Chapter Text
“You promise you won’t laugh?”
“I can’t recall a time you’ve ever made me laugh,” Castorice deadpanned. Phainon blinked and Castorice stared. He tried not to let that one sting.
“Uh... okay,” and after a deep breath, he continued, “I... I think I’m being haunted.”
Again, Castorice stared. Phainon bit his lip. Already he was regretting trying to tell her.
And then she asked, “Can you elaborate? Do you mean you’re being stalked?”
Phainon shook his head vigorously and said, “No, no, no. Nothing like that.” He paused, trying to decide how to best word it. And then he pulled out his phone, swiped and tapped, and then flipped it around to show her a photo. On his screen was a screenshot of the school paper featuring a photo of a 3rd year student, Mydeimos—Mydei, for short.
She looked at the photo and then back at Phainon. She still didn’t get it.
“Uh...” Phainon scrambled to gather his thoughts, hoping to not sound too insane, “Mydei... You knew him?”
She nodded.
“He... uh... this paper was from a couple of months ago. The beginning of spring, actually...” Phainon hated to say it aloud, especially since there were other students who were still grieving. Thankfully, Castorice saved him by stating it herself.
“Yes, I remember. He was our senior by one year. That paper, I remember people talking about it. He was killed in a freak construction accident near the school.”
Phainon nodded, glancing furtively around them. Luckily the cafeteria was abuzz, and no one was listening to them. He spoke in an even more hushed tone, leaning in and urging Castorice to do the same, “That’s... he’s the one who’s haunting me. Like an actual ghost.”
“You mean... like the occult?” Castorice asked with a tilt of her head. And as she did so, Phainon’s gaze was forcibly ripped away to focus on the apparition standing behind her: Mydei in the flesh. Or rather in the ghostly, pale, phantasm. He stood there facing Phainon, arms crossed and frowning down at him.
Phainon jumped back in his chair and tensed up, as though he were about to make a break for it, from the literal ghost haunting him. Castorice also jumped albeit in a much less dramatic fashion and gave Phainon a quizzical look. She followed his gaze and twisted around in her chair. Behind her, she was likely only seeing the back of the heads of other students at another table; she could not see the tall, spectral Mydei in front of her.
Phainon locked eyes with Mydei, unsure if he should run or try to ignore it. Castorice was only humouring him most of the time, and he knew freaking out over Mydei’s ghost was not going to make him look any less insane.
So, forcing out a laugh, Phainon called Castorice’s attention back to him, “Ah-hahaha! No, sorry. I just got a little bit of déjà vu, and it made me think of something else. Not related.”
Castorice cocked an eyebrow and commented, “You sure seemed spooked by that ‘little bit of’ déjà vu.”
Phainon shook his head, smiling and trying to play it off. He felt himself start to sweat under the intense glare of Mydei.
“So, back to what you had said. You think our late senior is haunting you? Mydei, whom we’ve rarely interacted with outside of seeing him around campus, is haunting you?”
Phainon scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed with how Castorice summarised it and made him sound all the more ridiculous. He had gone over this conversation plenty of times the night before, prepared to argue with Cas until sundown, but now, he didn’t think he could confidently offer any rebuttals when the most pragmatic and cool headed person he knew was staring at him head-on. And while he could feel his resolve slipping through his fingers like sand, he also knew that what he was seeing was real. Or at the very least, something he couldn’t just be dreaming.
It started a few weeks ago—rather innocuous at first. After reading the headline about Mydei and receiving the school-wide email announcing his passing, he thought he caught glimpses of Mydei where he shouldn’t: a blurry face in the crowd. His name being called out just within Phainon’s earshot. Mydei’s own voice calling out to Phainon, just barely audible above the usual drone of student chatter.
And as time marched on, Phainon took notice whenever Mydei came up. In text messages, emails, in university promotional videos, in social media posts remembering him, and in conversations. He didn’t necessarily go out of his way to seek out Mydei, but rather, it was almost like Mydei—the late Mydei, mind you—was somehow finding him.
Not a day went by where Mydei’s name or image didn’t somehow weasel its way into Phainon’s life.
