Phil's house was haunted. He hadn't been living on land for very long, honestly, and he was still getting used to the technology, but he was pretty sure that he had turned the TV off last night. Still, here he was, woken up at five in the morning by the sudden blare coming from his lounge.
Rubbing sleepy eyes, Phil grabbed the remote off the floor – how had that gotten there? - and switched the television off. Five in the morning was too early to get anything done, and too late to go back to sleep, Phil decided as he pulled on his coat. Maybe a walk outside would wake him up.
The air was brisk and it bit into Phil's exposed flesh, something he still wasn't quite used to. Walking had been weird at first as well, but no longer posed him any difficulty. The walk had the intended effect, and by the time Phil walked back into his flat he was wide awake.
His flat was a mess, which was the first thing that caught Phil's attention as he walked inside. All of his cupboards were open, which could have been from his trip to the kitchen last night, and his cereal boxes were thrown on the ground. The dirty dishes that had been slowly collecting in his sink now lay carelessly on the ground, and he noticed sadly that his favorite mug, the one with the lion on it, was chipped. The mess didn't end in the kitchen, however.
His lounge was mostly safe, mainly just pillows on the floor, but his study was a wreck. All of his books had been thrown off his shelves.
All of this led Phil to the only logical conclusion, his house was haunted. He had seen some horror movies with his human friends, Chris and PJ, so he knew the signs now that they had appeared.
The next step was to determine if the spirit was evil or not.
.
Phil's house was safe from the spirit for a week or so, though Phil could've sworn that he could hear piano music coming from the guest bedroom every night before he falls asleep. He could go and check, but he knew that the only thing he would find would be the empty piano, then the music would stop. So he never checked.
Phil also had taken to making too much of whatever he was eating for dinner, leaving it out overnight. It was always gone in the morning.
He didn't know anything about his ghost, and Phil was okay with that.
One morning, as Phil straitened his dyed black hair, two human trends he had tried and fallen in love with, he heard a loud clatter coming from the lounge.
Setting his straightener down carefully, so as to not burn his fingers (again), Phil pulled the bathroom door open slowly. He poked his head out just in time to see a blurry figure toss one of his DVD box sets across the room. Stepping into the lounge, Phil studied his ghost.
The figure was tall, taller than Phil by maybe an inch, and had light brown hair. He looked human, except for the semi-transparency and blurry edges. He looked like he would disappear if Phil blinked.
"Are you okay?" Phil asked, the ghost jumped and for a second Phil thought that he might disappear completely. Instead, he turned around, eyes wide. Phil's breath caught in his throat. The boy was seriously gorgeous. His chocolate hair was cut into a fringe that mirrored Phil's own, and his eyes were the color of coffee.
"You can see me?" the ghost asked, "no one can ever see me."
Phil shoved his hands into his pockets, "I can see you," he whispered, not sure why, but because talking normally seemed too loud. Then he blinked, and the ghost was gone.
.
The next morning, Phil walked into his kitchen, surprised that his cupboards were all closed and that his ghost was sitting on, or rather floating over, one of Phil's barstools.
"I'm sorry that I freaked out, yesterday," the ghost said, "no one's been able to see me before."
Phil shrugged, a human habit he had picked up on, "I'm not like most people," he said as he sat on the other barstool.
"Obviously," the ghost said "I'm Dan." He reached out as if to shake Phil's hand, before pulling it back quickly.
"Phil," Phil said, trying to ignore how uneasy Dan looked.
"I'm sorry, I'm kinda haunting your place," Dan said, sounding sincere.
Not for the first time, Phil found himself wondering if Dan died here.
"You should be sorry for nearly breaking my TV," Phil laughed, pushing away the darker thoughts.
Dan shrugged, his form blurring as he moved, "it's your fault that your remote doesn't work."
.
They actually had a lot in common. Dan, too, had a fascination with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Muse and Toxic by Britney Spears. These things were semi-new to Phil, having been introduced to them by Chris and PJ not long after he started living on land, but for Dan they were things he had loved when he was, well, alive.
Dan didn't like to talk about why he was the way he was. Phil didn't push him, but he had to admit that he was kind of curious. Phil learned that Dan could touch things, but only if he concentrated really hard. Phil learned that Dan could actually leave the flat, but they got pretty weird looks when it looked like Phil was talking to thin air when they were out in public.
He hadn't told Dan what he was yet. Sure, Dan had gotten used to the fact that he was dead, but still alive as a ghost, but how would Dan react if he knew other supernatural creatures really existed?
Phil was lying across the couch, his TV blasting an old episode of Doctor Who, and Dan was hovering a few inches above the floor. The back of his head was nearly touching Phil's stomach. Nearly, because Dan never actually touched Phil. He had touched Phil's things, his presence in the flat, their flat, was obvious.
It was weird because Phil had longed for a human life for so long, and now that he had one, all he could think about was a supernatural boy who had died who knew how long ago.
His fingers itched to bury themselves in Dan's curls. He usually didn't have curly hair. It was new. So was the urge to touch him. These feelings were new.
"How come you have curly hair?" Phil asked.
