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myhauntedsalem · 9 months

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The Boogeyman of Baltimore 1951

The summer of 1951 was a weird time in the city of Baltimore. The city sweltered under a heat wave and only the wealthiest residents of the region could afford air conditioners at the time. And there were no air conditioners to be found in O’Donnell Heights, a housing project on the southwest side of the city. This was a place where steel mill and shipyard workers lived with their families. For those folks, though, the steamy heat was less of a worry than the specter that was stalking their streets.

At some point in July, a tall, thin figure, dressed all in black, began sprinting across the rooftops of O’Donnell Heights. It leaped on and off buildings, broke into houses, attacked people, enticed a young girl to crawl under a car and played music in the nearby graveyard. Groups of young men patrolled the streets, while others waited by their windows at night, keeping a sleepy watch for the “Phantom Prowler” that eluded his pursuers and vanished into the cemetery before he could be caught. By the end of the month, police were arresting people for disorderly conduct and carrying weapons, but the phantom had disappeared and was never seen again. What in the hell happened in O’Donnell Heights in the summer of 1951? To this day, no one knows.

O’Donnell Heights was only eight years old when the mysterious stranger began making his appearances. Built as a housing project for defense industry workers at Bethlehem Steel, Martin Aircraft and Edgewood Arsenal during World War II, it was never meant to be either durable or attractive. Tightly-spaced, two–story row houses went up on sixty-six acres of what used to be farmland, a brickyard that belonged to the Baltimore Brick Co. and part of St. Stanislaus Kostka Cemetery, one of several graveyards in the immediate area. The others included Evangelical Trinity Lutheran Congregational, Mount Carmel, St. Matthew’s and Oheb Shalom Congregation Cemetery, but the phantom would show an affinity for St. Stanislaus and often appeared nearby.

By the time that the local newspapers realized that something very strange was happening in the Heights, the panic was almost over. Most of the stories that remain today come from the back pages of the Baltimore Sun and Evening Sun, which printed a handful of articles between July 25 and July 27, when the sightings came to an end. Reporters approached it as a “tongue in cheek” story with cartoon illustrations. No one seemed to know when the events had started, but on July 24, Agnes Martin told a reporter that the phantom had been seen for “at least two or three weeks.”

The first definite date discovered by researcher Robert Damon Schneck was on July 19, although the figure had undoubtedly been seen a number of times prior to that. On this date, though, there was a full moon and nighttime temperatures were in the 70’s. It was around 1:00 a.m. when William Buskirk, 20, ran into the phantom. He reported, “I was walking along the 1100 block of Travers Way with several buddies when I saw him on a roof. He jumped off the roof and we chased him into the graveyard…” One of the other boys interviewed with Buskirk stated that, “he sure is an athlete. You should have seen him go over that fence – just like a cat.” The fence that surrounded the cemetery was six feet in height and trimmed with barbed wire around the top. According to the witnesses, the figure in black had leapt over it with ease.

Hazel Jenkins claimed that the phantom grabbed her some time the same week. She saw it twice at close-range and may have been attacked when the figure tried to break into the Jenkins home (the article isn’t clear) but her brother, Randolph, saw it soon after. He told a reporter, “I saw him two nights after he tried to break into our house… He was just beginning to climb up on the roof of the Community Building. We chased him all the way to Graveyard Hell.”

The phantom next visited the family of Melvin Hensler, breaking into their house on July 20, but stealing nothing. After this unnerving experience, the family went to stay with Mr. Hensler’s brother, but Mrs. Hensler returned to the house the next day and found “a potato bag left on the ironing board,” which she was convinced belonged to the intruder. Mr. Hensler was so exhausted from staying awake that his eyes ached and he had started talking in his sleep.

Storms on July 23 lowered the temperatures, but had no effect on the phantom. In fact, on July 24, he was especially active. Newspapers reported, “At 11:30 p.m. officers Robert Clark and Edward Powell were called to the O’Donnell Heights area where they were greeted by some 200 people who said that had seen the oft-reported ‘phantom.’ Clark said that they pointed to the rooftops and someone yelled: ‘The phantom’s there!’” The police drove around and arrested a twenty-year-old sailor carrying a hammer. He was fined $5.

