Chapter Text
It’s hard to live in Gotham, especially when you are a broke office worker going 9 to 5, 6 days a week, struggling to pay rent and cover basic expenses. You don’t know how you managed to survive all those years after graduation; everything seems blurry when you finally get the degree you begged your parents to pay for you to study for just to settle into a boring office job. You guessed you were so ashamed to go back home, so you decided to stay in Gotham, trying to find a new path and maybe an affordable apartment.
Speaking of which, the real estate agency was practically bouncing in his seat while talking to you, eager to pitch an apartment. He looked so passionate about making a sale that you wondered if he was more excited about the commission than your future home. In this economy, that’s a dedicated employee right there. You heard what he was saying, but the only information that stuck around is that you can get a 20% discount for an apartment with no elevator, and a 50% if the place is old, 70% if there used to be dead people, and down to 10% of the price if their death was tragic. You nod your head at every word he says, half listening, half planning.
“Is there any old place, with no elevator, haunted by a person who died very tragically?”
That’s how you found yourself standing in front of your new apartment with the price of -$3000 per month, yes, you read that right, the estate agency is paying you to live here. You have to say you just made a deal of a lifetime, an apartment so cheap it pays you. The look the agent gives you when you close the deal is pure concern, like he's witnessing a crime. He even asks you multiple times to think again. There used to be a man who lived here and was brutally murdered in his own flat. What makes it more tragic is that the killers haven’t been caught yet. Honestly, snagging an apartment that pays you is a bizarre win, and you're not about to let it go. Ghosts and evil spirits are scary, but being broke and homeless is scarier.
The first night sleeping at a new place is the hardest, yeah, of course, because you just rented a very haunted apartment, and also because you can feel his presence already, the evil spirit is what the estate agency told you, there is a man's silhouette lurking in the corner of your room, he seem to just standing there and looking at you, you about to get irritated when all of the sudden you saw him faze and a bloody face appear before your eyes. His face came clear, and you can finally see what he looks like. The room is dark, and his glowing body is the only source of light; he seems to have attempted to scare you, but you remained unfazed look at him with the most boring eyes, he looks very intimidated every normal person would be screaming, his left head is covered in blood, properly the reason he died in the first place, his hair is short black with a white streak, you can see the winds is making his hair floating or you don’t know if it’s because he’s a ghost so his hair naturally floating like that, it make you want to reach up and run your fingers through his hair, you imagin it would be soft. He seems to look confused when you don’t give him the reaction he was expecting. You, on the other hand, finally realize something and let out a loud shriek, which takes him back a little, but then let out a smirk when he thinks his scary vibes still work. That's when your words break the smug on his face.
“You know if your deadass is gonna wander around my room all night, how about you take my business plan for tomorrow and sort it out for me, yeah? The files are in my bag beside the bed, computer on the table, and since you’re a ghost and can see through the dark, don’t turn on the light; they are expensive,” I said with a straight face, acting like I didn't just tell a dead person to do my work. He doesn’t even know what it's about properly, but I'm sure he'll figure it out.
“Are you serious right now?” he looks at you, baffled. He is at a loss for words, wondering if you hit your head somewhere on the way here, but no, you look so genuine. He looks around and spots your bag on the floor, half open, and a few messy papers peeking out.
“Yes! Why do you get to stay at home all day, while I have to go out there working my ass off for a job that pays less than average and would get replaced by AI anytime soon? It’s unfair! This apartment is the only good thing I've gotten this whole year, so if you’re gonna stay here, make yourself worth it.”
He’s frowning harder now. “First of all, this isn’t actually a home, I’m stuck here! And second of all, I’m dead because you seem to forget that, it’s not like I could walk out there and ask for a job.”
“Then you can do it for me right now!” you smile happily, if he wants it so much, then you can give it to him while you have the rest you deserve, two birds, one arrow.
You lie on your side after saying the last word to him. You figure that after he found out you don’t care if he haunted this place, he would get bored and leave you alone, besides the chill down your spine through the night, that was the best sleep you have had in months.
