Ghost in the Closet

You Don't Exist... Surely?

His stare remained blank, not an ounce of emotion anywhere in sight. Saihara didn't know what the fuck this thing was trying to pull, but it wasn't funny. "You're not..." He glared at Ouma and crossed his arms, emotions slowly returning. No, he couldn't fall for this obvious attempt at distraction and manipulation. "Ghosts don't exist."

"Oh?" A smirk cut into Ouma's lips as his body darkened a shade. Saihara took notice of his body more than ever and realised that Ouma was slightly transparent. "Guess I'll just disappear then!" Within an instant, every part of the supposed ghost vanished, leaving no evidence of his existence. Just as easily as he disappeared, he reappeared a few seconds later.

Okay... Now Saihara couldn't ignore the evidence. Whatever Ouma was, he wasn't human, but could he truly be a ghost of all things? He never believed in the paranormal before, playing it off as gullible idiots and manufactured 'proof'.

"Ugh!" Ouma groaned dramatically and began floating, lying horizontally with his hands behind his head as if he were lying on a bed. "God, you're boring! I was kinda hoping you'd run away screaming like the others." He dangled an arm beside him as if it were dangling off the bed.

Saihara didn't know how to process all of the information being presented. Ghosts didn't exist, he didn't believe in them for almost two decades, and now God expected him to switch beliefs at the drop of a hat?! Without a word, he turned on his heel and grabbed his phone and car keys, walking past the ghost to leave the house. He needed help and he needed it now.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Saihara desperately pressed the button, ringing the doorbell repeatedly until he received an answer. The door soon swung open to reveal a pouting Akamatsu. She opened her mouth, presumably about to shout at her visitor, but the expression soon softened upon noticing her guest. "Huh? Saihara?"

"Are ghosts real?" The bluenette hurried, intensely staring at the blonde.

She blinked a few times, lips parted in hesitation. "Uh, what?"

Staring at the ground, Saihara clenched his fists at his side. "I think I'm crazy." On the drive to his friend's home, Saihara began weighing the different possibilities and arrived at one that made the most sense. He was insane.

Gasping, Akamatsu hurried to usher Saihara inside and shut the door, pulling her friend toward the lounge. "You're not crazy!" She cried, clasping his hands in hers. "Why are you talking about ghosts?"

Amami peeked around the corner and greeted Saihara to which the latter nodded in acknowledgement. The two had lived together for years due to being childhood friends and both being unable to afford a place on their own. "What's going on?" They asked, taking a seat beside Akamatsu.

Taking a deep breath, Saihara began explaining. "When I got home, I saw someone. He spoke to me, just like a normal human but... he said he was a ghost. I tried to grab him and my hand went straight through him." His hands began shaking as he recounted everything. Both of his friends shared a concerned glance but he continued. "Then, he began floating and he disappeared and reappeared like it was nothing."

The room fell silent for a few seconds, only mounting Saihara's anxiety. He yanked his hands from Akamatsu's dainty grip and grabbed his hair in his fists, slamming his elbows onto his knees. "Am I insane?! What if I'm schizophrenic or some-"

"Saihara," Amami interrupted. "You're not schizophrenic, okay? Your therapists said so." They reached forward and gently pried Saihara's hands from his hair.

"What if I am now, but I wasn't back then or something?!" Saihara didn't want to argue but he couldn't think of any other reasonable explanation. Ghosts didn't exist! Surely?