!" swears Aaron, trying to glance back and meet Ghost's eyes, but the movement tugs at the roots of his hair.
"Do you think they can hear?" asks Ghost, and then answers his own question, "I don't. I think you'd have to really scream." He's rediscovered his rhythm and holds too it, and perhaps Aaron would call his thrusts brutal now. Aaron stings and aches, from scalp to ass. He's never gotten used to this feeling, never quite adapted—and Ghost is usually gentle. He's not, now.
The overload of sensation escapes from Aaron in a long, loud moan.
"Not loud enough," says Ghost, his breath raw, his voice calm.
"Fuck you," mutters Aaron, and Ghost does it again, the harsh combination of tug and thrust, pulling Aaron to an arch, pushing himself in deep.
"Oh fuck me," Aaron says this time, and from behind him Ghost chuckles.
"Oh, shut up. You can be such a little bitch, you know that? Act all innocent, white as new-fucking-fallen snow, but Christ only knows what goes on in that head of yours. Do you keep your secrets—oh fuck, Ghost—just so that you can pull shit like this? Fuck you too, man. Fuck you."
"Too much?" asks Ghost, leaning closer.
"Do like I look like some little pansy-ass bitch to you?"
Ghost breathes out a dry laugh and then a single word: "No." And he thrusts harder.
They've been parking their car in the driveway for the last week and it sits there now, usually a sure sign that someone's home. But they must be gone, thinks Emily, standing at the front door, because no one's answered. Emily turns to leave, but in the last moment that she that lingers she thinks she hears something, some sort of sound leaking around the door. She pauses, then keeps on walking. If someone is home, maybe they just don't want company.
In the kitchen, Aaron almost does scream.
But this doesn't happen. Instead Aaron spends the night in the backyard, shivering, sliding chess pieces along the board until the loses his temper and knocks them to the ground. He keeps an eye towards the bedroom windows and as soon as he can see light shine through, he goes back inside. He doesn't give Ghost a chance at breakfast; as soon as Ghost walks into the living room, Aaron is there.
"You look like shit," he says, and Ghost replies, "Yeah, well, I slept like shit," and so words come first. Aaron picks a fight, an argument about Sylvie that leaves Ghost asking, "Do you think she knew any better?"—and it doesn't matter that he collapses into Ghost's arms, clingy and sweet as a child; it doesn't matter that he wants to fuck. Words have tainted everything. Aaron has tainted everything. Not even Ghost can fix that.
Ghost and Aaron: Master List | Next Update
The irony is that I've had this finished for near a month—but I thought I wanted to make this installment a bit longer, and so I held off on posting until I could play again. As it turns out, I needn't've. Sorry for the delay!
We begin as we ended: with Aaron's parents, Lauren and Jonathan Dar, showing up unexpectedly .
Lauren begins the reunion by berating Aaron for disappearing without a word.
Ghost, disheveled and caught unawares, does some emergency cleanup as Lauren pulls Aaron aside.
This must be Lauren's battle, because Jonathan is surprisingly quiet.
But from his spot in the background, he remains observant.
And as Ghost turns his back, Jon has a strange expression—a little smug, hardly kind, somewhat unsettling.
He can smell that something's going on, and damn if having a reason to judge Aaron doesn't amuse Jon.
Meanwhile, ensconced in the backyard, Lauren lets loose with her catalog of disappointments:
"You disappear without warning, you never make contact—I know kids your age have crises, Aaron, but when I go out of my way to track you down and find you living in a filthy little hovel, still not dressed in the middle of the day, you've taken things too far. I would tell you it's your life to ruin...."
"...but no child of mine will throw away his future while I'm alive to prevent it."
But according to Aaron, this is not his fault—it's hers.
"You know shit about me, Mom, and nothing at all about my life. You think this place is disgusting? Great. Then leave. No one asked you to come. And I do have a life, for the record. A life, and fucking job. I work nights which means I sleep days—which is what I should be doing right now, so excuse me while I go get some rest. I'm sure you can find someone else to yell at while I'm gone."
While Aaron hides in the dark bedroom and gets a few hours of sleep...
Ghost confronts Lauren. He's halfway calm at first, just asking her to leave...
But when she won't be budged, he loses his temper, asking why exactly they felt it appropriate to come.
Ghost's only lost his temper once that I remember, and that never turned into a personal confrontation.
Who knew he had it in him?
Lauren's reply? "And how, exactly, is this any of your business?"
As the afternoon wears on, Ghost tries his luck with Jonathan instead.
No shouting contests here, but nor does Jon take Ghost the least bit seriously.
While Ghost and Jonathan have their awkward conversation, Lauren sets to work clearing clutter.
Because the house is a mess...
And it sickens her.
This is not how she raised her son to live.
As evening comes, Aaron crawls reluctantly out of bed. He manages to bypass his parents for a bit...
...and retreats to his only other sanctuary. But he's not safe there for long.
When Lauren comes out to resume where they left off, Ghost follows.
So it's all the more painful when Aaron complains about Ghost to his mother.
