“Oh, don’t be such a child. How old are you? You’re a college drop-out so you’re an adult at least. You need to learn that life fucking sucks. There are, like, three ways to deal with it and I think you’ll pick the smarter one by following my advice. I didn’t go to college but I had a successful online job, why couldn’t you do the same? Or... I mean, you don’t have to do shit.”

Picking up the mug from the table with as much strength as he could and set it in the sink before heading to the living room, taking a seat on the leather couch and turning on the television without even the click of the remote.
 
"Don't call me a child. You got fucking teary-eyed over a couple of your books being thrown away. You're dead. People are going to throw your shit in the trash, get over it," came the equally harsh response. It was uncharacteristic of Nyle to be anything but happy and cheery, but he'd gone through a lot in a short space of time that day - he felt he was justified in acting a little out of character.

"I'm watching the Kardashians, alright? I don't care if you'd rather watch some boring antiques show. This is my house too, so... so I get to watch what I want."
 
“I told you I like that show, we’re you not listening?” He grunted, his brows knitting together in aggravation. Twisting the bottom of his top, he locked his eyes on said antique show with a frown. With just the flick of his finger, the channel began to change until reaching the cooking channel.

“It isn’t thought-provoking, don’t pretend it is. I like cooking shows. I wish I focused on eating proper food when I was alive, I’d fill my body with nutrition rather than cheap snacks and ramen... I’d be lying if I said the shit wasn’t delicious, though. If I didn’t kill myself, they probably would.”
 
"You like the show, yet you called it 'mindless garble'. Doesn't seem like a ringing endorsement, does it?" He countered, sinking back when the cooking show came onto screen. While he couldn't sit and bingewatch a tonne of them in one go, they were decent to watch-- though his only experiences of doing so came either when he was drunk and had come home, or if it was a Sunder afternoon spent lounging on the couch.

"...I dunno, eating healthily is boring. You won't believe how many fad diets I've tried out with my friends. We go to the gym-- We went to the gym together every weekend, but I spent the day just sitting, watching guys work out instead. It's just boring, you know? There's no fun in being healthy."
 
“Really? You’re... I-I mean, you’re super attractive, Nyle. I expected you to be the type of person who jogged in the winter or whatever, drinking those whey drinks. Sometimes I would scout out workout forums and just... feel bad,” he admitted as he lifted his shirt, giving his stomach a squeeze for emphasis.

“You just have a good metabolism,” he declared as he tugged his legs up to wrap his arms around them. “I had a friend who was a bodybuilder and everyone swooned. He could lift his boyfriend without even blinking. I was always jealous - I want people to do that about me.”
 
"I mean, I guess? I've always been kinda lucky like that. And hey, I could totally lift you up without breaking a sweat. I'm tough. Like, I know I said I don't exercise, but I do a lot of swimming. That's exercise, but it's fun. I like exercise that's fun and doesn't make me want to stick pins in my eyes. I like swimming, I like hiking, I... I keep in shape, kinda. I just don't stress out about it. If I want a fucking chocolate cookie, I'm gonna have one, y'know?" He shrugged, reaching for one of the plate Gigi brought around to emphasise his point.

"People swoon over me, by the way. I'm a catch. Look at me. What person wouldn't want me?" He remarked, though when he rolled his eyes and smiled, he made his sarcasm all the more clear. "I'm a total mess right now. Like... maybe once I get a job, dye my hair and get some abs, maybe then I'd be attractive to someone."
 
“You had a boyfriend, right? I mean, fuck. The closest I got to a relationship was getting some tit pics and some dirty talk. As long as you just don’t mention it to anyone, you could probably find someone cute and hook up with them,” he grumbled bitterly as he grabbed a pillow, burying his face into it.

“It’s whatever. Life isn’t focused on being in a relationship, right? You can get whoever you want so don’t worry. Ignore my ramblings.” He insisted, the ghost making a physical effort to shut up. When you have the rest of eternity to relive your life, you spend most of your time reliving your mistakes.
 
"I had a boyfriend, sure. I've had a lot of boyfriends, but come on, I ain't in the greatest position to get another one. But it doesn't matter, I'm so over guys right now. I like being single. I'd like it more if there was a nightclub nearby to get drunk in and goof around in, but whatever, I can't be too fussy," he shrugged, pulling a cushion to his own chest to try and at least relax a little more in his new home, despite the fact he couldn't help but remind himself that the other boy was a ghost. Whenever he thought he was getting used to it, he glanced across and began inwardly freaking out all over again.