But Phainon assumed this was normal. After all, a student who was relatively well-known around campus died. His name was on almost everyone’s lips. He was well-liked by the professors and underclassmen, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that for a couple weeks after his death, he would be a hot topic. People grieved. They commemorated his life. They also gossiped.
There were rumours. They were nasty, malicious rumours. And of course, the rumour mill only started to turn after the poor fellow kicked the bucket—those scoundrels. The thought of it made Phainon’s blood boil.
Spineless cowards, Phainon thought bitterly, you only feel comfortable talking shit about him now that he’s dead.
“Didn’t you...” Castorice began suddenly, snapping Phainon out of his brooding, “have a bit of a crush on him?”
Phainon’s eyes widen, and almost like a knee-jerk reaction, he turned to look at Mydei, still looming behind Castorice. He didn’t know if Mydei’s ghost could hear them or not. The ghost never spoke. All it did was show its face at the absolute worst times. But the ghost did not react. It didn’t even move, except to blink its eyes which Phainon found creepy anyway.
Before Castorice questioned what Phainon was looking at again, he quickly stammered out, “Uh... N-no. Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m pretty sure you did,” Castorice returned.
Phainon opened his mouth, then shut it. He could feel the heat rising to his face, ears burning, heartbeat quickening—not out of embarrassment, but more like guilt. He lowered his gaze.
“What are you talking about? I don’t—” he started, but she cut him off.
“I think it was our freshman year? Mydeimos was an orientation leader and... I guess you never said it out loud, but it seemed obvious from the way you followed him around like a duckling. You barely knew him, but you lit up every time he waved at you.”
Phainon gawped, utterly betrayed by her memory.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean, I thought he was a cool guy. He was smart and we had a lot in common. That was all.” The words felt hollow even as they left his mouth. He added, much more quietly, “We weren’t all that close.”
And that part, at least, was true.
Even if he had liked Mydei—really liked him—nothing ever came of it. They barely hung out. A few chats at club meetings. A study group meet-up where idle chatter was a no-no. Passing conversations in-between classes that Phainon would replay in his head for days afterward, convinced he could’ve said something better, something more memorable.
But Mydei always had this quiet gravity to him, like he was on another wavelength. He was calm, mature, and way too composed for someone their age. And Phainon... Phainon was just some kid who couldn't even find the nerve to ask him to hang out.
He spent so long telling himself he wasn’t crushing. Telling himself that it was merely admiration or curiosity. Just a dumb little phase.
By the time he was ready to admit it to himself, maybe even act on it, Mydei was gone.
No closure. Just an email subject line, and a funeral he didn’t attend because it felt too weird to show up as a 'friend' when he’d never even been brave enough to be one.
So no, they weren’t close.
But the grief felt real anyway. Not severe, not world-shattering. Just a dull ache that cropped up at the most inconvenient moments. A relationship he regretted not because it went wrong but because it didn’t happen.
And now Mydei was gone.
Or, well, his physical body was.
His spirit, on the other hand...
Phainon sighed heavily, and Castorice, ever the perceptive friend, wisely backed off. She didn’t press, but instead smoothly steered the conversation elsewhere.
“What do you even mean by ‘haunt’ anyway? Are you trying to say that ghosts are real?”
Phainon stirred, seemingly rejuvenated by the change in topic, and nodded, “You don’t think so? Isn’t Professor Tribios always talking about echoes of the past or some such? Lingering impressions, energy trapped between the planes of existence...” He regurgitated most of the recent unit’s concepts that he totally did not understand.
Castorice seemed to ponder this before she said, “Yeah, I’m not so sure. It’s not every day you encounter a ghost, right? And anyway, you still haven’t answered my question. How is he haunting you?”
Phainon hesitated.
“It’s not like some horror movie thing, but... I would see him randomly,” Phainon began slowly, “And not like in photos or whatever, but I mean, in my bathroom mirror. Crossing the road while I’m out doing deliveries. At first, I thought I was just seeing things, or that I was just tired, but it started to get worse these past couple of days.”
Phainon sat forward, elbows on the table as he tried to explain, “He’s no longer just a shadow popping in and out of my peripheral—he actually appeared to me one morning while I was out jogging. I passed him on the trail, Cas. We actually made eye contact and everything. He didn’t speak, though. He just looked at me. And I mean, I just—” Phainon had to stop, realising how quickly he had been talking.