—-----------------------------------------
Morning comes faster than you wanted; you wake up with blurry vision and eye strain, you try to blink away some sleepiness, and get yourself ready for the long day ahead. To your surprise, you see a stack of paper neatly on the nearby table, and your laptop and phone are charged right beside it. He actually did the work for you, you think; you guess that, after a long time, his only hobby is scaring people off this building, but now he finally got something else to do, and he’s rather good at it. You try to look around and find him, but he is nowhere to be seen. You guess he could just appear at a certain time, from the afternoon until early morning, you think, and you figure out he can only touch objects that are in this apartment, and that he can’t go out or leave this place.
You were lost in your thoughts when you saw your phone light up, a notification from the estate agency.
_Miss L/N, this might sound rude, but are you still alive?
_Please give me a text or call, I feel so nauseous after yesterday. I stayed up all night worrying.
_You should choose another apartment Miss L/N, I can help you find more offers.
You stare at the texts and recreate last night in your mind, where you basically tell the evil spirit he’s concerned about to fuck off and do your overtime work for you, well, you already took the money he gave you. The ghost here is not actually useless. Where can you even find a ghost that is willing to work overnight for you? You quickly text your estate agency a few reassuring words to soothe his unease.
You get up after a few rolls on the bed, questioning if going to work is worth it anymore, and you decide that you have to do it sooner or later, so you hurriedly get changed, take your stuff, and make your way to work. The trip to your company should be considered a form of torture. You have to take your bike because, of course, the gas prices are pricing, and you can’t afford that. You bike your way to the train station, where you will be standing in the middle of the bustling crowd. Someday, if you’re lucky enough, you can land a seat. After all that, you still have to walk a mile before you reach your workplace; the process of getting there requires more effort than the job itself. On your way to work, you take a look at the murder at the building you are living in on the internet, you find out the ghost that is currently haunted your apartment named Jason Todd, you saw a picture of him when you were reading, thick black hair with the white streak, his eyes is a beautiful green with a mixed of blue, the same face you saw last night, he looks very handsome without the blood trails off his face, apparently he was killed during one night, when two bulgars break into his home with weapon in hands, one hit him hard in the head make him unconscious then he died to loss of blood when the police and ambulance didn’t make it in time. He doesn’t seem to hold any grudge with anyone; the intruders seem to do it on pure randomness. You were frowning the whole time. How could someone be so cruel? And he was so young, too; he had his whole life ahead just to be ruined by some guys. You can’t even read the whole article; it’s just so brutal, and the killers have yet to get caught, too. The camera in the building didn't catch their faces, and they didn’t leave any tracks behind. It’s just a dead-end investigation.
You spent your whole day hovering over the desk without getting any work done; your mind kept drifting back to Jason. They say when a spirit is stuck in this mortal world, it’s because they died with deep regret, unfulfilled wishes that have yet to be done. If the one who killed Jason still has not been caught, he will be stuck in that apartment for god knows how long. You tuck your hair, trying to get yourself focused on the computer in front of your face; you can think about that later.
The day finally ends. You don’t know why, but time seems slower than usual, and you think you’re just tired. You don’t care; all you want to do right now is get home and knock out on your bed.
After the long way of going back to your old building, you have to walk your way up to your flat, which is on the sixth floor, in heels, might as well get used to it, you will have to do this every day, nonetheless. Looking up the stairs, you start regretting your life choices again; they are immersed in the dark with only moonlight peeking through the wall. From the outside, this dark old building looks abandoned, except for the bright light coming from your apartment; it's definitely drawing attention from the people who live nearby. You are making your way up when you have a feeling that there are more steps than normal, you look up at the number of the floor, ‘FLOOR 4’ it says, you keep walking up ‘FLOOR 4’.
…
Okay, maybe you’re a bit more tired than you think, so you drag your body, forcing yourself to keep climbing ‘FLOOR 4’. You take off your heels and start running up ‘FLOOR 4’. The light also begins to flicker on and off despite there being no power. At this point, you are sure that you were stuck in a loop and you know exactly who the culprit is.
