Work Text:
The first day Donghwa moved into his new apartment, he knew something was wrong with this place.
The faucet in the bathroom will automatically turn on in the middle of the night, and the light in the living room will turn on and go dark. The strangest thing is that he always feels that a pair of eyes is watching him in the dark.
“Interesting...” Donghwa whispered to the empty living room, with the corners of his mouth slightly curled.
Juwang, floating in the corner of the ceiling, frowning dissatisfiedly. This new tenant was completely different from what he imagined—neither scared nor fled away in a hurry, but seemed to be... Enjoying this supernatural atmosphere?
This completely ruined Juwang’s plan. As a bound spirit who has been in this apartment for years, he has a complete set of scary processes:
- Make a strange noise.
- Moving random objects.
- Appear threatening.
Usually, by the second process, the tenant would already start screaming and running away.
But Donghwa was an exception.
That night, Juwang decided to get a grip on himself. He floated to the bedroom and prepared to perform the most classic—sleep paralysis. However, when he approached the bedside, Donghwa, who should have been sleeping soundly, suddenly opened his eyes.
“Wanna sleep together?”
Juwang was so terrified that he floated to the ceiling in an instant, and his translucent body was a little more solid.
Donghwa held his head and looked at him with a smile, “So it turned out to be a shy ghost, how cute.”
From that day on, a strange tug-of-war began.
When Juwang tried turning the diffuser off, Donghwa would talk to the air, “Oh, somehow, I do feel calmer this way. Thanks.”
When Juwang tried scaring him by moving furniture, Donghwa would start clapping and give praise, “This layout looks better, thank you for the advice. I have never thought of this.”
What pissed Juwang off the most was that one day, while he was trying to write “GET OUT” on the mirror with blood, he accidentally wrote a wrong stroke. Donghwa walked into the bathroom and naturally picked up the toothbrush.
"Do you need me to teach you how to write? Your stroke order is wrong.”
Juwang felt so disrespected that at that point, he wanted to just make Donghwa banish already.
But gradually, Juwang found that this human being was a little special. Donghwa will leave him a cup of hot tea, although he can’t drink it; he will greet goodnight to the air, although he will never get a response; he will even share his day’s experience with him, although he can only get a cold snort as an answer.
One full moon, Juwang sat by the window, staring at the moonlight outside in a daze. This is his favourite moment in life.
“Do you like moon viewing, too?” Donghwa said.
Juwang nodded subconsciously and then realised that he had actually responded to this human being, and immediately turned away, wanting to disappear.
“Wait!” Donghwa stopped, “I bought a new diffuser, it’s your favourite cedar flavour.”
Juwang froze; he had never said he liked cedar.
Donghwa seemed to understand his confusion and explained softly, “Last time I ordered different types of diffusers, only the cedar flavour, you didn’t turn it off.”
This discovery made Juwang a little flustered. He never thought that humans would observe him so carefully.
The next day, Donghwa brought back a pot of white freesia and placed it on the windowsill where Juwang frequently stayed.
“The clerk said that this type of flower can grow in shade,” Donghwa told the air, “It does suit you well, very well.”
Juwang couldn’t help but float out and asked coldly, “What on earth do you want?”
This is the first time that Donghwa has seen Juwang’s appearance clearly—a beautiful young man with a translucent body shrouded in a moonlight-like halo. He obviously has a cute baby face, but he has to put on an indifferent expression.
“Oh, it turns out this ghost looks absolutely fine.”
Donghwa blurted.
The earlobe of Juwang turned red in an instant, although as a ghost, he should not have such a physiological reaction. He pretended to be calm.
“Aren’t you supposed to be afraid of me? I’m a ghost.”
Donghwa stepped forward, smiled, and said, “I am afraid, afraid that one day you’ll suddenly disappear in my life.”
This sentence was so blunt that Juwang didn’t know how to respond for a moment. He tried to escape through the wall in a panic, but because of his unrest, he kept peeking out of the wall to see Donghwa’s reaction, irritatingly.
Donghwa couldn’t help but wheeze, then quickly apologised for Juwang’s annoyed and angry reaction, “I’m sorry, but... You’re cute.”
Juwang glared at him fiercely and finally disappeared through the wall.
But Donghwa noticed that the petals of the pot of freesia trembled slightly, as if it was telling the uncomfortable mood of the ghost.
That night, Donghwa lay on the bed and whispered to the empty room, “Goodnight, Juwang.”