"My relationship wasn't great with my ex, though. Like, it wasn't perfect. It makes me glad to be single, I guess. I ain't gonna be in another relationship for a while, so... you don't have to worry about seeing any naked guys stumbling to the bathroom at night, promise."
 
“You better not. This is my house and like hell am I going to have some drunk loser stumble about all naked. Like, I’m sure you wouldn’t like me bringing in some guy and have him just spread out everywhere... aha...” he awkwardly replied, growing quiet as he stared at the television blankly, more using it as an excuse to keep from blushing.

“Could I... borrow your computer? I just need to get some contact from the outside world, Nyle. I’ve been stuck in this shithole for five years and I just want to know how She is. I want to see if she’s happy. I hope not.”
 
"Yeah? Well, I sleep naked, so you're gonna have a drunk loser stumbling about to the bathroom at night, regardless," he countered, this time without the sharp tone he'd earlier had. He realised that Leo was at least fun to talk to when he settled down with him and tried to ignore the fact he was dead. It was difficult to do, especially when the conversation sometimes demanded he remember that fact.

"Dude, you're dead. I give you my laptop, and you'll message that chick and... it won't end pretty, you know? I'll lend you it if you promise to just browse, not post any weird messages to the poor girl. It'll fucking freak her out."
 
“I could pretend to be someone else - I could pretend to be you,” he suddenly replied, his eyes widening hopefully. “Some unsuspecting kid from Philadelphia? It’ll be kind of funny. She’s like, 32 now? Talk about something old people talk about. I promise I won’t go through anything, I just want to make sure everyone is okay.”

With a hand to his heart, he offered a meek smile of reassurance. Despite it being genuine, though, the bear translucent skin and black eyes broke the illusion of two roommates speaking.

“Just... there’s nothing to do, Nyle. I don’t want to just lay on the bed all day with Bitters staring at the ceiling.”
 
"Which is why I think you should be more grateful that a guy like me moved in, who's pretty chill, and pretty cute to look at. Like, I'm giving you my laptop to use, I think I'm fucking fantastic," he murmured, half-seriously as he wandered towards the kitchen to retrieve the laptop, setting it down on the couch for the ghost with a faint smile at just how excited he seemed to get by it.

"No browsing my Instagram, alright? I'm embarrassing as hell on that site and I don't need you stalking through photos of my drunk in New York City, 'kay?" He grinned, propping his feet up on the footstool. "Just... do what you want, I'm alright with you having a browse on it."
 
Forcing back the urge to childishly squeal at the laptop, his eager fingers feeling the laptop, he physically shuddered before logging on effortlessly. His fast typing was impressive, to say the least, as he searched the web for his old social media. Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter... His eyes scanned the laptop out of curiosity.

First checking his profiles, his body loosened a bit once realizing the lack of responses to his passing. Three comments on his Facebook and not a single one from his mother or father. Nothing on his Tumblr. Just a few mentions on Twitter. His eager smile faded warily at the sight, the fact only emphasizing the fact that there was a reason to kill himself.

“I won’t be upset if they deleted their accounts. They’re adults now, right?” He spoke quietly, though his voice was a tad shaky. “Your computer needs a lot of repair, by the way. I can do that for you...?”
 
"Don't go messing around with it, it's fine as it is," he defensively interrupted, folding his arms over his chest stubbornly. He'd had a friend update security software for him, and it ended up a huge failure that cost hundreds to properly take care of. After that, he just chose not to let anyone fiddle about just in case. He wasn't physically reliant on the laptop like Leo had been, but he still loved going on the Internet and engaging with people. It was all the more important now he lived states away from his friends.

"Look, just do what 'ya need to then give it back to me. I have to update my Twitter. My 58 followers gotta know what I'm up to," he sarcastically drawled again, heavily sighing to himself at the low number. "I mean, I used to have hundreds but I kinda had to delete my account and start again and-- it wasn't good. I almost cried when I had to delete it, y'know?"
 
“What did you do to do that?” He questioned if only to keep the other speaking. Being left to his thoughts wasn’t the most positive thing to do. Tapping at the keys, he only briefly looked up from the screen, wiping his eyes a tad with a sniffle.

