Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's not fun being dead. It's boring most of the time, and it's hard for her to touch things, and Jester's really really mad that she died in her stupid pyjama dress. She would have at least curled her hair if she knew she was going to die. The house is usually empty, and while she can leave and go out to the backyard, she can't feel the sun on her skin or the wind in her hair. So no, it's not fun being dead.

It is super fun to be a ghost, though. She stays quiet when the house is being showed, prospective couples looking around at the big kitchen, the four bedrooms, the three bathrooms, and wondering why it's so cheap. She watches them with budding excitement when they step onto the balcony and look over the beautiful land beyond the home and talk about raising a family there.

The longest a family has ever stayed is two months. She's gotten much better at moving things than she used to be, she thinks she's been dead for thirteen years now, maybe more, and at first, she couldn't even move a crumb. Now, she can open drawers and doors and draw dicks on the condensation in the bathroom. Once, she was even able to pick up a little boy's marker and dot the eyes on his drawings for him.

Sometimes Jester thinks about letting them stay, but then she has to watch them grow and get old and fight and be mean and cruel. And this is her house, even after all this time, and she doesn't like seeing other people picking colours to paint the walls when her mama had picked the nicest ones out there, or laugh at the zebra tile her mama put in Jester's walk in closet. She doesn't want more people living in this house than the dead people, anyway.

The best part of being a ghost, and the only good part about being dead, is Caleb.

-

They can always tell when a new real estate agent has been assigned to the house. A fancy black car will pull up in the windows and Caleb will float through the house, away from the attic where he tends to stay, and try and find her to watch the whole thing go down. Jester's out by the pond, watching the koi fish that the last family left behind, when a pebble whizzes by her head, making the water ripple. She looks over her shoulder to see him by the back door, right at the limit of where he can leave, waving excitedly.

"Really?!" She shouts, running as fast as she can. Jester is so jealous that Caleb can float. He's had a lot more practice being a ghost than her, and he doesn't mess with the people that move in as much, but he knows how to make sounds people can hear and once even made himself visible. She doesn't have to catch her breath after running like she did when she was alive, but she still forces the movements anyway. Old habits really do die hard.

"It is a man, thirties or forties. He is not in the house yet, I don't think." His coughs after, dry as ever, and Jester loops her arm through his. 

"So, Caleb, who do you think will move in next? I hope they have a bird so you can teach it to say scary stuff!" She laughs, and he smiles, just a little, on his lopsided lips. Caleb looks like he died when he was in his early twenties, though he would have aged really well. He's very handsome, even with the ugly mark on his neck and the cuts that always bleed. 

"I hope, for my sake, that they are readers this time. The last two I could only skim off two books, and they weren't even good books. If I could start a fire and know I would be able to not burn the estate down, I would have set New Moon on fire." He scoffs.

"Oh, but Caleb, it was so romantic! Jacob was so sweet and then Edward was back in Bella's life! And she had a big choice to make, especially with her papa and going to Italy! You know, I read the first one when I was alive, so it was really cool to read the second one!" She says, and he smiles again, a little more sincere. She read the book much slower than he did, having trouble turning pages and having to call him over to help more than once. It's a good book though, sappy and romantic, and so many pages that it filled her days when she scared the last people away. 

"They were both very bad choices for her. I think Bella would have been good with Alice." Caleb nods and they both stop as the real estate agent fiddles with the locks, the door creaking open after a couple tries. He's just what Caleb said he would be, and the two ghosts walk arm-in-arm as they follow him explore the house that will stay theirs.

-

It's three years into their relationship that Fjord gets the balls to ask Mollymauk to move in with him. After the first year, he wasn't ready, and the second year was filled with anxiety as he finished university and Molly was offered a job at a design company, their days suddenly busy. Now, watching them load the last box of yarn into the back of Fjord's pick-up, he can't believe he took so long to ask.

