Archive of Our Own ^beta

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 2^nd 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.

Chapter Text

Mark and Chenle get tired of playing with the radio after an hour or so, and Mark leaves it on a channel playing throwback K-Pop songs, as he claims to have been ‘a huge fan of H.O.T. back in the day’. Jisung can’t wait until he figures out how many more idol groups there are now. Maybe he can convert him into liking EXO, since Jeno is more of a SHINee fan.

While Jeno works on plastering up the holes in the walls, Jisung sets up the tablet and lets Chenle watch over his shoulder as he orders them some furniture on it. He manages to buy two tables, a couch, a TV, a microwave, and a rice maker before Mark joins them and figures out he can interact with the ‘giant cell phone’ too, and starts opening and closing all the apps just because he can.

“Jisung,” Donghyuck says, coming to sit beside them in his usual whirlwind of movement. “I have an important question.”

Jeno is two rooms over from them right now, and Jisung figures the music from the radio probably covers his half of the conversation, so he replies to Donghyuck in a low voice whilst waiting for Mark and Chenle to get bored of Mark’s basic influence over the tablet. “Yes?”

“Why does Jeno look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Why does he have muscles? Is he a soldier? A blacksmith? He can’t get them from putting paint on walls, surely.”

“Oh, no, it’s not really from that. He just likes to work out. His job can get kind of physical sometimes though, just wait until he gets his power tools out.”

“Work out what?”

“Work out— um, at the gym?”

“The gym? What’s that?”

“It’s like, a place you go to use weights or... running machines? I don’t really know, I’ve never been. But we have a lot of things like that to help people keep in shape these days.”

Donghyuck stares at him blankly.

“He’s into exercise. He keeps fit.”

Donghyuck squints. “He does that… for fun?”

“He does it to look good,” Mark says.

“He does it to stay healthy,” Jisung says. “Looking good is a benefit of it, though.”

“It’s trendy,” Mark explains. “Or it was when I was alive. Sounds like it still is. You lift weights to make your arms look bigger, or do sit-ups to get abs, or—wait—you still have the internet, right?”

“They do,” Chenle affirms. “Jisung told me that’s how he was looking at the pictures of furniture. They’re on the internet.”

“Wait—the internet is on your giant cell phone?”

“Yep. I can show you exactly what you’re thinking of, Mark,” Jisung says, opening YouTube and typing in ab workout. “Here. You can try it out for yourselves if you want.”

The woman on the screen greets her viewers, and he props the tablet up against the wall for them all to see. Donghyuck goggles at the woman in her sports bra and shiny workout pants, and Chenle springs to his feet when she asks them to mirror her position.

“Wait, it’s like a tiny TV!” Mark exclaims. “This thing is amazing!”

“What is she wearing?” Donghyuck asks, aghast.

“You didn’t tell me you had tiny people in the internet, too!” Chenle says, copying her gentle warm-up stretches. Mark scrambles to his feet to join in.

“Does Jeno copy tiny naked women on the tinternet when he exercises too?” Donghyuck asks.

“I think he mostly works out on his own,” Jisung says through a grin. “He already knows how to do this sort of thing. This is for beginners.”

“Aren’t you going to join in, Jisung?” Chenle says, rolling his head on his shoulders. “The woman is so encouraging!”

“That’s alright. I’m going to check on Jeno. Enjoy,” he grins, watching Donghyuck cautiously try to mimic her position too. He wonders if ghosts can pull muscles.

Jeno is still plastering holes in the walls when he finds him, three rooms away and singing to himself, getting even louder as Jisung carries the radio into the room. “Thanks. It was getting boring in here on my own. Did you manage to order some furniture?”

“A bit, yeah. I’ll do the rest later. I don’t want to rush it, you know? I ordered next-day delivery on most of the stuff so far, so I might wait and see how it looks before I get any more.”

“That’s a good idea. As long as we have somewhere to sit that isn’t that awful old kitchen table, I’ll be happy. You should get something to store your stuff in, too, you left your book on the floor in here.”

He gestures over to the far corner, where Renjun is laid out quietly over the open hardback Jisung had bought him. Jaemin is sat in the doorway next to him, giving Jisung a little wave when he looks over.

“Welcome to the quiet room. Jeno’s work is very relaxing to watch.”

“Did you have to bring the radio in here?” Renjun mutters. “It was the quiet room until you walked in. Now the other ones will follow after it.”

Jisung starts to respond to them, then makes an aborted coughing sound instead, because he remembers Jeno is stood right next to him and he’s trying to cut down on all the talking to himself. “Ahem. Ah. Yes. I meant to leave it there, it’s okay.”

“You meant to leave it partway open?”

“Yep. I’m appeasing Mark from Canada with classic fiction.”

“Oh, right,” Jeno says with a laugh. He moves to grab the little step ladder he’s been using to reach the ceiling, placing it against the far wall and climbing up to reach the top corner of the room. “You think a kid who died in 1999 is into the Sherlock novels?”

“You told him about us?” Jaemin says, resting his chin on his hand. “He’s taking it well.”

“You never know,” Jisung replies. “There could be other ghosts around here too. At least one of them must like reading.”

“That’s assuming they can read.”

“Well, that’s just rude,” Renjun says, lifting his head to glare at Jeno.

“I-I’m sure they can read,” Jisung says hurriedly. “Anyone passing through a house like this must’ve been educated, right?”

“I can’t read!” Donghyuck shouts from the far room. “And neither can Chenle!”

“Or at least half of them,” Jisung tacks on.

“I suppose so,” Jeno says, thankfully preoccupied with his plastering. “Sherlock, though?”

“It’s quite good, actually,” Renjun sniffs. “He’s very presumptuous, isn’t he?”

“So you didn’t tell him about us?” Jaemin says. “Are you going to? It’ll get tiring for you to try and keep up with conversations on all sides if you’re hiding five of us from Jeno, don’t you think?”

“Well, you never know,” Jisung says, wringing his hands. His headache is coming back from trying to navigate this conversation and he’s only been in here for like, two minutes. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“Yeah, I would actually.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jisung turns to leave the room and makes eye contact with Jaemin as he does, jerking his head towards the kitchen.

Jaemin stares at him, so Jisung jerks his head again, widening his eyes.

“He wants you to go with him, idiot,” Renjun says, shoving Jaemin to his feet. “I have to do everything around here, don’t I?”

“Ah!” Jaemin says, grinning as he clasps his hands together and makes his way over to Jisung.

“Jisung?” Jeno asks, and he turns back to find him staring at him again. “Is your neck okay?”

“I’m fine! Nothing to worry about! Do you want a coffee or just a cola?”

“Um, cola is good.”

“Okay!” Jisung scurries from the room with Jaemin on his heels, making sure to shut the kitchen door after him. It’s always cold in this room, so the two of them had agreed to leave it shut so as not to let the rest of the house get cold too, but it also helps soundproof a conversation with his ghost housemate away from his real housemate overhearing.

“Hyung, do you really think I should try and tell Jeno about you guys?”

“Why not?” Jaemin says, hopping up onto the table as Jisung heads over to the fridge.

“I don’t think he’ll take it well. After I kind of freaked out over you guys yesterday, he’ll probably think it’s to do with my head injury. If I tell him directly that I’m seeing dead people he’ll want me to go back to the doctor, and I don’t want to do that if there’s nothing actually wrong with me.”

“True. How do you know this isn’t to do with your head injury, after all? Perhaps we really are figments of your imagination.”

“That isn’t helping,” Jisung says, opening their box of cola cans from the bottom fridge drawer. “I already know you’re real. There are records of Mark dying in the 90s, people still remember him. I couldn’t have made him up without knowing that.”

“So why not tell Jeno that?”

“I already kind of chickened out of that when we were in the car earlier. He doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

“It won’t be hard to make him believe,” Jaemin says, chipper. “We’ve done it before. It’s because Chenle and Donghyuck were too enthusiastic about making friends last time that we ended up scaring away the nice elderly couple who wanted to live here. Renjun was still new then and really did want to scare them, which didn’t help, but he did get us fifty years of peace out of it. I can probably organise them a bit better this time if you want to give Jeno some ghost proof.”

“No, no, that’s okay. No more making Jeno cold. Mark’s message on my phone the first time is the only thing that seems strange enough to a living person, and he was struggling to do it again with the tablet. If you ask them to start causing chaos, Jeno will just think the house is creaking and cold and send himself crazy trying to find out what to fix. It’s kind of his job, you know?”

“So you’re just going to walk around talking to us in secret like this? How long are the two of you staying here?”

“As long as it takes to get this house back together again.”

“And after that? What are you planning?”

“Well, Jeno will go back to his own place, I imagine. He originally wasn’t going to sleep over at all, he’s just doing it right now because of my injury. When the house is done he’ll move onto a new repairs project, because that’s how his job works. I was planning on moving into my own place in the city and renting this house out as a holiday home, so I really only have to keep you guys a secret from Jeno for as long as the house is being repaired.”

“Renting?” Renjun says, and Jisung whips around to see him standing just inside the kitchen doorway. “You’re turning this place into a rented home?”

“Well, yes,” Jisung says. “It’s one of the biggest genuine hanoks left in Seoul. People would love to stay here, and this place is too big for me to live in on my own.”

Chenle materialises beside Renjun, popping his head in through the door. “Jisung, the video finished and Mark can’t do anything but change the volume right now. You have to put on a new one for us.” Muffled beyond the door, he can hear the woman’s voice thanking her sponsor very loudly before the sound cuts off completely.

“Jisung is moving out, Chenle,” Renjun says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “What do you think of that?”

“Moving out!” Chenle exclaims. “What? You can’t! You only just got here!”

“Who’s moving out?” Donghyuck says, piling in through the door after Chenle. “Not Jeno?”

“Yes, Jeno,” Renjun says. “He’s moving out first.”

“No!” Donghyuck cries, turning to Jisung with his hands over his heart. “You can’t do this to me! Where is he going?”

“It’s not for a while yet!” Jisung says, trying to placate them all at once. “It’s only when we finish fixing the house!”

“You’re not saying in the house?” Mark says, joining them through the wall. “What’s the point of fixing it then?”

“For other people,” Renjun supplies. “It’s going to be a holiday house.”

Five pairs of eyes look at him, and Jisung flounders. “What? The house is too big for me to live in on my own!”

“You’re not on your own!” Chenle says. “We’re here too!”

“Chenle,” Jisung says, helplessly. “I can’t live in this house.”

“Why not?” he says, crossing his arms and jutting out his chin. “Huh?”

“That’s not fair!” he complains. “You only want me to stay here because I can do things for you!”

“And it’s fair that you should come in here and change everything around us, then sell our home out to strangers? Even now that you know we’re here?” Renjun asks, gaze steely. “You didn’t even ask us first. You didn’t even think to mention it.”

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I told you he would be bad news, but none of you believed me,” Renjun says, looking around at the other ghosts. “Now we’ll never get a moment of peace again.”

“Is that such a big deal? You guys have had peace for fifty years,” Mark says. “Why are you so against something actually going on in this place?”

“Be nice, Renjun. I’m not against having people staying here either,” Jaemin pitches in. “It sounds like fun! I’ll be sad to see you go though, Jisung-ie.”

“I’ll be back here between each stay to check on the place,” Jisung says, feeling all the eyes on him. “I’ll see you guys a lot!”

“But Jeno,” Donghyuck whines, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, shoulders sagging. “I’ll never see him again after he leaves, right?”

“Get over yourself, you idiot, he doesn’t even know you exist,” Renjun says.

“That is not the point! He’s my only joy in life!”

“Don’t you mean in death? You’re dead, remember. And about two hundred years older than him.”

The kitchen door slides open loudly, and they all turn to look at Jeno standing in the doorway, looking straight at Jisung. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jisung says, blinking fast, standing there with a can of cola in each hand, the condensation dripping down his fingers. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Jeno says, walking forward and taking it from him. “I thought you’d gotten lost in here, but then the radio went quiet and I could hear you talking.” He looks around the room. “Got some friends hidden in here?”

The five ghosts stare at them in silence. Jisung meets Chenle’s eyes, eyebrow raised, and then turns to see Donghyuck’s face, dismayed as he looks at Jeno.

Jeno sighs. “You’re still seeing the people, aren’t you?”

Jisung snaps his eyes back to him. “No?”

“Then what are you looking at? Who are you talking to?”

Jisung surprises himself when his vision suddenly blurs and he finds himself blinking away tears. “Hyung—I just—I’m sorry—”

“Oh, Jisung,” Jeno murmurs, pulling him into a hug, and Jisung buries his face into his shoulder. “We should call your doctor.”

“No, I don’t—just give me one more day, please? I—I’ll take some pain medication and then I’ll be fine.”

“Jisung—” Jeno starts, apprehensive. “If you’re having visions of people that aren’t there, that could be really bad. It’s better we get it checked out sooner rather than later.”

“I know, but—it’s getting late, so can we just call tomorrow? Give me the night to sleep it off. I’m kind of stressed right now.”

“Okay. I’ll wash up and make us something to eat, and we’ll definitely call the hospital tomorrow. Do you want to go and lie down?”

Jisung shakes his head. “I’d rather stay in here with you.” At least that way he doesn’t have to directly address the ghosts about this whole mess. He hadn’t predicted they’d react this badly to the plans for the house—hadn’t even considered their role in all of this until now, and the unexpected pushback is overwhelming. What else can he do with this place if not rent it out? Leave it to rot again, this time with him on the inside, five crazy ghosts for company?

“Okay. I’ll pack up my stuff and we can call it a night. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Yes please,” Jisung sniffs, backing out of his arms to wipe his face with his sleeves. “I’d like that. Harry Potter?”

“Sure,” Jeno smiles, all crescent eyes and hands on his shoulders. “You really never get bored of those movies, do you?”

“It’s my comfort series,” Jisung hiccups.

