Chapter Text
When the hanok first comes into view, Jisung can’t believe it’s really his.
“Watch your step here,” Mrs. Yang says, indicating to the steps leading up to entrance gate—yes, because this place has its own gate—steep and small but overarched with a traditional-style archway. “Watch your step from now on, actually. This place is very, very old.”
Jisung can’t say much in response—the house has just fully come into view, wide and tall with the fancy swooping rooftops he’s only seen in period dramas before, and he’s breathless. It’s got broad panel doors and white-painted outer walls, wooden shutters over the windows, and a set stone path leading up to the front door, like it’s a tiny little palace in the middle of Seoul. It is so very beautiful, and somehow, it is entirely Jisung’s.
Mrs. Yang steps on one of the stones ahead of him and it wobbles precariously, and she frowns down at it. “Very badly kept, I imagine this place hasn’t been lived in for near fifty years now. To be honest with you, we drew straws at the office for who would be the one to show you around today, Jisung. Not that being here is the short straw, dear, I’m very glad we could finally pass this off to you, but we do have a running joke that coming here is playing with your life. Just a silly joke, of course…”
“Yes,” Jisung says awkwardly. “Thank you, Mrs. Yang. I just can’t believe this is mine. It’s so—”
“Old?”
“—big,” Jisung says. “And old, too. And grand! It looks amazing, I can’t believe I’ve never been here. I never even knew my Dad owned something like this.”
“Yes, well,” Mrs. Yang sighs, sticking the key into the lock, oddly modern against the rest of the building. “I can’t say I blame him for not touching it, dear, wait until you see the inside.”
The door slides back to reveal a surprisingly bright room, wide and dusty, lined with full-length windowpanes along two walls. Through the opposing windows, he faces the unexpected delight of a small courtyard situated in the middle of the square building, completely overgrown with grass and weeds and tall, curling plants. Jisung gasps and quickly walks over to press his face against the glass, looking out to try and spot the paving slabs on the ground and anything else potentially covered by the weeds. Beyond the greenery, he can see the rest of the rooms that surround the courtyard from here too, all similarly empty but all facing in on the courtyard, windows covering all the inner walls.
“Wow!” he gasps. “This is amazing! This is like a house from a movie or something! Imagine if that was cleared up, it would look so romantic and pretty!”
“Well, I suppose it would,” Mrs. Yang says. “But you’d have to put a lot of time and effort into that, you know, it would be difficult work—and then you’d have to fix up the windows around it, not to mention the draughty walls, the broken tiles—”
“Yes,” Jisung agrees, still looking out through the windows, breath fogging against the glass. “Please tell me everything you know about this building so I know where to start.” He pulls out his phone and starts to quickly note down everything she’d just listed off. When he looks up, Mrs. Yang is staring at him with a peculiar little smile on her face.
“Well, aren’t you a bold one,” she says, turning and leading him into the next room. “According to our records, this house was first built in the 1430s. We’re not sure how much of the original house stands now, as it’s been remodelled and rebuilt many times over the years, but the layout and foundations remain the same. It’s currently barely safe enough to live in, frankly, but I believe this room here—” she gestures to the bare room they’re passing through, much the same as the entrance room, but a little narrower—“is the only one where the roof doesn’t leak, as you can see by the amount of water damage in this next room.” The next room is a square corner room at the back of the house with a number of strange ledges set into the walls, the wooden floor warped and discoloured by damage. “The windows certainly need replacing in this one, at least.”
It's as he’s noting down change the floor, redo the windows, watch out for mould, that his phone glitches strangely. For a second, the words change, but it’s so fast he doesn’t catch what they say. Then it goes back to normal, and he’s left stunned for a few seconds. His phone has never done that before.
“—nevermind the cost of repainting the outside, I’ll show you afterwards, but there’s a terrible case of graffiti at the back—Jisung, have you got that?”
“Graffiti, yes—” he says hastily, continuing to type again. “It’s a shame that it was left to get to this point. I can tell it used to be amazing.”
“It’s not that people didn’t make attempts. Look—” she slides open a door in the back, one that sticks out from the square formation of the rest of the house. It opens up into the first room to have any sort of furniture in it, the tiled floor and general layout clearly more modern than the rest of the house. “The couple who owned this place in the 60s—your great-grandparents, I believe—built this extension room to install some modern appliances. You have an oven and a grill here, and they wired it up with electricity and sockets so that you could even bring in a microwave, or a TV, or whatever you young people like to have these days.” She opens a door to the side to reveal a tiny bathroom containing a toilet, sink, and shower. “There’s even working plumbing. They were ready to settle down here, but in the end they only stayed for less than a year.”
“Why?” Jisung asks, looking around. There are cupboards built into the walls, along with a wide sink, plenty of drawers and a rickety old dining table. There’s a light that really turns on when he tries the old-fashioned switch at the wall, which turns on several other hidden bulbs in the house along with it—and when Mrs. Yang tries the tap, real water comes out, albeit a thick brown for the first few seconds. “Why go to all this effort just to abandon it?”
“They insisted the place was haunted,” Mrs. Yang says with a sigh. “Refused to go back. Said they’d seen horrors. What a waste. You don’t believe in things like that do you, son?”
“Erm,” Jisung says, looking around nervously. “I don’t think so?”
“Good lad, you’ll be just fine then. If you’re still planning on keeping this place, that is? We can always help you sell it, you know, I’m sure you’d get a good amount of money for a house like this even with the condition it’s in…”
“No, I’ve already made up my mind,” Jisung says, giving her a little smile. “My parents left me more than enough money to work with, and I really need a project like this right now. My friend has already said he’ll come and help me, and he’s good at this sort of thing, so…”
“Alright,” Mrs. Yang says, with something like dubious respect. “Let me tell you about the problem with the door back here, then.”
Jisung pulls his phone back up as she leads him out of the room, and for a second, his screen blinks black, glitching oddly again. Stark white against the dark screen, some strange English words are staring up at him.
S̵͕͇̼̙̘͉̯̀̓̊̍̈̓̔̈́́͊̐́̾́͘͝͠͝U̴̡̢̖̹̝͎͕̩̤̥̾̾̔͊͊̈̕͜ͅP̷̹̩͉̯̖̭̜̜̺̠͙̩͔̘̭̳͐́̇̍̑͛̾̓̿͘͝ ̷̧̛͙̲̇̊̇̐̃̈̾̃̾͘B̴̨̦̠͈̩̘̞̻͖̬͈̈̉͊R̴̹̜̱̞̪̩̥͛̇͑̈́̔̅̀̇͝O̸͕̭̼̺̦̖̰̤̎͘ ̸̜̜̬̏̒͆͂̐͗͌̕̚͠͝ ̪̳͖͔̠
Then it’s gone again, leaving him staring at his half-written note fix the hinges, don’t get robbed through the broken door.
“The door to the courtyard is here, but I’m afraid if I open these doors I won’t get them closed again for the amount of greenery in the way, so I’ll leave that one to you. I have all the keys here, so I can hand them to you as soon as we’re done here—”
It’s weird, because he didn’t even know it was possible for phones to glitch in such way. Where did that message even come from? He’s also got the formidable no service message in the top right, which he’s never seen on this phone before, so perhaps that’s what’s wrong with it. Maybe. He’ll go with that.
“There’s a ladder in this cupboard here, one of the past inhabitants installed a hatch into the ceiling so that the roof could be accessed—why they couldn’t just go up on a ladder on the outside, I don’t know—and if we pass through this archway, we’ve come back around to the last room. It’s a little less of a wreck than the other rooms, but not much to be said about it, really.” Mrs. Yang turns to him, face set. “I can give you all the information about the necessary repairs that were found in the evaluation report, and I can give you the numbers of repair workers we trust. We’ve dealt with a lot of old buildings like this, passed down through families, and it’s hard to repair them up to their old splendour, but it’s certainly doable. It takes a lot of time and dedication, yes?”