Why does he do it? To win her favor. Because his anger has turned universal. I doubt even he knows.
But that anger can't last. He turns immediately to Ghost, smiles, and says:
"Come on, don't pout. You know I still love you, man."
There's no way Lauren can miss that there's something significant behind those words.
Evening come in earnest, Jonathan pulls his jacket back on, Lauren cleans up one or two more messes...
....and the boys pull dinner together. "It never occurred to me that they would show up here," Aaron murmurs.
And as they finally leave, Lauren wonders what's become of her family.
These discussions are far from over. Aaron's promised to go see his parents on his next day off.
Not long after Aaron's parents finally leave, Ghost beds down for some restless sleep of his own.
Aaron plays an aggressive game of foosball with Cornelius and talks through some of his worries aloud...
"I almost feel bad about abandoning him, you know?"
"But whatever, right? He's a big boy. I'm sure he handled things just fine."
When Cornelius floats off an hour later, Aaron is left to entertain himself.
He sits down to practice chess, but...
It's not enough to distract him, and he only grows increasingly frustrated through the long night.
When Ghost wakes, Aaron finally finds an outlet for that frustration.
As tolerant as he often is, Ghost doesn't appreciate it.
Aaron's in search of comfort, too—and Ghost wants to provide that, he'd happily provide that...
If only Aaron could keep his anger under control and stop pushing Ghost away.
Pretty soon it's obvious they'd do best just to not talk for a while, and so Ghost plays and the sound calms them.
As soon as Ghost takes a break, Aaron attaches to him, passionate and desperate...
And angry, and rough—and as they teeter on the edge of another argument...
Ghost finally runs out of patience.
"If you're gonna be an ass, Aaron," he says, "do it on your own.
"Sorry. Look. Let's just—let's do our own things for a bit, okay?"
In the hope that later, perhaps everyone will be a bit more calm.
So Aaron plays some more angry foosball, and then naps, and then heads to work.
And Ghost cleans the entire house, top to bottom.
He even moves the ruined television and stoves out curbside, where perhaps they'll be disposed of some day. He leaves the house comparably spotless in his wake, save for the dirty old paint, the cracked floorboards, the weedy garden, and the dozen other things which make Lauren want to torch the place. But the toilets and dishes all, at least, are clean.
Through the rest of the long night, the house is empty and quiet around him.
Aaron, meanwhile, finds his own coping mechanisms.
After work, he wanders the neighborhood rather than going straight home.
For some petty vandalism...
And, with the rising dawn, some somewhat-significant theft.
When he comes home, he almost feels refreshed.
And after Ghost wakes, the boys try again to make things work.
Not that it'll be easy.
So. Something interesting happened when I was playing: I lost half a day of playtime. I played through the night after Aaron's parents left and was thrilled with what developed the next morning—and then (although it had been perfectly stable), my game crashed just before I went to save. I was heartbroken, but eventually went back and replayed that missing half-day. It started out eerily similar and then took its own, unique route.
And, crazy as it is to ever say this: I'm glad the game crashed. What I saw was an alternate view, events that could be but are not, and I believe the fact that they did not materialize is revealing. So, as an odd piece of variation, this time as a storybit I present:
Storybit 10: What does not happen after Aaron's parents leave.
1300 words, +3 pictures.
Would take place near the end end of this update, if it happened.
Contains foul language and explicit descriptions of sex.
These things do not happen:
Ghost presses Aaron against the counter until it cuts into him, hard edges pressing skin to bone. He slides a leg between Aaron's knees, coaxing his body open, grinding their hips together. He leans forward and presses Aaron back, arching him over the counter with the force of a kiss. They're painful things, an inch too close, a stretch too far. Aaron twinges with discomfort and aches with lust, and Ghost feeds both—touch ungentle, fingertips guitar-string rough, body hot as he traps Aaron against the unforgiving formica. They share a single humid breath, caught open-mouthed at the end of a kiss.
Aaron has luck, an innate skill: he fucks with passion rather than precision, he fucks deep and moans deep, and he's good at it—better, certainly, than he knows. But Ghost has practice. He's been practicing ever since Erica dumped him, ever since he first blew a guy behind the school, on his knees in the dirt and weeds, jaw aching with newly-discovered use. He has years of it, accumulated in chance meetings and back-room couplings, gathering like spare change in a pocket, jingling, growing heavy, going unspent. Waiting to be spent. He spends it now, his coins, his learned knowledge, all that practiced skill, and every goddamned thing he does dances over Aaron's nerves like fire: His teeth on Aaron's lower lip. His hands under the counter ledge, slipping into Aaron's shorts, cupping his ass. His thrusts rubbing precome-wet cotton across the head of Aaron's cock. Ghost says, "Let me fuck you," his words flooding past Aaron's lips, and it's hardly a question, it's not an order—it's a predetermined fact.
But these things do not happen.