“Got it. Here.” Jeno takes his medication from the side and hands it to him, then taps the unopened can in his hand. “Take your meds and sit down. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Then he leaves again, and Jisung is stuck in the kitchen with the five silent ghosts. No, four—Renjun had slipped out sometime before Jeno. He doesn’t meet their eyes, but sits down with his can and the packet of tablets, working on getting them open.

To his surprise, Donghyuck speaks first. “Sorry, Jisung. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I was just upset that you and Jeno are leaving.”

Jisung raises his head slightly, as Chenle shifts in his spot. “Right. Is your head actually hurting?”

Jisung nods. “Yeah.”

“Then we’ll leave you alone for the night,” Jaemin says, voice firm. “Right guys? This is Jisung’s house now, and we’re not going around demanding things that we have no right to. Okay?”

“Yes,” Chenle mumbles, arms across his chest, but there’s no real fight in it. “Feel better, Jisung.” Then he turns on his heels and scampers back through the kitchen door.

“I’m going to go and talk to Renjun,” Mark says from the door, before turning through it too.

“Come on,” Jaemin says to Donghyuck, gesturing for him to get up from the chair and come with him. Donghyuck is still obviously wallowing in his sorrow, but he stands up willingly and walks to the door with Jaemin.

“Jaemin?” Jisung calls out as Donghyuck walks out of the room, leaving them alone.

Jaemin turns to face him, his bloodied hanbok blocking the whole narrow entrance. “Yes?”

“This house was originally yours, right?”

“My father built it for my family hundreds of years ago, yes, but the only thing left of that house now is the foundations. It was never really mine.”

“But your family was the first.” Jaemin has lived in this place for so, so long. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about what I wanted to do with the house. What do you think I should do now?”

Jaemin smiles at him, eyes warm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Chenle and Donghyuck don’t want their new friends to leave, but people come and go all the time. We can’t tell you how to live your life just because you’re the first living person to see us in so long. If you want to rent this place out, then do it. I think it would be fun to see lots of different families living here. The house was meant to be lived in, after all, even if most people don’t have houses like this anymore.”

“So you think I should go through with it?”

Jaemin comes down the steps to stand in front of him again. “I want you to do whatever you think is best, Jisung. If you are happy, I will be happy.” He bends down to kiss Jisung’s forehead, like he’s a particularly sweet child he’s looking after. Though Jisung can’t feel the touch, he appreciates the kindness behind the gesture. “Don’t be influenced by Renjun or any of the others. Have a nice evening, alright? I’ll keep them out of the kitchen and your bedroom.”

“Thank you, Hyung,” Jisung says.

Then he’s left alone in the kitchen. He pops out some tablets from the packet and swallows them down, chased by his cola. The house, for the first time since he’s come back here, is blissfully quiet.

That feeling lasts for about five seconds before Jeno pulls back the loud kitchen door again. “I was thinking we should actually order food. We never celebrated your release from hospital.”

“We ordered food yesterday,” he points out.

“Yes, but that was a ‘there is nothing edible in the house and we’re hungry’ order. I’m talking about a proper order where we get everything we want, with sides and dessert. And we can eat it over the movie. How about that?”

“That sounds good,” he says, allowing himself a little smile. “Chinese?”

“Chinese it is,” Jeno says, already picking up his phone.

-

The next day, Jeno watches as Jisung makes a fake call to the fake doctor to set up a fake appointment for next week, because he doesn’t want to be given medication for symptoms he doesn’t really have, but he also doesn’t want to face Jeno’s incessant nagging if he refuses to call again. Instead, he’s resolved to convince Jeno that the ghosts exist sometime before the date of his fake appointment, which will obviously solve the issue completely. After he tells Jaemin about this plan, he starts saying fighting! to him every time they pass each other around the house, and it’s really just making Jisung more nervous about it all. But he knows he means well.

Regardless, he’s not quite ready for that confrontation yet, so the next few days pass without much event. Jaemin must have reprimanded Donghyuck and Chenle, because they don’t bring up the future of the house to him again. Chenle instead develops a fascination with the tablet, and is completely taken with the dramas Jisung leaves running on it while he gets on with sorting out the house. He thanks God for his endless data plan, because it’s kind of saving his life right now.

While Jaemin and Mark remain just the same towards him after their discussion, Renjun becomes petulant and silent with Jisung, ignoring him whenever they’re in the same room and avoiding him whenever he can. It’s not quite as bad as Donghyuck’s response, though, who starts to sit as close as possible to whatever Jeno is doing at all times, even if it means Jeno walks through him every five minutes. He’s content with just watching, it seems, even if he looks a lot like a kicked puppy when he does it. Jisung can barely look at him whenever he passes, feeling irrationally guilty, as if he’s the one responsible for Donghyuck’s lovesickness. If anything, Jeno really should be held accountable here—but it’s hard when he doesn’t know of nor believe in Donghyuck’s existence at all. Jisung is stuck at an impasse between the two, and usually prefers to leave the room rather than think about it too hard.

Even if they don’t talk about the house issue to him directly, he can still hear them talking about it amongst themselves. They’re far too used to having no one else hearing or seeing them, because their secret meetings aren’t very secret at all when Donghyuck and Chenle are shouting half the things they say.

“But I don’t want Jisung to go!” Chenle is saying. “He’s made everything so much better around here!”

“And Jeno,” Donghyuck tacks on.

“I know that, babies,” Jaemin is patiently explaining. Jisung is sat in one of the neighbouring rooms, quietly moving some of his stuff from the boxes into his new chest of drawers, and Jeno is a few rooms over, working rather noisily on the water damaged floor. Jaehyun’s here too, and they’re replacing most of the flooring in the back room between them, which has been kicking up a lot of dust around the house. “But you can’t ask them to stay just because it suits you. They have lives and jobs in the real world to get back to, and asking Jisung to stay here would interrupt that too much.”

“And Jeno,” Donghyuck sighs.

“But I don’t know why we should sit around and let him do what he wants to the house,” Renjun is saying. “No matter who owns this place, the fact of the matter is that we live here. We don’t have a choice about that when we can’t go further than the garden walls. So how is it fair that we have to put up with different strangers each week just because Jisung can earn money from it?”

“I seriously don’t see why that’s such a bad thing,” Mark says. “Normal people can’t see us, so no one will bother us. If anything, we’ll be the ones bothering them. Weren’t you guys bored when nothing was happening around here?”

“No,” Renjun says stoutly. “I liked it.”

“You can’t say you don’t like your books, Renjun,” Jaemin says, voice light. “You already finished the two novels Jisung bought you. Isn’t it a fair trade off that he is kind to us, and we’re willing to share the house with him?”

“I can go without books forever in return for my peace of mind!”

“Won’t you be sad when Jisung leaves, Jaemin?” Chenle says. “You like him too, don’t you?”

“Of course I will be,” Jaemin’s voice says, barely loud enough to hear. “But people come and go all the time, and it’s not healthy to try and keep them where they don’t want to be. I’ll be happy knowing he’s out there living his life, and knowing the house is in good hands again.”

The drill starts up from the room Jeno and Jaehyun are in, and the noise is piercing. It’s been on and off all afternoon, and Jisung was really hoping they’d be done with it by now, because it’s giving him a killer headache.

“This is useless,” Renjun shouts, and it sounds like he’s moving through the house now. “I’m sick of this!”

“Renjun—” Jaemin starts, but the rest is drowned out by the noise of the drill again. Jisung turns just in time to see Renjun stalking through the walls, right across the centre courtyard, headed for the room Jeno and Jaehyun are in. He stands quickly, pushing past his dizziness as he hurriedly follows after him. The urgency for him to get to the room before Renjun does is stronger than any sickness he could feel.

He arrives just in time to see Renjun angrily kicking one of the loose floorboards that Jaehyun had pried up and piled against the wall. It goes flying across the room, straight over Jeno’s head, hitting the far wall with a bang. The room is still for a moment as they all watch the board clatter to the floor, Jeno flinching away violently.

Then Donghyuck, standing right behind Renjun, starts yelling. Jeno looks rattled, staring at the floorboard at his feet, then looking around the room—none of the living people in the room were close enough to kick it, and Jisung and Jaehyun are staring at each other for an explanation. Jisung’s never seen Renjun’s power in action before, so he’s too stunned to come up with a quick excuse for it—Renjun can move things to that degree? That violently? For the first time, he understands why his ancestors have been keeping away from this house for three generations. A newly dead, newly angry Renjun was probably very scary to live with, even if they didn’t know he was there. Especially if they didn’t know he was there.

“You really want to sit on your own and read books that bad?” Donghyuck is shouting, voice straining with his volume. “Like a loser? You want this house to yourself so much that you’d kill the most beautiful man in Korea to make a point?”

“I thought you’d fixed the draughts in the house, Jeno?” Jaehyun says. “Or is one of the windows open? That’s a nasty breeze.”

“Yes!” Jisung gulps. “It’s the window in the opposite room. The paint still smells in there, so I opened it earlier.”

“If I’d killed him, you would have been able to keep him here permanently,” Renjun says, kicking at another floorboard, but his foot goes straight through it this time. “Don’t act like you’d be that sad about it.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck says, a new glint in his eye. “You’re right.”

“We painted that a few days ago, though?” Jeno says, blinking around at Jisung.

“Yup, we did!” Jisung says. “I’ll just go and… shut it, then. I’m sure it’ll be fine now.”

“Renjun!” Mark is exclaiming, gaping from behind them. “You can’t just go around trying to kill people! We’ve been over this like, five times!”

“Relax, I wasn’t aiming for him. Or I would’ve actually hit him.” His eyes flick to Jisung, who deliberately walks towards him on his way to the opposite room. He doesn’t get to walk though him out of defiance, like he wants to—Renjun backs away from him as he approaches, the look on his face almost teasing. “Oh, come on, Jisung, it was just to annoy him as much as he’s being annoying right now with those stupid tools.”

Out of earshot of the other two, but with all five ghosts following him into the room, he talks under his breath, rattling the window he’s supposedly closing to cover for himself.

“I don’t know if you guys can be exorcised or if that’s just demons, but I’m not above getting someone in here to cleanse this place if you try to hurt Jeno again.” He slams the window shut. “I know that you live here, Renjun, and I’m trying to meet you halfway with what you want. But you can’t hurt the people I love to make a point like a toddler throwing a tantrum.”

He turns back around to find them all staring at him, speechless, including Renjun. He’s a little surprised at himself, to be honest. He doesn’t think he’s spoken that firmly to anyone in his life.

Chenle whistles. “You’ve been told.”

“I told you, I wasn’t going to hurt Jeno.” Renjun says, eyes steely.

“Whether or not you hit him, scaring him like that is still hurting him. Not all injuries are physical. If you were a soldier, you should know that.”

The room is deadly silent as the noise of the drill starts up again. Renjun says nothing, looking at Jisung with a blank sort of anger. Then he sweeps from the room without a word, straight through one of the outer walls into the garden, and no one moves to follow him.

“Did I cross a line?” Jisung asks, deflating again. The confidence leaves him as quickly as it had come. “Was that too much?”

“It’s okay,” Jaemin rushes to reassure him. “Renjun was the one who crossed a line. He won’t listen to any of us, so I’m glad you said it.”

“Not that he’s going to listen to Jisung either,” Chenle says. “He’s more stubborn than anyone I’ve ever met, living or dead. Other than Donghyuck.”

“I think Renjun is worse than Donghyuck,” Mark says.

“It’s a close thing,” Jaemin says, watching where Donghyuck is floating back towards Jeno’s room. “But Renjun’s ability makes him the one to watch.”

Jisung sits down heavily on a low table the middle of the room, the only piece of furniture in here. “I hope Renjun doesn’t hate me now. Should I go and apologise?”

“No, he’ll have gone to sulk,” Mark replies. “You didn’t say anything wrong, honestly Jisung, he’s the one who should apologise rather than making excuses like that. He was totally out of line, dude.”

“It’s okay if he doesn’t want the house to be rented out. I wouldn’t want someone to rent my house to strangers with me still in it either. But Jeno is the only person I’ve got. He’s important to me. Renjun can’t go around being mean to him like that.”

“You’re totally right, baby,” Jaemin coos, coming up to put an arm around his shoulders. “Renjun’s still not over dying, I think, and that’s his problem to deal with.”

“He’s ridiculous,” Chenle says, eager to join in on the complaining. “It was ages ago already, we all know his war is long finished. He needs to move on with his life.”

“His death,” Mark corrects.

“Still, I feel kind of bad. I didn’t mean to press on any old wounds.” He cringes. “Metaphorical ones, I mean. I think I should talk to him. Can you show me where he goes to sulk?”

“I wouldn’t go yet if I were you,” Mark says. “He’ll still be mad.”

“If I don’t go now, I won’t get another chance. Jeno is keeping a closer watch on me these days.”

“Well, it’s your own head if he kicks another floorboard at you,” Chenle says cheerily. “Come on, I know where he is. Follow me.”

Chenle leads the way through the wall—Jisung takes a quick detour to the back door as Chenle yawns theatrically—and out into the small grassy area at the back, pointing at the collection of bushes surrounding a singular tall tree in the corner of the garden. “He usually sits in there for a few days when he’s in a mood. He thinks no one can see him.”

“I can’t see him,” Jisung says. “I didn’t even know all this was back here.”

“He’s in there,” Chenle assures him. “Good luck! I’m going to go and bug Mark until he opens YouTube on the tablet for me.” Chenle doesn’t even give him the chance to protest before he disappears back through the wall again.

Jisung swallows down his apprehension, approaching the collection of greenery carefully. “Renjun? Hyung? Is it okay if I come and talk to you?”

No answer. Jisung looks over his shoulder at the house—he only has the kitchen and one of the corner rooms facing him here, and he can see Jaemin watching him from the window. He waves at Jisung with a smile, but doesn’t make any move to stop watching. That’s not so bad. At least there’ll be a witness if Renjun tries to kill him.