Of course, they aren't staying in Fjord's dingy little apartment. It was fine when he was in university, but he's a grown ass man with a cool, decently paying job, and he fell in love with this weird, old house the second he saw the pond in the back. Granted, neither of them actually went to the open houses, but he's sure it'll be fine. It's a twenty minute drive out of Zadash, which isn't a terrible commute to the aquarium, but still fills Fjord's need to be near nature, and it's a huge house for the price, two of the bedrooms are big enough to be the master bedrooms, so they've decided to convert the one with the balcony into Molly's personal studio. It's exactly the type of place Fjord never would have thought he would be able to have. 

The ride is short and lovely. Beau and Yasha loaded up a U-Haul and are following close behind, and Molly's got the aux cord, playing some weird folk music, which is at least better than the amount of Dua Lipa they tend to play.

"I never thought I would live in the country. You've domesticated me, you bastard." Molly teases, his head resting on the window. Their hair is purple right now, and shorter than usual, curly waves cupping their lightly tanned cheeks. They look relaxed, which reassures Fjord. 

"I guess if you feed a cat, it really does keep coming back." Fjord chuckles, turning his eyes back to the road. 

"We should get a cat!" Molly exclaims, jerking up in his seat. His jewelry clatters about.

"Absolutely not, I'm so allergic to those fuckers, and they don't do shit." 

"A dog?"

"...I could do a dog."

-

They're not sure which is the couple that's staying. Most of Caleb's books are still in the attic, no one thought to check when he died that he would have anything up there, and when Jester is especially bored, he reads to her. It's a yellowed copy of Mrs Dalloway today, Caleb can't do much about the aging process of his books, even if he does his best to keep them in pristine condition. She's on the floor, mostly because the feeling of sitting is still nice, and the only thing up here is the wooden chair Caleb pushed close to the window three summers ago, when a cat had kittens in the field across the street. He's sitting in it, reddish hair falling in his eyes, always falling in his eyes, as he reads. He switches to German sometimes, and she has to gently remind him to translate. 

They both became so engrossed in the book that they don't notice the people moving in until they hear yelling about a dropped couch. Jester watches as Caleb's eyes widen and he carefully sets the book down on the floor.

"I believe we have company. Ladies first." He gestures towards the door. She thinks it's very nice of him to follow her in walking when he could just float through the floor and be there so much faster. 

"I hope they're cool!" She giggles, and takes off. Jester died wearing her fluffy Uggs, thank the Gods, because they're so comfy under her feet. Caleb is stuck in white socks, and even though he rarely goes outside, nor does he usually have his feet on the ground, it must suck for him. She wonders if his feet get cold. He doesn't like to talk a lot about his life or death, and she doesn't often ask. 

There are two women, a man, and someone that Jester isn't quite sure about standing in the living room. The man, a tall, dark skinned guy with some lighter patches on his skin, is trying to help a buff, deathly pale woman straighten out the couch. If Jester hadn't already seen how white people look when they're ghosts, she would think that the buff woman is one. The other woman is squinting, reading instructions for a bookshelf with a hammer in her hands, while the purple-haired, tattooed person flops on the couch.

"I have never seen someone look like that." Caleb says.

"Like what?"

"The tattoos. They're pretty. And purple hair, I did not know anyone in my life with coloured hair that was not a natural colour." Sometimes Jester forgets how old Caleb is.

"Well, yeah! When I was seventeen, I begged my mama to dye my hair blue!" Jester says, and he nods, reaching out for the touch of blue forever left on her bob. 

"I like it a lot." He admits, a blush coming to his face. She's never understood how they can blush when they don't have any blood, but Jester does her best not to question it. Caleb does that enough for both of them. 

They watch the four of the living folks bicker, the short Asian woman dumping the purple-haired person off of the couch, convincing them to help. Fjord, as they find out, is one of the people who bought the house, the tall man who runs his fingertips over decades-old aqua paint and says that he doesn't want to change it, much to Jester's pleasure. Caleb wanders to the bookshelf eventually, watching with an eagerness as 'Molly' stacks books once it's done. He calls out books that he thinks Jester would like, just by name of course. She's especially excited for one called Life of Pie, whatever that is. 

