Hey, everyone. So, like my last fic, this one was partially inspired by something a friend said. One day while we were talking, she mentioned that she thought Jonathan would get jealous if Sock left to haunt someone else. I agreed and asked if she would mind my using it as a fic. When she said she didn't, I wrote the idea down and kind of forgot about it. Then, while listening to an audio book about the psychology of serial killers, I began to wonder what would cause someone to murder their parents in their sleep. This turned into my wondering whether Sock had any deep psychological issues, and this fic was born. Before I end this author's note, I must list a few warnings. First, this fic does mention suicide and will most likely discuss the issue in depth in later chapters. Psychological issues will also be discussed. Finally, Sock and Jonathan are going to probably end up together because I think it's cute. So, if any of this upsets you in anyway, please don't read this fic. I'm sorry for the long note, but I felt like things needed to be explained, and those warnings really needed to be said. Without further ado, please enjoy House of Memories!

Sock had been acting oddly over the past week. Rather than pestering Jonathan spontaneously at school, causing a wide array of embarrassing situations, and following the blonde around, Sock had been floating around Jonathan's house, subdued. He had been paying little attention to Jonathan and seemed to be constantly lost in thought. Whenever Jonathan talked to Sock or asked the little ghost a question, Sock would startle and gaze at the other boy as if he didn't know him. Though he would never admit it to anyone, especially Sock, it was starting to get on Jonathan's nerves.

Jonathan flopped onto his bed after tossing his book bag to the side, letting out a large sigh as these thoughts circled through his mind. What could possibly be bothering Sock? It's not like he had many pressing responsibilities, being a spirit and all. Maybe he was in trouble with Mephistopheles? It had been over a year since Sock had been assigned to Jonathan, and he hadn't yet convinced the high schooler to end his life. Mephistopheles may have become impatient and snapped at or threatened Sock. Jonathan nodded slowly; this would make sense of the little spirit's recent mopey behavior. Even though Jonathan was certain Sock had some sort of mental disorder, he had also noticed that Sock didn't like to be reprimanded. After thinking this over, Jonathan crossed it off as a possibility. Although Sock did not like to be snapped at, he usually bounced back quickly. This meant something else was troubling him.

"And if there is?" Jonathan asked of no one in particular. "Why should I care? He's a major pest, and he wants me to kill myself!" Steeling himself with this logic, Jonathan stood and shuffled into the kitchen.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, Jonathan knew it had been a good idea to at least attempt to steel himself. Sock was floating above the table, eyes glazed and full of tears. Jonathan sighed; he hated it when Sock cried, though it was not a regular occurrence. If Sock was crying, it meant something serious was going on.

"Hey, Sock." Jonathan murmured, knowing he couldn't avoid whatever emotional turmoil Sock was going through for much longer.

Sock, as usual, startled and looked at Jonathan. After recognizing the other boy, the little spirit quickly rubbed at his eyes with a small fist. "H-Hi, Jon."

Jonathan sighed and walked over to the table, grabbing Sock's hands and tugging him closer. "Sock, cut the crap. What's wrong?"

Sock held onto Jon's hands, still not quite used to the sensation. Though he had only been dead for a year, he had long forgotten what it had been like to physically touch another human being. About a month or so ago, he and Jonathan had discovered that, if either one of them wished to, they could touch the other. Being able to touch someone else, even if it was someone that he secretly feared hated his guts, made Sock happy, despite the oddness of the situation. He looked down, allowing his massive bangs to fall into his eyes. "It's…. hard to explain."

"Try." Jonathan urged, squeezing Sock's hands. He wasn't often affectionate toward anyone, including his parents, but Sock was different for some reason.

Sock squirmed, subconsciously tightening his grip on Jonathan's hands. "I've been having nightmares."

"Nightmares? I thought you didn't sleep?" Jonathan asked, confused.

"I don't think I do? Maybe they're flashbacks! I don't know!" Sock replied, clearly upset.

"Hey, hey! It's okay." Jon hurried to reassure the smaller boy. "Can you describe the flashbacks or whatever the hell they are?"

Calming down, Sock nodded and lowered his body until he was just hovering above the table. "Well, a couple months after I died, I began to forget about my past life. It started out with small stuff, like where I went to school or what ice cream tasted like. Then, as the months went on, I began to forget more and more. By the time I met you, I had forgotten almost everything. Then, about a month or so ago, I started having, like, visions."

"The flashbacks?" Jonathan asked softly, reluctant to interrupt. However, he wanted to make sure he understood what was going on.

Sock nodded. "Yeah. I didn't think much of them at first. I thought they might be memories from when I was alive, but I figured that it happened to all spirits. It was just part of being dead. Then they became more intense." Sock looked up, green eyes searching Jon's blue ones for a reaction.

Jonathan considered what he'd just learned before responding. "Is this what's been bothering you?"

Sock quickly looked away, but Jonathan caught a glimpse of the fear in the little spirit's eyes. "Um…yeah."

When Sock didn't offer up more information, Jonathan pressed the matter further. "Well, why's that? If they're only memories, they shouldn't be too upsetting." He raised an eyebrow. "Unless your life was shitty?"

Sock flinched, and Jon knew he had hit a nerve. He waited patiently, still holding the spirit's hands. Eventually, Sock looked back up and Jonathan saw that he was crying again. "I don't think my life was supposed to be shitty! From what I can remember, I had a pretty decent life, even if my parents were never around. It's not like I was abused or anything." He sniffled and let go of Jonathan's hands. He had clearly said more than he'd intended to.

