Chapter Text
Tyler Joseph had grown used to the unusual.
He was used to the hush of an empty office building. He was used to the way the world slowly woke up as he was going to bed. He was used to very little human interaction and even less of a social life.
He was also used to seeing ghosts.
Tyler locked the front door behind him as he entered the small office building. He flicked the lightswitch and enjoyed the quiet buzzing of the fluorescents coming back to life, brightening the space.
He tried to ignore movement in his peripheral vision as he shucked off his jacket and beanie. He laid them carefully on the front desk. He squeezed his eyelids shut, counted to ten as he breathed in and out slowly. Then he opened them again to check.
It was still there.
This was one he’d seen before. Her head was bowed, her stick-straight hair almost brushing her hips. Her forearms were too long, too spindly, and she picked at her fingers as she shuffled in the vague direction of the door Tyler had just emerged from. The typical ghost aura surrounded her, tiny glowing particles almost like snowflakes drifting in and out of focus.
“Need to… need to…” she mumbled lowly to herself, over and over again.
Tyler’s heart plummeted as he bit his lip. He sighed and turned toward the broom closet.
He’d had about a decade to acclimate to this, and all things considered, he thought he was doing okay with it. Not great, not bad. Just okay.
Tyler watched as water from the faucet in the closet dribbled into the mop bucket. In that dark room, eyes trained on the steady flow of droplets, a small part of him said, If I stay in here all night I won’t have to see her or any more of them. It would be easier.
But while he knew it would be easier, he also knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t just hide in broom closets all his life – experience had taught him that. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop the world from spinning. Life would go on for everyone else around him, blissfully unaware of what he saw and heard every day. And he had to join in as if he was just as unaware as them.
Screwing off the faucet, Tyler dropped a mop into the mop bucket and rolled it out of the closet. He tilted his chin up as he squeezed out the mop head, scanning the room.
She was still near the front door, but Tyler was sure she’d be drawn back to the far corner of the building at some point. She’d appeared at his workplace three times before, and during every visit she managed to find her way there.
“Need to…” she whispered.
Tyler felt a lump in his throat as he nodded. He plopped the mop onto the tiled floor and began the mechanical motion he had gotten so used to, pushing it back and forth.
Tyler was grateful for this job, as unglamorous as it was. It gave him space to drop his facade and acknowledge the broken ghosts around him even though they couldn’t acknowledge him back. For the length of his shifts, he could coexist with them in a way that wouldn’t make strangers turn their heads or whisper about him.
Some days it took an incredible amount of effort to pretend not to see what was right in front of him. At work, he could relax. At least a little bit.
Even after all these years, the ghosts could be unsettling. Tyler knew they weren’t scary; not really. But even when he was prepared to encounter the warped spirits, sometimes their looks still surprised him.
They were twisted, sad; mutations of what they once were in life. Their distress manifested both physically and emotionally: they’d have strange markings on their faces or horns; they’d wail and weep and rake their hands through their hair.
He knew it wasn’t their choice or their fault. It was just the afterlife reflecting the hard truth: they had died with unfinished business.
And Tyler couldn’t do anything to help them.
The mop bucket’s wheels whined as he rolled it back into the closet. He traded it for a vacuum, a duster, and a large garbage bag. Tyler didn’t look back at the ghost as he slipped his headphones on and strode down the hallway to the office’s cubicles.
He took quick stock of the large room – it didn’t look any different from usual, thankfully. The employees apparently hadn’t decided to throw a big party and trash the place (this time). And there weren’t any more ghosts, so that was another win.
Tyler thumbed through his Spotify, settling on a giant collaborative playlist he shared with Mark. As a song kicked in, he set the duster and trash bag aside and began to unwind the vacuum’s long cord.
The shift that night was uneventful. Tyler followed his typical routine: vacuum, pick up garbage, dust, wipe down the windows. He couldn’t deny that cleaning an office building from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. five nights a week was not exactly what had been in his five-year plan, but it was fine for now. And he could settle for fine.
At 2 a.m., Tyler noticed the spirit from the lobby make her way into the main office. She walked as if every step caused her pain, all the while never releasing the grip she had on her own fingers.
Before he could change his mind, Tyler quickly set down his duster, hastening to get in her path. He stopped a few feet in front of her and squatted, turning his face upward to try and catch her gaze. Her eyes bored straight into his, her irises faintly glowing a sickly green.
There was nothing there. No sign of recognition, no glimmer of any kind of emotion.
On she shuffled. Her pace never slowed, not even when her ghostly form rippled as it phased through Tyler’s body. He braced for the pins and needles sensation as it raced down his arms and legs, raising goosebumps as it went. Tyler shivered, teeth chattering. This was always uncomfortable; regardless of how many times it’d happened before, it always felt like the first. Unnerving, otherworldly. Grim.
Once the moment had passed, Tyler glanced over his shoulder to see if the ghost had any reaction. Once again, there was nothing.
Tyler sighed as he stood back up again. It had been worth a shot.
No matter how many times he’d tried over the years, none of the spirits could hear him or see him. They’d always perceive themselves as alone, dealing with the weight of whatever they’d left undone in life in a solitary state of existence.
That, more than anything else about his fucked-up situation, was what bothered Tyler the most.
As he went to grab his duster from the cubicle where he’d left it, Tyler pulled out his phone and frowned.
The lock screen seemed to be mocking him: it still displayed the time, but it was largely taken up by a battery icon with a cartoonish frown.
“BATTERY LOW,” it seemed to whine petulantly at him. The 1% in the top right corner just felt like overkill.
Huffing out an irritated breath, Tyler stalked back down the hallway toward the small front lobby. He was pissed he’d forgotten to properly charge his phone before his shift, but at least he’d shoved his charger into a jacket pocket before leaving.
His steps faltered as he got to the front desk.
There was a new ghost.
It was facing away from him, looking out the front door and seemingly into the night. Tyler knew it couldn’t hear him, but he held his breath all the same as he swept his gaze up and down the figure’s back.
It had broad shoulders and was holding its hands on its hips. In fact, it seemed to be holding on to the pose so tightly that its fingers were digging into its hip bones. Like it was trying to ground itself.
Most surprising was the shock of bright red hair on top of its head. Tyler almost felt the need to blink and rub his eyes to make sure its vibrancy wasn’t in his mind. But no, that was real, as real as the nearly-unnoticeable aura surrounding the spirit.
“Well you’re new,” Tyler said to himself softly.
Suddenly, as if in response to what he’d said, the figure whipped around to face him. Tyler flinched, heart jolting in shock.
The only thought being processed clearly in Tyler’s brain was: He looks normal.
The ghost made a choked, panicked sound as it locked eyes with Tyler. Its hazel irises were drowning in terror and confusion, and the expression on the rest of its face told the same story.
It took a shaky breath, focus never wavering from Tyler as it opened its mouth to speak.
“Can… can you see me?”