Everyone's probably thinking something like "oh no she's trying to write another chaptered fic when are you going to update Runs in the Family Luna you idiot you never even finished that one," but... no, have the first chapter of a ridiculous sappy Shinichi x ghost!Kaito fic because I am weak for ghost!aus.
Warnings include shounen-ai (though it's mainly preslash at this point), possible grammar mistakes / errors that I missed while skimming through this, smitten!Shinichi because we all need smitten!Shinichi in our lives, prankster-ghost!Kaito because reasons, etc. Titles (of the fic itself and the chapters) come from "Ghosts" by Saint Raymond because I couldn't think of any ghost-related titles and had to resort to ghost-related songs for inspiration.
Enjoy! - Luna
chapter one | living in a ghost town
Shoveling a fistful of rain-dampened hair out of his face, Shinichi exhaled, dropped his overstuffed suitcase beside him unceremoniously, and shivered in his pea coat. It was bitterly cold, especially for October, which only seemed to heighten the sense of foreboding Shinichi had been experiencing since he'd stepped onto the train earlier that morning. Fitting, he supposed, considering the circumstances.
Steeling himself, Shinichi lifted his gaze to study the looming, intimidating expanse of his childhood home, which, upon further inspection, looked more like the haunted mansion it was being touted as than the place he'd spent most of his early life. The ornate front gate was beginning to rust, the old oak tree in the front yard looked diseased, and, as the wind howled, the neat lines of windowpanes creaked ominously in their rotting frames. Combined with the drizzly, gray-skied weather, the place looked absolutely terrifying.
That might have explained why the last eighteen tenants had hurriedly moved out, citing "paranormal occurrences," "ghosts or vampires or some supernatural shit," and, most memorably, "the house is just goddamn creepy I'm leaving and I expect a refund I stayed there for three days you asshole" as reasons.
After the last tenant had moved out only three hours after moving in, shrieking at Shinichi over the phone until Shinichi had gotten a migraine and hung up on him, Shinichi decided something needed to be done. It was getting ridiculous. The obvious solution had been to tell the Osakan police force and Hattori that he was going to check up on his old house, pack everything into a single suitcase, and take the train back to Beika to investigate the matter himself.
But now… well, he wasn't sure what to think. He could certainly see why someone might think the place haunted, even if ghosts obviously didn't exist.
Shinichi sighed and trudged forward, pushing at the gate until it screeched open with a peal of rusted metal. Mentally wondering if there was any way he could oil it, Shinichi strode up the front walk, suitcase bumping along behind him, until he reached the front door.
He got the door unlocked fairly quickly, though it stuck in the doorjamb for a minute. Inside the house was dark and uninviting, smelling of mildew and dust. Shinichi wrinkled his nose as he fumbled for the light switch. The lights flickered for a long moment before turning on –
– only to reveal a pool of blood right in front of him.
Well, at least that was what Shinichi probably would've thought the liter of tomato juice poured over the entry area was if he wasn't a homicide detective who dealt with real blood on a regular basis.
Blank-faced and perplexed, Shinichi blinked down at the miniature lake of red. He didn't think the last tenant would have poured tomato juice all over the floor (even on the rug; that was going to be absolute hell to clean), even if he'd been angry at Shinichi for hanging up on him.
Skirting around the puddle as he tried to avoid getting his suitcase dirty, Shinichi headed towards the kitchen. It seemed clean enough, although the stove was covered in a thin film of dust and a few of the cupboard doors seemed to hang crooked. Deeming it relatively safe, Shinichi left his suitcase in one corner and stumbled back out into the hallway. Every step he took squeaked, making Shinichi frown. He didn't remember the floorboards being that creaky.
Humming tunelessly under his breath, Shinichi came to the end of the hall, where a familiar set of doors waited. He smiled, nostalgic. The library had always been his safe haven as a child; he'd practically grown up in those two antique armchairs, hands curled around mysteries and crime novels…
Still smiling to himself, Shinichi reached for the doorknob, pulling the door open –
– just in time for a grinning skeleton to come flying out of nowhere, lunging at him with inhuman speed.
