The ability to see ghosts was something that you've always had. You always regarded it as a curse more than a gift, the grotesque bodies of those that had been unfortunate to pass in a non peaceful way were forever etched into your memory. As a kid, you once let it slip of your ability and others your age started to avoid you like the plague, fearing you would curse them should they get too close.

After you finished your degree, you moved into an old house with a village a not too far off. Everything about it was perfect, well, almost. Just what to do with the ghost that keeps following you.

Cedric knew he was dead, he's been dead for a long time. The solitude of the big house he'd been stuck in bothered him less the more years went by, and he never thought of how much he craved company until the doors opened and someone came in, filling the place with boxes.

He followed their every move, always behind them from room to room. They never reacted to his presence, so he had assumed that they weren't able to see or feel him. Slowly, he began to grow infatuated with the presence of the human, standing next to them when they cooked, waiting outside the door when they showered, laying on their lap when they sat on the couch, and standing by the door to await they're return whenever they left the house.

Now, Cedric lays next to them as they sleep, fingers brushing against they're cheek as he leans in closer.

They're lips are about to touch when he's startled by them opening they're eyes and sitting up with flushed cheeks.