The next day proceeds without much of a disturbance, other than the fact you wake up to a pair of bright blue eyes staring into yours. Naturally, this provokes a reaction consisting of a violent string of profanity and you hitting your head on the headboard.
As you had unconsciously expected, bro happens to be walking by. He pretty much defines sod's law by strolling into the room with his eyebrows visible high above the top of his shades. You put your own on and sit up.
"What's going on in here?" he inquires. He looks around with a slight smirk pulling his lips in the direction of his sideburns. "Did you have a nightmare, you little pussy?"
You anxiously look to your right, hating the idea of having to explain the blue tinged projection standing by the bed, but she's not there.
She's not there.
Panic hits at your heart like a drum beat, and you look around again, but your nerves are simply making your eyes less and less accurate.
You give up.
She's not here.
"What're you looking for?" Bro's voice is annoyingly condescending. He seems to have forgotten that today is the day you do not want to be bothered. Every year, you get the 17th September off school, which gives you time to sulk and lounge and basically be a useless pile of shit.
Or, in this case, search frantically for an apparently absent ghost.
You stop when you see bro's face. He's shallowly confused, loitering in the doorway. You decide to play it cool.
"What is it, little boss?" he asks again.
You grimace. You hate it when he calls you that.
"Nothing."
"I smell bullshit."
"That's not good. Get an air freshener."
Your panic wanes as you feel a need for natural brotherly banter. You'll find Terezi later; assuming that she is still here.
Bro takes one last look around and, with a dissatisfied grunt, leaves the room. You exhale and peel back the covers.
"That was close!"
The voice comes from behind you, a little to your right.
You flip your shit.
Terezi's there again, her smile crackling across her blue tinged face like a hyena, half bent over with her hands on her thighs. Her pose, her expression, everything, is patronising and humiliating. She's laughing at you, and you're frozen in place splayed against the wall.
Fuck you. It doesn't exit your lips but it's something to be found in copious amounts in your eyes.
Terezi is oblivious to this, and she punches your shoulder. You shiver at the contact- it's static and cold, like a nylon jumper in the arctic.
You groan a little at how bad that comparison was.
"Sorry, Dave. That was funny."
"Sorry, Dave, that was funny." you mimic. It's sickeningly immature but at least it makes you feel a little better.
Terezi, apparently, finds this and your general mood even funnier, but painstakingly refrains from laughing at you again. Must have been something to do with the venomous scowl you aimed at her.
Breakfast consists of chocolate milk and waffles. ("Waffles? Seriously?" "Fuck you, man. Waffles are ironic shit." "They're shaped like teddy bears, Dave." "Okay, that wasn't my choice.") You sit at the table, using the prongs of your fork to push a carefully cut square of batter around until you're convinced it's completely coated in syrup. You do this slowly, not raising your eyes from the plate. Bro- who is clad in an ironically unmanly pink 'kiss the cook' apron- doesn't want to bother you any more, and the most contact he has with you is when he plates up another waffle for you.
For a semi-famous puppet pornogropher, he's an alright guy.
You retreat to your room afterwards. Shafts of golden sunlight are filtering through your window. You take a moment to wonder how it could reach you past all the buildings.
You close the curtains.
Terezi's perched on the bed, hands on her knees. You haven't had the chance to speak to her properly, seeing as last night you got home and collapsed into bed so bro wouldn't question.
"Ghosts aren't real."
Her expression doesn't falter. You'd expect her to look at least a little bit hurt. You don't mean to insult her but all you want is at least a tiny bit of a reaction. All there is a knowing smile and silence. You're on the verge of waving your hand in front of her face, make her blink.
All you want is for her to hurt with you.
You don't want smiles and giggling. You want her to cry, you want her to get mad at you, you want her to tell you how fucking stupid you're being.
You'd even be happy if she left you, right now.
Because it would mean less confusion.
"You're not fucking real."
"What would it take to get you to believe otherwise, Dave?"
You think for a moment. Despite the sincereness in Terezi's cyan eyes, your trust still lingers on a knife's edge, a hair's breadth. The smile's more translucent, as if you're looking at it through a dirty window.
You nod to the blank space of wall just behind Terezi.
"Walk through it." You're convinced that this is a good idea. "Walk through that wall."
Terezi shakes her head. "You could be a little more creative than that."
She complies anyway. But for the fear of bumping into bro on the other side, you tell her to stick her hand through the wall with the window.
When she does it, there's no creepy ghostly ecto shit. No fraying on the wall surrounding her arm. It goes clean through. No blood, no tears.
On a whim, you stick your head out of the window. Sure enough, she's stretching her fingers on the other side.
"I'd hate to say I told you so."
You cringe at her tone. Okay, I lost. You were right.
But, you realise, the turn of your opinion wasn't all that bad. It would seem that you're not hurting as much anymore.
She's here to stay.