Roommate

“You should add ‘mancer’ to the end of your name.”

Nick looked up from his tea to the skeleton lounging on his couch. It tilted its head in a way that meant Mero, the ghost possessing it, was grinning.

He sighed. Mero would only get worse if he didn’t ask. “Why?”

The skeleton did its best approximation of a hum, tapping one boney finger against its chin, click, click, click. “Nicholas Row. Nicholas Row Mancer. Nick-ro-mancer!”

The skeleton tilted its head the other way, beaming.

Nick fought the urge to slam his forehead into the table. “For the last time, Mero, I’m not a necromancer!”

“You brought me back, didn’t you?”

Nick turned his back on Mero’s projection of innocent confusion, standing up to take his mug to the sink. The tea was cold now anyways.

“I’m not sure how you’re here, but I’m pretty sure I’d know if I’d performed a necromantic ritual.”

Mero had just appeared in his apartment one day, skeleton and all, and hadn’t left since. Nick almost wished he really was a necromancer because, surely, then he would be able to send Mero away and actually get some privacy. 

“That’s what you think,” Mero huffed, standing up to follow him and nearly losing the skeleton’s ratty, blond wig in the process. Nick didn’t know where the wig or the disturbingly realistic skeleton had come from and at this point, he didn’t want to know.

He looked at the wobbling skeleton skeptically. “Are you saying I could have summoned you on accident?”

“Sure, maybe. How should I know? I’m just a ghost.” Mero attempted a shrug and promptly lost one arm to the forces of gravity. They both stared as it clattered across the kitchen floor and under the table.

“Remind me to get some wire the next time I go out.”

“Can you pick me up some glue too? I’m tired of my hair slipping.”

“Yeah, sure,” Nick agreed. And he definitely shouldn’t have because now Mero was getting ideas. Nothing had particularly changed about the skeleton, but Nick could tell. Spend enough time around Mero and you started being able to get a read on the ghost’s emotions, even though the skeleton had no facial expression.

The skeleton leaned forward in excitement, leering skull inches from his face. The first few times this had happened, Nick nearly had a heart attack, but now he was used to it. Mero had no sense of personal space.

“Can we get a cat too? I’ve always wanted a cat, and its quite lonely here when you’re gone.”

Nick scowled.

The skeleton, somehow, pouted.

“Mero, don’t make me call a priest.”

***

“Are you… cooking?”

The skeleton, wearing an absurdly flowery apron that Nick knew he didn’t own, straightened from its looming position over the boiling pot, the skull turning slowly towards him. Blond strands of fake hair caught in its shoulder joint. “Yes.”

Without elaboration, Mero resumed looming. Nick blinked. Mero. The boiling pot. All still there. He set his bag of groceries on the table.

“So… What are you making?”

“Pasta.” Mero poked one finger into the pot, stirring around the noodles. If the skeleton had eyebrows, they would be furrowed. “It’s not done yet.”

“Alright then. I’ll… Leave you to it.” Nick slowly backed away, heading towards his room. Mero wouldn’t burn down the apartment. Right?

He worked nervously on his research paper for ten minutes before he heard the yelling.

“Nick! Nick, help!”

His desk chair tipped over as he jolted out of it, dashing for the kitchen.

Mero held out a jar of red sauce to him, defeated. “I can’t open it. Please help.”

Nick took a deep breath, relief warring with exasperation. He took the jar and popped it open. “Next time, just come get me.”

Mero happily took the sauce back, bones and glass clinking. “I couldn’t leave the noodles unattended.”

Nick slumped into a chair and rubbed his eyes, slowly coming down from the adrenaline high. He watched silently as Mero heated up the sauce.

At least the pasta ended up tasting pretty good.

***

Nick woke to a loud thump coming from the living room. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It had become increasingly common in the last few weeks for him to be woken up in the middle of the night by Mero’s antics. Just two days ago, Mero had decided to rearrange all his furniture.

Another thump.

Nick pulled a pillow over his head and scrunched his eyes closed. If he didn’t get up, he might be able to get a couple more hours of sleep before his 8 am class.

A crash.

He sat up, groaning. He was going to need so much coffee in the morning.

Screeching interrupted his slow shuffle down the hallway. Tripping over his own feet, he hurried into the living room and fumbled for the light switch.

Mero stood in the middle of the combined kitchen and living room, still screeching in terror. Across the room, hiding behind the overturned armchair, was a man in a balaclava. 

A man in a balaclava who, upon seeing the skeleton in all of its shrieking, wig-clad glory, also screamed in terror and made a break for the open front door.

Mero, suddenly brandishing a kitchen knife, moved to pursue.

“Mero, put the knife down!”

The skeleton froze, knife dropping to the floor. Nick winced as it bounced off of the skeleton’s foot.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Mero pointed accusingly at the open door. “That man was going to kill me, Nick.”

He paused, waited a moment. Mero stared back, completely serious.

“Mero, you’re already dead.”

The skeleton crossed its arms, put out. “Well, what if he’d killed you? What would I do then, huh?”

“Mero –”

But Mero hadn’t stopped. “How would I arrange your funeral? Where would I go? And you wouldn’t be around anymore and I’d be so lonely again and –”

“Mero. Mero, stop.” Nick held up his hands in surrender. “Everything is okay. Just, uh, take deep breaths?” How did you get a ghost-possessed skeleton to calm down?

A boney hug enveloped him. He carefully patted the skeleton’s spine.

“You aren’t allowed to die,” Mero said at last.

Nick’s eyes prickled with tears. He sniffed. “Thanks for protecting me.”

He didn’t end up calling the police about the robber. What was he supposed to say, “My skeleton roommate chased him off”?

***

Mero sat in the armchair, using the kitten’s paw to scroll through movies on Nick’s tablet. The kitten, named Bones for her white fur, was endlessly patient with Mero and let the skeleton get away with just about anything. In return, Mero didn’t care when Bones attacked the ratty wig or curled up in the skeleton’s rib cage to nap.

“I think I want to watch The Exorcist.”

Nick, flopped on the couch, looked over to Bones and Mero. They stared back, the kitten mimicking Mero’s head tilt perfectly. 

He mushed his face back into the couch cushion, groaning. “Why are you like this?”