"Hello, hello! Night four! Not many people make it past night three... Heh, you almost didn't," His only answer was the slurp of more espresso, caffeine, and sugar concentrated in one drink than recommended in a lifetime, "Right. You almost made me forget how little you talk when we chatted last, heheh... It was like we were friends," He's silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was slightly disappointed, "Heh. But we aren't," He trailed off leadingly again. I glanced at my phone and saw a minute had passed, and that yes, he was still there.

I sighed, "We can be. We're both off evenings, aren't we? Why don't we go out for dinner together or something?"

"That sounds great! Meet at the school, at five, and we can go to Heaven's Gate!" He said way too excitedly for having thought I didn't have a respectful bone in my body, "Er, that is, if you survive tonight... Uh, suggestion number four! Don't, under any circumstances, look at the man in the corner... whatever that means. Heh, the silent man typically stands in corners, too, but maybe she was talking about the shadow man... Good luck! See you at our date!"

"It's not a-" I stop talking, the click leaving me gaping at the school, "Are... you... fucking me?" I asked in exasperation, stalking up to the school. I tugged on the doors until they unlocked.

"You're half an hour early," The chatterbox commented idly.

I take a large drink of coffee, "You're the one who unlocked the doors," I commented before I remembered that I wasn't supposed to talk to him, "Oops. I mean... insert bland silence where I ignore your existence here..." I awkwardly correct.

"You can't take back words, you already talked to me. Why don't you speak to me, anyway?"

I shrugged, he was right, "Phone guy suggested it. Said I was walking disrespect, that I'd probably live longer if I remained silent and didn't talk to you. Pretty sure he's right, since, you know, he's phone guy. He knows everything."

"You mean your boss? Jeremy?"

"... Wasn't his name... Michael?" I asked, staring at my coffee cup for a moment. I texted him, "Hey, what's your full name?"

"Michael Jeremiah Afton. Most people call me Jeremy, though. You can call me Mike

I bit the tip of my tongue as I stared at my phone for a long time, "Yeah. No," I put my phone away, "Phone guy. Knows everything." I took a long drink of my coffee, before turning and trying to open the once again locked door of the janitor's closet.

"No, you were talking to me! Plus, it's not even midnight yet, you have time," The chatterbox complained, "Here," He snapped his fingers, and I gave the clean walls and floors a curious look, "There. No more mess. You can talk to me now!"

I observe the plain light grey shirt, casual blue jeans, and oddly fancy sneakers that I didn't doubt cost a lot of money, had he not been a ghost. His arms weren't untan, but it wasn't a dark tan, and his hands were calloused. My gaze went up to take in his wide shoulders, and I frowned for a moment before shaking my head. It didn't matter that his feet were flat on the ground and his shoulders were taller than me. I was average-sized, damn it, I shouldn't have a napoleon complex. Especially for a damned ghost!

"No? What do you mean no?" The chatterbox whined.

"I didn't say no, I was silently judging you. Slight difference. But sure, yeah, whatever, what do you want to talk about?" I asked, wandering the halls, glancing at his work done in the snap of his fingers. That was... not the strength of a ghost. Just what the hell was he? Was he /actually/ a demon?

"You can't judge me when you've never seen my face," The chatterbox grumbled good-naturedly, which was odd, since that means that he, a killer and ghost, was better natured than I'd ever been. I remain silent, and we walked side-by-side in silence as he sulked. Which was good for me, I guessed.

After a moment I spoke quietly, "I wasn't judging your looks."

"You were looking me up and down, frowned and shook your head, and you're saying it wasn't because of my looks?" He asked after a small pause.

I glanced at his hands, which were hanging out of his pockets, before looking back to the hallways, walls, and doorways, "Yup," I slapped him on the back without much thought,

"You're the one who wanted me to acknowledge you, puppy dearest, you have to deal with my quirks."

"Puppy dearest?"

"You follow me around, whining for attention like a lovesick puppy," I shrugged, "Which, I mean, I get. Being a ghost stuck to haunting some stupid ass school must suck."

"Watch your words," His voice was oddly calm for his typically upbeat demeanor.

"You either deal with my words or deal with my silence. I don't mince words," I deadpanned, "So, choose, dude. Do you want me to avoid talking to you, hence keeping from insulting you, or do you want me to talk to you?"

I paused as he stood in front of me, blinking slowly at the teleportation. Right, a murder ghost.

"You must have a kind side, if your brother and his friends like you, and Jeremy sent you a heart," He insisted.

"..." I observe the tiles beneath my feet for a moment, "They don't."

"What?"