Another bookshelf is filled with crystals, a small statue of a dragon being placed upon it. Caleb crosses his legs, sitting on the floor as Molly also sets up a small shrine, with a bowl of water, intricately carved rocks, and dried flowers, the symbol of the Wildmother upon it. 

"These... are these still banned religions?" He asks, looking over his shoulder at Jester. She walks over and shakes her head.

"I don't think so? There was a big thing about religious freedoms in the Empire in the sixties I think? Maybe the seventies? I didn't have to learn a lot about it in Nicodranas and I only went to school for a couple months here before..." She trails off, knowing he knows what she means. He reaches out and dips his finger in the water.

"It was not so bad as, ah, Germany when I left, I hope? So few families enjoy history novels, and mostly they are about that war." 

"No, no, it was like, liberating I think? Like it was a civil thing, like when we had to fight for black people and women and gay people. I think gay people can get married now, though? I remember a few years ago one of the people who was here watched the news a lot."

"Gay people?"

"Y'know, like boys who like boys, and girls who like girls." She nudges him, and he falls with a puff of air. Molly looks over to the crystals with close-knitted eyebrows before going back to annoying the dark-skinned man.

"Ah, okay, I see. I didn't know there was a new word for it." 

"It's, like, a really old word, Caleb."

They watch, shoulder to shoulder, as the women leave, and the two remaining smile, laugh, and hold each other. Jester's hands ball in her lap. 

If there's one thing she missed out on while living, it's love.

-

The balcony looks out at a pond, likely a natural one, it's far too large to be manmade, and the woods beyond, a thatch of utterly untamed grass and weeds runs over the rest of the property.

"If you want this to be our bedroom, I'll survive without the balcony." Molly says, walking up behind him. He's changed into pyjamas now, hair pulled away from his angular face. 

"I saw your face when you saw the zebra closet, I'll live with the balcony being a fifteen second walk away." Fjord wraps his arm around Molly's middle, pulling them close. 

"You always know what I'm thinking, dear." Molly purrs, leaning their head on his chest. Fjord smiles, looking out again.

"I'm glad we both took a little time off work, I never thought puttin' a house together would be this much work." 

"Hey! It's both of our proper first houses!" Molly says, looking up with dark eyes.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Fjord says, and leans down to kiss his forehead. 

"Now, I believe that's a cause for celebration."

"Indeed. I'll get the wine." Fjord says, and starts to pull away. Molly's hand squeezes his forearm, and they point out towards the overgrown backyard.

"Ha! We have fireflies!"

With his love wrapped in his arms, Fjord has never felt more alive.

Chapter Text

Mollymauk is an artist, and Jester has never been more excited in her un-life. They have a studio, her mama's old bedroom, filled with yarns and fabrics and threads. They don't paint, much to her despair, but she's able to watch over his shoulder as he sketches designs on a pad of paper, and a couple days later, if the design is approved, sets about making it. She's never spent this much time with any of the living people that have come into this house, but he's just so cool!

Caleb is here today as well, the weather outside is bad and the attic becomes far too loud for him to read, so he's sitting on one of the tables, watching with mild interest as Molly runs a pink fabric under a white sewing machine.

"My mutter could sew when I was a child. Most women could, but she was really very good at it. She never made anything like this, though." Caleb gestures to the single-strapped vinyl party dress Mollymauk is working on. 

"I would have loved to wear that dress. It looks like it would be too small for me, but could you imagine? I'd look like Elle Woods but not blonde."

"I don't know who that is." He blushes.

"Oh."

Molly holds the dress up, then lays it down on the table. He looks about the room, dark eyes settling strangely close to where Caleb is sitting. He sighs loudly, dramatically, even on his own.

"I think I need a coffee. Or a Kool-Aid. Fjord didn't buy coffee yet, that dummy, and I'm an utterly shit driver." He says to the air. They start to walk out of the room, bumping their hip into the table Caleb is perched on as they go. They blink a few times, their hands drawing back.