“Hyung?” He steps between two bushes and drops down on the other side when he sees the brown shorts of his old military uniform poking out from behind the tree. “Are you okay?”

Renjun glares at him when he comes into view. “How did you know I was here?”

“Chenle pointed me in the right direction,” he says carefully. “I know you said you wanted peace and quiet, so I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I just wanted to apologise. I didn’t want to upset you back there, or anything… I was just angry.”

Renjun stares at him, silent.

“Well, that’s all really,” Jisung says awkwardly. “Shall I leave now?”

Renjun continues to stare, eyes narrowed.

“Alright,” Jisung says, making a motion to stand. Only then does Renjun look away, and surprisingly, start to speak.

“Why are you apologising to me?” he asks. “I was the one who kicked a hard object at your boyfriend when he hasn’t done anything wrong. If I were in your shoes, I would’ve gone crazy.”

“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend,” Jisung says, crouching down to be at Renjun’s level again. “Second of all, is that why you did it? To get a reaction out of me?”

Renjun glares down at the floor, which is answer enough.

Jisung sighs, a gentle puff of air through his nose. “To answer your question, I’m apologising because I know you’re hurting. You died in a really difficult time, and you died young. It must be so hard. I couldn’t imagine being in your position, so I can’t fault you for wanting what you want. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’ve been thinking about what you said, you know, and I’m going to put my plans for the house on hold for now. We can discuss them again as a household when the work is all done, okay?”

Renjun is staring at him again. Jisung shifts in place awkwardly.

“I just don’t want you to do something like that again. I know that you’re angry, but you need to talk about your feelings with me or one of the others rather than bottling it up and lashing out, or it’s going to end up seriously hurting someone one day.”

Renjun seems to be searching for something in his face. “How old are you, Jisung?”

“I just turned twenty.”

“It was your birthday recently?”

He nods. “The week before I first came to see the house. That’s why I’ve only come here now, I didn’t even know this place existed before. Maybe if my parents had lived longer, I would’ve come here and met you as a kid. Or you would’ve met me, at least.”

“When did they pass?”

“When I was young,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Too young to remember much. The house was the biggest surprise in the inheritance, but I was really excited about it. I thought maybe repairing it would bring me closer to them, you know? I don’t really know my family at all. Grew up in a care home. This is the first place I’ve called my own.”

Renjun doesn’t offer any condolences, but he can see the regret in his face. “Then why do you not want to live here?”

Jisung awkwardly leans back until he’s sat on his butt, gripping his knees. “Once this is done, I’m planning on going to school. A good one in the city, so I want to live in an apartment close by. I thought that renting out the house would be a good source of income, since I don’t really have anyone to support me through it. But I’ll figure it out. My parents left me money, so I’m sure I can lean on that for a while.”

“You want to go to school?” Renjun asks, very quiet. “What do you want to study?”

“Natural Sciences.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really!”

“I used to love science at school, too. Only learned until I was sixteen, though.”

“What age did you enlist?”

“Eighteen.”

“What age did you die?”

Renjun meets his eyes. “Twenty-one.”

He ducks his head. Barely older than Jisung—the same age as Jeno. “I’m sorry, Renjun.”

“Don’t apologise to me. It’s like you said—I’m just an angry old man who’s still not over the fact that he died. It’s been so long that even if I had lived through the war, I’d be dead of old age by now anyway. There’s nothing left for me to fight, but I don’t know how to stop.”

“I didn’t quite say you were an angry old man,” Jisung says hastily, but Renjun waves him off.

“I know, but it’s true. The others tell me enough. I’m sorry for the scene back there. You’re right, it was childish.”

Jisung is positively stunned. From the way the others had acted, he hadn’t been expecting anything but the silent treatment from Renjun out here.

“Well,” he fumbles. “Thank you. I accept your apology. You won’t do anything like that again, right?”

Renjun looks away from him. “Not again.”

Jisung goes out to pat his knee, but his hand obviously goes straight through his leg and lands in the mud instead. He retracts it quickly and tries to subtly wipe it on the tree Renjun is sitting against. “I’m—” he clears his throat—“here if you want to talk. I know it’s hard to find time alone like this, but—you know. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“I do,” Renjun says. “You seem almost as stuck here as we are.”

“Sometimes I feel like it,” Jisung admits in a breath. He’s awkwardly balanced on his heels, ready to spring up and go, but not wanting Renjun to think he’s hurrying to leave. “Not that I mind, really. I’ve never had many friends before, but you guys are fun. I like having you around. It’s almost a good thing that I fell from the roof after all, because otherwise I would never have known you were there.”

Renjun’s face drops slightly. “I suppose so,” he murmurs, quiet again.

Jisung feels like he’s put his foot in his mouth. Perhaps by mentioning death again. Rather than ruining his progress with Renjun any more, he really does spring to his feet, ignoring the ache of his bruised hipbone at the movement. “Well, I should get back to my beanie babies. They won’t hop into the drawers themselves!”

“Okay,” Renjun says. “I’m going to sit out here for a bit longer while Jeno is using those tools.”

“They’ll be done soon, and I’m pretty sure it’s the biggest upheaval job left to do in the house, so don’t worry. Hopefully you’ll get your quiet after this!” He shoots him a thumbs up, then hides his hands behind his back when Renjun looks at him funny, feeling a little dumb. “I hope you’ll come out again in the evening. We’re going to try a movie on the new TV.”

Renjun nods vaguely. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Jisung says, backing out of the bushes. Jaemin is still watching him from the window, eyebrows raised. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, or whatever. Bye!”

“Bye, Jisung.” Renjun turns back to look at his hands in his lap, thoughts already somewhere Jisung can’t reach.

-

Four days later, Jisung is breaking in one of the new sofas in their growing collection of furniture by bouncing across the length of the cushions until Jeno tells him to stop, which then leaves him mostly just watching as Jeno paints a wall. When he asks to help him out, Jeno shoots him down— no strenuous work, the doctor said—and when he asks to at least get one of those tiny brushes so he can work on the skirting board or something, Jeno shoots him down again. His magic hands can’t be trusted, he says, recalling the incident yesterday where Jisung had opened the beautiful ornamental mirror he’d ordered for the bedroom before promptly knocking it over and smashing it to pieces. 7 years bad luck, Renjun had said, while Chenle had fallen on the floor with how hard he was laughing about it.

So Jisung sits there, watching him paint, listening to the TV drone on from the next room over. He has to watch the first ten minutes of whatever’s on every time Chenle or Mark are watching it just to avoid Jeno getting too suspicious about him leaving it playing all day, and it means he’s seen snippets of just about every show on TV with no idea of what’s going on in any of them. He’s also bought Renjun more books and given the others a Twister mat to play with, which went down a storm once they grasped the concept of it. It’s a bit more suspicious to leave lying around than a book, so he’s set it up in one of the further rooms he knows Jeno won’t be going in for the day, listening to them scream and laugh from the other side of the house as he absently scrolls down his feed. He should really go and turn off the TV if Chenle has been pulled away from it.

“What are you smiling about?” Jeno asks, making him snap his head up from his phone.

“Nothing! Just a funny post.”

“Really?” Jeno asks, voice disbelieving as he turns back to rolling fresh white paint up and down the wall. “You’re in your own world more often than not, these days.”

“It’s almost as if I suffered a recent head injury,” Jisung tries to joke, but Jeno just gives him a look. He still considers the fall an off-limits joking area.

“Seriously, I can’t believe your appointment isn’t until Friday. After you told your doctor you were seeing people who weren’t there, he couldn’t fit you in earlier than that?”

“It’s alright,” Jisung says, twisting his hands in his lap. He really needs to work up to telling Jeno the truth any time now. “I’m not even getting headaches anymore.”

“But you’re still seeing the people, aren’t you? Don’t think I don’t hear you talking to yourself when I’m not in the room.”

Jisung cringes. “Well, yes, but the thing is—I know you don’t believe in ghosts, Hyung, but don’t you think that—”

There’s a scream from the Twister room that sounds distinctly like Chenle has lost the round, making him flinch, followed by the sound of Donghyuck’s triumphant laughter. This is a new development, Donghyuck spending time in rooms that Jeno doesn’t occupy—his competitiveness seems to be the only thing that overpowers the pull of his love.

“What is it?” Jeno says, and Jisung turns to find him paused from the painting, looking at him instead. “Are you going to tell me you’ve been seeing Mark from Canada this whole time?”

“Actually,” he says, cradling his hands in his lap. Now is as good a time as any. “Yes, I have.”

Jeno tilts his head slightly, gripping the paint roller in hand. “Really?”

“Yep. That’s why I was calling Mrs. Yang in the first place, that day I told you about him. I wanted to find out if he was a real person who died here. And it turned out he really was.”

Jeno looks down at the floor, sighing slightly. “I see. Jisung—”

“Seriously, I was seeing him here before I even knew about his death. How could I have done that if he’s not a real ghost? The books weren’t really for him, though, they were for one of the others.”

“Others?” Jeno asks. “How many are there?”

“Jeno!” Donghyuck calls, skipping into the room and throwing himself at the unsuspecting boy. “I won at Twisted!”

“Twist-it!” Jaemin shouts from the far room.

“It’s Twister! It’s right there on the box!” Renjun says from somewhere between the two of them.

“I can’t read!” Donghyuck calls back happily.

“Five, including Mark,” Jisung says, slinking down in his seat at the way Jeno is looking at him. He knows he paused too long before that answer, distracted by the others.

“What about me?” Mark says, suddenly popping through the doorway.

“Five? Five of the same people you’ve been seeing all this time?”

“Yes, but I told you, I’m not just seeing them, they’re really there! I can prove it to you!”

“Oh, we’re doing this now?” Mark asks.

“Everyone! Come quick!” Donghyuck shouts. “Jisung is telling Jeno about us!”

“Really?” Jeno says, crossing his arms. “And how are you going to do that?”

“They all have different ghost powers! They reached out to me before I even had the fall, it’s one of the last things I remember before calling you that first day, I swear!”

“Okay,” Jeno says patiently, dropping his paint roller onto a plastic sheet at his feet. “So what can they do?”

“Well!” Jisung exclaims, standing up. “Jaemin can make the lights flicker!”

Jaemin is stood in the doorway behind Mark, eyebrows raised as Jisung gestures towards him. “The lights aren’t on.”

“Ah! Right!” He runs towards the kitchen, where all the lights are wired to. “One second, Hyung!”

“This isn’t going to go well,” he hears Mark say as he passes him, squeezing between him and Jaemin in the doorway. Since the incident with Renjun, he’s been making a point not to walk through any of the ghosts if he can help it. He has manners, after all.

“Don’t be such a—what do you always call it, Mark? A negative Nayeon?”

“A negative Nancy.”

“Right!” Jaemin says, as Jisung wrenches the kitchen door open. “Don’t be such a negative Nancy, Mark! If we show him what we can do, Jeno has to believe that Jisung is telling the truth!”

Jisung flicks the lights on for the whole house. It barely makes a difference to the level of light in the room, because it’s the middle of the day and the sun is steadily streaming in through the wide windows, but the bulbs are definitely yellower. “Okay!” He runs back through to the living room, where Jaemin is concentrating hard on the lightbulb above them. It’s flickering gently, making a low buzzing noise. “See!” he says, pointing at it.

Jeno isn’t convinced. “Jisung, the lights always do that when they turn on.”

“Okay,” he says, because that’s true and thus probably a lost cause, but Jaemin’s power is the least impressive one anyway. “Fine. Mark can do a similar thing! He can interfere with technology. He’s been the one changing the radio channels all the time!”

“Okay, okay, I got this,” Mark says, going to squat by the radio on the windowsill, hands pressed together. “Just—give me a minute.”

Everyone in the room stares at Mark apart from Jeno, who’s looking at the radio with a frown on his face. The abandoned paint roller is slowly leaking all over the plastic sheet on the floor, and the smell of the walls is making Jisung light-headed— or perhaps it’s the stress of the situation. Probably both.

After thirty seconds of tense waiting, Jeno turns his head to look at Jisung. Jisung only holds up a finger, pleading him to wait. “Sometimes this takes him a minute.”

Mark changes the channel to one playing a similar pop song, but certainly a new station. “Aha!”

“There! He can interact with the tablet too, and he was making my phone glitch the first time I came here! I think he might also be the reason I couldn’t get signal in the house that time, but it’s been fine since then, so I’m not sure about that one. Mark is the biggest wildcard.”

Jeno doesn’t say anything, running a hand through his hair and looking at the floor.

“Okay,” Jisung says. “I can see you’re not convinced, but let me finish, okay? I promise, these three will be able to convince you!”

“Do me next, do me!” Chenle says, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“There’s Chenle!” Jisung says, pointing his way, then awkwardly moving his hand up to the back of his head instead because obviously Jeno can’t see anything. “He can make small noises! If you listen really carefully, he can tap out a song for you! He’s gotten really good at modern pop since we bought the radio.” He strides over to said radio to turn it off, leaving them in silence.

“I’m going to do Gangnam Style,” Chenle announces, before moving over to the wall beside Jeno.

“He—he says it’s going to be Gangnam Style,” he says, trailing off at the end of the sentence as his heart starts to sink. Jeno is looking directly at him, and the look on his face gives Jisung a sudden out-of-body vision of what he must look like right now. A crazy person, is what. He can feel the embarrassment running hot through his body, but he curls up his toes and stays quiet, letting Chenle tap out the opening beats to Gangnam Style.

Chenle is doing the beat with his mouth as he taps out the rhythm. The other ghosts stay quiet, but Jeno only looks at Jisung.

“Do—do you hear it?” he asks tentatively.

Jeno scrunches up his face. “That scratching? It sounds like we have rats.”