"JASON! I know it's you, I have a long day, and don't want to deal with anymore shit, if you don’t want me to dig your grave up and used your ashes to fucking make fireworks you better cut this shit of!” you screamed into the void, for him to listen, it’s not like anybody is living in this building anymore so you can scream whatever and however you like.
You wait for a minute until the light stops and returns to normal. You huff out an angry noise and climb up the stairs again. You make it to the 6th floor with no trouble; at least he knows how to listen. You fumble through your bag and take out the keys, and open the door to your home, and a breeze of cold air rushes through your face. You see Jason hovering around the house, his back turned to you. He seems sulky because he can’t scare you off. Again, he turns around when you set your heels and bags down.
He has a puzzled look and a scowl on his face when he finally speaks up, “Why do you want to stay here? It’s not safe, you heard what the estate agency told you, you should leave.”
You shrugged when he said that. He’s kinda thoughtful for a ghost; you appreciate that. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go. This place is the only one I can afford; I even get paid $ 3000 a month! My job only gives me $5000 even if I work my ass off overnight, they don’t care how much effort and value I give to their company; they just want cheap labor.”
You saw Jason brown-knit together, as you said. Did he feel bad for you? He died with his eyes open, and he still feels bad because your company enslaved its employees—weird guy.
There was a beat of silence before you decided to speak up again, “If you have that much time to worry about me, you could have at least cooked me some dinner.”
Jason deadpan froze on his track. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You don’t have anything in your fridge.”
“Oh, so you don’t know how to go out and buy some? Not like you have to pay for it, you could just walk in, take the food, and go; besides those shamans and dogs, no one could actually see you.”
“You look like you enjoy this a little too much.”
…
“Maybe”
“I can’t go out! If you don’t remember, I started to think you did this on purpose to pissed me off.”
You don’t reply to his remark, you just turn away and try to hide your laugh behind your hand.
“Hey!”
You ignore him anyway. Decide that’s enough banter for the day, and head toward the kitchen. You grab the random cup of noodles you brought the first day you moved in, heat the water quickly, and pour it over the noodles. The smell of food fills the entire room. All the while, Jason stands behind you, watching closely. You noticed him but said nothing; you’ll have to get used to this eventually.
You take your cup and sit at the table, finally letting yourself enjoy the only meal you have today. Jason settles close by, eyes fixed on you as you eat. You raise an eyebrow at him and push the cup toward him.
“If you want some, just say it, no need to burn a hole into me with your eyes.”
He stares at you, “I can’t eat, I don’t need to eat, but the smell and the way you’re eating make me miss the taste.”
You stayed silent—can this guy get any more miserable? You know life sucks, but at least at the end of the day, you get to eat your sadness out, but he can’t do that; he has nothing. You feel so bad for him that you might cry.
“Oh”
…
“Do you have any favorite foods? I could buy it for you. You can’t exactly eat it, but the smell could maybe help?”
“That sounds more like torture than helping.”
“Well, okay, whatever, my bad for even trying.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness," He said mockingly, “But I don’t even know what my favorite food is. I don’t remember anything after the day I died.”
Yeah, you figured, he got hit in the head anyway.
“Okay… then anything you wanna try? Choose anything. What if it could trigger your memories?” For a person who can barely pay rent, you’re very eager and ready to buy him any meal he wants right now.
If he also noticed the change in your behavior, he didn’t say anything. “...A Bat-Mite Meals from Batburger.”
"Are you serious?” You just used his own words to bite him back
“What? You asked, I answered, and now you judge me?”
“Not judging, okay, I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s your choice, I respected that.” I can’t believe he’s dead, and the first thing he wanted to try to remember is the taste of fast food.
“I can hear you.”
“Shit, did I say the last part out loud?”
“No, but based on that reaction, I can already guess what you were thinking.”
“Fine! I will get you the Bat-Mite Meals from Batburger.”
“You said it like you’re not the one who offered to buy it for me.”
Yeah, okay, a Bat-Mite Meals from Batburger, you can afford that, you guess, you have 3005 dollars, including the 3000 dollars that your estate agency already sent, you can live off with that.