Archive of Our Own

Gilbert inhaled, deep and slow, as his eyes slowly made their way around the room; it was dark and a bit colder than he would’ve liked, but it would have to do. Not like he had any other choice, anyway.

He stepped over to the bed at the far end of the room, setting down the small bag of things he had brought with. It wasn’t much, honestly, just most of his clothes and a few books and such—anything to keep him busy, really. Gilbert would probably have to buy more clothes at the campus store later, but for now that was pushed to the bottom of his priority list.

A small chair sat beside an equally small window which took most of his force to pry open, but the breeze helped him appreciate the coolness of his surroundings a bit more than just sitting in it. He leaned an arm against the windowsill and stared into the bright night sky; Gilbert felt his hand twitch ever so slightly, a painful reminder of a habit he was still struggling to break. Perhaps it was the night sky or the cool spring breeze tempting him this time.

The buzz of his phone in his pocket pulled him away from drifting thoughts as he squinted at the bright seen to see what had caused the noise; unsurprisingly, it was another message from Vincent, who had texted him practically every five seconds that day. Talk about overprotective (although Gilbert wasn’t much different himself, really). 

“Did you arrive safely? Gilbert?”

“Yes, I did. Don’t worry. It’s nice here—I don’t seem to have a roommate yet though.”

“If they end up being a douche, just say the word and I’ll get them kicked out.”

Gilbert chuckled lightly. “You don’t need to do that, Vince. I know how to handle myself.”

“Yeah, but I bet you’re going crazy for a cigarette right now, aren’t you? There’s plenty at home!”

“I’m not driving all the way back home for a cigarette, even if I do want one.”

“Please?”

“No, Vince, I’m sorry.”

“Fine. At least text me often enough to let me know you’re okay then.”

“Alright, will do. Bye now.”

“Bye.”

He really was a worrywart, that Vincent. Though Gilbert figured he showed it in a different way; they were more similar than they thought.

Standing, Gilbert brushed his hands off on his pants—another awful habit he had picked up, but at least it wasn’t damaging him—and began to unpack his things. He folded clothes and set them in drawers or hung them in the closet, aligned books just right on the bookshelf nearest to his bed, and then promptly plopped back down against it. The room smelled like dust, he noted, and it seemed to be one of the older rooms in the building. At least it was nice and quiet.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

“People are using this room now?!” A voice whispered, almost frantic.

“I don’t know. Who cares?” Another returned.

“It’s our room, Alice! If someone else is using it, then we can’t!”

“Oh. I guess that’s bad, then.”

Gilbert turned his head to the side and he would’ve gotten up to peek through the door to see if anyone was lingering outside had it not been for the fact that there were two people standing right there, beside him, and he hadn’t even heard the door click open or shut.

Reeling, he shot up and pressed back into the wall behind the bed, eyes wide with shock. “Uh,” he started, fumbling over his words because when the hell did they get here, anyway? “Are...um, is one of you my roommate?” He asked stupidly.

The two paused a moment, then the taller—a boy with blond hair that Gilbert thought could never have been a brighter yellow color—leaned closer to the other—a girl with long dark hair that almost reached down to her ankles. “Is he talking to us?”

The girl stared, hard. Gilbert felt a shiver go up his spine before she crossed her arms and responded without moving, “I think so. Watch this.” She leaned forward, grinning madly, and pulled at the corners of her lips, making strange noises and expressions to get a reaction out of Gilbert; certainly she got one, but it was only pure confusion mixed with slight annoyance and even disgust.

“W-what’s going on here?”

The boy gasped softly. “Oh my god, he can actually see us!” He leaped forward, pressing up against the front edge of the bed to get as close as possible, as if he were trying to analyze Gilbert’s features. “Hello there, stranger!” He spoke, almost robotically, gesturing towards himself and the girl beside him. “I am Oz! This is my friend Alice!”

Wincing, Gilbert pressed himself further back against the wall until he was practically about to merge with it. “H-hello?” Though he had the brains to respond normally, it all came out jumbled and awkward, sounding more confused than anything; what a great first impression, he thought. “I, uh—I’m Gilbert…?”

“You sure about that?” The boy, Oz, asked, giggling as he leaned back away again. Gilbert sighed quietly with relief now that he wasn’t being forced back into the corner. 

“He looks like he’s got a pile of seaweed on his head,” the girl, Alice, noted. She absentmindedly chewed on the side of her finger, reaching out and grabbing the side of Oz’s sleeve.

Gilbert’s eyes shifted between the two of them; he couldn’t even formulate a response to Alice’s rude remark because of the welling of confusion inside him. Introducing them had cleared nothing up.

“You’re confused,” Oz said.

“I—I am,” Gilbert confessed, sounding distressed. “You’re partially transparent.”

Oz glanced down at his hands and then beside him to Alice. He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes that time. “We are,” he replied simply. “And you—well, you’re opaque, aren’t you?”

Gilbert sputtered uselessly, “I would hope so.”

“Something wrong with being transparent?” Alice narrowed her eyes a little at Gilbert, who couldn’t help but flinch. She seemed angry, though her eyes were shrouded in something akin to sadness as well—regret, possibly?

“Not at all,” came his dishonest response. There certainly was something wrong with being transparent. His head strained to understand why he could faintly make out the silhouettes of the drawers and bed frame behind the two standing in front of him, just barely settling on the idea that he was tired and his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Good, then.”

“Alice, you’re going to scare him off if you act like that.” Laughing, Oz’s voice sounded thick with brotherly care as he patted down a stray hair from Alice’s head. “Sorry, um, Gilbert, was it? Alice has no bad intentions, I promise, she’s just a little... protective.”

Gilbert shivered at the arrival of a large gust of wind bursting through the open window and he almost scrambled to his feet to close it until he remembered where he sat. “It—I see,” he managed. Then, “what are you?”

Oz stilled for a moment. Shit, Gilbert hissed internally.

“A ghost, I suppose?”

“Monsters,” Alice spat.