“We don’t have rats, I promise you it’s—”

“Jisung—”

“No, wait, I’m not done yet!”

“Are you going to do me?” Donghyuck says, straightening out his jeogori. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“There’s a fourth ghost. He likes you a lot, actually, you can assume he’s usually hanging out wherever you are. His name is Donghyuck, and he can change the temperature, which is why you always say the house feels cold.”

“This is my time,” Donghyuck says under his breath, planting his hands on Jeno’s shoulders.

“It’s probably because I still haven’t fixed that window in the kitchen, and that room is always the coldest. Does this ghost sleep in there, or something?”

Donghyuck plants a kiss on Jeno’s cheek, looking up at him hopefully. “I sleep with you, darling.”

Goosebumps raise on Jeno’s arms, but he barely seems to notice it. He must be too used to the random temperature changes that happen around him by now.

“No,” Jisung says weakly. “No, he… well. Okay. I know this one will prove it to you.” Saving the best until last.

“I hope you’re not talking about me,” Renjun says.

“Renjun is—what?” he says, swivelling to face him.

He shrugs. “I can’t do my thing on command. I’ve only ever done it when it’s important, like something that I’m really angry or passionate about.”

“This is important!”

“Sorry,” he says, kicking half-heartedly at the sheet on the floor. It doesn’t move at all, doesn’t even bother to make a rustling noise. “I’m just not feeling the passion right now.”

“Okay, Renjun can’t do his thing right now, apparently. What a cop out. But he was the one who kicked the floorboard at you, do you remember? When Jaehyun was here the other day?”

Jeno’s face changes slightly at that. “The one that went flying over my head out of nowhere?”

“Yes!” he exclaims. “That one! Renjun was mad that I wanted to rent this place out so he kicked it at you, but we’ve come to a truce about that now, so don’t worry about that. He won’t do it again.”

“You have?” Jaemin asks, looking between them.

“Wait, you’re not going to rent the house out?” Jeno asks.

“Maybe not,” he replies. “I might live here. I don’t know yet.”

“Jisung,” Jeno says, exasperated. “What about university? Wasn’t the plan for this to help you pay for it?”

“University?” Mark asks, surprised. “You’re old enough?”

“Well, yes, but I can always go into my inheritance fund for a little while—”

“Oh no, Jisung…” Jeno sighs, running a hand down his face.

“But you’re missing the point! What else could that have been? You knew it was weird at the time, you knew it wasn’t really the wind like I told you. The window wasn’t even open, I just said that to cover for him.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because of this,” he says helplessly, gesturing to Jeno. “Because if I told you that a ghost from the 1950’s kicked it at you out of rage against holiday homes you would’ve looked at me like this. I’m not crazy. I promise you this is the truth.”

“Hey,” Jeno starts, crossing the room to take Jisung’s hands in his, pulling him back down to sit on the sofa and crouching in front of him. “Listen to me now. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You know that, right? You had a serious head injury, and you do not have to be afraid of the symptoms you’re having. You can tell me when you feel these things.”

“It’s a lost cause,” Chenle pronounces. “If Gangnam Style can’t convince him, what will?”

Jisung pulls his hands away, clutching his head in frustration. “I—I know how it sounds, alright? If I were in your shoes, I would be thinking the same thing. But I promise you, Hyung—this is the truth. I couldn’t see them when I first came to the house either, but after I died in that ambulance, I’ve been able to communicate with them. They’re nice. They—they’re my friends.”

“Aw,” Jaemin says, clutching his chest from behind Jeno. “Guys, we’re his friends!”

Jeno nods vaguely, pulling Jisung’s arms away from gripping his head. “Okay. I can see you really believe this, and I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong. But you have to promise me you’ll go to your appointment on Friday and get this checked out by your doctor, at least.”

Jisung ducks his head in shame. “I don’t have an appointment,” he mumbles.

“Oop,” Renjun says, anticipation creeping into his voice. “This is the kicker.”

Jeno stills. “You what?”

Jisung doesn’t meet his eyes. “I didn’t really make an appointment. I was just buying time to tell you about the ghosts. There’s nothing wrong with me, Hyung.”

Jeno knocks his head against Jisung’s knee with a louder sigh. “Jisung. You have to make an appointment. You needed to go to a follow-up appointment around this time anyway, and you need to tell a professional about all of this whether you truly believe in it or not. For better or for worse, it’s only been happening since your injury, so a doctor needs to hear all of this, not me.”

“I can’t believe society doesn’t believe in ghosts yet,” Donghyuck complains. “And you call yourselves progressive!”

“Do you promise me you’ll really call up the doctor? Please, Jisung?”

He looks up to meet Jeno’s eyes, and it’s lethal. Jisung usually knows how to get his way with what he wants, but he can see how worried Jeno is right now, and he’s weak to his gentle voice like this. This is a bit more serious than getting Jeno to buy him patbingsu whenever he wants it, anyway. “Okay,” he says, voice small. “I will.”

“Thank you,” Jeno says, sincere, sliding his hands down to squeeze Jisung’s own. “And thank you for telling me about this. You do know how it looks to me though, right?”

“I know,” he says. “Even the ghosts are staring at me in the same way you are right now.”

Jeno smiles at him. Somehow, he thinks this could’ve gone worse. “Because even they know you look kind of silly. But it’s okay. We’ll get it sorted one way or another.”

“He’s very nice for a sceptic,” Mark remarks. “What is he so nice for?”

“Because he’s soft for Jisung-ie, of course!” Jaemin reaches out for Jisung’s cheek, who ducks away from him with a pout. “Can you blame him?”

“Here,” Jeno says, putting Jisung’s phone in his lap. “Call the hospital. For real this time.”

“I will,” he says, gripping the phone hard. “Really.”

“I believe you.” Jeno smiles at him, pushing off against his knees to stand up straight again. “Okay. Well. What was I doing? Oh, I need to go and get some more paint. I’ll be right back.”

Jeno leaves the room, and Chenle plops down onto the couch next to him. “Well, at least you tried.”

Jisung looks over his shoulder before he answers. It doesn’t really matter if Jeno is gone from the room or not now, but he still doesn’t want to further any notion Jeno might have about how crazy he is. “I should’ve known it wouldn’t go well,” Jisung mumbles. “Jeno’s too smart to believe in ghosts.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Donghyuck huffs.

“It’s okay,” Jaemin says. “He loves you a lot, so he just wants the best for you. Once the doctor realises you really are seeing ghosts, Jeno will believe you too, right?”

“I’m not sure it’s going to work out like that. But thanks, Hyung.”

“Nonsense,” Jaemin scoffs. “That boy would do anything for you. Even believe in ghosts, if he has to. He’ll come around.”

“I just feel so stupid,” Jisung says. “I feel stupid about falling off the roof anyway, because it scared us both and I know he was really worried about me, but now this? I have to go and seem like—like I’m having hallucinations from it when really I’ve just made some new friends—”

“The fall wasn’t stupid, Jisung,” Mark says. “My fall was stupid. Yours was really scary.”

“I know but—I don’t even know how it happened in the first place. I’m a dancer, you know? I’m clumsy, but I’m not careless. I don’t know how I could’ve fallen like that. I keep thinking about it—how it feels like more bad things might happen that I can’t see coming. Or maybe ones I can see coming. Like someone locking me up in a hospital because I’m seeing people who aren’t really there.” He slouches back into the couch. “It’s all a mess.”

There’s an awkward silence in the room, and he looks up to see the ghosts trading looks with each other. Renjun is staring at Jisung, a strange look on his face. He hesitates, then says,

“Jisung—”

“Found it!” Jeno says, coming back into the room with a can of paint in his hand. “Have you made that call yet?”

“Just about to,” Jisung says, waving the phone around as he unlocks it. “I’m going to sit outside, though. The paint is making my head feel funny.”

“Okay. You better show me proof of the appointment this time, though.”

“I will, I will,” Jisung says, waving him off as he leaves the room.

“Maybe Mark from Canada can call for you!” Jeno calls after him.

“Ha, ha, ha.”

“Ooh, can I really try?” Mark says.

Jisung slides open the front door. “If you like. I don’t know if it’ll work though.” He steps down the front stairs and sprawls out on the grass. “What were you going to say, Renjun?”

He turns, but Renjun hasn’t come outside with him. Just Mark, Chenle and Jaemin.

“There’s no way they’ll be able to hear you,” Chenle is saying. “They might be able to hear me if I tap Bang Bang Bang down the phone, but your power isn’t noise, is it?”

“It’s not like we’ve ever tried a phone call before,” Mark argues back. “How do you know I can’t do it?”

“You should find him later and ask him,” Jaemin says with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the only one really paying attention to Jisung. “It might be important.”

“I will,” Jisung sighs, settling down on the grass. “First I have to face the scary receptionist at the hospital.”

-

Ironically, he gets given an appointment for Friday morning after all, three days away from now.

“Jeno will be with you every step of the way,” Jaemin says, reassuring him quietly in the dead of night. Jisung had gotten up to use the toilet after struggling to sleep, and Jaemin is the only other one awake with him. If you can really call it that. The ghosts all lie around with their eyes closed at night, but Jisung isn’t sure it’s actually sleeping at all, considering the fact that Mark is often singing to himself as he does it. “You don’t need to be worried about anything, I promise.”

Perhaps Jaemin has a second ghost power of reading minds, because Jisung has kept quiet about this since the call, but he really is worried about his appointment.

“That’s exactly the problem,” he mumbles, sitting at the dark kitchen table, moonlight streaming in through the windows. “Jeno thinks I’m seeing things. The doctor will think I’m seeing things. What if they want me to take more treatment to fix it? What if they want me to have surgery? What if they lock me up in a hospital room for the rest of my life? What if a group of mediums break me out of my hospital cell because they believe my story, but then I’m held hostage by a bunch of people who want me to talk to their ancestors? What if—”

“Okay, baby, that isn’t going to happen. Other genuine mediums wouldn’t need to break you out, would they? They’d have enough on their hands with their own ghosts.”

Jisung stares at the moon despondently. “I suppose so.”

“And the doctor won’t do anything that drastic to you. As long as you’re not a danger to anyone, there’s no reason to lock you away. I don’t think you could ever be a danger to anyone, Sungie.”

“But now I’ve ruined everything. I don’t know what I’m going to do about school, or the house. I don’t know what I’m going to do about Jeno. He must think so differently of me now. I don’t want him to see me as some sort of—I don’t know—a kid who needs protecting.”

“You are a kid who needs protecting. Desperately.”

“You know what I mean,” he whines, putting his head in his hands. “I don’t like that things are different to how we were before. It was so easy then.”

“Is it because you like him?” Jaemin asks quietly. “You want him to see you as his equal, not as someone to be taken care of.”

Jisung slumps down further on the table so that his head rests in his arms. “Do you have to put it like that?”

“Hate to break it to you, baby, but I decided that you need protecting from the first minute I saw you. Jeno is looking out for you too, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t respect you or see you as your own person. It doesn’t mean he thinks you’re stupid or burdensome. It means he cares for you.”

Jisung peeks up from his arms. “Do you really think that? He doesn’t think I’m totally incapable?”

“I’m sure of it. Trust me, I’m good at reading people. I have 600 years of experience in people-watching.”

“But, you know Jeno—he’s just amazing, amazing at everything he does, and he’s so nice and good to me… I just feel like I’m not even allowed to like him like that—”

“Oh, no,” Jaemin says, taking the seat beside him. “You’re so wonderful and kind too, don’t you see it? You are certainly allowed to crush on a handsome boy like Jeno. You deserve love too, Jisung. So much. I bet if you told him how you feel, he would respond well to you. I have a good feeling about that.”

“That’s not happening,” Jisung says through a breath. “Not while we’re living here together, anyway. I’m too afraid. Also, Jeno thinks I’m hallucinating strange people everywhere at every minute of the day. And I think Donghyuck might freeze me to death if I try to get between them.”

Jaemin waves him away. “The third one isn’t an issue. Donghyuck gets attached fast, but he has his head on straight. He’ll support you if it will make you both happy.”

“Has his head on gay, you mean,” Jisung grins.

“What?”

“Um, never mind. But thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Don’t let him stop you from achieving your dreams. Or anyone else for that matter, didn’t I tell you not to pay any attention to what the others demand of you? If you want to rent this place out to pay for your tuition, then do it! Don’t be scared of Renjun, he’s just testy at times.”

“I’m thinking about it. I’m just aware that you guys can’t leave this place, so I don’t want to make life harder for you. Or make death harder, I suppose. Afterlife? Sorry, I don’t know.”

“He’ll come around once he sees children start to come through here. I know he’s secretly soft for babies, and I bet we’d have some young families in here sooner or later if you rented it out.”

He tries to imagine Renjun cooing over a baby. The thought of it is enough to make him grin to himself, sat here at the dark kitchen table, only Jaemin and the moon for company. He might really be going mad, but it’s hard to feel self-conscious about it when Jaemin is smiling with him, wide and bright.

“And honestly, Jisung, if it’s easier for you to pretend that we’re not here to get on with Jeno better, that’s fine too. You’re the living one, after all. You come first. You have a life to lead, while the rest of us will stay the same forever.”

“Doesn’t it make you sad? Living here all this time, staying in one place?”

“No,” Jaemin says, smile still on his face. “I died too young to have my own family, and now I have all these babies to look after. All six of you. Aren’t I blessed?”

“Jeno is your baby too?”

“He doesn’t know it, but he definitely is. He’s my baby’s baby, so he counts.”

“I’ll let him know,” Jisung laughs.

“You do that,” Jaemin says, sending him a wink. “But for now, you should go back to sleep. Don’t worry too much about anything. It’ll all turn out alright.”

“Thank you, Hyung,” he says, pushing back the kitchen chair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jisung. Sleep tight.”

-

The next day, he’s awake for all of ten minutes before Donghyuck starts shouting for him.

