Archive of Our Own

October 27th

4:32 pm

This return date was five years ago, what the hell. Is there even a fee that covers that? Alumni Cost or-

“There’s some people going to the farmhouse on Friday.”

Seungkwan hummed, paying attention to only as much as Hansol offered him. 

He was in the process of trying to catalogue overdue chemistry textbooks from college students. College students who apparently consider everything but library book returns to have a solid due date. He was working, not in the headspace to dive into the deeper invisible meaning or question in Hansol’s words at the moment. And his best friend knew that, he had been tagging along to Seungkwan’s late night library hours for the entire semester. He wouldn’t expect Seungkwan to be able to give more than this, so the reason he was bringing this topic up was probably because it was meaningless anyways.

“You know. The, uhm, abandoned one.”

Yes, he knew. He didn’t need to think very hard about which farmhouse Hansol was talking about at all. They both currently attended a university in the middle of a city and any rural areas where a farmhouse could ever possibly be located would be just west off of the highway. It wasn’t a popular spot by any means, or at least not anymore, but it had an infamous reputation. Infamous in that anyone who trespassed had a 100% success rate of getting caught by the police. 

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow, not looking up from the inside cover of the textbook in hand, but knowing Hansol would see it and know to continue.

The rumor was that the reason the cops were so obsessed with catching trespassers was because of the dark, mysterious history of the building. However, the real - “Boring,” courtesy of his best friend - reason was because it was literally directly off the side of the highway, where there was a perfect hidden cove to catch speed limit breakers. And if the police happened to catch a couple of college students along the way, then all the better for them or whatever. 

“And so,” 

This isn’t the first time Hansol’s brought up the building. The story behind it and the just general ominousness of it is pretty interesting, Seungkwan will admit. Freshman year, when Seungkwan first got this library job, he and Hansol had actually spent an entire night researching it; Seungkwan finding out quickly back then that Hansol and a promise of free coffee in the morning was a rather effective temptation. So, he led Hansol to the history section, each pulling whatever local history books the university offered from the shelves, and just totally went to town on the place. Had even brought out one of those rolling whiteboards to connect their findings. 

By the end of their all-nighter, they discovered that the last time anyone had lived in the farmhouse was back in 1952. It was a family of 6, and at first to the pair’s disappointment - “Hansol, you can’t say you’re disappointed a family didn’t go through a tragedy oh my god.” - they couldn’t find anything that would help them understand the house any better. Not until Seungkwan opened a collection of dated newspapers at probably like 3:30am, finding a column from 1972 about possible bones being found in the lowest level of the house when renovators were trying to add a boiler there. 

“It’s haunted.” Hansol’s gasp echoed in the empty library. 

Seungkwan ‘shh’ed him, and after a beat Hansol’s lips went from an open gape to a teasing smirk. Probably about to add to his running joke that Seungkwan was totally becoming a stereotypical librarian. So, before the other could start, he said, “They lived on a farm, it was probably animal bones.” Needing to provide some sort of logic, or be a devil’s advocate, or something.

“Right, animal bones.” Either way, it didn’t persuade Hansol: “Buried in their basement.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes then and wrote ‘bones 1972’ on their whiteboard. Connecting it with a line to the circle including information about the family’s departure from the house. 

They had spent a lot of the rest of the night trying to find any more information on that seemingly very important finding, yet there was nothing. Maybe it was just animal bones, maybe they were human bones with just no investigation done about it, maybe there was a cover-up at play, maybe they weren’t bones at all. He and Hansol had thrown around a lot of ideas, but none with any substantial evidence. And the next connecting line they were actually able to add to white board was years later: the first supposed haunting in 1993. 

“I was wondering...”

That indicated he wanted Seungkwan’s full attention, so he pushed his hatred for the world’s bright new batch of chemists aside, crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair a bit, ready to hear whatever was next. Hansol wasn’t looking at him now though. Instead he was diagonal to him, aimlessly sifting through book’s on the YA category shelf: pulling one out, reading the title, and then pushing it back in perfectly. 

But by continuing to watch him, Seungkwan was able to catch the way the other’s eye did a quick glance back at him, his body still almost completely turned away as he finished his thought. He totally looked like a kid, it was cute. Trailing off at the end, “if you wanted to come with me…”

Seungkwan’s eyebrows raised without him needing to tell them to, and the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk that was only a smirk because it was generously not a laugh. 

Hansol groaned, forgoing the teen romance novels, “Stop,” he was whining now, too. Dragging the word on and throwing his head back because he knew exactly what Seungkwan’s face meant, “Stop looking at me like that, I know. It’s just we’re seniors, and I know you don’t have other Halloween plans -”

“Hey…”

“I don’t have any either. And I don’t know, maybe it could be fun.”

Hansol had made his way back to Seungkwan’s desk, where his own usual seating arrangement at the computer desk was. 

Seungkwan had been turning his body and chair around to remain on him during his walk over, so when the other plopped down, they were facing each other still. Hansol straddled backwards on the chair, resting his chin on the backboard; Seungkwan with crossed legs and arms, studying him and the thick pout he used when he wanted Seungkwan defenseless. 

“Having to call your mom in Florida from a county jail cell in the middle of the night is fun.” 

