Beneath Our Disguises

Ghosted (Poltergeist x Reader)- Part 1

(Poltergeist x Reader)

It had started with small things in your dingy flat.

A book on the floor, something small out of place, a window just a little open. Things that you thought you had forgotten about or done on accident. That was until the first message appeared, drawn in the condensation on your mirror after a lengthy shower.

"Looking Beautiful Darling" Signed with only a cursive L. It had scared the shit out of you, that first one. Terrified that someone had entered your apartment while you were showering, that they had seen you in the shower, or worse, if they were still there.

Hurriedly you had changed, cleansing the mirror of the hauntingly written message with your sleeve before wrapping yourself in a robe and searching every inch of your apartment. But the windows were locked, door untouched, and nothing out of place. There was no way for someone to have snuck in, but the unease plagued you for days after.

The next message was harder to ignore, traced on the counter in your least favorite eyeliner. That little liquid one that never got the angles but you couldn't bring yourself to throw it out as a "waste of money", sure you would use it someday. After scrubbing the message and little pool of black ink from where it had been left open next to the sink, you had no problem throwing it in the trash. The second message had you wondering though, it was written upside down. Like a hand had reached out of the mirror to paint it on the smooth surface. Just like the condensation though, it was signed with that cursive L.

You knew this time, that it couldn't have been someone breaking into your flat, but that meant there were 3 options. 1, someone was already there when you had gotten home, was possibly still there and had snuck past you in your bedroom to write that on the counter with the eyeliner. Improbable but absolutely terrifying. 2 was you were hallucinating and had cleaned it up, potentially a nervous breakdown of some sort. 3, a ghost or some kind of spirit was haunting your freaking bathroom. Groaning out loud you sink onto the edge of the bath tub, staring at the counter and hoping that the pile of tissues in the trash would just disappear like your sanity.

Your eyes flicker to the mirror, the first point of contact. You have sunk so low in the tub that your own head isn't visible, but in that reflection is someone or something else entirely. His eyes were staring at you, watching you carefully with his mouth set in a grim line, one hand slowly reaching towards you through that stupid silver mirror. 

You shoot to your feet in the next instant, but as soon as your own reflection is in the mirror you can't see him anymore, he's just gone. Blinking slowly, breath battered in your chest with what was happening. You were going insane, ghosts aren't real, they can't exist because if they did then. . . then. 

Your feet carry you forward unbidden, leaning against the counter you are so close to the mirror that the only thing really visible is your own face. Reaching forward with trembling fingers you touch the glass, touch where his face had been for that brief moment. Your fingers tingled against the eerily chilly mirror, leaving the barest of finger prints as you pull away. But in the smudge of fog left by your breath, slowly, a little smiley face is drawn. The two dots traced over to make eyes, and the slow spread of a smile traced to connect them.

Stumbling away you feel the backs of your knees meet the porcelain tub, sending you straight back to bang your head against the shower wall, almost pulling down the curtain as you crash into the tub. Groaning you hold the aching spot of your head, trying to process how you ended up in this position. Your feet in the air, head in the stars, and aches everywhere your body touches the basin.

Your eyes slowly focus themselves back on the mirror and there he stands again, a look of concern trying to cover an obvious laugh. His hands were pressed against the mirror, like he was trying to get out to help you, but he was. . . trapped. Even as he pushed on the mirror and you could see the slight strain in his arms, he was trapped behind the now invisible barrier. In his own version of the bathroom. 

You stare at him unashamedly, the man was in your bathroom after all. His eyes were trained on you, a silver like the edge of the mirror, his hair was a messy dirty mop atop his head, shirt torn and stained to reveal what had most likely once been a bullet hole. His head and face were slightly bloodied too, but those were dried like it had been a little while since his head was hit, but the bullet wound. It looked like it may still be sluggishly bleeding, like maybe that was what had killed him. His outfit, the button down and black pants were a good fit, but the empty holster slung from his shoulder was a bit more disturbing to the image he created. It must have been how he looked the moment he died.

Your eyes travel back to his face, a slow smirk spread across his lips as he leans away from the mirror now, you can't help but roll your eyes in response. A flush creeps across your face slowly at first, realization hitting you like a train, this ghost was living in your bathroom this whole time. He had been living there since the moment you moved in! He had seen you naked way too many times for comfort as the man just casually shoves his hands in his pockets, waiting for your next move.

The struggle to escape the tub was not an expected one, it was clumsy and awkward in clothes, and as you rise to be visible in the mirror again, he is gone. You wonder. . . slowly, against protesting knees and an aching head, you sink into a squat until you are below the edge again, and he is back. Raising just one hand until your finger tips are visible, the instant you could see them, he was gone again.

"So I can only see you when I can't see myself is that?" You wonder allowed, not expecting any kind of response. To your surprise though he nodded, his face dropped to almost a scowl, watching you carefully.

"You . . you can hear me?" You whisper, shock and mortification coming over your face. All the things he must have heard from the shower, what he must have seen. . Oh god that's not good. Blushing fiercely you run a hand through your hair, wincing at the feeling of the growing bump on the back of your head.

"Of course you can," You breathe, confused by the mirror. "How. . how is this. . . how come I can not see us at the same time?" You start with, questions racing through your head faster than you can formulate them to ask.

In the mirror he gestures like he is writing something in the air, so he could hear you but couldn't say anything back, or at least if he did, you wouldn't hear him. Biting your lip you think for a moment before standing, what the hell were you even thinking, as you go to grab pen and paper for the ghost in the mirror to talk to you.