And, I'm starting yet another new story :P This time it's a GrayxLucy. This is just the first chapter, an introduction of sorts, so it's a bit a short, sorry. I really hope you guys like it though :)

One

Being a teenage ghost is not fun.

All the older ghosts make fun of you. Seniors? Yeah, and pigs fly. The kids know how to use abnormally rude gestures considering they haven't really lived long enough to learn them.

And if you find another teenage ghost for a friend, well good for you, because they come around every millennia or so.

Alright, I won't be mean. What I mean to say is, in my three years of being stuck at seventeen and hovering around uselessly in the blessed town of Magnolia, there haven't been any boys my age who snuffed it. (The ones that did are such jerks, they moved on to hell.)

I'm sorry, that was rude of me. It comes with being dead, I'm afraid.

I should introduce myself. I'm Gray Fullbuster. All sexual innuendoes and mockery you might make to my name to be refrained, thank you.

And, well, I'm dead. You might have figured that out by now.

Useful tip if you're planning on dying any time soon; Don't.

It's boring. Let me start from the middle; (If I started at the beginning, I'd have to explain how I died, and no one has time for sob-stories, duh.)

Once you're dead, and you realize you're stuck as an invisible spirit floating around the realization comes like a rollercoaster drop. Then you understand soon enough that there's no Ghost Exhibit A with a reception counter where some wise old poltergeist explains the rules of dead to you, oh no. No 'How To Be Dead' books, no notes on wandering the world for eternity, and absolutely no help from any of your ghost community.

They're weird, I tell you.

The things, not all of us are stuck this way. The one ghostly granddad I'd once talked to told me that people only faded into wandering spirits when they weren't ready to move on to where the next world is yet. When they still had some void in their lives that had never been filled and was too big to ignore.

What was scary though, was when he said that not many of even knew what this void was. He himself did not know what it was that had left him unable to belong to either life, but kind of squashed in the middle. ("Personally though," he'd added in a secretive tone. "It's fun this way. Everything's free!")

I'd tried mulling over, of course. Maybe it was that burger I never ate. Or perhaps it's that tux I never tried on.

But I've always been a fairly laid-back bloke so I thought, screw it. It'll come around when it does, and also, something big just happened yesterday.

You're probably thinking, Woah, something big, huh? You must be psyched.

Well, when I say something big, I mean something surprising. And surprising doesn't come around often when you're a ghost.

As I may have mentioned before, most other ghosts in Magnolia are weird. Not people I really want for company, so instead of hanging out with them haunting Piper's Hotel and Casino, I'd come across an empty flat one morning.

I might as well add, before I get to my 'something big', that we most certainly are not transparent. I find it offensive to term ghosts as all white and pale, like what wrong did purple do?

Being a ghost is just being dead and unseen to the rest of the world. I still look the same, and I'm still wearing the same clothes for three years (yep, fashionable, that's me). I still see myself the same when I look at the mirror; the same raven-black hair sticking up in all directions, the same grey shirt and frayed jeans, the same dirty sneakers.

I can choose to hide myself at will, and in a way, you might put being a ghost as being a superhero.

I mean, I can literally disappear if I want. That's basically just me fading away for a while, mostly when I'm too emotional, but I can do it all the same.

Also, we cannot walk through walls. (I wish we could. Sigh.)

So anyway, this flat I'd found was perfect. It was a small one-bedroom one, placed on top of small pizzeria. It was dusty and no one had lived in it for years. Not that I like dusty, or cobwebs for that matter, but it meant that no one would be bothering me here.

I couldn't exactly hang mistletoes in there, but it had become a sort of home for me. A new one. It was west facing, so the twilight sun streamed in at exactly the right moments.

It was a peaceful place.

At least until someone freaking bought it.

In all honestly I admit, I had not expected that. It was a tiny place, and on top of a restaurant which was loud and noisy half the time; why would anyone except me want to stay here?

But no, yesterday morning I hear the door slam open, and a flustered blonde girl stands there with three bags in her hands.

I almost fell from my place on the window sill. (Not that it would matter if I did. Huh.)

She was followed by the disgruntled co-owner of the Bells Corner pizzeria—Mr. Bard, I think—who hurried her inside my flat.

Yes, I've lived in it for three years and the spiders know me. Of course it's my flat.

"This is it?" She halted in the middle of the room, speaking in a tone of deflated hope. She had her back to me, facing the bed opposite the window.

Then without waiting, she sighed. "Of course this is it." As she turned to Mr. Bard, I caught a glimpse of the grimace on her face.

