He prides himself on his ability to stay in people's blind spots, knowing just when to act and knowing how to trick people's brains into making him blend in with the environment. To their brains, he's a blemish, an anomaly that they can't figure out and so they simply erase him from their sight. Nobody takes notice of him unless he wants them to, unless he does something that warrants their fleeting attention.
That's fine by him.
He feels the slight rumble of the ground and lifts one foot up, letting it dangle precariously by the edge of the platform. No one takes notice, people going on with their lives as though nothing were amiss. He figures that if he does it just right, if he jumps at the perfect moment, he'd get away with it. The people milling around, they would only be able to see him once he gets into the bigger picture— in front of a fast-approaching train.
That's fine by him.
The rumbling gets stronger, reverberating inside him through his bones and into the hollow pit in his chest. He sees a girl from the corner of his eye, blond hair tied up into pigtails and a tattered doll hanging from her hand. It's obvious she's not one of them, proof being the gaping hole where a fraction of her skull used to be and the red splattered on her dress. For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to think about her, to briefly imagine what life she used to lead and what led to her death, then he prepares for the jump.
"You shouldn't do that."
Yuuri whips his head around, staring at the man standing beside him. Blue eyes stare back, a ghost of a frown hanging around the space between the man's eyebrows. Yuuri's eyes shift and lands on a shock of silvery gray hair, his mouth almost opening to sound a response. He stops, blood running cold as he spots his mistake just as the man hurriedly speaks.
"You can see me?"
There's a deafening ringing in his ears, his once hollow chest feeling heavy with dread. He turns, willing himself to calm down. Darting his eyes around, he sees that none of the others have paid the exchange much attention, but that would soon change if he doesn't get away from the place. He can feel the silver-haired man's gaze on him, a hand raised as if to reach out and grab him.
No, Yuuri thinks. Not this shit again. He remembers how he had once interacted with one of them, a high school girl sporting a gunshot over her chest. She had followed him home, turning malevolent once Yuuri made it clear he was not open to having a roommate. That situation had escalated into a monthly appointment with a shrink and a one-way ticket to live halfway across the world.
He begins to walk, intent on going to a nearby mall area where he plans to lose the silver-haired man in the crowd. He maintains a brisk pace, moving against the rush of people heading for their morning commute. He rounds a corner and uses this opportunity to check behind him, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees the silver-haired man still standing by the platform, watching people board the train.
Yuuri runs for it, periodically checking behind him to make sure he still isn't being followed. He still takes the long way home, making sure he passes by as many crowds as he can, doing his best to blend in. It's only when he's checked about a hundred times behind him and another hundred through the peephole of his door that he allows himself to breathe. He makes his way into his room on wobbly legs, his limbs shaking from the effort it takes him to contain the sobs threatening to spill out.
Staying in people's blind spots is one of his skills, seeing and being able to interact with ghosts is another. One skill he took pride in and utilized on a daily basis, the other the reason why there are scars adorning his skin. Both gifts of sight, one allowing him to evade it and one allowing him to see beyond what is human. He drags a hand over his face, the image of blood-matted silver hair burned into his retinas. The blue-eyed man had seem upset at Yuuri, most probably aware of his own death and unable to believe that one of the living would want that for themselves, would willingly throw away their life when his had obviously been stolen from him.
Yuuri has half the mind to feel guilty. He walks over to the bathroom, stripping himself of the heavy winter clothes while he lets the tub fill with warm water. Tomorrow, he would go look for a job again, hopefully one with a decent enough pay that he can stop receiving the money his parents send him on a monthly basis. Then he'd be able to stop talking to them and stop pretending for their sake that their son is perfectly sane.
His parents love him, that he's sure of. They make sure he knows this by telling him through text and through call on the rare occasion that he answers the phone. Every time he'd get the envelope containing the cash his parents continuously shelled out for him, there would be a note inside. Sometimes it would be his mother reminding him to never skip meals, sometimes it would be his father asking him when he'd be coming back, and, on rare occasions, it would be his sister asking him how he's doing.
He never answers any of the notes, but he keeps them in a small container, along with the few items he had allowed himself to take with him from his old home.
Tomorrow, he would look for a job. He's not hopeful, his bachelor's degree and various skills usually boiling down to nothing once employers flip over the pages of his resume and they see the medical warning that he comes with.
Tomorrow, he would try, but today he simply climbs into the bathtub and wishes the water would somehow find its way over his head.
Yuuri wants to act surprised, wants to feel surprised, but he had expected this. The woman behind the desk is looking at him with an almost apologetic look in her eyes, her mouth moving along to the words that Yuuri has been hearing interview after interview for over six months now.
