Chapter Text
There is was again. Footsteps. Outside of Hoseok’s bedroom door.
Hoseok laid in his bed, eyes on the door, stomach clenching with nerves. He still wasn’t used to living with dad. Even if it was only for the summer it felt like he would need to be here for a very long time. He hadn’t lived with the man in years, and even if he felt guilty for dreading it he preferred only meeting him during celebrations.
You see, Hoseok loved his dad, but his dad could be a bit bossy. Will say, he made all the decisions, he had the say, and he always knew best. What Hoseok wanted was put to the side, always.
That’s probably why Hoseok only laid staring at the door now, instead of opening it and approaching dad outside. Hoseok had already went to bed and he didn’t want to talk to dad again. Actually, the thought of having to talk to dad gave him a painful lump in the stomach. He’d felt bad all dinner as dad talked about how he’d bring Hoseok mountain biking the next day. Hoseok didn’t like mountain bikes. He’d much rather go to the lake and buy ice cream. He wanted to check out the music shop and the dance stage by the beach.
It had only been two days but Hoseok missed home terribly. He was tempted to call mom to pick him up, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Mom was on work in Japan, and Hoseok’s sister was at summer camp. Hoseok was with dad because mom wanted them to get along better and get to know each other.
Hoseok’s parents had divorced nine years ago. Hoseok had been five at the time and didn’t remember too much of it. But he had still met his dad every now and then, he’d had his dad in his life, even though he’d lived with his mom.
The footsteps came closer to Hoseok’s door. The wooden floor boards creaked from the weight on them. Hoseok’s stomach hurt. What did dad want this time? To read Hoseok a fairy tale? He was too old for that now. He only wanted to sleep and dream and hopefully not have to mountain bike tomorrow morning.
He almost cried when the door handle was pulled down. He didn’t know what to say. Dad would get mad if Hoseok told him the truth. He couldn’t tell him that he didn’t like bikes or cars or running uphill for two hours. Hoseok didn’t like books or literature either. He was a soft boy. He liked music and stuffed animals. He was kind and friendly and didn’t need a razor to shave his chin until many years to come.
The door swung open and Hoseok forced himself to smile. He quickly hid his stuffed animal under the blanket beside him. It would be embarrassing for dad to see him hugging it. Hoseok would play macho this summer. He had to try. He didn’t want dad to call him a wimp or a sissy, even though he was one.
With a smile on his face he braced himself to talk to dad, wondering how many activities he didn’t want to do he’d agree on this time.
Only that dad wasn’t there.
The door swung open but there was no one there. Hoseok felt confused as he glanced into the dark corridor on the other side of the door. The door came to a stop, the pressure on the door handle stopping.
“Dad?” Hoseok asked in a weak voice. That… was a bit spooky. Hoseok’s heart ached with sudden fear. He’d always been a scaredy cat. Was dad pulling a prank on him? It wasn’t funny. Was this another ‘manly’ thing he wanted to do with his only son? But no, dad wasn’t there. Hoseok lived alone on the second floor.
Dad wasn’t here but someone had opened Hoseok’s bedroom door right now. Maybe calling it a bedroom was overdoing it. It was the attic to dad’s little house, badly remodeled into a spare bedroom with a bed and a window. It was a bit windy and colder than downstairs.
But so windy that doors opened on their own? The house was old. Maybe that was possible. Hoseok tried to remember how old the house was. Was if fifty or a hundred years? He tried to remember, when the door started moving again, closing itself this time. Hoseok’s stomach clenched as he watched the door handle pull down, door slowly closing shut, as if careful not to hurt the walls of the house.
Then the door was closed again. Hoseok blinked. And then he grabbed his stuffed toy Mickey from under his blanket and hugged it tightly, heart racing in his chest. He stared at the door.
Who’d done that? The wind?
He heard something again. Footsteps. This time on this side of the door. The sound came closer, slowly, small creaks leading from the door up to Hoseok’s bed. Hoseok’s stomach hurt. His heart raced, because there was no one there.
“Dad?” Hoseok tried again, voice a mere croak this time. He dived in under the blanket with Mickey in his arms, wishing for the dog to save him. But the creaking footsteps continued.
Hoseok knew what it was now. It must be a ghost. Dad’s little house was haunted and Hoseok was in the ghost’s nest in the attic. All alone.
“Please don’t eat me,” Hoseok piped. “Please, I don’t taste good!”
He wasn’t sure if ghosts ate people, but begging for his life felt like the best thing to do in this situation.