“That’s the thing,” Hansol smiled wide like he was proud of figuring that detail out already, “the group, you know some of them, they’ve done this before apparently. Misdemeanor free and everything.”

“Hansol…”

“I’m always cool with just spending the night watching a movie or something,” Which was what Seungkwan had sort of just been expecting his Halloween plans to be. It was typical on Halloween for them to just hang out at either Hansol or Seungkwan’s place sharing a bag of whatever variety pack of candy Hansol picked up at the grocery store he worked at, watching movies all night long, and just staying over until morning. Neither of them were really the type to hit up a bunch of random apartments for Halloween weekend like a lot of their mutual friends tended to do, instead just choosing to do things at home. And this worked out because whoever’s place they were at that year would just become homebase for their friends to stay after their night out. One by one, people coming over to partake in the movie marathon and then passing out scattered over the floor while Hansol and Seungkwan got the couch. “But the farmhouse, I’ve always kinda thought of it as our thing you know?”

The playfulness of the pout turned into something else.

Seungkwan sighed.

“If you get possessed by a ghost, I’m never letting you over to see Sandy ever again.” 

October 30th

5:21 pm

There was no truth to that statement, Seungkwan thought as he watched Hansol play with his roommate’s old cat, his cat too sort of for the time being, on the living room floor. He’d never be able to separate them, not really. And he honestly didn’t even know what he was going to do when Seungkwan and his roommate finally parted their own ways. Hansol couldn’t get a cat for his own apartment because his own housemates were allergic, so anytime he came over the two were all but inseparable. If Sandy could find a way on top of Hansol’s shoulders to sit and perch, she would. 

Right now she and his best friend were playing on the living room floor, Hansol teasing her with one of her own toys while she foolishly fell for his every movement, and Seungkwan was in the conjoined kitchen, packing them both a turkey lettuce wrap and small snack for later, filling up a water bottle each and stuffing everything in Hansol’s backpack. 

Taking a break from putting each wrap in a paper baggie, he opened his phone and checked the weather forecast. 8:00PM: clear skies, heavy winds, lowest temperature 10 degrees celsius (50 degrees fahrenheit). They’d need thicker clothes: Seungkwan himself only wearing brown corduroys and a vintage sweatshirt from his alma mater. Hansol in old, ripped jeans and a black tee. It’s what they both wore to class. Hansol’s last one was a lecture that ended at 5, so he just came over afterwards where they could start getting ready. 

“How we lookin’?” 

Seungkwan glanced up from his phone to the direction of the voice. 

Hansol stood with his palms weighted down on the dining table that stood as a sort of kitchen island, a real one too fancy for their $800-a-month apartment, watching Seungkwan from behind. Seungkwan looked back at him for a second, acknowledging him, then scanned the floor for a second afterward to find Sandy happily playing alone in the living room. 

He took a breath of a pause, glanced back at Hansol and his soft smile, then looked back down at the backpack to finish putting the granola bars in the side pockets: blueberry for him, chocolate for Hansol. 

“Good, good.” He responded, nodding to himself and mentally check-marking their to-do list for the night, “We should stop by your place to pick up two flashlights and a jacket for you. Then we should be good to go.” 

After he finished, he zipped the backpack, patted it, and then looked up at Hansol again, mirroring the other’s smile in a faint one of his own. 

October 30th

5:51 pm

Hansol’s place was a townhouse, bigger and more expensive than his apartment. But only because there were 4 guys in total living here rather than just Seungkwan and his own roommate. 

Their addresses were about 10 minutes away from each other, which was hard to get used to at first; they had lived on the same dorm floor for two years in a row: the first a coincidence, the second by choice. 

Their third year, well. 

They had two years worth of knowing each other inside the bounds of being floor mates and best friends, and when the opportunity to add roommates to that list of titles they had for each other came about, they just didn’t end up taking it. Honestly, they hadn’t really even talked about the possibility of living together then, only after they solidified their separate housing agreements did the weight of the change wash over them. Seungkwan knew now that he had just been scared, but the routine of it stuck for another year anyway. 

But that isn’t to say they hadn’t completely warmed up to the idea now, having taken an hour two weeks ago to discuss their living plans after graduation. Neither of their career fields would require them to move out of the city, and so Hansol brought up the idea of Seungkwan just moving into the townhouse after April, all his roommates would be scattered across the country by then. It’d be costly at first and was still just an idea floating in the air, but every time Seungkwan thought about it, the pit in the bottom of his stomach he had felt during third year was definitely more excited than anything else.

So he knew the townhouse well and spent multiple days a week here whenever they both had off. 

“I think this one’s batteries are low.” 

Hansol walked back to the sofa from the narrow hallway that held the utilities closet. He was hitting the flashlight head on his palm, but it just kept weakly flickering on and off, ending on a dim glow when he stopped. It was a short-lived success, though, dying completely only ten seconds after that.

Seungkwan chuckled, watching Hansol shift the two jackets he was holding into the crease of his other arm so that he could twist the bottom of the flashlight and empty the dead batteries into his hand, “Do you have any more?” 

“Yeah. Here,” He passed the hollow flashlight and the jean jacket in his arm to Seungkwan, keeping the other article of clothing he was holding, a black hoodie, for himself, “Just gimme a sec.” Then hurried, though they still had plenty of time, back toward the hallway. 

