things change, but for now I’ll leave town

Freddie has no idea how long he's been stuck like this. He hadn't really paid all that much attention to the time before wandering out and time, it seems, passes differently when you're hopping about on four legs.

He'd only gone out to pop in on Biffy. Trouble is, he's not all that certain on where Biffy's place is, having only been there the once. It's not too surprising that he'd gotten a bit lost and the little cottage he'd found had been eerie from the start, yet he couldn't have predicted that this would happen in particular.

At first, he thought maybe he'd accidentally eaten some mushrooms or been slipped some other hallucinogen without his knowledge. Though he hadn't spoken or really even seen anyone in over an hour, he couldn't imagine any other explanation. In the blink of an eye, the entire world around him had reoriented itself, every object looming high above him and the air oddly distorted, sounds louder and heavier, shaking the ground beneath him, every smell somehow sharper and duller both at once.

It was dizzying, sending him reeling and he nearly toppled over on the spot.

Which is when he realized his legs weren't working properly. And, rather, that he didn't have legs at all. At least not human ones.

He'd managed to not pass out on the spot, but the sound he made could only be described as a scream. Or a slowly deflating balloon.

He's started running then. Or hopping. Back out of the cabin and through the woods, over branches and rocks and through a creek, as fast as his four legs could carry him. He had no idea where to go, which way direction might lead back to the city, or what he'd do once he got there.

Sheer exhaustion is all that's stopped him now, his heart still pounding as he tries to catch his breath. He aches all over and, though he has a feeling he's not sweating, it certainly feels like he should be.

He's never felt so scared.

And that's when he hears it, a familiar voice ringing through the trees, light and happy and carefree.

Noah.

Hope blooms inside the tiny cavern of his chest and he immediately opens his mouth to call out. His words come out as nothing more than a distressed ribbit that's so alarming he immediately shuts his mouth in horror, eyes wide and body glued to the spot.

They were bound to run into on another, Freddie imagines. As big a city as Darrow is, it does feel abnormally small at times; Freddie's found he runs into familiar faces all the time, particularly the ones he'd rather not.

But he can't say he's displeased to see Noah stepping out of the coffee shop, his hands wrapped around a small cup capped off with a little plastic lid.

"So how do ghosts take their coffee then?" he asks from just behind Noah. He's got his coat done all the way up and his mittened hands shoved in his pockets, a woolen cap on over his ears and he has to tug one earbud out to hear if Noah responds. Though part of him wonders if he even will.

It's been well over a month since they last saw one another. A month since Noah let it drop just what he is. A month to try to bend his head around to the idea that he'd spent several, several weeks fucking a ghost, a boy who's somehow magically tied to a body he may or may not actually possess. Freddie still has a million questions about the whole thing, but he's made no attempt at contacting Noah to ask a single one.

It's a wonder he's doing so now.