Cedric The Sensational X Reader

Floating

You weren't sure what was in the long ornate box in the corner. 

You knew you were bound to it. At least that is what you assumed. You don't really know much. Ghosts don't really remember much, and its not like there was anyone around to ask. I mean there was that one guy. Tall, scraggly, and always poking around this dimly lit room. He was the only person you had seen since becoming incorporeal. How long has that been? Probably been about a few months? Time blurs together when you don't have to sleep. Sighing heavily, you leave your spot by the box and float up to the ceiling.  Haunting was so boring. 

The slam of the door snapped you away from your thoughts. Speak of the devil. Technically, you suppose your job would be to scare him. Protect the box your bound to and all that. But you could never bring yourself to do that. Something always stopped you. Emotions should have stopped with your heartbeat, but you could have sworn you felt something towards this man, at least at some point. 

You were just worried, you suppose. That should be what this hollow feeling is. The mans face was unnaturally thin and gaunt. His eyes were dull and glassy, with bags so large you could store a elephant in them. He was the only person you ever saw, always here for hours at a time. Sometimes you hear people at the door, but you've never seen him acknowledge the knocking. The noise would go away after a while. If only you could follow, escape this dismal room and explore. But the box never let you get far. You weren't sure if this was normal for a ghost, but you hadn't exactly been able to ask anyone. With no memories to call upon, and no new sources of information, you learned to just let the questions go. 

Were you a smart person when you were alive? It's possible. Maybe living-you would have been able to make sense of the books covering the room. The open tombs spread across the floor, pages marked with scribbles and notations that you could not even begin to make sense of. Whatever it was, your only companion was fixated on it. He spent all day and night reading, hastily writing messy words on paper that would later be spread out across the walls. Searching for... something. Who knows. Who even cares? You groaned as you watched him work, it was so dull. predictable. How long do you have to float around anyway? How long does the afterlife even last? You couldn't even mess with the only guy you saw. It would be so easy to send a little breeze, flip over all those delicately marked pages, scatter those meticulously sorted papers. It would be so much fun... but not really. you did it once, near the beginning. At first it was so funny to watch the scramble, the sheer panic on his face as everything flew around and his work was undone. It was afterwards, as you watched him sink down, tears brimming in those glassy eyes. Whatever the scribbles meant, it was important. Feeling guilty, you had done your best to quietly flip as many books back to their pages. Still, the whole situation left a ache in your non-existent gut. Something about the pure hopelessness present on that worn and aching face made you wonder what could be so important about this research he was killing himself over. But again, no sense pondering over questions without answers. 

A dull thud brought you out of your thoughts. He passed out again. As expected. It had been about three days since the last time, and you were pretty sure he didn't leave the room to go sleep. Floating down from your spot above, you hover above the floor near the fallen man. His white bangs hung over his gaunt face, and his arm was bent out at a awkward angle. Reaching out, you softly attempt to brush the hair towards his ear. As always, your fingers pass through the hair with ease. Shame. It looks super soft. Or at least you think it does. You don't feel things as a ghost, your not even sure what soft feels like anymore. It was annoying though, not being able to help. huffing at your ineptness, you "sit" down on the floor next to him and hover your hand over his. It always felt familiar when you did this, as if it was something you had done a hundred times before. You would never be sure who this man was, you couldn't really say you cared to know either. But company was company, as boring and pathetic as he was, you would offer him whatever help your apathetic soul could provide. 

After all, there wasn't anything better to do. 

A/N 

Is it really a exam season without a update? I have paper to be writing but this is way more fun. Cedric POV coming soon(?) as long as I don't lose motivation which is entirely possible and highly probable. Sorry y'all. 

Peace.