October 30th

6:43 pm

The plan was to meet the group at 7:00 pm by the broken garage door of the university parking lot. There, everyone would shuffle into two cars which would drive off the first highway exit to a 24 hour truck rest stop, park, go to the bathroom if they needed to, and then move on foot to the farmhouse. 

Hansol’s place was close to campus, so after he refilled the flashlight with new batteries and made sure it worked by shining it on the wall across from the sofa and then throwing a peace sign up in front of the glass head, they decided to just walk over to the lot instead of taking the bus. 

The two of them had arrived a quarter till the meet-up time, and Seungkwan had realized that even with the extra layering of the large jean jacket, his hands were still unprotected against the cold. Hansol’s, too, it seemed with the way he could see out of the corner of his eye him shaking them as if to get the circulation going again. There was a bench off to the side of the door where Seungkwan stopped and told Hansol to turn around so he could grab the two pairs of gloves he had thrown in there earlier. 

They were a cheap, fuzzy, one-size-fits-all kind of glove that he didn’t even remember buying, probably just throwing in his shopping basket one day at the store. He handed one pair to Hansol, who said thanks in a breath that was seen in the cold air, then slid matching ones on his own hands. 

Seungkwan sat on the bench, dusting it off a bit at the place where he was going to sit, while Hansol hopped up on the elevated curbside. His best friend launched a story about his seminar discussion earlier, and Seungkwan listened, his own words floating in and out of the conversation, passive to active, unsolicited and solicited, eyes trained down where the other moved one foot at a time in front of the other like on a balance beam. 

October 30th

7:24 pm

Hansol was right, Seungkwan did know some of the group members. If only from tagging along to a ‘hang-out’ function with his best friend or in passing at Hansol’s townhouse, them leaving while he arrived. The other’s he knows from instagram pictures and whatnot, but he greeted them all the same: they were Hansol’s friends and he was Hansol’s friend as well.

It was quick sorting out the car situation. One girl already had her car sitting in the lot, apparently she was the one who decided on this part of the plan, and Hansol was the only other one who brought his license. 

Seungkwan appreciated their line of reasoning that if they were going to get caught, at least it wouldn’t be for some as silly as driving without a license.

One of the guys, who was wearing black ripped shorts that reached his knee and a graphic t-shirt with a teddy bear on it, gave Hansol his keys, warned Hansol not to scratch his car, and then went hand-in-hand with another girl running to the 1st car. The 2nd car’s riders were Hansol, him, and two others, Seungkwan climbing into the passenger’s seat to no one’s objection. 

It wasn’t a long drive, just off of the highway exit, so they would be there in another 5 minutes, the navigation that Seungkwan’s screen said. His phone was open on his lap as he helped Hansol with directions: the center console was pretty ancient and it could only be used for the radio, which Hansol had turned on to some frequency playing classic rock that everyone was cool with. 

“You’re gonna want to change lanes up here.” 

Hansol nodded his head and easily pushed down on the left turn signal with his ring and pinky fingers, then through a hand behind Seungkwan’s head rest when he saw an opening, looking back over his shoulder, and shifted lanes. Seungkwan had been watching him, so they made passing eye contact with each other when his head turned back toward the road, both smiling a bit when that happened. 

The car wasn’t quiet. The two people in the back were people he actually had been introduced to before, so they had been making amicable conversation while Hansol had been focused on driving. 

Once his hand went up to Seungkwan’s headrest, though, the conversion paused. Any attempt to talk to the others in the back would be awkward with Hansol’s arm in the way. It was okay, they had reached sort of a lull a minute ago, quieting on its own naturally. But even after safely switching lanes, Hansol hadn’t moved, fist wrapped around the metal pole that connected the head and back seat cushions. So Seungkwan just sunk back in his seat, closed his eyes, and listened to his best friend hum along to the slow guitar melody on the radio, feeling a hand fiddle with his hair for a second, smooth it down, and then go back to its place on the pole.

October 30th

7:47 pm

A trucker’s rest stop was a trucker’s rest stop.

The building was nasty, smelled of mold and the state of the bathrooms was horrendous. The only reason they had stepped inside was because Seungkwan made him and Hansol try to either go now or be super uncomfortable later with poison oak down their backsides later from trying to pee in the woods. 

But now he was considering grabbing Hansol’s hand and getting out of the rest room as quickly as possible: poison oak or a transmitted disease from exposure to bodily fluids apparently were the options.

Some of the other group members had stayed back, deciding to smoke and take their chances with the oak. He, Hansol, and the others who braved the building were indeed quick: no one wanting to spend too much time staring at the choice words sharpied on the wall above the urinal. So the others weren’t waiting too long.

When they were all back outside, the weather felt even colder than before. 

Hansol sat on a plaque, hands in his pockets, legs almost in a 90 degree angle. The plaque was just a little short, though, so one leg was kicked out in front comfortably instead of a perfect right angle. Seungkwan stood facing him with his hands in his own pockets, everyone else in the group making sure they had all their things from the cars. He could hear the sound of a trunk opening and bags being shuffled out, but he didn’t turn to look. The frost hitting his cheek in a constant burst of wind. 

