Ghost One Shots | FemReader

ALL OF US, STRANGERS

Part One

The fire alarm, that shrill ringing reverberated around your skull as you dashed down the empty stairwell to get outside. Mandatory evacuation of high rises, everyone had to leave.

So you stood, shivering in a light smattering of snow, watching as it collected on the concrete slabs around you, the sounds of Manchester in a competition to drown out the constant blaring.

It was a flash of light that caught your eye, from red to blue to purple to green. A cheap LED strip. And a figure, leaning out their window about 6 stories up, smoking a cigarette.

The fire alarm stopped.

That prick.

He was the reason it was going off again. That was twice in as many days.

You stared up, he probably couldn't even make you out, but you stared anyway. Steely. Eyes narrowing as you wrapped your jacket around you with a final huff and stormed back inside.

The elevator took forever to arrive, a numb fingertip pushing the call button repeatedly to no avail.

It was just one thing after another.

The doors slid open. Finally. You and six other residents stepped inside, the faint whirring of the mechanics which held this steel box floating in the air of a 20 story free-fall whirring as they pulled you up and up, 8, 13, 15.

Home.

You closed to door gently behind you. The elevator dinged, rough scraping as that metal hatch slid open again. More people settling back in. More doors closing.

Knocking.

You froze for a second, turning back to the door, a hand pressed against the cold, thick paint. An eye peering through the peep hole.

It was him. The nerve!

"What do you want?!" Your voice muffled through the door.

He held up a bottle. The door clicked as you unlatched it, opening it wide and staring at him with all the annoyance you could muster.

He ran an uncoordinated hand through his hair, blonde, dull from a lack of sun. Small grey hairs fading his colour out. Stubble. Brown eyes, dark shadows, red sclera, dilated pupils.

"I saw you watching me. Thought I would come and say... hello."

Thick London accent, Mancunian twang.

His clearly drunken charm did nothing to abate the fury you felt.

"You set the fire alarm off again."

"I did."

"Why?"

"I fancied a cig."

Silence. Your breathing was audible as it came out aggressively from your nostrils.

"It's so quiet in here, don't you think? Too quiet."

More silence. He moved to lean against the frame of your doorway. You'd seen him a few times, waiting for the lift, collecting his mail, carrying shopping bags back to his flat. They always clinked.

"So, what do you think?" He shook the bottle again. "Friends?"

"No."

And the door closed in his face, but your hand lingered behind for a moment. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe he was lonely too, maybe you were lonely.

Yet, when you opened it back up, he was gone. 

Part Two