This time, he heard an inaudible response.
“... Goodnight.”
As soon as the barely audible “goodnight” fell, the air suddenly froze, Juwang realised that he had let the cat out of the bag, and his entire spirit body was stunned in mid-air.
Donghwa, sitting up in his bed, his eyes gleamed cunningly in the darkness.
“Did you just say ‘goodnight’?”
“N-No?!” Juwang denied almost immediately, but the panic in his voice betrayed him.
“So your name is really Juwang?” Donghwa, seizing the opportunity to win, the corners of his mouth raised with a proud arc, “Lee Juwang? Jang Juwang? Or...”
“Shut. Up.” Juwang appeared in shame and anger, a faint blush appearing on his translucent face, “How do you know my name?”
Donghwa blinked innocently like a frog. He said, “You just said that yourself.”
“I literally just said ‘goodnight’!”
“That means your name is Juwang by default.”
Juwang was so angry that his hair began to fly. This was the first time he had encountered such a difficult-to-deal-with human. What confused him even more was why this human was not afraid of him at all, but instead seemed to be... Teasing him?
“Who are you?” Juwang floated to the bedside, deliberately causing the temperature in the room to drop sharply, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
Donghwa wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, but still smiled happily, “I am afraid, afraid that you’ll catch a cold. Do you want to warm up in the blanket with me?”
This. Is. It! Juwang decided to use his trump card. He let his body begin to bleed, his eyes turned completely black, and he said in the most sinister voice.
“I am the soul of one who died tragically here...”
“Ooh! Cool effect you have!” Donghwa took out his phone, “Can you do it again? I want to make this scene my wallpaper.”
Juwang collapsed completely. He slumped by the window, hugging his knees, his whole body (his whole ghost?) exuding an air of despair.
“What do you want...” Juwang said sullenly.
Donghwa dropped his playful expression and whispered, “I just want to be friends with you, is that not okay?”
“Humans and ghosts are different.”
“But you’re cute.”
Juwang, eyes widened and glared at Donghwa, “Don’t you DARE call me cute.”
“Then what should I say? Hot? Handsome?” Donghwa tilted his head. “But you are really cute when you puff your cheeks out. You look like a baby hamster, it’s adorable.”
Juwang decided not to speak to this human ever again. He transformed into a wisp of smoke and slipped into the wall—this time, he remembered not to be a tsundere and peek out anymore.
But three minutes later, he couldn’t help but float back and saw Donghwa talking to the pot of freesia.
“Your master seems mad at me. What should I do?”
The freesia swayed gently in the moonlight.
Juwang snorted coldly, “The flower won’t answer you anyway.”
Donghwa turned around in surprise, “You’re back!”
“I’m just here to tell you,” Juwang said, his face deliberately cold. “Starting from tomorrow, don’t buy me anything, don’t talk to me, don’t even...”
He was interrupted—Donghwa suddenly reached out and tried to touch his face. Of course, his fingers passed right through the spirit.
Both of them were stunned.
"It’s freezing cold...” Donghwa whispered.
Juwang felt as if the place he touched was burning. This was so strange. He had been dead for years; why would he still feel this way?
“I’m leaving,” he said frantically.
“See you tomorrow, Juwangie.” Donghwa waved with a smile.
Juwang, halfway through the wall, retreated, “Don’t call me by my name!”
“What should I call you then? Mr. Ghost? Mr. Roommate? Or...” Donghwa deliberately dragged out his tone.
“Darling?”
Juwang, completely defeated, dove headfirst into the wall, this time truly not coming back.
But he didn’t notice that as he passed through the wall, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curled up a little.
In the room, Donghwa hugged his pillow and giggled like a child.
“What a lovely Mr. Ghost.”
The second morning, Donghwa woke up and found the temperature in the apartment was unusually low. A thin layer of frost formed on the windowpanes, and ice crystals hung on the edges of the petals of the freesia in the pot.
“Juwang...?” He tried sounding out.
There was no response, but the temperature dropped a few more degrees Celsius again.
Donghwa, wrapped in a down jacket, muttered to himself, “Looks like some ghost is still angry.”
The kitchen cabinets suddenly banged, as if protesting the name.
“Okay! Okay. Mr. Ghost,” Donghwa said, acquiescing and starting to prepare breakfast. He even fried an extra poached egg and placed it across the table.