“Monsters?” Gilbert echoed.

“That’s what they called us,” Alice affirmed, her eyes still flickering with silent anger. “Monsters.”

“Ah, but Alice,” Oz interrupted, his brows pushing together despite the grin he was keeping, “you know that’s probably not true, right?”

“Probably?”

Oz turned his head back to Gilbert, waving a quick hand. “No, no, I promise we won’t hurt you or anything! She’s just,” he paused, then trailed off there, shaking his head. “It’s best not to worry about it, really.”

The room spiked with cold and Gilbert registered the numbness around his knuckles as they gripped at the loose bed sheets. Something was swimming around in his gut, but he fell short when trying to place it in his mind. Despite his hesitations, the man slid forward to the edge of the bed—he felt almost inclined to trust them, for whatever reason, and maybe that would be part of the reasons for his downfall.

Only one way to find out.

“Alright,” Gilbert said, “then if you really are...ghosts,” his tongue barely allowed the word to fall off—such a childish thing to believe in, yet here he was, playing along, “why are you here?”

There was another hiccup in the flow of the conversation and Gilbert became worried he had said something wrong. He probably did, judging by how his arms twitched in longing for a cigarette that he didn’t have.

“We don’t know,” Oz answered and his voice was honest. “It’s best not to worry about it,” he repeated, “because we’ve been here for years and there’s nothing for us.”

“Years?”

“Years.” Oz nodded. “I’ve searched every inch of this campus, every nook and cranny, and nothing turned up.”

Gilbert’s hands turned around each other in his lap, his mouth open to speak before it closed again and then reopened. “You’re...dead, aren’t you?”

“Alice,” Oz hushed the girl gently as her hands became tight fists. “Yes, we are. Well, we think so. I don’t really know, but we’ve been here so long. Nobody notices us. I doubt we’ve aged at all, either, not that I would be able to tell.”

“Sorry,” Gilbert mumbled, running a shaky hand through curly locks.

“It’s not your place to apologize, silly.” Oz plopped down beside Gilbert on the bed and Alice followed suit—Gilbert distinctly noticed how the bed did not shift or dip in response to their body weight. “Anyway,” the boy continued, drumming his fingers against his thigh, “it’s nice to finally have someone to talk to. It’s been forever, literally!”

The man’s nose scrunched lightly in conflict with the sudden change in tone and topic, but he allowed Oz to guide it rather than making him uncomfortable. That, and Gilbert could go without Alice glaring daggers at him again. “It’s a bit cold,” he explained quietly while rising to his feet and shutting the window at the far end of the room.

“That’s a tacky character,” Oz noted when Gilbert turned back to him.

“What?”

The boy gestured towards him and Gilbert’s eyes fell down to his shirt. “Welcome Freshman,” Oz read aloud, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Is it the mascot?”

Gilbert sighed heavily, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he remembered how Vincent roped him into wearing the thing in the first place, taking thousands of pictures together before he departed. He really should’ve changed out of it by now.

“I don’t know,” Gilbert answered truthfully, pulling out the fabric to get a better view of the cartoonish features of the small, round face. The character held a mischievous grin, bangs covering one eye. If anything, it looked devilish. Gilbert shivered again, though this time it felt like a warning. “It’s kinda creepy.”

“You think?” Oz laughed, taking Alice’s hand in his own. He gently played with the digits, rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand. “Can we stay here?”

“What?”

“This is your room, isn’t it?” Oz glanced towards the discarded baggage Gilbert had set down earlier.

“It is, sort of.”

“Then it’s fine, isn’t it?”

Gilbert bit at his lip and looked away. “I might have a roommate.”

“They can’t see us. Probably.”

“Probably,” Gilbert echoed, defeated.

“Please?”

Though he wasn’t looking, Gilbert could feel the pleading features of Oz’s face boring into his soul. He felt trapped, like he couldn’t deny him.

“Fine,” he sighed, “but only if you promise not to cause any problems. I don’t need to stand out on one of my first days here.”

“I promise!” Oz chimed and he raised the hand locked with Alice’s, dragging her arm up into the air as well. “Alice?”

She paused and stared at Gilbert, who didn’t dare stare back. “I promise,” she grumbled, pressing her forehead against the side of Oz’s shoulder.

“What’s this thing?” Oz asked the next morning; Gilbert couldn’t even remember how he had decided on anything—it all felt like some bad dream, but no, his eyelids peeled open and he could see the bright blond fluff (still slightly translucent) bouncing curiously around the desk. 

“What?”

“This little box on your desk!”

Gilbert pinched his brows together and sat up, scratching at the back of his head. His whole body ached—the structure of the bed did little to make the tough mattress any better to sleep on. Shadows on the wall wavered in the passing of clouds through the window. He peered tiredly across to where Oz stood, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before he could accurately place just what had him so enthralled. “My phone?” He asked dumbly.

“Your phone?” Oz repeated, equally dumbly. He reached out to grasp it, exhaling in relief when it didn't slip through his grasp. “It’s warm.”

“It’s charging,” Gilbert started. Then, in surprise, “you can hold things—touch them?”

Oz grinned and held the phone between his palms, glancing over at where Alice was lounging on the opposite bed. The screen didn’t light up and a small knot formed in Gilbert’s stomach—why?

“Can you turn it on?”

“I can,” Gilbert mumbled.

Oz held the phone towards Gilbert and delighted in the flash of light upon the screen’s awakening. He examined the background, twisting and turning it in his hands as if he could pull something out of it. “Who is this?”

The man shifted on his bed, swinging his legs over the side, assuming Oz meant the photo on his lockscreen. “Me and my brother,” he said.

Despite his best efforts in navigating the screen, which consisted mostly of random tapping that did nothing anyway, the screen flickered off again and Oz let out a sigh. “Why does it only trust you?”

“What?” Gilbert laughed a little, the noise bubbling up from his stomach.

“I couldn’t do anything,” Oz explained, “but when you touched it, it lit up immediately. Is this magic?”

