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It wasn't often that Sanha saw Minhyuk lose his cool. Minhyuk was the epitome of calm. Minhyuk knew exactly how to keep himself together. When Myungjun got lost in the woods, Minhyuk was the one who organized teams to go out and find him. When Dongmin's computer shut off on him and deleted his entire fifteen-page essay, Minhyuk was the one who sat through his crying and anguished insults to recover the document.
And so when he called Sanha, voice shaking, and claimed, “Sanha, I'm freaking out,” Sanha was definitely all ears.
“Hyung?” He sat up straighter in his bed. “What's wrong?”
“My apartment is haunted.”
It was definitely unlike Minhyuk to believe in nonsense. Apparently, he was the one who finally broke the news to Bin that Santa Claus didn't exist.
(Apparently, Bin's mother never quite liked him after that.)
“What?” Sanha was already pulling on his shoes, phone nestled in between his ear and his shoulder. “Minhyuk, what the heck are you talking about? Nothing is ever haunted to you. Remember when we watched that ghost show together? You said it was all fake.”
“That was fake. This is real!” Minhyuk's voice was quiet, as if he was whispering, and he urged, “Can you come, please? Super fast. I don't know who else to call about this.”
Sanha didn't need to be told twice. He quickly left his apartment, jogging down the sidewalk. Minhyuk's place wasn't too far away, so it wouldn't even take that long. “Where's Jinwoo?” He found it weird that Minhyuk would be so terrified when he had a roommate. Jinwoo was pretty level-headed; he had to be, if he was friends with the rest of them. Sanha wondered why Jinwoo wasn't calming Minhyuk down.
“He's at work. He left earlier.”
“Alright, then. Tell me exactly what happened.”
And, so, Minhyuk did. Sanha could picture him gripping the phone, his usual brave facade failing, and he couldn't help but smile softly to himself. Even like this, he was certain Minhyuk was still super cute.
“Jinwoo came into my room and told me he was leaving and told me to sleep in for as long as I wanted to. It was super early, so I didn't pay him any attention, but I got up a bit later to make breakfast, and when I did, I heard a door open somewhere, and then it quickly closed again. I thought it was Jinwoo, like maybe he actually stayed home, but when I walked down the hallway, there was shuffling, and-and I called his name and he's not in there. I was too scared to look inside, but I checked outside, and Jinwoo's car is gone, s-so he isn't here, Sanha.”
It sounded really creepy, and as Sanha neared Minhyuk's apartment complex, he wondered why Minhyuk chose him. Sanha hated scary stuff. He was always the one who screamed at horror films, who closed his eyes during tense parts in movies, who held on tightly to Minhyuk when they had to walk home late at night. And, yet, he was the one Minhyuk decided to call.
What was with that?
“I'm here,” Sanha announced, a little out if breath as he bounded up the staircase to the third floor. “Hang up.”
“No.” Minhyuk was stubborn. “I'm not hanging up until you're right beside me.”
“Well, it's tough to talk and walk all the way up!”
“It's literally the third floor, Sanha.”
“Not all of us are dancers, Minhyuk,” was Sanha's final retort as he made it to Minhyuk's hallway. He saw his friend cowering in front of his door, and with a sigh, he pocketed his phone, scurrying over. “I'm here,” he repeated.
“I see that.”
“If you're going to be a jerk, I can just go right back home, Hyung.”
He was teasing, and he wasn't even going to try to move, but Minhyuk still panicked, reaching out to grab his sleeve and tug him closer. “Don't you dare!” Minhyuk warned. “Who knows what this ghost might do to me without someone else here!”
Sanha frowned and glanced over at Minhyuk's closed door. “I don't know what I can do about a ghost,” he admitted. “I'm too scared to face it.”
“You just have to back me up. Be my support, yeah?” Minhyuk's hand was removed from Sanha – but only for a quick second. Instead of holding onto his shirt, Minhyuk grasped onto his hand, his palm sweaty as he linked fingers with Sanha. “I came up with a plan,” he whispered, and he leaned in close to Sanha. “We'll both go in together; two against one is more daunting for ghosts.”
“I didn't know that.” Sanha would need this fact stored away in his mind – just in case.
“Yeah, they only like to haunt one person, so two people makes them confused and they disappear.”
Sanha didn't know enough about ghosts to dispute Minhyuk's information, so he accepted it as truth.
“We'll look for the ghost, and when we spot it, we'll wave my cross necklace at it.”
Sanha blinked. “I thought vampires were the ones who disappeared when they saw the cross.”
“Ghosts, too.” Minhyuk slowly opened his door, peering inside at his empty apartment. He was short enough that Sanha could peek over him, standing on his toes. “And sirens.”
“Sirens?”
“They're from hell.”
“Are they?”
“Well, they live in deep waters, so I assume they're from the watery sort of hell, which means they don't like religion.”
Sanha didn't know enough about sirens to dispute that, either, and so he nodded his head. “But we're not dealing with a siren,” he murmured, allowing Minhyuk to lead him inside the apartment. The door closed behind them, softly, and Minhyuk stood still. “We're dealing with a ghost.”
“Or a goblin.”
“Can we make up our mind? My ghost kicks don't work on goblins,” Sanha complained.
“What ghost kicks?”