“I wonder if Mr. Ghost wants breakfast?” he asked, addressing the empty chair.
The poached egg suddenly floated up from the plate and landed on the ceiling with a thud—clearly it was some ghost expressing its displeasure.
Donghwa held his will to laugh, continuing his solo performance, “I’m going to work today. So Mr. Ghost, be good when you’re home alone~”
The lights throughout the apartment began flickering frantically.
And so, a random cold war began. Juwang expressed his dissatisfaction in every way possible: Donghwa’s shirt would inexplicably appear on the chandelier, his slippers would always be filled with ice cubes, and even his toothpaste would taste like mustard when he brushed his teeth.
But Donghwa wasn’t frightened; he found it amusing.
“Very creative,” he said one day, while trapped in a bathroom that had suddenly locked itself, “But next time, try using a hot towel. It might work better.”
The door clicked open with an annoyed snort.
That evening, Donghwa brought home a package. He deliberately opened it in the living room. Inside was a set of exquisite scented candles.
“I heard this brand has a particularly authentic cedar scent...” He glanced around as he unwrapped the package.
Sure enough, the temperature in the room had risen a few degrees.
Just as Donghwa was about to light a candle, a note suddenly fluttered down from the bookshelf. Written in blood-red handwriting, it read:
“Don’t light it!”
Donghwa picked it up and laughed, “Why? Don’t you really like the smell of cedar?”
Another note floated down, “Who said that?”
“I said that,” Donghwa said confidently, “I’ve been observing you for a long time. Every time I turn on a cedar-scented diffuser, you never come and disturb me during my sleep.”
A subtle ripple in the air, as if a ghost had been caught on camera.
The third note dropped from the air slowly, softer handwriting read, “... Whatever.”
Donghwa triumphantly lit the candle, the delicate scent of cedar filling the room. He noticed a faint silhouette appear by the window, though it quickly vanished.
"Goodnight, Juwang," he whispered.
This time, there was no response. But when Donghwa woke up the next day, he noticed that the freesia had been moved to a more sunny location, and the ice crystals on the petals had disappeared.
The cold war seemed to be coming to an end, Donghwa thought.
However, when the cold war lasted for the seventh day, Donghwa had gotten a fever.
At first, he didn’t think much of it until he was packing up stuff in the living room when he suddenly felt dizzy and nearly fell. A cold hand caught him just in time—though it immediately passed through him the moment it touched him.
“... Stupid human,” Juwang’s voice tinged with rare anxiety.
Donghwa managed to steady himself, giving a weak smile to the air, “So you still care about me.”
In response, the bedroom door banged open, the blanket unfurled on the bed, and the pillows were patted affectionately.
“Lie down,” Juwang commanded, his voice still cold, but the temperature had clearly risen to a comfortable level for humans.
Donghwa lay down obediently, watched the thermometer float toward him, then watched a cup of warm water land steadily on his bedside table.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his feverish eyes fixed on a point above the ceiling. “You’re actually a very gentle soul.”
A cold snort echoed through the air, but the invisible hand gently brushed his forehead, bringing a comforting coolness.
That night, half asleep, Donghwa could sense a person (a ghost?) caring for him. Whenever he felt awful and turned another way, the blanket was tucked back in; whenever he woke up feeling thirsty, a glass of warm water was always at hand.
The next morning, Donghwa’s fever had subsided. When he awoke, he found pills and porridge on his bedside table—though the sight of the bowl floating in mid-air might be a bit unsettling for people who can’t see ghosts.
“You... Cooked porridge?” Donghwa asked, surprised.
Juwang turned his head awkwardly, “It was a takeout. I just brought it in for you.”
But Donghwa knew. Although he’s having a fever, he glanced out to discover the pot on the stove. Yet decided not to expose him.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” He said weakly.
Juwang’s ears turned red again, “... I just don’t want you to die on my territory.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Donghwa nodded obediently, but the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl up.
After he recovered from his illness, their relationship subtly shifted. Juwang no longer deliberately avoided Donghwa. Instead, he would automatically turn on the living room lights when he got off work. Donghwa, in turn, would bring home all sorts of small gifts said to be “loved by ghosts”—antique books, old records, even a set of what was said to be replicas of the Four Treasures of the Study from the Qing Dynasty.
“Actually, if I were still alive, I’d be the same age as you. So stop bringing home these weird collections already.”
“Wait, what? So you’re like 20?”