"We'll let you know, expect a call from us," is one of the most common ones, most companies not even bothering to come up with an excuse to not hire him. There's also the mighty, "The spot's already been filled, but we'll keep your contact details in case we have an opening." The woman uses something along those lines, visibly squirming uncomfortably when Yuuri fails to react on time.
"Mister..." she looks down at his paper. "... Katsuki. Mister Katsuki, are you alright?"
"Sorry," he says slowly, his mouth feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. This had been the last interview on his list, all the others had been failures of similar kind. "Thank you for lending me your time." He takes his files from the woman's hands, bows his head, and leaves the building. A part of him wants to scream, wants to tear at his suit and rip his hair out from its roots. An act like that wouldn't really do much damage at this point, not when everybody already thinks he's crazy.
The cold air outside hits him across the face the moment he steps a foot onto the asphalt, snow already collecting on the ground. He brings his scarf up to cover half of his face, keeping his head turned down and his eyes firmly latched on the ground before him. He lets his feet lead the way, walking with no particular destination in mind. His hands start to feel numb, the thin gloves doing nothing to protect them from the cold. Each breath he takes is a bit more painful than the last, and when it becomes too much to endure, he lifts his head and looks around, trying to determine where he'd ended up.
His eyes catches sight of a person walking down the street opposite him, facing away from him and giving Yuuri a clear view of his soiled clothes. There's a mixture of excrement and blood on the hospital gown and Yuuri shivers, turning away before noticing the store in front of him. The neon sign is turned off, cursive letters spelling out Eri's Music, and the exterior of the store looks like it needs some repairing here and there. What truly catches Yuuri's attention is the sign hanging around the store's door, words written out in a crude handwriting.
Hiring: Store Clerk
Yuuri clutches at the documents in his hand, peering inside the shop to see a decent number of customers walking around and perusing CDs and albums. He's opening the door before he registers what he's doing, the chime of the bell drawing very little attention from the customers and only an inquisitive look from the man standing behind the counter.
"Yes?" the man prompts when Yuuri just stands there, gawking. "Can I help you?"
"I read the sign," he blurts out, walking towards the counter. At the man's raised eyebrow, Yuuri rushes to add, "The hiring. You're still hiring, yes?"
Yuuri thinks he sees relief wash over the man's expression before he grins at Yuuri, seemingly in triumph. "Hey boss, what did I tell you about that sign? We already have an applicant." He turns to Yuuri, leaning over the counter to appraise the latter's appearance. "You look fancy. You sure you want to work here? Pay's not bad but it can't buy you a suit like that."
Yuuri blinks, looking down and wincing. He had picked this outfit thinking he'd be able to impress the employers, maybe make him look put together and capable of a desk job. He almost snorts at how stupid and naive the idea was. "I've been looking for a job," he explains, glancing up and immediately looking away when he sees the smirk aimed at him. "I've worked at a shop before."
"Fantastic," the man beams just as someone claps him on the back. He turns to the taller male standing behind him and gestures to Yuuri. "Says he's worked at a shop before."
The taller male, a blonde with a muscular frame and a reasonably attractive face, jerks his head at Yuuri and motions for him to follow. He's lead to the backroom, an office of some sort, and the blonde looks at him expectantly, a hand outstretched. Yuuri realizes the man is waiting for him to hand over his files.
Yuuri's folder in hand, the man walks around his desk and sits down, briefly flipping through the papers. He stops at the last page, the one detailing Yuuri's mental health, then opens a drawer and promptly shoves the folder inside. "Kristoff, the guy outside, will be going back to university soon. You'd have to take over his shift. You alright with working until around 10 PM?"
"Yes, sir," Yuuri answers, his heart beating loudly against his chest. The man briefly asks him about his experience working at his parent's inn, seemingly satisfied that he won't be needing any training regarding the counter and customer assistance. He thanks the man, shaking his large hand, and exits the room feeling infinitesimally lighter. The shift would be long, starting from 9 AM to 10 PM, but the pay would be more than enough to cover his rent and living expenses.
Kristoff spots him and nods. When Yuuri answers with the slightest bit of a smile, the other male winks at him. "See you tomorrow."
As it turns out, the store has a pretty decent amount of loyal patrons. Kristoff's job usually consists of locating CDs and albums for customers, restocking shelves, working the counter, and cleaning around the store. Yuuri shadows him for a day and then they split the work between them, Yuuri mostly taking on cleaning and restocking.