A pause. “What?” Gilbert managed again after a moment, shoving down another laugh into his gut. “That’s not how it works.”

“Then how does it work?”

“I—I don’t know every little detail, but I don’t think it registers...ghost’s fingerprints. It might not work because it doesn’t know you’re actually using it.”

“Hmm, weird.”

Gilbert resisted rolling his eyes—in a way, his ignorance (or something like that, at least) was endearing. He smiled and watched Oz for a moment longer as the boy fiddled around uselessly with his phone; part of him feared that he would slip and drop it, but the other part was just content watching the blond mess around with it. It was almost like watching a dog play around with a new toy.

“You said other people can’t see you?” The man asked as he stood, moving aside to rummage through the suitcase he hadn’t bothered to fully unpack the night before. Anything was better than that awful mascot tee, so he opted for a simple black shirt and a light jacket. Jeans would be fine too—he could probably get away with wearing the same pair if he tried.

“Hm?” Oz glanced away from the phone, carefully setting it back down on the desk. “Ah, yeah. You’re the first one that has been able to see us, at least. That’s what we know.”

“Are you leaving?” Alice grumbled from across the room, her mouth muffled by the pillow that was currently stuffed inside. Gilbert frowned a bit, but decided that it wouldn’t do much damage since, technically, she was leaving no trace behind on it anyway.

“I have classes,” Gilbert said, awkwardly interchanging his shirt in a way that wouldn’t leave him fully exposed to the cool air or their eyes. He tugged on the jacket sleeves over his arms. “If you guys are going to follow me around, at the very least, I need you not to distract me from classes. If I mess up during one of my first days, it’ll be hell on earth here.” He shivered at the thought.

Alice squinted at him for a moment, then groaned and turned over onto her back; her legs kicked up in the air and Gilbert turned his head quickly, the fabric of her dress falling neatly between her legs. “You’re boring.”

“Have some decency,” Gilbert scolded, his eyebrows pinched together above his nose. Oz’s cheery laughter invaded his left ear and he opted to look in his direction instead. It was a much safer bet than Alice’s unpredictable movements, anyway.

“I am decent.”

“Ugh, what?”

“I said—”

“Alright, alright! Let’s not fight,” Oz interjected, waving his hands lightly. He hummed and turned on his heel, walking towards Alice and leaning over her face. “Alice, Gil’s a good guy, okay? Don’t be mean to him!”

“Gil?” Gilbert repeated, dumbfounded. Oz only hummed again.

“Fine,” Alice huffed and crossed her arms, “but I wanna go with! I don’t wanna be stuck in here all day. What’s the point? We’ve been fine wandering around before!”

“That’s true, but it could be different.”

“How?”

“There’s a new class, Alice.” Oz chuckled and lightly tapped her nose with his forefinger. She grumbled and scrunched it in return. “If Gilbert could see us, other people might be able to as well.”

“That’s dumb.”

“It’s plausible,” Gilbert said. “They might’ve seen you already, but said nothing. I mean, ghosts, who would believe them? They might’ve just thought it was their imagination, too.” When Oz nodded fervently, he added, “just how old is this place, anyway?”

“Probably a few hundred years,” Oz replied, turning away from Alice. Gilbert shifted uncomfortably after thinking too hard about the definitive silence in his movements. “Alice and I...have been here for a little under a century, I think. But I’m not sure how long we’ve been... gone.”

Again, Gilbert’s skin felt like rubber against his bones. He shifted, but a tightness remained around his limbs like shackles. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. His throat was drier than he’d liked it to have been.

“It’s okay,” Oz shook his head and Alice had finally sat up and stood beside him. She looked at Gilbert, carefully; it almost felt like he was staring back at a cat who was analyzing his entire being. He shivered at the thought and shoved it away. No more cats.

Thankfully, their conversation took a turn as Gilbert realized he was losing time to get to his classes; Alice practically begged Oz to let them follow him around all day, floating obediently by his side, but Oz refused, saying that he would need the alone time to focus (or perhaps sort his thoughts; the last day would probably be taking a toll on him). 

The blond was right—Gilbert had more trouble than he would’ve liked to admit, but really, how could he focus when something so...supernatural had happened? Frankly, now that they were completely out of his sight, the man was beginning to think he had gone crazy. It was awfully concerning to have made up these two apparitions as some sort of replacement for a roommate that never showed; maybe he wouldn’t get one at all. Though, really, he wouldn’t mind having a double room all to himself (god forbid the school find it out). 

That wasn’t the point, though, no. He kept thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking, but nothing showed. Nothing truly made sense, so of course Gilbert was sitting in a giant lecture hall, gnawing incessantly on the cap of his pen while everything the professor said passed through his ears.

He was only shaken from his thoughts when someone tapped on his shoulder and for a moment he believed his own soul to have ripped out of his body.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice asked from beside him. Gilbert turned quickly—almost too quickly—and looked at the owner; the girl was petite, smiling shyly at him from the seat to his left. “I’m sorry,” she continued, ignoring how Gilbert gaped at her strikingly familiar golden hair and emerald irises, “but you just looked so... frustrated.”

It took him a moment to compose himself, but the man got it together enough to formulate a response. “I—yes,” he said stupidly. “Sorry. I’m alright, I’ve just—I’ve had a rough time getting settled in.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, though it wasn’t the complete truth either.

“Oh, I see! I’m sorry to hear that,” the girl looked away for a moment, “but I hope you get used to everything soon. I’m actually a freshman here too, so I understand.”

“Really?” Gilbert bit his tongue when the shock carried through his tone. “You seem so much more...composed, at least. I mean that in a good way.”

“Thank you! I guess I’ve always had a knack for adapting to my surroundings.” She laughed and smiled and for a moment Gilbert felt his shoulders slack at the informality of her voice. “I’m Ada, by the way.”

“Ah. Gilbert,” he returned. “My name.”

“I figured.” Ada laughed again, but this time Gilbert shrunk ever so slightly within himself; he didn’t really need to clarify that, so now he just felt plain stupid. “This class is...kinda boring, don’t you think?”

