Work Text:
The entity that often called itself Michael waltzed into the archives one fine morning. It wasn't supposed to be here, but if someone cared enough they would try to stop it, and if they tried to stop it they would get scared, and if they got scared then Micheal got a quick snack. It was a win-win situation.
So it was both a good thing and a bad thing when no one in the institute noticed the Distortion, and it was able to stride right through the archive doors.
Inside the Archivist was sat at his desk doing what Michael supposed could be archiving. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice Micheal walking behind him until it put its hand on his shoulder. The hand shouldn't work. It was way to heavy and jagged to be a real hand but that didn't stop it from resting on Jon, startling him out of his work.
In his shock, the Archivist dropped his tape recorder. The clang of it hitting the floor echoed in a way that overlapped and contradicted with Micheal laughter at just how amusing all this was.
"Hello Archivist," it said through peals of laughter. "How are you doing today?"
"Why," the Archivist said through gritted teeth "Are you here?"
Michael leaned in towards the Archivist until it could taste the fear and anger rolling off the disgruntled man, smile growing as it moved.
"I wanted to do what you do," the Distortion said, slowly reaching up to boop the Archivist on the nose. "Watch"
The sharp point of Michaels hand pierced right through the Archivist's skin, leaving a droplet of blood on its fingertip. Slowly the Distortion brought its hand to its mouth licked its finger clean.
The blood tasted like parchment and pine and spite, all things blood is not supposed to taste like, but that didn't bother Micheal one bit.
"Leave me alone!" The Archivist yelled, stumbling backwards into his desk, causing Michael to descend into another peal of laughter. When it had finally calmed down it could only manage one word, said over a huge grin.
"No"
---
Jon tried to go about his day normally, but it was nearly impossible with the loud, oscillating presence of the Distortion buzzing around him at all times. It sure didn't help that it was so dang touchy.
When Jon had been doing follow-up on case #0170701 Michael had draped itself over his shoulders and watched him work, making some comments that could be helpful if they were coming from literally anything else. When Jon was recording statement #0002202 Michael had knelt at Jons side and braided and unbraided his greying hair into shapes that should not have worked. Even when Jon went for his lunch break, the Distortion had insisted on following and had even tried to hold hands.
This got Jon to shove his hands deep in his pockets. None of Michael was exactly pleasant to touch, but Jon knew those nonsensical hands were the worst. He could still feel the sensation of the sharp point being pressed into his nose. It was not an experience he was keen to repeat.
After what felt like years, the day finally ended and Jon could go home. Normally if it was raining as hard as it was today he would have dreaded the long walk home, but he could make an exception. Eager to leave this day behind, Jon rushed from the office in a such a hurry he didn't even notice the door he used had not been there earlier.
Hit with a sudden headache, Jon emerged into an endless corridor with infinite of the same yellow door staring back at him. He could only blame himself for this. Michael had been hanging around all day, surely he had wanted something out of Jon. He just had to figure out what.
After only a few seconds of walking, trying to find Michael in this disorienting place, a door opened. When Jon peered in he saw what appeared to be his apartment. What trick was the Distortion playing on him now? He obviously wasn't going to step in he wasn't stupid-
All of a sudden the pain in Jons head shot white-hot and wall became floor. He couldn't see, but he could feel himself falling into that waiting door. A twisting laugh sounded in the background accompanied by a voice "Stay out of the rain!"
And then he was home. At least what looked like home. Sure, nothing was out of place or even felt off, but the lack of those feelings was a bigger indicator something was off.
Michael had to be playing some game here, right? And if not, well, that might be even scarier.
---
The next day Michael came back. And the next, and the next, and the next, for nearly three weeks. It was having to much fun to leave the Archivist alone, and the Archivist let it stay in part because he didn't really have a choice, but also because no matter how hard he looked into it didn't seem like Michael was spying on him.
This simple fact was enough to annoy and scare Jon and keep Michael full as long as they were together.
Eventually, Michael saw that the Archivist started to tolerate its presence. Maybe even enjoy it.
He started to leave his door open in the mornings, a pointless gesture, but one Michael enjoyed anyways. He stopped complaining about Michael, at least when Michael was around, and one time even initiated physical contact, reaching over to tap it on the shoulder when he had found something interesting while researching.
It was at this point Michael realized he had to go. Couldn't let things become predictable around here. Still, it would miss Jon in its odd way.
---
When the Distortion was gone, Jon should have been grateful. Should have gone back to work and been able to concentrate, instead of starting at the patch of floor where Michael always sat. Instead of missing a touch that was too sharp and soft at the same time
But he didn't.
He walked the long way home in the rain, getting drenched for the first time in weeks.