Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Are you sure you believe the rumors?" Needle asked, standing at the top of the stairs to the abandoned subway.

Match nodded, "Listen, like, super closely."

Needle and Match stood in silence for a few minutes, before a faint spraying sound could be heard. Then a few clanks, like something was falling. Whispers on the wind. Really creepy things, that could only really be explained in a few ways. Of course, most jumped to the first (and most obvious) solution: there were ghosts in the abandoned subway Needle and Match were standing at the top of.

It was obviously abandoned for a few reasons. The subway stop was quite far out from town, but a popular place for rebel teens. Needle and Match, ghost hunters, overheard a group of these teens talking about the "weird noises" at the subway. The territory was very run-down, broken signs and low-quality seating. More often than not, teens would be seen sitting atop the wall after jumping the metal fence of the walled-off subway.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Needle asked, "Should we go in?"

"Like, yeah, we like, should," Match replied.

Each step down into the subway echoed, the only flashlight between the two ghost-hunters guiding them down the stairs. None of their materials were showing anything too odd yet, so it didn't seem like there were ghosts at the entrance. But these ghost-hunters expected that, as from belief and rumor, ghosts hated the natural light. It would be a matter of time before they found their answer.

Match poked Needle's shoulder, "Look. Footprints, and, like, muddy too."

"They seem to be rather recent too," Needle pointed out, running her finger along one of them, "Definitely recent."

"Do you, like, think someone's also, like, ghost-hunting?" Match asked.

Needle didn't answer, her flashlight fixated on the wall.

Upon the wall of the subway was graffiti mark after graffiti mark. At first, they start out not so great, like a newbie. But as the graffiti markings go further down the wall, the better they get. Had someone been coming down here and practicing graffiti because the place was abandoned? There was only one way to find out.

Following the muddy footsteps and graffiti lined wall, Match and Needle were eventually met with, unfortunately, not a ghost. Instead, they were met with what looked like a beat-up rebel teen. Faint-pink streaks in dirty-blonde hair, tied up in a rough, loose ponytail. A simple headband, painter's mask, and piercing eyes that tried to hide pain behind them. A rough, torn up t-shirt, even though it was rather cold in the subway, bruises painting the artist's arm. Long, black jeans flowed down her legs, torn up in multiple places to look "stylish", but just made her look more like a street rat.

Behind the mask, the artist spat, "Get out. Now. Or I'll force you out."

"Woah, hey, we aren't here to hurt you," Needle explained.

"Yeah," Match added, "We were here to, like, hunt ghosts, and like, that stuff."

"I said to get out, idiots," the artist grumbled, "I don't want people here."

Needle seemed confused, "Why not?"

"You think I'm going to trust you with information when you believe in ghosts?!" the artist pointed one of her spray cans at Needle, "And don't think I'm afraid to use this."

"Woah, hey, we aren't, like, trying to hurt you," Match stood in-front of Needle.

The artist scoffed, "I've been told that lie enough times. So get out."

Match and Needle took the warning at this point and left. But something nagged the two of them about the artist. Lie? They weren't lying, they would never hurt another person! Did that poor artist actually believe they were lying over something that extreme?

Meanwhile, the artist went back to her graffiti, now way more on edge. If people kept coming after those two "ghost-hunters", she was going to have to relocate her safe-place. The one place where she isn't in danger.

Chapter Text

Reaching the surface of the abandoned subway, the first thing Needle and Match heard was five guys snickering. Of course, this would be the jock gang that started the ghost rumors in the first place.

One of the jocks - almost golden hair, varsity jacket, and iconic camera around his neck, noticed the two girls first, "Hey! Ghost hunters! Were there any ghosts down there?"

"Imagine. I could totally beat up a ghost!" Another one of them - bulky build, most of the time caught at the gym, with a white tank and sweatpants - joked, flexing his arm.

"No, there weren't any," Needle replied.

Match nodded, "Yeah, so, like, don't worry."

"But then," the smallest of the jocks, who was more or less just adopted into the group, with a frail body and blue cap, "What was making the noise?"

"You should, like, not worry about it," Match explained.

"Yeah," Needle added on, "It's for the best of you guys."

The jocks nodded, one with a red hoodie speaking up, "We get it. After losing... you know who, we try to be a bit more careful."

Of course, everyone knew what he meant. The jock group was originally six, not five, but that was before Knife's death. It was a really rough day for everyone, both to those who were close and not so close to him. Many went to Match and Needle and asked them to "find Knife and chat with him". Since then, the two girls had been looking for signs of Knife's ghost, but all the clues were dead-ends for now.

The girls nodded, walking away and letting the boys go back to their conversation. Once out of earshot, Needle sighed, "I don't get it."

"What do you, like, mean? The claim about us, like, lying?" Match asked.

"Yeah," Needle nodded, "Who would have to be hurt so badly that they believe we were lying about not hurting them?"

Match shook her head, "I don't, like, know. But I think we, like, have something else to, like, go with the ghost hunting."

"Figuring out what's with that graffiti artist?" Needle asked.

"Bingo," Match replied.

Needle thought for a moment, "Back to base?"

"Like, of course," Match replied, "We need to, like, lay everything out."

"You know, you could have let them stay."

The damn voice in Pencil's head was at it again. It only shows up when she was down here, when no one was around. Brash and rough, really annoying. The voice sounded so mean.

"No, I couldn't, stupid voice in my head."

"Hey, I'm not a voice in your head. I've told you before."

"You've never told me what you are, dumbass."

"For obvious reasons."

"What obvious reasons?"

"You don't believe in ghosts."

"Ghosts don't exist, stupid."

"Yes they do."

"No they fucking don't."

"I'm sick of arguing with you over this."

"Maybe just admit you're a voice in my head, then."

"So why do I only communicate with you down here? Don't you think I'd be communicating with you more frequently otherwise?"

"That's not the point, dumbass."

"I think that's very much the point. I can't be a voice in your head."

"Ok, so if you aren't a voice in my head, what are you?"

"A ghost."

"No, ghosts don't exist."

"Did you hear about the car crash that killed a teen that was your age and went to the other school?"

"Who? That 'Knife' guy, or whatever?"

"That's me."

"Hah. Funny."

"No, it's not, I'm actually him."

"I don't believe you, stupid voice in my head."

"Alright then, if you insist."

"Why don't you try talking to someone else?"

"Maybe because there is no one else."

"What about those alleged ghost-hunters?"

"Not the right time. That would have been a horrific time."

"How about you just shut up and let me do my shit?"

"Fine then. If you insist."

Pencil scoffed, going back to her graffiti. So stupid. Ghost hunters, ghosts even existing? Psssh, stupid lies for kids to believe. It was a little suspicious how things were starting to align, but that wasn't for her to worry about.