There's a ghost living in his new apartment and Yahaba can't muster anything more than utter disdain for it. He doesn't know what it's trying to achieve, but it keeps disturbing him just as he's trying to sleep, or as he's trying to get his university work done.
It's been there even since he moved in, and perhaps his first night in his new bed was a little sleepless, but it's been a week now, and Yahaba is tired, cranky, and entirely unimpressed. He's been brooding over the ghost in every spare moment he gets, trying to work out why it's there and what it wants, but he isn't really getting anywhere.
That evening, when the lights begin to flicker a little while Yahaba is in the middle of doing his homework, he sighs and looks up at the ceiling.
"Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?"
His voice sounds a little too loud in the room, and Yahaba feels a little silly for it, for all of a minute, before he feels the presence of someone else—or something else—in the room with him.
"I mean," a voice speaks up behind him, thin and distant, like the words are being spoken through some sort of barrier, "this is my apartment."
"I signed the lease," Yahaba replies, turning around, blinking with surprise when he's met with a boy who appears to be around the same age as he is. He's transparent, and his legs fade out of sight until there's nothing there, making him look like he's just floating there.
"That's nice, but it's my apartment," the ghost replies. "One of us is going to have to leave, and considering that you can't physically push me out of here, I guess it's going to be you."
"I'm sorry, what?" Yahaba asks slowly. "You think you're going to convince me to move out? What does a ghost need an apartment for anyway?"
"Uh." The ghost looks at him like Yahaba has asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "I live here."
"You're a ghost," Yahaba points out. "I don't think you live anywhere. I don't think you live, fullstop."
"Wow, you're fucking rude," the ghost mutters. "Didn't anyone teach you to be respectful to the dead?"
"I'll be respectful to the dead when the dead isn't being a pain in the ass," Yahaba replies. "What are you going to do, fight me? You said that I can't physically push you out and guess what? You can't touch me either."
"I can…" the ghost blinks. "I can fly through the wiring again and make the power flicker. I can be really annoying."
"Yeah," Yahaba sighs. "I've kind of noticed that already. What's your name, anyway?"
"Futakuchi," the ghost replies.
"Great, Futakuchi," Yahaba says, rubbing a hand over his face. "I have homework that's due tomorrow, and I really don't have time to deal with this right now. I'm going to turn the TV on, and you can amuse yourself while I get this done. Because if I don't, my tutor is going to kill me, and then I'm going to turn into a ghost and kick your ghost ass. Understood?"
Futakuchi turns away with a huff. "Whatever. It better be cartoons."
FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T
word count: 542
There's a ghost living in his new apartment and Yahaba can't muster anything more than utter disdain for it. He doesn't know what it's trying to achieve, but it keeps disturbing him just as he's trying to sleep, or as he's trying to get his university work done.
It's been there even since he moved in, and perhaps his first night in his new bed was a little sleepless, but it's been a week now, and Yahaba is tired, cranky, and entirely unimpressed. He's been brooding over the ghost in every spare moment he gets, trying to work out why it's there and what it wants, but he isn't really getting anywhere.
That evening, when the lights begin to flicker a little while Yahaba is in the middle of doing his homework, he sighs and looks up at the ceiling.
"Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?"
His voice sounds a little too loud in the room, and Yahaba feels a little silly for it, for all of a minute, before he feels the presence of someone else—or something else—in the room with him.
"I mean," a voice speaks up behind him, thin and distant, like the words are being spoken through some sort of barrier, "this is my apartment."
"I signed the lease," Yahaba replies, turning around, blinking with surprise when he's met with a boy who appears to be around the same age as he is. He's transparent, and his legs fade out of sight until there's nothing there, making him look like he's just floating there.
"That's nice, but it's my apartment," the ghost replies. "One of us is going to have to leave, and considering that you can't physically push me out of here, I guess it's going to be you."
"I'm sorry, what?" Yahaba asks slowly. "You think you're going to convince me to move out? What does a ghost need an apartment for anyway?"
"Uh." The ghost looks at him like Yahaba has asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "I live here."
"You're a ghost," Yahaba points out. "I don't think you live anywhere. I don't think you live, fullstop."
"Wow, you're fucking rude," the ghost mutters. "Didn't anyone teach you to be respectful to the dead?"
"I'll be respectful to the dead when the dead isn't being a pain in the ass," Yahaba replies. "What are you going to do, fight me? You said that I can't physically push you out and guess what? You can't touch me either."
"I can…" the ghost blinks. "I can fly through the wiring again and make the power flicker. I can be really annoying."
"Yeah," Yahaba sighs. "I've kind of noticed that already. What's your name, anyway?"
"Futakuchi," the ghost replies.
"Great, Futakuchi," Yahaba says, rubbing a hand over his face. "I have homework that's due tomorrow, and I really don't have time to deal with this right now. I'm going to turn the TV on, and you can amuse yourself while I get this done. Because if I don't, my tutor is going to kill me, and then I'm going to turn into a ghost and kick your ghost ass. Understood?"
Futakuchi turns away with a huff. "Whatever. It better be cartoons."