A week passes by and Yuuri settles into a routine. He arrives on time, cleans the store, restocks, eats lunch, cleans whenever there aren't any customers around, and occasionally helps out with the counter. He realizes that there really isn't much to do at the store despite the long shift, which is probably why he usually sees Kristoff sneaking around the backroom to nap or use his phone. When the other male isn't doing his job or slacking off, he's bugging Yuuri.
"You know, you're really quiet," Kristoff tells him, watching Yuuri rearranging their CD display. "Like, really, really, really quiet."
Yuuri laughs, the sound sounding nervous and forced even to his own ears. He doesn't know what Kristoff expects him to say to that and because he can't think of a response himself, he goes back to rearranging the CDs. He feels the other male's eyes on him and turns to Kristoff, racking his brain for something to say.
Kristoff speaks again before Yuuri can formulate something to say. "You are Asian, right?"
Yuuri nods, thankful that this, at the very least, he can answer. "Japanese."
The other male moves so he isn't just staring at Yuuri work, grabbing a few CDs and arranging them. From what Yuuri sees, Kristoff mostly just pulls out random CDs, looks at them, then places them back. He asks, "What does your name mean?"
Yuuri hesitates, surprised by the question. "The kanji of Yuuri can be read as "courage to win" or something like that." At that, he feels Kristoff turn to look at him. Yuuri meets the other male's eyes and squirms when Kristoff just keeps on staring. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Kristoff says, moving away from the shelves. He opens his mouth, seemingly to say something, but quickly closes it again, his eyes snapping down to glance at Yuuri's scarred wrist before flicking away. He's looking at something on Yuuri's cheek when he says, "I'm off, school starts tomorrow. I'll see you around on Friday."
Yuuri hums in response, moving on to the next shelf and waving goodbye at the other male. With Kristoff gone and few customers around, the only thing that fills the silence of the place is the music. The owner had explained to him how to use the sound system and had given him a flash drive containing the week's playlist. Yuuri is unfamiliar with most of the songs but he finds that none of them are terrible. He would often look at the laptop, liking a song enough that he would write down the title on his phone so he'd be able to listen to it at home.
He sees the customer looking around the counter, a couple of CDs in hand, and he rushes to attend to them. Not many people come in after that, one or two looking around but not buying anything. Around nine, the owner leaves him with Kristoff's copy of the keys to the front door, tasking Yuuri with closing up. Alone and with nothing to do, he starts flipping through the songs on the laptop, looking for familiar ones.
With a song playing, he wanders around the store, cleaning up as he went. No one comes in, no one usually does around this hour, and he's able to do the closing cleaning just as the song comes to an end. Another song comes on, one he's unfamiliar with, so he moves to change it when he sees someone standing in front of the counter.
He feels his stomach drop, his legs unwilling to move any further once his eyes settle on blood-stained silver hair. There's a tightness in his throat that he knows would result in a scream if he unscrews his mouth open, so he keeps it shut, eyes flickering to the CCTV camera closest to him. He tells himself to breathe, orders his legs to move and carry him towards the counter.
I'll pretend I don't see him, he tells himself. He'll go away. He'll go away. He has to go away.
Yuuri keeps his face expressionless and walks toward the counter, watching from the corner of his eye as the ghost turns to look at him. He reaches for the laptop to change the song, already about to click on the NEXT button when something stops him.
"Please don't."
Yuuri's hand stills, long enough for it to be an obvious response to the ghost's words. He wants to punch himself, wants to hurt himself so bad for being so goddamn stupid. He tries to think of his next move, tries to come up with a way that he'd able to brush off his hesitation and keep on pretending that he's the only one in the store right now.
"I..." the ghost starts, interrupting his thoughts. When the man speaks again, Yuuri notes how his voice is thick with emotion. "I remember this."
There's something almost desperate in the ghost's tone, something that causes Yuuri to slowly look up. The ghost isn't looking at him, blue eyes staring down at his hands. Then the ghost moves and Yuuri is just about ready to bolt until he sees the silver-haired man twirl, hands extended as if they were holding someone against him.
It takes Yuuri a moment to understand what the ghost is doing. The music, the movement of his body... Yuuri has been able to see ghosts all his life, but he has never seen a ghost dance ballet up until that very moment.
The man dances with the utmost grace, leaping into the air and landing on his toes. Yuuri finds himself entranced, watching everything with wide eyes. He catches glimpses of the ghost's expression, face filled with such sorrow that Yuuri feels something in his heart flutter in response. He feels tears prick behind his eyes, bewildering him, and he chalks it up to his brain being unable to cope with the fact that he's watching a ghost dance with both immense beauty and unbearable sadness.
