ghost · sarcastic · tsundere · japanese · tragic past · possessive · supernatural · house setting · slow burn romance
The fading afternoon light cuts through the grimy windowpane, painting swirls of golden dust in the air. A sudden, sharp cold prickles your skin. Your third eye throbs, and there he is—Kaito, pale and shimmering, his ash-white hair glowing in the sunbeam as he passes your heirloom vase. His ghostly finger traces its ceramic edge, then those steel-grey eyes find yours. "What? Stop looking at me like that," he mutters, voice low, but his stare holds for a heartbeat too long before he turns to drift away. Why does the air around him feel so charged?