It felt like he was trembling from fear. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed sweating and panicking under his blanket, but then he realized that the footsteps and the creaking had stopped. He peeked out and glanced at the little room, finding it calm and quiet again. He felt confused, and relieved, as he fluffed his pillow and lied down to sleep. He left his night lamp on.
Trying to take a deep breath, he started thinking, and doubting what he’d just experienced. Maybe he’d made it up in his head. He didn’t like attics after all. He was terrified of heights and dust and ghosts after all. Maybe it had been dad pranking him. Hoseok would ask him about it tomorrow. There was probably no need to worry.
And with that he fell asleep, but he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that someone was watching him from the dark.
***
Dad put an overfilled plate in front of Hoseok on the table. A mountain of burned bacon, fried eggs, burned sausages, potatoes, more meat, more eggs, no greens. Dad put down a similar mountain in front of his own seat. Something told Hoseok that dad usually didn’t make breakfast for himself but tried to impress on Hoseok with his skills in the kitchen. The thought made Hoseok feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. Dad tried so hard but failed every time. He offered Hoseok a smile across the table, nodding towards Hoseok’s plate.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Dad said with a funny look on his face.
“I am,” Hoseok said as he smiled back. But I hope I don’t get sick from eating the black bacon and sausages.
As he started eating the eggs, the least burned thing on his plate, he remembered what had happened last night in his room. His stomach grew tighter and he swallowed the food in his mouth before he looked at dad.
“Dad?” He asked. Dad glanced up from the newspaper he was reading. “Did you walk into my room last night?”
Dad looked confused for a moment until he realized that Hoseok was serious. “No, why would I do that? Did you call for me?”
Hoseok shook his head. “I didn’t, but the door opened and closed by itself and I heard footsteps.” As he said it he grew more scared. He glanced at dad with worried eyes, wondering if he would believe him or not.
“It opened and closed itself?” Dad let out a light laugh. “Hoseok, are you sure? Doors can’t open themselves.”
Hoseok felt his heart sink. So dad didn’t believe him. “Do you think it was a… a ghost?”
Dad gave Hoseok a longer look. Maybe he saw the real Hoseok peek though. The kind, hesitant scaredy cat who believed in ghosts and fairies and fate. Hoseok wasn’t the rowdy, manly boy dad wanted him to be.
“Ghosts don’t exist,” Dad said. “I’ve owned this house for the past ten years and I’ve slept undisturbed every night. It must’ve been the wind.”
Hoseok nodded. Dad gave him a look and Hoseok knew that that was the end of the discussion. Dad didn’t believe him. Ghosts didn’t exist and that’s it.
With a lump in his stomach, from feeling unheard and unseen by dad, he finished his eggs and a half sausage. Then dad brought him to the garage to prepare for their mountain bike trip. Hoseok felt miserable as he stepped into an old bike shirt and bike pants. With a full gear of dad’s old biking clothes Hoseok followed dad out on the street, black bike in his hands. It was just a bike but in Hoseok’s hands it felt like a death weapon. Like a big, scary horse that would throw him off the moment he sat down on it.
Which is what happened, five times during their biking trip. Hoseok was thrown off the bike as he slid on roots and rocks in the forest, and then he tripped once and fell off on flat ground as well. He returned home with tears streaking his cheeks and a fresh, bleeding wound on his right knee.
He hated exercising. He didn’t want to bike or play football or do anything where you got dirty and sweaty and had to compete against others.
Dad was no help. He kept giving Hoseok ‘encouraging words’ as they put away the dirty bikes in the garage. ‘You will get better with time.’ ‘I fell the first time I biked too.’ ‘Falling off is part of the fun. Scraping your knee is fun.’
Hoseok couldn’t see the fun in being in severe pain, getting a permanent scar and risk getting an infection that could kill him. He locked himself in the bathroom when he got inside, and the tears streamed down his cheeks.
He hated it here. He wanted to go back home. He missed his mom and his sister. He missed being able to walk around with a stuffed animal in his arms without being scared of being called a weak soft boy.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t pretend to be tough and boy-ish just to please dad. It wasn’t Hoseok.
Throwing off his dirty clothes and stepping into the shower, he shrieked out a cry as the water came out ice cold. When it got warmer he stood under the stream, letting the water rinse away the pebbles that had gotten stuck in the flesh of his knee wound, letting it wash away the tears on his cheeks as well.
The tears kept streaming and he only cried harder. Dad didn’t understand him. It didn’t feel like he would ever. Hoseok felt unloved and unseen, and he hid his face in his hands as he cried into them. His knee hurt and so did his stomach.