“I know,” Jisung says, pulling himself up to his full height. Then he slumps his shoulders again, because Mrs. Yang is already a head and a half shorter than him and he doesn’t want to be rude or anything. “I’m ready to put all my effort into this place. I want to keep it.”
“In that case, I wish you the best of luck,” Mrs. Yang says, taking his hand in hers and patting it firmly. “If anyone can do it, I can tell it will be you.”
Jisung walks Mrs. Yang back out to her car, where he signs a few documents by pressing them awkwardly against her car door window and scribbling his name along the bottom, then receives his thick folder of documents and the house keys in return. She drives away after that, and he’s left alone in this quiet street, standing in front of his very own traditional Korean hanok.
The first thing he does is get his phone out. He stares hard at it for a few seconds, daring it to glitch again, but nothing happens. So he calls Jeno.
“Did you get it?” Jeno says when he picks up.
“Yes,” Jisung says, and he can’t stop the smile from creeping into his voice. “The place is mine! You should see it, Hyung, it looks so cool! I still can’t believe there was something like this in the inheritance!”
“That’s awesome! Jisung, that’s so good!”
“Yeah, it really is. Do you want to come over?”
“Right now?”
“Yeah! It’s not far from your place, and all my stuff is still in your car, right? I was thinking I could move in today, get started on repairs right away.”
“Eager, much?” Jeno teases. “I can come now. I won’t pretend like I’m not dying to see it. Text me the address?”
“Will do,” Jisung says, turning back to his—his!—house. “See you soon?”
“See you soon,” Jeno says, and the call ends. Jisung goes into his messages to send on the address, and Jeno texts back with a thumbs up emoji, quickly followed by an OMW message right after. Jisung smiles to himself again, then pockets his phone and heads back towards the house.
The sun is starting to hang lower in the sky, casting the rooms in an orange glow through the grimy windows. The house is completely silent—he can’t even hear any cars on the roads from here, and if he has any neighbours, he can’t hear any noise from them either. He walks through the rooms again, under lightbulbs that flicker slightly in the rooms wired up to the power. When he passes the kitchen he flicks the light switch back off, because with the amount of light coming in through the windows, he doesn’t need them on quite yet.
He peers back in on the kitchen appliances while he’s there, surveying everything again. He doesn’t have any proper equipment here, but he can buy pots and pans easily enough tomorrow, and he and Jeno can get takeout tonight if there’s somewhere good nearby. Or if anyone even delivers here. If the house really hasn’t been occupied in over fifty years, they might not be able to find his address.
A sudden chill runs through him, and he shivers violently, jerking into the doorframe. It passes almost as soon as it arrives, and he does a full spin in place looking for the source of the strange cold. He can’t see any culprit here—no broken windows, no missing tiles in this part of the house. It hadn’t felt quite like a gust of air, anyway, but like something cold being pressed against him, the way cold hands against warm skin makes you squirm away. Weird. The hanok isn’t particularly warm, but it’s not that cold either. He’d been fine in his hoodie until just now.
He carries on around the building, eyes peeled for anything suspicious. There’s nothing of note until he reaches the room with the indoor ladder again, where he can hear a strange tapping noise—the rest of the house has been completely silent, but this room must have something loose somewhere. There’s not much here to be broken, though—it’s a completely bare room, no furniture, shutters firmly latched shut over the outer windows. The inner windows into the courtyard don’t have shutters, but nothing seems to be loose other than the sinking window frame. He shuts his eyes to try and gauge the direction it’s coming from, but it doesn’t help—he only starts to notice that the tapping isn’t that random at all. It has a rhythm to it. It sounds suspiciously like the tune of God Only Knows by The Beach Boys.
He opens his eyes to find himself looking up at the hatch in the roof above him. Maybe it’s something up there? A loose ceiling tile? He’s not a huge fan of heights, but it’s worth seeing if it’s anything dangerous. He starts towards the ladder, then pauses.
“I should probably wait for Jeno,” he murmurs to himself, looking back over his shoulder. As soon as he does the tapping stops, only to be replaced by an abrupt grating sound, considerably more alarming than the rhythmic tapping had been.
What if there’s something trapped up there? What if a tile could drop and hurt someone? What if it’s a little baby bird with its wing stuck? He couldn’t leave a defenceless baby up there alone!
He’s starting up the ladder before he can second guess himself. It’s sturdy enough, partially fixed to the wall, only creaking slightly as he reaches the top and pushes the hatch open above him. It’s heavy, but he manages to push it all the way out, and then he’s coming out into the evening air of Seoul over this quiet part of Junggu. The scratching noise stops, and he’s left in silence again, looking out over the green yard space below, the wall that runs around his house, and the curve of the street beyond. There are a few people walking along the streets around the house, but no one notices him sitting up on the roof above them.
“Wow.” He smiles to himself, looking out at the view. To think that this is his, now. A place all of his own, after wanting a real home for so long.
He turns his head to look back at the roof. Sure enough, like Mrs. Yang said, there’s work to be done. It’s not as bad as he’d presumed, though, with some parts damaged or missing but nothing that looks loose or dangerous. The roof doesn’t even look this bad over this particular room. There are no baby birds in distress, either.
“Weird,” he huffs, gripping the side of the roof with his hands to steady himself. He turns to look around one more time before he goes to duck back inside, balancing on the curve of the roof and holding himself in place by clutching the sides of the open hatch.
The setting sun glints off something and blinds him for a moment, so he lets go with one hand to shield his eyes. It’s a car, driving up the road slowly, coming to a crawling stop beside his house. Jeno’s car. Jeno’s here!
He raises his hand and waves. “Jeno! Hey!”
Jeno steps out of his car and looks around for the voice shouting his name. Jisung waves and calls out again, and Jeno looks up, eyebrows raising at seeing him on the roof.
“Jisung!” he calls. “What are you doing up there?”
“Just checking out the roof,” he replies happily. “Look at this place! Can you believe it’s really mine?”
“It’s amazing!” Jeno shouts back. “Come down and let me in!”
“Coming!” he shouts, turning around awkwardly to get his feet on the rungs again.
There’s something strange then. It feels like a pressure on his arms—like someone is holding onto him, but there’s nothing here but himself and the patchy roof. He goes to put one hand back on the roof, but he can’t move his arm.
“Jisung?” Jeno calls from the front gate, starting his way up the stone path below him.
“Hyung,” he says, voice wavering. “I’m—”
Then the force pushes him, hard. For a brief, terrifying moment, he is in the air, weightless—
The next thing he knows his back is killing him, his head is killing him, Jeno is now standing over him rather than below him, face close, saying something fast. Jisung can’t hear anything, but he can tell through his blurry vision that Jeno is trying to tell him something important. It’s confusing though—he hurts all over, can’t focus on anything. When he looks straight ahead, he can see the roof overhead, the hatch still propped open beyond Jeno’s face. His vision is swimming, and he must have fallen hard, because he thinks he can still see himself sitting up on the roof.
Jeno’s voice swims into clarity. “Jisung—Jisung, just stay awake, alright? The ambulance—”
It’s drowned out by the sound of shouting. A foreign voice, several voices, he doesn’t recognise any of them. They’re arguing with each other. Jisung can’t move, can barely breathe. His head hurts so much, and he closes his eyes again. His ears are ringing.
He can feel Jeno’s gentle hand on his cheek, can feel the hard rock under his head. Then he feels nothing else.