"Drafty."

"I wish I could sew. I took home-ec in high school, you know, and they tried to teach us, but I got really good at the baking, so my teachers told me as long as I helped the others, I would pass."

"I could darn socks and sew on patches." Caleb supplies, watching Mollymauk leave. 

"Aw, that's so cool, Caleb!" Jester whines. She always thought she'd be really cool, like Andie in Pretty in Pink and make her own prom dress. She didn't make it until prom.

"When I was young, my parents owned a farm, it was just part of that."

"You never told me that! So you had like goats and pigs and stuff?"

"We did not keep pigs, but we had chickens and goats. Cows, for a time." He smiles, picking at the dirt that will never come out from under his fingernails.

"I had a ferret!" She says.

"A ferret is the long guinea pig, ja?"

"Pretty much!" 

"They look very cuddly."

There's a silence that stretches after, the only sounds coming from the weather outside and the gentle, murmuring voices of the living members of the house downstairs. Silence is common between them. Caleb's spoken English wasn't very good when Jester died, and he hadn't spoken to anyone since he died over seventy years before her. It didn't help that sometimes, Caleb would lose time, staring in one spot for hours, sometimes days on end. Jester didn't like silence when she was alive, but it's somewhat comforting now. 

Caleb's fingers run over the metal fabric pins on the table, and he whispers under his breath as he counts them. Jester watches the trees sway with the weight of the rain outside the window. Eventually, Mollymauk returns with two blue juice pouches and a new hickey on their neck. 

"I need to buy a speaker for this room. Music is wonderful to work in, the rain feels dreary for this style of dress." They mutter, tattooed hand resting on the shiny vinyl piece. He looks to the wild weather outside.

"Doubt I could order it for delivery now, and Fjord is working on the pipes, lovely man. I don't know jack shit about how that works." 

"I like it when they talk to themselves, the people that live here. Narrating their lives for us." Caleb says, socked feet swaying.

"That's just because you talk to yourself, too!"

"Ja, you may be right there, Jester." His accent makes it hard for him to wrap the 'J' of her name around his tongue, but it still sounds close enough to her name. She misses people saying it. 

"Well, I had a thought about those big feather boas, and making a robe out of them. They feel lovely on bare skin, even if they leave feathers all over. We'll get a Roomba." Molly says, setting the juice pouches down. 

"What's a Roomba?" Caleb asks.

"I don't know."

-

The house doesn't feel as empty as Fjord feared it would. He's never had this much space to run around and spread out and put his things, it's almost unsettling. One of the four bedrooms he's taken over with exercise equipment, filled with weights and a second hand rowing machine and Beau's old treadmill. It's nice to have a dedicated space instead of the student gym he's been using. 

"Molls, where exactly did you want it again?" Fjord asks, holding the screws between his lips. He's holding a large hook, a rig that Molly wanted him to drill into the ceiling to hang his aerial silks from. Mollymauk, helpful as ever, is staring at themself in the mirror, the pink little workout shorts and tight black tank top that really leaves nothing to the imagination. 

"About three inches to the left should be good, I'd rather not break my foot on your rowing thingy." 

"Uh-huh."

-

Caleb's face is bright pink, his eyes on the ground. 

"Oh, Caleb, are you embarrassed?" Jester teases, sitting on the other side of the ladder, the one that Fjord is using to drill the hook into the ceiling. Caleb doesn't grace her with a response, dull blue eyes flicking from the ground to Mollymauk. The living couple is quiet, for once, as Fjord carefully lines up the hook properly. Molly bends over to tie their shoe, and Caleb looks back to Jester.

"Very... very short shorts." He mutters. Caleb died in so many layers. Jester asked once, in December six years ago, what time of the year he died. He's wearing thick looking pants and a long sleeved shirt, a vest, and long duster jacket. He's able to take off layers, he sometimes leaves the jacket by his attic chair, but the cuts on his arms always bleed blood that never stains anything. She thinks that he probably wears the coat for her sake, so she doesn't have to see them. 