A reporter from the Sun found thirty of forty people waiting around the back stoop of a house on Gusryan Street, waiting for the sun to come up. One of them, Charles Pittinger, had armed himself with a shotgun. He interviewed several of them, who passed along rumors and told of their own experiences. Some of them claimed the phantom lived in the graveyard and a woman who lived on Wellsbach Way, adjacent to St. Stanislaus, suggested that the phantom was doing more than jumping fences and breaking into houses: “One night I heard someone playing the organ in that chapel up there. It was about 1 o’clock.”

The phantom was also reportedly seen beckoning to Esther Martin from underneath an automobile, saying, “Come here, little girl.”

The consensus of the crowd was that the phantom easily leaped from two-story buildings, flew over fences and was a general nuisance in the neighborhood. A man named George Cook admitted having mixed feelings about what was happening. He did not deny the reports of the phantom, just the possibility that something extraordinary was involved. In the end, he blamed the media. “It’s ridiculous to believe that a man can jump from a height and not leave a mark on the ground. Yet this character does it all the time. It’s my idea that when this thing is cleared up… it’ll turn out to be one of these young hoodlums who has got the idea from the movies or the so-called funny papers, and is trying to act it out. This sort of thing appeals to detective story readers who are mainly looking for excitement.”

Meanwhile, the police were busy ignoring the phantom and rounding up the “usual suspects.” On the morning of July 25, they arrested four boys on disorderly conduct charges at an unidentified cemetery. Around 10:00 p.m. that same night, officers arrested three boys on an embankment near the cemetery. Their six companions, all on the lookout for the phantom, fled the scene. An hour later, the police responded to a call from a resident who heard footsteps on his roof, but nothing was found. At some point the next day, Mrs. Mildred Gaines heard the sound of someone trying to break into her house and ran outside barefoot screaming, “It’s the phantom!” It was actually the police breaking down the door to serve a search warrant on the premises. Mrs. Gaines and four male companions were arrested on bookmaking charges.

By this time, the newspaper coverage – which had started off with reporters as baffled as the residents of O’Donnell Heights – turned humorous. The stories poked fun at the sightings, reported pranks by neighbors pretending to be the phantom, and carried a story about a phantom sighting on a rooftop that turned out to be a ventilation pipe. On July 27, the Evening Sun announced there were no more reports and that, “Police think it might be a teenager.” The phantom was gone, but the heat was back, with high humidity and temperatures in the middle 90’s. Like most bizarre “flaps” of this type, there was no satisfying resolution to the panic created by the Phantom of O’Donnell Heights. An unofficial version claimed that residents finally chased it into the cemetery, where the phantom jumped into a crypt and vanished for good.

No one can say who, or what, this figure may have been, although based on the sheer number of sightings, something weird was happening in the neighborhood. Descriptions of the phantom were fairly consistent, considering that that the encounters were brief, took place in the dark, and he was usually moving at a good clip. William Buskirk said, “He was a tall thin man dressed all in black. It looked like he had a cape around him.” The only one who mentioned the phantom’s face was witness Myrtle Ellen, who said it was horrible. She also agreed about the dark costume. The newspapers described the phantom as “black robed,” suggesting long, loose-flowing clothes. Mrs. Melvin Hensler, discoverer of the discarded potato sack, saw the phantom three times and said that during one sighting, it looked as though he had a hump on his back.

Theories abound about the “Horror of the Heights.” Sociologists have described the events in O’Donnell Heights as an example of an “imaginary community threat,” suggesting that the 900 families living there experienced some type of mass hysteria, whipped up by rumors and the media. It’s true that misconceptions undoubtedly played a part in the events, but they don’t explain the relatively straightforward experiences described by William Buskirk and other witnesses. The police never denied that people were seeing something but, like George Cook, thought it would turn out to be a “young hoodlum.” But if it was, he was never caught, exposed or confessed.

It’s also hard to accept that the newspapers played a part in creating any hysteria. The two local papers ran only six articles on the phantom, two of them mere fillers, and they were printed as the sensation was coming to an end. The only one that might be called “sensationalistic” ran on July 25 and included the experiences of a number of witnesses. However, it ended on a sober note: “The question of the prowler of O’Donnell Heights continued to be not one of the phantoms, but of people reacting to (and possibly creating) the unknown with their imaginations.”

