#ghost jon

Sorry that ive been pretty much dead for a while

ghost!jon, eudardjon, eddsworld, 1.5k words, eduardo, jon

CW:

death (not on-screen), memory loss, guilt, crying

-

Ever since he died, the world around him was muffled. As if he was underwater.

He had to strain to listen, and everytime he did that he just felt bad.

So instead of trying to listen, he just watched.

And he drowned.

Until he felt like he was being tugged. Tugged away from watching the stars through the window.

It was a strange feeling, like a fishing hook pierced his stomach, but he didn't feel any pain. He never did anymore. Nothing could even touch him. He just floated in the drowning void that was his death.

He started to move, slowly at first, before it, whatever it was, got stronger, and started to pull him faster.

He started to panic, and impulsively tried to grab the doorframe. His hand phased through it. Like it did with everything.

He was pulled down, through the floor, into the living room.

Gods, did he hate the feeling of going through things. It made him feel so… dead. Yes, he was a ghost, but it was sometimes nice to pretend he wasn't.

He looked around the living room (man, wasn't that a bitter name). His eyes landed onto a figure sitting in front of some kind of board.

Stepping closer, he saw the figure was wearing a loose green button up (was it green? Jon assumed it was, but he had a hard time seeing that much colour anymore). The figure was also crying.

Jon looked at the board, perching over the man's shoulder, seeing it was a- oh.

It was a ouija board. The man was trying to talk to him? why? Whoever it was was going to be disappointed when he learned that Jon couldn't even move the planchette, let alone move it enough to spell something.

The man sniffed, and Jon moved away from his shoulder, looking at his face.

Tears ran down it as he looked up and closed his eyes. Jon looked up as well, but couldnt see anything.

“Please. God. Please work. I need you.'' The man begged, and Jon found it so sad he decided to at least try, even though he didn't even know this man.

He found it surprisingly easy to move the planchette.

H. The first letter would be a H. What did that one look like again? It had three lines. 2 long, 1 short. Kinda boxy.

It wasn't that first one. It was too pointy. Then the next ones were too round. That one had too many lines, that one had three lines, but it was one long one and two short ones. The next one was too round, then-

Aha! 

He had found it.

The planchette shuddered over towards that letter, and jon sat- floated?- back, smiling to himself. He had affected something.

The man looked towards the board in surprise, and smiled tearily.

“Thanks, jon.” the man said. Jon tilted his head in confusion. How did this man know him? Were they friends?

Jon shrugged his confusion, before going to move the planchette again.

The man rushed to grab the pen Jon hadn't noticed at his side, and scribbled a hasty small H on the paper Jon had also not noticed.

I. That one was straightforward. Just one line. and it was next to the H too, how thoughtful! Jon smiled again as he saw the man laugh and wipe his nose on his sleeve before scribbling an I down next to the H.

H-I.

“Hey, buddy.” The man smiled weakly.

Oh. they must have been good friends, Jon realised. He felt bad for forgetting him, but then again, he forgot almost everything.

He did die, after all.

S-O-R-R-Y

The man's eyes snapped up to where Jon assumed the man thought he was (he drifted there, just to avoid the embarrassment for both of them.) the second he wrote down the last letter.

“No! Fuck no. o-of course its not your fault. God.” the man swore, tears pooling in his eyes again. Jon wanted to hug him.

I– C-A-N-T–R-E-M-E-M-E-M-B-

Jon wanted to cry. He stopped mid sentence. He fell to his knees, putting his hands over his eyes. He couldn't do this. He couldn't say that to this poor guy. Whoever he was, he was obviously upset. He couldn't just tell him " hey, i don't remember you!”.

What kind of friend would he be?

Soft sniffles filled the room, invisible tears hitting the carpeted floor, almost leaving a wet spot if you squinted.

The man's eyes practically glowed as he heard it. He backed against the wall, dragging the board with him. Jon sniffed and wiped his eyes as he was slowly dragged along.

“You can't remember, huh?” the man smiled sadly, opening his arms, as if to give the small ghost a hug. God, Jon wanted- no, needed to hug him right now. 

Sadly, ghosts can't hug.

Jon sat down next to the man, wanting to lean on him for comfort, but not wanting to feel the overwhelming burning that came from contact with living people.

The upset human looked in the space where Jon was, but knew that the human couldn’t see him.

“If I find out you're on the other side of me, I'm going to kill you.” he smiled. Soft giggles filled the room, and the man relaxed.

The man pulled a phone out of his pocket, opening an app with a circle, and three curved black lines. The background was green (that was green, right?), and the man clicked on another few links before soft music filled the quiet room. It felt familiar somehow.

“This was your favourite. I never really understood why you liked it so much, but it always made you happy.” The man explained.

“Oh, my name’s Eduardo by the way.” the ma- Eduardo smiled. Jon liked that name. It was nice.

“When we met you could never pronounce it, kept calling me edd-you-ardo.” Eduardo chuckled, clicking on another app, his phone showing lots of small squares, a different, tiny scene showing in each of them.

“It used to bother me a lot, but you grew out of it, so it was okay. You did go through a phase of calling me ‘eddie’ in highschool though." Eduardo reflected, scrolling down the very bottom and clicking on the first photo.

“This was when you went to that ‘young british violinist contest’ thing. I pretended to hate it, but… i dunno, when you started playing, you just looked so… happy. And calm. Like everything bad had gone away. I couldn't keep a smile off of my face when I saw you play. I don't think you really noticed though.” he explained, tilting the phone towards jon.

It was him, in a blue (?) button up. He had a fancy-looking blazer on top, and he held a violin in his arms. He had a soft smile on his face as he played it, the moment captured in time.

Eduardo scrolled to the next one, showing Jon a pleasant scene of his own- alive- face, black eyes lit up with dozens of tiny stars. He looked so happy, smiling up at them.

“I said you were stupid, for liking the stars so much. I actually love them. They remind me of you, now." Eduardo explained, looking at the photo intently, smiling at his memories.

Jon wished he could share them, but when he tried, his head felt light.

“This one is of my first proper art show. I only won second, but you were so happy for me. Gushing about how amazing I was, and how good my art was, and shit. I hated it. I waved it off, and scoffed, and rolled my eyes. I- i didn’t think i was worth it. You did. You always did.” He trailed off sadly, looking down.

Jon tried to swipe to the next photo, but only succeeded in glitching the screen out and putting his finger through the phone.

Seeing this, the ghost's friend laughed, and swiped to the next image. He shivered when he felt a chill on his shoulder, but grinned when he saw the photo was of an appalled looking jon covered head to toe in water.

Hours passed, and dozens of dozens of photos later, Jon had gotten used to the now-soft burning on the side of his face. He had rested his head on the human shoulder ages ago, and he was now used to the warmth spreading through his body. If you could call it that. It was strange. It felt like warmth. His attention went back to the person next to him, his head slumped low. He was asleep.

He had barely stopped yawning since it hit 4:29 on the top of his screen. Jon smiled and let his friend sleep.

He now knew a lot more about his old life, and the human that he used to love, apparently.

A small smile passed over his face as he lifted his cheek off of Eduardo, kissing the top of his head softly.

If Eduardo’s purple-wearing, blonde roomate found the green-clad man resting against the wall, an abandoned ouija board next to him, and a phone on 3% displaying a photo of Jon loosely gripped in his hand, then that would stay between them.

Summary: Eduardo was happily painting, until Jon decided to mess with him

Eddsworld (C) Edd Gould