forum "I'm used to being seen through but it feels so bad when it happens with you." // OxO // CLOSED! (Stalkers get ravioli)

Started March 19, 2021 by Deleted user

tune

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He held out his hand. "I'm Simon. You can call me Percy, or Simon. Either works."

Didn't ghosts tend to go through things? Confused but willing to try (and admittedly very curious), Beckett reached out to try to shake his hand.

"It will work. I have to concentrate to do the thing," he said wryly, and took Beckett's hand, sure his own was clammy and cold. Beckett's, however, was very warm. "I forgot that people are . . .hot." He winced inwardly. Poor choice of words. Yikes.

"O-oh!" Beckett watched in fascination and slight embarrassment as they shook hands. Normal, other than Simon's unusually cold skin. It wasn't unpleasant, however. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Was that a ghost stereotype? Lost in thought, it took Beckett a second to process the unintentional meaning of Simon's comment, his lip quirking in amusement when he did.

“Don’t laugh at me. I haven’t had a conversation in seven years,” he said defensively.

"I-I wasn't laughing!" Contrary to his statement, he was now giggling softly. He really couldn't believe this was happening.

“Stop it,” he said, irritated. “Pull yourself together, you oaf.” He frowned. “You should eat that ravioli now.”

Beckett grinned at Simon. He knew he should find this ghost that had been living in his house for seven years intimidating or even frightening, but somehow… he didn't. In fact, he was starting to think he might enjoy the company. He didn't get along with many people, so when he found someone he enjoyed being around it was like finding a needle in a haystack. "Oh, right! My ravioli!" He had nearly forgotten about dinner with all the chaos.

“What’re you smiling at me for?” he asked. “This doesn’t seem humorous.”

Beckett didn't answer, instead heading to the kitchen. Zelda weaved between his feet, meowing at him as if he had forgotten it was her dinner time as well. Beckett fed her before shifting his focus to his own meal, setting the ravioli out on the counter. His thoughts were still racing, so he figured he'd voice some of his questions. "Hey Simon, can you eat? Like, is that physically possible?"

“No. Well, I don’t really know. But I never feel hungry, so I don’t ever try.” He watched Beckett, feeling like some sort of window had been broken, like all of a sudden they could see into each other’s world. “You’re reacting remarkably well to this.”

Beckett shrugged shyly. "I'm still processing, but I guess it feels kinda… familiar? I mean, you've been here this whole time, I just didn't realize- well, I noticed small things but I didn't really question it." He chuckled, a lightbulb flicking on inside his head. "You're kinda like the cat I had during high school."

Simon choked on his own spit in surprise. "I'm not a cat!" he said indignantly, coughing.

"Oh, of course not." Beckett retrieved a pot from the cabinet, filling it with water. "I've just never seen you, though I've noticed many small things you've done around the house. I've felt you watching me sometimes, but it was never in a scary way. You enjoy being sarcastic and, dare I say, sassy." He turned to look at Simon, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "Tell me you don't see the similarities."

"Do I have fur? Or fluffy ears?" he said sharply. "I'm not a cat. Humans share their DNA with bananas, but that doesn't make them similar to bananas."

"I didn't mean you're literally a cat." Beckett set the pot on the stove, turning on the burner. "I was just comparing you to one, no need to get all defensive." He looked away, knowing that Simon wouldn't like to see the wide grin on his face. The way he got angry wasn't unlike a cat either.

"Quit smiling. I can hear it in your voice," he said. "If we're comparing things, then you get to be a dog. You drool in your sleep."

"And why were you watching me sleep?" Beckett asked casually. He grabbed a wooden spoon from the silverware drawer and gave his pasta a stir.

"I was bored," he said. "Not a whole lot to do around here when you're incorporeal. Why? What do you suggest I do at night when I can't mess up all of your little trinkets?"

The mental image of Simon watching him sleep should've been creepier. Beckett knew that. It wasn't his fault he didn't find it frightening. "Can you not sleep? I get why you don't need to, but sleep is nice." He still had countless questions to ask Simon, but he didn't want to overwhelm him, so he was spacing them out a bit.

"Sure I can sleep. But I don't like it. I'm already not fully here and it just makes that feeling worse. You can ask questions, you know. It isn't like I have anything better to do."

"Oh, okay! Um… you haven't seen too many embarrassing things I've done, right?" Beckett knew he had done some things in this house that he'd never want anyone to know about. Not because they were bad, just because he would most likely keel over dead if anyone mentioned them. His mind flashed to countless showers where he'd sung his heart out, nights where he'd cried over fictional characters, times he'd talked to the air for no apparent reason… Simon probably knew way more about him than anyone else at this point.

"I have heard you singing, yes. And sometimes, it sounded like you were talking to me, but obviously, I couldn't respond. Why? It isn't like I can tell anyone else about it."

Beckett felt his face heat up a bit, and he directed his gaze back to his pasta as he spoke. "I-I don't know, I just… It's embarrassing. I've done a bunch of embarrassing stuff when I thought no one was watching." There were many situations he didn't even want to consider the possibility that Simon had seen. He knew he probably had seen some of them, though.

"I don't really mind. It's nice to know that people are still weird. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."