Chapter 04: A Being in the Other Room

Four days had passed since the strange disturbances.

For four days, all was quiet, and Tom was pretty sure that he had finally cracked and just imagined it all, and would be sitting in a padded cell somewhere in the very near future. Even Andreas was avoiding him; their conversations now seemed stressed and awkward. But Tom didn't really blame him - who wanted to be friends with a basket case that claimed a ghost was haunting his apartment, anyways?

The dreadlocked man slouched against the back of the couch, eyes unfocused and half closed, exhausted. Bored. Although the haunting occurrences had stopped, he still couldn't help feeling uneasy. He wanted to know what had happened here to drive all the people away. Tom shuddered, and decided that maybe it would be best if he didn't find that out.

He suddenly felt a tremor in his pocket, and with a frown, Tom thrust his hand into the huge, seemingly endless pockets to retrieve his cell phone. The small illuminated screen read 1 new message, and he flipped it open, accessing his inbox. A text from one of his other best friends, Georg.

Hey, wut r u doin?

Tom typed a quick reply, his fingers a blur across the small keypad. nthin, im so bored.

Com ovr 2 andys, he got sum weed frm his cousin. Few other ppl r comin l8er.

Alrite, c u guys in a bit. Tom couldn't help but let a small smile play across his lips. He rose from his previous position on the couch, snapping the phone closed and dumping it back in his pocket. He strode briskly to the door and exited the apartment, closing it with a slam that echoed through the empty building.

***

He stood directly in the center of the room, invisible. He watched Tom leave, and slowly began to fade into view, the air in the room growing steadily colder. He paced the room, not really walking, but gracefully gliding across the hardwood floor, letting a nearly inaudible sigh spill from his lips. He approached the window, peering out at the street below, and watched Tom jog across the four-lane highway. Some kind of emotion seemed to be gently gnawing at his cold, lifeless insides - what was it? Regret? Sympathy? After all, Tom was the first person to move into this place in years, and he knew he had scared the dreadlocked teen to the point where he had practically stopped eating and sleeping.

Sure, haunting people and scaring the shit out of them was amusing for awhile, but he always ended up doing it to a point where he drove them away. The ghost couldn't deny anymore that he was quite lonely. Being dead was just no fun.

He watched Tom turn around the corner of the street, disappearing amid the tall buildings, and sighed once again, fading back into invisibility.

***

Tom couldn't really remember the last time he had felt this content, like nothing would ever bother him again. He felt at peace, for once.

Tom didn't realize that he had been silent four nearly fifteen minutes, staring blankly into space, until he felt someone elbow him roughly in the side. He turned his blank stare upon Andreas, who was sitting Indian-style on the floor next to him. Tom blinked and looked around, slightly out of it.

"What?"

The blonde held up a joint delicately between his index finger and thumb. Tom willingly took it, placing it between his lips and inhaling. He held the smoke in his lungs before exhaling, feeling himself become more and more light-headed with each toke. Tom could faintly hear voices coming from the other room; the other people that had come over no doubt raiding the kitchen for snacks.

"So, hows your ghost doing?" Andreas asked with a breathy laugh. Tom punched the other man in the shoulder, hard, and laid back on the floor.

"Fuck off, you aren't funny," he snapped in a hoarse voice.

"I was kidding," the blond snapped back, rubbing his shoulder with a frown. "Don't be an asshole."

"Whatever." Tom heard a crash emit from the kitchen, followed by several high pitched giggles and Georg swearing angrily. "Better go see what they're doing to your poor kitchen."

Andreas dismissed the thought with a lazy flick of his hand. "Nah, it's fine."

A sudden silence hung over the two of them, and Tom coughed, feeling the need to somehow break it.

"I'm sorry for being a dick lately," the blonde finally said, shuffling awkwardly and looking away from Tom. The dreadlocked man shrugged carelessly. He felt so calm, like he didn't have a care in the world anymore. Like nothing mattered.

"That's fine, I'm sorry for being insane," he mumbled, glazed eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. Andreas turned to him and opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Georg, Gustav, and several girls whose names Tom couldn't remember, joining them once again.

One of the girls, a not so attractive red-head, sat next to him, way too close for comfort. He wondered where the hell Georg had found these losers. Tom made a sound of disapproval low in his throat as she began to babble nonsense to him, occasionally accentuating her pointless sentences by grasping onto his arm. He sat up, trying to wriggle away from her, and his eyes flickered toward the digital clock placed on the surface of the dresser. A quarter to midnight.

"I think I'd better get home," Tom said, trying not to let the desperation of wanting to leave show. "It's getting late."

"'It's getting late?' Jesus, Tom, you live by yourself, who the hell cares what time you get home," Georg said, frowning.

"Shut up," Tom retorted, pulling his body, that now felt feather light, up from the ground with a groan. "I'm tired. I'll see you guys later."

***

Tom exhaled softly, his warm breath turning to vapour as it hit the cool Autumn air, and zipped his sweater up higher, trying to shield himself from the cold wind that billowed playfully around him. He chanced a glance over his shoulder; he had the strange feeling that someone was following him, but their was no one there, save for a cat strolling lazily across the street, its tail held high.

Still feeling uneasy, Tom picked up his pace; the sooner he got home, the better. Or so he thought.

***

When Tom swung the door open, a gust of cold air hit him, and he froze. Again, he felt it, that strange feeling that something was terribly wrong. He approached the door to the living area and opened it slowly, eyes averted. His eyes finally traveled upward, and his jaw practically dropped at the site in front of him.

There was someone standing in front of the window.

At first Glance, Tom thought it was a woman, until he noticed the height, flat chest and lack of womanly curves. The strange male shook the curtain of ebony hair from his face, and looked up at Tom, a devilish little smile on his lips. And then Tom noticed that he seemed to be glowing. Emitting a faint, pale grey light.

The brunette shifted positions slightly, and Tom realized that he could see the glittering lights of the city behind him. Through him.

Oh, fuck.

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