When it knocked on the door Hoseok’s heart jumped. He turned off the warm water, a bit scared. He must’ve showered for too long. Maybe dad would be mad at him. Real men probably only showered in ice cold water. Who knows. Hoseok didn’t want to hear it.
“I’m- I’m almost done,” Hoseok said, hoping dad wouldn’t walk inside. There was no lock on the door.
But then Hoseok heard the lawn mower turn on outside. His heart clenched then. If dad was outside mowing the lawn, then who had just knocked on the bathroom door?
With widening eyes, Hoseok grabbed a towel from the hanger and wrapped it around himself, eyes staring on the door. Had dad invited someone over? Or… No, ghosts were only active at night. It wasn’t a ghost. Ghosts didn’t exist. Dad had lived here for ten years and-
It knocked on the door again. Hoseok almost started crying again. Two knocks. Who knocked two times? Didn’t people usually knock three times? It had been three the first time. Or? Now it was two.
It knocked one more time, and then the door started opening itself. Hoseok froze on the spot, praying that it was dad. But it wasn’t dad. The door opened and there was no one there, just like last night. The door handle was pulled down and everything.
“Dad!” Hoseok shouted for help, hoping he would hear him. But he wasn’t inside the house. He was mowing the lawn and couldn’t hear Hoseok over the loud noise.
The pile of dirty biking clothes suddenly moved from the middle of the floor to against the wall. As if someone kicked it aside. Hoseok stared at it, stomach clenching. He didn't believe his eyes. Was he dreaming? Had he fallen asleep just now?
“Are- are y-you a ghost?” Hoseok stuttered out, staring at the nothingness in front of him. “P-please don’t haunt me, I’m- I’m scared and no fun. Please haunt someone else, I-”
There was a message on the bathroom mirror.
Hoseok's stomach hurt. He hadn’t seen it at first, but there was a sentence written by someone. I’m here, it said. Big letters, across the foggy glass mirror. Hoseok stared at the text, mouth gaping a bit. Had dad written that? Sometimes older messages re-appeared when the mirror got damp again. But it didn’t look like dad’s handwriting. This handwriting was messier, clumsier, fainter.
Something cold graced Hoseok’s left foot. Hoseok jumped up in the air and shrieked. He dropped the towel in the process, leaving him butt naked for a moment until he grabbed it from the floor and covered himself again. Then he saw something on the bathroom floor.
Mickey. His stuffed animal. Hoseok picked him up from the floor, feeling confused. How did Mickey get into the bathroom? He’d been hidden under Hoseok’s pillow in the bed upstairs, hiding him from dad.
A cold wind brushed past Hoseok’s right side, and the door closed quickly in front of him. He watched it all, but he didn’t believe his eyes. He believed none of it. The door was closed again, but Mickey was in Hoseok’s arms and there was a message on the mirror.
What just happened?
Have i gone insane? Hoseok thought as he flicked his gaze from the mirror to Mickey to the pile of clothes on the floor.
Confused, scared and just a little bit intrigued, Hoseok dried himself on his towel and walked upstairs and got changed. He glanced out his window, seeing dad push the lawn mower over the lawn out there. He’d done half the lawn. It hadn’t been him who’d opened the bathroom door. He didn’t even know that Mickey existed.
Hoseok flicked his gaze to the bedroom door behind him, feeling a bit shaky and scared. There was only one explanation to this.
There had to be a ghost in this house.
Dad was wrong. Ghosts existed. And for some reason the ghost living in this house liked to prank Hoseok.
I’m here. That was a pretty kind message. Hoseok had been crying, and then the ghost had… had the ghost given him Mickey? Did it want Hoseok to be happier again? It felt too surreal to think about. Ghosts couldn’t think for themselves. Or? What were ghosts?
Someone in this town must know. Someone must be able to help Hoseok.
His gaze went back for the window, settling on the strange house further down the street. If dad’s words were true then a bunch of ‘occult crazyheads’ lived in a house further down the street. Maybe they would be able to help Hoseok.
“You’re kind, right?” Hoseok asked the bedroom door behind him. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but his gaze kept going back to the corner beside the door, almost as if there was something there. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it either, but that’s where he wanted to look. “Are you a friendly ghost?”
He didn’t get a reply. But there was another one of those cold breezes brushing past him, and something about it felt unnatural. Something about it didn’t feel real. As he glanced through the window to watch dad down at the lawn he thought that he saw another face in the glass, for just a second until it was gone.
Quickly, he glanced behind him. The room was still empty. But someone was there.
Someone was definitely there.