The Tale of the Mansion

Coexist

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, literally had zero inspiration.

The ghostly man looked at Mr. Cheese, weighing his options. He could either care for the young man that had passed out in front of him, risking the reveal or he could leave him be. A part of him felt bad to even be thinking of leaving Mr. Cheese on the floor. He let out a soft sigh, picking up Mr. Cheese. Mr. Cheese's body shivered at the haunting touch, but he didn't awaken to jostling of his now limp body. The ghost let out a sigh of relief.

"Now to get him to the couch," the ghost murmurs, gently setting him there once in the living room. "Maybe I should make this chap a cup of t--"

Mr. Cheese groaned as he sat up, then gasping at the sight of one of his signed baseballs falling. "Nope! Not that--" He looked at the item that had fallen into his hands. It was a signed baseball, one that had his best friend name written in his delicate signature. It was worn with time, slightly yellow from nicotine and dust.

"Huh... Collecting dust. Just like the pictures of my very best friend. I wonder if he had his happy ending yet, like I told him he would have. The happy ending he deserved, but told me he'd never get. Is he even still alive?" Mr. Cheese was murmuring to himself as he put the ball back. He sighed, going back to unpacking his stuff. He shivers, a cold, harsh chill making its way down his spine.

He felt the ghosts presence again, and he sucked in a large breath. "Go away, you are not welcome here!"

"This is my house, you imbecile! You moved here, rearranged my furniture and you STILL have the audacity to be mad at me?"

"Well, newsflash, imbecile! You're dead! The world moves on, even when you aren't around! It moves on when you're crying, grieving... When you're begging for an answer why! This is my house. So show yourself and stop destroying my things!"  Mr. Cheese feels himself get pushed back, kieling over and gripping his chest.

The ghost could be heard heavily breathing and the room drops in temperature. Mr. Cheese backs up, but the ghost moves closer. Mr. Cheese shook.

"Crying now? I thought you said the world moves on? Hm? Now get out!"

"I mean what I said. I wouldn't be so mad if you stopped destroying my things," Mr. Cheese looked the ghost dead in his eyes. The ghost still goes closer. "Go ahead, hit me for speaking the truth. I fucking dare you."

"...I won't. I guess we should talk like the adults we are." The ghost sighed and decided to make himself visible. He pushed up his glasses. "Well, what's your name, chap?"

"My name Mr. Cheese! Or Emmental!" Mr. Cheese grinned, puffing out his chest and pointing to himself.

"I do not wish to reveal my actual name to you, but you may refer to me as TheGentleman," TheGentleman sat on the counter and crossed his legs.

"Well, why not?"

"That is for me to know, and to eventually tell you," TheGentleman crossed his arms.

"Now I have a rather inva--"

"How'd I die?"

"Yep! How did you know?" Mr. Cheese asked, eyes brightening a little bit.

"...I'm a ghost. That's. Kinda the first question everyone asks," TheGentleman snarked, rolling his eyes.

"You seem happy."

"I'm not."

"I was being sarcastic, silly!" Mr. Cheese stuck out his tongue at TheGentleman, and TheGentleman facepalmed.

"Riiiiiight. Would you like a cup of tea?" TheGentleman offered, beginning to make one for himself.

"Sure! That would be nice. Earl grey?"

TheGentleman pursed his lips. "Good taste, good taste."

Mr. Cheese laughed. "I'm guessing that's your favorite too, you British stereotype."

"...Maybe living with you isn't so bad after all."

"You've got the spirit!"

"I take what I said back. I hate you," TheGentleman scowls at Mr. Cheese. However, he let out a small chuckle, unable to help himself.

  Mr. Cheese grinned and got stuff out to make cookies.

"Oh! Are you making biscuits?"

"No, I'm making charcoal."

"Oh," TheGentleman says, "If you need help with baking, I can help you!"

"I was joking."

TheGentleman cringed. "Oh."

Mr. Cheese laughed a little. "It's okay, duuuude."

"You sound like a Stoner."

"I'm not a geologist!"

"A stoner is a p-- Oh, you're referring to something, aren't you?" TheGentleman asked, tilting his head.

"Oh! It's an in-joke I have with one of my online friends. His name is Rocco, but he also calls himself Stoner. I hang out with him often when I'm around the area," Mr. Cheese whips around, an idea hitting his mind. "Oh!! I should have him and Eric come over!"

"Who's Eric?" TheGentleman asked.

"He's an online friend of mine, but most know him as Veteran. Him and I collab often."

"Collab?"

"Oh! Him and I are streamers on Twitch, though I also make music along side that!" Mr. Cheese rattled on about his passions, infodumping a little bit about himself to TheGentleman.

The kettle beeps and TheGentleman poured the tea into mugs. "Interesting."

"Are you being sarcastic or...?"

"No, no! I'm genuinely interested. You're an interesting person," TheGentleman gave a smile at Mr. Cheese. "I'm sorry for pushing you earlier, by the way."

"Nah, I was being a douchebag to you," Mr. Cheese sat on the counter next to TheGentleman.

"I actually am sorry, though. I could have seriously hurt you."

"But you didn't."

"But I didn't..." TheGentleman echoed, looking down. "I'm glad I didn't."

"Me too."

"Well, duh."

Mr. Cheese playfully punches TheGentlemans shoulder, and TheGentleman laughed. TheGentleman, in turn, ruffled his hair. 

Time went by, and the cookies were about as forgotten as the fight.