Or, more accurately, just in time for Shinichi's father's old anatomical skeleton model to swing forward due to a complicated system of strings connected to the door handle and bang into Shinichi's face rather painfully.
"Ow." Shinichi shoved the skeleton out of the way, rubbing at where the bones had smacked hard against his cheekbones. Scowling, Shinichi batted at the plastic skeleton and shoved past it with burgeoning irritation. Why would someone rig the model like that? Surely that last tenant hadn't been that upset…?
As Shinichi stood in the doorway, he realized that the skeleton had been rigged in a way that should have forced whoever had rigged it to stay inside the room. The thought made Shinichi take pause as he scanned the library. While it was dim and unlit inside, the curtains drawn tight over the windows, he couldn't make out any human shapes.
Against his will, Shinichi was mildly impressed. Whoever had managed that trick without being in the room deserved some kind of praise. He set the thought aside for future perusal, electing to examine the library.
Everything appeared to be pristine, Shinichi discovered. He took a minute to walk the perimeter of the room, running his fingertips over the smooth, time-worn spines of the books. His fingers came away dusty, but that would be easy enough to remedy. Shinichi promised himself he would do some cleaning as soon as possible.
Pushing the skeleton out of the way as he exited the library, Shinichi returned to the kitchen, greeted by a floor and countertop as bare and empty as before he'd left. He was in the process of mindlessly swiping grime off the cold stovetop when he froze. Wait a second. Hadn't he left his suitcase in here?
Whirling around, Shinichi glanced frantically around the kitchen for his suitcase, but was only met with linoleum tiling and silence. A frown creased his brow. He'd been denying it, but there was definitely something going on here. But even so, it couldn't actually be ghosts, though. Right?
Overhead, there was a thud, like something heavy falling, and then an unhelpful whistling noise before an uncomfortable hush descended. Shinichi winced and raked a hair through his hair. Right. Definitely no such thing as ghosts.
By the time Shinichi was safely ensconced underneath a set of ancient sheets in his old bedroom, back pressed up against the wall, he had experienced the following events in addition to the tomato juice and skeleton scares:
1. The shower water turning bright red while Shinichi was shampooing his hair (he'd identified the color as a harmless food dye, but it had left a sticky, uncomfortable residue on his skin and hair)
2. The lights randomly going out at inopportune times, such as while Shinichi was shaving (he'd nicked himself, but that had been the extent of the damage)
3. The sound of high-pitched screaming coming from neighboring rooms (when Shinichi had gone to check, the rooms had been innocently empty)
4. The bathroom mirror inexplicably breaking while Shinichi was brushing his teeth, showering him with sharp bits of glass (somehow, Shinichi had managed to escape any disfiguring cuts, but cleaning up the glass had been tedious)
5. The lock on the bathroom door suddenly getting jammed, trapping Shinichi inside the bathroom until he'd managed to pick the lock with a bobby pin he'd found under the bathroom mat
6. The cleaning supplies being replaced by a strange concoction of pineapple juice and vodka, which Shinichi had discovered after he'd poured what he had thought was a gentle bleach solution all over the tomato juice-stained rug in the entry
As a result, when Shinichi finally fell into bed, wearing too-small pajama bottoms that he'd salvaged from his old wardrobe and no shirt because apparently his shoulders had gotten too broad to fit into any of his sixteen-year-old self's shirts, he was tired and in absolutely no mood for these pathetic attempts at scare tactics. Even if science somehow ceased to exist and there was a legitimate ghost haunting his house. He just didn't care anymore.
So at 2:03 a.m., when Shinichi woke to find his bed levitating several meters off the floor, his window thrown open so icy night wind and droplets of rain bombarded his face, he just buried his face in his pillow and groaned, long and heartfelt and annoyed.
"Okay, seriously?" he demanded once he'd stopped trying to smother himself and had gotten properly irritated. He hadn't asked to be haunted by some – okay, Shinichi would admit that "ghost" was becoming more and more probable, as illogical and impossible as it seemed. Considering his bed was hovering above the ground and all. "Can you leave me alone for one night? I came all the way out here from Osaka, leaving everything behind just to check up on my old childhood home, which by the way, everyone is claiming is haunted thanks to you, and I've had to deal with your stupid pranks all day and I just want to sleep. Is that not okay? Can you give me that much, or are you going to be an asshole about it?"