Some have taken the phantom’s affinity for St. Stanislaus as evidence that it was an actual ghost. Part of O’Donnell Heights was built on land that once belonged to the cemetery, which contains a great many unmarked graves from the influenza epidemic of 1918. Also, bodies were exhumed and reinterred when Boston Street was extended in the 1930s, but it’s hard to see how this would stir up a spirit in July 1951.

There has also been the suggestion that the phantom was some sort of mysterious entity like the “Mothman” of West Virginia or the “Mad Gasser of Mattoon,” which plagued a small town in Illinois in 1944.

Whatever it was, it remains a mystery and one that – like far too many others – will simply never be solved.

#The Boogeyman of Baltimore 1951 #paranormal #supernatural #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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starlitangels · 1 year

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The High School Years

@darlin-collins Here’s the thing I mentioned I should write in that little exchange we had! 4.3k words I gave Guy a last name and I gave him a last name that I thought was funny because it’s meta

—

Freshman Year

“Now, this is what’s considered a ‘plot hole,’ but it’s important to bear in mind that when it comes to fictional narratives, nothing is ever going to be a perfectly-constructed story. There are always going to be holes. Just like there are in real life.”

Guy snickered and leaned over to Geordi. “That’s what she said,” he muttered.

Geordi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the snort.

Mrs. Hensler narrowed her eyes. “Guy Erikson, if you don’t stop, I’m going to have to separate you and Geordi.”

Guy curled his shoulders forward. “Sorry, Mrs. Hensler,” he said.

The English teacher sighed and turned back to the board. “However,” she continued lecturing, “This isn’t exactly a plot hole if you know what to look for. So, your main assignment for class today is to use the critical thinking skills we’ve gained from our readings this year and work with your table and figure out how that hole is not actually a hole at all.”

Guy sputtered and dissolved into a fit of giggles. Which made Geordi start laughing at him.

Mrs. Hensler sighed. “Guy. Geordi. Opposite corners of the room,” she said, pointing to each of them and then their new seat in turn. Geordi didn’t complain as he scooped up his binder and backpack and moved to the table in the back corner of the room. Guy lolled his head back with a dramatic sigh before going to the table directly in front of Mrs. Hensler’s desk. Which only ever had one other occupant.

“Hi,” he said, dropping into the seat across the circular table from them. “I’m Guy.”

They grunted.

Mrs. Hensler eyed Guy with annoyance in her face, before turning back to the room. “You have until the last ten minutes of class to work on this with your table. Then we’ll present your findings,” she announced, and went to sit at her desk.

—

I pulled a piece of paper out of my binder and a pen, ignoring the newcomer to my table completely as I flipped open our book.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the newcomer said. He wasn’t tall—compared to me, anyway—and he was skinny and blond.

“Nope,” I replied.

“I’m Guy,” he repeated.

“Said that already.”

“Yeah. And you didn’t give me your name. So I’m giving you mine again,” he said. He put a lot of excessive inflection into his words. “And I’m gonna keep giving you mine until you give me yours.”

I blinked at my paper, reining in my temper, and grunted. I wasn’t stupid. I knew why Hensler put him at my table. No one ever sat near me. I was quiet. I tended to be grumpy. A lot of my classmates found me intimidating. Especially considering I was tall and muscular for a high schooler. I was one of the people that even the jarheaded jocks knew better than to mess with.

“C’mooon,” Guy groaned. “You can at least give me your name.”

“I take it you don’t pay attention during roll call?”

He puckered his lips, pretending to think. “No.”

I grunted again. “Didn’t think so.”

Scribbling some notes from where I’d put a sticky note as a bookmark in my book, I continued to ignore the intruder at my table.

“Have I seen you somewhere before? I mean, besides just this class?” he asked.

“We’ve gone to the same school since middle school.” I made another note on my lined piece of paper. “We just don’t run with the same crowd.”

“Do you run with any crowd at all?”

I growled in frustration and slammed my pen down on the table. “Do you ever shut up? I’m trying to get this assignment done. I don’t need a social visit distracting me.”

“I meeeaaannn… we’re supposed to be working together.” He gave me a bounce of his eyebrow. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Hey, if you don’t wanna be my friend, that’s fine. I get it,” he said, voice going higher-pitched—and cracking like he hadn’t finished puberty yet (wouldn’t surprise me). “But we are supposed to work together.”

“Hm.” I flipped a few pages and made some more notes.

“Have I offended you or are you always like this?”

“Always.”