He glanced at Castorice to see if she was even still listening. She was stone-y faced and expressionless as usual. He had no clue if she believed a single word he said, or if she had totally zoned out. He had considered trying to tell his story in full, from the beginning, but figured he’d just give her the abridged version. Because how exactly was he supposed to explain the part where he found Mydei visiting him at his part-time jobs at the convenience store? Or when he saw Mydei at the opposite end of the bar at the pub? Or worst of all, when he was in the men’s locker room showering, and locked eyes with Mydei’s spirit standing in the adjacent shower stall.
Phainon thought he had a strong constitution, but all of these wild instances of Mydei showing up in parts of his life were only bringing him closer and closer to a heart attack.
He couldn’t explain all of that to Cas. And he absolutely could not tell her about how, since last night, Mydei’s ghost wasn’t just haunting him anymore, but was straight-up following him. From his apartment to his classes, to the library, and now here—in the cafeteria, sitting with Castorice.
Mydei’s ghost watched the two of them, as he always did, visible only to Phainon. What struck Phainon as weird—besides the entire situation—was how not terrifying it was. He had always assumed that if he were ever haunted, the ghost would be gory or disfigured or crawling on the ceiling with backwards limbs or have some tortured expression from the pain of their death.
But Mydei just looked like himself. His same, composed, and collected self. And (Phainon thought shamefully) this version of Mydei was just as good-looking and handsome as his once-breathing self.
(A terrible thing to notice about a ghost, by the way.)
"Haunt" might’ve been too strong a word for it, really. But if this wasn’t haunting, then what was it?
“From what you’ve told me,” Castorice began, thoughtfully, “it sounds like the ghost of Mydei is purposefully making his presence stronger so that you would notice him. I don’t know a lot about the occult, but—and this is just my theory—it sounds like Mydei wants you to see him.”
Phainon didn’t have anything to say to that, instead just frowned to himself.
Castorice continued, “Has he tried communicating with you? Like writing a message or making some specific gesture or expression?”
Phainon opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get any words out, Mydei’s head suddenly rose up from beneath the table, remaining between them like a centrepiece decoration.
Phainon’s breath caught in his throat as he choked on his words. He goggled at Mydei’s head as it stared right back at him.
Then it blinked.
And then it spoke with a cock of its head:
“So you finally acknowledge my existence, Deliverer?”
Phainon wheezed, his chest seizing with what was no-doubt a heart attack before he fainted dead away. Right there, in the middle of the cafeteria, and marked with the heavy thud of his body hitting the floor.
...
Phainon groaned as he turned over onto his side. Smushing his face on a cold, linen pillow, he slowly came-to. The first thing he noticed was the strong smell of disinfectant and the gentle whirring of an ancient computer in the background. Opening his eyes, he saw white curtains not even half a meter in front of him. He rolled over and half-sat up, finally taking in the space around him.
He was in the student health centre on-campus, the privacy curtain fully shut and his book bag sitting on a chair next to his cot. He heard the unmistakable clack-clack of someone typing on a keyboard before a student he didn’t recognise peeked in from behind the curtains.
She smiled at him and said, “Oh good. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“I—uh...”
“Anything hurt anywhere? Your friend brought you here, but she said she needed to go to class,” the young student didn’t let Phainon answer, instead poorly explained what had happened. He had fainted and Cas ran off to class shortly after bringing him to the clinic. (She wasn’t the best student, but she was certainly a good one.) “Dr. Anaxa isn’t here right now, so I couldn’t give you a full check-up, but tell me if anything feels wrong. He should be back shortly...”
Phainon shook his head and told her he was fine. She finally let him be, and closed the curtain behind her, the sound of her retreating footsteps finally allowing him to relax. Phainon fell backwards onto his back on the stiff cot. Suddenly, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
Pulling it out, he saw a message from Castorice:
Castorice: Sorry I couldn’t stick around. TAs aren’t allowed to skip, you know.
Phainon: No worries. Thanks for dropping me off at the clinic though!
And then he just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. The tension in his shoulders slowly dissipated.
That is until—
“That was quite a tumble you took.”
Phainon immediately shot upright, his body on high alert. He jolted so hard the cot creaked. At the foot of his bed, sitting cross-legged, was Mydei—or rather his ghost. He watched Phainon like a cat perched and waiting for its owner to move.