“Jisung!” he shrieks, his voice resonating even from the other side of the house. “Jeno is hurt! Come quickly!”

He immediately abandons his hot chocolate on the kitchen table and runs across the room, ripping the door open and shouting out, “Jeno? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m in here,” Jeno replies. “I’m fine, but could you bring me some tissue?”

Jisung hurries through the rooms towards Jeno’s voice, swiping a box of tissues from a sideboard as he makes his way to the right room with his heart in his throat. Jeno is kneeling in the corner, working on assembling a wardrobe. He’s got a packet of screws at his side and a hammer in one hand, holding his other hand away from his body, blood running down one finger.

“What did you do?” he exclaims, dropping to his knees and ripping a bunch of tissues out of the box. “Is it bad? Does it hurt?”

“I just nicked my finger. It’s fine, it’ll probably stop bleeding in a minute. It’s nothing much.”

He wipes away the blood carefully, cradling Jeno’s hand in his own to look for the injury. He’s right, it is just a little cut in the skin of his finger. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“No, it’s really okay. How did you know to come looking for me, though?”

“Donghyuck said you were hurt,” Jisung says, not looking up at him, wrapping a tissue around his finger and holding it there. “I was really scared for a moment that it would be something worse.” His heart is going a million miles a minute, and he feels strangely short of breath.

Distantly, he registers Jeno putting his hammer on the floor and bringing his hand up to Jisung’s shoulder, just barely cupping his neck. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me, okay? There’s nothing to worry about. Do you want to breathe with me?” He grabs Jisung’s hand and moves it up so it’s resting over Jeno’s heart, and he can faintly feel the heartbeat there, steady and rhythmic. His own sounds like a jackhammer in his ears in comparison.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “I don’t know why I’m freaking out. It’s just a little cut. I don’t—I’m just—”

“It’s okay,” Jeno says, pulling him in close. “It’s okay. Just focus on breathing, Jisung.”

He screws his eyes shut and buries his face in Jeno’s shoulder, awkwardly leaning against him with his hand stuck between them on Jeno’s chest, Jeno rubbing his back slowly. They stay like that for a few minutes as Jisung focuses on breathing, in and out, Jeno isn’t hurt, he’s going to be okay, in and out, everything’s fine, in and out. Jeno doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to move, but stays steadily supporting Jisung the whole time.

Eventually, he breathes in, opens his eyes, and leans out. The other ghosts are all in the room now, spread out around the two of them to watch Jisung. Chenle and Mark are whispering to each other furiously, but it’s the only noise in the room other than the sound of his own breathing.

“You okay?” Jeno asks, wide-eyed and gentle.

“I’m fine,” Jisung says, though he still feels a little shaky. “Sorry. I don’t know what that was.”

“That’s okay,” Jeno says. “These things happen. As long as you’re good now.”

“I am,” he says, pushing himself up. Jeno watches him stand with a little apprehension, but he’s sturdy enough on his own two feet. “I’ll, erm—leave you to the wardrobe. I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Okay. But if something like that happens again, you’ll find me, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, though he can’t think of anything more embarrassing than crying into Jeno’s shoulder over a papercut again. “I will.”

He leaves the room, sensing the ghosts tracking after him as he walks back to the kitchen.

“What was that?” Chenle asks loudly as soon as he closes the door.

“Nothing,” Jisung says quickly. “I just panicked over nothing.”

“Sorry,” Donghyuck says meekly. “Really. I panicked too, but I didn’t want to scare you.”

“It’s alright. I’m glad you called for me,” Jisung says, dipping a finger into his hot chocolate. It’s lukewarm now, so he downs it in one go, pretending like it’s whisky.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Renjun asks, voice low. “Ever since your head injury, you’ve been more afraid. That’s what you said before.”

“Please don’t talk about it,” he says, slamming the mug down on the kitchen side and wiping the back of his mouth. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“I think we have to talk about it,” Renjun says. “Or at least, I think I should tell you the truth.”

“Renjun,” Mark says, a warning in his voice.

The ghosts are silent, and Jisung turns to face Renjun fully. His mouth is turned down, expression serious. “What are you talking about, Hyung?”

“Your fall wasn’t an accident,” Renjun says quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I pushed you from the roof that day,” Renjun says calmly. “The fall wasn’t your fault at all. I’m the one you should blame.”

Jisung gapes at him, struggling to process what he’s hearing. “I—you—what?”

“You should sit down, baby,” Jaemin says quietly, but Jisung steps away from him, looking around at the ghosts.

“No,” he says, stepping away from Jaemin, trying not to back down at the way his face falls. “Is this true? Did you know about it?”

Jaemin nods, mouth pulled tight. “Yes.”

Jisung feels like he’s been hit in the chest with something blunt and painful, an ache that pulses around his heart. “You never told me. None of you ever told me—were you all there when he pushed me? Did you encourage him? Was this all a joke to you?”

“Mark told me not to,” Renjun says, looking at the floor. “But I did it anyway.”

“Why?” he demands, fists curled into balls. He’s shaking, doing his best not to cry again. “Why did you push me?”

“I didn’t like you. I didn’t want you here. You were talking with that woman about staying here and changing things and I didn’t want you to. But Jisung—you have to believe me when I say I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted to scare you a bit.”

“You didn’t think pushing me from a roof would hurt me?” he asks, voice strangled. He laughs a little, feeling half-crazy for real now. “What, did you think I’d bounce off?”

“We push each other off the roof all the time when we’re bored,” Renjun says, voice small. “Obviously it doesn’t hurt us. Mark is the only one who remembers how that sort of thing hurts a living person. I didn’t think it through—I should’ve listened to him. I’m truly sorry, Jisung. I regret it very much, now.”

“You haven’t been sorry enough to tell me the truth! After all this time, living here with you every day—none of you thought to tell me about this?”

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” Mark says, sounding genuinely upset, eyes round and honest. “Really. It’s just that you’re the first living contact we’ve had here, ever. I can’t speak for these guys, but the time you’ve been here has made me feel the most alive I’ve been in twenty years. We didn’t want to scare you away, or ruin our chances with a new friend.”

“Don’t you think you did that when you tried to kill me the day I arrived here?” he asks, voice strained, vision blurred. He’s crying, even though he hadn’t wanted to. Today is just too much.

“Jisung,” Chenle says, face sorrowful too. “We would never do that now. We never thought about seriously hurting you in the first place, we were just excited about someone being in the house after so long—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Jisung chokes out, walking straight through him to reach for the kitchen door.

“Jisung!” Donghyuck calls after him. “We’re really sorry. We love you. Please don’t leave!”

He pauses for only a second. Then he pulls back the kitchen door, wiping his face as he marches through the house, nearly tripping over Jeno’s toolbox in the doorway.

“Jisung?” Jeno says, looking up at him with wide eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Can we leave?” Jisung asks, choking the words out. “Can we get out of here for a bit? I can’t do this today. I don’t want to be here.”

“Yeah,” Jeno says, the plank of wood in his hands hovering over where it’s supposed to slot into the half-built wardrobe. He drops it on the ground, stands, and comes over to grasp Jisung’s arm. “Of course we can. Come and get your shoes on, let’s go for a walk around the park or something.”

“Yes please,” Jisung says, before bursting into tears again.

Jeno brings him into a hug, and Jisung really does cry into his shoulder this time. They stand there for a few minutes, Jisung swaying slightly in his grasp, until Jisung feels a pair of eyes boring into him. Sure enough, when he opens his eyes Jaemin is stood down the hallway, watching him. They make eye contact for just a second until Jisung turns, pulling Jeno to the front door before he can ask any questions.

“You okay?” Jeno asks. “Should I bring anything?”

“No,” Jisung says, looking up to see Renjun and Chenle in the opposite doorway, watching them grab their shoes and coats. “I just need you. You’re the only good thing around here, anyway.”

He takes care to slam the front door behind him, even if he has to go around Jeno and usher him out of the way to do it. None of the ghosts try to follow him.

Chapter Text

“Are you going to tell me what that was back there?” Jeno asks, an hour and a lap around the park later. They’re sitting on a bench together in the early March chill, a 2000-won hot chocolate clutched between his hands and a latte between Jeno’s. He’s not usually a fan of the cold, but it’s grounding him right now—the frosty bite to the air is comforting, somehow. Maybe it’s just being out of that house for once, feeling like he has the space to breathe without five liars following him around. “Did something happen?”

Jisung shrinks further into his puffy coat. “Oh, you know, just betrayal of the worst kind right after I had a panic attack about your papercut. It’s that sort of day.”

“Betrayal?” Jeno asks. “From who?”

“I know you don’t believe in the ghosts, Hyung, but it was one of them. Renjun told me he was the one who pushed me from the roof.” He sniffs, taking a tentative sip from the steaming plastic cup in his hands. “I can’t believe they’ve been keeping this from me all this time.”

Jeno shuffles awkwardly, struggling for an answer. Jisung can almost hear his cogs turning, trying to decide whether to play into Jisung’s beliefs about ghosts or not. Whatever. It doesn’t really matter what Jeno says now. If Jisung never sees the ghosts again, that’ll be fine by him. They were the ones freeloading from him, after all! He doesn’t need them.

He doesn’t think about Jaemin’s soothing words in the middle of the night, or about laughing at Chenle trying to learn the dance to Tell Me. He doesn’t think of Donghyuck lying between them on a night, quietly telling them stories of his childhood even though he knows Jisung is the only one that can hear him. He doesn’t think of Mark and the virtual pet he’s so fond of on the tablet, or of Renjun, quietly thanking him for his new Sherlock books. Sitting behind a tree, still afraid of death, 70 years into being dead. Telling Jisung, with full honesty, that he’d been the one to push him, when he could’ve kept it to himself forever. Because he’d been worried about Jisung, and had wanted him to stop being afraid.

“Jisung?” Jeno is saying, waving a hand in front of his face, and Jisung jolts out of it. He’s not thinking about those things.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking himself. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it. I kind of can’t wait to move out now, though. I thought they were my friends, but I guess not.”

“Maybe we should spend the night at my place,” Jeno says kindly. “I could do with going back to wash my clothes, anyway. I’m close to running out. And maybe you’ll be free of any ghosts at my apartment.”

Jisung shrugs. He hasn’t been out of the house much since his injury, but their walk around the park is enough to tell him that his new visions aren’t restricted to the hanok. There are a number of people out here in the park, no coat, in full hanbok or other old-fashioned clothing, wandering around on their own. They walk in aimless circles, some of them, or sit in small groups, unaffected by the cold. He tries not to stare so they won’t catch on that he can see them, but it’s yet another heavy realisation of the day—that he can see ghosts everywhere, now. That he’ll never be able to stop seeing dead people for the rest of his life.

Great. Just great.

“That might be good,” he says weakly. His own clothes are needing a wash, and their washing machine at the hanok isn’t due to be delivered for another few days. He could do with some space away from the others, too—Jeno lives on the eighth floor of a fairly modern apartment complex, so hopefully there should be no ghosts there. “Your flatmate won’t mind, will he?”

“Oh, Sungchan actually moved out a little while ago,” Jeno says, scratching the back of his head. “Moved in with his girlfriend instead.”

“What?” Jisung reels, blinking at him. “Really? How are you affording the rent?”

“I have enough saved to manage for a little while, but I am looking for a flatmate to replace him. Been kind of distracted since your injury, though.”

“Sorry,” Jisung says meekly, shrivelling up further into the bench. “I didn’t even think to ask! I’m so sorry, Hyung.”

“Don’t be stupid, you’ve had a lot going on. I’m managing for now.” Jeno thumbs the lip of his cup a little hesitantly. “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to move in with me. I live in the sort of area you were looking for and everything… but if you’ve decided to stay in the hanok now…”

“What?” Jisung asks, sitting up a little straighter. “Do you mean that? You want me to move in?”

“Yeah,” Jeno says, looking up. “Of course. I’d much rather have you than anyone else.”

“Even after all my crazy ghost visions? And crying on you this morning?”

“Even after that,” Jeno says, eye smile in place. “You’re not that much weirder than you were before the accident, you know. Just a bit less predictable now.”

Jisung punches him half-heartedly, and Jeno laughs into his latte. “I can’t believe you didn’t say this earlier.”

“We had other things going on. And you told me yesterday you were thinking of staying in the house instead.”

“I’ve changed my mind again,” Jisung says. “I’ll move in with you. I never really wanted to live there in the first place, I was just trying to please Renjun. But he’s a liar and a meanie, so I’m not doing that anymore.”

“Alright,” Jeno says. “Let’s go home now then! That way I can give you a viewing of your new home.”

“I’ve been to your place plenty,” Jisung says, but he can’t stop himself from smiling at the suggestion. “I know what it’s like. It’s perfect.”

“Sold to the highest bidder!” Jeno says, standing and holding a hand out to Jisung. “Come on. Let’s go back and grab our clothes so we can properly get warm in my flat. You can call Sungchan on the way and tell him he needs to pick up the last of his stuff already.”

He takes Jeno’s hand and pulls himself up, but underestimates the strength Jeno puts into the gesture. He ends up propelled a few steps forward, almost colliding with Jeno, the two of them chest to chest in the cold park. His half-finished hot chocolate slops about in the cup, but thankfully doesn’t spill over. He laughs nervously, breathy, blowing white air into Jeno’s face.

Jeno grins. “You smell like chocolate.”

Jisung takes a step back, cheeks suddenly heating up. “Probably because of this, genius.” He holds up his cup with a little too much force, and this time a little of the liquid does jump out onto the grass.

Jeno laughs at him. “Probably that.” He still has Jisung’s hand in his, and doesn’t let go as they turn to walk down the park path. In fact, he even changes the angle so that their hands fit together better. “Come on, let’s go. That hoodie you’ve been wearing all week could do with being washed sooner rather than later.”