“Yeah, duh. Did you think I was born dynasties ago?”
Donghwa swallowed nervously and answered, “Yes.”
From that day on, Donghwa’s gifts suddenly changed. The latest sneakers (although Juwang couldn’t wear them, but he said he was happy to see them), limited edition comics, and even concert tickets, although he couldn't attend due to... Conditions.
“Are you trying to please me?” Juwang couldn’t help but ask one day.
Donghwa, arranging flowers, replied without looking up, “Yes, is it that obvious?”
Such a blunt admission left Juwang unsure how to respond.
A few days later, Donghwa returned with a photo frame, “Look, this is my grandmother. She also had the ability to see ghosts.”
The elderly woman in the frame wore a kind smile, her eyes penetrating.
Juwang stared at the photo for a long time, then suddenly said, “When I was alive... I also loved freesias.”
This was the first time Donghwa had ever heard Juwang bring up his past. He held his breath, afraid to shatter this rare trust.
But Juwang regretted his words as soon as he finished speaking, and immediately transformed into smoke, attempting to escape.
“Stop right there!” Donghwa quickly said, “I bought a new, different cedar scented candle, wanna try it out with me?”
Juwang, halfway through the wall, stopped, slowly turning back.
“... Sure.”
But this time, there was a hint of imperceptible tenderness in his voice.
🕯️
The aroma of cedar slowly pervaded the room. Juwang sat on the windowsill, and his translucent figure almost melted into the night in the moonlight. Donghwa sat quietly on the sofa and waited patiently without urging.
“I was young when I died,” Juwang suddenly started, his voice as soft as a gust of wind, “I was only fifteen years old.”
Donghwa’s heart tightened slightly, but he remained silent.
“It was raining heavily that day...” Juwang’s eyes drifted into the distance, as if they had penetrated time and space, “I ran to save a kitten running on the road.”
Donghwa finally understood why Juwang was particularly gentle to stray animals.
“Did you think it was worth it?” He asked softly.
Juwang was stunned for a moment, and then showed a bitter smile, “I didn’t think so much at that time. If it happened now... I’ll probably still do the same.”
There was a brief silence in the room, and there was only a slight crackling sound when the scented candle was burning.
“You’re the first person I met who is not afraid of me,” Juwang, changing the topic, “If it were the other tenants, they would run away already.”
Donghwa smiled, “I guess it was because of my grandmother. She always tells me that ghosts are much kinder than humans.”
“There’s no way,” Juwang denied, but his tone became softer.
At that moment, Donghwa suddenly remembered something, “Oh, by the way, I found some old photos. Would you like to see them?”
He brought out a cardboard box from his room, filled with old images of the apartment building. Juwang drifted over curiously, then froze when he saw a particular image.
“This is...” Donghwa noticed his unusual behaviour.
The image showed a young boy holding a kitten, standing in the courtyard in front of the apartment building, smiling brightly. The boy’s features were unmistakable, reminiscent of Juwang’s appearance in his lifetime.
”This is…” Juwang’s voice trembled, “This is a picture of me when I was eight. How did you get this?”
Surprised, Donghwa said, “This is my great-grandfather’s photo album. Could it be... You used to live here?”
This discovery stunned both of them. It turned out their connection was even deeper than they’d imagined.
Juwang gently stroked his smiling face in the photo, his eyes complicated. He said, “This apartment used to be my family’s old house. Later, our family fell on hard times, so we sold it.”
“So you’re here, it's because…”
“This was my only home,” Juwang took a deep breath, “Therefore, even though I’ve become a ghost, I just wanted to be here.”
Donghwa’s heart felt like it was struck by something. He looked at Juwang’s desolate profile and suddenly wanted to embrace this soul, who had been lonely for so long.
“This is my home now, too,” he said earnestly. “We can protect this place together, of course, if you want to, together.”
Juwang looked up, a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but he quickly turned away. “Whatever you say.”
However, Donghwa noticed that the pot of freesia, untouched, was swaying gently.
Late at night, as Donghwa prepared for bed, he noticed a book by his bed—the out-of-print tome he’d casually mentioned wanting to find a few days earlier.
“Thank you,” he muttered to the air.
A barely audible response echoed from the room, “... Goodnight.”
This time, Donghwa clearly heard the gentleness of this word.
Since that night’s heart-to-heart talk, Donghwa and Juwang’s relationship has reached a strange equilibrium.