He didn't get a chance to respond to Minhyuk's frustrated inquiry. Just as he had opened his mouth to do so, he heard a loud bump from down Minhyuk's hallway, and his head swiveled to stare in the direction of the sound, eyes wide with alarm.
“Di-Did you hear that?” he whispered.
Minhyuk tugged at Sanha's hand. “I'm telling you, I'm haunted!”
Sanha definitely believed him now. There was slight shuffling, movement after the louder noise, and then it was silent once again. Sanha wondered, though, if Minhyuk could hear his heart hammering in its chest.
They didn't move for a full minute; Minhyuk appeared to be listening for more, and Sanha was too busy devising a plan to run away and burn the apartment complex down. It was better to be safe than sorry.
He wanted to voice his idea, because he really thought it was brilliant, but, suddenly, Minhyuk was dragging him down the hallway. Sanha tried to skid to a stop, but Minhyuk was too strong and too fast. “Minhyuk!” Sanha gasped. “What are you doing? You were sitting outside nearly crying just two minutes ago, why are we doing this?”
“I feel...I feel brave with you by my side,” Minhyuk stammered out, and he glanced back over his shoulder at Sanha, offering him a gentle smile. “I feel like I could take on the world.”
The words should have warmed Sanha's heart, should have sped up that little crush he had been developing on the older boy, but a more pressing matter was at hand, and Sanha gestured wildly to Jinwoo's door, which Minhyuk had just stopped outside of. “Well, let's go take on the world! And ghosts aren't from our world, so we can leave them alone!”
It seemed as if Minhyuk, though, really had found his courage. He pressed an ear to the door, and upon hearing nothing, opened it widely.
The room was a little messy, which Sanha honestly expected. A few clothing articles were strewn across the floor, and the covers of the bed were tangled and wrinkled. Still, nothing looked weird or out of the ordinary, and Sanha began to believe the ghost nonsense even more. Why else would a loud bang sound from Jinwoo's room when it was devoid of anything to have made said bang?
“There's nothing in here,” Sanha whispered loudly.
“I see that.” Minhyuk pulled him inside the room, ignoring Sanha's whining protests and focusing instead on the mess right in front of him. “Sanha, you know how I borrow Jinwoo's clothes all the time?”
“Yeah?”
Minhyuk pointed with his free hand to a sweater laying on the ground. It was bright yellow and extremely thick; from Sanha's point of view, it looked soft. “That's definitely not Jinwoo's sweater.”
Sanha's mouth felt dry, and he pressed himself close into Minhyuk. “Maybe...maybe he bought it recently?”
“Maybe.” But Minhyuk didn't appear convinced. His hand tightened on Sanha's, and his eyes scanned the room once more. “I feel like we're being watched, Sanha.”
Sanha squeaked, then bit down at his lip to cease anymore stupid noises that would try and escape from his mouth. “Don't say that!” he hissed.
He felt it, too, though. He felt as if eyes were on him, as if someone – or something – was in the room with them. He had never encountered a ghost before; spirits seemed to leave him alone. Then why now? Why was he so infatuated with Minhyuk that he was allowing himself to be dragged into his haunted apartment, into Jinwoo's haunted room, into the nearby haunted closet-
Closet? Why were they near the closet? He hadn't realized Minhyuk was pulling him along, and he whined, “Minhyuk, the moment you open the closet, we're dead!”
“That only happens in movies,” Minhyuk replied, though his eyes were wide with fear as he gripped the door handle.
“And so do ghosts! They're not real!”
Minhyuk shook his head and pushed Sanha behind him, blocking him with his body. “Only one way to find out, Sanha.”
Sanha squeezed his eyes shut as the closet door opened. He heard two sets of screams, then, and without thinking through the situation, he, too, screamed. He supposed he should have stopped screaming the moment Minhyuk did, but he kept it up until Minhyuk nudged his stomach harshly.
He opened his eyes, peering from behind his free hand. Minhyuk looked both exasperated and relieved.
“So,” Minhyuk muttered, “ghosts don't exist.” He gestured over to the closet, stepping aside to allow Sanha the wonderful sight of looking at a red-faced, sheepish Kim Myungjun, clad in a mismatch of clothes he must have picked from Jinwoo's closet.
“Myungjun-hyung?” Sanha gasped. “You're the ghost?”
Myungjun rolled his eyes and leaned back into the closet wall, glaring down at the floor.
Sanha tried to piece it all together in his head, and he decided he finally got it. He snapped his fingers together and grinned. “You were playing a trick on Minhyuk, right? Pretending to be a ghost? Is that why you're here?”
Minhyuk's eyebrows furrowed. “Sanha,” he started, glancing over at the unidentifiable sweater, at the bedsheets, then back again at a shameful Kim Myungjun. “Sanha, it's...” He pursed his lips, then sighed, shutting the closet door (and ignoring Myungjun's indignant, “Hey, wait!”). “Yeah. He was pretending to be a ghost.”
Sanha giggled. “Then you were scared by Myungjun!”
“So were you, you dork!”
“You were more scared! You called me and you were practically crying!”
“You're exaggerating.” Minhyuk scowled, but there was no anger in his gaze. “You're an idiot, Sanha.”
Sanha smirked, because despite Minhyuk's words, he didn't appear ready to let go of Sanha's hand.
(Sanha wouldn't mind seeing Minhyuk lose his cool more often, if this was the result.)