Perhaps they should. They could. Perhaps: Aaron stays up with a book, curled on the couch through the long night. In the morning when Ghost wakes, after he showers and grabs a bite to eat, before he's bothered to get dressed, Aaron comes to him in the kitchen. He presses himself against Ghost in a kiss almost sudden enough to be a surprise, and Ghost smiles. The light glares, the kitchen air is musty, and they don't notice. Aaron thrums with energy that demands expression—but the only words for it would come out in yells; silence, then, but for the sound of low moans and meeting flesh.
When they pull apart, Aaron looks to Ghost. His eyeliner is worn and smeared, it's always messy, and the darkness of his lids makes his eyes shine bright and blue as water. There are many things which Aaron doesn't know how to say, but this time his eyes speak for him—and, small miracle, he doesn't open his mouth to contradict. Ghost cups the back of Aaron's head, his fingers twining in Aaron's short hair, his touch urging Aaron forward. He pulls their bodies together, pulls Aaron into another kiss, and it's this touch with heats and twists and turns into Aaron arched against the island.
The last time they had sex—yesterday, in that long golden morning which broke with the chime of the doorbell—wasn't so different. It appears different: Ghost rode Aaron's lap then, after they went down on each other, but now it's Aaron that opens himself to Ghost. He's turned to face the island, and bends over it brace himself as Ghost's cock presses into him. They made love yesterday, sunned in the morning light, but now they fuck, Ghost gripping Aaron's hips and Aaron clinging to the countertop. This is faster, rougher. It's not quite brutal, but Ghost toes that line. Untouched, Aaron's erection has begun to flag—but he doesn't seem to notice. He moans like he's at the threshold of orgasm.
What unites is Ghost. He was the one to climb into Aaron's lap yesterday, and he's the one that reaches for Aaron's cock now. He tugs it back to stiffness and then rings his fingers around the base, choking Aaron's moans back to a hitched breath. His other hand tilts Aaron's hips back and opens him wide, holds him steady so that Ghost can sink in deep. Aaron drops his head, his long bangs tickling the countertop, and breathes a low, "Oh, fuck."
The doorbell rings.
They don't know it, but it's Emily from next door—who heard yelling yesterday, while she was tending the garden; who thinks it came from their backyard, and thought she'd stop by to make sure everyone's okay. She considered bringing some sort of baked good, but worried that it would seem condescending.
In the kitchen, Aaron's head snaps up and his eyes go wide; he goes rigid and breaks Ghost's rhythm.
So Ghost lets go of Aaron's cock, reaches up, and knots his fingers in Aaron's curls instead. Then he pulls. He yanks his hand back and slams his hips forward, and Aaron's pulled bow-taut and rammed against the countertop.
"Fucking shit!" swears Aaron, trying to glance back and meet Ghost's eyes, but the movement tugs at the roots of his hair.
"Do you think they can hear?" asks Ghost, and then answers his own question, "I don't. I think you'd have to really scream." He's rediscovered his rhythm and holds too it, and perhaps Aaron would call his thrusts brutal now. Aaron stings and aches, from scalp to ass. He's never gotten used to this feeling, never quite adapted—and Ghost is usually gentle. He's not, now.
The overload of sensation escapes from Aaron in a long, loud moan.
"Not loud enough," says Ghost, his breath raw, his voice calm.
"Fuck you," mutters Aaron, and Ghost does it again, the harsh combination of tug and thrust, pulling Aaron to an arch, pushing himself in deep.
"Oh fuck me," Aaron says this time, and from behind him Ghost chuckles.
"Oh, shut up. You can be such a little bitch, you know that? Act all innocent, white as new-fucking-fallen snow, but Christ only knows what goes on in that head of yours. Do you keep your secrets—oh fuck, Ghost—just so that you can pull shit like this? Fuck you too, man. Fuck you."
"Too much?" asks Ghost, leaning closer.
"Do like I look like some little pansy-ass bitch to you?"
Ghost breathes out a dry laugh and then a single word: "No." And he thrusts harder.
They've been parking their car in the driveway for the last week and it sits there now, usually a sure sign that someone's home. But they must be gone, thinks Emily, standing at the front door, because no one's answered. Emily turns to leave, but in the last moment that she that lingers she thinks she hears something, some sort of sound leaking around the door. She pauses, then keeps on walking. If someone is home, maybe they just don't want company.
In the kitchen, Aaron almost does scream.
But this doesn't happen. Instead Aaron spends the night in the backyard, shivering, sliding chess pieces along the board until the loses his temper and knocks them to the ground. He keeps an eye towards the bedroom windows and as soon as he can see light shine through, he goes back inside. He doesn't give Ghost a chance at breakfast; as soon as Ghost walks into the living room, Aaron is there.
"You look like shit," he says, and Ghost replies, "Yeah, well, I slept like shit," and so words come first. Aaron picks a fight, an argument about Sylvie that leaves Ghost asking, "Do you think she knew any better?"—and it doesn't matter that he collapses into Ghost's arms, clingy and sweet as a child; it doesn't matter that he wants to fuck. Words have tainted everything. Aaron has tainted everything. Not even Ghost can fix that.
Ghost and Aaron: Master List | Next Update