"Do you like the very short shorts, Cayleb?" She leans towards where he sits, gaunt form against the wall. 

"I, er, ah-" he stammers, only stopping when Fjord swears, a screw falling from his mouth. He jerks back, holding his left thumb with his right hand, squeezing.

"Are you alright?" Molly rushes over, holding onto the bottom of the A-shaped ladder. 

"Yeah, just fuckin', fuckin' caught my thumb." His nose scrunches up.

"Let me see, darling." 

Jester looks at her Ugg, her shoes usually seem pretty opaque to her, unless she's stepping on something. When she goes outside, she can see the grass and stones underneath. Now, she can see the screw Fjord dropped. She points at it, looking at Caleb.

"Should we start now? With the moving of things? This couple is nice, you should let them stay for a while." Caleb suggests, cocking his head.

"Well, I'm just being helpful!" She giggles, picking the screw up. She's quick in her returning it to the flat top of the ladder. She's discovered it's far more fun to gradually increase the ghost stuff. Nine years ago she went all out the first week, only to have an exorcist called to the house a few days later. The two of them holed up in the attic for a while after. Jester doesn't know how Caleb got that family to leave, but it was only two more weeks until their trucks pulled away.

"Alright, alright." Caleb smiles, his little dimple showing. He used to have facial hair, Jester found a really, really old photo once. It couldn't be more than a few months before he died, his hair was only a little shorter. He had his arm around a man with shorter hair and two pins, one Kryn and one Empire on his lapel. She gave him the photo, asking him all about it. Caleb went silent and still for three whole days, eventually coming out of his stupor to tell her that the photo was five months before his death, and that the man in the photo was very important to him. He's handsome with or without the facial hair. 

"And voila!" Jester sits back on the ladder as Fjord climbs back up, brown finger reddening. 

-

Fjord has to be the most oblivious person who has ever lived in this house. It's been two weeks, and Caleb has already stolen three of his books, a headband, and two paper clips. Jester has moved so much of his stuff around. He works as a seal keeper at an aquarium, which is probably the coolest thing Jester can think of, and because of that, she keeps hiding his work clothes. It's fun to watch him run around the house, cursing under his breath, white-streaked hair bundled in his hand as he seeks his work hat, or suddenly finds himself without his right shoe. 

It's the middle of the night. She's never liked when the patrons of the house leave it all dark throughout, the hallways don't feel the same without the butterfly plug-in night lights her mama had. Molly has strung lights on thin wires around most of the rooms, and Caleb and Jester have taken full advantage of this. Caleb is sitting in a large, plush chair, one that the pale woman dropped off a few days after the others moved in. He's twisting the stolen fabric headband and looping it around his hands, focusing hard on keeping himself tangible. 

Jester has draped herself over the couch, burying her hands in the plush throw blanket. She's not sure if she can actually feel how soft it is, or if her brain is making it up. 

"I like how Mollymauk has decorated the space. They have filled the house without it being cluttered. It feels very warm." Caleb says, and Jester sits up a little, but leaves her fingertips in the white fur throw.

"Right! Do you remember when that one couple with the little girl moved in and wanted to do everything farm-theme? Oh God, Caleb, it looked so bad." She giggles, and he snorts, nodding. He snaps the headband and the fabric goes right through his hand.

"I liked it very much how your mother decorated it. It was sad that it only looked that way for the few months she lived here, but I think it had a certain pizzazz about it." 

"You liked it?! I would have thought that you would have been like oh, ja, I am Caleb Widogast, and I like brown things and books." She does her best impression of him, which isn't very good at all. He laughs anyway.

"Books are good! And books are usually bound in brown!" He teases, looking at her.

"They can be all sorts of colours if you're not boring, Caleb."

"Not from when I am from! It was hard to have colours in the first place, I was very poor in Germany and by the time I was here in the Empire, I had very few things I owned. Essek always did like purple, though. When I got my first pay in the Empire, I went and bought a purple scarf for him." He's back to looking at the hairband. 