He was breathless, terrified to move or speak, but not because he was scared of Mydei. Rather, he was scared that if he made any sudden movements, this dream, hallucination, surreal trip—whatever it was—would disappear like a mirage.
Mydei would disappear.
And he didn’t want that. He needed to first come to grips with what he was seeing. And hearing, for that matter.
“Something the matter, Deliverer?” Mydei asked coolly.
The nickname ‘Deliverer’ was one Phainon earned himself during freshman orientation. When the upperclassmen took the new students out to drink, a running joke started about Phainon and his ultimate mission to bring deliverance to the world. He didn’t remember how and why the nickname came to be because he was dead drunk, but for whatever reason, it stuck. And Mydei especially was fond of it, often calling out to Phainon from across the quad with ‘Deliverer’ rather than his name. Phainon didn’t reject it, but he did find it somewhat embarrassing when most other students just called him by his name.
It had been a while since last he had heard that nickname.
And now, sitting face-to-face with Mydei whom Phainon believed to be dead, hearing that nickname was... Surreal. And just a tad sentimental.
He could do nothing but stare. After all, he still couldn’t be sure if what he was seeing was just some sleep-deprived illusion or a real ghost. He took in Mydei’s appearance after so long. Mydei always dressed well when he was alive, and his ghost apparently did too. In long, black, leather pants, tastefully oversized white t-shirt, and heavy gold chain necklace around his neck, Mydei looked effortlessly cool. His hair was tied back, but his long blonde bangs were messy and in his eyes like usual. For a dead guy, he sure did look good.
“You’re staring really hard, you know,” Mydei’s low voice called out once more. Phainon flinched and then felt his ears heat up. He still had yet to try and speak to the apparition, and he wondered just how crazy he would look if that nursing student overheard him. Swallowing his pride, he finally met Mydei’s eye.
In a hushed voice, Phainon spoke, “You... You’re dead, aren’t you?”
Mydei closed his eyes and nodded. “That I am,” he confirmed.
“You mean... this is real? You’re really a ghost? And you’re talking to me?” Phainon’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t understand what was happening, but seeing and hearing Mydei respond to him—it was almost unreal.
He hadn’t seen Mydei alive for months now.
Mydei tilted his head in thought before responding, “I really can’t say for sure. A ghost would probably be the most accurate description. But as for how and why I am here and speaking to you, I haven’t got a clue.”
Phainon frowned, confused by Mydei’s answer. “What do you mean?” he demanded, “are you saying you didn’t even realise that you were a ghost up until now?”
Mydei shrugged, “I guess that is what I’m saying. Honestly, my memory is a bit hazy. For a long time, everything was... blurry. Like drifting in a vast ocean without any sun. Just dark, quiet. I couldn’t see anything clearly.” He paused, eyes growing a little distant. “But now and then, I’d catch glimpses of something. Of you. Your face. Your voice. Out of everything, you were the only thing I could see. So I clung to that image. It was all I had.”
Phainon blinked, trying to absorb that.
“You mean... You’ve just been seeing me this whole time?” Phainon slowly tried to piece together what Mydei was saying. He had trouble grasping it, but Mydei seemed just as confused as Phainon was. Perhaps even more so since it hadn’t fully registered that he was dead yet. Phainon found it strange that he wasn’t panicking as much as he thought he might, what with an actual ghost at the foot of his bed.
Mydei nodded again, “I guess so. And before long, my senses returned, and I saw more of you. Heard more of you. I heard you talking and laughing. And just recently, I heard your conversation with your friend about... my death.”
Phainon dropped his gaze, guilt suddenly taking over. He mentally replayed the conversation with Castorice, checking for anything insensitive or crass—
And then he remembered.
Cas mentioned his crush.
Panicked, he looked back up at Mydei who still wore an even expression.
No, wait. That’s not what’s important here! Phainon scolded himself, Mydei just found out he’s dead. Whether or not I had a crush on him is completely irrelevant!
With Mydei’s stare still boring into him, Phainon asked, “Uh... are you... okay?” Which he regretted saying right away. Is that what a normal person would do? Ask a dead man how it feels to be dead?
