#ghost thom is just a sweet sassy ghost boi who craves attention and interaction

[daveeddiggsit]

If you do decide to do spooky drabbles, can write about moving in to your new home and realizing ghost!thom still lives there? He's not trying to get you to leave. He just hasn't had company in so long

omg i am absolutely in love with this idea! such potential for plot lol i had a lot of fun writing this. it ended up being way longer than anticipated.

You sigh, completely spent from your long day of unpacking. Moving into your new apartment has been exhausting to say the absolute least. Your back aches, your legs are extremely sore… and to be completely frank, all you want is to pass out on the mattress you’ve just finished setting up.

Unfortunately, someone… or something has different plans.

When you go to turn off your lamp table and head to sleep, an annoying tapping sound keeps repeating itself over and over again.  You’re not sure what it was until you look over to your window to see that it is open and the wind is blowing your curtains against your dresser.

Weird. You distinctly remember closing it 15 minutes ago… 

You must be more tired than you think. Sighing loudly, you turn your lamp back on and climb out of bed to close it, making sure to lock it tightly this time.

When you turn back around, you’re met with the sight of a man who seems to be around your age.

“I was doin’ ya a favor, darling, you should have left it open. 've heard it gets hot in here at night.” His voice is deep, yet soft at the same time, but his tone is nonchalant. He’s leaning back (or at least he seems to be) against a wall with his arms crossed in the corner of your bedroom, wearing a white sweater and a dark pair of pants.

His sudden presence absolutely terrifies you. 

“What are you doing here, you sicko? You think it’s cool to prey on girls and sneak into their room?!” You yell, trying to sound as strong as possible, but with a random, possibly crazy and dangerous intruder in your home, it’s difficult to keep your voice completely leveled. “Get out of my room! Get out of my home!”

It’s his turn to look surprised. With widened eyes and raised eyebrows, the man stares at you in shock. “Wait a minute, you can see me?”

While still terrified of the man in front of you, you let your anger and annoyance take the reins for a bit. “Yeah, dumbass. You’re not invisible, you know. You aren’t as stealthy as you think.”

He pushes himself off the wall so that he stands upright. “You can hear me, too?”

Ignoring him, your eyes search around the room for your phone. It’s on the bedside table right next to where he’s standing. Damn, calling the cops won’t be an option.

“Listen, I don’t have much here, okay? I just moved in, I’m running low on funds at the moment, I gave all my cash to the movers. Take what you want. Just… please don’t hurt me.” Your voice wavers slightly, but you remain strong as you search for a weapon nearby. Unfortunately, anything weapon-like is still in the many boxes that litter your room.

You stay frozen for a few more seconds before you jump into action, going on the offensive to drive whoever that man is out of your new home. Grabbing the closest thing to you, which is one of your new fluffy pillows that you just bought for the move in, you chuck it in the man’s direction… but it goes straight through him and hits the wall behind him.

Taking a small step forward, the man puts his hands up in a surrender position. “Hey, woah there, miss, calm down, alright? I’m not gonna hurt you. ‘M not robbin’ the place, I promise.”

You give him a puzzled, yet still frightened expression. “T-then what are you doing here? Who… what… are you? Why did the pillow…?”

He takes another step forward, this time with his hands up in a surrender position. He’s cautious with his next words. “I live here — well… I’m stuck here. It’s a long story. Just… don’t be afraid.” When you shrink back as he moves closer to you again, he continues to speak and try to calm you down. “It’ll be alright. Really, I just wanna talk, sweetheart. Relax.”

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart,’ I don’t even know you.” You say cautiously, backing up until your back hits the wall behind you. A few feet separate you two from each other. “Also, excuse me if I seem a bit tense at the fact that there is a random man inside of my room telling me not to be afraid…”

It isn’t until now that you realize that he’s actually quite attractive. His curls frame his face perfectly and his facial hair seems to be perfectly groomed, cut at just the perfect length. His brown eyes, although dull and somewhat empty are kind as they look down at you.

You don’t let that faze you, though.

“I suppose I should introduce myself, then.” He says with a wide grin before he sends you a small wave. “My name is Thomas Jefferson, and I’m not a man. Well — I am… I mean, I was, but not anymore. I, um… I— my… body died in this place years ago and my soul is trapped here.”

Thomas stumbles over his words and it seems that it’s a struggle for him to speak on that topic. However, that doesn’t stop you from being surprised at his claim.

He continues after you’re silent for a few seconds. “It’s been years since I’ve talked to someone. Actually, I haven’t spoken with anyone since… it happened. I, uh… understand if you don’t wanna speak to me, but… it’s nice to have a conversation with someone again.”

His soul is trapped here? In your home? He’s a spirit?

You shake your head slowly. “...but you look so real. How does that work?”

Thomas shrugs. “‘M not sure. None of the other tenants could ever see or hear me. I’m pretty sure you’re just special.” A small grin pulls at his lips. “So, what’d’ya say, sweetheart? You believe in ghosts?”

“I…” You trail off, staring at him. While only a few feet away, you can see him more detailed than you could before. You notice that his skin color is slightly greyed and there is no life that illuminates his eyes, but that doesn’t make him any less attractive. “I’m really the only one who can see you?” You ask, your gaze drifting back up to his.

“I guess so,” he says softly. “Like I said, I think you’re special.”

“I guess I am.” You murmur, looking away to sort out your thoughts. It’s a lot to take in, but you’re not entirely spooked (not anymore, at least) at the fact that you’re conversing with a… ghost in your room in the middle of a Saturday night.

“So, your name is Thomas?”

He nods, happy to hear his name come off somebody else’s tongue after years of not being acknowledged. His smile is small as he lets out a soft, “yeah.”

“Well,” you sigh, looking back at him. “If I’m going to be seeing a lot of you, then I should probably introduce myself, too. My name is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

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