Previous warnings apply.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Matthew hesitated, hand poised to turn the key to his apartment. Maybe it was a little irrational, he allowed, that he wasn't even in his apartment but he was still scared. The ghost—and those words still elicited a shudder—didn't seem to be evil.
Of course, Arthur (and Francis and Gilbert and Willem and even Katyusha and Miguel) always told him he was too trusting so it was still possible that he could wake up one night to find himself at the mercy of an invisible psychotic ghost.
Matthew blanched, withdrawing his hand, goose bumps on his arms.
He had stayed as long as possible at Arthur's, going so far as to clean out the other's fridge and restock it with enough cooked meals (just because Arthur couldn't cook, didn't mean Matthew was the same) for the next few days (each piece of Tupperware was neatly labeled). Then he had vacuumed and dusted before taking a nap.
If he didn't have class the next day, he'd definitely just stay with Arthur again for the night. But his books were in his room.
With the ghost.
He shuddered again, before taking a deep breath and shaking his head roughly. "No, no. Be strong, Matt. You can do this. You're a goalie. You're badass." Clinging tightly to the bravery he dredged up, the young man quickly unlocked his door and burst in with a determined look on his face.
Everything was as he left it.
Deflating somewhat (secretly he expected something a little more supernatural to have happened, but maybe he should be grateful?), Matthew sighed in relief and shut the door, toeing off his sneakers. Placing his things on the table, the blond headed towards the kitchen, intent on checking out the entire room.
Coming into the doorway of the kitchen, Matthew came to a halt, violet eyes wide.
Egg was splattered on the tiled floor and the walls and appliances and counters were covered with flour and milk. A bag of sugar was tipped over, its contents tinkling over the counter and onto the floor.
He definitely did not leave his kitchen like this.
Matthew stepped forward into the mess, face disbelieving, as he maneuvered around the mess on the floor.
Oh hell no. The blond just looked around helplessly, disbelief and shock slowly replaced by rage. Hands clenching into fists and anger coursing through his body, Matthew whirled around and shouted, "Ghost, get your ectoplasmic ass out here now!"
At that moment, it didn't matter that he was summoning a spirit that he barely knew, that could probably hurt him more than he could hurt it. It didn't matter that their last meeting ended with him fainting. It didn't matter that he was still terrified of it.
The ghost had dropped his bottle of maple syrup and now the brown syrup was oozing onto the tile into a sticky, sugary puddle on the floor. Maple syrup on the floor.
Blasphemy.
"I know you're around here somewhere, hoser." Matthew snapped, violet eyes absolutely furious. "And I will exorcise your ass if you don't—"
"Um, hi."
Looking over, Matthew caught sight of a figure, its outline only barely visible, shimmering under the harsh fluorescent lights. Next to him sat a lopsided cake, somewhat flat and burnt.
"I was trying to bake this cake…" The ghost said sheepishly and Matthew could barely make out an apologetic grin. "But I'm not that awesome at controlling my being yet, so I kinda made a mess."
"Kinda?" Matthew repeated, faintly. "Kinda?"
"Okay, I made a huge mess." The ghost muttered. "But at least I didn't burn anything down."
Good point.
"I just wanted to apologize for scaring you yesterday." The ghost continued, shifting slightly.
Matthew, swallowing his nervousness, stepped forward to get a better look at the cake.
Written in syrup, the messy script read "Sorry" and Matthew felt some of his fury disapitate when he felt the earnest gaze of the ghost on him.
Sighing, Matthew just said, "You're going to help me clean up."
Instantly the ghost seemed to brighten and now Matthew could make out a pair of eyes and a wide smile. "Sure thing dude!"
The cake was only slightly more appetizing than it looked, but Matthew had eaten worse. Much worse.
Picking out some of the more charred pieces, Matthew listened to the ghost babble on about the whole cake-making process.
"And the eggs kept slipping out of my hand but at least I managed to pour the milk before I dropped the carton. And the bag of flour dropped on my head—except, you know, it went through me and exploded—but I did salvage enough."
Matthew paused and put down the piece of cake he was about to eat. "I'm sorry, it went through you?"
"Yeah, so if it tastes weird, it might be because of that. But at least the burnt taste overpowers the taste of me." He laughed. "I forgot about the cake because the neighbors were watching Die Hard and I just love that movie."
The two fell into an easy silence.
But it didn't last long.
"Um, so, dude." The ghost began, leaning forward, a nervous edge to his words. "Please don't move out. It gets kind of lonely and boring and no one else seems to watch soap operas and I'm behind on my stories and you seem pretty chill so I'd like it if you would stay."
Matthew just looked at the ghost. "Um, well—"
"Pretty please with a cherry on top and sprinkles and hot fudge and pineapple and almonds and chocolate chips!" The ghost begged, his form solidifying enough that Matthew could make out his features.
"Look, ghost—"
"Alfred." The ghost interrupted cheerfully. "Remember? I introduced myself but you fainted." Noticing the frown on Matthew's face, he laughed quickly and in defense, said, "Not that I would've reacted differently. Ahahaahahaaha~" He continued to laugh awkwardly until the teen looked away.
"Okay, then. Alfred." Matthew rolled his eyes. "No offense, but I wasn't exactly expecting a roommate."
"Aw, c'mon! I'll be the best roommate ever. I won't wrack up the electricity or water bill. I won't come home drunk or throw loud parties." He paused. "Though if you want to do that, that's cool too."
Matthew bit his lip in thought, studying the vaguely visible phantom before him.
Alfred sighed, somewhat frustrated. "Look, its either we live together or you move out. I can't leave this building and even if I go somewhere else, I always end up back here." He threw his hands out hopelessly. "I'm stuck."