-
He wakes up ten days later in a hospital bed in Seoul, welcomed back to the world by a blurry Jeno bursting into tears at his bedside. It doesn’t do much to convince him that he’s actually awake at all, because he’s never seen Jeno cry for anything before, and he’s not sure why he’s doing it now.
“What?” he croaks, very intelligently. Jeno slams the button to call for the nurse, and Jisung would’ve jumped if he could move any of his limbs.
The nurse comes in and fusses around him and congratulates him for waking up, asks him to move this, wiggle that, how is he feeling, does he know who the President is, does he know who Jeno is?
“Of course I do,” Jisung says, very confused. “Why wouldn’t I know?”
“You hit your head very hard,” the nurse explains kindly.
“And the rest of your body,” Jeno supplies, having cleared up his tears and snotty nose but still speaking thickly. “They said you died in the ambulance.”
“I died?” Jisung yelps, jerking upwards, and yep, he certainly feels like he’s died when he tries to move anything.
“You’re very lucky to be alive, young man,” the nurse says, and then leaves to get his doctor or something. He’s left with Jeno. Just Jeno, staring at him.
They’re silent for a minute. Jisung avoids his stare, mind trying to catch up with what’s going on, but he’s still pretty lost. The last he remembers he was just walking around his house—his house!
“Hyung!” he exclaims. “Is the house okay?”
“Is—the house?” Jeno says incredulously. “Jisung, are you understanding what we’re saying? You nearly died! You nearly died in front of me!”
Jisung blinks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. What happened?”
Jeno softens immediately, but he doesn’t lose the tension in his shoulders, or any of the exasperation in his voice. “You don’t remember?”
“I remember being in the house. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to arrive. I don’t really know after that.”
“You were on the roof, for some God-forsaken reason. You fell right onto the stone slabs below, hit your head really hard, they said you had swelling in the brain… injured your shoulder, injured your hipbone, it’s a miracle you didn’t break your back but apparently the bruising and internal bleeding were pretty bad. The head injury was what they were most worried about. They said that once the swelling went down, they didn’t know when you would wake up. I’ve just been waiting for you.”
Jisung stares at him. “Oh. So that’s why you were crying.”
Jeno rubs at his eyes with a disbelieving laugh. “Yes, that’s why. Because I don’t want you to die, Jisung. The house is fine, by the way, I went back and locked it up for you. Didn’t peek inside. You can still show me around when we go back.”
Jisung gingerly pushes himself up against his pillows. “You still want to come back with me? Even though I’m an idiot?”
“If I know you, you’ll want to go back even though you nearly died there, right?”
“Of course,” Jisung says quietly. “Yeah, I do. Do you know when I can get out of here?”
Jeno shakes his head. “This is why I’m definitely coming with you. You need someone to make sure you don’t die again.”
Jisung smiles at him. “Thanks, Hyung.”
Jeno leans in, suddenly taking him into a very gentle hug. “Don’t do that again. Okay?”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, a little awkward. He must smell awful after so long in bed, and he and Jeno aren’t very touchy friends on a normal day. But Jeno sniffles slightly into his shoulder, and Jisung delicately rests his head against the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. Trust you to fall and die in your first proper week of adulthood.”
“Shut up, Hyung.”
-
He’s discharged just over a week later, mobile enough to tie his own shoes and put on his own clothes and walk around without help, even if he does get a bit out of breath and achy after doing it for too long. The doctor gives him orders to rest as much as possible, to do some regular exercises at home to build up his strength again—light walking and stretching only, no heavy lifting—and to come back for his check-up and physiotherapy appointments over the next few weeks. He’s still getting headaches and dizzy patches from the head injury, as well as some strange moments of seeing figures walking through walls, so the doctor warns him against driving or dancing and tells him to watch out for any other symptoms. If anything gets worse, to give him a call.
And then that’s that. He’s ushered out of the hospital and into Jeno’s car, headed back towards Junggu. A fresh start, take two.
“So, clearly I didn’t do this right the first time, so please just pretend you’re seeing it for the first time now, okay?”
“Got it,” Jeno says, turning into Jisung’s road. “Shall I pretend I don’t know which house it is, too?”
“No, you don’t need to go that far,” Jisung says, peering out of the window. He’s half forgotten what it looks like himself, what with the brain injury and all. “Oh, it’s this one!”
“Wow, I nearly forgot for real,” Jeno says, parking his car in front of the fancy gateway and cutting the engine. Jisung struggles to unclip his seatbelt, and Jeno hops out of the car quickly to come around to his side.
“I can get out on my own, you know,” Jisung huffs, ignoring the slight dizziness as he stands up.
“Yeah, but I don’t know what might happen to you next. Maybe this house is cursed. Can’t be too careful, can we?”
“Cursed, right,” Jisung says. “It’s old, but that doesn’t mean it’s evil or something.”
Taemin’s Move suddenly blasts from Jeno’s pocket unprompted. Jeno pulls his phone out and squints at the screen. “Oh, it’s Jaehyun. He’s my friend, he said he’d come over and help me with some of the bigger fixes you mentioned, maybe bring some other guys too. Some of the stuff I can’t do on my own, you know?”
“You’d better answer his call out here. There’s no reception in the house.”
“You remember that, but not falling off the roof?”
“Yeah, I do,” he says, suddenly remembering the strange message on his phone from before. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but that was definitely weird. Maybe there really is something off about this house after all.
“You’re weird,” Jeno informs him, before answering the call. “Hyung, what’s up?”
Jisung pulls a face at him and starts up the stone path, feeling Jeno’s eyes on his back as he goes. He won’t go far, but he might as well unlock the front door while he waits. He pauses uncomfortably at the loose stone slab Mrs. Yang had stepped on before—it’s a red around the edges now, the stain seeping into the surrounding grass. This must be where he hit his head. He stares at it for a few seconds, then shakes himself and carries on to the door, not wanting to linger there long.
The front door slides open easily enough, and the front room looks as sparse as he can remember it being before, like nothing even happened here. It’s not as quiet as before, though—as soon as he opens the door, he can hear a strained shouting coming from one of the rooms to the left, and he startles back, listening. No, it’s not shouting—it’s singing. Really loud, off-key singing.
He looks back for Jeno, but he’s still stood by the gate, facing the ground now as he talks on the phone. He remembers Mrs. Yang’s warning about the door at the back being too easy to open with force, and gulps, stepping quietly towards the doorway into the next room and peering around the corner very slowly. The voice is singing Hit Me Baby One More Time loud enough that Jisung can’t even hear his own footsteps, so he should be safe as long as he’s not spotted.
He peeks around the doorway cautiously until he sees the guy lying on the floor, eyes closed, a pair of headphones at least two decades old over his ears. They’re attached to a CD Walkman on his belt, which holds up some very loose red tracksuit bottoms, matching with his red tracksuit top and an unnecessary denim jacket over that. The boy is also wearing thick white sneakers and has weird blonde streaks in his dark hair. He’s so into the Britney Spears song he doesn’t even notice Jisung coming in. He doesn’t look like a thief—not that there’s much here to steal.
“Erm, hello?” Jisung tries. “Are you one of Jeno’s friends?”
The boy’s eyes open and he spots Jisung, then sits up quickly, cutting off his singing and pulling the headphones down around his neck. “Oh, you’re back. Guys, the kid from before is back! He’s alive!”
“What?” someone shouts from somewhere else in the house. “Jisung is back?”
“How did you guys get in?” Jisung asks. “The door was locked when I came in just now.”
The guy stares at him, and Jisung stares back. Walkman boy continues to stare, open mouthed, then points a finger to his own chest. “A-are you talking to me?”
“Yes,” Jisung says, blinking. “You are Jeno’s friend, aren’t you?”
