All That's Wrong With Us

A faint ache pulsed at the base of North's neck.

He groaned as body stirred, fingers twitching against the hard surface of the desk. Arm had gone numb, tingling unpleasantly while he lifted head. A quiet wince slipped out when muscles stretched, shoulders rolling to shake off the stiffness. The dull light from the phone screen caught his eye, and blearily, he squinted at the message waiting for him.

Johan: If you're tired, just go lay down properly.

Johan: This message has been removed.

For a second, he just stared. A strange feeling settled inside him, one he couldn't quite name. Not warmth, not exactly, but something close, unsettling. Like an itch he was afraid to scratch. With a dramatic sigh, North flopped onto the bed, burying face in the plush of the pillow before shifting onto the side. Hands instinctively wrapped around Duckie.

"You're confusing, Phi," he muttered into the softness, voice muffled. "One second, you're taking my money. Next, you're making me stay on call with you. And now you're sending kind messages?"

The thought nagged at him, refusing to let go.

In those three days, Johan was everywhere. It didn't matter where North went, what he was doing, who he was with. Somehow, some way, Johan always ended up in his space. A text. A phone call. A stupid white Ferrari appearing at the worst possible moment.

No escape.

But it wasn't just that. Sometimes, even when Johan wasn't there, North still felt his presence.

Like a lingering shadow just out of sight, a weight in the air, a ghost in the corner of his vision. It was stupid. So stupid. But there were moments, brief flickers of something unnatural, when North would turn a corner and feel like Johan was behind him, only to find nothing but empty air. Spooky. 

A shiver crawled up the spine, raising goosebumps on the skin.

Very irrational, easily afraid brain screamed in protest. Johan wasn't secretly lurking in the dark corners like some horror movie villain. Right? But another part of him, the terrified, superstitious, spirit-fearing one, suddenly entertained a much worse possibility. What if he was a ghost. A rich ghost. A vengeful rich ghost.

Yelping, North slapped both hands onto his head, immediately warding off whatever supernatural nonsense might be trying to latch onto him. Nope. Nope. Nope. He quickly muttered a few silent prayers under the breath, just in case, then wiped sweaty palms down the arms like he was brushing away bad energy.

"Go away, ghost," he whispered, voice barely above a breath. "I'm broke. You won't get anything from me." The room was silent. Nothing happened. Good.

Satisfied that he had definitely taken care of the problem, North exhaled and flopped back onto the bed, aggressively hugging Duckie. Still, he didn't let his feet dangle off the edge. Just in case.

"It's all his fault, stupid Phi!" 

North needed space. Just a little time where he could breathe, where he didn't have to think about debts or weird conditions or the way Johan's voice sounded too steady, too smooth, like it never wavered.

"What do you want from me?" Duckie, predictably, didn't answer. North sighed again, shifting until he was curled around the mascot. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. I just need more jobs. Gotta pay this off fast so I can get out of this mess."

The thought settled heavily in his mind, yet something in torso still felt strange. At least Duckie was warm and fluffy. Unlike a certain someone, who was probably built out of pure muscle and ice.