A beat, and then Mydei scoffed lightly, “Well, I can’t say for sure. I have a lot of questions, but I doubt I’m getting any answers anytime soon.”
“R-right...” Phainon deflated. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. His heart ached for Mydei’s situation, and he wanted to say something comforting—something brave or funny or meaningful—but all his thoughts scattered like dust. Instead, he just sat there, watching the ghost of his crush pick at a loose thread on the blanket.
Moreover, Mydei was right: all the questions swirling through Phainon’s mind would likely go unanswered because if Mydei didn’t know what was going on, then who would?
The silence stretched between them like a chasm opening up.
Until finally Mydei bridged it with, “Perhaps it’s best if you just ignore me for now.”
“What?” Phainon blurted, louder than intended.
“I just mean, you don’t need to worry yourself over this. I don’t know what’s happening, but... whenever I stray too far from you, I lose sense of everything. The world dims. Sound disappears. It's like being pulled under. You’re a beacon to me right now,” Mydei paused, thoughtful, “and while I don’t know why that is, I’d rather not drift back into that darkness. Not yet. Not until I understand more.
“I promise won’t be a nuisance. I may have been... rather disruptive at first, but now that we’ve spoken, I’ll make myself scarce. You can go about your life. Pretend I’m not here—”
Mydei looked up—only to stop mid sentence.
Phainon couldn’t be sure what kind of face he was making, but if he had to guess, it probably wasn’t a good one.
You’re a beacon to me.
Mydei hadn’t said it with any affection. He hadn’t leaned in or smiled fondly. It was just fact. Neutral. But inside, Phainon felt like a wire had been pulled taut in his chest. It almost sounded like a confession of affection or attachment to Phainon’s delusional ears. As if Mydei had just casually admitted that their souls were linked by some cosmic thread. As if they were meant to be here, together, even in death.
And that was... exhilarating. For a moment, the cold reality of ghosts and trauma and death receded, eclipsed by the dizzy warmth of maybe. Because all of the sudden, finding answers didn’t seem so pertinent as they did just a second ago.
Then came the shame.
You idiot. He’s dead. He’s confused. He doesn’t know why he’s here, and you’re treating it like a romantic twist of fate? Get a grip.
The contradiction tore at him—he wanted to bask in the idea of being chosen, needed. But he also wanted to be better than this—someone who could offer comfort instead of being consumed by selfish hope.
So he swallowed the tightness in his throat, folded up his emotions, and tucked them somewhere he hoped wouldn’t show on his face.
“I-I can— I’ll help you,” he said, then rushed to add, “I know it must be awful being stuck with me, but I promise I’ll look into it. I’ll figure this out. I’ll help you find a way to move on.”
Mydei blinked. For the first time since they had begun talking, he seemed genuinely caught off guard.
“You don’t have to go that far for me.”
Phainon shook his head, adamant, “No. I want to. Please. I want to help you, Mydei.” He nearly gasped at his own words. He had finally uttered Mydei’s name aloud, and the reality of the entire scene came crashing down on him: Mydei was a ghost and Phainon could hear and see him.
Mydei looked at him with apprehension, perhaps thinking over some unspoken misgivings, until finally, he asked, “You want to help me?” Phainon nodded vigorously so as to prove his sincerity.
Mydei was silent for a moment longer before he at last smiled softly and said, “That’s... very kind of you, Phainon.”
Phainon felt his heart skip a beat. Hearing Mydei’s voice after so many months—and hearing his name no less—it sent Phainon’s heart aflutter. He sucked in a breath and looked away, fearing that his emotions were too easy to read.
He mumbled quickly, “It’s fine. Not a big deal. I mean, if you’re going to be stuck with me, I want to at least be useful to you.”
Mydei chuckled, a warm, low sound that tickled Phainon’s ear, “Useful, huh? Well, I greatly appreciate it.” And that laugh—it finally broke through Phainon, and he laughed too.
He still had so many questions, so many gnawing anxieties about what it all meant—if it meant anything at all. But in some strange, twisted way, he found comfort in Mydei’s presence.
Even if it was just a ghost haunting him, the simple fact that he could see Mydei again—talk to him, laugh with him—was in and of itself a secret joy Phainon could not so easily divulge nor let go of.