Hansol’s outstretched foot was close enough to keep nudging Seungkwan’s own. Seungkwan's foot playing hard to get, however, whenever his best friend’s converse tied shoe kept trying. At one point Seungkwan had turned his own almost completely to the back, where Hansol, instead of conceding, actually grounded his other foot down so that he could stretch even further so he could hit Seungkwan’s. He ended up accomplishing his goal, so Seungkwan just chuckled and muttered “Not fair” into an escaping puff of air.

The game was over, and they eased in a lapse of silence, just looking at each other across the short distance.

He should have brought scarves, Seungkwan thought, as he watched Hansol hide his lips and chin under the collar of his hoodie. 

October 30th

8:01 pm

The group’s plan to not get caught was to literally just go through the woods, circle around the back, and jump the fence from there rather than come in from the road. 

It wasn’t a good plan, Seungkwan believed strongly, and he let Hansol know his thoughts on Wednesday. 

“They’ve never been caught.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s full-proof!”

...

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you over the fence.”

Seungkwan glared at him then, and he glared at him now as he did just that.  

Hansol’s hand held onto his tightly, grip a little weird from the fuzzy gloves, as Seungkwan placed a foot on the lower rail, held onto the top railing so he could step there next and then hopped off. He was a little wobbly in the landing, but Hansol helped him stabilize. 

“There we go,” He smiled, hand on Seungkwan’s shoulders, not fazed at all by the sharp eyes directed at him. 

Once everyone was over the fence, they had to move quickly. Sprinting, but also kind of tip-toeing toward the house. 

There was not really any time before to get a good look at it, take it in. But now as they were about a half a yard away, fate already set, he finally scanned his eyes over it. 

That was an abandoned farmhouse alright. Splintering wooden architecture. From the glow of the moon, he could see the spots where the white paint was chipping and turning back to the original color of a grey brown wooding. Cracked glass windows with no blinds and a door that was basically just a screen at this point. The chimney was bricked, a bright red in the pictures that Seungkwan remembered from his and Hansol’s research, but that looked black in the night. The back porch was sunken in, the left side missing a post or two, the running trim on the roof out-of-date. 

He felt a burst of air that wasn’t necessarily from the wind wash over him from where he had paused.

Recognizing that he did stop, it was sure that the group was a little ways ahead of him. He shook himself out a little and turned his attention back to the back door where they were planning to enter through, seeing most of them almost at the steps though some were still around his general area. Probably doing as he just did. 

He’ll admit he jumped a little when a hand patted between his shoulder blades. Hands that raised in a surrendering position when Seungkwan ended his gasp and faced them. 

“You were just looking a little spooked there, sorry man. Didn’t mean to make it worse.” The guy said, sounding apologetic enough that Seungkwan tried to school his expression back down.

“It’s okay,” he muttered back, still a bit out of it, and started moving again. The guy matching his footsteps.

“Creepy, right?” He recognized him, Seungkwan thought. He had shaggy black hair and multiple piercings along his ear. Possibly a mutual on instagram from both knowing Hansol.  He was the fourth passenger of the 1st car. There were eight of them total, seven in the friend group and Seungkwan as a plus one. 

It started with a ‘K’, Seungkwan thought, or maybe an ‘M’. He could just ask, he wanted to be associated with Hansol’s other friends. It wasn’t selfish, he just thought it’d be useful knowing this part of Hansol's life. Besides, it had taken the other a while to find a group of people for himself that he really bonded with until last year when he met them, so Seungkwan was in part grateful, too. These are people Hansol really likes and people he feels comfortable around, the least he could do was learn their names. 

Right as he was about to ask, however, there was another figure appearing on his right and an arm wrapping around his shoulder. 

Hansol must’ve noticed he had fallen behind. 

“Hey, Minho.” He addressed the other. 

Seungkwan couldn’t really see his best friend's face, but he could see Minho's as his lips waved in a kind of snicker. 

“Hansol.”

Then the three of them continued the rest of the walk in that formation. 

October 30th

8:59 pm

The group had thrown all their stuff in the center of the living room, having successfully made it into the house without being caught. 

Someone had brought beers and whatever other alcohol they could find in a large duffle bag that was open now, empty cans scattered across the floor. 

The eight of them were in a circle now, going around one by one using the flashlight in Hansol’s backpack to tell scary stories with the light pointed upwards on their chin. Three people were leaning against the frame of the cushionless couch, while Seungkwan was sitting on a blanket, back to the chimney, arms around his legs and chin resting on his knee. Hansol was next to him, legs crossed over each other. His feet were able to touch the alcohol cornucopia, and his arms leaned back, one somewhere splayed out behind Seungkwan. 

“But her dog had been outside the whole time.” The storyteller made a creaky ‘oooo’ sound after she finished and then hiccupped, the entire group falling into a fit of laughter. 

The stories being told were like that, stupid little campfire tales that were only scary when you had a pitch black forest surrounding you while you listened. 

So far the evening had gone paranormal-less. Other than the teddy bear t-shirt guy who claimed he had been scratched by a ghost at some point. Everyone had watched him completely fall on his ass after hopping the fence, though, so people kept teasing him about his ‘phantom scratch’ but not with any kind of real fear behind it. 