Gilbert blinked. “I do,” he answered simply.

“Right? It would be so much cooler to learn about something actually interesting like the occult or paranormal!”

“The pa—what?”

Ada gasped and quickly brought a hand up to her lips, cheeks dusted with pink embarrassment. “Oh! I—I’m sorry, I get how that might be creepy or weird. I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to laugh; sure, it was a bit unexpected from a girl like her, dressed so cutesy and girly, to be interested in something like that, but honestly he could probably benefit from taking some time to learn about it himself. He absently turned the page of his notebook, the professor’s voice nothing more than white noise at that point. “Don’t be sorry,” he said, “it’s interesting. I’d actually like to learn about it myself.”

“Really?” The blonde’s eyes lit up at his comment and Gilbert shifted lightly, but not uncomfortably. “Oh, I know! Are you free after class? My roommate and I are researching different horror stories tonight. It’s like a little party or something! You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, though!”

Gilbert hummed and paused a moment. On one hand, this could be a good opportunity to research the university and its past with...what seemed like experts, at least, but on the other hand he didn’t have any real reason to, nor did he want to leave Oz and Alice alone for too long. It just felt... wrong.

Still, he found himself saying, “No, it’s alright! I’d be happy to show up.”

“Oh, great! Usually everyone is put off by my interests, so...I’m glad!”

Gilbert’s stomach churned. Was he hungry? Lunch wasn’t too long ago and he had eaten the same as every other day, so he should be just fine. He smiled and nodded, letting their conversation drift off into a comfortable nothingness.

The dorm room was considerably warmer than his own, windows locked tightly shut and candles strewn across stacks of books and desks and almost any other flat surface they could carefully balance on. Ada apologized for the mess as she ushered him in.

“You actually got someone else to come?”

“Sharon! Don’t be so rude,” Ada scolded, lightly patting the side of Gilbert’s arm. She pulled him over to the side of her bed and pulled up a chair where he could sit; awkwardly, he did. 

“Sorry,” Sharon said, “it’s just that we never have people come over to our dorm.” She glanced at Gilbert and gave a smile devoid of any malintent, but not exactly friendly. It was polite, at the very least. She twirled a strand of her long, ginger hair around her finger while leaning back against the wall on her side of the room, laptop carefully teetering on her knees. “I was working.”

“Was!” Ada grins and suddenly Gilbert is aware of his silence; just what was he supposed to say, anyway? “That means you can join us.”

Sharon’s eyes fell on Gilbert and he swallowed dryly. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Ada pushed.

“Fine. What’s your name?”

“Me?” Gilbert asked stupidly.

“No, I meant my roommate,” Sharon quipped sarcastically. Gilbert had it coming, though. “Yes, you.”

Gilbert wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “Uh, I’m Gilbert. Sorry.”

“Gilbert,” Sharon repeated. “Huh. I guess we’re both stuck with old person names then.”

“Wha—?”

“Anyways!” Ada excitedly pulled out her own laptop, clutching it tightly as she hopped up to dim the lights. “Sharon, can you light the candles?”

“Mhm.” Sharon followed suit, leaving Gilbert to sit uncomfortably as the girls rushed around the room, lighting each and every candle. The room began to flicker and glow a light orange color, the bright sky outside being blocked out when Sharon closed the blinds. 

“Is this...necessary?”

Ada glanced behind her when Gilbert spoke up. “Hm? Of course! It’s all about the atmosphere, Gilbert! Otherwise it’s not as fun or scary!”

“Er, right.” Gilbert decided to leave it there, watching as they fussed about the room for a while longer. It was only when they settled quietly across from each other that Ada grinned up at him and patted the rug beside her.

He moved onto the floor, sitting crisscrossed beside the blonde as she opened up her laptop and began typing; he couldn’t exactly make out the words, but maybe that was simply because Gilbert’s eyes were still adjusting to the new darkness of the room.

“What are we going with today?” Sharon asked.

“Hmm, how about the Junko Furuta case?”

Sharon clearly grimaced despite the dim lighting. “No fucking way,” she hissed. “That one—it’s horrible. Worst thing I’ve ever read. I feel awful for her.”

Ada frowned. “That’s true,” she mumbled, suddenly shivering as if she had only then remembered what the case involved.

Gilbert, frankly, had no idea what that case was about or how the girl was involved, but he figured it must’ve been horrible if Sharon said so. “Um,” he started, “how about researching the history of the college itself?”

Ada looked at him for a moment before a wide grin spread across her face. “Perfect! We’ll go with that! I’ve heard rumors about this place having spooky stuff go on before, so there’s bound to be something interesting!”

“Are we really sure about that…?”

“Nope!” Ada giggled and began to type up questions into the browser; Gilbert leaned over and watched curiously. “But at least we’ll be having fun, right?”

Sharon sighed. “Well, it’s better than reading that again.”

The next few hours were mostly... boring. There wasn’t much interesting to be found, their university was mainly known for its school spirit (bullshit, as anyone knows) and excelling grades. It’s history was riddled with the same old spiel and sob story; there was almost nothing there.

Almost.

“Wait, what’s that?”

“What?”

Gilbert reached over and pointed out one of the links; it seemed to lead to some random forum post, but it certainly was the most interesting thing out of all the other links; how could they have missed it? “This,” he said.

“Ah, that does look promising.” Ada clicked the link, slowly beginning to filter through all of the comments and information. Gilbert’s eyes scanned the screen just as Ada’s did, following along with every little scrap of detail they were given.

“Look up that family name,” Gilbert suggested breathlessly. Ada didn’t move. He glanced towards her face. “Ada?”

“That’s—that’s my grandparents’ family name.”

“What? What are you guys looking at?” Sharon asked, inching closer across the rug.

“Sharon,” Ada gasped, spinning the laptop around her lap, “look. Just—just look. Read it.”