“Wow, he really is back!” a voice says from the doorway, and Jisung looks up to see another man standing there, and he’s in even stranger clothes. The faded long-sleeved jeogori and baggy baji make him look like he’s several hundred years out of time, but he’s got a sweet face, like he’s not much older than Jisung. “He must have a strong head.”
“Donghyuck,” the first boy says, hushed. “He’s talking to me.”
“What are you talking about?” Donghyuck asks.
“He’s looking at us,” Walkman says in a whisper, still staring at Jisung.
“Yes,” Jisung says, completely lost. “Sorry, am I not supposed to?”
“Where is he?” another voice shouts from somewhere close. “Where’s my Jisung-ie?”
“Jaemin!” Donghyuck screeches, now also staring at Jisung like he’s grown another head. “Come here! He can see us!”
“What?” the voice shouts back, pitch turning up ridiculously with the word.
“Why wouldn’t I be able to see you?” Jisung asks slowly. He’s really missing something here. Is this a prank?
Donghyuck steps closer to him. “You’re not actually dead, are you?”
That startles an awkward laugh out of Jisung. “Last I checked, I made it out of the fall alive.”
“What’s going on?” the voice of Jaemin asks, now in the doorway beside Jisung, who whips around to face him. He’s another young man, also in traditional clothing, but a fine hanbok and gat this time. He can tell it’s expensive, well made, if ruined by the big messy stain in the front of it, dark, looking suspiciously like—
“Oh, God, you’re bleeding!” Jisung exclaims, clenching his hands in front of him. He has nothing to help this strange injured man and his cosplaying friends with here, but maybe there’s something in the car—“Jeno, come quick!”
“Oh, he’s so cute,” Jaemin gasps. “You can really see me? You want to help me?”
“O-of course!” Jisung says. “What did you do!”
“Oh, this? I was stabbed. But that was about 600 years ago, so there’s not much to do about it now. Thank you for trying, though.”
“What—what are you—”
“Jisung!” Jeno says, bursting through the front door. “What’s wrong?” He speed-walks through the front room, coming towards Jaemin but looking at Jisung, then he passes right through Jaemin—right through—right through Jaemin—
“Oh my God, oh, no, God,” Jisung says, backing up into the room away from Jeno. “You just—he—”
“Ooh, who is this?” Donghyuck asks. “Is this the guy you mentioned before, Jaemin?”
“Yes, that’s Jisung’s nice friend!”
“Why didn’t you say how handsome he is too?” Donghyuck asks, sidling up closer to Jeno as Jisung watches, horrified that Jeno doesn’t seem to notice any of this.
“Jisung, you need to calm down, take a deep breath,” Jeno implores him, taking both of Jisung’s wrists in his hands. “It’s just me. You know me?”
“Of course! Of course I do, it’s not you, its—its—”
A new, cheery voice joins the fray. “Oh, they’re back!”
It’s a short boy with a wide smile, coming up beside Donghyuck and watching Jisung with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing the weirdest outfit yet, what looks like some old-timey Chinese battle armour.
“What’s all this shouting about?” a fifth voice says, and another young man comes up beside Jaemin. He’s wearing a slightly more modern military uniform, but like Jaemin, it’s stained red in the front. He has three bullet holes in his shirt, and Jisung can see right through one of them to the room behind him. He can feel himself breathing too fast, can’t take his eyes off this man who looks not much older than him, standing in the room with holes in his chest—
“Jisung,” Jeno says, voice commanding. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Speak to me, okay?”
“He can see us,” Walkman boy says to the bullet hole guy. “Jisung, he’s come back, he’s alive, and he can see us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bullet Holes says.
Jisung covers his face with his hands and lets out a ragged breath. “There are people,” he whispers. “Please tell me you can see the people, Jeno.”
Jeno pulls his hands away from his face and replaces them with his own palms. “There’s no one here but me, Jisung.”
Jisung looks over his shoulder at the boy in the armour. “Are you serious?” he’s saying, voice high pitched and garbled. “He can see us? We have a new friend?” He starts waving his hands over his head. “Can you see me, Jisung?”
Jeno’s hands gently but firmly pull Jisung’s face back around. “Look at me, Jisung. Just look at me. I promise you that we that we are the only ones here. The doctor said you might see things, right? One of the side effects of the injury, he mentioned hallucinations. It’s probably that. They’re not really there, okay? They’ll go away if you give it time.”
Donghyuck hooks his face over Jeno’s shoulder, smiling at him, but Jeno doesn’t even flinch. “Hello, handsome. Is he sticking around too?” he asks Jisung.
“Do you promise?” Jisung asks Jeno.
“I promise. We can leave, you know, if it’s too much to be back here.”
Jisung shakes his head. “I—I just want some fresh air. I’ll be okay. Wh-what about your friend, is he coming over?”
“He said he couldn’t come today, which sucks, but he’ll come around later this week to help me with some stuff. Do you want to sit outside for a bit while I look around?”
“We can go into the garden too, you know,” Bullet Holes says, and Jisung flinches.
“Actually, it’s okay, I’ll just sit in here and take a breather for a minute. I’m sorry, this is such a mess, I can’t even show you around like I wanted.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Jeno flashes him one of his reassuring smiles, the type that Jisung likes best, where his eyes curve up so cutely. It makes him feel marginally better. “I’ll make us something to eat, actually, I’m starving. You want to come and sit in the kitchen with me?”
“No, it’s too cold in there,” he says, and Jeno wordlessly helps him lower himself to the floor to sit against one of the windows. “Mrs. Yang said this is one of the warmest rooms in the house.”
“Really?” Jeno shivers slightly. “It feels cold to me.” Jisung stares at where Donghyuck is blowing on Jeno’s neck, hands hanging from his shoulder, peering at Jeno’s face as he anticipates a reaction.
“Really?” Jisung asks weakly. “Oh.”
Donghyuck giggles to himself, watching as Jeno pats Jisung’s leg once before standing and slowly leaving the room, as if he’s waiting for Jisung to change his mind and call him back. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere!”
Then Jisung is left alone in this room, backed into a corner with five strange men looking down at him. Or, not men—hallucinations. Head injury visions? Whatever they are, Jisung is quickly rethinking all his decisions leading up to this point. Does he have to stay here after all?
“Well, that was interesting,” Bullet Holes says, crossing his arms. “Are you two really planning on staying here?”
Jisung closes his eyes, trying to even out his breathing. “They’re not really here. There’s no one else there. You’re just seeing things.”
“Jeno is such a good friend,” Jaemin coos. “That was so nice of him! I’m glad you have him to look after you, Jisung-ah.” His voice comes closer as he talks, and Jisung’s eyes snap open to see Jaemin sitting down next to him, wide smile slightly scary, his mesh hat partially disappearing into the wall behind them. “So, you own this place now? And you’re going to repair it up, right? Make it beautiful again?”
“Really, really convincing imagination,” Jisung mutters to himself, finding himself staring at Bullet Holes again, who’s frowning at him.
“It’s rude to stare, you know,” he says.
“Renjun, be nice,” Battle Armour says. “He’s probably never seen someone with bullet holes through their torso before!”
“Wait, stop and think about this for a second you guys, this is probably really freaking him out,” Walkman says. “It’s freaking me out, actually. Have you ever had someone living be able to see you before, Jaemin?”
“There was this one girl in the 1700’s,” Jaemin muses. “Do you remember her, Chenle? She came in, looked right at me, then screamed and ran out again. We never saw her again after that.”
“Does that even count?” Battle Armour—Chenle—asks. “She might’ve just seen a bug behind you or something. Or her own reflection in the window.” He snorts at his own joke, looking around for a reaction.