"Essek?" Jester asks, keeping her voice light.

"Ja, if you remember the, ah, photo you saw of me? The other man. That was Essek." His accent sounds slightly thicker.

"Oh. Oh. Essek was beautiful. I am sure you made him very happy." Jester shuffles down the couch so she's closer to him. "Do you want to tell me about him?" He looks up at her, eyes sad.

"I... Will. Not now, if that is okay? But I will, eventually. Essek was not my first love, but he was my last. It is still hard to think of him, sometimes." He coughs, reaching for the permanent bruise around his neck.

"Not your first love? Oh my God, Caleb, were you a slut?" Jester teases, trying to lighten the mood. He does chuckle, rusty and wet at the same time. 

"I didn't say that! I dated three others before him, two women and one man, but it was in Germany, long before I met him. Four people... that does not seem like a slut to me."

"Four whole people! What a player, Caleb! I didn't know I was sharing death with Hugh Hefner!" She giggles, and he blushes, smiling and hiding his face in his shoulder. There's very, very little chance he knows who Hugh Hefner is, but he seems to get the message anyway. 

-

She feels like she's watching a movie as Jester perches on the windowsill, the living couple doing a slow dance in the living room. The speaker Molly has is loud, and flashes pink and blue lights, but is playing a very gentle piano tune. Fjord is still in his work uniform, while Molly is in a half-finished suit, more loose ends than finished edges. The melody is soft and sweet, and Molly's head rests on Fjord's chest. 

Her mama used to have men over sometimes, and Jester would go and sit by the pond. Back then, there were ducks, and she would share her Dunkaroos with the mallards. She doesn't imagine that this is what her mama would do with her guests, but it's nice to see this moment of love in her home.

Jester doesn't often feel like she's intruding on the lives of the people that live here. It's her house, and it's somewhat Caleb's house, and she doesn't feel bad about being here. But in this moment, she feels like she should be anywhere else, Fjord cupping Molly's cheek with one hand, bringing their lips together as the song crescendos.  

"I love you." One whispers to the other, so quietly she can't tell who said it.

"I love you more." The other responds. 

Jester's heart burns in her chest, and it crawls into her mouth. If her eyes weren't always wet, they would be now, and she drops from the windowsill. Molly was sketching in the kitchen while they were making lunch. On her way out, she purposefully flings the pen they left to the floor.

She wants them out of her house, now.

Chapter Text

"Jester, please, I am trying to read." Caleb whines, looking up at her. 

"You've definitely read this before, Caleb." She says, pushing his book down with one hand. This new couple has been here for almost two months, a record, as far as Jester is concerned, and she's just about sick of them.

She started slow, easy. She would move Molly's pens and pencils, giggling as he crawled on his hands and knees to check under the couch. She untied Fjord's shoes when he was walking, and knocked on the wall beside his head when he was sleeping. 

It didn't work.

She moved on, slamming doors and flicking lights off, throwing open cabinet doors when the couple, wrapped up in each other's arms, were cooking. Caleb did his best to mock Mollymauk's gentle accent, his own making it a very, very poor impression, calling out for Fjord when Molly was out of the house.

"Ja, I have, but it is a very good one, and I would like to read my longer books before winter, to have more light to read by." He gestures to the small attic window, letting in the last of the day's natural light. 

"Come on, Caleb! I saw ducks again by the pond, and I know that when the ducks are there, cats totally are!" She wiggles her eyebrows, and he shakes his head a little.

"I would very much like to go, Jester, it is a kind idea, but I cannot go very far from the house. I couldn't even see the kitty-cats from there." He closes the book. It's a heavily dog-eared copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

"One day we'll figure out how we can leave, and we'll go all over, and do all sorts of cool things." She says, flopping onto the floor. Like a gentleman, he looks away while she fixes the slightly-too-short sleep dress she died in.

"What would you like to do?" He asks, folding his hands over his lap.

