#this james will later be one of those ppl that claim they’ve had sex w a ghost

[regscupid]

9/4 prompt: sign - ghost regulus au (806 words) - @jegulus-microfic

When James first moved into the flat, Regulus didn’t bother him.

It was a change of pace, as he’d been a bit of a nightmare since he died. He was moody and bitter, which always had a way of seeping into the space around him. ‘Heavy’, that’s what everyone said it felt like when they walked in the front door.

He had built himself a bit of a reputation. Sometimes, if he was bored and in an extra bad mood, he’d put all of his energy into throwing things. Just to see if he could really, but tenants didn’t tend to appreciate it. There were complaints of a figure looking out the window all day and night, but what else was he expected to do with his eternity of afterlife in a one-bedroom flat? Once, he wrote ‘get out’ on a mirror that fogged up from a shower because he thought it would be funny. The lady living there at the time cried and he felt a little bad about it.

But when James moved in, he didn’t want to scare him away.

He was loud, but Regulus didn’t find it grating. He wasn’t sure he’d have the ability to dampen the mood of a room if James was there.

He found himself staring at James more often than he stared out the window. Who cares about all of the bustling life outside, everything he felt he was missing out on, when James was more full of life than anything he’d ever seen while actually alive?

He started doing little things, helpful things, with the energy he was saving up from not being destructive. He’d restart the shitty broken dishwasher when it stopped mid-run. He’d put a glass of water next to his medication so he wouldn’t forget to take it. He even put out a fire on the stove once when James ran off in a panic to find a towel.

James noticed, of course, but Regulus didn’t think he thought much of it. He’d just scrunch his eyebrows, smile confusedly at whatever he did, and move on with his day. Regulus didn’t have a tangible body anymore but he swore he could feel his heart skip a beat whenever he saw it.

One night, a few months after James moved in, Regulus slipped up. It was nearing the anniversary of his death, so the anger and sorrow were stronger than they’d been in a while. He was pacing through the hallway, trying to figure out how to not infect the apartment with his grief and affect James when he came out of his room and stopped in his tracks.

His eyes held on the space Regulus was in. Regulus was confused until he realized he’d worked himself up into a whole full-body apparition.

He hastily b-lined right into the kitchen, out of James’ line of sight, and willed himself away.

James ran after him and looked around, gaze going right through Regulus like it was meant to.

Regulus worried he’d ruined everything. James would move out, because who wants to live in a haunted flat where you could run into a ghost at the end of the hall?

To his shock, at least as much as a dead person could be shocked, nothing really changed. He continued to do favors for James, and James continued to live there.

Only now, James paid closer attention. He seemed to take note of all the things Regulus did. He also started taking pictures randomly, just pointing the camera at any open space and snapping away. Only when he got a picture of the spot Regulus was standing did he realize James was looking for orbs, because of fucking course he was.

James’ eyes widened when he saw the picture. Regulus had stared, frozen in place, waiting for the shoe to drop. But instead of being afraid, James smiled. A big, toothy grin, wholly unfit for finding evidence that his flat is possibly haunted.

“I knew it,” he mumbled. Regulus didn’t get many opportunities to hear James’ voice since he lived alone, so he swooned. Just a little bit.

“Okay, uh, if you’re still here, can you give me a sign?” James spoke loudly, too loud considering Regulus was right in front of him.

Regulus hesitated. James wasn’t scared, he seemed excited. So, Regulus decided to say fuck it. If James wanted a sign he was there, he’d get a sign.

He looked around before his eyes settled on an open notebook on the coffee table next to a pen. He kneeled down and focused his energy into picking the pen up, ignored James’ soft gasp, and started writing.

Hi. I’m dead.

He paused, then drew a little ghost next to it. He thought James would like it.

He did. He laughed, sounding delirious.

“Hi, dead. I’m James.”