“What I’m trying to say,” Walkman stresses, “is that he’s probably so confused right now. We should probably introduce ourselves, right? Since we’re all going to be sharing a house now.”
“We’re not sharing a house,” Jisung whispers. “You’re not real. Why are you all so loud if you’re not real?”
“They’re just like that,” Renjun says. “It won’t make a difference if you believe in them or not.”
“So, my name is Mark,” Walkman begins, hand to his chest, crouching down in front of Jisung. Jisung finds he’s the only one he can really stand to look at, the only one who looks kind of normal. “I died here in 1999 when I fell off the garden wall. It was really dumb, actually, I shouldn’t have been walking along it at all. I’ve got the most boring death, so you’re better off asking anyone else here about theirs instead. What year is it now, by the way?”
“What do you mean, you died?” Jisung whispers in abject horror.
“Well, what else do you think landed him here with the rest of us?” Chenle says.
“Jisung didn’t die, and he’s still here with us,” Donghyuck points out.
“Actually, I did,” he says, and all eyes turn to him. “They said I died for a few minutes in the ambulance.”
“Oh, that must be it!” Jaemin exclaims too loudly, and Jisung flinches away. “That’s why you can see us!”
“So now I’m like you guys?” he asks, tentatively. “What… what are you guys?”
“He’s a bit slow, isn’t he?” Renjun says dubiously.
“Seriously, like it didn’t take you days to come around when you died? I think Jisung is giving in pretty fast in comparison, and he’s not even dead,” Donghyuck says.
“Jisung, my baby,” Jaemin says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll get straight to the point. We’re ghosts.”
Jisung stares at him. Jaemin looks back, eyes wide and encouraging. Then he looks around at each face, the wounds, the clothes they’re all in, the way Jaemin speaks so strangely—
“Jeno’s back!” Donghyuck exclaims, right before Jeno walks through the doorway behind him. “Hi, Jeno!”
“I just made us some ramen, because I didn’t really want to leave you for too long, and it’s not like we’ve got much in right now,” Jeno says, walking straight through Chenle to sit down in front of Jisung, placing the pot on the floor between them. “We can order in some proper food once we get the car unloaded, yeah? Or once I get the car unloaded, I guess, since you’re not supposed to be doing any lifting.”
“Wow,” Mark says, staring at the pot between them. “It’s the first time I’ve seen proper food in—what year actually is it, Jisung?”
“2021,” he mutters, taking his chopsticks from Jeno.
“What the hell, 22 years?” Mark says, bug eyed. “It’s been that long?”
“Yes,” Jeno says, staring at Jisung oddly. “That’s the year. Are you hearing things as well as seeing them right now?”
“Something like that,” Jisung says. “Thank you for the ramen. I think I might need a nap after this.”
Jeno watches him for a long moment. “Okay. But let me know if you carry on seeing things, okay? If it gets worse, we can go back to the doctor. You don’t have to struggle on your own.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, trying not to look at the way Donghyuck is sitting right beside Jeno, staring at him without blinking, their faces way too close together. If Donghyuck were real they’d be touching all over, but as it is Jeno just carries on eating, occasionally swinging his elbow into the space where Donghyuck is sitting. “I will do.”
“He’s so beautiful,” Donghyuck says, resting his face in his hand as he gazes up at Jeno. “I’m in love.”
“You’re only saying that because this is the first guy our age who’s been here since Mark died,” Chenle says.
“Do you have eyes?” Donghyuck huffs. “I’m saying it because he’s gorgeous!”
“I think Jisung is much cuter,” Jaemin smiles, still sat right next to Jisung. “Though Jeno is very nice too!”
“You all need to get out more,” Renjun says, turning to leave the room.
“Just because you haven’t been trapped in this house for hundreds of years like the rest of us doesn’t mean you get to act all high and mighty, Renjun!” Donghyuck shouts after him, resting his head up against Jeno’s shoulder as he does. Jeno shivers when he presses his nose into his neck.
“I still think it’s cold in here. You sure this is the warm room?” he asks Jisung. Jisung is in the middle of swiping frantically in Donghyuck’s direction, gesturing with his hand and widening his eyes at him in a motion to get away from Jeno. He may be kind of terrified of these freaky ghosts/hallucination people, but he still doesn’t want Jeno to catch a phantom cold or something.
Donghyuck wrinkles his nose at Jisung and backs up slightly. “Alright, fine, calm down. No need to get fussy.”
Jeno is staring at him strangely again, and Jisung half-heartedly waves his hand around as if swatting something. “Ah, just a fly,” he says. “Think I got it. Yes, I’m sure this is the warm room. Want to sleep in here tonight?”
-
They roll out the sleep mats next to each other after the windows and roof in the room have been checked by Jeno, and the hinges on the back door fixed at Jisung’s request. His boxes of belongings have been unloaded from the car and stacked in the first two rooms, the night sky has become visible through the windows to his left, and Jeno has fallen asleep on the mat to his right.
And Jisung is considering going to sleep in the car instead, because there’s no way he’s getting any sleep in here.
“Think about it,” Donghyuck is saying. “He’s the first connection to the living world we’ve had, ever. We should use this. Can’t we ask him to decorate separate rooms for us? Then we can stop fighting over space all the time!”
“You’re forgetting that this house isn’t ours, it’s his,” Renjun is saying. “He has no obligation to do anything for us.”
“It’s more our house than it is anyone else’s. Jaemin has lived here for 600 years!”
“I’m not sure you can call it living when we’re not alive,” Jaemin points out, voice low. Jisung can only just hear it from the next room. “But Jisung is nice, I bet he would help us out if we asked him!”
“He barely even believes we’re real,” Mark says. “Not that I blame him. I didn’t want to believe you guys were real after I died either.”
“Thanks, Mark.”
“I’m just saying.”
“What are we sat around talking about it for? Let’s just go and ask him now!” Chenle’s voice pipes up.
“Chenle, no, come back—” Jaemin says, and the voices start moving about. “It’s rude to wake someone up when they’re sleeping! Jisung is injured, he needs his rest!”
“It’s alright, he’s not asleep anyway,” Chenle says, voice now right over Jisung, who jumps so violently he almost whacks Jeno in the face. He can only just make out Chenle’s outline in the dark, standing over Jisung in front of the faint light from the windows. “Hi Jisung! Will you buy us some games? Maybe a pet? It gets really boring around here with nothing to do. If we had a dog, she might be able to see us and play with us!”
Jisung blinks up at him. “I can’t. Jeno is allergic to animals.”
“Allergic!” Chenle exclaims, glaring at the sleeping Jeno. “What sort of excuse is that?”
“Leave him alone, it’s not his fault!” Donghyuck says, appearing in the doorway.
“Fine, then can you buy us the little mirrors that people always have these days?” Chenle barrels on, crossing his arms over his chest. “I want one, everyone else has one.”
“Little mirrors?” he asks, weakly.
“Yes! I always see them in people’s hands when I go and watch the people on the street. They look at them and pull faces like this.” He holds his arm out in front of him and pulls a duckface. “Or they look at them really intensely while they tap them, or they talk into them like they’re having half a conversation. Mark put a message on yours when you came here for the first time.”
“I told you, Chenle, they’re not mirrors,” Mark says. “They’re like, really fancy pagers or something.”
“Oh, you mean my phone,” Jisung says, sitting up and reaching under his pillow.
“That’s a phone?” Renjun says, staring at where his screen is lighting up for him, checking his thumb print.
“What’s a phone?” Jaemin asks.
“Wow!” Mark says, as he and Chenle crowd around Jisung to watch him open the camera app. “It’s a cell phone, isn’t it! They look like this now? That’s amazing, seriously! Wow, dude, that’s awesome.”