Seungkwan took a sip of the beer in his hand, it tasted gross but it was there and it made him think less about the cracked open basement door and more about the heat radiating from his best friend’s body. They weren’t touching, and Seungkwan thought that was wrong so he swayed a bit into the side of his chest, slotting himself into the other. Shoulder resting under the divet of Hansol’s own, and his legs that had been folded now rotated so that his knee laid over the top of the other’s thigh.

The flashlight continued to be passed and soon it was being offered to him. He didn’t really have a story, was just planning on giving it to Hansol when his turn came about, but the girl who was sitting crisscrossed on his best friend's other side leaned in, “Hansol was tellin’ us you guys researched this place and shit. Tell us what you found.”

“Oh, uh.” He tilted back to look at Hansol, placing the back of his head on his collarbones. The other had been looking at him, too, but because of Seungkwan’s hazy mind, he couldn’t really decipher what his eyes meant. But then there was an encouraging raised eyebrow and a smile so Seungkwan turned back to the group. Forgoing the flashlight, “So there was a family who lived here, and they were, you know, the last. But one day they just kind of up and left, no apparent reasoning, not telling anyone. It would’ve been like they disappeared if not for the daughter traveling back here to actually donate a bench to the University in her family’s name,” He had trailed off, “But, uh, anyways so then a couple years later there’s these guys were  trying to renovate the farmhouse and they ended up finding what seemed like bones buried in the basement.”

“Oh my god.” One of the girls on the couch gasped, making him take a look around at the group. He had thought they’d be bored by now, but they all looked pretty invested actually. 

“Bones? I always heard that this place was haunted by the ghost of a man who hung himself in the master bedroom.”

“Nah, dude. Everyone I’ve ever talked to says it was a witch who cursed the place.”

“No one else has heard of the Farmhouse Scarecrow Ghost? No? Okay…”

“Well,” They all turned to face him again instead of bantering, “it was never investigated, so it really might have been nothing.” 

Everyone was silent after he said that, so he just quickly passed the flashlight to Hansol, who took it wordlessly and pressed the head against his opposite thigh.

“Never been investigated, huh.” 

It was Minho who spoke from across the room. He had been sitting with an arm lazily thrown across the seat of the living room’s rocking chair, a permanent smirk stuck on his lips. 

“What do you guys say we do a little investigating of our own tonight?”

October 30th

11:01 pm

Everyone had enthusiastically agreed, first wanting to finish a couple more drinks and just chill for a while and then go explore the house.

About five minutes ago after one of the guys who Seungkwan remembered joining them in the rest stop announced he had to go to the bathroom again. So after some groaning from the girls, which Seungkwan totally felt himself agreeing with, they all decided that they’d start investigating after the small group of guys that left for the nearest bush out back returned.

Once they left, it was just Hansol, Seungkwan and the two girls. 

At some point while just talking in the circle, Seungkwan had hiked his knee up higher on Hansol’s thigh, Hansol grabbing the other one with his empty hand and bringing it up with the other so that he was practically in his lap. Once his head had landed on the collarbone, there was no moving it either. And Hansol’s right hand, which had been propping him - them - up, moved to curl around Seungkwan’s twisted back, using each other as balancing weights instead of the floor. 

That’s how they had been a second ago too, until Hansol patted his waist from around the back and Seungkwan swung his legs back to the floor. His best friend crouched to stand up, offering a hand to Seungkwan so he could get up too. 

“Where’s your backpack?” 

“Oh, uh, it should be over there. In the corner, I think.” Hansol responded pointing in the general vicinity of a super dark corner behind the rocking chair.

Seungkwan followed the path of his fingertip and just stood there for a second, then groaned and grabbed the other’s wrist, tugging him along: “Of course you threw it into the creepiest corner of the entire room.” 

Hansol laughed then Seungkwan felt him bend his wrist, twist it, then take Seungkwan’s fingers and interlace them with his, letting himself be dragged.

“We should eat something before,” Seungkwan told him once they reached the backpack. The darkness of the corner didn’t feel so ominous once surrounded by it. 

They had already eaten the sandwiches earlier, back when they were still waiting for everyone to arrive at the garage, so he just pulled out the two granola bars and handed Hansol his. 

Seungkwan kept rifling through the bag with one hand, blueberry bar semi-opened between his teeth. He sorted through Hansol’s loose homework sheets and notebooks until he found the pack of gum that he knew would be in there. Opening the casing and sliding out two pieces-

“Are you scared?”

He looked up at Hansol who was taller than him and had to gaze down at him whereas Seungkwan was always looking up. In the darkness, his eyes were shining like a glow-in-the-dark sticker. His hair swept over the pair of eyes in brown curls, the wind did that to his bangs, it alway made his most expressive feature disappear. Hansol was finished with his bar already, subconsciously crumpling the folded wrapper in his hand that hung down to his mid-thigh. 

As much as he tried to deny this farmhouse being haunted, Seungkwan wasn’t a skeptic. He liked to be reasonable - were they human remains or not - but what comes after that, it would be more illogical to try and say for sure that they don’t exist. 

Seungkwan was about to respond when the two girls came stumbling in the corner. 

“We should stick together,” The one with dyed blonde hair said, “us four.” 