Jon bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. On one hand, he wanted to know what was so bad about remembering one's past life, but he also understood that Sock wasn't one to overreact often. So, for whatever reason, regaining his memories was sending Sock down a spiral of depression.

"So, what is it about your memories that are bothering you so much if your life wasn't exactly shitty?" Jonathan questioned, crossing his arms as he returned to his usual moody self. Though he had rationalized that something serious must be wrong with Sock, he couldn't help his impatience. His life wasn't exactly great, and here was this little idiot of a ghost who was suddenly complaining about his problems, or lack thereof.

Sock flinched; he had already feared Jon's reaction, especially since he hadn't been able determine the blonde's feelings regarding his confession. Jonathan snapping at him had been at the forefront of his worries. He floated backwards until he was on the other side of the table. "Nothing's bothering me. I guess I just overreacted to a regular part of being dead."

This blatant lie seemed to annoy Jonathan further. "Now you're gonna lie to me?"

Sock narrowed his eyes as a bright red aura began to form around his body. "What do you care if I lie or not? You've never liked me anyway! You don't think I don't know you wish I would go away?"

It was Jon's turn to flinch. His arms fell to his sides as Sock's words sunk in. "Sock, I didn't mean it like that-"

Sock was no longer in the mood to confide into who he thought had been his only friend. "Forget it, Jonathan." The blond flinched again. It had been months since Sock had called him anything but "Jon". Before he could attempt another apology, Sock had disappeared.

Jonathan groaned; that had not at all gone to plan. He hadn't intended to run into Sock in the kitchen, but he had also expected it as a definite possibility. So, he had decided he would attempt to get to the root of Sock's problems if he did run into the little ghost. Instead, he had allowed his emotions to get the better of him and had chased Sock off to God knows where. He sighed, trying to find relief in the fact that Sock would have to return at some point. It was his job, after all.

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Sock didn't come back, though. For the first couple of days, Jonathan tried not to let this bother him. Sock was upset, after all. It would make sense for him to stay away for a couple of days. However, as the days turned into weeks, Jonathan's worry grew. He had no choice but to admit that Sock might not be coming back. This upset him more than he cared to admit, and he found himself looking for Sock in his favorite hiding places. The little spirit had to come back at some point; it's not like Mephistopheles would let Sock abandon his post for much longer. Right?

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Little did Jonathan know, Mephistopheles would let Sock abandon his post for months on end if he were offered a deal. After all, the Devil does enjoy making deals.

After his fight with Jon, Sock had headed straight for hell, determined to get a new assignment. After all, anyone had to be better than that jerk. He wouldn't let his emotions take over this time. He would get the job done and then move onto the next assignment, just like Mephistopheles had originally intended.

When Sock burst into the Devil's office, still radiating a red aura, the fallen angel in question was frantically digging through his filing cabinets.

"Where is it? Where is it?" He muttered, tossing manila envelopes to the floor.

Curiosity began to win over Sock's rage. He floated over, tilting his head and making the flaps of his hat twitch. "Where's what?"

Mephistopheles whirled around, clutching a manila envelope. There was a maniac gleam in his eyes. "This!"

"Uh…that doesn't really answer any questions, Mephistopheles. Why were you so determined to find that particular file?"

The gleam in Mephistopheles eyes began to dim as he realized who he was speaking with. When Sock had arrived, he had noticed someone entering the room, but he had been so enraptured with the task at hand, so he had assumed it was some lower-level demon looking for yet another favor. He certainly wasn't expecting to see Napoleon Maxwell Sowachowski in his office today. He hid the file behind his back and gave Sock a charming smile.

"It's of no importance! I was just attempting to solve an issue with the sixth level of Hell."

Sock raised an eyebrow, noticing that the Devil's smile hadn't quite reached his eyes. However, he knew better than to press the matter. Mephistopheles had already punished him twice this year. He wasn't eager for a repeat of that treatment. "All right, then."

Relieved, Mephistopheles set the file aside and turned back to Sock. "So, Mr. Sowachowski, what can I do for you on this hellish day?"

Sock rolled his eyes. "Hellish is exactly how I would describe my day. I came to propose a deal, Mephistopheles."

The gleam returned to the Devil's eyes. "A deal? Do continue."

"If you cancel my current assignment, I will do whatever task you think is fitting. I'll force kids to kill themselves with my evil powers. I'll torture sinners. I'll be your personal secretary. Just don't make me go back to Jonathan."

Mephistopheles raised an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?" Sock looked away in response, bangs falling into his eyes as he clenched his teeth. Mephistopheles decided to return the favor and not press the matter. "All right. It seems like we have ourselves a proposal. In return for my cancelling your current assignment, you'll do whatever I please?" Sock nodded, and the Devil grinned. He did enjoy making a deal. "It is done. Report back to my office tomorrow for your new assignment."

Sock let out a sigh of relief and nodded before floating out of the office. He had gotten his wish. He frowned, stopping outside the doorway to the seventh level of Hell. If he had gotten what he wanted, why did he feel like crying his heart out?

All right, that's chapter one. I'm honestly not sure about the uploading schedule because I'm working on moving and getting ready for college. I do hope you guys enjoyed this fic, though. Please feel free to leave any suggestions and reviews. I appreciative constructive criticism. I love you, guys. XOXOXO