“Yeah. They’re a lot more than just phones now. They’re also cameras, and they can give you directions, and you can order food or watch TV or send messages to people. When you see people pulling faces like that, they’re taking a selfie. It’s like, a picture of yourself. Come here.” He holds his phone out in front of him, with Mark staring at it from his right and Chenle throwing up a peace sign on his left. He feels a little foolish for taking the selfie when he realises he’ll be the only one to show up on it, but Chenle is leaning over his shoulder eagerly to see the result anyway.
“This is so cool,” Chenle gushes, watching Jisung swipe to the picture of his own sleepy face in the dark.
“So you can take pictures and view them right away?” Renjun asks, peering at the screen from behind Jisung too.
“Yes, exactly that. What year are you from, Renjun?” he asks.
“I died in 1952,” he murmurs, looking at the picture of Jisung intently. “The world has moved on a lot since then.”
“Yes,” he says, quietly. Under the dark of night, these ghosts aren’t so out of place in his house. They seem gentler, ironically more real than they did in the daytime.
“Look, Mark kind of showed up!” Jaemin says, pointing at Jisung’s screen. “You really are tuned into these techno-thingies, aren’t you?”
Jisung looks at where he’s pointing—all he can make out are some strange white smudges that he’d put down to the grainy quality of the camera in the dark, but it is weirdly shaped right where Mark was sitting. Huh.
“Oh yeah!” Mark says, clapping his hands together. “Jisung, can you get us a radio? I want to see if I can still do the thing!”
“Oh, that was so fun before!” Chenle exclaims, bouncing in place. “Jisung, please get us a phone and a radio!”
“What can you do with a radio?”
“Sometimes when cars park on the street right outside the house, I can mess with their radio. Change the stations and stuff. It’s so funny seeing people getting all confused.”
“And you can interact with phones?” Jisung asks. “You sent me that message before, too?”
“Yeah,” Mark grins. “It’s kind of tiring for me, but the others were all telling me to try and talk to you.”
“Can you all do things like that?”
“Kind of,” Donghyuck says, and Jisung turns to see him lying with an arm over Jeno, cuddling up into his side. “Jaemin can make the lights flicker, but the rest of us can’t interfere with tech-gology. Chenle can make some tapping noises if he tries hard enough, and I can make people feel cold.”
“Did you like my song for you when you came the first time?” Chenle asks eagerly. “We haven’t heard much recent music since the last people moved out, but I hoped you would still recognise it.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t really remember what happened before I banged my head. I’m sure it was good, though,” he offers Chenle, who only deflates slightly.
“Then I’ll do it again for you now!” Chenle puts one hand to the floor and starts tapping in a rhythm. He’s singing along with it, too. “The world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me?”
“He can hear you now, you idiot, you don’t need to tap it for him.” Renjun says, leaning up against the wall indifferently now that Jisung has let his phone screen go dark in his hands.
“What can you do?” he asks Renjun. “If you all have different ghost powers?”
“Ghost powers,” Jaemin grins. “That’s cute. I like it.”
“Renjun’s is the coolest,” Donghyuck says.
“I can push things,” Renjun replies, eyeing up Jisung carefully. “When I put effort into it.”
Jisung blinks at him. “Oh. Cool.” He turns around to face Donghyuck again. “Donghyuck, can you please not do that? Jeno will get really cold if you cling onto him all night, won’t he?”
“I was only making him cold earlier so he would notice me,” Donghyuck pouts. “I just want to hug him now.”
“But still,” Jisung says weakly. “He doesn’t know you’re there, so it’s kind of… you know, it’s not very… good.”
“Get off Jisung’s boyfriend,” Jaemin orders. “We should let them sleep now, everyone.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Jisung says, going warm in the ears. “Really, he’s just my friend. My best friend.”
“We used to call them best friends back in my day, too,” Jaemin says with a wink. “Nothing much changes in the world, Jisung, let me tell you that. If you want some privacy, don’t worry, I can make sure the others don’t bother you!”
“I—we’re not, it’s not like that—”
“If we leave you alone now, will you buy us a radio, Jisung?” Chenle asks.
“I—yes, I can get a radio—”
“Okay!” Chenle exclaims, jumping up again. “In that case, good night!”
“Do I really have to leave Jeno?” Donghyuck whines, and Jaemin goes over to grab his arms and haul him up to his feet. So the ghosts can touch each other, but he and Jeno can’t touch the ghosts. But they can do weird stuff to him and Jeno. Seems unfair.
“Yes, you’ll see him again tomorrow, but we need to give the babies some privacy right now. Go and sleep in your normal room, won’t you?”
“This is my normal room,” Renjun grumbles, scuffing his shoe against the floor though it makes no noise.
“Then you will just have to choose one of the eight other rooms from now on, Renjun, it’s not like we’re stuck for space here.”
“Goodnight, guys. See you in the morning,” Mark shouts, making his way through the house as Renjun leaves in the opposite direction. Chenle is long gone, and Jaemin is pushing a groaning Donghyuck into the next room, but he stops at the doorway to blow a kiss to Jisung.
“Goodnight, Jisung-ah.”
“Good night, Hyung,” Jisung says, before he can think too hard about calling a 600-year-old ghost hyung. Jaemin winks at him, then bodily shoves Donghyuck into the next room.
Beside him, Jeno rolls over under his blankets, and Jisung turns to check he hasn’t woken him up by talking too loudly to the ghosts. No, he’s still fast asleep, now with faint moonlight falling over his face. Jisung can almost see why Donghyuck took to staring, even if it is kind of creepy.
He lays back down, careful of his sore shoulder, and stares up at the mottled ceiling. Injured or not, he thinks there’s no way he could hallucinate characters as vivid as this. The more he hears the ghosts talk, the more he starts to believe that they’re really here—he couldn’t have made Jeno feel randomly cold earlier, couldn’t have imagined that message on his phone before he even had the head injury. He gets his phone out again, staring at the smudges of white that Jaemin had pointed out on the picture. The more he stares, the more he can see the outline of Mark’s facial features in them. Eyes, nose, mouth…
No, there’s no way. They’re nothing like the ghosts from the movies, they’re all so weird! And they’re not exactly spooky, even if he is a bit scared of them. He’s really must be going crazy. Maybe it is the head injury after all.
There’s only one way to find out. He’s going to have to do some investigating.
-
Jisung must sleep late the next day, because by the time he wakes up it’s to find Jaemin lying at his side instead of Jeno, humming something he doesn’t recognise, no Jeno in sight. He can hear Donghyuck shouting from somewhere outside the house, though, as well as the person shouting back at him. Renjun, he thinks.
“Why wouldn’t they get someone else to do that? Jisung almost died from this before!”
“This is literally what Jeno is here to do. It’s his job.”
“Mark died just from falling off the wall! Jeno’s head is way smaller than Mark’s!”
“What is Jeno doing?” Jisung asks, voice scratchy from sleep.
Jaemin sits up with him, beaming. “Good morning, Jisung-ie! Jeno’s fixing the roof and Donghyuck is a bit nervous about it. Nothing to worry about.”
“Jeno!” Donghyuck yells from outside. “Renjun will catch you if you fall!”
“I certainly will not!”
“What’s it gonna do, kill you?” Chenle sniggers, his voice slightly closer.
“Yes you will, Renjun, you need to do it for your redemption.”
“Redemption? How dare you—”
“What time is it?” Jisung asks, reaching around for his phone.
“Mid-morning,” Jaemin answers.
It’s nearly 11am. “Wow. I slept late. Did Jeno eat already?”
“No, I think he was waiting for you.”
“Seriously?”