"Um, I would totally want to go see my mama again. I know she has to miss me so much! And my friend Artie! Oh! And I wonder if Veth still lives in the area? You would have really liked her, Caleb, she liked little things like you do!" She giggles, and points to Caleb's very small collection of stolen goods. He has no qualms about stealing books at all, but belongings he seems to choose carefully. He has four small cat collectables, nicked from two separate grandmothers, an old fountain pen, two unusable hair elastics, and a tonka truck painted with the Kryn flag. 

"I am sure I would." He smiles, tight on his pale face.

"What about you? Where would you want to go?" 

"Eh, everyone I knew is dead, so I would not visit. I'm not sure where I would go. Maybe go see my house again. Visit graves." 

"That sucks, Caleb." 

"Ja, it does." They both smile anyway.

-

Mollymauk's not stupid. They're fully aware that sometimes they can come off as daft, that the colour in their hair and the clothes on their body sometimes inspire doubt in those around them. Beau thinks he's an asshole, and Yasha thinks he can't take care of himself. Fjord mother hens and does all the paperwork, because Molly's not very good at reading. And yeah, they'll admit it, they can be a bit dumb.

But they're not stupid.

And there's a ghost in this house.

-

It starts with a séance. It's a far nicer approach than some other families have tried, from exorcisms to ghost hunters to trying all sorts of pop-culture methods of kicking Jester and Caleb out. Fjord's out, it's two in the afternoon on a Tuesday when Mollymauk sits on the floor of the living room. Jester watches as they light long, white candles, placing them in a circle around themself. There's crystals and oils and colourful scarves involved, Molly spills a granular sand on a cutting board and sets down their totem of the Platinum Dragon. 

"This is new." Caleb says, floating over to where Molly has set up. From the couch, Jester shrugs, kicking her legs slightly.

"I think it's really cool! Most people just yell at us, Caleb." 

"Ja, for good reason, I suppose. Not many want ghosts in their house." 

"Even though we are super cool and awesome." She sighs, and he gives a hearty chuckle, socked feet descending to the floor. 

-

"Alright." Molly claps his hands together, looking at his set up. He, truly, has no idea what he's doing, but bullshitting his way through most things never fails to work for him. They thought about calling Caduceus, but the hippie usually takes a couple weeks in October to properly winterize the graveyard and grove, and calling him out for this seems a little bit much. Maybe he'll still call for him, Fjord would probably appreciate it. "So, let's get this started."

The house, of course, is quiet back to him. It's not like Molly expected to light the candles they bought from the pharmacy and have the ghost speak to him, but it's still underwhelming to simply hear his voice fade throughout the house. It makes him feel a little dumb, though, that he's doing this in the first place. Other than Fjord suddenly displacing parts of his uniform, his boyfriend hasn't noticed anything wrong in the house. 

There's a gentle tap on the table.

-

Jester holds her fingers in place, looking over where the purple-haired person is sitting. Their eyes widened when she tapped, and Caleb looks like he's holding back a giggle as he gives her a somewhat disappointed look.

"What? He said he wanted to get started, Caleb."

"Ja, I guess you are right." He kneels down before Molly. They're vastly different sights like this. Caleb has a very timeless handsomeness about him, a rugged face and light freckles across his nose, and the broad shoulders that make his thin frame look nearly regal. Mollymauk is a new sight, unlike anyone who has wandered into this house since Jester's been here, all bright colours and sharp tones and edges. While Fjord's monolidded eyes and brown skin are an unusual sight alone in this area, Molly's entire look makes Jester wonder about what's out there now. What would she be?

"So, ghost. Hello." Molly says, rolling two black rocks between their thin fingers.

"Can you hear me, Mister Mollymauk?" Caleb asks, sitting back on his heels. There's no reaction on Molly's face, and Caleb gives a soft huff. "I guess not." 

"Cayleb, try touching him!" Jester giggles from where she's sitting.

"No one wants that." Caleb looks back to her.