-

The doctor’s appointment is underwhelming, in the end. He’s honest about everything that he’s experienced, too—that he had headaches for the first few days but they’re better now, and that he saw some strange things for a few days after that but they’ve also been disappearing lately. Well, not strictly speaking disappearing, but he certainly has barely seen the ghosts since he returned to the house, though he can still hear them talking and moving around beyond doorways and around corners. Even Donghyuck manages to keep away from Jeno, though sometimes Jisung catches him scampering away through walls when he enters a room. He appreciates the space, but then again, giving him some room after admitting they nearly killed him is probably the least they could do.

The doctor seems happy, advises him to lower his medication intake and update him on the situation at his next check-up. He’s hopeful that Jisung will make a full recovery, he says. Jisung attends his physiotherapy check-up after that, and they’re pleased with his situation too. And that’s it.

“You did tell him about the people you’ve been seeing, right?” Jeno asks, tentatively, as the car pulls up to the house.

“I really did, Hyung, I promise! He didn’t seem too worried. He thinks all my symptoms will go away with time, so I don’t need to take any new medication for now.”

Jeno nods, brow furrowed. “I suppose he would know best. I’m sure he’s right.” He shoots Jisung a smile, and Jisung tries for a half-hearted one back before stepping out of the car.

When he steps inside the house, he can hear the ghosts talking in low voices in one of the rooms to the right, so he deliberately goes to the left to walk through the house. He and Jeno are going to make lunch together and then Jeno will continue work on the house, and Jisung even has permission from the doctor to do some light work with him, so he’s decided he’s going to start weeding up the overgrown courtyard in the middle of the house. The rest of the day will be productive, and he certainly won’t to be side-tracked by any annoying ghosts.

Jeno stops short in front of him when he steps through the kitchen door, and Jisung walks right into him, bouncing from his back abruptly. “What is it?” he asks, rubbing his nose.

“The music,” Jeno says with a frown. The radio is on low, playing a bubbly pop song. “I’m sure we turned it off.”

“Maybe we didn’t,” Jisung says. Then the kettle clicks, water just finished boiling.

“And the kettle too…” Jeno says slowly. “How did it turn itself on right before we came in?”

Jisung looks to his right, where Renjun and Mark are not-so-subtly peering around the corner at him. As soon as Jisung spots them, they both whip back around the corner as if nothing had happened. He can hear Chenle’s loud whispering from further in the room asking them what’s happening, and Jaemin hushing him in response.

“And the post…” Jeno continues, finally walking further into the kitchen. “It’s been put on the table, but we had to walk over it to get out of the house, I remember that. The kitchen in general—isn’t it tidier?” He scratches his head, looking around. “You didn’t do this when I wasn’t looking, did you?”

Jisung holds his hands out, cracking a small smile. “Still don’t believe in ghosts, Hyung?”

“I—well—” Jeno says, looking around. “I didn’t know one of your ghosts had mail-collecting powers.”

“I guess his pushing also extends to pulling, kicking, clicking the kettle on, and picking up small objects,” Jisung says, though he’s secretly a little bit impressed. He’s only seen Renjun’s power work in short bursts before, so he must’ve really put in effort to carry the envelopes across the whole house like this.

“Right,” Jeno says, frowning down at the spam mail for maternity bras. “I’m just going to check that there’s no one else in the house.”

“Okay,” Jisung says, though he knows there won’t be anyone. The others would’ve warned him if there was an intruder, argument or not. “You do that. You want some tea? Since the kettle is already boiled?”

“Yeah, please,” Jeno says, though he’s distracted, already making his way up the kitchen stairs into the main part of the house again. When he pulls back the kitchen door, Renjun is stood right behind it, allowing Jeno to walk through him.

Jisung looks back at the mugs he’s pulling from the cupboards, but Renjun doesn’t leave, stepping neatly inside the room as the door closes behind Jeno. The rest of the ghosts follow close after him, standing silently in the doorway. When no one says anything, Chenle nudges Renjun forward, who stumbles slightly and turns back to glare at him. Then he sighs and turns back to face Jisung, taking in a deep breath then releasing it.

“Jisung, I know you’re not happy with us, and you have every right to feel that way. But I came to apologise to you properly. I want you to know that I’m truly sorry about hurting you. I never wanted to cause you real harm. You don’t need to forgive me, but please believe that I am your friend. We all are. No matter what we thought at first, now we all agree we want you to be happy here.” Amazingly, he even gives Jisung a formal bow. “Please don’t worry about us from now on. We’ll worry about you instead.”

“I’m sorry too, Jisung,” Jaemin says, from the right of Renjun. “I wish we had been honest with you from the start.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you, too,” Donghyuck says, fiddling with his hands.

“And I’m sorry for annoying you at night, and pestering you about the tablet, and asking too many questions when you’re busy,” Chenle says, dragging his shoe along the floor.

“We’re just really sorry about everything, honestly,” Mark says. “And we thought you deserved a proper apology for it.”

Jisung looks at each of them, one by one, at the way they look back at him. All meeting his eyes, all appropriately ashamed, but a little hopeful too. Looking for their friend back.

“Thank you for your apology,” he says stiffly. “And for doing this.” He gestures to the kitchen at large. “I appreciate it. It’s just going to take me a bit of time, you know?”

“No problem,” Jaemin says instantly. “We know a thing or two about waiting. Anything for you, Jisung-ie.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Renjun says, looking marginally more relaxed. “I thought you might be upset that I moved your things, but Chenle was convinced it would be nice.”

“It is,” Jisung says, fiddling with the mug awkwardly. “Though I thought you could only move things when you feel passionately about it?”

“Well,” Renjun starts, hesitantly.

“He feels passionately about you,” Donghyuck finishes, and Renjun turns to hit him.

“Passion is just another way of saying he can do it when he cares,” Mark says. “He cares enough to make it up to you.”

“You showed me kindness before when I didn’t deserve it,” Renjun says, choosing to look down as he straightens out his uniform. “So I wanted to show you some kindness now, even though you deserve more than this. Better than us.”

Jisung looks down too, abashed. “Thank you. I think you spooked Jeno a little bit, but it is a nice gesture. I accept your apology.”

The kitchen door scrapes back. “What about me?”

“Nothing much,” he says, looking over Jaemin’s head at Jeno. “Renjun’s post-carrying powers were responsible for all of this. And Mark on the radio, I’m guessing,” Jisung says, finally digging around in the cupboard for their tea leaves. “No home invaders, right?”

“Nope,” Jeno says, looking around the room suspiciously, as if he tries hard enough he might be able to see the ghosts responsible for boiling his water and neatening up his power tools.

The radio suddenly switches to a slow, romantic song, a crooning female voice filling the room. Jisung looks over at Mark, who has a hand over the tablet, the screen showing up on a Melon Music page titled a playlist for lovers.

Jisung’s cheeks feel hot when Jeno points at the radio, eyebrows raised. “Did Mark from Canada do that, too?”

“Yup,” Jisung says, going over and hastily locking the tablet before Jeno can see it. “Not sure why, though,” he grits out, directing that Mark’s way.

“What, you don’t like it?” Mark says, looking between him and Jeno. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Aren’t you two about to make food together? I’m setting the mood in here!”

“Yes, we’re going to make lunch,” Jisung says, making a shooing motion. “Alone. With normal music on.”

The radio changes back to the station from before. “Alright,” Mark says, hopping up the kitchen steps, straight through Jeno and out the door. “At least you can’t say I didn’t do my part!”

“Yours is only the third part in a seven-step apology plan,” Chenle says, running up the steps after him. “Don’t go taking all the credit yet!”

“Seven-step?” Jisung asks weakly, looking at Jaemin, who only winks at him before turning out of the room, too.

“Don’t worry, we’re only going to do the reasonable steps,” Renjun says, the last to take his leave as he pushes Donghyuck out the door in front of him, who’s wriggling and whining about staying beside Jeno for as long as he can, because he hasn’t hung out with him properly in so long! “You don’t have to worry about us. Have a nice evening, Jisung!”

He slides the kitchen door shut behind him as he leaves, and Jeno takes several steps backwards at the sight of it, staring at the door in disbelief. He looks back to Jisung, who just shrugs. It’s a novelty not to be the shaken one between them for once.

“Renjun?” Jeno asks, slightly nervously.

Jisung nods. One upside of these supposed apology gestures is that Jeno might actually come to believe him about the house being haunted sooner rather than later. “Don’t worry about him. He apologised about the roof incident. He really didn’t mean to hurt me, I think.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeno says, eyeing up the door warily. “Are they gone? From the room, I mean?”

Jisung shoots him a smile. “Yeah. Don’t worry Hyung, they’re harmless whether you believe in them or not.”

“Right,” Jeno says, blinking a few times. “If you say so.”

-

Jeno is shivering next to him in the dark that night, lying with Jisung on his left, Donghyuck cuddling up on his right. They have a real bed at this point, a big one in the almost-complete master bedroom that they’ve been sharing for several nights now. Donghyuck often joins them, even if it means hanging on the edge of the bed or sleeping partially eclipsed with Jeno when he rolls too far over on his side. But even on the previous nights Donghyuck had slept beside Jeno, head on his chest or hands on his bicep, Jeno had never been cold like this, and Jisung believes him when he says he can choose whether to inflict his ghost power or not. That leaves him to wonder what the hell he’s doing right now, trying to give Jeno pneumonia for no apparent reason.

He would lean over to ask why he’s deliberately affecting Jeno, but Jeno is obviously awake and he still feels kind of awkward talking to the ghosts while Jeno is in the room. There’s no way this is part of their seven-step apology plan, after all. Unless it is?

“Why is it so cold in here tonight?” Jeno mutters, pulling the blanket as far up as he can, teeth gritted together.

Jisung sits up at that, propping himself up on his elbow to glare over at Donghyuck as he speaks. “I don’t know. Why is it?”

Donghyuck just winks up at him. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt him. And don’t complain, I’m doing this for you.”

“Do you feel it too?” Jeno asks.

“No, I’m not cold,” Jisung replies. He’s the opposite of cold. He had kicked away the blanket ages ago because he’s so warm he was afraid he’d smell of sweat in the morning otherwise.

“Maybe you should lend him some body heat,” Donghyuck says sweetly. “I can’t really do heat, and my poor Jeno deserves cuddles! I’m not a jealous man, after all.”

“You’re not cold?” Jeno asks, as Jisung stares at Donghyuck with rising alarm. So this is the plan? “Seriously?”

He seems to have had the same idea as Donghyuck, because then he reaches out and grabs for Jisung’s hand, making him shiver at the contact. It’s probably because Jisung is running warmer than usual right now, but Jeno feels like he’s been sticking his hands inside a freezer.

“Oh, you are hot!” Jeno says, bringing Jisung’s hand to his cold cheek. “Why are you so hot?”

“I—" Jisung stammers, finding himself flushing warmer. “Well—I’m just warm right now, I guess—”

Jeno blows out a breath as he shivers, the differences in their body temperatures giving him goosebumps. The breath fans over Jisung’s collarbone, and Jeno scoots closer to him on the mattress, and Jisung thinks he might die.

“Is this okay?” Jeno asks, voice echoing in his ears from how close they are. “Might help if we share body heat. Especially if it’s your body heat we’re sharing right now, wow—you’re not running a fever or something are you?” He puts one of his cold hands up to Jisung’s forehead as he rolls over to press his body along the line of Jisung’s, who full-body shivers at the contact. He’s not sure it’s entirely down to the cold. “Oh. Sorry. I mean, we don’t have to…”

“It’s fine,” Jisung says, after taking a few seconds to find his breath. He holds an arm out to awkwardly pull Jeno into him, head resting into the crook of Jisung’s neck, throwing the weight of their blankets over him. “Don’t worry about it.” He finds himself glaring at Donghyuck as Jeno sighs, burying his cold nose in the juncture of Jisung’s neck and shoulder.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and Donghyuck’s hands are off him now. Jisung can already feel him warming up in his arms.

Donghyuck blows Jisung a kiss. Or possibly Jeno, he’s not sure. “Thank me in the morning, Jisung.”

Jisung makes a cutting motion across his throat, but with the way he and Jeno are slotted together it probably looks more like a gesture to the two of them cuddled up, which makes Donghyuck smile wider.

“I know,” he whispers delightedly. “You two are so cute! Goodnight!”

He skips from the room, dragging Chenle away from where he was watching from the doorway like a total creep, their quick whispering punctured with a few giggles. Jisung thinks that he’ll kill the both of them. Then he remembers that they’re already dead.

-

“Jisung?” Jeno’s voice calls for him through several rooms.

Jisung can only just hear him from where he’s sat in the entrance of the courtyard, hacking away at the weeds and leaves and overgrown plants blocking the doorway. “Yeah?” he yells back, pausing after yanking up a particularly stubborn handful of crabgrass.

“What does this mean?” His voice is closer now, treading through the house to meet him. “The thing you just texted me?”

“What?” He squints up at him. “I didn’t text you anything.”

“You didn’t?” Jeno says, frowning at his screen. “Maybe it’s spam or something, then.”

Jisung looks past him to where Mark is sat in the Twister room (no longer hidden from Jeno, no point, too much effort) with Jisung’s phone on the floor in front of him, frowning at the screen and muttering to someone just out of view. “It’s not that unreadable, he’ll get it in a minute! You try typing with no hands—”

“You did it before,” Chenle replies, leaning around the door to glance over at Jeno, then stopping when he meets Jisung’s narrowed eyes instead. “Not that I know anything about this, good try Hyung!” As Jisung stands, he also leaps up from the floor and darts away through the nearest wall.

“Can I see?” he asks Jeno, holding out his hand for the phone.

“Sure,” he says, passing it to him without hesitation. “Could you put it on charge when you’re done? I’m going to go up and work on the roof again, see if I can figure out where that corner room leak is coming from.”

