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Money is scarce and tight at the moment, and the only affordable place he could find is a cheap, run down flat in a shabby building. It looks like shit, yet the place doesn’t smell like shit. The male takes off his cap and rubs the back of his neck, ruffling the sparse dark brown strands of hair, as he inspects his room’s door.
It’s kinda pristine. He then looks aroud the vacant balcony.
His shoulders then sag as he takes out his key. Amber eyes squint at the small metal in his palm, and he releases a sigh.
It’s a win for the most part.
A click and turn of the doorknob echoes throughout the quiet apartment, and he steps in. The place is okay for the most part. He takes off his shoes and walks down the short, narrow hallway.
One main room, a closet, a window, and a bathroom. It’s not special and is definitely suited for only one person to vacate. He turns around back towards the door and rolls out his shoulder.
Alright, time to actually move in.
He’s strong, so the boxes aren’t a sweat at all. Most of the boxes are set down in the main room for the most part until he opens all of them. He sets down the last one for now on the tatami and nearly drops it on his foot. He curses to himself and sighs gratefully.
The last thing he needs is to limp around while looking for another job. The male scratches his arm and yawns as he sits down next to one of the boxes. He drowsily nods off for a moment.
His head bobs, and it threatens to knock on one of the boxes. His eyes are half-lid as the weight of his head somehow increases.
He does not needs another scar on his face.
He shakes off the drowsiness, and he sits there staring blankly in silence for a moment.
A noise is heard from the closet.
A louder thump is heard, and it finally catches his attention unfortunately. The tired male springs to his feet startled and slamss his foot on one of the harder boxes.
A low curse leaves his lips as he rubs his foot and looks towards the closet. Nothing special should be in there besides the futon and an attic. And dust.
The male already rubs his nose at the thought of it.
Attic… an attic.
The noise makes sense now. He grumbles to himself as he trudges over to the door and aggressively slides it open. The space looks normal and empty… and dusty. The annoyed male then looks up.
He’s met with a piercing, soulless gaze from a blue-tinted person. With a complexion like that, you look long dead, especially with the lack of shine in your eyes. The darkness shields most of your face and body, but not that intense look in your eyes.
It’s too intense. A bit suffocating, yet ignorable.
His guard immediately switches on, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.
Of course. Of course. No wonder the place is cheap as shit. It’s haunted.
There’s a clear trace of fear in his heart as he holds himself back from running out the room screaming bloody murder, yet he reluctantly stays. A small peak of adrenaline keeping him in his annoyed stance. It slowly shoots up as the male crosses his arms.
His amber eyes turn a piercing, dark brown. Maybe even black as he glowers.
You flinch at his gaze and attempt to turn around and retreat more into the attic.
“Oi!”
A breathless noise leaves your lips as your ankle is caught. The male’s calloused hand squeezes your leg in an iron grip, and you whimper quietly. You immediately look down over your shoulder, and your eyes widen.
It’s as if a mist of bloodlust leaks from the spikey haired male as his eyes grow darker the longer he gazes at your frightened form. His scarred face makes his intimidating scowl worse.
He stands on his tiptoes as he tugs your leg into the outing of the closet. He opens his mouth, and a flash of comparison to a crazed animal strikes your chest.
His teeth are sharp as he opens his mouth to speak.
“Don’t just stay there! Come the hell out… we need to go over rules.”
He honestly just said jack shit. Anything to mask the fear of seeing an actual apparition.
Your fear diminishes, and you tilt your head down at him confused.
Rules?
His grip softens a bit, but the tugging doesn’t stop. A quiet noise leaves your mouth as he finally manages to force you out of the attic. You fall down into his arms.
He wordlessly walks over to a random spot in the room and sits under the window. He gently places you beside him first.
You both then look at each other quietly.
He gulps and looks away. His adrenaline immediately shot through the roof when he saw you, but now fades in this moment of awkwardness.
Beads of nervousness travel down his forehead, and he exhales a shaky breath.
Are you really a ghost…? He’s able to touch you but… you look dead. Extremely dead. There’s blue tinted all around you, and he’s able to see some of your veins where he shouldn’t.
His eyes flicker towards your quiet form, and he stares at your face.
Your eyes are something else. Something errie… yet welcoming. Two big balls of soullessness that reflect his confused face.
Maybe you’re harmless?
The male takes off his cap, and a calloused palm shakily runs through his spiked mess of a mane. The male grumbles to himself again.
It’s too late to put you back where you came from, and he already said some excuse about rules.
You two are indirectly roommates, so the excuse holds a bit of truth. You were here first though… So is he the one intruding or…?
It’s whatever at this point.
He sighs loudly and rubs his face. The abrupt action produces you to flinch and stare at him warily. Sugimoto notices the movement in the corner of his eyes and takes the time to soak your appearance in fullness.
You wear basic clothing, your hair is an unusual length, and you’re quiet… and you have an unusual expression.
He doesn’t know how to describe it.
You clearly have dark circles and a complexion the deceased would have, yet you also look like a traumatized cat.
At least you look cute.
He finally speaks again and points to himself. The wariness on his face is present. “Sugimoto. I’m Sugimoto.”