“Why?”

“Easier.”

Guy sighed dramatically, throwing his head back, and leaned back in his chair. “This is like talking to a brick wall!” he complained.

“Then stop talking and read,” I snapped.

Guy lowered his head to look at me out of the corner of my eye. “I still don’t know your name.”

“Great.”

“If you don’t give it to me I’m gonna start calling you a nickname.”

“That’d certainly be a first. No one calls me anything.”

He put his elbows on the table and braced his chin in both hands, lips puckered again in thought. I glanced up, briefly met his eyes, and then looked back down at my piece of paper. His eyes were a greenish-blue and framed with long, dark gold lashes.

And I hated my teenage hormones for the way my heart stuttered when I met his eyes. Why is he cute? I thought grumpily.

He giggled.

“What?” I grumbled. “What are you smiling at?”

“We’re gonna be friends,” he declared.

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t want to be friends with me. I’m no fun.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone.��

“I think you’re fun!”

I shot him a look with narrowed eyes. “You literally just said talking to me was like talking to a brick wall.”

“Well… yeah. But I think you’re gonna be soft and sweet on the inside!”

I full-on glared at him. “Try me, Erikson,” I snapped.

He raised a brow. “At least let me buy you dinner first.”

I slammed my pen down again. “That’s it,” I growled. “Say something like that again, and you’ll be going to the nurse’s office with a concussion.”

Guy just winked.

I had to commend his audacity, if nothing else.

“Anyway, we’re totally gonna be friends.”

I rolled my eyes. “Get reading,” I ordered.

“Tell me your name first.”

I snorted. “I’ll tell you when you earn it.”

“Fiiine.” He hunched over his book.

I started to write my notes in blissful silence, ignoring the light chatter of the other groups. My table was usually empty, so table activities tended to just be me. Unless a teacher was particularly mean and made me join another table.

After a moment, my pen stilled on my page. “Hey,” I said softly. Guy looked up. “Wh… why…” I huffed in frustration. I’d never been great with talking to people. “This is an honors class. I’ve graded your quizzes before. You do well. You talk with big words and you usually use them correctly. So why do you act like such an idiot?”

Guy gaped at me, like he hadn’t realized I was paying attention. To be honest, I hadn’t meant to. It was just a recurring pattern I’d noticed.

He shut his mouth and shrugged. “Being serious and mature is boring,” he said.

“Maybe there’s something to be admired in that,” I said to myself.

If Guy heard me, he didn’t respond.

—

Sophomore Year

I stood in the back of the auditorium, leaned against the wall with my arms crossed. Assemblies were stupid and I hated them.

A blond head of messy hair sidled up beside me. “Psst!” Guy hissed, looking up at me. “Bored?”

“Unbelievably.”

He held a hand out. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I know a way to make you un-bored.” He grinned mischievously at me. “C’mon!”

I planted my hand on top of his. “Fine,” I grumbled.

Snickering like a gremlin, Guy dragged me to one of the side-doors to the auditorium. He waited and peeked around to check for nosy teachers and then opened the door. We both slipped through.

We ran down the abandoned hallway and out the door to the music wing, spilling us out into the parking lot. “Heh-heh-heh!” Guy exclaimed. “They never watch the band room doors!”

He pulled me along to a beat-up red sedan. “Come on! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” He bounced excitedly as he fumbled with a set of keys, jammed one in the passenger door lock, and unlocked the car. He opened the door for me and waved me in.

“Where are we going?”

“Ice creeeaaam!” He shut the door and ran around the car to get in the driver’s seat.

I snorted. “The last thing you need is more sugar, Erikson.”

“I know. But it’s delicious.”

I snorted as I sorted through my backpack. I swore under my breath. “I don’t have my wallet. A friend picked me up this morning so I didn’t think to bring it.”

Guy blew a raspberry. “Don’t worry about it. I’m buying.”

“Erikson—”

“What? It was my idea! I should be buying.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

He shrugged. “Too bad.”

“Have you even had your license long enough for you to have friends in the car? You have to have had it for six months if there isn’t someone over twenty-one in the passenger seat.”

“I’ve had it for six months as of last week,” Guy informed me matter-of-factly. Still grinning like a madman.

He drove us to the diner up the road from West Dahlia High and hopped out.