“Uh-huh,” Jisung says, only vaguely registering Jeno walking away again. He’s too focused on the series of unintelligible texts that have appeared from his number.

The first is a cutesy emoji of a dog with heart eyes. The second is the eye emoji, followed by a string of mismatched hearts in the third. The fourth is a long string of ‘UUUUU’ which devolves into a keyboard smash somewhere around the third line. Then the fifth message is in Korean, a string of characters that make no sense put together, but when Jisung types them out for himself, the keyboards suggests be, my, and boyfriend as corrections.

Jisung physically jerks at that, then looks up at Mark, who’s watching him a little sheepishly. “No good?”

He does his best to take a deep breath in. “Did Donghyuck set you up to this? Or Chenle? Or both?”

“I’m kind of concerned for their lives if I tell you the truth,” Mark says, nose all scrunched-up and honest.

“They’re already dead!” Jisung shouts, then wills himself to cool it. “It’s fine. It’s nonsense, and I know this is what Chenle thinks a nice deed is. But why did you go along with it?”

“Well, no sane person would confess like this,” Mark says, gesturing to the phone. “I didn’t think Jeno would actually take it seriously even if he did understand it. But I thought maybe it would put an idea in his head, just a little nudge in the right direction. You guys would be so cute together if one of you could make the first move, you know.” He shrugs, self-conscious. “Did I overstep a line? I didn’t mean to make you mad, Jisung.”

“I’m not mad,” he says, taking in deep breaths, hands clasped together. “Just kind of stressed out by Chenle’s hare-brained ideas. I’m going to go and talk to him. Where are the others?”

“They’re all in the front garden, watching Jeno,” Mark says, standing and walking with him as Jisung heads for the front of the house. “They’re trying to give you space while also—” he gestures vaguely to the phone on the ground. “You know. Making you happy.”

He pauses at the front door, knocking his head against it as he slips his shoes on. “They mean well, don’t they?”

“They really do,” Mark assures him. “Jaemin and Renjun mean well by trying to reign them in, too. I guess you start to go a little crazy when the only other people you have to bounce off are other dead people for hundreds of years.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Though I have a suspicion Chenle and Donghyuck were probably not that different in their actual lives.”

“Kids who never got the chance to properly grow up? Yeah, probably.” Jisung looks at him, and Mark shoots him a little smile. “Not that I’m trying to excuse some questionable decisions that have been made, but… you know. The fact that I’m technically the oldest in our age at death makes complete sense sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“That’s kind of weird, actually,” Jisung mutters. “But I’m still younger than all of you,” he says, sliding the front door back, “which is why you should all be nicer to me!”

Renjun is stood closer to the door than he’d expected, leaning against the wall to stand in the shade of the house. The other three are laid out on the grass further out, looking up at the roof, Chenle and Donghyuck sitting up with a start when he opens the door.

“We are being nice to you!” Donghyuck complains. “You haven’t even thanked me for the cuddles last night yet!”

“Jisung?” Jeno’s voice says from above him. “Are you talking to me?”

“Nope!” Jisung shouts back. “Carry on! I’m just saying that in general, people should be nicer to me!” He makes a face and points at Chenle, which he hopes comes across as stern enough.

“What do you think all this is for?” Chenle says. “I haven’t even asked you to open the tablet once today! This is my best behaviour!”

He can hear the sounds of Jeno making his way down the roof towards the ladder despite his orders, so Jisung flings away the last of his embarrassment and walks closer to Chenle. “I appreciate that!” he says firmly. “I can tell these are your best efforts, and it means a lot to me that you’re trying! But you don’t need to interfere in my life to make me happy!”

“If you got a boyfriend, you would be happier! I’m just trying to put the pieces together! You don’t even need to worry about it!” Chenle says, standing so he can cross his arms properly. “Don’t shout at me!”

“I’m not!” Jisung says, crossing his arms too. “I’m asking you nicely to stop!”

“But why!”

“Jisung,” Jeno says tentatively, now stood beside him. “Are you having another funny turn?”

“Because this is what happens,” he hisses, pointing at Jeno without looking at him. “It doesn’t help anything in the end!”

“It would if you just kept quiet and let me do my work!” Chenle huffs. “Besides, Jeno almost believes in us now. Doesn’t that make everything easier for you?”

Jisung sighs through his teeth, a palm over his face. “Can’t you stick to putting on the kettle and letting me have five minutes to myself? Trust me, it was better! I just want you to stop interfering in my life!”

Chenle opens his mouth to reply, but doesn’t get the chance to before a strange noise cuts him off. It’s a grating, rattling noise of stone grinding against stone, something flat and heavy, something right above them—something that sounds like it’s gaining speed—

“Look out!” Jeno shouts, hands suddenly on Jisung, pushing him so that he stumbles back and lands on the grass. As he’s landing, he can see the object make itself known, tipping over the edge of the roof—it’s one of the loose tiles Jeno had been tinkering with, having slipped free and come skidding down the sloped roof. It’s falling right over Jeno’s head.

It seems to happen in slow-motion—as he lands, bracing himself on his hands, he sees Jeno bending over instinctually, trembling as he waits for the hit, no time to move after pushing Jisung away. The stone tile is falling straight onto his head—

Then Renjun steps out from behind him, making a full swipe in the air with his arm, knocking the tile away and off its course. It flies to the right, away from Jeno, and shatters with a tinkering smash on the stone path of the garden. Donghyuck jumps and screams even as the stone pieces scatter right through him.

Jeno, still bent over with his hands clutched to his head, cracks an eye open. He looks around at the shattered tile on the garden path, then tentatively removes his hands, looking up at the rooftop above him. “Wha—” he stammers, looking around at Jisung for answers. “What just happened?”

Jisung scrambles to his feet and puts his hands to Jeno’s head, feeling for injury. Rationally he knows he won’t find one because the tile never even touched him, but his heart is beating about a million miles a minute and his gut is screaming at him to hold Jeno in his hands, so he does, pulls him closer and lets Jeno clutch his shirt and breathe heavily into his shoulder.

“What was that?” he asks, voice pitched. “I swear it was—it was right above—”

“Renjun,” Jisung says, voice coming out cracked and embarrassingly high, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. “It was Renjun—I think he just saved your life.”

Renjun is looking at them both with wide eyes, then down at his hands, like he’s surprised himself too. “I’ve never done anything that spontaneous before. I didn’t even think about it.”

“Thank you,” he says, clutching Jeno like his life depends on it even as Jeno attempts to lift his head. “Thank you, Renjun, so much, I take it back, you can interfere in my life all you want. Oh my God—I can’t believe that just happened—”

“Oh,” Donghyuck says, dropping to wobbly knees in the grass. “I think I’m indebted to you forever, Renjun.”

“That was so cool,” Mark says, gaping at them from the doorway. “Seriously, dude, where did you learn that!”

Renjun is glowing an embarrassed pink now. “Like I said—it was an instinct, anyone would do it—”

“Renjun?” Jeno says, and they all stop to look at him. Jisung releases the grip he has on Jeno’s head, allowing Jeno to look around, but keeps a hand on his arm, not wanting to let him go. “Thank you.” He stumbles slightly in Jisung’s grip, and Jisung holds on tighter. “Sorry I didn’t believe in you, but I think I do now.”

“Wow,” Chenle says. “So that’s what it took.”

“Come on, let’s go inside. I think you need to sit down,” Jisung says, supporting Jeno up the steps into the house again. Jeno’s legs only wobble slightly.

“When I said redemption, Renjun, I didn’t expect you to take it seriously!” Donghyuck shouts from behind them.

“Shut it, Donghyuck!”

“You did well, Renjun,” he hears Jaemin say, and Jisung doesn’t have to turn to see his smile. “I knew you would come around.”

“Just so you know, this is not the normal way you solidify a friendship with someone,” comes Mark’s voice.

“I know!” Renjun huffs, though Jisung can tell he’s pleased with himself too. “I was alive once, you know!”

They reach the kitchen door, and Renjun darts in front of them to pull it open. Jisung waits, but Renjun’s hands go right through the handle, and the force of his failed pull tips him to one side.

“Ha!” Chenle says, laughing from beside them. “You can’t get them all!”

“What is it?” Jeno asks, looking between Jisung and the door.

“Renjun tried to get it, but I think he’s done enough for one day,” Jisung replies, reaching out for the door on his own.

“Oh,” Jeno says faintly. “Cute.” His knees give way again, and Jisung has to half-drag him into a kitchen chair, where he promptly rests his head on the table. Jisung flounders for a second, then quickly clicks the kettle on. Their favourite fix-it is always food or hot drinks, after all, and Jeno really deserves a coffee right now.

“Well,” Chenle says, taking a heavy seat beside Jeno as if he’d just had a near-death experience too. “That wasn’t technically part of the plan, but I’d say the apology is finally complete now!”

Jaemin shoots him a look. Jisung rests his elbows on the kitchen side, still a little shaken up himself.

“Apology accepted,” he says. “But please, let’s agree that none of the events of the past few weeks should ever happen again.”

“Agree,” Jeno says into the kitchen table.

“Agreed,” Renjun says, with emphasis.

“Fine,” Chenle huffs. “Take all the fun out of life, why don’t you?”

“Death,” Jaemin corrects. “We’re a household of dead and nearly-died people, Chenle, are you ever going to remember that?”

“Nearly-died,” Mark says thoughtfully, and Jisung raises his head to look at him. “That’s right. You both nearly died in this house now. Do you think… actually, Jisung, can you come here for a second?”

“What is it?” he asks.

Jeno raises his head to look at him, but doesn’t ask. He looks haunted, but Jisung is just glad he’s still conscious. He takes the chair between Jeno and Mark and reaches out for Jeno’s hand without thinking too hard about it. A small comfort for both of them.

“Can you—I don’t know—hold my hand or something?” Mark lays his hand out on the table, and Jisung eyes it warily.

“Why?”

“I just want to see something,” Mark says, eyes on Jeno.

Jisung narrows his eyes at him, but complies. He puts his hand out on the table, palm up since he can’t touch Mark, allowing Mark to put his hand over Jisung’s.

Jeno screams, ripping his hand from Jisung’s and standing up from his chair so fast that it scrapes back a few steps, and then he stumbles into sitting on it again. Eyes impossibly wide, he raises a shaky finger to point at Jisung. No, not at Jisung—just past Jisung. At Mark.

“What—what—” he gasps, clutching the side of his chair with his other hand. “Who—”

Jisung looks back at Mark, who’s grinning. “Hi, man,” he says in English. “I’m Mark.”

Jeno gapes at him, moving his hand over his mouth instead. “Mark from Canada,” he whispers.

“You can see him?” Jisung asks, voice a squeak. “How?”

“Jeno had a near-death experience!” Chenle exclaims. “Can you see me, Jeno? Can you see me too?”

“No,” Jaemin says, tilting his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Jeno didn’t die like Jisung did.”

“Right,” Mark says, taking his hand from Jisung’s grip.

Jeno blinks, then looks around, confused. “W-where did he go?”

“It’s Jisung’s ghost powers,” Mark says.

Jisung stares down at his palm. “My ghost powers,” he repeats, staring. The room is still for a moment, then Chenle lunges over the table to grab Jisung’s hand.

“Hi Jeno!” he says. “Hi! I’m Chenle!”

Jeno jolts a bit less violently this time before staring at Chenle, dumbfounded. Donghyuck starts moving too, reaching out to touch the skin of Jisung’s neck. Jisung can’t feel a thing, but Jeno’s eyes shift up to look at Donghyuck too.

“Hello,” Donghyuck says, twisting his clothing in his hands, uncharacteristically shy. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jisung looks over at Renjun and Jaemin, who are looking at each other, Jaemin shaking his head.

“I think he can wait to meet us,” Renjun says, sticking a finger inside one of his bullet holes.

“Poor fellow looks like he’s about to pass out,” Jaemin remarks.

“Like he’s seen a ghost?” Renjun asks, a sly smile on his face.

Jisung looks back at Jeno, who does look as white as a sheet. Behind them, the kettle finishes boiling with a click.

“Jeno,” Jisung says, as calmly as he can, standing and pulling himself away from Chenle and Donghyuck. “I know this is a lot. Are you okay?”

“No,” Jeno says, staring into the middle distance. “Not really.”

“Okay,” Jisung says softly. “Do you want to lie down? The ghosts are banned from our bedroom now, so you can have some peace in there.”

“Aw, since when?” Chenle whines.

“Since right now,” Jisung says, taking Jeno’s hands and pulling him to his feet. “Is that clear?”

Chenle crosses his arms. “Well, are we friends again?”

Jisung looks at him. All five ghosts stare right back. “Of course,” he says. “You’re like the annoying family I always wanted, but never thought I could have.”

Chenle softens, a smile working its way onto his face. “Then I suppose it’s fine. But tell Jeno to hurry up and get used to us being here quickly, I want to annoy him too!”

Jaemin knocks Chenle over the back of his head. “Go and lie down together, Jisung, we won’t disturb you.”

Jisung takes Jeno through to their messy bedroom, guiding him onto the pillows as Jeno shuts his eyes.

“What the hell just happened,” he mutters, crossing his hands over his chest like that might protect him from the undead in their house. Jisung laughs, patting his shoulder.

“That’s what I’ve been wondering ever since we arrived here,” Jisung says. “At least now you know I’m not crazy.

“Your ghost friends are real,” Jeno says, dazed. “I don’t think I can ever shower in this house again.”

“It’s alright. Donghyuck understands boundaries. Most of the time.” He scrunches up his face. “Some of the time. He does with nudity, anyway.”

“Got it.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be when I stop shaking. Will you stay with me until then?”

“Of course,” Jisung says, shuffling further down until he’s resting on the pillow beside Jeno’s. “Do you want to talk about something else?”

