Six days; this guy had been here for nearly a week, and he still hadn't finished unpacking. Mike knew for a fact he didn't start work for another eight days, just like he knew that he was a lawyer, and that he dressed like a Hugo Boss model. For the time being, he'd kept busy by teasing the guy – moving the odd object every now and then, just for fun. It'd been way too long since the house had had a tenant, and he hoped that this one would stay around. He seemed a little uptight, but he had okay taste in music, and seemed like a generally decent guy. No weird fetishes that Mike could see so far, no drug habits – not that he was really one to judge there. His name was Harvey. Harvey Specter. Sounded like a comic book hero, but Mike liked it. And after following Harvey around a little and watching him sing along with his records and occasionally attempt a dance move or two as he gradually got through the boxes, Mike decided he kinda liked Harvey, too.

But, he didn't want to scare him off, which was why for the first month Mike kept himself out of sight. Once Harvey had started his job he wasn't home as much, but whenever he was Mike would take his token place on the couch and sit in silence as his tenant finished his work, reading over his shoulder, soaking everything up like a sponge. It was an odd coincidence that Harvey's line of work coincided with what Mike had wanted to do with his life; it made the evenings a little more entertaining at least.

Until however, he slipped up. It was late, but Harvey couldn't sleep. Mike by default didn't need to, so he'd accompanied Harvey to the sofa and sat with him as he switched between channels. It was when he'd flicked onto the movie menu that Mike let his guard down – 'The Godfather' was due to start in three minutes, and by reflex, he had reacted;

"No wait! Stay on this one!" He knew Harvey couldn't hear him – well, he thought he had. Because when the lawyer leapt to his feet and the remote went crashing to the floor, Mike had to admit he would have jumped out of his skin as well, if he still had any. Instead, he settled for yelling in fright and copying Harvey, staggering a few steps back with his hands up.

"The hell was that-"

"Where did you- Who are you?" Fully expecting there to be someone behind him, Mike turned round, assuming he'd come face to face with an intruder. But the doorway leading through to the kitchen was empty of everything but darkness. Now painted with a similar shade of confusion, Mike looked back at Harvey. He had his phone in his hand, then at his ear, eyes trained on Mike.

"I need police," with a quick glance down at Mikes shirt, he paused before adding; "and an ambulance." Mike didn't really listen to the rest of what Harvey was saying – he was too busy trying to work out how Harvey was talking about him when Harvey couldn't see him.

Unless he could. In which case, his hands came up in a gesture of surrender.

"No, hey – I'm not gonna hurt you." Hanging up the phone, Harvey snapped back. It was impressive; if he was nervous or scared, it didn't show at all.

"You've got five seconds to tell me what the hell you're doing here."

"Nothing –well, I mean I was going to watch TV but-"

"How did you get in here? Who did that to you?" Looking down at his bloody T Shirt, Mike quickly pulled his hoodie around himself to cover it.

"It's okay, look, just call them back – I'm not here to hurt you, I'm not-"

"You should have gone to a hospital, kid."

"Harvey, listen to me – I don't need help."

"I'm thinking you do- how do you know my name?" Wide eyes got a little wider for a moment as Mike tried to think of some way to wriggle out of this, not that he had many options to begin with. Well, now was as good a time as any he supposed.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

"But it will. Maybe."

"Look kid, I don't know if you're high or just – what the…" In the blink of an eye, Harvey was talking to thin air. When Mike reappeared a second later halfway up the stairwell, the lawyer could only stare back.

"Haven't been high for two years. This is gonna sound crazy, but, when the cops get here, you're gonna have to explain why you called them out for nothing."

"You never said how you knew my name, or who you are or how you got in here."

"...I know your name because I've watched you work, listened to you on the phone. You've mentioned it a couple of times. As for me, I'm Mike Ross. And I got in here…" his sentence trailed when red and blue lights flickered through the blinds, and in the moment that Harvey was forced to answer the door, Mike had disappeared again. Harvey was smart; he'd come up with something to make them leave. But Mike knew smart and open minded didn't always go hand in hand. He'd messed up, and now he knew he was here. As he listened to Harvey lie through his teeth about how his injured intruder had made a run for it, Mike could only perch on the top stair and wonder how long it'd be before Harvey moved out. Once they were alone again, Harvey rubbed his hands over his face – by the time they were back down by his sides, Mike was on the couch.

"That went well"

"Why are you here, Mike."

"I'm here because I can't leave."

"Oh? Please, enlighten me. Let me guess – crippling agoraphobia?"

"I wish…look, I'm sorry – I didn't mean for you to find out I was here."

"But why are you here, that's what you're not telling me"

"I'm here because I can't leave." Mike repeated patiently, hands wringing a little anxiously in his lap.

"I can't leave, because this is where I died."