eyes are drawn to every inch of the first room he’s entered, flicking every which way as he doesn’t know what to focus on, doesn’t know what to zoom in on in his camera. one of the things he loves best about exploring old, abandoned houses is the snapshot of lap it captures, the moment before it became abandoned - it’s a look into the life of the former occupants, a look into the history breathing with him, it’s unique and, if he had more time, he’d spend hours, days, exploring each and every thing this house has to offer.
but he reminds himself that he’s only got a couple of hours to look through each room, to have a quick spirit box session, so he pushes on, pans around the room as he talks amicably, fills the silence of the house with his own mindless chatter, “so it looks like i’m in what used to be the dining room. with an old house like this being well know, i’m surprised it’s not torn apart by looters.” he pans over the china cabinet, zooming in on the intricate designs of one plate and the crystalline glimmer of a wine glass, before turning camera elsewhere.
“maybe whoever’s here with me, or here in the house, scared anyone off before they could actually take anything.” voice trails off into mindless murmuring, as caspar attempts to recall if the potential spirits of the owner, who was well-known for being a frugal man, would be lingering here. but he doesn’t give himself a chance to answer his question, as he’s quickly moving on, passing through the room, dark gaze glancing down every so often at the emf meter helpfully ticking in hand.
the dining room didn’t have spirit activity, according to those teenagers - a room upstairs did, an innocuous room with no bloodied history splashed onto its walls, and he’s keen to climb the stairs and commence with the spirit box session. but he wants to save the best for last, wants to build anticipation and tension up, so he continues on his path, exiting the dining room after sparing the reading of the emf meter ( and seeing it still reading as no activity ).
“the dining room doesn’t have much activity, according to my research. but the room that does will be saved for last, for a spirit box session. for now we’ll head into what looks like a living room. which – woah.” breathlessness becomes evident in disembodied voice, camera picking up the way awe colors words as it records caspar opening the double doors, showing off a beautiful, antique living room. it feels as if he’s seen such a set up in old books, and he once more has the overwhelming desire to explore each and every nook and cranny the room has to offer.
any worries and fears of coming face to face with a potentially upset spirit has long since bled out of him, replaced only with an eagerness to capture the antiquity of this old house, with its creaking frame and old age rotting in its structure.
seojoon, still keeping to the shadows, accompanies the tall boy as he explores the old house. there’s an odd glint in his eyes that seojoon recognizes -- though not on himself, never on himself. even with no memories of the past, he finds it hard to believe he’d ever experienced anything that would make him look so... awestruck. a nauseous feeling settles on his stomach -- now that, he knows too well. envy is an old friend. unwanted and ever present.
“so what? weird hobby. schmuck probably doesn’t even have friends.” seojoon scoffs.
seojoon hovers just above the boy’s head, pensive, back facing the floor as if laying on a bed, hands twined behind his head, as the other male talks to... the camera? himself? he talks endlessly -- voice steady, absent of fear. it’s been a long time since he’s heard anyone talk so much. it’s been a long time since he’s heard anyone talk, period. he wonders if he should try and scare him, probably wouldn’t be too hard, but seojoon finds himself wanting to find out what he’s going to do next.
the male talks of the ‘pristine’ condition of the room, and seojoon can’t help but to snort loudly.
“of course it isn’t looted. ain’t just gonna let every random idiot with greedy fingers enter my playground.” the old house is one of the several places seojoon enjoys scaring the living shit out of people, and he’s not about to let anyone spoil his fun, let alone his favorite spots.
“damn fucking right i scared them off--” a pause. seojoon’s frown returns, replacing the smug smile that had been crawling onto his lips. it had been years since he had a conversation with anyone. one-sided as it may be, it’s the longest he’s went without getting bored of a human and deciding to simply make them scream in terror. maybe it’s the way the boy speaks, filled to the brim with excitement, passionate glint in his eyes -- the nauseous feeling returns and he’s suddenly out of breath. it’s ridiculous -- seojoon’s a mighty spirit, yet he feels so vulnerable, so... disgustingly weak. it ticks him off.
“alright, fun’s over, kiddo.” he grins mischievously. just as he prepares himself to appear in front of the boy, he opens the double doors, that wondrous awe in his eyes appearing once more. seojoon remains still as a statue. right in front of the boy, invisible to the human eye. he recognizes that emotion, that burning passion that never extinguishes -- once on himself, what seems like eons ago. there’s no fragment of memory of what it was exactly, but it’s there.
the buried desire of finding out more of the past seems to nudge from where it’s neatly hidden.
seojoon almost loses control, almost reveals himself to the strange boy, but ultimately reverts to the shadows once again. though not before hearing a small bip from the boy’s machines.
maybe... maybe just a little longer.
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