#ned cameron

Kieran let out a harsh breath and tucked himself further into his coat. He should have brought a hat. He should have worn thicker socks. He should have stayed in the car. He should have said no when Ned asked if he wanted to go on a research trip with him to a place called "Spider Gate" late on a Saturday night. Kieran should have known better than to think it was for something class-related. He couldn’t count on one hand the times he had seen Ned Cameron working on anything other than his podcast.

The Graveyard Type.

Kieran had given him the title after two drinks at the Twin Bells and he had regretted it from the next morning on. Ned had loved it. Said it was wickedly clever, or something like that. He even had a little logo to go with the eight unpublished episodes he had recorded so far.

When Kieran had given him the list of places around New England that Ned could research, he had been humoring the academic. Feeding the obsession a little, adding a little fuel to the fire. He figured that as soon as midterms started up in earnest, the Englishman would drop the nonsense and they could be normal drinking buddies, maybe even friends.

That was five weeks ago.

Now, Kieran was standing in a neglected quaker cemetery, freezing his ass off in November.

“Why the fuck are we even here?” Kieran whines, bouncing on his toes to try and warm up. It’d be fine if it weren’t for the wind, he told himself. It’d be fine if he had a hat, maybe gloves.

“Language!” Ned calls back.

No matter how much Kieran groused and complained, Ned always answered in a polite, somewhat kind way. As if Kieran's bitching and moaning wasn’t ever going to be enough to get out of this sometimes friendship.

“Language for who? There’s no one here but us!”

“No one living perhaps! But how would you feel if you’d spent your last years in anguish only to be buried in the middle of the woods with no real marker, and the first person you get the chance to talk to in a hundred years is an impatient wanker, yelling about how you aren’t there?”

“How would I feel?”

“Yes, Kier, how would you feel.”

“Probably nothing because death is the end and I will fight you on that, Cameron,” Kieran shouts back.

The wind picks up viciously for a few seconds. Tree limbs shake and sway against the dark sky; leaves twist on the wind, smacking into Kieran's face and hair. He hears leaves crunching under shoes as, he assumes, Ned walks back to where he stands.

“Looks like you’ve upset someone,” Ned hums as he moves around Kieran to inspect the other half of the graveyard. “You should apologize before things get really out of hand.”

“We are outside in the dark, Ned. What’s going to get out of hand besides wild animals?” Kieran rolls his eyes.

Ned pauses and shoots Kieran an irritated look. “Why must you be so impolite? You don’t talk this way to anyone else.”

“Because those people are alive.”

“They were alive once too!”

“Fine then! Because those people are real.”

“How do you know they aren’t?”

“What would you say if I said I just know?”

“I’d say you’re deflecting and that I’d still like you to apologize, even if you don’t believe.” Ned stuffs a hand in his pocket, shining his flashlight in a bright circle between them. “Seriously. You could have done it nine times over by now. If ghosts aren’t real, you’ve wasted two words’ worth of breath. If they are, well. Basic human decency.”

Despite the dark, Kieran squints at him. He grits his teeth together and scowls at the circle of flashlight. Another gust of wind hits him in the face, shivers running through his skin, and he finally relents. “Ugh… fine. Fine! I’m sorry. I’m cold and tired–.”

“And generally have a bad attitude about most things.”

“Sure, Ned. I’m cold, tired, have a bad attitude, and am sorry if I offended you. It was rude of me,” Kieran finished with a huff. He leveled an annoyed stare at Ned. “There. Happy?”

Ned smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I am, thank you.”

Kieran sighs and steps forward. “Whatever. Here, let me help you look.”

“You want to help now?”

“Yes.”

“It’s because I have the flashlight right?”

“Shut up.”

“Kier?”

“Shut up and show me the name. The faster you find what you need, the faster I get to make you buy me Indian take out.”

"I thought we agreed on pizza?"