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“We’re actually ghosts. We haunt the flat.”
“You’re fucking with me,” Liam scoffs, still eyeing them warily. “You’re mad.”
“Remember the shaving cream?” Louis asks, slouching like he’s bored with the conversation. It does get a bit tedious revealing themselves every year and facing the same scepticism. “And the freak internet cut outs and things going missing but you were sure you remembered where you put them and everything else that doesn’t make sense? Ghosts, mate, you’re being haunted.”
Liam frowns again, and then he faints. He actually faints.
Or, Harry and Louis are ghosts who are intent on making Liam suffer.