He stands up from his sleep mat, joints aching, pushing his blankets into a bunch at his feet and stumbling through the house towards the front door. Sliding it open halts Renjun and Donghyuck in the middle of their argument, and Chenle grins over at him from the entranceway. “You’re awake! Finally!”
Jeno is, surely enough, sitting on the roof and chipping away at something carefully, a ladder propped up against the outside of the house. He must hear the door open, because he leans away from the roof slightly to look down at him. “Hi, Jisung. How are you feeling today?”
“Well rested,” he says, backing up into the garden to see Jeno properly. “When did you wake up?”
“Not too long ago,” Jeno says casually.
“He’s been awake since the crack of dawn,” Jaemin informs him. “He was trying to repair the windowsill in your room very quietly while you were sleeping. It was very cute.”
“Are you hungry?” Jisung asks, trying to keep the smile off his face. “Do you want to get breakfast?”
“I’d love to, but if I’m honest, the ramen was all I brought with me yesterday,” he says. “Do you want to go shopping? We need to get some proper food in anyway.”
“Can you get the radio while you’re food shopping, Jisung? Will they sell them there? Mark told me you have Super Markets that sell everything now! Please, you promised you would get us a radio!”
“Okay,” he says, nodding his head for Chenle. “Right now?”
“Yes!” Chenle cheers.
“Yeah, I’ll come down now. The roof will take too long to do in one go, but it’s not as bad as I expected.”
As Jeno carefully makes his way across the rooftop back to his ladder, Jisung has the strangest sense of déjà vu. He’s standing on the loose stone again, looking up at the roof, and the sight of Jeno sitting on the roof edge strikes him as something he’s seen before. It’s weird, because this is the first time Jeno has gone onto the roof, and no one else has been up there aside from himself, apparently. He still doesn’t really remember that. Maybe that’s why it feels distantly familiar.
When Jeno has his feet back on the ground, Donghyuck throws himself at him, latching onto his side like a big baby koala. “You’re back! I was so worried, Jeno!”
“How’s your head?” Jeno asks. “Seeing any strange things today?”
Jisung glances at Donghyuck, his head resting in the crook of Jeno’s neck, then looks Jeno in the eye with a small smile. “We’ll see about that. Do you fancy getting a radio for this place? It’s too big for us to fill on our own, don’t you think?”
“A radio? Are you like, a hundred years old? I’ve got some Bluetooth speakers I can bring instead.”
“Silence!” Chenle exclaims. “He’s working against us!”
“Jeno knows more than you ever will!” Donghyuck says, keeping one arm protectively around Jeno and using the other to point at Chenle.
“I can get us one that does both,” Jisung says, as they both turn back towards the house. “Don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worrying,” Jeno says, amused. “You can get what you want. You got a small fortune in the inheritance, right?”
“You bet. Is there anything else we need?” he says, raising his voice slightly to subtly address the ghosts.
Or not so subtly, as Jeno raises his eyebrows at him. “Let’s just focus on food for now. We can figure out what else we need once we’ve got the important stuff in. Furniture will be a whole other matter.”
“Can you get us the phone too, Jisung?” Chenle reminds him, trailing after them into the house where they’re grabbing their coats and keys.
“What about a book? I miss reading,” Renjun says.
“Can you please bring Jeno back with you?” Donghyuck asks.
“Have fun, babies!” Jaemin calls.
“Got it,” Jisung says, stepping out and locking the door behind him. “We’ll be back soon.”
“I don’t think the house will miss us,” Jeno tells him. “It’s already been empty for fifty years.”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, meeting Jaemin’s eyes where he’s leaning through the wall to wave them off. Donghyuck and Chenle are flanking them on either side as they walk down the garden, chattering away and keeping up like excited puppies. “I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
-
Shopping is more of an overwhelming experience than he had anticipated it to be. If he thought the ghosts were loud and headache-inducing at the house, it’s nothing compared to the bustle of the supermarket on a Saturday morning. It was never something that had bothered him before, but by the time they’re done filling the cart he’s anxious to pay and leave quickly, temples aching. Jeno, always keeping a watchful eye on him, ushers him into the car as soon as he starts to complain about it, promising to unload the bags on his own. He appreciates it immensely, slipping into the passenger seat without complaint, the absolute stillness of the car giving him a moment to catch his breath.
It also gives him his first real moment alone since they’d arrived at the house yesterday. He spends a minute or two gathering his wits, then pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls until he finds Mrs. Yang’s number.
“Jisung!” Mrs. Yang says as soon as she picks up. “How good to hear from you, dear! How are things going with the house?”
“I’ve had some, erm, unexpected delays, but we’re on track now! I was actually hoping you could help me with some information about the house, Mrs. Yang?”
“I can certainly do my best.”
“I’ve been wondering about the history of it, you see. You know a little bit, don’t you? You told me all about it before.”
“Yes, I do. It was our responsibility until you became old enough to manage it, and it’s a house with quite a lot of history, you know. Very old. What part of that history were you wondering about?”
“A very recent piece, actually. Something you might even remember from the news. Is it true that there was a boy who died in the garden in the late 90s?”
Mrs. Yang is quiet on the other end of the phone for a moment. He nearly misses her reply for the sound of Jeno opening the car door and taking his place in the driver’s seat. “How do you know about that?”
“I heard about it from someone—someone I met,” Jisung says. “They told me about it briefly, but I was wondering if it was true.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it is,” Mrs. Yang says, sighing. “Terrible affair. He was a student from Canada, you know, studying here for just a year. I remember hearing about it. I don’t live far from your road, and it was in the papers at the time, for such a strange death. Just a little fall, and that young man is gone forever.”
Maybe not as gone as she thinks. “Can I ask if you know his name?”
“It should be in one of the documents I have here. Wait a moment.”
The car starts, Jeno pulling out of the parking space smoothly. Jisung sends him a smile, and Jeno smiles back easily.
“Yes, here it is. Mark Lee. Funny name, that.”
Jisung slumps back against his seat, smile fading. “Mark Lee?”
“Yes, that’s right. Died on the 2nd of August, 1999. A very tragic incident of course, but you don’t need to concern yourself with this too much, alright? It was before you were even born, after all. There’s nothing the house owner needs to be responsible for related to that incident, so you don’t need to worry.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Thanks Mrs. Yang. That’s all I wanted to ask.”
“That’s alright, Jisung. You have a nice day, now.”
They’re coming up to a red light as he ends the call, and Jeno takes the time to look over at him. “What was all that about?”
“There was a boy who died in our garden. Not long before you were born, actually, 1999. Apparently he was a student from Canada who had a fall off the garden wall.”
“Oh, that’s sad,” Jeno says. “But why were you talking about that? Surely that’s not relevant to the house now. He’s not buried there, right?”
“No! I don’t think so, anyway. I just… well…” Jisung trails off, watching the lights change to green. “Hyung, do you believe in ghosts?”
“Ghosts?” Jeno asks with a laugh. “What, do you think Mark Lee from Canada is haunting your new house?”
“Well,” Jisung says, faltering. “It’s like you said. There’s something a bit off about the house, isn’t there?”
“I don’t actually think that,” Jeno says. “I was just saying it. It’s just draughty and old, I don’t really think there are any ghosts there. You don’t have to worry.”
“Really?” he says, looking down at his hands. “You don’t think it’s possible there could be ghosts we don’t know about?”
“Not at all,” Jeno says firmly. “There’s nothing there to be afraid of, okay? I promise you.”
-
“Boo!” Chenle shrieks as soon as he steps inside the house. Jisung jumps a mile, stumbling back into Jeno and nearly faceplanting the floor. He’d only just managed to suppress a scream, heart hammering in his chest instead, but Jeno grabs him anyway, keeping him upright.