“It’s okay,” Jeno breathes. “I nearly died, but I didn’t. There are ghosts in the house, and one saved my life, the same one that nearly killed you. This was all to find a leak in the roof. I don’t need to know any more. This is enough.”

Jisung laughs, soft. “Okay.”

They stay like that, side by side, for several minutes. Jisung listens to the distant sounds of the ghosts talking together in the kitchen, and the close sounds of Jeno’s breathing, in and out, rhythmic. He finds it easy, being here. At Jeno’s side. He could stay like this forever, if Jeno asked him to.

“On second thought,” Jeno says, interrupting their silence. “Can you tell me about the ghosts again? I think I need to know more about the one with a crush on me.”

-

“Mark, do you want to come and pick the movie?” Jisung shouts through to the kitchen, where he knows Mark is watching Jeno stir the kimchi jjigae.

“Hell yes!” comes the reply, followed by Mark bursting through the new kitchen door and cutting across the neat centre courtyard to reach Jisung as quickly as possible. “There are so many things I want to watch that I wouldn’t get through them all even if you gave me the remote permanently, but I want to show Chenle this alien movie I was talking about a few years ago.”

“Alien movie?” Chenle materialises through a traditional wall hanging and hooks his chin over Mark’s shoulder. “Are we watching that today?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jisung asks warily, watching him navigate Netflix in a few glitchy movements. Watching movies as a group usually consists of Jaemin asking what’s going on every five minutes, Chenle marvelling over how interesting everything looks (especially in the foreign movies), and Donghyuck checking over and over again that story isn’t actually happening, that it’s not real. Introducing them to sci-fi seems like a disaster waiting to happen.

“If ghosts are real, why not aliens?” Renjun says from the doorway. “I’ve been trying to convince Donghyuck of this for years. I think we should watch it so I can make him a believer.”

“Don’t say that too loudly,” Jisung says, spotting Donghyuck coming into the room in front of Jeno.

“Who’s being loud?” Donghyuck asks. “That’s my job.” He promptly does a victory scream to prove his point.

“Kimchi jjigae is finished,” Jeno announces, holding a pot up between gloved hands. “Did someone pick a movie?”

“Mark wants to watch Close Encounters,” Jisung says. “But I’m thinking that’s a can of worms I’m not ready to open.”

“No, please let’s watch the alien movie! Mark said it was really cool!” Chenle whines, grabbing Jisung’s arm and turning to Jeno. “I want to watch the alien movie, please say you want to watch the alien movie too!”

Jeno blinks a few times, but puts the pot down on the table without startling at Chenle’s appearance. He’s been getting well acquainted with the ghosts over the past few weeks—much slower than Jisung had, but he does his best for someone who can only see them part-time —and he’s especially soft for Chenle. Chenle knows this well and takes full advantage of it.

“I don’t see what harm it could do,” Jeno says, nonchalant, and Jisung knows he’s already lost. Jaemin is apathetic about movies, more interested in the smell of the stew on the table, and Donghyuck will go along with whatever Jeno wants to do. He’s outnumbered six to one.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I guess we’re watching the alien movie, then.”

Chenle and Mark cheer as Jisung flops back onto their big couch. They’re almost loud enough to mask the sound of his phone pinging with a notification, Chenle plopping down next to him to read it over his shoulder. Jeno starts plating up two hearty bowls of stew for them as Jisung goes into his emails.

“Hey, that listings place got back to me,” he says, skimming through the details.

“Oh?”

Jisung smiles, looking up at Jeno. “They said they’d be happy to list the hanok as soon as possible. The price they’re recommending for a night’s stay is—well, it’s a lot more than I thought. It’s kind of amazing.”

“Nice!” Jeno says, kneeling up straighter with the ladle in hand. “Jisung, that’s great news!”

“So you’re renting out the house after all?” Jaemin asks, looking up from where he’s sat cross-legged on their shiny floor.

“I haven’t confirmed it yet,” he says, looking around at the rest of the ghosts in the room. Renjun had slipped in to join them at some point, watching the conversation quietly from the corner, and Jisung nervously avoids his eyes. “I wanted to ask you guys about it first. I’ll only confirm it if you’re happy with this living situation for the foreseeable future.”

“We would be coming back,” Jeno says, setting the ladle back in the pot. He speaks awkwardly to the room in general, only able to see Chenle. “We’d be here plenty, so in no way is this a goodbye.”

“As long as you come back loads, I don’t mind,” Chenle says, clutching Jisung’s arm and putting his head on his shoulder. “And you leave the TV here so I can still watch things.”

“That’s fine, but you also have to promise not to scare anyone here too much, or mess with their things,” Jisung says. “A serious haunting is bad for business.”

“But I can haunt them a little bit, right? It’s authentic for an old house!”

“Just a little bit.” He holds up his thumb and index finger close together. “That much haunting is okay.”

“In that case, I agree,” Donghyuck says, lying on the floor beside Jeno. “It’s a good deal for all of us!”

Jaemin only smiles at him. He and Mark have always been positive about the idea, so he takes Jaemin’s grin and Mark’s general approving noises as their consent. He has a suspicion Mark is distracted by the muted trailer for Close Encounters that’s playing out on Netflix right now anyway.

This, of course, leaves everyone but Jeno staring at Renjun. He’s swinging his legs from the cabinet in the corner, shoulders a little tense, but his expression is open.

“I’m okay with it,” Renjun says. “With a few conditions.”

Jisung swallows. “What would they be?”

Renjun holds up a hand, counting on his fingers. “You should let us know when guests are coming and how long they’re staying, so that we can be prepared. No one weird, I don’t want to see anything freaky in here, so please try and check who they are before you let them in. And if you could give us at least a day or so on our own between guests, I would really appreciate it.” His shoulders tighten more as he talks, and he shrinks back slightly before he continues. “And if you could come back and visit us between each guest, I think that would be nice.”

“Aww, Renjun-ie!” Jaemin exclaims, standing in one swift movement to lean over the cabinet and pinch Renjun’s cheek. “You care so much! Don’t try and deny it! You’re going to miss these two!”

“Of course I’ll be here!” Jisung says, grinning despite the scowl on Renjun’s face. “I’ll come back between every guest to check the place is okay, and to bring you guys your toys and your books and hang out with you and everything. You’re my friends, so you’ll see me loads!”

“That’s right!” Mark says, punching the air. “Dude, things are about to be so much better around here now that we’ll be having regular visitors. Maybe I’ll get to try out different game consoles when they’re asleep. I’m getting better at playing Kart Rider, you know.”

“Um, yes,” Jisung says. “Only a little haunting though, remember.”

“Don’t worry,” Mark says, winking at him. “I’m the most subtle ghost you’ve ever met.”

“What’s the verdict?” Jeno asks, watching Jisung patiently.

“It’s a yes, we’re good to go! We have the ghost approval!”

“Nice one!” They high five, and Jisung can’t stop himself from grinning. After everything they’ve fought about between them, this compromise feels almost too good to be true. For this beautiful second, everything in his life is aligned.

“But if you’re moving out, does that mean you’ve found your own place to stay?” Renjun asks, batting Jaemin away. “You’re going to school?”

“I’m in the process of applying for school, so hopefully I’ll get to start by the end of the year. I’m actually moving in with Jeno, at his apartment in the city.”

“Oh!” Chenle exclaims, beaming. “So you told him about your feelings!”

The whole room freezes, and Jisung rips his arm away from Chenle’s grip, but the damage is already done. Chenle’s voice is very hard to miss. He daren’t look Jeno in the face as he feels everything in his life spin out of control again, because nothing can go right for him for even five seconds.

“Oh, Chenle,” Mark says, glancing between the two of them nervously. “That’s not what that means, these days.”

“What are you talking about? They’re moving in together permanently, and they’re not family, so—”

“Feelings?” Jeno says, voice small. “What is he talking about?”

Jisung looks down at his lap, twisting his hands together. “Nothing,” he says quickly. “Can we just pretend he didn’t say that?” He looks around at the ghosts for help, but they’re all just looking back at him, watching the scene unfolding. “Can one of you quickly gain a mind wipe power?”

“Jisung,” Jeno says, putting a hand on his knee. He pushes himself up from where he’d been kneeling on the floor to sit beside Jisung on the couch. “It’s okay. You can be honest with me. Anytime.”

He raises his eyes to meet Jeno’s, warm and smiling and completely trustworthy. As always. “You didn’t believe me for weeks when I told you this place was haunted.”

“And look at me now,” Jeno says, gesturing to the room. “About to watch a movie with you and our ghost buddies. Besides, I think most things worth being honest about are more believable than that.”

He looks back down at his hands. “I’m not sure you really want to know this one.”

Chenle is about to burst out with something, but Jaemin quickly covers his mouth so he doesn’t speak over Jeno. Jeno leans further forward, trying to put himself into Jisung’s line of sight. Jisung wipes sweaty palms on his jeans, avoiding his gaze.

“I do,” Jeno says. “I want to know if you want to kiss me back.”

Jisung jerks his head up at that, eyes somehow finding Jeno’s mouth first on his face. He’s smiling, cute as ever, and looking Jisung directly in the eye, so he must know where he’s looking.

“Oh,” Jisung says faintly. “I do.”

“Then you should,” Jeno says, soft, right before leaning in to peck Jisung on the lips.

It’s so quick and light that he doesn’t even register it until Jeno is leaning away again, looking at the floor himself this time. Still, Jaemin and Chenle erupt into screams, clutching each other, Jaemin shaking Chenle by the breastplate of his armour. Jisung’s hands tense into fists, his mind positively screaming at this development, a surge of something warm and giddy in his chest. His lips are tingling slightly. Jeno just kissed him.

“Dude, congrats!” Mark is saying, and Renjun is still sat on the cabinet, eyes shining as he looks between them. Donghyuck, sitting on the floor, looks positively dazed.

“Oh, wow,” he says. “Do you think he’s giving more of those out?”

“Was that—am I—” Jeno starts, glancing up at Jisung again.

“Yeah,” Jisung gushes, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Yeah. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Okay,” Jeno says, sitting back against the chair like all his energy is drained from that little peck. “Shall we—um—”

“At yours,” Jisung says. “In private.”

“Okay,” Jeno agrees quickly.

“Jisung!” Jaemin exclaims, scandalised. “You’re both babies!”

“Talk!” Jisung says, immediately turning red. “We’re going to talk about this in private!”

“And probably kiss a bit more than that,” Renjun remarks, slipping down from his cabinet. “You know, with the passion of all your years of friendship.”

“Please shut up, Hyung, you’ve been watching too many romance movies,” Jisung says, slumping back into the couch too, hoping the cushions will swallow him whole.

“Good reception?” Jeno asks, only able to look at Jisung for a second before he glances down again, wide smile on his face. Is he blushing?

“They’ve been wanting that to happen for a while,” he admits, wriggling nervously as Chenle reaches out to grab him again, then leans over him to talk to Jeno.

“He’s been besotted with you for ages, I don’t know how you didn’t notice. We all realised it from the minute you two arrived here.”

Jisung swipes through him. “I don’t want to hear another word from you until the end of this movie!”

“Well,” Jeno says, making him pause. His fingertips touch the back of Jisung’s free hand carefully, and Jisung turns his hand over to encourage him to grasp it, like he’s one of the ghosts looking to be seen. “I was hoping, but it was hard to know. I didn’t want to presume anything.”

“Oh,” Jaemin says, clutching his chest and sniffling. “This is too much for my heart. The babies have found love!”

“Really?” Jisung asks, squeezing Jeno’s hand in his.

“Yeah,” Jeno smiles. “Yeah, I really was.”

“Oh, Jeno! He’s a romantic after all!” Donghyuck throws himself onto Jeno’s back, and Jeno shivers at the touch.

“Are we doing hugs?” he asks, adept at noticing Donghyuck’s influence by now.

“Hugs!” Chenle exclaims, throwing himself onto Jisung in a similar fashion. Mark comes in to put an arm around both their shoulders, and Jaemin drags Renjun to Chenle’s side before sitting himself in Jisung’s lap.

“Apparently!” Jisung replies, reaching out for Renjun in one of his rare tactile moments.

“I’m so glad you came, Jisung,” Chenle says, muffled into his shoulder. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Aww,” Jeno coos, reaching out for Chenle. It makes Chenle look up with a cheeky smile, reaching out to touch his hand in return. “You guys are so cute.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Donghyuck says, and Jisung is about to repeat it for Jeno’s sake, but then Donghyuck looks up at him instead. “You’ve made this place so much better.”

“Oh,” he says, slightly taken aback, but pleased with the compliment. “Thanks. You guys made this place better too, you know. The house definitely became an adventure with you guys here every day.”

“It’s generous of you to call us an adventure instead of a nightmare,” Mark says, the first to leave their hug as he stands and reaches for the TV remote.

“Excuse you, I’m a delight,” Renjun says, taking the opportunity to stand with him, knocking a cushion off the couch as he does.

“You are easily the least delightful of all of us,” Donghyuck says.

Renjun points at him. “You’re eternally indebted to me, remember. Watch your words.”

“Certainly, oh delightful one!”

“Can we watch this movie now?” Mark says, practically hopping in place. “I’m dying to see it again.”

“Think you already did that 22 years ago,” Chenle points out.

“Ha, ha,” Mark says, deadpan. “You know what I mean.”

Jisung looks back at Jeno, who’s already looking his way with a smile on his face. “Ready to put the movie on?”

“Sure,” Jeno says, still smiling as he picks up his bowl of kimchi jjigae. “Yeah. Great.”

Jisung can’t help his own giddy smile either, stubbornly stuck to his cheeks as he goes for his own bowl.

“Let’s do it,” he agrees, settling back into the couch with Jeno’s warmth at one side, Chenle’s bouncing excitement on the other, Jaemin sitting on the floor beside his legs. Renjun perches on the arm of the sofa, Donghyuck sits on Jeno’s other side, and Mark presses play in front of them.

It feels like home.