Yuuri is torn between laughing and crying at the absurdity of the situation. The whole point of him leaving was so he could run away from the (literal) ghost of his past yet here he is, watching a silver-haired apparition dance ballet to classical music.
By the time the song ends, Yuuri's cheeks are wet and he finds that he's been clutching at his shirt, his hand directly above his heart. The ghost stands before him holding a pose, one arm extended towards Yuuri and a pale finger pointing at him. A moment passes before the ghost seemingly sags, his arms dropping to his sides and his body losing its graceful posture. The ghost smiles, a forlorn upturn of pale lips, and he whispers, "Thank you."
When Yuuri arrives the following morning, the owner looks at him strangely. He sees the owner's eyes flicker down to look at his wrists, an almost imperceptible nod following soon after. "Are you okay?" the owner asks him, much to Yuuri's surprise.
Yuuri thinks back to what happened last night, belatedly realizing what it must have looked like through the CCTV footage: Yuuri, standing by the counter, listening to classical music and crying while staring into space. He looks down at his arms, wondering if the owner had been checking to see if Yuuri had attempted to do something.
Not that he would see anything there even if Yuuri does decide to hurt himself. It's been months since he came to the realization that cuts on his arms were just too noticeable, too risky.
"Yes," Yuuri says, maintaining eye contact with the owner. "I'm okay, thank you for asking."
At his answer, the owner nods and leaves him to do his job. With Kristoff's absence, the owner lets Yuuri eat lunch at the backroom while the blonde male takes over the counter. Yuuri eats as fast as he can without choking on his food, the owner's surprise evident when Yuuri returns to his post not more than ten minutes after he left.
"It's fine, I'm a fast eater," he tells the owner. An elderly man approaches them, asking for a copy of The Carpenters' last album. Yuuri takes this as his signal to get back to work.
The store is busier than usual today, Yuuri noticing how he's almost never alone the whole time. He interacts with most of the customers, following the tips that Kristoff had given him. On more than one occasion, Yuuri is asked for his recommendation and he timidly suggests a band that he's recently gotten into. He smiles when a couple of people listen to his recommendation and buy the album.
Before leaving, the owner reminds him he can close shop before 10 PM. Yuuri nods, his eye flickering to the clock. He watches as the number of customers dwindle down until he's down to the last one, a student who looks around as if only noticing for the first time how late it is and that he's the last one there. The student mumbles an apology and heads out without buying anything.
The ghost returns right before Yuuri's about to shut down the laptop, making his heart race and his body go rigid for a second. He feels himself relax when he sees the ghost giving him a small smile. Yuuri thinks he might just be imagining things but the smile looks almost sheepish, a request hiding behind the ghost's blue eyes. He looks at the ghost then at the laptop, a silent question. The ghost nods, making the hair on the back of Yuuri's neck raise.
He looks for the same song from last night, ignoring the way his mind screams at him for interacting with a ghost and fulfilling its request. As if to make him painfully aware of the mistake he's about to make, his mind flashes back to the last time he had been stupid enough to associate himself with the dead, his hand stilling before he could press PLAY. He looks at the ghost, still smiling at him shyly, and remembers how it had simply disappeared after dancing last night.
He plays the song and watches as the ghost immediately starts dancing, the movements similar from last night but somehow appearing more calculated. Yuuri has no doubt that this ghost, this man, used to be a great dancer before he had died. The thought of that reminds Yuuri of the blood on the man's hair, knowing that if he were to look he would see the wound on the man's skull.
Similar to last night, the performance ends with the silver-haired man pointing at him and then disappearing into thin air, leaving Yuuri breathless and with a strange sort of sadness that has him screwing his eyes closed. He stays rooted in place for a few moments, the silence surrounding him doing nothing to ease the thoughts scattered around his brain. He starts packing up, his body moving on auto-pilot and his mind still trying racing. He knows he shouldn't entertain the ghost, shouldn't have in the first place and shouldn't continue to do so. On the forefront of his mind he knows this couldn't possibly end well.
Still, he finds himself listening to the little voice speaking to his conscience, the part of him that tells him that the silver-haired dancer wouldn't do anything to him. This little voice tells him that Yuuri might not know the man but he knows the look in the dead man's eyes, knows it because he sees it every time he looks in a mirror and every time he sees himself reflected in people's eyes. He knows what it feels like to be surrounded by people but still be all alone.
Yuuri knows what it's like to be invisible.