Dan turned to look at the other boy, "It's naturally like this. When I was alive I always straitened it, so I can usually focus and it will look strait, but I didn't bother today."
"Oh," Phil said, wringing his hands so they wouldn't reach out and involuntarily pass through Dan.
.
"You know you're my best friend, right?" Phil asked Dan as he poured them two bowls of cereal. Normally it took Dan almost an hour, but he would eat it. Sure, Dan didn't need to, but sometimes Phil thought it was nice to pretend that Dan was still alive.
"You're my best friend, too," Dan said with a grin.
"I want to show you something," Phil said, "and I need you to promise not to freak out."
The easy grin slid off Dan's face, "What is it?"
Phil held up his hands, "just wait here." Then he walked into the bathroom, turning on the bathtub's faucet. Stripping down, Phil lowered himself into the warm water. As soon as his legs were completely covered and he felt them changing back to their natural state, he called for Dan.
Dan knocked on the door- how much energy had that simple action taken him? - and called, "Phil? What's wrong?"
Phil glanced at his tail, its blue-grey scales looking dull in the poor bathroom lighting. Was he really going to tell Dan his deepest secret? Or rather, his second deepest secret.
"You can come in," Phil said, holding his breath.
The door opened slowly- why hadn't Phil realized how much energy this stupid plan would take Dan? - and Dan popped his head in. "Phil what's going on-"The words cut off as Dan took in Phil's appearance. "What the hell?"
Phil grinned weakly, "You're not the only supernatural thing in this flat," he said, gesturing toward his tail, which was hanging over the edge of the bathtub.
Dan looked like he was going to throw up, "you're part fish?"
Phil shrugged, "yeah, that's probably why I can see you, we both aren't human."
Dan let out a shaky breath, "Okay. You're part fish."
.
Dan takes the news surprisingly well. He asks Phil about his old life a lot, which Phil happily tells him about. In turn, Dan tells him about human customs like Christmas and Boxing Day and Halloween. It's nice to have someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't call him a freak or hermit when he didn't know who Santa Claus was.
Dan still hadn't touched him. Phil tried not to want him to.
It was raining, not an unusual occurrence, but still something that made Phil want to run outside and watch just because he can. But Dan hates the way it feels as the rain passes through him when he forgets to focus on actually getting wet, so they stayed inside.
"We should watch the Little Mermaid," Dan said with a smirk.
"I think we should watched Casper: the Friendly Ghost," Phil shot back, picking up the movie from the stack of ghost movies he had bought back before he knew who Dan was. They were his references on what to do.
"Fair enough," Dan said with a smile as he pulls the DVD out of its case. By the time the movie starts Dan is pale, his edges blurring more than normal, but he's smiling in triumph because a few weeks ago he could barely pick up the TV remote.
The credits roll and again Phil has to fight the urge to run his fingers through Dan's hair.
"Hey, Dan," Phil said, sitting up on one elbow, "What would happen if you tried to touch me?"
Dan turned around, his brown eyes meeting Phil's blue ones, "I don't know. You might go right through me."
"Can we try?" Phil asked, biting his lips, "I mean we don't have to if you don't want to, but…"
Dan took a deep breath, "No, I want to. I'm just scared. I don't want to try and you just go right through me."
"That won't happen," Phil said firmly, "I could never pass right through you."
Slowly Dan reached his hand out, resting it against the side of Phil's face. It felt weird, Dan's hand was solid, but cool, not warm like a normal human's.
"I can feel you," Phil whispered excitedly. Then Dan was leaning forward, pressing their lips together. Dan's lips were like his hand, solid and cool and like nothing Phil had ever felt before, it reminded Phil of the ocean, calm and cool, always changing.
.
Phil flopped onto his bed. Dan had kissed him. Dan had touched him. Had that actually just happened? After the kiss, Dan had been pale and blurry, even more transparent that usual, but he was okay. Phil had felt him.
Phil's eyelids fluttered, it had been too long since he had slept properly. He usually stayed awake with Dan, but Dan was in the guest bedroom, his bedroom, meditating or something to regain his strength, so Phil allowed himself to fall asleep.
He awoke to the soft piano music that he used to fall asleep to. Dan's soft piano music. Pushing off his duvet, Phil's soft footsteps seemed to echo through the flat as he walked to Dan's room.
Dan glanced up, his fingers pressing gently on the keys. "Hey," he whispered as the last of the music hung in the air.
"Hey," Phil said as he sat beside Dan on the piano bench, barely an inch between them. Phil wanted to put his arm around Dan's shoulder, but he knew that any physical affection would have to be initiated by Dan. So when Dan rested his head on Phil's shoulder, the room could have been illuminated the room.
"What does this make us?" Dan asked, turning to look up at Phil.
The word boyfriend lingered on Phil's tongue, but they had only kissed once and maybe Dan wouldn't be okay with that. So instead Dan turns his blue gaze to meet Dan's brown and means every word when he says, "the luckiest guys in the world."
Dan smiles, and reaches up to meet Phil's lips with his own. So even though the simple action leaves him pale and blurry, he agrees, "the luckiest guys in the world."