Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! I know this was posted AFTER the holiday, but still. I was busy fighting my way through Black Friday sales to upload. I hope you all had a nice dinner and whatnot.
Disclaimer- I still don't own any of this. This is why I'm poor.
What is dis? I don't know.
I think Matt's seeing ghosts or some shizz.
It was Matt's first night alone in the house. Mello was away, doing God knows what at this hour, so he'd resigned himself to drinking and playing World of Warcraft for the rest of night. He sat on the couch, only slightly tipsy, and furiously typed insults to other characters that didn't know how to play the Goddamn game, the fucktarded cockholes. He'd stayed on the couch for hours, moving only to take another drink of the awful vodka Mello kept lying around. They'd been living here for almost a week now, and the only things they'd unpacked were Mello's vast wardrobe and Matt's games. Everything else, picture frames, books, dishes-they were all tucked away in boxes stacked haphazardly in the hallway.
The television was mounted on a soda crate in front of the couch. Matt didn't watch much television, and Mello only followed the news, so they hadn't even bothered to hook the cable up yet. Not that Mello could; the cord was lost, tangled forever with the cords from Matt's video game systems. So there Matt sat, feet propped up in front of him on a box of something, completely absorbed in the game he was raging at. Mello had been gone for hours, not that Matt would notice if he returned. He was in his own world. Nothing could distract him from his raid.
Nothing except the chuckle that came from behind him. Matt's eyebrow raised slightly, but his gaze remained locked on the screen. "Hey Mells." He said. "Didn't know you were home."
He was then aware that he hadn't received a reply, and that Mello was still not home. He glanced around the living room confused before shrugging his shoulders and returning to his game. Minutes later, he heard another laugh- louder than before. He slid his laptop off his knees and stood, peering into the darkness of the kitchen.
"What the fuuuuck…." He murmured to himself, grabbing his handgun from the end table and turning the safety off. If some stupid son of a bitch even thought about trying to rob him and Mello, shit was going to go down. He flicked the lights on in the kitchen, hissing at the cockroaches that nonchalantly scurried across the floor as light flooded the room. "Guess you get what you pay for…" He muttered, smashing several roaches under his combat boots before he returned to the living room. He took another cautious look around the house before turning on the air conditioner, theorizing that the constant silence was making his ears distort the most subtle of noises. Now that he was confident that no one was in the house with him, he returned to his game.
He remained undisturbed for another half hour, the previous episode of paranoia completely forgotten until the television flicked on. He eyed the TV skeptically, checking the cushions of the couch for the remote. Maybe he was sitting on it, and a shift in his weight pressed a button? The cushions were free of the offending remote, and a brief scan around the room revealed it to be sitting on top of the television itself. He groaned. That was the trouble with these low-income housing places, the wiring was shit. A surge from his video games or something must have caused the TV to come on. He switched it off, refusing to be unsettled by it.
Then a low, feminine voice despairingly whispered "Maaaaattt….."
Matt tossed his laptop to the couch and charged out the door. It was time for a cigarette break, obviously. He stayed in front of the housing complex until Mello arrived, some 45 minutes later. When the blonde didn't entertain his stories of voices and fuckin' ghost TV, Mells, I swear to Christ, he gave up trying to explain his experiences and instead obliged Mello in his request that he shut up and go to sleep.
Mello left him alone again two nights later. Matt had been ill-at-ease ever since the incident with the television, especially at night time. He was disgusted at himself, in a way. He was a man of logic, a man of science. Supernatural beings and fuckin' ghost TVs didn't exist. This was some manipulation of his psyche by an external influence, and he was determined to find the source. But after two nights of uninterrupted gaming, he closed the case and decided maybe it was the alcohol that had caused it.
Now that Mello was gone again, his confidence had all but vanished. He had the feeling that he was being watched. That as he sat there on the couch, something evil was standing behind him doing nothing but staring at the back of his head, daring him to turn around and acknowledge its presence. Matt stubbornly refused to look back there, even if it was just to check, because he had no interest in seeing anything that might, hypothetically, because you can't rule anything out without proper scientific experimentation, be standing there.
The lights flickered. Matt cursed and hunkered down deeper into the cushions of the couch. He opened his phone and sent a text to Mello to distract himself. Focusing his overactive imagination on something else would make this entire nonsense stop. Mello didn't text back, of course. His phone was probably off. But for a few seconds, Matt was separated from whatever atmosphere was permeating the walls of this house. He clicked out of WOW and went to the internet, looking for something humorous to distract him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a humanoid shadow. Just standing there. Black and slender, unmoving. He didn't dare move his eyes to get a better view, just growled as the form vanished from view.
"So that's how it is then, eh?" He said aloud, opening another tab in his browser. "Alright, asshole. I don't know what you are, and I don't know what you want. I don't believe you exist."
The lights flickered again, more dramatically. Matt scowled. "But this is MY MOTHER FUCKING HOUSE NOW, got it?" He hit 'ctrl-L' and typed a single 'P', laughing maniacally as his most frequented pornographic website loaded. "It's my house." He asserted again. "And if you think you're gonna stand around in the shadows and watch me, then you bet your cuntslobbering ass I'm going to give you something to see."
It was hard to masturbate knowing he was performing for a figment of his imagination, but somehow Matt pulled through. The negative energy in the house dissipated, and all was calm again. Mello returned home later that night. Matt decided to brag about his unorthodox battle with a specter, much to Mello's utter disgust. Mello once again dismissed Matt's claims as the product of Matt's hyperactive imagination, and Matt begged him to find another place to live. It didn't work.
Weeks later, Mello lay in bed. He was hot, almost sweating. The quilts had been kicked to Matt's side of the bed, not that the redhead would notice; he slept like a log. Mello was exhausted- why couldn't he sleep? There was a certain hurriedness about him, like he was expecting something but didn't know what. He felt odd, out of place. Matt's claims of a haunting surfaced in his mind and Mello smirked. This was exactly what he'd been trying to explain to the boy. If you get excited and start convincing yourself that something frightening's happening, your mind will warp everything into another reason to be afraid. He was just uncomfortable, and already his own mind was hinting at supernatural foul play. The human mind was absolutely ridiculous sometimes.
The door to their bedroom slowly swung open. Mello could see it because the light in the hallway was turned on. Had Matt left that on? He couldn't recall. The door silently came to a stop just before the wall adjacent to it. Mello rolled his eyes; how convenient. He starts thinking about ghosts and the door opens? A little too Hollywood for his tastes. He rolled over, about to close his eyes, when he caught sight of a black form in the doorway. Just standing there, unmoving, long limbs and a vapor-like mist about his feet.
"Matt." Mello said. The shadow was gone from the doorway. Matt didn't answer.
"Matt!" He said again, shaking the other boy roughly.
"Uhnn.. fuck Mello, what?" The redhead protested.
"Wake up."
"It's fucking 2 AM. We went to bed like 2 hours ago."
"Get up, damnit!"
Matt sighed and rolled over, sitting up in the bed and turning on a lamp. "What is it?"
"Get dressed. We're moving."
Well, what'd you think? Review please!