“I had a Reddit account and I had, like, a thousand friends on there. Otherwise I only talked to, like, five people,” he admitted as he followed the paper trail of his former chat forum, that of which seemed to break apart not long after Leo’s suicide. Eventually he found her Facebook only to see her profile picture featuring her with a child.

“I... I guess that’s okay,” he whispered quietly as he took her picture in, her lips pursed tight. Within a split second, the typically quiet ghost grew angry the more he took her in. “F-Fuck this cunt, then. I hope her kid drowns in a fucking lake or something. She... She told me she never wanted kids and here she is with that... thing?!”
 
"I mean, it was a whole pile of shit. My boyfriend didn't like me on Twitter, said I could find a guy to cheat with, so I had to delete it. The motherfucker kept his account though, didn't he? Didn't delete it when I wanted him to, piece of shit that he is." Nyle grunted, flipping the channel over once the cooking show got boring, though he barely glanced towards the screen again when the ghost erupted in a series of cusses and angry hisses. Prising the laptop from his hands to see what had provoked the reaction, he pursed his lips awkwardly at the picture of the woman with her child, peering over the screen with a faint shrug.

"...People's needs and wants change, Leo. Like... it's been a few years, yeah? I'm sure she was devastated you died and all, but she moved on. People do that. I've changed a lot in just a year. A year ago, I hated vanilla ice cream. Now, I kinda love it," he grinned, attempting to lighten the sudden tense atmosphere. "I dunno, I'm not... you can't go wishing her kid to die, that ain't right, hm?"
 
Tugging his knees to his chest tight, he remained quiet for a moment, biting his knees to hold back the urge to break something. Squeezing his eyes closed tight, he eventually loosened a tad tho kept himself in a tight ball.

“I read her chats. She talked about me for a day and never again, Nyle. I know she didn’t love me anymore b-but... I was hoping she’d at least make it a bigger deal. I loved her, Nyle, I... I told her everything . She goes and calls me weird and then goes and has a baby? That... it isn’t fair,” He babbled weakly as he wiped his eyes, his form fading a tad amongst his upset.

“I didn’t even matter to her,” he continued, though his voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t matter to anyone.”
 
"Oh come on, perhaps she was just a bitch then? Good guys like us fall in love with bad people. Look at my boyfriend! He tried to choke me and blame it on some sex kink or whatever. He stalked me for a while. He was an asshole. That girl you liked seems like a bitch if she went around calling you a weirdo. Are you a little strange? Sure, but in a good way, in a way that's sort of adorable, actually," he complimented, hoping that brief statement would be enough to lift his spirits a little, but he wasn't banking on it. He didn't know Leo all that well, so he wasn't really sure how to cheer him up, or if he even could.

"Anyway, fucking forget about her. You have me, and I think I'm cuter than she is. Look at me. My Mom's Brazilian, I got that whole cute Latino thing going on," he beamed, offering up a wink to emphasise his flirtation. "I can speak Portuguese too, you know? It's the only thing my Mom taught me before she fucked off to continue her wonderful career in prostitution."
 
Tugging his legs closer, the compliment only helped in making Leo grow quiet. The only time he ever heard compliments were over the internet so, to hear it to his face, he didn’t really know how to react initially. Granted, a light pink could be seen on his cheeks hidden behind his knees. Unsurprisingly, Leo took the opportunity to peel attention off of himself.

“Your mother is a prostitute?” He whispered, his voice cracking a tad to try and get over his brief flustered state. “That’s - I mean, she definitely produced something with high quality, even if she is a prostitute - sorry, I... was that appropriate?”
 
"Oh, don't apologise, it was funny-- and true, I guess. I think I'm pretty cute. But yeah, I'm not sure what she does right now, I haven't seen her in years. She could be a high-flying entrepreneur with a million dollar business for all I know. Or she could still be working in clubs and being with abusive men, I couldn't care less," he shrugged, smiling to himself all the while at the ghost's comments. He wasn't going to let the topic of his mother drag him down - he'd abandoned all care for his mother at this point. She was irrelevant, so talking about her didn't make him feel anything.

"It's fine now, though. I got my Dad and my sisters and... I have my friends. They'll come and visit eventually I guess. And hey, I have this really cool ghost buddy who I kinda share a house with. Not many guys can say that now, can they?"