There was an awkward silence (one that Shinichi liked to think sounded embarrassed) before the bed slowly lowered back to the ground and the windows swung shut.
"Thank you," Shinichi growled before he pulled the duvet over his head and went back to sleep. He was going to have to deal with the ghost sooner or later, but for now he couldn't care less.
The feeling of sunlight beating down on him, scalding unapologetically through his eyelids in a blurry red haze, was enough to make Shinichi flinch, navigating a hand blindly out from underneath the comforter to shield his eyes. It was far too early for this. And why were the curtains even open?
After a few minutes, though, he sighed and dropped his hand, accepting the inevitable. There was nothing he could do now that he was awake. He might as well get up and start dealing with the whole ghost business, which he was not looking forward to. How was he even going to find the ghost, he wondered? If it even existed, that was.
Sighing under his breath, Shinichi rubbed at his temples, yawned widely, and opened his eyes to find himself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes.
Under any other circumstances, Shinichi would not have minded waking up to that particular set of eyes, especially when they were accompanied by razorblade cheekbones and pretty, well-defined lips and a mop of unruly brown hair. He might have even been flattered that someone that good-looking wanted to watch him while he slept.
All of that would have been probable (or at least more probable) had it not been for the fact that the face – not to mention the (remarkably fit) body attached to it – was almost entirely transparent.
Shinichi stared for a long, long moment, his brain desperately trying and failing to come up with some kind of plausible explanation (some kind of body paint? An invisibility cloak of some kind? Hallucinations? Death?), before he jerked backwards and smacked his head against the wall hard enough that the bed shook and the windows rattled.
Ignoring the pain that blossomed angrily at the back of his head, Shinichi gaped at the man with what was doubtless a very unattractive expression, but he couldn't exactly find it in himself to care. "Oh my God," he choked out, eventually.
The – the ghost actually looked abashed, lifting one translucent hand to scrub at the back of his head. "Um, hi," he mumbled, and oh God there was a ghost talking to Shinichi, what was he supposed to do. It was a legitimate ghost. Ghosts existed. Shinichi was having a bit of a crisis.
After a long, long moment of Shinichi questioning his entire existence, he managed to calm down enough to breathe properly. "You." Shinichi swallowed dryly. His heart was attempting to break his ribcage with how hard it was pounding. "You. Are a ghost. I think?" His voice went mortifyingly high on the last question.
"Quite right," the ghost agreed earnestly as he dropped his hand back to his side. "I'm the ghost who's been haunting your house."
Shinichi felt a headache coming on, possibly as a result of bashing his head against the wall (but more likely because he was sitting shirtless in bed talking to a devastatingly attractive ghost. His life was suffering).
Unsure of the proper etiquette when discussing the haunting of your childhood home with the ghost who had been doing the haunting, Shinichi had invited the ghost down into the kitchen for tea. It had been slightly awkward when Shinichi realized that the ghost couldn't exactly drink tea, but the ghost had been cordial enough to wait politely at the dining room table while Shinichi scuttled about and made tea for himself and mentally panicked.
"So," Shinichi said as he sat down across from the ghost, placing his mug by his elbow. "I, uh… I don't suppose you'd tell me about why you've been haunting my house?"
The ghost, bless his soul, actually looked contrite. Shinichi hadn't been aware that ghosts could be that expressive. (Well, he hadn't been aware of ghosts, period. But still.) "There's no real reason, to be honest. I just – I wanted a place to stay, and this place seemed like a good spot. It was empty for a long time, until people started moving in," the ghost began carefully.
Shinichi nodded – there had indeed been a period of time after he'd moved out and before his parents had decided to rent that the old mansion had sat empty and uninhabited. He understood why someone – or some ghost, rather – would decide to claim it for themselves. "Right."
"I was fine with living with the first tenants. They really weren't so bad," the ghost continued, twisting his hands in front of him in a show of regret. He paused to make deliberate eye contact with Shinichi, leaning forward conspiratorially. "But then."