Skeptically, Sharon took the laptop and set her own aside, reading over the forum thread. Ada gnawed on her bottom lip and occupied her hands around each other, nervous habits that Gilbert could pick out far too well for his liking. He hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt at comforting her.

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I’ve heard all the names before. I—I never learned about those things.”

Sharon sighed softly as she slid the laptop back to Ada, who pulled it up eagerly. “So,” the ginger said tentatively, “you’re sure?”

“For the most part.”

Humming flatly, Sharon pulled out her phone, flipping through before staring up at Gilbert. “You, Gilbert, do you have classes on Friday?”

The man flinched and almost choked on an inhale. “Uh,” he sputtered, “only in the morning. Why?”

“Ada, your uncle gets off work early on Friday, right?” Sharon completely ignored him; it would’ve annoyed him if he wasn’t already feeling off about all of this.

“I think so,” the blonde said weakly. 

“Alright, that works. We’ll go ask him about it then.”

“Wait, I’m coming too?”

Sharon sighed once more. “Are you gonna say that after everything I include you in? Of course you’re coming, you’re stuck with this shit now.”

Gilbert winced, not exactly sure how he had gotten involved with Ada’s family history, but apparently now he wasn’t getting out of it easily. “Sorry.”

Gilbert arrived in his room later than he had said he would be back. That wouldn’t do.

“You—you liar! You smelly seaweed head!” Alice lashed out at him, floating around him at any and all angles he tried to whip his head away from her to.

“Seaweed head?” Gilbert repeated, flabbergasted. He was partially annoyed, partially guilty, but annoyed was taking over with each moment that her voice rang in his ears. “I tried to get back, something came up!”

“Liar! You’re lying and I know it!” Alice hissed angrily, tugging at the back of his jacket since she couldn’t do anything to actually whack at his skin.

“Stop that—!”

“What was it?”

Gilbert looked over to Oz and subtly noticed that Alice went still; he didn’t seem angry like her, but the boy was certainly downcast, even if he was doing his best to hide it. Fuck, that might be his fault.

“The—the thing that came up?” Gilbert asked, looking for clarification.

Oz nodded. “Mhm. What was it?”

Alice grumbled and shifted downwards, crossing her legs over each other as she seated herself beside Gilbert’s feet. He flinched slightly when she reached out and began to play with his shoelaces, but left her to herself when he realized she wasn’t doing it to mess with him.

“I met up with a few classmates,” he said exasperatedly, “to do some research. We were...looking at the university’s history.”

Oz stared for a moment, emerald gaze sharp and curious. “The history?” He repeated. Then, slower, “for class?”

“Well, not exactly,” the man stammered, almost pitifully. “I was—I wanted to know more. You guys...you said it was over a hundred years, and I—I got curious.”

“For us?” Oz asked daringly, moving closer to Gilbert; his brow furrowed slightly in a way that the man couldn’t place, but he still smiled ever so slightly. “Is that why?”

Gilbert swallowed dryly. “I—yeah, I guess so.”

“You’re kind, Gil.”

“What—? And where did Gil come from, seriously?”

Oz laughed, disappointingly reaching for Gilbert’s hand before it simply fazed through; the blond caught himself in a frown and shook it off, opting to gently latch at the edge of his sleeve instead. “I said you’re kind,” he repeated, “and it’s...a nickname. Do you not like it? I figured that, if we’re friends, it would be fine.”

“It—it's fine,” Gilbert muttered. Oz’s smile widened.

“I’m glad then! Gil it is.”

Alice glanced up, lightly poking at Oz’s leg. “It smells,” she said.

Oz let his fingers drop from Gilbert’s sleeve and he met Alice’s gaze below them. “Of?” He prompted.

The brunette’s nose scrunched up in disgust as she pulled herself to her feet and brushed off the front of her dress; it seemed to be an old habit that, quite literally, died hard. “Rotting wood.”

“I don’t smell anything,” Gilbert interjected, glancing around in order to search for the source; the school was feverishly well-kept, so even the thought of anything rotting was difficult to accept.

Oz shook his head. “Me neither,” he gently gripped Alice’s hand and squeezed it, “so it might be just her. Sometimes that happens—she’ll smell things, I’ll hear things. We don’t let it get to us.”

“We try not to,” Alice corrected, squeezing his hand back. She grimaced. “You’ve cried.”

The boy stiffened and for a moment it seemed as if his cheeks had gone dark—there was little color to be discerned, but Gilbert swore he saw it. “Yes, well,” he started, barely managing to stick a sentence together, “it just—that happens. I don’t know why, but it does. The things I hear aren’t even too scary, they’re just—well, they’re voices.”

“Do—what do they say?”

Oz looked up at Gilbert, running his free hand down the nape of his neck before looking away again. “They—they’re sick,” he said, barely audible. “Tell me I’m worthless. That no one could love someone like me.”

Gilbert felt his heart falter its rhythm and he reached out to comfort Oz only to remember that he fucking couldn’t as his fingers brushed against open air even though he could see the outline of a body so clearly before him. He retracted his hand, frustrated and defeated. “I’m sorry,” he offered, rubbing at his own wrist as if it would be sent some strange way to Oz instead of himself. “Anyone would cry if they heard that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your place to apologize,” Oz replied simply and huffed, the foreign air sending his bangs upward for merely a moment. Enough to move a few strands out of his eyes. 

Nothing else too notable happened between that moment and when Gilbert finally slipped into bed and fell asleep.

When Friday came around, Gilbert had found that he had fallen into a rhythm; he would chat with Oz and Alice in the mornings before class, spend most of his classes doing the usual (poor Ada was still a bit shaken from the other day, but hopefully that would be better soon, considering their outing today), and then he would head straight back to his dorm to spend more time with the two ghosts occupying his room. It was, frankly, a bit strange and disappointing to have become so attached to them—he knew that they were dead and that there was no possible way that this would last long, yet he couldn’t help but find the two charming in their own ways.

