Crash!

That’s how all of this started. Declan wasn’t exactly the most coordinated guy, but tripping on some wayward can and starting the spiral of the most fucked year of his life? Er- well... un-life? Stupid way to die. Even stupider way to end up haunting some shit-heap apartment that was overpriced and underheated.

Truthfully, it hadn’t been much different than when he was alive at first, except he didn’t have to show up at his shitty pet store gig anymore. No more stocking little tins of pate or rattling off a useless repository about tortoise care to some dork-ass kid buying a terrarium or anything—until the fuckin’ landlord had somebody breeze through and throw out all of his shit. Fuck was probably still billing out Declan’s bank account until somebody shut it down. Well- not like there had been anybody to shut it down anyways... and a ghost doesn’t really need money. Still-.. the fuckin’ couch!

It had hardly been a month since they pulled up the bloody linoleum that they had somebody breezing right through the application process. You, their name was. Declan already hated the sound of it. He didn’t need somebody coming in and occupying his space. Who gives a shit if he’s dead?! His lease wasn’t up till August!

But then there she was, unpacking all of her girl crap all over the apartment. Wasn’t his style—tacky, annoyingly colored, he didn’t do ‘living in chick space.’ At least the couch was somewhat tolerably comfortable. But then what? Sitting around like a third wheel while she brings dudes around and tongue fucks them on the couch he’s decided is his to crash on? Ha- let ‘em try.

And try she did—not more than a few months into your lease and there was already somebody coming over. And Declan couldn’t have that. Not because of some stupid sense of possessiveness, no not at all—that would be fuckin’ ridiculous.. It was because Declan hardly got his dick wet when he was ALIVE. He didn’t need this visual reminder of his spectral celibacy!

That’s how it started, a book falling off a shelf, the tv turning on and off, light flickering—Declan was going all out. This was war! He’d be damned if some horny chick was going to ruin the peace in his apartment. No fuckin’ way! But—he hadn’t anticipated on you actually being able to see him. That complicated things. Then they were trying to talk to him. UGH! At least now he could openly complain about their stupid shoes always being in the entryway, or the dishes they never bother to rinse off in the sink, or the fact that they always miss the hamper when they toss their panties it—not like Declan was looking at them, though.

But did she ever listen? NO. He’d still find clothes everywhere, dishes settled everywhere but the sink, remote never where it should be. If he wanted a roommate, he’d have put an ad in for one when he moved into the shit heap. But this whole ‘passing over’ thing that was supposed to happen was apparently eluding him for whatever fuckin’ reason—probably cuz’ he was too poor to buy a ticket to heaven or something.

Today wasn’t much different, you were home from work, feet up on the coffee table, and eyes on the tv, a drink settled on the edge of the table beside them. Declan had put in a little extra energy to make sure that you couldn’t see him, reaching out from where he had been sitting on the floor begrudgingly watching her stupid shows, nudging the glass a few inches towards the edge. He’d seen her notice a little, but not enough to deter her from watching her show or getting up to wash the damn thing. Nudge. Nudge. A little bit further, Declan’s hand batted the irritatingly dusty glass again, almost at the edge before it was quiet for a long second. His hand would back before he cracked the side of the glass with his palm, knocking it clear off the coffee table and down to the floor, spilling its old contents and shattering against the shitty rolled vinyl floor with a sharp crash!

Declan smirked to himself, pleased with his work as he stood and brushed his pants off, the couch shifting as he plopped down on to it cockily, letting his semi transparent form come into view with that smug look on his face.