Donghwa no longer tries to please, and Juwang no longer deliberately disrupts. They feel like real roommates, except that one of them is translucent and occasionally passes through walls.
On Monday morning, Donghwa was frying an egg in the kitchen, habitually adding an extra one.
“Would you like to try it?” He asked, addressing the air.
Juwang appeared, looking at the egg with disdain, “But I can’t even eat it.”
“It’s okay to just smell it,” Donghwa said, pushing the plate towards him.
Surprisingly, the aroma of the egg slowly drifted toward Juwang, then gradually faded, as if he had truly enjoyed it.
“... Not bad,” Juwang commented, his ears slightly red.
When Donghwa returned from getting out of work that day, he found the apartment remarkably tidy—books neatly arranged, the floor spotless, even his scattered socks neatly folded.
“Did you clean it?” He asked, surprised.
Juwang, who was reading by the window (though the fact that ghosts can read is still a mystery), said without looking up, “It’s too messy. I can’t bear to see it anymore.”
On the weekend, Donghwa was watching a movie in the living room when he “instinctively flinched” at the scary scene.
“If you’re scared, don’t watch it,” Juwang suddenly appeared beside him.
“Who’s scared?” Donghwa said stubbornly, but he quietly moved aside.
When the jump scare of the movie suddenly came up, a cold hand gently covered his eyes.
“This part is boring,” Juwang said calmly.
Donghwa’s heartbeat suddenly accelerated, and he couldn’t tell whether it was because of the movie or the duplicitous ghost beside him.
What surprised Donghwa the most was that one night, he woke up with a cold and cough to find Juwang sitting by his bed, clumsily trying to tuck him in.
Their eyes met, and both of them were stunned.
“You kicked the blanket off,” Juwang said, feigning composure. “It’ll make you worse.”
“... Thank you?”
Juwang immediately escaped through the wall, but Donghwa noticed that his ears were red, practically dripping blood.
In this way, they gradually grew accustomed to each other’s presence. Donghwa would share interesting stories from work with Juwang, and Juwang would automatically turn on the lights when he came home late. Sometimes, Donghwa would even forget Juwang was a ghost—until he suddenly emerged from the wall to remind him that the water was boiling.
However, peaceful days are always short-lived. One day, a demolition notice was posted downstairs, and the old apartment building was to be demolished in a month.
Donghwa, holding the notice, saw Juwang’s fearful expression for the first time.
“You’re gonna have to move,” Juwang’s voice was soft but painful to listen to.
“We,” Donghwa corrected, “We’re gonna have to move.”
Juwang shook his head bitterly, “I’m an earthbound spirit, so I can never leave this place.”
It was not until then that Donghwa truly understood the meaning of “earthbound spirit”.
That night, Juwang disappeared. No matter how many times Donghwa called for him, there was no response. The apartment returned to its original coldness, as if all the warmth before was just a dream.
Yet, Donghwa never gave up. The third day, he placed a new pot of freesia on the windowsill where Juwang frequently stayed.
“I’ll think of a way,” he said to the empty room, “I assure you.”
Under the moonlight, that pot of freesia gently swayed, like a silent response from a hidden ghost.
On the fifth day after Juwang disappeared, Donghwa took his annual leave and began travelling. He consulted ancient texts in the library, visited temples reputed to be efficacious, and even sought out several individuals who claimed to possess psychic powers.
But the answers he received were all the same:
Earthbound spirits cannot leave their bound places unless their unfulfilled wishes are fulfilled, or... Someone is willing to pay a price.
“What price?” Donghwa demanded of an old mage.
The old mage gazed at him with deep eyes, “Our souls are our bond, our lives are our medium. You must share his bond, and from now on, your destinies will be linked.”
Donghwa didn’t think twice, “I’ll do it.”
Armed with this method, Donghwa returned to his apartment. He lit the cedar incense, drew a talisman on the living room floor according to the mage’s instructions, and began calling out.
"Juwang, I know you can hear me. I've found a way."
No response.
“If you don’t want to disappear forever, come out and see me.”
Ripples rippled through the air as Juwang finally emerged. He looked even more translucent than before, his eyes filled with anger and... Fear.
“Do you know what that means now?” Juwang’s voice trembled, “Then leave quickly. I will dissipate after the demolition. It’s inevitable.”
“There’s another option,” Donghwa stepped forward, “The mage said that if someone is willing to share your bondage...”