Alice was much more childish than Oz—she lashed out when things didn’t go her way and she quite liked whining about every little thing. Still, Gilbert, partially to his own despair, felt strongly about taking care of her. Of course, she was annoying and irritated him to no end, but that was part of her charm all the same. He couldn’t hate her for it, not one bit.

And then there was Oz—something about him just seemed to draw Gilbert in more and more until he was knee deep in something he couldn’t easily retreat from. He was kind and acted like every little thing was the most interesting thing in the world, especially when Gilbert spoke to him about whatever it was he was doing or working on. Yet Gilbert couldn’t shake the thought that he was hiding something; the man wanted to let him know that it was alright, that everything would be okay, but how could he say that? He didn’t have a clue what was going on with Oz—perhaps that was the reason he couldn’t help but want to dig deeper and find out for himself. Alice was tremendously easy to read when she was excited, upset, or bored, but Oz was much different. He liked to hide, Gilbert noticed, using a smile as a mask that he hid behind when he would probably rather be frowning. It was upsetting.

That, he figured, is probably the reason why he was in the car with two girls he met less than a week ago, on their way to visit one of their uncles.

“How far is it again?”

Ada glanced between her phone and Sharon’s face. “Um, around thirty minutes at most,” she said.

“Right,” Sharon replied.

Gilbert sighed quietly as he slid into the back seat of the car, leaving Sharon and Ada to share the front; he honestly preferred that, it would likely give him less of a spotlight between the two of them. For a moment, he was wrong.

“So,” Sharon hummed as she started the car and got herself fixed to drive, “are you guys, you know, a thing?”

Gilbert winced and looked up, seeing the way Sharon’s lips trembled with curiosity and excitement in the rear view mirror. “We—we aren’t,” he stated nervously, quickly glancing at Ada for confirmation.

The blonde was flushed dark red. “No!” She said exasperatedly, shaking her head quickly. “We’re just friends, Sharon, please.”

“Fine, fine!” Sharon laughed and began their journey out of the college parking lot. Finally. “You know I had to ask at some point, though. You can’t just not tell me if you get a boyfriend!”

“Oh my god,” Ada whispered, troubled, before the muffled rumble of the engine replaced their conversation. She opted to switch on the radio before the silence got too heavy, flipping through the stations until one piqued her interest.

Their trip was uneventful, filled with music that Gilbert rarely knew and small conversations that he was barely a part of. He had been scrolling through a bombardment of texts from Vincent when the car finally rolled to a stop and he glanced up; he wasn’t exactly expecting to be met face to face with a large, gated manor for her uncle’s house, but, well, he would just deal with it.

Shrubbery sprouted all along the tall metal fencing, medieval in style, that clearly indicated it hadn’t been properly cared for in a long, long time. He figured it was the type of building that housed many servants in the past, but probably only housed a few family members together now, in the modern day. Gilbert stared at the manor for a little longer than he liked, nostalgia unfamiliar to him welling up in his chest. He shook it off, placing it as interest in the building and its contents over anything troubling.

“You must be rich for your uncle to own something like this,” he said to Ada when they had stepped through the front gates. It was lighthearted and meant no harm.

Ada bit her lip. “It’s a bit annoying,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry for dragging you along like this. Sharon is—well, she’s like that sometimes.”

“It’s no problem,” Gilbert replied, shaking his head. He smiled down at her, hoping to provide some comfort at the very least. “I’m actually a little curious myself, I hope it’s not overstepping.”

“Not at all,” Ada said through a sigh of relief.

“Quit stalling, lovebirds!” Sharon’s voice cut through the two of them and she grinned at them from a ways away, further up the cobblestone path. Ada huffed at her remark, but decided to simply follow after her rather than quipping in return. 

The front door was much larger than it really needed to be, mahogany weathered from decades worth of wind and rain. That didn’t stop it from looking intimidating, though, even as Sharon’s small hand reached up and knocked the golden handle about as hard as she could; the metal clacked loud and the sound made Gilbert wince for the second time that evening.

For a moment, no one came to the door. Sharon grumbled, about to reach up and knock again when the numerous locks on the other side began to click open and the door creaked as it was pulled from its slumber.

“Oscar!” Ada chirped happily as a face peeked from between the wall and the door, the same bright blond hair donning his head—Gilbert noted that even his beard was that blinding shade of whitish-yellow.

“Ada!” Oscar’s voice was low and it felt like he was going to cause an earthquake with how he chuckled as he shouted, his large frame slinking between Sharon and Gilbert to capture his niece in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you so much! I see you’ve brought friends over, too!”

Ada laughed, though it sounded as if all the air had been knocked clean out of her lungs; at least she sounded happier, Gilbert thought. “I did, I did!” She repeated enthusiastically. Then, “but we’re not here just to hang out, uncle. Can we come in first?”

He released her from his grasp and nodded, first giving Sharon a firm handshake and a simple “nice to meet you, little lady” before doing the same with Gilbert. The only difference was that he eyed the man a bit, as if trying to pick him apart piece by piece. Gilbert smiled nervously until Oscar turned away and released his hand.

“Of course, make yourselves at home!”

The interior was just as intimidating as the outside, Gilbert decided, as they sat in a large front room, bookcases lining the walls all the way up to the ceiling. A golden chandelier hung over the center of the room, illuminating any areas that couldn’t be reached with the sunlight filtering through the tall windows. 

“So, what’s the reason you all decided to visit me, then?” Oscar asked, leaning back in his chair with a mug of coffee in hand. He propped up his ankle over his other knee.

“We—we found this site,” Ada started, nervously twirling her fingers around each other in her lap, “where it was talking about...the Vessalius family.” She swallowed and Oscar stilled for a moment, his charming demeanor turning more serious and intrigued. 

“Go on.”

“The—the um,” Ada sighed softly and shook her head. Gilbert frowned, opening his mouth to say something before Sharon cut him off.

“Excuse me,” she said simply. “The site was a forum site. The original message had been asking about the history of the university we all attend. Obviously, we aren’t sure how accurate any of the information we saw is, so we came to ask you.” She shifted and leaned forward the slightest bit over her knees. “They spoke of fairly recent events, from the past hundred years or so, give or take a few. That school building used to be something like this manor, correct?”

