Lance had woken up that morning feeling no different than the one before. Well, he hadn't really "woken up" more than come out of a strange session of serious zoning out.

He half opened the curtains, enough to let in light but not enough to cause any suspicion. And, he took up a place staring out of the window blankly, watching the cars race by, getting on with their lives. He didn't let his lip quiver for more than a couple seconds before turning.

He didn't know how long he'd stared out of the window. His sense of time had been dilated so terribly that days could pass like seconds and seconds could pass like days to him. He didn't know how long he'd been alone, how long he'd been isolated.

It could have been years, could have been months. All he knew was it was agonizing.

Sometimes he'd sit on the couch and listen to his neighbors to the right as she and her husband screamed at each other for this or that. Sometimes he'd listen to the sweet old lady to the left singing to her chubby cat. But they weren't always around, and often the days passed silently and slowly.

He'd be caught up in his mind so much he'd be surprised if he wouldn't be labeled clinically insane. But then again he had never done anything that could be thought of as crazy, he hadn't had far out thoughts that would scare him.

He just sat in a daze. There would be days where his mind would be full of ideas, and there'd be days where he couldn't work up the strength to think of anything. It all just passed in a slow, saddening haze.

He was startled out of his thoughts at the sound of a voice. Oh, was someone here to clean again? People came to clean sometimes. But someone had just come to clean a few days before. That sounded wrong. But then again it could have been longer than a few days. Lance had no idea.

Who was talking? There didn't seem to be any verbal responses from anyone else other than the one person. Was the guy talking to himself? Lance wouldn't be surprised at that, really. Honestly, he'd relate to him more than anything else.

Wait, there was another voice. Lance couldn't quite make out what was being said until the door opened. Was someone… taking a tour of the place? Oh, oh, there was a guy walking in.

He looked young. He looked angry. He looked bored. Lance took a few excited steps forward as the guy started walking around. Was there really a possibility of someone moving in after it's been vacant for so long? Lance briefly considered telling himself not to get too expectant, but he shoved that thought aside. It'd been too long since he'd felt this way. He didn't care about the fall afterwards at the moment.

He waited patiently as the man observed the apartment. Well, it wasn't actually patiently per se, more of jumping around and shoving a balled up hand to his wildly grinning lips. It wasn't until the assumed but never seen landlord shut the door and the man sat down that Lance crowded him. He stood, shoving his face up all close and personal, trying to get a proper read on the guy.

His face was very, very pretty, Lance concluded. But his fashion was less so.

"Is anyone else here?"

Wait, what? Was the guy talking to Lance? Or someone else? Lance was pretty sure there wasn't anyone else in the apartment- but then again he was kinda oblivious. But what should he do? He backed up worriedly, looking around.

"It must be lonely, having no one for two years."

Two years? Okay, two years. So it'd been that long since anyone had lived in the place. He looked to the ground, feeling suddenly a lot less elated. That's such a long time… he missed his friends, his family. He hadn't seen them in two years at least.

He blinked when the guy didn't say more and looked back at him. Was he expecting some sort of answer? Lance glanced around, his lips an anxious frown. There wasn't much he could do to show this man he was here. He couldn't talk- no one could hear him, there was nothing to move around and-

"I might move in. Would that make you happy? Or do you prefer no one lives here?"

He might move in? He might move in!? Lance could kiss the dude. He needed someone around for fear of his mental state. But he definitely was expecting a response now. Lance still didn't know how to give one. His game was a bit rusty. That, and, he wasn't thinking the clearest with all the energy bubbling up.

But then the guy was leaving. Wait, wait, no, no, no. Don't leave, Lance was still trying to figure it out. He rushed over to the guy, but just missed him as he slammed the door. Lance was more oblivious to what was going on than he thought. He'd sat and not noticed the man getting up and walking out for way too long.

He bit his lip, sucking in a breath he didn't need. Oh, no. Dammit, he should have done something! Should've touched the guy's arm, grabbed his bag, opened a door! Why the fuck are all these ideas coming about now!?

He slipped his hands in his short hair and pulled in despair. This was it, he was gonna be alone forever and ever and ever and he was gonna go crazy and be one of those scary ghosts because he couldn't get a grip on reality and was just so isolated. He didn't want to be a scary ghost!

He sunk to the floor, eyes watering. And now that guy, his only hope- do not even consider thinking of a Star Wars reference in the midst of this mess, Lance- had just walked out. And he probably wasn't gonna come back. Wait, why wouldn't he come back?

Hold up, Lance. Calm down. Why's this got you so worked up in the first place? Don't people normally not want a ghost to be in the place they're living in? So the fact that that guy didn't get any ghost shit means that he'll probably actually be more likely to take the place! See, Lance, quit being so overdramatic.

But if that was right that meant Lance was gonna have to be careful if he wanted him to stay. He couldn't let the guy know he was there at all, even accidentally. He didn't want him leaving like the last couple people had… that would just be too much of a let down. This is probably his only chance to have a companion in the foreseeable future. And he didn't want to lose that.