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scummy-writes · 17 days ago

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Living with a Ghost: Gilbert

A Fanfic and HC post

Tags: Slight angst, ghostbert, modern au for the mc.

If you enjoy this, please let me know! I may consider doing this with more characters, under the same premise.

There was always a catch. You swore to yourself that you had just been paranoid at the time because for once, for once, something good was happening in your spiraling life. A taste of joy that you were clutching tight in your hands, trying to wish away the faults that could be hidden within.

An apartment. Affordable, so affordable, and in great care. No shitty ‘landlord’ specials were hidden about the premises, the view was alright, you weren’t crazy about the buildings around you, but how can you argue with the perfect reading nook right at the window? You knew all you had to do was ignore the way too nice corporate building and focus on the sky beside it to accept the view.

Small, but not cramped. A perfect size for you. Away from frustrating family and previous roommates, away from the town you struggled in endlessly. A brand new start.

And. Well. A ghost.

The first night you slept there, betwist a flurry of boxes and makeshift furniture, nothing… really happened. Maybe a few small things had been moved around, but honestly that could have just been you misremembering where you put things in your initial moving exhaustion.

You could have sworn that you hadn't opened your box of books due to the fact that your bookshelves weren't even put together yet, but you also would use books to lull you asleep , so... It wasn't out of the question that an exhausted version of you blearily searched for a comfort between pages, before passing out on an unsheeted mattress.

Second night, a glass shattered. So out of the blue in the silence as you read that you ended up clapping the book shut when you jumped. You peered around the corner with a broom in hand brandished as a weapon, only to find a mess of broken glass, and nothing more. You kept explaining it away as perhaps there was a lean on the counter, but you didn't remember leaving a glass out to begin with..

Smaller instances kept happening in a similar fashion, until it all culminated into an event you couldn't explain away, because no matter how much you tried, you couldn't deny what you saw.

In it's core, it wasn't as dramatic as chairs or knickknacks floating through the halls, or blood written on the walls. It was simple, really - a figure behind you in the mirror. One that didn't fade away no matter how much you blinked, nor rubbed at your eyes- no, in fact, when you did so, he laughed at you. Mockingly.

And what does a person do when faced with such blatant proof of some supernatural phenominon existing in front of them? Well... They kept in mind how difficult it was to find an apartment at this price, and the stubborness they wield.

Your first method was simply ignoring him - which... seemed successful at first. A couple of weeks containing peaceful silence, until you were greeted by your living room - full of books and memorabilia - overturned completely. Nothing broken, somehow, but enough of a clear How Dare You for ignoring him. Once that had been 'resolved' through many curses from you and what sounded like ghostly laughter, you met face to face with your spector roommate. Well. As much as you could see, anyway.

He sat at your kitchen island as if he belonged there, smiling as you paused in the entryway. Seeing a ghost in the morning light was an oddity. In contrast to his dark clothing - a grey button up it seemed, along with black slacks - the light behind him showed how he wasn't truly opaque. If you weren't careful, you could lose bits of him to your surroundings.

"Come now, don't act as if you can't see me now. You'd be doing both of our intelect a disservice."

Carefully, you sat across from him, trying to keep from staring too intently.

"There we go. I'm growing tired of our cat and mouse games - I suppose this is where we can meet each other halfway." He spoke breezily, as if this was such a normal occurance for you, before narrowing his eyes slightly, "I won't be answering any trivial questions about my... abilities."

"But... What about your intent?" You attempted to relax your shoulders, but found yourself crossing your hands instead, "You keep breaking things, or making loud noises - "

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so by now." A pause, and then a sigh, almost a mutter, "I dislike being ignored, little rabbit."

"Little...rabbit?"

He ignored your questioning, straightening up his posture. Serious, but his smile didn't match up with his eyes. "For every question I answer for you, you will answer two of mine."

"Wait-"

"I can always test my abilities with othr objects - you seem to fancy that big, black window in your living area."

You paused, trying to match up the description with - "My TV? You... Oh, you're much older than I thought."