“No!” Juwang interrupted abruptly, “Do you know what that means? Your lifespan will be halved, and you can never leave me for more than three days! You’ll be burdened by a ghost for the rest of your life!"
Donghwa smiled, “Ahh, so that’s why you’re hiding from me?”
Juwang was stunned.
“I don’t care about my halved lifespan,” Donghwa said, “And... I never thought you were a burden.”
He stepped forward, standing in the center of the talisman formation. “Tell me, are you willing to do it or skip?”
Juwang’s spirit trembled violently, as if experiencing a fierce inner struggle. Finally, he asked, almost choking with sobs.
“Why... Why would you do so much for me?”
Donghwa looked at him with gentle eyes. “Because I love seeing you feign indifference while secretly caring for me. I love the gentle look in your eyes when you look at the pot of freesia. I love you, this duplicitous... Adorable Mr. Ghost, or, Jang Juwang.”
These words shattered all of Juwang’s defenses. He slowly floated into the talisman formation, his cold fingertips gently touching Donghwa’s palm—this time, they didn’t pass through.
“You’ll regret this,” Juwang whispered.
“No,” Donghwa firmly grasped his cold hand, “Let’s begin.”
The talisman array emitted a soft glow, enveloping the two of them. Donghwa felt a wave of dizziness, as if something were being drawn from his body, and something was being injected into it. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Juwang’s spirit had become much more solid, almost like a real person.
“Did it work?” Donghwa asked softly.
Juwang looked down at his hands, his eyes filled with disbelief. Then, he did something Donghwa didn’t expect—he gently hugged him.
The embrace was gentle, carrying the fragrance of cedar and the coolness of moonlight.
“Thank you,” Juwang said, his voice muffled, burying his face in his shoulder, “But if you dare regret it later...”
“I won’t regret it,” Donghwa hugged him back, his eyes curved with a smile, “But now there’s a problem.”
“What is it?”
“Now that we can touch each other...” Donghwa smirked, “Isn’t it time to settle that prank?”
Juwang immediately floated to the ceiling, but this time, a smile was unconcealable on his face.
“In your dreams!”
“I’m just kidding! Anyway, so, are we like... Lovers now?”
Donghwa’s question was so casual, it nearly made Juwang, who was floating on the ceiling, fall. His spirit trembled violently for a few seconds before finally regaining its composure.
“W-What are you talking about?!” Juwang’s voice trembled. “W-W-W-Who wants to fall in love with a human?”
“But we just completed a soul binding,” Donghwa blinked innocently, “If this isn’t counted as lovers, then what is?”
Juwang was so angry that he paced back and forth across the room, “This is a contract! It’s a spell! It has nothing to do with love!”
“Oh, I see—” Donghwa drawled, slowly walking to the window and gently nudging the pot of freesias, “Then why is a certain ghost blushing so visibly right now?”
“Ghosts don’t blush!” Juwang immediately retorted, but subconsciously touched his cheek. Sure enough, it was incredibly hot.
How strange. After completing the contract, even this physiological reaction became similar to that of a living person.
Donghwa suppressed a laugh and continued teasing him, “Then how should I introduce you? My contracted ghost? It sounds like some kind of magical girl setting...”
“Then don’t say anything!” Juwang, embarrassment-stricken, tried to escape through the wall, only to find himself gently tugging at the hem of his shirt—yes, now they could actually touch each other.
This realization stunned both of them.
Juwang looked down at the hand holding the hem of his shirt, warmth spreading from the point of contact, like snow melting on a winter’s day.
“Let go...” His protest sounded weak.
Donghwa, far from letting go, pressed harder, “Since we’re not a couple, holding hands is okay, right?”
The moment their fingers intertwined, Juwang felt as if his entire being was evaporating. He tried to pull his hand away, but found himself... Reluctant.
“You scoundrel...” he muttered softly, but then quietly tightened his grip.
Donghwa smiled like a thieving cat, “I’m only a scoundrel to you.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door. It was the neighbor downstairs, delivering a community notice. Seeing Juwang behind Donghwa, the neighbor asked in surprise.
“You are...?”
Donghwa naturally put his arm around Juwang’s shoulders, “He’s my roommate.”
After the neighbor left, Juwang immediately shook his hand off, “Who are you calling your roommate!?”
“What should I call you then?” Donghwa tilted his head, “Boyfriend? Partner? Or—”
“Shut.”