"Well, um... I don't know!" She shifts off the couch and Molly's eyes flick to her, where the cushions have been lightly pressed down.

"Oh? Well, alright, you can take the couch if you want to, dear. Would you do me the favour of letting me know if you want to talk?" Molly's eyes stay locked on the cushions, even as Jester joins Caleb, only inches from the human's face.

"Do we want to talk?" Caleb asks, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"Well, yeah!" Jester nods excitedly. 

"What would we say? Sorry there are ghosts in your house? Jester, I am not sure that is a good idea." He draws his hands back, and Jester leans over him, running her finger through the thin layer of sand on the cutting board, shaping it into a lopsided smile. Molly stares at it as it's being drawn, and looks up into space when it's done.

"Weird. Hello."

"Hi." Jester says back. As usual, and incredibly disappointing, there is no reply or movement of their head to show that Molly can hear her at all. Caleb gently touches Jester's elbow.

"I am sorry, Blueberry, I don't think Mollymauk can hear us at all."

-

Molly thinks he's holding himself together pretty well, his heart trying to crawl up his throat as the slow smile drags itself along Fjord's beach sand. There's a hollow terror to it, a confirmation of the dull fear he's had building since they moved in. He feels like running, gathering up his things and smoking some pot and forgetting all this happened, but the smile has weird little dotted eyes, and after it's done he swears he hears a little giggle.

"Weird. Hello." Molly struggles to keep their voice level, clenching their hands so tightly their acrylics break the skin of their palm. There's a long, drawn out silence after as he waits for something, anything to happen. Slowly, he wipes the smile away from the sand.

"Uh, can you write your name?" 

-

"Caleb, how do you spell your name?" Jester asks, excitedly. The ginger's head tilts.

"It is spelled like Caleb."

"But is there a weird spelling because you aren't from here?"

"No, it is spelled like Caleb."

She nods, and reaching her fingers out. It's harder now than before, it feels like she can only touch so much stuff in a day without the sluggishness in her bones, but she wants to do as much as she can. Her name comes first, and Mollymauk looks on with an eagerness as she slowly starts pushing in the C, then the A, then the Y-

"There is no 'y' in Caleb." He crouches beside her.

"There totally is." Jester argues, but he pushes the sand over and scrawls the rest of his name in the sand.

"There. Capisce?"

"Oh. Great. There are two of you. I guess at least that's not as lonely? Um, is it only two of you?" Molly asks. Jester knocks twice on the table.

"I'll take that as a yes."

-

He's fucking freaking out, it feels like he's been turned inside out. Molly's always been superstitious, always been careful about this type of stuff, but knowing that there are two dead people just like, fucking chilling in his house isn't ideal. 

There's the issue of the house, too. They've watched horror movies together, Fjord hiding his handsome face with a pillow, or a blanket, or his hands when anything happens, quivering in fear at the ghosts in the films telling new families to leave. They can barely afford to live here as is, yet alone selling it and leaving. 

"So. Um. What do we do about this? The whole... thing." He asks. No reply comes, but a book from his shelf in the corner is slowly lifted off, the bright blue cover drifting through the air to the couch. Slowly, the spine cracks, and the pages flip to the first page of text.

-

"What are you doing?" Jester hisses, looking back at Caleb.

"What am I doing? I am reading, we cannot talk to them so I am doing something useful." He hisses back, eyes not leaving the blocks of text.

"Caleb, come on, this is the first time I've talked to a person other than you in so long, help me!" 

"Um. We can figure this out as it goes? I hope you don't feel like it's too tacky in here, but we'll try not to change too much. Lovely place, lots of land and sunlight." Molly says, standing up. They wander to the table, sitting on it across from Caleb. "That's a good book."

There's a tense silence as Jester sits beside Caleb, the couch shifting again. Molly takes a Kleenex from the paper box on the table, gently dabbing away blood from their palms. 

"So. Ghosts. Okay."

"Ghosts?" Fjord says, dropping his work bag on the floor. "The fuck you mean ghosts?"