The other girl, who was a couple heads taller than the other, was nodding her head. Their arms were locked together, but with the free hand, she made a little circular motion between the four of them. It was obviously a brilliant idea to them, in whatever drunken state they were in. So Seungkwan took a quick look toward his best friend and ended up agreeing.

“That sounds good. Doesn’t it, Hansol?”  

His best friend didn’t answer right away, was still looking down at him, possibly searching for something. Seungkwan didn’t know if he found it, but the other’s thinking-frown lessened and agreed as well.

October 30th

11:48 pm

The girls were over by the vanity, commenting on how aesthetic the detailing on the mirror frame was, while Seungkwan was standing with his arms crossed in the center of the room scanning the peeling pink wallpaper. Hansol had said he wanted to check out behind the wardrobe, but maybe he discarded that idea because right now he was moving a hand across the faded squares in the wallpaper where it’s clear a photograph used to hang. 

“They only had one daughter,” Seungkwan said to open space. That’s, at least, who’s room he guessed the four of them were standing in. 

“She got her own room, while her three brothers had to share?” The blonde girl said, “Totally not fair.” 

Seungkwan didn’t know whether it was more about fairness or the fact that she was the only girl and this was the 1950s, but he could see what she meant. The bedroom had to be one of the biggest they had been in so far. At first they weren’t even going to come up here, it seemed too risky with the declining state of the house infrastructure as it was, but the one girl said that she’d been up here before and that it was okay, so they just took her word for it. Not that they weren’t being safe, of course, trying to move as little as possible in very light steps, which earned Hansol a slap on the arm after he marched right up the stairs without worrying about it giving out below him. He was being extra careful now, though. 

“Kinda spoiled if you ask me,” the taller one said jokingly while moving a hand across the woodwork on the vanity. 

That’s when the door slammed shut. 

October 30th

11:52 pm

The girls screamed and grabbed each other’s arms like magnets.

The last noise out of Seungkwan’s mouth was a gasp. His last movement was his shoulders shrugging up at the loud slam of the old door. Now, he couldn’t move at all from where his fingertips squeezed into the denim of Hansol’s oversized jacket. 

His best friend, who had been way too far for him to reach for, was staring at the door, head whipping around at the noise. He hadn’t been looking in that direction when it happened, not like how Seungkwan and the girls had been, so he had probably been a little confused at first at what the sound was: eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to study it. 

“Oh my god, that was ghost,” someone said from the vanity, Seungkwan couldn’t tell their voices apart yet, “a fucking poltergeist. Holy shit.” 

She continued to ramble on. 

“Is it because of what I said? Oh my god, is the ghost out to get me now?”

The only real movement Seungkwan could sense was out of the corner of his eye. It was Hansol, who was shuffling slowly, definitely frightened himself, toward the center of the room where Seungkwan stood, glancing between the door and the wall the entire way. 

Once he finally reached Seungkwan, his voice was a low whisper: “The window is cracked in the right corner.”

With Hansol right in front of him, chest blocking the door, Seungkwan was able to find enough power to turn his head to see what he was talking about. 

“Any wind blowing from outside would hit right on the center of the door.” 

He was right, and with how strong the wind was earlier, it would have enough force to slam a door especially with the angle it would enter the room in. 

Seungkwan could feel his shoulders relaxing, nodding once while looking at the window again just to reassure himself, and then a couple times in Hansol’s direction. 

Hansol silently nodded back. 

He knew they were both still on edge, so when someone in the room suggested they go back downstairs, there was no protest wrapping up their third floor investigation. 

October 30th

11:54 pm

The stairs were old. They creaked and cried at a pin’s drop. The railing was weak and unsturdy. It moved and wobbled with the weight that needed to use it, and Seungkwan knew all this. But the recent happening caused him to forget, feeling wobbly himself. 

So while on one of the middle steps, he caught his shoe lace on a loose nail and ended up tripping a bit, grabbing the railing to steady himself, but instead buckling even more toward the side of the steep incline. 

It wasn’t a big deal, he wouldn’t have fallen, but he reached out and pinched the sleeve of Hansol’s hoodie, who had been walking in front of him. Grabbing the fabric and bunching it in his fist so that he was able to hold onto it the rest of the way down: his arm being much steadier than the stairwell railing. 

“You okay?” Seungkwan’s eyes were training on the wood panels below his feet but he could tell Hansol had looked back as much as his neck would allow from his position in front. 

Seungkwan responded by just a single dip of his head at first, but then, because the other’s voice was laced with concern, he added quietly, “Just lost my footing for a second.”

“Okay, be careful.” And then Hansol offered his arm in a less awkward position, bending it so Seungkwan could grip around his bicep instead of twisting his forearm backward by the end of his sleeve. 

October 31st

12:01 am

The group had split in two, Seungkwan, Hansol and the girls upstairs, while the rest went to the basement. They had planned to meet up at midnight back in the living room to switch off locations, but after a couple minutes of them not showing up everyone was starting to get worried again. 

“What if something happened to them. Like that’s my boyfriend,” the one girl said, Seungkwan remembering her run off with him in the parking lot earlier that day, “What if my boyfriend got possessed and is stuck in ghost limbo now.” She looked at him like he would understand the weight of the hypothetical.