Juwang silenced him with his hand, though the gesture was more like placing his palm against Donghwa’s mouth.
“Don’t say that.” Juwang glared at him, blushing.
But this time, besides embarrassment, his eyes held a hint of tenderness he hadn’t even noticed.
At night, Donghwa lay on the bed and felt that the position next to him was slightly depressed. He opened his eyes and found that Juwang was lying aside with his back to him, and his spirit was shining with a soft halo in the moonlight.
“Didn’t you say you don’t want to fall in love?” Donghwa joked softly, “And what are you doing now?”
Juwang’s body stiffened and said in a muffled voice, “... Monitoring whether you slept well.”
“I see,” Donghwa approached quietly and gently wrapped his cold body from behind, “Goodnight, Mr. supervisor.”
Juwang froze, but finally did not push away the embrace.
“... Goodnight.”
The moonlight passed through the gap of the curtain, casting a silver edge for the people and ghost who hugged each other. The name or whatever it is may not be so important anymore.
🌅
One ordinary Saturday morning, when Donghwa was making breakfast in the kitchen, he heard a small cough from behind.
“Well...” Juwang’s voice sounded extremely awkward, “If you really care about the name...”
Donghwa turned around and saw that his ghost roommate was playing with the hem of his clothes with his head down, and his ears were red as if they were about to bleed again.
“Hmm?” Donghwa held back his smile. “What’s wrong with the name?”
Juwang took a deep breath and said quickly, “That is you can tell others that we are a couple but don’t publicise it everywhere and you are not allowed to use cringey or corny names and you can’t act intimately in front of outsiders...”
He said so much in one breath that he almost couldn’t breathe—although ghosts didn’t really need to breathe.
Donghwa, blinking, pretending not to hear clearly, “What did you say? I can tell others that we are?"
Juwang glared at him angrily, “You obviously heard it!”
“But I want to hear you say it again.” Donghwa came closer and smiled like a cunning fox, “Tell others that we are... What?”
Juwang was so frustrated that he wanted to escape through the wall, but was quickly pulled by Donghwa’s wrist. The warm touch made him freeze in place in an instant.
“... Couple,” He almost gritted his teeth and said, “Are you satisfied now?”
As soon as Donghwa’s eyes lit up, he immediately continued his teasing, “Then can I call you Juwangie now?”
“If you want.”
“Can we hold hands?”
“... Sometimes.”
“Huggies?”
“... Depends on my mood.”
“Can we kiss?”
“NEVER!” Juwang eventually exploded, his whole body turning shades of pink.
However, that afternoon, when Donghwa was working in his room, he felt a chill behind his neck. He turned his head and saw Juwang, standing behind him awkwardly.
“What's the matter?” Donghwa asked.
Juwang looked away and whispered, “... The contract seems to be a little unstable.”
“So?”
“So...” Juwang’s voice is getting softer, “It may need... Physical contact to maintain.”
Donghwa tried to press down the raised corners of his mouth and opened his arms, “Do you want a hug?”
Juwang stared at him, but still walked over slowly and gently leaned into his arms. The cold spirit is close to the warm chest, forming a wonderful temperature difference.
“It’s just a contract need,” Juwang buried his face on his shoulder and emphasized in a muffled voice.
“Uh-huh, a contract need,” Donghwa nodded kindly, but honestly hugged his awkward ghost boyfriend in his arms.
After a while, Juwang suddenly asked in a low voice, “Is it comfortable?”
Donghwa was stunned for a moment before he realised that he was asking about the feeling of the embrace.
“It’s very comfortable,” He replied softly, “It’s just a little cold.”
As soon as the words fell, he felt that the temperature of the spirit in his arms had risen slightly.
“... Is this all right?” Juwang’s voice is as thin as a mosquito’s cry.
Donghwa’s heart instantly softened into a pool of spring water. He lowered his head and gently kissed the top of his boyfriend’s hair.
“Perfect.”
The spirit in his arms suddenly turned pink again, but he didn’t pull away this time.
The sun was setting, and the people hugging each other in the room cast warm shadows on the wall. A ghost whose duplicitous nature finally compromised, but his arrogant nature still didn’t change—
"It's just to keep the contract!” Juwang emphasized for who knows how many times.
“Alright, alright,” Donghwa responded with a smile, and his fingers gently wrapped around his boyfriend’s cold fingers.
The freesia on the windowsill swayed gently in the sunset, as if they were smiling for this special romance.