When he didn't continue, Shinichi prompted, "But then what?" He was almost afraid to hear what was coming next, just because of how serious the ghost was acting.
Eyes narrowed, the ghost shook his head slowly. "But then they bought a giant fish tank, and I had to draw the line."
Of all the things Shinichi had been expecting, ranging from devious murder plots to irritating obsessions with badly-acted soap operas, that… was not one of them.
"A fish tank," he repeated, and the ghost nodded frantically, his eyes widening with what Shinichi assumed was fear. Or possibly insanity.
"It was floor to ceiling," he managed, positively horrified.
"Right." Shinichi idly questioned if he should seek psychiatric help. He wasn't sure if he himself needed it or if the ghost did.
"They had, like, a school of fish in there. No, wait. Two schools of fish," the ghost amended pensively.
"Moving on," Shinichi urged when it appeared the ghost was waiting for him to fully appreciate whatever greater meaning there evidently was in the purchase a fish tank and two schools of fish. The ghost nodded in agreement, folding his hands in his lap.
"So obviously I couldn't bear living in the same house as those people," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I did a few of the things I did to you to them – the tomato juice, the skeleton. You know. They were gone within the week."
"I can imagine why," Shinichi muttered dryly.
"The house was empty until more people moved in, but then I missed having the house to myself, so I scared them away with some more pranks. And then it turned into a vicious cycle of me scaring away all the tenants. You were the first person not to freak out, though. Even though I went a little too far with it." The ghost smiled apologetically, one side of his mouth pulling higher than the other.
(He really was pretty, Shinichi thought to himself, even if he was almost see-through in the sunlight. And wasn't that a thought. Shinichi was finding the ghost who had exploded a mirror in his face distractingly attractive. Less than ten minutes after he'd officially met him. Shinichi's life was a bad rom-com cliché.)
When Shinichi didn't respond immediately (too busy mourning the loss of his sanity), the ghost bit his bottom lip in a way that was probably supposed to be abashed and apologetic but just made Shinichi want to find an ice bath even more. "I'm sorry about all of the trouble I've caused you," he apologized softly and then sobered even further. "I can try to find a different house if you want."
The amount of disappointment in his eyes was so large that Shinichi felt discomfited as he blinked down at his now cold tea. "Well." He coughed, out of sorts, before he lifted his gaze to meet the ghost's. "I – I mean, as long as you don't break mirrors all over me, I don't…" He had to look away as his stomach did a flip and the ghost's eyes lit with wonder. "I don't mind if you stay, I guess."
He was both gratified and mortified by the excited, puppy-like sound the ghost made. It was possibly the cutest thing he'd ever heard, and it made him want to adopt a kitten together or propose with fireworks or buy matching Christmas sweaters or something.
Literally less than ten minute of knowing the ghost, and Shinichi was already planning a lifetime (deathtime? The ghost was dead, wasn't he?) with him. Shinichi wanted to either cry or fling himself off a freeway overpass during rush hour. He wondered what Hattori would say if he were here.
"Really? You'd actually let me stay?" the ghost was asking when Shinichi finally got himself under control.
"I mean, sure, why not?" Swallowing, Shinichi glanced across the table and was dazzled by the brightness behind the ghost's smile, which was not an experience he had ever thought he would have.
"Thank you," the ghost beamed before adding, "Oh, my name's Kuroba Kaito."
"I'm Kudou Shinichi," Shinichi returned, and downed his cup of tea instead of subjecting himself to the sunshine in the ghost's – Kaito's – smile. He had a strange feeling he'd either made the best decision ever or he'd just sentenced himself to a life of suffering. Only time would tell, he guessed, and sighed heavily.
This was originally going to be a depressing, angsty sort of "we can't be together because you're a ghost" sort of fic because of a few "you should write more angst" reviews I got on my last fic, but after a few paragraphs I just kind of went "...that's not working," and turned it into a rom-com because I AM THE EPITOME OF PATHETIC.
Anyway.
I have yet to write the next chapter, so we'll see when that gets posted. If you enjoyed this even a little or are interested in seeing more of it, please consider leaving me a review, and I'll see you all soon! - Luna