“Are you alright?” Jeno asks over the sound of Chenle’s semi-hysterical cackles.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to try that! That was so fun!”
“I just fell, sorry,” Jisung hurries to say. “I don’t think I’ll be putting the radio on for a little bit, anyway!” he adds, slightly louder, glaring at Chenle.
Chenle’s face drops instantly. “Nooo, I’m sorry, please get the radio out!” he pouts, screwing up his fists. “I want to hear the new music!”
“Okay?” Jeno says. “Just get it out whenever you feel up to it. Are you dizzy? Or is it a headache?”
“No! Don’t listen to him! Get it out now!”
“Definitely a headache,” Jisung says, rubbing his temples as he stumbles past Chenle.
“I’ll get you a painkiller. Here, give me the bags, I’ll put the food away. Just, I don’t know, sit down somewhere. We really need to get some basic furniture in this place.”
“Jisung!” Chenle exclaims. “I’m really sorry. Can you please get the radio out now?”
Jisung has a feeling he won’t know peace until he gives in. “Let me set that up while you’re doing that,” he says, hastily pulling the radio out of the bag Jeno takes from his hands. “It’s our first purchase for the house, after all.”
“Yay!” Chenle says, and Jaemin comes up behind him, shooting him a disapproving look.
“Okay,” Jeno says. “If you want. Don’t push yourself if your head is hurting, though.”
“I won’t,” he promises, going through to their bedroom and settling on his abandoned sleep mat. “Just something to do.”
“Alright. I’ll be back in a minute.”
As Jeno walks towards the kitchen, Jisung tunes into Jaemin’s conversation with Chenle. Mark is approaching from behind them, and he can hear Donghyuck’s exclamation as he presumably runs into Jeno from the other side of the house.
“Just because Jisung is alive does not mean you can terrorize him with your demands until he gives in!” Jaemin is saying. “We’re supposed to be making friends, not scaring him away, Chenle.”
“Okay,” Chenle sulks, watching Jisung fiddle with the box in his hands. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” Jisung breathes, glad someone else said it for him. “My heart is not up to any more scares like that, you guys are weird enough without jumping out at me from nowhere.”
“I’m honestly kind of impressed by your restraint in this whole thing, Jaemin,” Mark says, draping his arms across his shoulders. “After you’ve been here for so long, aren’t there things you want Jisung to get for you?”
“Not really,” Jaemin says, watching Chenle come to sit by Jisung. “I’ve adjusted to the afterlife well enough. I’m just happy we have a new friend.”
There’s a gagging noise from the door, and he looks up to see Renjun standing there, face twisted with disgust. “You’re so cheesy, old man.”
Jaemin responds without missing a beat. “I always thought being murdered at a young age gave me my appreciation for the important things in life, but maybe it didn’t, since it clearly didn’t have the same effect on you.”
“Dying in war is different to being murdered, though,” Mark says.
“Is it?” Renjun asks.
“You were murdered?” Jisung says, looking up at Jaemin.
“Oh, yes. By my least favourite uncle. It was over a dispute about this house, actually. Good thing no one is killing you for it, hey, Jisung?”
Jisung looks back down at the arial he’s trying to attach to the radio. “My parents died for me to inherit it, though.”
“Oh,” Chenle says, glancing up at him. “That’s why you’re so young.”
“I’m sorry, Jisung,” Mark says. “That really sucks.”
He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It happened when I was really young, so I don’t remember much. I only just recently became old enough to gain the inheritance, but I didn’t know I’d be getting anything like this house out of it.” The arial clicks into place and he holds the radio up, looking at it. What next? “Oh, that reminds me, Renjun. I bought you a book, but I didn’t know which kind you would want, so I bought you some Sherlock Holmes books. I hope that’s okay. I also bought you guys a tablet instead of a phone, since that will probably be more useful, but I’ll set that up a bit later. The radio though… what do I need right now? I also need…”
“Batteries,” Jeno says, appearing through the doorway with a packet in hand. “If you’re trying to get the radio to work, you’ll need batteries.”
“Yes!” he says, taking them gladly, along with the packet of painkillers Jeno hands him. “Thank you!”
“No problem. I’m going to get the rest of the stuff in, now. Were you saying you wanted the tablet out too?”
“Yes please,” Jisung says, already ripping the battery pack open as Jeno continues into the next room.
“Why did you buy us a tablet?” Chenle complains. “We had those back when I was alive. They’re just fancy rocks, they’re not half as interesting as phones.”
“I don’t think we’re talking about the same kind of tablet,” Jisung says, peering to make sure Jeno has gone out of earshot again. He really has to try and cut down on all the talking to himself when Jeno’s walking around the house, or he’s going to start getting concerned again. “You’ll see.” He presses the batteries into their slot, and the LED display on the radio lights up.
“Oh, it’s working!” Chenle exclaims.
“Here you go,” Jisung says, putting it down and pressing the radio function on. “It’s yours to play with.”
“Mark, come over here!” Chenle urges, squatting in front of the radio with reverence. “Try and do the thing!”
“Okay, okay,” Mark says, coming to sit cross-legged next to Chenle. “Give me a minute.” He reaches out for the radio without touching it, closing his eyes.
“Did you really buy me a book?” Renjun asks, and Jisung turns to see him lingering in the doorway, watching him closely. Jisung had almost forgotten he was there.
“Of course,” he says. “You asked for one. There was a paperback and hardback version, and I thought paperback would be easier for you to turn the pages, but hardback would probably settle better if you wanted to prop it against something. I don’t really know how your powers work, so I bought A Study in Scarlet in paperback and The Hound of the Baskervilles in hardback, so you can tell me which works best for next time. Is that okay?”
The radio crackles into life, making him startle violently for the second time in five minutes as a male announcer reads out the local traffic news. Chenle and Mark both jump too, then start hitting each other excitedly as Chenle squeals. “You did it! Do it again! Change the voice!”
“The station,” Mark corrects quietly as he settles again, focusing on the radio. After a few seconds of staring, the radio crackles again and switches to the new TWICE song. They scream and jump again, and Jaemin watches them both with a fond smile.
Jeno comes back through the room with six shopping bags loading down his arms, dropping one of them at Jisung’s side. “Your books are in there, and the tablet, and some of the tools I got for the renovations. Could you leave them to one side? I’ll get started on the walls in this room after breakfast. Though we should probably call it lunch now.”
“Okay,” Jisung chirps, dragging the bag towards him. Mark switches the station again, this time to a commentary on a sports game.
“Is that broken?” Jeno asks, gesturing towards the radio.
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I set it up like that.” The radio switches to a mournful ballad.
“To change stations every five seconds?”
“Um. Yes. It’s an option in the settings. Aren’t those bags hurting your hands?”
“Yes,” he says, narrowing his eyes and regripping the bags. “But you’re acting weird.”
“No I’m not!” he insists, laughing nervously. “Do you want me to come and help you make the food? I’m so hungry.”
Jeno narrows his eyes at him, glaring for a few seconds before shifting the bags in his hands and carrying on into the kitchen. Probably mostly to avoid the blood flow to his fingers being completely cut off. “If you’re feeling up to it, you can.”
“Okay,” Jisung says, taking out the books and placing them on the floor before he stands up. When he can hear Jeno wrestling with the kitchen door, he gestures to the books for Renjun. “Do you want me to put them somewhere else for you?” he whispers.
Renjun stares at the books, then looks at Jisung way too intensely. “This is fine. Thank you.”
“That’s okay,” he smiles. “I hope you like them.” Then he follows after Jeno, leaving the others to their individual antics. He feels a pair of eyes burning into his back all the way to the kitchen.