...

In the hours of sitting at that kitchen island together, it's there you learn many facts about him, while he learns too many about you.

He's able to give you the exact years he lived, with more of an assumption of his death. Despite his form, his memory is crisp and solid until it comes to the exact date of his death, but he doesn't seem to mind...?

He toys with the empty cup in front of him - a habit, getting drinks for those you talk to - but focuses entirely on you when you reveal more about yourself.

He pressures you to divulge random things after the basics of details of this current decade and similar - hobbies, interests, small morality tests. He seems to be searching for answers to something, but it's difficult to suss out.

Once night crosses the threshold, his form glistens in some areas, fades with the dark in others. His red eye stares at you expectantly, before sighing dramatically.

"Guess we're now 'room mates'... or whatever it is you called it."

Gilbert has been dead since his original timeframe. His heart condition was what tore him away from his time.

It wasn't unexpected. It came when busy, of course, and he remembers it vaguely due to the amount of pain and brainfog he had at the time.

His most prominant thought from that moment was the lamenting of never meeting his 'little rabbit' on the terms he had wished for. She knew nothing of him past the horror stories, and while it seemed apt and fitting, he had at least wanted to know if she had read his book...

He can't remember the early years of his ghost form, or so he says. He won't divulge to you the way it felt to know he would be stuck watching time go on, the hard work he spent his life achieving to amount to nothing, as it repeated again and again.

How he watched the two closest to him weep in private. How their lives changed even without him there to attempt to maintain them. How he was stuck with limitations on how far he could go, with no hope of moving on.

The years blurred together, centuries passing as he remained enfixed to specific locations, watching it all change listlessly, until his present matched closer to yours.

Apartments were odd, he had decided. The tennants were rare, as he often scared them off when they proved annoying. He was ready to do the same to you until he got a glimpse of how you looked.

it was as if his 'little rabbit' had been reborn. Did he believe in reincarnation? He didn't, no, but given his ghostly form, a gaping hole in his chest pleaded for it. Even just a little. At odds with his inherent skepticism.

But what was the point in attempting to bridge a connection if you were weakwilled?

So he scared you. multiple times. How else was he going to test bringing forth the effort of talking to you? It wouldn't matter if you ran off in the end.

So when you didn't, stubbornly ignoring him as if he was a cat looking for attention, he decided a talk was worth it after all.

It didn't take long for his heart to clench, despite how annoyed it made him. You were nearly the same in many ways, and the parts that didn't add up were likely due to the times.

More visits. More tests. More and more discussions. You started calling him 'Gil'. His heart felt again for the first time in what felt like eons, and he despised it.

What was he doing? He'd have to watch you pass just as he did Roderic and Walter. You'd be gone with nothing left behind for him, and the world would keep spinning.

But...

Was it such a terrible thing to enjoy the moment?

You were learning his moods. He was learning your schedule. You didn't open discussions directly, but deliberately left space for him to sit by you.

Some nights, when ill, you even pathetically called for his company. For him to grab you water from the kitchen, or pills from wherever you left them.

And just as pathetically, he entertained it. Over and over again, until there was the routine of 'sleeping' together.

No matter how much his heart yearned for it, there was no warmth shared between you. His 'body' chilled you at any point of contact. Your touch went through him in fleeting sensations. There would always be a wall neither of you could breech.

But it wasn't in his nature to give up from that alone, was it?

I'm not sure why I wrote this. We looked at prompts back when I used to stream my writing, and it led to me thinking about ghostbert, and wanting a situation kinda similar to the ghost situation in Angel. (If you don't know the show.... i can't recommend it. But scary ghost becomes domesticated roommate for a character.)

it's all over the place, it was originally supposed to be 6 paragraphs and the rest be concise, clear, bulletpoints, but I couldn't stop trying to fill in nonexistant gaps, and here we are. this doesnt feel complete to me, but none of my posts ever are. i put them out to stop writing on them and to be free from my sins once more.

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