Chapter Text
He was blonde. No mistake about it.
The scant peeks out of the corner of your eyes has told you that much about him. At least.. you're pretty sure it's a him. It's not like you can just ask turn around and casually ask this flighty figment that might actually be in your head if your feeling, your assumption of his presence was correct. Things would get awkward rather fast if you suddenly went around asking your imaginary friends for details like that.
Though, were you even really friends? It was more like you occasionally crossed paths, walking into a room just as the blonde vision was escaping from it in a blur. A whiff of something sweet on the breeze rushing out of a room in your face. A chill. The haunting sound of music and remixes of songs you'd just played earlier was just far enough to make you question if you'd really heard the smooth voice or if it was only a creation of your vivid imagination.
Your dad was of no help in this discussion. He felt you were a little too old to still believe in ghosts, but never said as much outright. After all, you lived, breathed, and ate the study of spectrology and parapsychology and that wasn't exactly something that was going to disappear after nearly twenty years of absolute obsession.
This ghost in your apartment, however, might. If you weren't careful about it, of course.
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He seemed skittish.
You were fairly sure the specter was a human now, maybe even a teenager. It wasn't a residual haunting and reacted to your every move, and whenever you were in his presence it just screamed familiarity. That was eventually proven correct. Quite loudly, actually, into a hand held recorder.
You'd been trying to get him to speak for months now, trying to make contact, hungry for information and conversation with the wispy being instead of just these sneak peeks. Bored out of your mind one evening, you delete the recordings of your own voice talking and asking questions to silence as the presence stubbornly refused to speak up, and try again.
“Tell me your name.”
A pause.
“How old are you? How long have you lived here?”
Another pause, to silence, as you stare at the hand held recorder in annoyance, then out around the room.
“I know you're here, and I just want to talk with you! This is a dream come true at this point, having someone like you around. I've seen you a lot. I know you're here and watching me a lot, can't we just.. you know. Hang out?”
More pausing, more silence, more lack of signs in the room that the ghost was listening. What a douche, playing hard to get! It made your heart pump faster, excited for the challenge. Maybe you had to earn that talk.
You only manage a few more questions before impatience itches at your resolve enough to get you to stop and immediately check the tape. Your own voice plays back, more obnoxious than you remember sounding, and you hold your breath to listen closer.
“Tell me your name?” you had asked.
Softly, barely above a whisper, was a reply that made your heart race.
….Dave....
Worrying your bottom lip, glancing around in case you could catch sight of the ghost even now, you strained your ears to hear the soft voice.
“How old are you? How long have you lived here?”
…... Eighteen......... Ages....
You're fairly sure your heart was going to explode. Oh, fuck, actual contact. Actual real life contact! Well. Real spectral contact, not real LIFE contact, it was jus- Oh FORGET the specifics, you'll work them out later! Excited to hear if hanging out was an option, you press your ear flat up against the speaker in preparation.
“I know you're here, and I just want to talk with you! This is a dream come true at this point, having someone like you around. I've seen you a lot. I know you're here and watching me a lot, can't we just.. you know. Hang out?”
The sound that came ripping through your ear, hammering the eardrum till you worried it'd burst, was not a whisper but a shout.
YES. YESYESYESYESYES.
Cussing, you drop the recorder and lean back to rub at your aching ear and temple, whining miserably. Fucking A that was gonna hurt. Were you bleeding? You check your palm for traces of blood, every pulse of your blood ringing in your skull with a high pitched resonating whine to follow.
“Oh, you little shit, that was so fucking rude! Holy... I COULD HAVE GONE DEAF, DAVE!”
Dave. The ghost had a name now. He was Dave. You were sharing an apartment with someone named Dave, who apparently liked to play pranks as mean as yours could occasionally be.
“...Dave,” you say again hesitantly, rolling the name around on your tongue, tasting it. You've never known anyone with that name before, but it sounded good. Simple, very to the point, solid.
“Dave. I'd like to hang out with you. Like I said..? But I can't hang out unless I can see you,” you explain, slowly sitting up again to glance around. “I mean. I can keep asking questions, but considering I've already seen you before? Maybe we could try that?”
No sign of the blonde hair out of the corner of your eyes, no chill breezes. Shit. Have you scared him off again with all the shouting?
“...Please? Really. Dave, anything would be great,” you promise. “Maybe you can, like. Give me some kind of sign? Knock something over, maybe. NOT SOMETHING EXPENSIVE,” you tack on immediately, hands raised in warning. You weren't fucking made of money here, and this spirit was a prankster.
You run your hand up through dark, messy hair, and breathe deeply a few times. Focus. Be professional, stop being such a paranormaboo!
“Or, maybe instead, interact with me directly. Cold breeze, a touch. Tug my hair, or my clothes. Whatever you want, just go for it. The Egbert is your oyster,” you declare, raising both arms in display before glancing around the room again hopefully.
The touch at your back is cold as ice and gentle. Barely there pressure. It split into two separate sources then and headed for either side of your waist. Hands? Dual contact points, prolonged contact, oh my god this is amazing. Who cares that the skin on your back feels like it's on fire from the cold? There was a fucking ghost touching you.
Hugging you.
The barely there touch had stopped moving when it was in a hugging position, a third point of contact resting at your upper back. You rack your brain trying to trace what the third pressure point would be. ...A second ghost? No. No.
Was this spirit actually a spectral tentacle user?!
No, that was too anime.
…... John......
The third point of contact was a head, a face, a mouth that moved at the same time you heard your name beside your ear. It sounded so far away, yet he was literally right there. How far, really, were you apart right now despite sitting in the same spot..?
“...Dave?” you hesitantly whisper after wetting your lips, burning from irritating the few fresh cracks on their surface from being too dry. “Dave, I can hear you now. I can feel you. Keep going, I'm able to tell where you are.”
…... John.......
His voice was softer now, tinged with exhaustion. One of the hands disappeared from your waist, followed soon by the other. Dave's face remained firmly against your upper back. Direct contact took so much energy out of spirits. This entire situation had to be so draining, you pitied him intensely. But your need for contact, for knowledge, was too strong.
“Dave, you're fading. I can still feel you, I can hear you. Listen to me. Please, do this to me any time you want. Okay?” You swear the pressure against your back is lessening, the chill beginning to leave your flesh.
“I'm serious. Any time you want. I don't even care if I'm sleeping. I want to hang you with you, I won't mind being bothered, just touch me any time you want. It's gotta be lonely not having anyone else here since I live alone, right?” you prod. “Promise me, Dave? We can keep hanging out?”
The pressure leaves your back finally, icy skin growing flush with returning warmth, and your heart deflates a little. Dave was already gone, worn to his limit. Had you made it worse? Would he be back at all, or was that just.. the end. The singular contact with a ghost, or the best hallucination of your life.
You reach for the recorder and flick it on.
“Dave. ..Are you still there?” You pause for a moment. “Did you understand what I said earlier, about being fine with anything at all from you?”
Another long pause before you blurt out, “I don't want to lose you so fast.”
Where the fuck had that even come from??
You turn the recorder to playback and listen closely.
“Dave. ..Are you still there? ….... Did you understand what I said earlier, about being fine with anything at all from you?”
Complete silence, not even a hint of a whisper. You sigh in frustration and try to ignore the clench of misery in your stomach.
“I don't want to lose you so fast.”
….... Always here..... for.... John...
Your smile sustains you through the evening and on into bed. You're mostly certain something brushes the hair away from your brow in the middle of the night, something chilly and barely there.
Nothing but peace surrounds you.