He shifted a bit. Ever since coming down the steps, he hadn’t let go of Hansol’s bicep. Instead only using it to swing around to the other’s side where he could clasp his fingers together around muscle as the other leaned against the wall of the living room with his arms crossed and eyes closed. 

The taller girl spoke up, “They’re probably still down there, just lost track of time.” 

Hansol’s eyes were still closed. Seungkwan knew he wasn’t asleep, but maybe he was getting a headache. Luckily, Seungkwan packed painkillers in the backpack, so he loosened his grip to walk the couple steps so he could grab them for him.

But then he felt a hand slide over his, squeezing his fingers and stopping him from unclasping all together. 

“We should go check.” 

October 31st

12:06 am

Seungkwan stared at the basement door. 

He really did not want to go down there. 

When Hansol suggested going to check, Seungkwan had actually gawked at him, expecting he would have said they should just wait a little longer. Not that they should go to the basement, where he knew just as well as Seungkwan what was found buried. 

Student News

1972 October 22

Potential remains discovered in a local farmhouse just outside of university jurisdiction Saturday morning. The farmhouse, which had been the city’s main source for wheat export, was foreclosed and under renovation by State Bank. During the addition of a boiler and heating system, workers dug up two stick-like objects. Upon closer inspection, worker A claimed them to be human bones, but worker B wasn’t as sure. The findings have since been brought forth to county officials, but no further updates have been announced. 

And no one ever heard or thought about it again. But Seungkwan, while staring at the exact door the workers would have seen, the door the murderer would have paused in front of before walking down and burying the body, he couldn’t get his mind to stop thinking about it. 

The fabric on Hansol’s back crinkled with movement, hand raising up to turn the door knob. He and Seungkwan weren’t touching any more. Didn’t have their entire sides pressed up against each other right now. Even though he had been successful holding Seungkwan in place at first, when he made the suggestion to go to the basement, Seungkwan all but ripped himself away from the other. Hansol’s eyes had followed, watching his reaction while his arms dropped to his thighs. He had pushed his hair back, combing through it with his fingers, and Seungkwan was finally able to see his eyebrows again. How they were higher than where they naturally sat. Surprise, possibly. Maybe stressed, too. 

But even though they weren’t holding each other any more, Seungkwan was still close enough to be able to peer over Hansol’s shoulder and watch as his hand shook just slightly before pulling on the handle. 

The door creaked open, one of the girls behind jumped a little at the sound, and then they were all gazing into a dark hole of nothingness. 

There wasn’t any light coming from the basement, not even a phone flashlight, which was what made Seungkwan the most nervous. He was really doubting they were down there at all, but if not there then where the hell could they be? 

They wouldn’t have left, Hansol’s friends weren’t cruel. But the mystery was starting to eat away at Seungkwan’s ability to keep his fingers steady, fumbling on the backpack zipper when Hansol’s voice tore him out of his stupor by asking him to reach into the biggest pocket and grab the second flashlight they brought. 

“Here,” He passed it over Hansol’s shoulder. 

Being able to actually see the furnishing of the ground floor at the base of its stairs didn’t really help, but it was enough for Hansol to take the first step down, so the rest of the group followed along.

Probably from generally less use than the third floor staircase, these ones were thankfully much sturdier. The steps could take a lot more weight and the railing was actually functional, so Seungkwan death gripped it and didn’t care that his knuckles were turning white. 

The closer they got to the bottom, he could feel the growing pound of his heart reach the center of his throat; he tried to swallow it down but it kept bobbing up like a booey. 

Stepping off the stairs, Hansol pointed the light toward where the center of the room was. 

Where, god, someone’s bones were dug up. 

He couldn’t move again, staring. Just staring at the center of the floor. If he looked hard enough he might be able to see the lines where dirt had been filled back in after they were extracted. 

“Seungkwan”

He turned his neck at the sound of his best friend’s soft voice; he was holding out a hand, offering it to Seungkwan on the last step he was standing on. The two girls had been able to slip behind him at some point, so they were on the ground too. It was just him on the stairs, the last step. Hansol in front of him holding out his hand. 

He felt the wide-eyed stare of his eyes, knowing his face looked crazed right now and knowing that it probably looked worse to Hansol who was still standing right in front of him, six inches shorter than usual, eyelids raised rather than hooded nonchalantly. The other still had his palm raised to the ceiling like it would wait there for as long as Seungkwan needed it, so he finally accepted it with the hand that had been gripping the railing, and his best friend helped him down to the floor. 

They moved a couple steps away from the stairs, not near the center, but enough to see more of the room. Hansol’s hand locked firmly in his like their hands were trying to become one. 

They stopped moving then, near a cabinet in the back where work supplies probably once hung.

“Come here.” 

Hansol passed the flashlight to one of the girls so that his hands were free to push Seungkwan’s bangs back. It was soothing, it always was, but it didn’t help the chill that ran down his back. The palm on his temple pushed softly so that his chin tilted up and so he could search Seungkwan’s face more clearly.

Then his best friend moved another arm, the chills stopping to focus on the new pressure right in the dip where his neck meets his shoulder. 

“I don’t think they’re down here,” Seungkwan admitted.

“Me neither.” Hansol agreed now.