“Don’t get out! I’m getting your door,” he said as I froze with my hand on the handle. I rolled my eyes and got out of the car on my own. “Awww. C’moon! I was gonna be a gentleman! Why must you spoil my chivalry?”

“Stop being dramatic and get in the diner,” I snapped, waving him toward the doors.

He held his hand out for me, that mischievous look on his face.

I took it with a dramatic sigh and let him drag me inside.

We ordered and found a small corner table to sit and eat our ice cream at.

Guy talked with his hands and always had a smile on his face. He was exuberant and funny, never taking my attitude personally.

Last year, he’d declared that we’d be friends. This year, I was begrudgingly accepting to myself that we were.

Especially when he gesticulated so wildly that he knocked his cup of ice cream over, spilling the melted goop gathering at the bottom all over the table. He swore and scrambled to clean it up, apologizing profusely to the staff. I just watched, keeping my spoon firmly in my mouth to hide my smile.

He was still cute, and I still hated myself for thinking so.

—

Junior Year

Guy stared shamelessly at me, slack-jawed, as I pulled into the parking stall next to his and swung my leg off my motorcycle while killing the engine. “Since when do you have your motorcycle license?”

I pulled my helmet off and snorted. “Got it over the summer. Been saving up for a bike since I was thirteen. Always knew I wanted one.”

Guy blinked several times. “I think watching you get off that thing is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Erikson.”

“No, no. I’m serious. Dead serious. That was hot.”

“Get in the school before you say something even stupider.” I tucked my keys in my pocket and clipped my helmet to my backpack strap before marching toward the school entrance.

Guy stumbled after me after a moment, tripping on his own toes. He was getting taller, but still shorter than me.

I slung an arm around his shoulders and yanked him to my side, giving him a noogie. “You ever gonna fill out or are you gonna have twig limbs forever?” I asked, smirking while Guy tried—and failed—to get out of my grip.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he protested. “I am what’s called a late bloomer. So I'm going to look young for a long time. You’ll be jealous when we’re fifty and I still look thirty!”

I snorted. “No. When we’re fifty, I will still look thirty. You will look like you’re twelve, at this rate.”

“You are so mean!”

I just laughed and let him go in order to open the door to the school. I let him pass through it first before ducking inside myself.

“Okay, but seriously,” Guy said, not sounding serious at all, “why are you so resistant to me acknowledging how hot you were getting off that bike?”

With an exaggerated eye-roll, I pulled the leather motorcycle jacket that I’d also recently bought off as we went to our lockers and didn’t reply, just putting my combination in and opening the door. I hung the jacket up on one of the coat hooks inside, my helmet on the other. In the corner of my eye, Guy was actually trying to be subtle for once as his eyes slowly traveled up my body and he looked away when I started to turn toward him to shut my locker door. But as I looked away, he resumed right where he left off.

“Did you grow even more over the summer?” he complained.

I laughed and leaned against the lockers. “Guy, we established two years ago that you’re never gonna get taller than me.”

He pouted dramatically. “I might!”

I snorted. “You won’t.” I licked and bit my lower lip, ignoring Guy looking me up and down again. “So how was your summer? Enjoy your time back in Maine with your… aunt and uncle, was it?”

“Yeah. It was fun. Missed the group and all the dumb stuff we get up to but I liked hanging out with my family for a couple months. Next summer they wanna take me to New York. A last hurrah before my senior year of high school.”

“Sounds fun.” I nodded.

He gestured for me to follow him with a wave as the warning bell rang. “C’mon. Walk me to class.”

“Why?”

“Becaaauuussseee! You’re my best friend and your class is close to miiinnne!”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Today only since it’s the first day of school. After that, you’ll have to get lost by yourself.”

“I’m not gonna get lost! I spent two whole years here!”

“And I still get texts from you every couple weeks, ‘Heeelp! I’m by room three-oh-two and don’t know how to get back to the band room!’ like a child.” My Guy impression was pretty good after two years.

He sighed. “Pleeease?”

“I’m already walking with you, moron.”

He perked up. “Yay!”

The day crawled by, and at the end of it, I was leaning against my bike in the parking lot, waiting for Guy to get to his sedan.

“Get on,” I said, holding out my spare helmet that had been tucked in the under-seat storage compartment. “We’re going for a ride.”

“Uh… I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He took the helmet anyway.