"I'm my brother's cash-cow, and we went through some shit together, he sticks with me because I'm the only family he has left. My brother's friends don't like me. Jeremy is weird, I don't know why he wants to be my friend all of a sudden, but it probably won't last. Maybe he’s a masochist," I shrugged, eyes observing the tiles passing beneath my feet for a moment longer before lifting to go back to observing the halls, "So yeah, silence or words?"

"I don't believe you."

"..." I sighed, incredulous, but my face remaining blank, "What?"

"I don't believe you. I believe you think you're telling the truth, but the way your brother speaks to you isn't the way someone only using another for money and familial connection does."

I don't bother responding, just shaking my head. It was a rocky relationship between us, which started out as instant hatred and bred into camaraderie based on insulting each other and being brutally honest with each other after we both got too tired to fight or hate each other anymore. It, funnily enough, started off because of racism. You'd think me, being the white one, would have been racist, but it was, in fact, him. I grinned at the memory.

/We were at a Denny's, in the town of water parks to celebrate the two new additions to the rag-tag family. The boy about the same size as me, but three years younger, William, my new younger brother, was playing with my two older sisters. He held onto a ball, and they tried getting it out of his clenched hand. It looked fun, so I walked around the table,

"Can I play?" I asked.

He frowned at me, "No."

I frowned back, hurt, "Why not?"

"Because you're white."

Slumped, I went back to my seat next to my mom, and she asked what was wrong. Telling her, she made him let me play. I only played once, because he didn't want to play anymore. Saddened, but understanding, I handed his ball back and went back to my seat./

After that, we were always at each others' throats, until we both simultaneously became too tired to fight each other besides every once in a while. Almost becoming friends, that ended when pranks went too far, and we fought again, having to be separated once more. About a week later, we talked it over, and that was that. We weren't friends, but something weird and other, that didn't particularly have a name, and certainly wasn't the sibling relationship that we both legally were. It was more like we were school friends that went through shit together, than anything else.

"What are you thinking about? You've been grinning at the floor for a while now," The chatterbox asked, somehow making that sound like a complaint.

My smile twitched, before fading. It was all long gone, now, and all we had left was brutal honesty and constant joking criticisms… And the apocalypse, "Just thinking about my brother. He's really awesome, you know? If the world didn't crash and burn, he could've been famous and everyone would've adored him. I'm so proud of him. ... I hope he's okay."

"Why wouldn't he be? He's at your house sleeping, isn't he?"

"Er, yeah, but there's KKK in town, and they might go after him- I've already, you know, told them that he was my slave, and stuff, so that they didn't kill him, but the world is kind of crazy. When the MMM comes into town he claims me as his slave, which is kinda weird, but you know, needs must, and all that," I take a drink of my half-forgotten coffee.

"Your brother... is... black? Adoption or step-brother?" The ghost asked, and I stumbled, coughing on the sip of coffee.

"Adopted," I answer after getting my feet and lungs back in working order. /What are you doing, step-ladder?/ comes to mind, and I chuckled, shaking my head, "Yeah, certainly adopted."

I walk into him, and almost glance up before catching myself and looking back at my cup of coffee. It's silent for a moment, and I ignore his sigh at my refusal to look at his face, knowing my eyes would immediately betray me just to glance at his. I take a small step back, and drink another sip of my coffee.

"Tell me about him."

"Hah, what's there to say?" I asked with a shrug, before shifting and continuing on my walk with the chatterbox as I gushed about my younger brother, a smile or grin always on my face. By the time I'm done talking about him, I glance at my phone, and stop at the time. Oh, it was almost dawn. That was kind of bad. Glancing around, I noted that we were on the opposite side of the school to the exit, and an app on my phone told me it was a few minutes until sunrise. My coffee had been empty for a while.

"You really love your brother, huh?" The man asked after a long moment of silence, where we walked towards the exit.

"Well," I immediately refute with a grimace, "Neither he nor I use that word all too much. It's too overused, and too over-exaggerated, but yeah, I care for him. It doesn't work both ways, obviously," I take a sip from my empty cup, refusing to admit that it was empty in the hopes that it might not be one sip, far in the future, "But eh. Sorry- I didn't mean to talk the entire time about my younger bro. I talk too much on caffeine, I guess."

"In that case you should drink caffeine every night. I enjoyed hearing you speak to me, and learning about your brother," He said as we stopped right next to the exit. I ducked my head, chuckling awkwardly.

"Right... Uh, bye..." I turned and left, jogging to my car to help the cold winds brush against my burning face. Maybe I'd drank too much coffee, I was overheating. I ignored the voice in the back of my mind explaining calmly that I had bought iced coffee, not hot coffee. As an afterthought, I texted phone guy just before driving out of the parking lot, "Morning! I'm alive." Music hums through the car as I speed towards home.