The girls piped up the same sentiments, too. Then Hansol took the hand on his shoulder, and, keeping a constant compression, slid it down his arm so Seungkwan could hold onto his ring and pinky fingers.

The four ran back upstairs.  

When they finally made it back to the 1st floor, living room in sight, Hansol, who ended up being the last out of the basement, quickly slammed the door then turned to face them; no one jumped or screamed, the loud noise being more comforting than terrifying this time. 

Then there was screaming.

It started with the assailants, who had been apparently hiding behind the opened door waiting to scare them when they closed it. Then there were the high pitched screams of two girls along with a gasp and a muttered curse.

The screams turned to laughter from the group of guys, then the sound of someone punching someone else in the chest yelling, “Ugh, Minho you are such a dick!” 

But he only heard this, he didn’t see it. 

After the guys jumped out from behind the door, he tripped forward and fell straight into Hansol, who had caught him by the waist. The thump of their chest’s hitting each other made them both winded for a second: him letting out a little gasp, Hansol breathing out the word ‘fuck’. They hadn’t moved, though. Seungkwan with his fingertips pressed against the other’s stomach, left palm completely pressed up further on his shoulder blade. Hansol’s own hands were on his waist, almost motionless, though he could feel the fingers twitch every now and then.

He couldn’t really hear the other voices in the room anymore, drowned out by the ringing in his ears as the rest of the group were lost in their own conversation, moving back toward the living room, not paying attention to him either. Or maybe they were, he wouldn’t know.

Maybe they could see how Seungkwan couldn’t make eye contact with his best friend suddenly: staring straight forward at the other’s nose rather than up at his eyes. Maybe they could see what Hansol’s own eyes were doing. They’d be able to, unlike Seungkwan who was too afraid of the possibility of expressions on Hansol’s face as they stood chest to chest. The ghost of Hansol’s lips a hair away from the opening between his eyebrows. The place where Hansol’s fingers have touched, applying pressure whenever Seungkwan was anxious, but never his lips. 

He took a shaky breath and finally looked up. 

At Hansol who’s gaze was notably downward, so downward that when Seungkwan had looked up, his eyes actually had to follow along. 

But then his neck jutted inwards a bit, and their features were lined up. Meeting each other face to face, chest to chest. His fist curled into the hoodie fabric right under where his pectoral muscle would be, and the hands on his waist sliding backwards to press against the low of his back, under the denim jacket. It was clear to see the flash of a glance Hansol took then, back down to where he had been looking before. 

Seungkwan sucked in a breath and then shoved his face into the junction of Hansol’s shoulder. Burying it there.

October 31st

12:26 am

They were sitting out back, a blanket on the grass, Hansol’s arms propped behind him, one behind Seungkwan. Himself sitting with knees folded under his chin. 

They watched the stars. 

Everyone else was still inside. They had made fun of them at first for the mere idea of wanting to sit out here when it was already cold as it was indoors, but Hansol had said he wanted to talk with Seungkwan and they all shut up. 

He threw one of the blankets over his shoulder, Seungkwan grabbing a water bottle they could share, and they made their way out down the shaky porch steps to a good spot where there was no way they’d be seen by the road.

“Sorry they’re such assholes,” was one of the first things Hansol said to him when they fell into position. 

“They’re not assholes, it was just a joke.” 

It hadn’t been an elaborate prank by any means; one of the guys explained that they had actually been exploring another part of the house after leaving the basement and had come back to meet them in the living room as was the plan soon after their group had decided to check the basement. It was apparently Minho’s idea, who had finger whisted when Hansol went to grab the blanket a couple minutes ago.

They lapsed into a quiet pause, Seungkwan rubbing the area of his ankle that was exposed to the cold air. 

“I know this wasn’t the way you wanted to spend Halloween.”

“Well-” He started to protest, but Hansol didn’t let him finish.

“I know how scared you were in there, I would’ve never forced you to do this if I’d have known,” his voice was wavering like he was frustrated and guilty as a result. 

Seungkwan watched him, how his head that had been facing the sky fell to stare at where he was picking a loose seam in his jeans. 

“You didn’t force me.” 

“Yeah-”

“No,” Seungkwan swatted Hansol’s hand away from the ripped hole before he made it any bigger, “You didn’t. Besides, I totally had fun. Maybe not in the moment, sure, but I was with you and - I don’t know - I guess a part of it felt kind of nostalgic.” Hansol lifted his head to make eye contact, “Like we were still freshmen who had just met two months ago, staying all night in a vacant library trying to find information on some random family and their house in the 50s again.”

His best friend chuckled, “I meant what I said before,” his tone was low and sweet, “I’ve always thought of this place as our thing.” 

The moon was bright as it shined down on them. They were leaning into each other more now, Seungkwan propping a hand of his own behind their backs near Hansol’s. Fingers lazily playing with each other, as he turned his torso toward the other, bent legs falling to the side. Hansol’s jaw tipped back just a little to face him as well, allowing Seungkwan’s fingertips to glide over his neck muscles; eye’s tracing them on their journey, to their destination, where he wrapped his hand around Hansol’s neck and pushed his index and middle finger up into his hair, making space for the ear. He cupped the side of his face and thumbed over the cheekbone, then made eye contact once more, seeing the peaceful, loving gaze that had been watching him the whole time. 

“Me too.”