“That is,” Oscar answered slowly, taking a sip from the mug in his hand. “Was that information not given?”

Sharon shook her head. “For whatever reason, they claim to have built the college for that purpose alone. I wondered if they were hiding something with how hard they pushed that point, but I didn’t fully believe I was right.” She laughed, a dry and unamused laugh. It was almost scary. “There were rumors of kidnappings. Two powerful families butting their heads together and doing whatever they could to gain social status above the other. Again, am I correct?”

Oscar chuckled, yet it held a similar tone to Sharon’s earlier one. “Correct again,” he said. “I see where you’re going with this. Let me explain it to you how I was told by every generation before me.” He leaned over, gently setting his cup of coffee down on the glass table before him. “Sometime around one hundred years ago, there were two families that had gained enough social status and power that they were feared. Those families were the Vessalius family and the Baskerville family.

“The two families constantly feuded with one another. They wanted to be number one—to be the only reigning family throughout the area. They had enough money and status to do horrible things, things that would go under the radar. Things like kidnapping, arson, and even murder. They had both bribed their way straight to the devil’s doors.”

“That’s—that’s awful,” Ada whispered, hands trembling as she balled them into fists.

“It is,” Oscar agreed, “but it happened. There was a story about the son and daughter of each family—they had met on an outing and became quick friends. Very close, like they were siblings themselves. Neither of them knew that the other was a technical enemy. Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“Romeo and Juliet…?” Gilbert asked, his brow furrowed at the center. He swallowed nothing and tried not to stiffen his posture. “Then they were in—in love?”

“Not at all, but you are correct about the Romeo and Juliet part. Their story is strikingly similar.” Oscar sighed and reached for another sip of coffee. “The children met often at a public garden—it was like their secret hideout. There, they would play together and chat about life. There was no threat of family or the outside world.

“However, I’m sure you were aware of how this story takes a turn. One day, the Baskerville family had the son kidnapped. They would teach the Vessalius family a lesson. He was kept in a remote location, locked in a sturdy wooden room with no escape. His kidnappers constantly watched over him as they were instructed.

“Though, the kidnappers became fed up with waiting. They tortured the child, taking out their frustrations on him. They would beat him until he was bruised and bloody. They even branded him like livestock, using a branding rod to burn the image of a clock onto his chest as a reminder of what little time he had left.

“The poor girl had no idea what torture her friend was going through. She cried day and night, alone in her locked room. One day, she had enough. The girl took her own life, devastated by the loneliness consuming her heart.

“The Baskerville family found their daughter hanging in her room and were infuriated. They believed that she had been murdered by the hands of the Vessalius family and presented to them under the pretense of a suicide. Devastated and enraged, they ordered for the death of the Vessalius son. The house he was being held in was set aflame—locked inside, he could do nothing but scream and cry as it got hotter and hotter. Miraculously, he suffered no burn injuries. Instead, the thick air had suffocated him before the flames had a chance.

“Apparently, the two ended up being buried together. There were no headstones or grave markers, so the only way to be certain would be to go digging them up, and I’m sure you all understand why we couldn’t do that. It’s unknown who buried them together or how that person knew of their friendship, though. Interesting, isn’t it?”

“Are you expecting us to believe that?” Sharon asked, skeptical written across her face. “That sounds like quite the horror story for you to have made up.”

Oscar hummed and shifted, the sunlight casting over his thinly-framed glasses and bouncing onto the glass table. “I understand why you’d think that,” he said, “but it’s a tale passed down. I heard it from my father and he heard it from his father. The Vessalius family line only continued on after the death of their son because they furiously had another.”

“So then the university is the former Baskerville residence?” Gilbert asked.

Oscar nodded. “It is.”

“Then—what happened? Why is this manor still up but theirs isn’t?”

“The Baskerville family died out,” the older man explained. “They stopped trying for their lineage to continue, eventually losing all of their power and social status.”

“That’s awful,” Ada whispered again, tears trickling down her cheeks. “That’s horrible. Awful. It’s inhuman.”

Sharon reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured. “It’s in the past.”

“That doesn’t make it any less cruel,” Ada sobbed.

“I know,” Oscar said, voice softer now, “but you can’t change it. It’s in the past—they’ve done well to cover the history, apparently. I suppose it only runs in the Vessalius family now.”

There was a pause, Sharon comforting Ada as she cried into her shoulder. Gilbert wracked through his brain to collect all the pieces and put them together while Oscar let them be, sipping still on his warm coffee. It made sense, in a way, yet didn’t all the same.

“Oh, and one other thing.” Oscar carefully stood from his chair and walked across the room over to a large desk. He rummaged through the drawers for a moment before pulling out a golden pocket watch, holding it out to them. “This watch is supposedly the exact watch that the boy had kept with him at all times. You can see that it’s a bit melted on one side—it’s a miracle they were able to salvage it. Most of his other belongings had been stolen or went up in flames.”

“I don’t want it,” Ada said, shaking her head pitifully. “It’s horrible.”

Sharon gently patted her back and then looked to Gilbert. “If you want it,” she said, “you can have it.”

Gilbert glanced between them and Oscar. “Er, may I?” He asked sheepishly, holding out a hand for him to drop the watch into. Doing so, Oscar chuckled.

“I was looking to get rid of that thing anyway. Don’t feel bad about keeping it.”

“R-right, sure. Thank you.” Gilbert looked down at the dull pattern across the golden frame, brushing the pad of his thumb against the indents. It was slightly lopsided where it had melted, but some sort of sentiment forced Gilbert to keep it.

It was dangerously close to dusk by then, the three politely refusing offerings of dinner and more small talk as they headed on their way out. They had already overstayed their welcome, despite what Oscar said, and decided that it would be best to simply head home. After all, some of them still had homework to finish.