“Scared, Erikson?” I swung my leg over the bike, noting Guy’s eyes quickly sweep the length of my leg as I did so.

“No! I’m… apprehensive.”

“Which is another way of saying you’re scared. Hop on.”

Guy put his backpack—and mine—in the passenger seat of his sedan and very carefully climbed onto the back of my bike. “Wh… where are the handles for me? Under the seat?” He clicked the helmet into place.

“Sure but they suck. Geordi tried ‘em and about fell off last week before you got back from Maine. Put your arms around my waist and hold on tight.”

Apparently, Guy didn’t need to be told twice. He wrapped his arms around me as I turned over the engine.

I pulled my helmet on, put up the kickstand, and back-walked out of the parking stall.

“Hold on, Erikson!” I called.

“What? Wh-why-AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

I laughed as I tore out of the parking lot and down the road. Guy’s grip around my waist tightened to the point where it almost distracted me. But I managed to keep my focus on the road and driving.

We went around the neighborhood, not going for too far or for too long. Guy slowly relaxed enough to stop screaming directly in my ear, and actually started laughing. I smiled behind the tinted visor of my helmet. He was so cute. Not that I’d ever admit it to his face or anything—I couldn’t imagine how insufferable he’d get if I did—but I could think it if I wanted.

Guy’s arms, twiggy and skinny though they were, were stronger than I expected. But there was comfort in having them around my waist. Guy Erikson was the only person who was gentle with me all the time. Including my family. He never shouted. He never got violent. He’d rather give me a hug than a friendly punch to the shoulder. He was the only one who saw past the rough-and-tough exterior I put on like armor. He wasn’t intimidated by or scared of me ever.

And I more than appreciated him for it.

I stopped in the hills outside of Dahlia on the north side of town. It looked out over the whole city. “Hey Erikson. Check it out,” I said, killing the engine and hitting the kickstand into place with my foot but not yet leaning the bike on it.

Guy took in the view. “Wow,” he said, yanking the helmet off. “This is beautiful.”

His eyes flicked over to me on the last word. I pretended not to notice.

The same way I pretended I wasn’t looking at him instead of the view as we both dismounted the bike. Dorky, nerdy beanpole who I could throw over my shoulder like nothing—who had somehow become my best friend. The first friend I’d really made in years. The only one who stuck around. Who thought I was worth spending time with. Geordi had been added to the list not long after by proximity, but Guy was the first. He was the only person I wanted to share things with. Good news and bad, I always thought of telling Guy first.

All summer, he greeted me with a “good morning” text. And even if we didn’t send a single other text to each other all day, I’d still get a “goodnight” before he went to bed.

I swallowed down all the words I wanted to say. The ones bubbling up in my throat. I like you, Guy. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else. Please stay in my life forever. In whatever form that takes. Now wasn’t the time. It never seemed like it was the time.

“C’mon, Erikson. Let’s get you back to your car so your parents don’t flip about where you’ve been.”

“I mean. If you follow me home…” He put his tongue between his teeth as he grinned. “We can show them why I was home late!”

“If you want.”

“Will your parents care?”

I leveled a look at him and he shut his mouth. “My parents would neither care nor notice if I vanished for a week until the school called them to say I had three unexcused absences,” I grumbled.

“Okay. Theeennn… let’s go!”

I smirked and climbed back on the bike. Smirking a little to myself at the way Guy’s eyes focused quite squarely on my backside as I swung my leg over it. “Get on, you pervert,” I teased.

“What if I’d rather get you off?” he asked suggestively.

“Do you want me to leave you out here in the middle of nowhere so the forest ghosts can come get you?”

“There are no forest ghosts, you goof,” Guy joked as he climbed on behind me.

“There are too,” I retorted sarcastically, not actually believing my own words. “That house like a mile back from here is totally haunted.”

“Just because it’s kinda overgrown doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”

“They say the guy who disappeared the day Surge broke when we were kids over at Wonder World lives there,” I teased.

Guy just snorted. “Yeah right.”

“You know I’m just messing with you, Erikson.”

“I know.”

“Ready to go?”

“Ready!”

I gunned the engine and we tore down the road back toward Dahlia.

—

Senior Year

“Honeeey! I’m hooome!” Guy called as he threw open the door to my parents’ house. I jolted and jumped up from where I’d been sitting on the floor in my bedroom, running out of the room and thanking the whims of the universe for my parents not being home.