My first impression of my new roommate was that she was a mess. Her deep golden hair was slowly unfurling from her loose topknot into all directions, and her cheeks were flushed, as if she'd been running. The three bags she was clutching with her arms weren't helping her rather flustered appearance.

"You get what you pay for," Bard said gruffly. He moved out of the doorway to drag in a few boxes and two huge plastic bags. Seeing the blonde's crestfallen expression he added a bit more kindly, "Don't worry miss. It's very pretty up here."

Not thoroughly convinced, she shrugged and gave a small smile.

Well, I could vouch for the excellent city view from up here, but it's not like anyone's listening to me now.

"Well, thanks a lot Mr. B," The girl said finally. "The rest of my stuff will be here in half an hour—send them up, will you?"

As per his usual niceness, Mr. Bard sniffed and said, "I'll see what I can do." Then he handed her a bunch of keys and left, slamming the door behind him as he did.

I suppressed a smirk. "Friendly guy," I commented loftily to myself. I leaned back against the window-pane, glancing at her as I did.

To my shock—here comes my something big—she gave a little gasp and whirled around so fast, that she knocked over a box.

I'm not sure who was more terrified in that second (Fancy that, a potentially dead guy afraid of a random blonde chick). I froze in my place—she couldn't possible have heard me—and she stared at me for a split second.

Then: "Oh," she said in a small voice. "Um—I—didn't see you there," she finished lamely, but she looked bewildered and suspicious at the same time. "Um…what are you doing here? I thought this was a flat for one…"

But I wasn't listening to her. No, I preferred frowning at her in utter confusion for the next ten seconds.

When I found my voice, I asked very slowly, "You—you can see me?"

As soon as I said the words, the girl's eyes widened and she staggered back a little. Equally slowly, she nodded. Then, as if trying to contradict herself, she asked hurriedly, "What do you mean?"

Now, let me interrupt this happy little story by throwing in some light for all you living novices out there—being D-E-A-D means you're literally gone off the face of the earth. No one sees you. Being a ghost is almost the same thing. It's being a remainder of your living self, unseen and unheard.

And one fine day a human girl walks in and starts talking to me?

"But, you can hear me too?" I continued incredulously.

By now, she'd dropped her keys. "Oh no," she breathed out suddenly, and I saw her face grow pale as some kind of realization hit her. "Oh no, no, no…"

Me being the sensitive guy I am, jumped down and rushed over to her. I grabbed her wrist, and held it, awed. I could feel it. Her warm skin. Her pulse.

"And you can feel me?" I asked excitedly. There was a sudden burst of hope inside me.

(Little note: I swear this is not how I generally treat girls. Any females wanting to throw themselves at me are quite welcome, I assure you I'll be on my best ghost behaviour.)

At that, she uttered a little squawk and tore her hand free from my grasp, stepping back and falling butt-first onto another box full of her stuff. Terrified, she looked at me.

Then it hit me. Why would she be terrified? If she thought I was another human at first, even if my questions were ridiculous to human ears, why was she scared?

Remembering my fear when I first got to know that I had died, I stepped forward tentatively. "Are you—are you dead too?"

I know what you're saying. Smart Gray. She just magically died in the two second span after a very much alive Mr. B brought her in.

But that was the only explanation I could think of.

And it seems like, that was the ultimate wrong thing to say.

She let out a small moan and scrambled up ungracefully. "Oh, God," she mumbled. "Oh God."

"No, it's okay!" I said hastily. "I can help you!"

But she had picked up her keys and I saw her edging towards the door. Let me just tell you, if she was confused, I was soaking in every syllable of confusion.

"Hey wait!" I called, but the blonde had wrenched the door open.

"You're not real," she said to herself, and then she shut the door quickly behind her, leaving me standing in the middle of the room surrounded by a bunch of her stuff.

I stood still for a moment, trying to make sense of this bizarre afternoon. After a minute or so, it was very clear to me that she absolutely was not a newly dead. She was human; I'd felt the blood pulsing through her veins.

And if she was, how could she have conversed with me like any random guy on the street? Obvious reasons aside, why was she frightened? It was almost as if she was reliving something, and I for one was pretty sure normal humans don't go around chatting up with old ghost pals every day.

If you're getting to know me and planning on marrying me any time soon, I should probably also inform you how stubborn I can be.

Which is exactly why I was going to wait her out. We, had some talking to do.

The next chapters will be longer, I promise. This is just a beginning. Please do review and tell me if you liked it, because it'll encourage to keep writing. :) (I apologize for any mistakes I might have made; I didn't proofread it very well.)