Chapter Text
The night Mingi died was the same day he was reborn, though he’d been thrusted into a different place, a different body and, well, an entirely different existence.
For once, his body felt light, like a free bubble floating about in the atmosphere. There were no IV drips, no tubes. He wasn’t hooked up to any machines that served as a separate organ for his body needed. He felt so magnificently light and free.
The other thing he noticed was, well, it had been midday where he was when his soul detached itself from his now empty vessel. Right now, he was completely enshrouded in darkness. For a second, he thinks that this must be where souls return to when their bodies can no longer keep them alive. He read somewhere that before a person is even born, their soul spends several years preparing for Earth in some unknown gap up above, or he might have mixed it up a Pixar movie they put on in the kids activity room. Lol.
His momentary silence is stolen from him when he hears a soft whimpering, the sound so utterly small and muffled he immediately feels rattled to the bone. A small dread of pain spreading through his chest.
It couldn’t be possible, though. This was the afterlife, wasn’t it? Why is there pain in the afterlife? It was much more painful when he was alive, sure, but he thought that once he died, there would be no more of that.
He shifts— or floats? he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing— closer to the sound, manoeuvring through the darkness. Slowly, moonlight filters into his vision, rinsing down onto a kid-sized bed like a waterfall in the middle of the darkness.
The moonlight paints the outline of a small figure in bed, curled up and trembling beneath a duvet.
A boy.
Mingi watches in stupor, confusion sitting in his chest when, in a blink of an eye, he finds himself sitting cross-legged at the foot of this boy’s bed. He waited a while, a little lost at what he’s doing in this boy’s bedroom, but then he realises there’s no point in waiting for answers to fall on him when he doesn’t even know who exactly put him there in the first place.
Though, of all the questions he could’ve asked, the one he went with was, “Hey, why are you crying?”
The crying momentarily stops before the duvet lowers slowly, revealing a small head peeping out from underneath. The boy’s eyes were ridiculously round, tears filling them like a flimsy shield. He’s pulled the duvet up to his chin, where his lips quiver and tremble like the rest of his body does. The boy has clearly been crying for a while now, a mix of tears and sweat sticking to his face like a second skin. Mingi almost wants to wipe them with his sleeves.
His name is Yeosang.
“a-are... a-are the m-monst-ers g-gone n-now?” Yeosang’s voice trembles lightly.
“Monsters? There’s no monsters. It’s just me.”
Yeosang watches him carefully. “a-and who a-are y-you?”
“Well, for starters, I’m no monster,” Mingi smiles. “I’m Mingi.”
Mingi learns a lot about Kang Yeosang.
Like how the boy is petrified of the dark. The night they first met was a testament to that. Yeosang had been shaken to the core because of the silhouettes dancing in the shadows, crawling towards the edge of his bed. It took many nights of convincing that it had just been tree branches by his windowsill eluded by the moonlight. It’s alright though, because on those nights, Mingi would keep him company, holding his hand until he feels safe from his fears and falls asleep.
Mingi also learns that his parents don’t really give a shit about him. What kind of parent would leave their six-year-old crying by himself into sleepless nights? Ignore his fears and tell him he should just ‘grow up’? He remembers when he was still alive, his mother would cradle him whenever doctors show up with those terrifying needles for another round of blood tests. At the very least, Mingi will pour every ounce of comfort and safety he’s ever received into making sure that Yeosang feels the same way.
In the time that they’ve spent together, Mingi also learns a lot about himself.
Like how he’s in every way the same human he was before, only without the cancer wrecking his body. More than that, he’s much faster, stronger and more agile than the both of them thought should be remotely possible for someone in a six-year-old’s body. Arm wrestling is out of bounds now because of Mingi’s abnormal strength — and because Yeosang is a sore loser of course. He could also go days without sleep or the need to eat, but he lets Yeosang tug him into bed and shove pocky sticks down his throat anyways.
He also learns that his whole existence basically orbits around Yeosang, yet he can never seem to follow the boy any further than his room. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, but his feet just won’t let him.
“Whaaaaat? But the playground’s just down the streeeeeet.”
“I’m sorry, Sangie.” He can’t give him any more than a pained smile and a distraction from his flawed… existence. He still doesn’t know what he is.
But whatever he is, he has this weird ability to feel Yeosang’s emotions. He’s only put the pieces together himself whenever Yeosang would start to feel distressed or upset. The pain didn’t belong to him, but the living boy’s emotions. Whenever he starts to feel the anchor in his chest sinking, he’s already by Yeosang’s side doing all that he can to make him feel better. Sometimes, an hour long pirate duel between them would do the trick or sometimes, Mingi would come up with interestingly absurd stories to put his heart at ease.
It makes him feel good. For once, he wasn’t the problem, but the cure.