Silence.
He sighs as you blink at him quietly with your weirdly intense gaze that’s somehow cute. Somehow.
He then points towards you, “Okay. Now tell me yours.” His gaze is firm as he purses his lips while he expectantly waits to hear your name leave your lips.
Silence again.
The male groans and rubs his head nearly defeated. Were you mute? Did you not trust him? Selectively mute? Or do you not understand the words he’s speaking at all..?
He taps his chin and continues his grumbling.
Should he call someone? A priest? Asirpa? Shiraishi?
The male deadpans and nearly slaps himself at that last thought that ran across his mind.
The male continues his pondering as he taps his chin. He notices a blur of movement in his peripheral, and he turns his head. You’re quietly crawling back to the closet unannounced.
He glares at your backside as your ass and legs are the only things in his vision besides the back of your head while the quiet thumps of your moving limbs crawl towards the door.
“Oh, no you don’t. C’mere. You haven’t told me your name… or said anything!” He exasperates.
His hand flies to your ankle again, and a sound of protest leaves your lips. He harshly tugs your leg back, and your balance is immediately lost. Your body slams down onto the mat with a quiet thud.
A pained noise leaves your lips, and the male quickly lets go.
“Damn it… sorry.”
He stands up and rushes over to you. He then crouches beside you as you sit up on all fours nearly on the verge of crawling back towards the closet again.
That dusty place was clearly your safe haven.
He hooks his arms under your belly then effortlessly lifts you up to your knees. Your arms and legs dangle for only a second like a grabbed cat held by its sides. He then adjusts his arms and holds you bridal style as he sits back down on his previous spot.
The scarred male cradles you in his arms and situates his chin on the top of your head as he sorryily rubs his hand on your hurt face.
Well, if you could feel pain. Probably.
He still can’t tell if you’re a freeloader or a ghost.
He keeps his gentle caress on your face as you silently stay limp on his lap. “I’m sorry… didn’t meant to hurt you. I’m too strong for my own good at times,” he thinks for a moment, “you made a noise though…”
He continues to rub your cold face as he raises an eyebrow.
“Tell me; are you able to speak and are you really a ghost?”
…Or some no good freeloader that’s decided to live the hobo life– he thinks to himself. His eyes swipe down your form in his lap, and he inspects your appearance again. You have specs of dirt on you, yet you somehow look clean. Weird. It might be from always staying in the attic.
He hums to himself as he ponders. A clean hobo? A clean ghost?
His thoughts are interrupted as he feels you shift around in his lap.
You cuddle your cheek into his caressing hand then blink up at him. The tanned male’s fingers may have seen better days, but they’re still gentle as they brush across your cheek.
How cute.
His amber eyes clash with your soulless ones as silence rings throughout the room.
He sighs again. Your eyes may have the air of death, but they dullily shine with a subtle attractiveness. You’re weirdly cute. He really can’t get over that.
He hums to himself again and squints his eyes down at you.
You blink up owlishly back at him.
He resumes his staring.
Brief silence.
The male then presses his cheek against yours suddenly as his eyes shine. You’re a dirty looking thing, but you’re too cute. In fact you don’t even smell bad. You smell like…
Actually you have no smell.
The cuddling against your cheek continues. You scrunch your face but make no signs of leaving his lap. He cutely rubs his face on your disgruntled, cold one, and his chest flutters from hearing a small, annoyed sound leave your mouth.
Ah, cute.
He notes something to himself. Your skin isn’t ice cold and not uncomfortable to the touch surprisingly.
It’s a soothing chill that you find yourself feeling on the warmth of an afternoon. How comforting.
A small blush rises to his face as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His arms squeeze around you, and you let out a pitched noise.
A ghost plushie.
His ears become red, and he bites his lip. The male snuggles his face further in your neck. Another noise leaves your throat as his nose tickles the side of your neck. He can’t keep his hands off you as he squeezes your sides again.
You let out another wheeze, and he holds himself back from gushing. He finally kisses your cheek. It’s soft against his slightly cracked lips. You then close your eyes and eventually settle down.
He sighs and pulls his face away.
Why are you so goddamned cute?
He never found himself this close with strangers. Or… poltergeists.
He’s only affectionate like this, even reluctantly at times, with friends and close friends, but he’s never went as far as kissing. He honestly can’t help it.
You just look so…
So… just so damn kissable. And huggable. He feels like he could do this all day and never get bored of it.
And you have such a soft body. He gushes about you to himself. Stars practically bounce around his head as his fingers continue their movement in your sides.
“Haa… soft and cuddly.”
You open your eyes and stare at him confused, but the male is lost in his world admiring you.
A moment of cognizance knocks him out of his stupor. He quickly looks down at you. You both stare at each other again.
And continue.
It drones on long enough for it be considered a pregnant pause because he definitely went full weirdo.
Why in the hell is he so attached to you? It’s like he completely lost his senses and started giggling over a stray cat.
Ah, wait. Was this the work of your ghost powers? Or is it pheromones…
He sounds so stupid at this point, but he genuinely wants a reason as to why can’t he leave the ghost, uh, person in his apartment alone.
You’re a really cute roomie at least.