Chapter Text
PART ONE: AMERICAN WHERE-GIRLS IN LONDON
“Welcome, guys, to our humble abode,” Charles had said with his arms splayed out, looking very proud of he and Edwin’s… home? “It's pretty aces, huh?” The other dead boy sat at a wooden desk in the centre of the small murky room, seemingly not as pleased by their new guests.
“Wow…” Niko looked very impressed by what Crystal couldn't even charitably call a kitchenette. It was like Tragic Mick's shop had a sadder English cousin.
“Yeah,” Crystal gave the place a once-over, “just how I remembered,” too much dust and not enough space for a couple of ghosts and a human, let alone two. The sudden thought that this might be a terrible idea crossed her mind.
“Just don’t… touch anything,” Edwin cut in with a deep inhale, and if it weren’t for the slight tilt to his mouth that Crystal had learned to read, she may have believed his disapproval.
“How aren’t they gonna touch anything, mate?” Charles moved his attention to Edwin, who raised an eyebrow, as was customary. “They live here now. You remember, yeah?”
“Yes, Charles, I somehow recall the conversation we had during our entire eight hour aeroplane flight.”
By that point, Crystal had already let go of her bags, and Niko proceeded to touch a possibly magical can of silly string – one of many scattered items in what Edwin had previously referred to as their ‘collection’. But Niko's nosiness didn't seem concerning enough for Edwin or Charles to avert their attention from each other.
“I knew this was about the plane!”
“Well, Charles, maybe I would have found our air travels more productive if you'd kept your film at earphone level.”
Charles smiled, “Alright, now you're just cranky…”
Their voices fizzled out. Crystal was trying to take it all in: the meticulous case filing system that Charles claimed was responsible for not making the boys’ afterlife literal hell; the strangely high ceiling, which had a window providing beautiful, natural grey lighting to the whole room; the dozens of cardboard boxes spread around with undisclosed objects that seemed to range from old clothing to glowing orbs. She had already seen all those things, of course – as she'd already been an unappreciated guest there in what felt like a lifetime ago –, but this was now hers somehow.
She kind of felt like running for the door.
Then a tiny laugh came from Niko's direction. The strands of ‘silly-string’ were slithering up her arms towards her hair.
“Oh, my God, Niko,” Crystal was ready to jump into action and take those things out, but nothing about her friend indicated that she was feeling even a smidge of concern for her own safety. In fact, she seemed really happy.
“It's fine, they don't bite,” she assured Crystal. “I think.”
Niko had worms made out of plastic clinging to her hair, the two ghosts she'd be moving in with were bickering away about the safety of aeroplanes, and her only living roommate was a girl who couldn't point to her home on a map. And still, somehow, she had a smile on her face. They would have to revisit the case of Niko Sasaki one of these days.
Those damn strings were just getting out of control, though.
Crystal inched closer to Niko. They seemed to agree that they should be as inconspicuous as possible, in case Edwin realised they'd already broken one of his rules of fiddling. So she was almost at whisper level, “Ok, I'm just gonna take these,” delicately removing a piece of red string from her friend's white hair.
Niko was staring at her.
Crystal offered the palms of her hands, which now contained several strands of colourful plastic flailing against each other, “Do you, like, want to keep them, or..?”
Niko gave her a small but genuine smile. She said, lightly holding Crystal’s wrists, as if it were a secret only they shared: “I think this is gonna be fun.”
*
Months later, the Dead Boy Detectives Agency still looked like a quirked up Victorian back-alley, but there was a clear shift in decorations if one were to venture across the hallway. Crystal and Niko were sharing an apartment space with the exact same floor plan as the office, except much better suited for their specific, living people, needs. At first, they had tried to live all four of them together, but, considering that the bath would have to double as a bed and that Edwin simply would not give up his ‘personal room’, they figured that renting the apartment in front was best for all. There were still pieces of Crystal, and especially Niko, over at the Agency, though.
In their first week out in the city, Niko had bought anything she thought was cute and that would make the place less ‘depression-chic’. So now the office entrance was adorned with a new surge of plastic kittens and single-pupil Daruma dolls. Crystal had made a point to buy several incense candles as well, because, as it turned out, two ghosts with no sense of smell can really make a place inhospitable.
Crystal and Niko’s apartment had come with its own set of particularities for sure, but the singing pipes were a small price to pay considering the five-and-dime rent that their elderly landlord often forgot to charge.
What had been giving them grief that morning, however, was a minifridge they'd been multi-using as a regular fridge and as a night stand. It would have to do as a repurposed cabinet for now, since Niko and Crystal had found themselves terribly busy after a few minutes with scotch tape hadn't fixed the electrical issue.
They were currently sitting on Niko’s bed – or the living room couch, depending on your persuasion –, surrounded by a mess of playing cards and whatever weapons from Clue hadn't already been lost. On Crystal’s lap was the plushie of a sea animal she’d never seen until Niko impossibly won it for her at a crane machine with flashing lights far more enticing than the prizes themselves. That had been the same day they visited the Japanese market for the first time and ate some noodles on the sidewalk.
Across from Crystal, Niko had a pink Post-it on her forehead with the word ‘dolphin’ written on it. Crystal wasn't sure what hers said, but it did make Niko laugh every time she asked a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.
“Am I… famous?” This earned Crystal another giggle.
Charles, meanwhile, was also hanging out in the girls’ apartment, but wasn’t paying attention to their game. He was very focused on Niko’s computer screen at the unfolded corner desk, cat-ears headphones and all.
Crystal preferred spending time in Niko's room to her own. She knew that sounded sad, but so was her bedroom. It had no personality: nothing looked like it belonged to her, except maybe the purple paint that she gave up on using halfway, resulting in an accidental feature wall. It was like the London sky had been made into a physical space the size of a walk-in closet. That’s another thing: it was always grey outside. Still, somehow, if you were in Niko’s room, that didn’t seem to matter. There were fairy lights, pink on almost every surface, drawings of guys on the walls. She brightened up those dingy windows.
Crystal should ask for help with a room makeover. Yeah, Niko would be excited about that.
“In some circles, sure.”
“What? Oh,” Crystal realised she’d been staring at her friend's iridescent nails for a few seconds too long. She was worried it might be turning into something of a habit. Niko gave her a slightly concerned look and almost started speaking, maybe to ask if Crystal was okay, which she was, but she didn’t get a chance to ask, which was also fine, maybe even better.
Charles had turned to them, obviously not having been paying attention to their kind of awkward interaction, with both eyes still fixed to the computer screen and speaking louder than he probably would without the headphones. “So what you’re saying, yeah, is these mates are ice-skating and snogging?”
Niko enthusiastically whirled in his direction “Yes! And isn't amazing how–” Before she could finish, they heard a loud shriek and more than one thud coming from the apartment in front. Charles immediately grabbed the closest thing to a weapon he was able to find – which happened to be an anime action figure – and the earphones fell as he speeded through the walls.
Their mornings always seemed to get busy anyway.