Mingi never tells Yeosang about his past life; about the boy who spent too many days imprisoned by white walls and greeted by the fresh smell of lemon steriliser and a string of doctors who showered him with false hope when he wakes up. He doesn’t want to be the reason Yeosang gets upset, because he’s quickly discovered that he really, really, really loves making Yeosang laugh.
Ever since Yeosang has entered school, he’s had a lot of trouble making friends. Despite his ability to talk Mingi’s ear off for hours on end, Yeosang is a pretty introverted child. He likes to keep to himself a lot, which for some reason, is apparently a big deal to others. Mingi had heard his parents scold him too many times for not being an active participant in class nor does he put in any effort into making friends. When he asked Yeosang about this, the latter just shrugs, telling him that he won’t waste his breath on kids who think Pokémon is the best anime they’ve ever seen. That was the end of that conversation.
It’s not that Mingi minds it either. If Yeosang doesn’t want to socialise, then that’s his decision. Besides, the greedier part of him is thrilled that the boy chooses to spend a lot of time at home with him. Though his guilty conscience reminds him that, unlike him, Yeosang is still a living boy who needs to be around other living boys like him. He quickly files that thought away, though.
A lot has changed since they first met at the fresh age of five. Now that they’re ten — apparently, being an undead soul doesn’t stop Mingi from ageing — they’ve swapped cardboard swords for console games. With the PS5 Yeosang’s uncle had gifted him for his birthday, Yeosang taught him how to play Minecraft and they’d spend hours building their dream house, starting their own farm and raising a pig army to fight abnormally sized spiders. Sometimes, Yeosang would get annoyed when Mingi gets lost in some cave they've ventured too far into, but it’s a personal secret that he only does it because Yeosang would rest his hand on top of his to guide him through the caves.
By the time they were twelve, things were rapidly changing. Yeosang was in sixth grade — graduation year. Soon, he’ll be off to join the big kids in high school. From the stacks of storybooks Yeosang hands him to keep him busy while he’s at school, Mingi has read all about high school life. It’s where the crazy shit happens.
While Mingi dreams of what it would’ve been like to be a high school student, getting his own standing locker and stressing over pop quizzes, Yeosang, on the other hand, isn’t particularly thrilled.
“Shouldn’t there be a law or something for kids who are too good for school? If it’s our right to education, then how come we don’t get to decide whether we should to go to school or not?” Yeosang groans for the millionth time into his pillow. Much like everything else in his room, his kid-sized bed has been replaced with a bigger one, though it would still feel pretty cramped with the two of them squeezing against each other to sleep at night.
“It’s high school though! Everything happens in high school! Aren’t you curious about that?” Mingi has stars in his eyes. He’d been rolling like a sardine at the foot of the bed just imagining of all the things high school kids do.
“Really? Like what?”
“Like what?" Mingi scoffs incredulously. This boy has not lived. Well, Mingi hasn’t either, but at least Yeosang still has the chance to. “You can do so many things in high school! Like joining clubs? You like cooking, don’t you?”
“I like eating. There’s a difference.”
“Cafeterias? I read that they’re much bigger than the ones in middle school! More variety!”
“I heard that they taste like shit. I’ve tried my mother’s cooking. I’ve experienced enough.”
“School events? You can’t tell me you’re not the least bit excited those?” Mingi’s almost exasperated now. There’s just so many things to experience. Why is Yeosang not getting it? “Dates? Proms? Kisses?”
Yeosang shoots himself from his position. Slowly, he inches towards the other, hovering just above Mingi’s line of vision. He's so close, the latter can't help but to scan every little detail of his face. From the way Yeosang's eyebrows knit together to his lips pouting for a split second, a little habit he does when he’s intrigued. His eyes focuses on Mingi’s and suddenly, all the dreamy fantasies he had before is drowned out by the way Yeosang looks at him.
Before he can muster a single thought, Yeosang lowers his head and leans in, resting his lips against his own. Mingi stops breathing. Not that he needs to but Yeosang has actually taken his breath away. He literally cannot breathe right now. None of those fiction books has ever prepared Mingi for this. For having your first kiss stolen by your ultimate crush and sending your mind into total oblivion. If he was alive again, he may have to accept that his soul has ascended to the heavens.
When Yeosang pulls away, he smiles innocently, as if he hadn’t just sent Mingi into a paralytic shock. “There. Not so curious anymore.”
He says nothing more than that, turning away and flopping himself back into bed. He goes on to talk about something Mingi doesn’t register because his mind is still floating somewhere above the clouds.
But when he manages to pick up the fragments of his thoughts, a dreaded feeling builds in his chest. This time, it’s an emotion of his own. Mingi realises two things.
One, is that Yeosang has just gifted him with an out-of-body experience he'll probably never get to experience ever again.
Two, is that Mingi is now terrified of Yeosang starting high school. Because high school is where everything happens. High school is when people start to grow up and leave their childhood behind them.
And if Yeosang grows up, then what will happen to him?