When Matthew gave him a pitying look, Alfred was torn between telling him to knock it off and playing on the other's emotions.
But he did neither.
"It'll be fun. And, worst comes to worst, you can just call the Ghostbusters."
Matthew sighed, blowing away the strands of hair that had fallen in his face. "I suppose I could give it a shot. I've already signed the lease, after all."
"Whoo!" Alfred shouted gleefully, before yelping as he slid through the chair and then floor.
Matthew just stared at the spot where his new roommate once sat, somewhat in shock. "Maple." He groaned. "What have I gotten myself into?"
"So does that happen often?" Matthew asked casually the next morning, pouring a glass of milk for himself.
"Too often." Alfred muttered. The ghost was sitting on the counter, watching enviously as Matthew polished off the glass of milk and three pieces of toast slathered in jam.
Matthew noticed that the spirit's attention had been diverted to his food and, kicking himself for being rude, he tentatively asked, "You…can't eat, can you?"
"Nope." Alfred replied, a wistful tone to his voice. Seeing the guilt on his new roomie's face, he was quick to reassure the human. "But its cool dude! It's like a diet. I've always needed to go on one of those."
Matthew looked a little unsure, but shrugged. "I'll be back around 4." He said. "You can watch TV if you'd like."
"Could you put it on some soap operas please?"
"Can't you work the remote?" Matthew gave him a weird look. "You baked a cake after all."
Alfred sighed, as though Matthew had just said something incredibly stupid. "I can, but if I do it messes with the reception. I can't really work electronics." He admitted sulkily. "Which really sucks, y'know? I was awesome at that shit."
Matthew just smiled and for the rest of the day, Alfred lounged on the couch, finally catching up on his stories.
Juanita died before she could choose between Miguel and Alejandro. And Esmerelda finally found her father. It turned out to be the man who drunkenly took advantage of her weeks ago.
When Matthew returned, the apartment was freezing and Alfred was sobbing openly on the couch.
"For the love of Gretzky, Alfred." Matthew swore. "What's wrong?"
"Fernando is a monster." The ghost wailed. "He just walked out on Isabella with some cheap whore. She was carrying his baby."
Matthew stared at the ghost before shaking his head and walking to his room. "Yeah, okay. I'm going to go to some homework."
He wasn't sure if Alfred heard him, since the ghost was too busy screaming calling someone a home wrecker.
"How're you liking the new apartment, Matt?" The Cuban student asked, taking a drag from his cigar, smoke trickling out of his mouth as he exhaled softly.
"Its pretty nice." The blond said. "A little…different from how I imagined…" He mumbled, thinking of Alfred who was singing Fergie that morning, loudly and off-key.
"Do you need help unpacking?" Katyusha asked sweetly, taking a seat next to the blond with multiple boings.
"That's alright." Matthew said cheerfully, trying very hard not to let his gaze wander below his friend's neck.
He was a little afraid of how Alfred would react if Katyusha came by.
He'd probably make it freezing on purpose.
(Though, let's be honest, Matthew would not be opposed to the end result.)
"House-warming party?" Gilbert asked without preamble, leaning over Matthew and balancing his elbows on the other's shoulders. "I'll bring the booze if you promise to make beercakes."
"I am not destroying the sanctity of pancakes with cheap beer." Matthew snapped. "Its bad enough that Willem figured out how to make pot pancakes."
"Those were awesome." The silver-haired man argued, sliding his arms around Matthew's neck.
"…Gilbert."
"Too close?"
"Yeah."
After a week, Matthew and Alfred fell into an easy pattern. Matthew would wake up and leave the television on Alfred's favorite channel before hurrying to class. Alfred would spend a few hours watching soaps before floating around the building, playing small pranks on the other tenants. Then he would come back to his…Matt's…their apartment and tidy up a little bit while looking through Matt's stuff.
When Matthew came home, he'd usually study. Alfred would hover over his shoulder, usually call the Canadian a nerd and try to get him to come watch cartoons. Then he'd somber up and help out Matt with his homework (economics and physics being his best subjects).
Then Matthew would usually have dinner, Alfred floating nearby with a pout. Sometimes the blond would give in and let Alfred have a bite (even though it was kind of weird to see the food travel down the ghost's body before landing on the floor but the spirit always seemed to be happier afterwards, so it was okay). Then the two of them would either watch TV or Matthew would head out to hang with his friends.
"Can I meet your friends?"
"I don't think that's a good idea." Matthew admitted. "You'll probably scare them."
Alfred just grinned.
"And that's the reason you want to meet them, of course." The human rolled his eyes, half-heartedly swatting at the ghost.
All in all, it wasn't so bad. Matthew didn't ask Alfred why he had yet to move on and Alfred tried not to sneak up on his roommate too often.
Though it was still hilarious to see Matthew seize up and shriek.
Sorry for the long wait. I've been struggling with writer's block with most of my stories, so thats why its mostly been new things. But I did the poll and it seemed most people who voted wanted this to be updated. Thanks to everyone waiting, I hope this chapter was satisfactory!
Some things to mention, though. Alfred is stuck to the building. He can't leave it. He will always get pulled back to his specific apartment. He can't work electrical things like TVs and radios and computers (the stove was not electric). He also can't move on to the afterlife.
He and Matthew have never met before. Matthew didn't know the name of Arthur's friend. Alfred only vaguely knew Arthur had a brother. Arthur didn't know where Alfred lived because it is still a sore spot that Alfred moved out. Their relationship improved, but they weren't as close (though they were getting better).
If you paid attention to the last chapter, you might be able to pick up a pretty important detail in this story.
I am making things up as I go along because researching failed miserably. Even Wikipedia. I couldn't sleep for a few days. -shudders- I hate ghosts...