The trip home was gruesome. It was heavy silence, not even the sound of a radio to cut through it. The three of them parted ways with simple goodbyes, obviously needing the time to themselves.

Gilbert trudged back to his dorm, exhausted from the tsunami of information he had been hit with that day, both from classes and their little outing.

“Gil!” Oz’s cheery voice reached his ears and the man found himself smiling within an instant. It was almost unfair. “You’re finally back! Jeez, we were getting so bored.”

“Seaweed head!” Alice rushed towards him as soon as he opened the door, causing him to flinch backwards. “You’re late! Again!”

“I—I’m sorry,” Gilbert said, laughing quietly as he stepped in and shut the door behind him. “I went on a little...field trip, of sorts.”

“The hell? So you think you can just leave us?” Alice frowned and began her daily assault on his clothes, tugging and pulling as hard as she could without actually ripping or ruining them. Gilbert grumbled a bit, annoyed, but let her be for a moment.

Oz made his way over, swatting Alice away from her place latched onto Gilbert’s shirt. “Where’d you go?” He asked curiously.

“Out,” Gilbert replied simply. “I went to visit a friend’s relative. Apparently there’s more history to this college than they let on.”

“You look tired,” Oz noted.

“I am,” Gilbert said.

Oz laughed a bit and took a step back. “Too tired to talk with us?”

“Not at all.”

“Hmm.” Oz hummed and tilted his head to the side. “What did you find out?”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

“Huh?”

Gilbert sighed softly, plopping down onto his bed; his feet ached for no real reason—he hadn’t even walked that much more than usual that day. “The play—it’s a bad influence. That’s what I learned.”

“How ominous,” Oz said as he sat himself beside Gilbert. Alice grumbled at her exclusion and scrambled on the bed behind them, leaning against Oz’s back.

“Do the names Vessalius or Baskerville mean anything to you…?”

Oz stilled for a moment and Gilbert held his breath. “Vessalius?” The boy repeated in a whisper. He looked as though he was trembling. “How could I—no, why…? Where did you hear that?”

“So then, you actually know?”

“Gil, is that what you learned? About this school? Was that family involved?”

Gilbert furrowed his brow slightly. “Uh, yes, but—”

“Baskerville!” Alice shouted suddenly, and Gilbert swore he almost jumped out of his own skin. “That’s it! That’s fuckin’ it!” She leaped up on the bed and gripped the back of Oz’s shoulders. “I remembered! I remembered, Oz! It’s Baskerville!”

Oz yelped a bit, grabbing Alice’s wrists so she would stop shaking them. He was about to scold her for that when he turned and stopped dead in his tracks.

She was crying.

“Alice…?” He whispered.

Alice shook her head quickly and tackled Oz in a tight hug. “I forgot,” she rasped weakly, suddenly much more fragile than Gilbert had ever seen her. “I forgot you. I’m sorry. I was so lonely. I don’t want to be alone again. I’m sorry.”

“Alice?” Oz wrapped his arms around her small torso and hugged back, lightly patting her head. “Why are you crying? I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Don’t leave me.”

Gilbert leaned forward a bit, as if to knock his head against hers. “Alice?” He asked quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

Alice looked over at him, sniffling as she let go of Oz and wiped at her eyes. “W-what?”

“What do you remember?”

The tears almost threatened to spill again, the brunette doing her best to fight through them. “I—I remember bits and pieces. I think it’s coming back. Oz—he was my best friend. He stopped visiting me one day and I got so lonely. I...couldn’t live without him. I couldn’t.”

“Alice—did you…?”

Alice balled her hands into fists, digging the nails into her palms. “I did. I couldn’t, Gilbert, I just couldn’t. It was so lonely!”

“Hey, hey!” Gilbert waved his hands and then did his best to calm her. “I understand, I promise. It’s okay, Alice. I think I...might have something of Oz’s then.” He frowned a bit, thinking of the things Oscar had told him if this was all correct. He pulled the pocket watch out and pushed it towards Oz, who took it tentatively and ran it over in his hands.

“This,” he said slowly, “is mine. It’s my pocket watch. How did you…?”

“The friend’s relative,” Gilbert explained. “He’s a Vessalius. So...you really are Oz Vessalius then, huh?”

Oz’s breath hitched as he felt a throbbing of pain in his head, then what felt like someone stabbing him as it all started coming back. Like Alice, tears began pooling in his eyes and he trembled as he clutched for the golden watch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “It hurt,” he whispered. “It hurt so fucking bad. They—they kept me there for days, Gil. I barely ate.”

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert said, attempting to hold his hand to no avail. Alice reached in his stead and gave it a squeeze. “I really am.”

“Oz,” Alice whispered, “I am too. I didn’t know, I—I would’ve helped! I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything!” She sniffled again, holding Oz’s hand as tight as he was holding the watch. One hand shifted from the gold to lace her fingers with his, though.

“It’s okay, Alice. It’s okay, Gilbert.”

“Is it?” Gilbert asked, wavering.

“Maybe it’s not,” Oz replied with a weak laugh. “But...it’s what happened. Can't change the past. I’ll be okay. Thank you, really.”

“Are you going to disappear?”

“I don’t know.”

Alice frowned. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to disappear! Not again!”

Oz smiled slightly, staring down at his feet for a moment. “I don’t think we’ll be going anytime soon.”

“How can you be so sure?” Gilbert asked.

“I think we’re tied to you, somehow,” Oz said. “Like some kind of fate. Maybe you’re supposed to be our savior or something like that.”

Gilbert faltered. “That...would be a strange fate.”

“I don’t think I would mind that.”

“Me neither!” Alice added, beaming through tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes.

“Well, I think I’m going to ace my history exam,” Gilbert muttered after a moment of passing silence, a poor attempt at lightening the mood but Alice and Oz laughed anyway.

“We’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Oz added. “At least what we can remember.”

“That’s more than enough, Oz.”

“You think so?”

Gilbert hummed and nodded, watching the two of their hazy outlines flicker in the sunlight. “I do.”