Day 8.
Nathan didn't care anymore.
He didn't feel alone.
Nathan was cooking dinner, humming quietly to himself.
Eggs. Fried rice. A comfort meal, cheap and filling.
The pan sizzled.
Then it shivered.
He frowned. Reached to adjust the heat.
But the knob turned on its own, lowering to a gentle simmer.
He blinked.
"...Thanks?"
He didn't expect an answer.
Didn't need one either.
He was already used to the weirdness.
---
Later that night, he sat at his desk, sketching.
He'd found an old charcoal pencil buried in the drawer earlier. Looked untouched, like it had been waiting.
He didn't question it.
The lines came easy tonight.
Curved strokes, soft shading, something…familiar.
Halfway through, he realized what he was drawing:
A hand. Slender. Resting palm up, reaching.
Not begging.
Inviting.
He stared at it.
The pencil slipped.
A chill crawled across his nape.
And then--
A hand. On his shoulder.
Not cold.
Warm.
Fingers traced his spine, slow, like someone testing where he'd twitch.
Nathan held his breath.
Didn't move. Didn't speak.
Let it happen.
The hand stopped at the small of his back. Rested there.
Weightless, but real.
Not a threat.
A test.
Nathan leaned back, just a little.
The touch disappeared.
But the heat lingered.
He glanced at the mirror near the hallway,his reflection… unchanged.
Except for the faint smudge. Like a fingerprint. On the glass.
Right where a shoulder might rest.
He always go for a night shower before going to bed, after taking one, he faced the mirror.
The mirror had fogged up again.
Nathan stood in front of it, still naked from the shower, towel hanging low on his hips. He knew the ghost was there, he felt him.
A cold hand curled around his waist from behind, the towel pulled away with one effortless tug. He didn't fight it. His eyes locked onto the glass as invisible fingers traced the dips and curves of his torso.
At first he flinched, this was his first time ever feeling it around him like this. His curiosity got the best of him, rather than the fact that the ghost can actually touch him.
With his naked body in front of the mirror, his body started to burn, his face flushed, and every cold touch sends shiver down his spine. But he didn't tell it to stop, yet, he let it do anything to his body.
And finally, Nathan couldn't stand the heat running through his body, he finally spoke.
"You want me to watch?" Nathan asked breathlessly.
On the fogged mirror, one word appeared, slow and deliberate.
"Y E S"
His heart slammed into his ribs.
The ghost's hands slid lower, framing his shaft, thumbs digging in just enough to make him shiver. Then, press. A slow, rhythmic grind against his back, not rough, but firm, claiming. The outline of his own body trembled in the reflection, hips being pulled, guided.
He gasped, gripping the sink edge with white knuckles. His lips parted as something teased along his inner thigh, invisible but real, so real.
His reflection looked ruined. Flushed cheeks. Trembling legs. Half-lidded eyes already glazed. He was being taken apart, touch by ghostly touch, and the mirror made sure he saw it all.
"You want to claim me?.." he waited but there was no answer. Then--
"You like ruining me…" he whispered, watching himself unravel.
The words appeared again.
"YOU'RE MINE TO RUIN"
A sudden slap to his ass made him jolt forward, moaning aloud. Then, the ghost got a grip on his shaft, slick, slow strokes that left him panting, grinding helplessly against the air. His hips moved without shame, matching the ghost's rhythm.
He thought he was out of his mind for feeling so aroused by the ghostly touch. The way the coldness on his shaft felt amazingly, got him on the edge. His hips were now uncontrollable, grinding, thrusting, in the air. Trying to hit something he can't see, but feel.
Seeng as Nathan's deeply engrossed by its touch, the strokes became much more intense. Nathan threw his head back, feeling the intensity of the strokes. Then a cold breath brushed his ear:
"COME FOR ME, NATHAN."
And he did, eyes open, lips parted, face twisted in raw, vulnerable pleasure as he painted the mirror.
Even when it faded, the message remained:
"GOOD BOY."
He can't believe, that his ghost roommate just made him came. Something he never experienced with his past relationships. Or the thrill of something unknown, something new, ignited what was dormant in his body.
Nathan took a shower again. This time, he didn't felt its presence. He wiped himself dry, and to his surpise, a hot milk was already on the table.
"...Thanks." He can't help but smile as he took it. He never thought that a ghost would treat him better than any humans could.
After everything that happened in the bathroom, he knew it was only the beginning of something that would slowly unravel him.