Chapter 07
Tom let him and Andreas into the miniscule apartment, the old, heavy wooden door swinging open with a groan. The dreadlocked man wrinkled his nose in discomfort as he unzipped and peeled off his soggy, too-big hoody, carelessly tossing it in a wet heap on the floor. That's when he noticed the absence of the other clothes that had been on the floor since the day before yesterday. His caramel hued eyes drifted toward the perfectly made bed; he didn't remember doing that when he woke up. Unless…
No. Don't be ridiculous; ghosts don't do your laundry.
Tom kicked off his shoes and turned toward the blonde man standing behind him. They looked at each other in silence. The dread-head realized that he had been hanging out with Andreas almost the entire day, and could barely go ten minutes without being annoyed by the other man. Come to think of it, Tom was pretty sure that the only reason he invited Andreas over was that he'd feel like a horrible person if he had left his friend to walk halfway across the city in a blizzard. Tom thought he was starting to dislike the blonde, but couldn't really find a reason why. Sure, Andreas had been bitchy the last few days, constantly nagging him about something, but that didn't seem like a good enough reason to hate him. Maybe they just happened to be falling apart after eight years of friendship.
"Want a beer?" Tom shook the uncomfortable feeling and padded across the room toward the kitchen as the blonde man nodded in silence. The dread-head felt his insides twisting with anxiety. He hoped that Bill would have enough sense that he wouldn't do anything tonight. Tom almost snorted out loud. Yeah, right.
Tom yanked open the fridge door, grabbing two bottles of beer; a necessity, something that he always had to have on hand. He stood upright, the cold bottles practically numbing his already cold hands, and looked around the small area. Everything seemed quiet, much quieter than he was used too, much too normal. Maybe Bill had gone somewhere. The nineteen year old found himself wondering if Bill ever went anywhere, or just lurked around the rundown apartment building all day and night. For that matter, did ghosts even need sleep? More pointless questions began to form in his mind, and Tom exhaled, shutting his eyes momentarily. He was being a complete idiot again; not that that was a rare occurrence. The dreadlocked man shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling and walked back to the other room, making sure to shut the door behind him.
Sure enough, not seconds after he had left the kitchen area, Tom heard the familiar crash of shattering glass, and tried not to let the fear he felt become evident on his face. Andreas looked at him questioningly.
Tom handed the other man the bottles. "Hold on."
He crossed the room again and quickly let himself into the kitchen, making sure to latch the door securely behind him. Sure enough, Bill was visible and standing in the middle of the room, a sly smirk on his face and his arms folded across his chest. Shards of China from the plates Bill had caused to slide out of the cupboard were in a pile below the kitchen counter.
"Bill," the dread-head began in a hushed whisper, "please, don't. My friend already thinks I'm losing it; please don't do this. I'm begging you."
For the first time since Tom had moved in, Bill heard something other than anger and annoyance in the nineteen year olds voice. Right now, Bill seemed to only hear desperation and distress in Toms voice.
"Please?" Tom tried again, his voice miniscule and almost inaudible. For once, the ghost saw the weak side of Tom, and realized just how close he was coming to actually making the young man go insane.
Bill let his arms fall to his sides. "Alright," he said, defeated. "I won't do anything."
"Thank you," Tom sighed out in relief, "seriously, I-"
"But you owe me," Bill replied, a hint of a smile on his lips, before disappearing without a sound. Tom stared at the spot where Bill had previously stood for a few seconds before letting out a tiny groan, kneeling to carefully pick up the broken glass.
When Tom returned to the other room, Andreas didn't even look up at him. Tom sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing the beer from the end table and cracking it open.
"Sorry," he said, "The plates I left on the edge of the counter slid off."
"It's fine," the other man replied, and then they were both silent.
"So I'm going to Paris the day after tomorrow for the holidays," the blonde said. "I won't be back for two weeks." Tom couldn't think of anything meaningful to say, so just grunted in acknowledgement. He didn't notice the tiny frown that lingered on his friends lips for a split second.
Andreas turned to look out the window; the snowstorm outside had settled down a little since they had gotten back to Toms.
"It's not snowing too bad out anymore," Andreas pointed out. "I think I'll catch a cab home."
"Are you sure? It's still coming down pretty good out there."
"Yeah, I'm sure." Andreas slipped on his shoes that were placed by the door quickly. "So I'll call you or something when I get back from Paris."
"Alright," Tom answered. "Have fun."
"Uh huh." The blonde let himself out of the apartment without another word. Tom sighed as the room was enveloped in silence once again. Tom rubbed a tired hand over his eyes before changing into a pair of worn cotton sleep pants, flopping down heavily on the bed. He was suddenly overcome with tiredness, barely able to find the energy to slide under the covers. Finally, the dreadlocked man found enough strength to slip under the blankets.
Despite how tired he was, Tom didn't drift into sleep until sometime after three a.m.
He dreamt that Bill had locked him out of the apartment, and when he went to complain to the old woman downstairs, she told him to go live in the courtyard outside. Later, he froze to death in the snow, while Bill laughed at him from out the window.
***
Tom awoke around noon the next day, a bit confused when he felt a strange warmth on his face. His eyes flickered open and he squinted against the brilliant winter sun streaming through the window. He yawned, stretching his arms over his head, and tried to figure out what to do today. Pretty much everyone he knew had already gone away on vacation, or was spending time with family, and with no one to hang out with, Tom was insanely bored. He even had from now until the day after Christmas off of work, and had to admit, he missed it. At least it was something to occupy himself with during the day.
Tom practically rolled out of bed, dragging himself listlessly into the bathroom. He pulled his dreads back into a ponytail before stepping out of his clothes and into the shower, turning the hot water on and trying to keep his dreadlocks from getting wet; they were such a hassle to wash and took forever to dry. He shut his eyes for a few minutes, welcoming the relaxing spray of hot water.
Toms eyes snapped open when a sudden chain of thoughts crossed his mind. Bill could make himself invisible. Bill could be watching him. Bill could have watched in the shower before. Bill could have already seen him naked!
Oh, God, what if he's a pervert?!
Tom shuddered at the thought, feeling disgusted, and quickly jumped out of the shower, hastily wrapping a towel around himself. Cautiously, he padded out toward the dresser and pulled on the first outfit he got his hands on. He adjusted the elastic band holding his dreads, and decided to go hatless for the day; the first time since who knows when.
The nineteen year old entered the kitchen, snatching a package of Poptarts from the box on the table and tossing the silver wrapper in the garbage. Bill suddenly appeared next to him, and he jumped, dropping one of the breakfast pastries on the floor.
"Damnit!" he snapped. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry," Bill said quickly, not sounding the least bit sorry. Tom exhaled, beginning to grow more and more annoyed by every passing second. Stupid ghost.
He shoved the other Poptart into his mouth, throwing the one on the floor away.
"Are you going out?" Bill asked, drifting along side Tom as he walked toward the door.
"Yeah," the dreadlocked man replied, slipping on a pair of shoes. "There's nothing else to do, anyway." He looked over his shoulder at the ghost, who had a tiny smile on his lips.
"Remember how you owe me, since I didn't scare your friend away?"
Tom put his head in his hands and groaned in annoyance. "No."
Bill looked at him with a pout that Tom almost felt like he couldn't say no too. This was going to be one hell of a day.
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and sorry I've been lazy with the chapter titles hahaha. XD