“Since when are you back from New York?!” I shouted as I ran for the stairs.

When I reached the top of them, I froze, looking down at the entrance hall.

Guy had finally filled out. He was still skinny and a couple inches shorter than me, but his shoulders were broader and he actually had muscles. His favorite T-shirt was stretched tighter across his chest than it had ever been and I couldn’t help but stare for a moment at the lines of strain in the fabric.

I shook myself out of it and bolted down the stairs. Nearly tackling him with the force of the impact when I slammed him into a hug. I buried my face into where his shoulder met his neck and fought back tears.

“You’re home,” I said softly.

“Awww. Did you miss me?” he teased.

I shoved him away from me. “Never mind. Go back to New York.”

“Nooo… don’t push me away—I miiiiissed you! Ihaven’tseenyouforthreemooonths! Pleeease?”

He held his arms out and wiggled his fingers.

I sighed and went back to hugging him. “Fine. You train wreck.”

“Excited for school to start next week? Our last year!”

“Yeah. Sure.”

He nuzzled his face against the side of my head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I grumbled.

“Wanna go get some pizza?”

I took a deep breath. “... Sure.”

“Great! I’m driving. And then you’re gonna stay the night at my place.”

“Why?”

“How long have you been upstairs in your room?”

“Shut up.”

“Your family’s fighting again, aren’t you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No. But you’re my best friend. And if that means dragging you away from a bad day, then that’s what I’m gonna do. Now come on. I’m hungry and I want pizza. Specifically, I want pizza with you.”

I let him drag me outside and to his beat-up red sedan. He opened the door for me as he always did before getting in himself.

“So,” he said as he turned over the engine. “I had a lot of time to think while I was in New York.”

“That sounds bad for you,” I said flatly.

“Shut up!” he protested even as he laughed. “As I was saying. I did a lot of thinking. And…” He cleared his throat, waiting at the bottom of the driveway for the road to be clear. “And… and, uh…”

“What is it, Erikson?” I prompted, as surly as usual.

“I missed you, okay?” Guy exclaimed.

“We’ve established that. Back in the house.”

“No. I… I mean… dammit. Just. Come here.” Keeping the car stationary at the bottom of the driveway, he let go of the wheel, grabbed me, pulled me closer to him—

And planted a full kiss on my mouth.

I’d never understood the rom-com teen movie junk about feeling or seeing fireworks when someone kissed you—

Until right then, as the whole universe seemed to click into place. Like the answer to every internal conflict I had was resolved in an instant.

Still, as Guy pulled back, my eyes were wide in surprise.

“Look, I know you don’t feel the same about me. You’ve said before that you’re not really the type to fall in love and I know that—but I’ve liked you for years and I couldn’t stop thinking about you all summer and there was this moment when I was on the ferry with my aunt and uncle and cousins and we were going to the Statue of Liberty where I just really wanted to have you with me, holding my hand and I just—mmph!”

I cut him off by dragging him into another kiss, shoving one hand into his thick blond hair and twisting my fingers around his waves.

After a moment, he sighed and leaned into it.

“I… I really like you too, Guy,” I whispered breathlessly, barely brushing his lips with mine. “And I missed you so much while you were gone. It was way too quiet here without you.” I kissed him again.

He blinked at me. “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me by just my first name.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

“Do we… wanna skip the pizza and just go straight to my parents’ place?” Guy asked.

As if in response, my stomach grumbled.

“Never mind then,” Guy decided. “We’re getting pizza first.”

He righted himself in the driver’s seat—looking a little dazed—swallowed, and finally was able to turn onto the road.

I slouched down in my seat. “What… what does this make us?” I asked quietly.

“Well… I was hoping it meant I get to introduce myself as your boyfriend now.”

“Okay,” I agreed. Maybe a little too quickly.

“Wait—really?!” He perked up, lighting up like a chandelier.

I sighed in exasperation. “Just… don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t! You won’t! I’m gonna be the best boyfriend ever!”

Impulsively, I leaned across the front seat bench and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. He squeaked and turned bright red. “I’m glad you’re home, Guy.”

He shot me a quick look, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Glad to be home, uhhh… honey!”

“We’ll have to workshop your pet names later, you moron,” I muttered.

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Guy #Redacted Honey #Redacted Pizza Guy #Honey #Guy #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic

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