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Carbon White

Hakyeon/Taekwoon | PG-13 | wc. 8118

Summary: At seven years old, Taekwoon was already a very mature boy with a fascination for machines and all things science. So Hakyeon wasn’t surprised when Taekwoon started spending less time playing with him— imaginary friends are meant to move on in the end anyway. The Jung family’s move to a brand new house into the quiet suburbs felt like a good time to let Taekwoon transition away from childish thoughts and move on with his life, so Hakyeon makes one last visit to his favourite companion, just to make sure he’s settled in nicely.

Except, Taekwoon doesn’t, and nineteen years later, Hakyeon is still with him, but now as Taekwoon’s official companion in the sinister business of ghost-hunting.

Notes: for @kyaappucino, I’m sorry for the delay in writing this fic; I hope you enjoy the story!

the premise of this fic is taken from this prompt:

imaginary friends usually move on to a new child when their child stops believing in them. This imaginary friend, however, stays because he has a feeling things are about to go very, very wrong for his child.

Tonight was not a good night to be out and about.

Never mind that the weather was absolutely abysmal as it is, with the bucketloads of rainwater gushing down on them as they hurried into the little cottage by the riverside, but Taekwoon had caught a cold, of all things, and Hakyeon can already foresee just how much of a problem that could be.

Taekwoon has a very peculiar sense of smell. It’s saved his life more often than not; a fact that Hakyeon has brought up repeatedly as they packed their gear up for a house call tonight. No smell, no intuition. But he might as well have tried his luck coddling the little stone gremlin that sits at the corner of the local bakery— Taekwoon was more resilient to his nagging than he usually is (or maybe he just had a short temper tonight), and they’d trudged their way over to deal with a client. Hakyeon had grumbled the whole ride there, though the only one who heard him was probably Taekwoon and Jaehwan. Sanghyuk can pick up on his speech too, but only on days when his intuition is particularly sensitive.

The only thing anybody is sensitive to right now is probably the sheer amount of rainwater pouring onto them as they stumbled their way into the old couple’s cottage, where a skinny old lady stepped back to give them space with a lot of nose-wrinkling and tutting. A portly, older man stood quietly in the hall and watched them kick off their soggy boots and hang their drenched coats up on the hooks. Sanghyuk let out an almighty sneeze that nearly dislodged his obnoxiously large tortoise-shell glasses, and the lady shoots him a dirty look before they’re ushered into a cramped little lounge. A young couple is standing nervously by an ancient radiator that rattles like a mouse trapped in a button box, eyeing them as they walked past. Hakyeon sees Taekwoon sniff the air, but all he hears is the faint sounds of congestion and rolls his eyes, trying his hardest not to shout I told you so! to his companion.

Taekwoon seems to sense his disgruntlement anyway, and shoots Hakyeon one of his ‘I’ve got it under control’ looks before sitting down between Jaehwan and Sanghyuk on the tiny sofa, trying his best to fold his long legs up.

“Good evening,” Jaehwan begins, throwing the family a charming smile as he opens his notebook and pushes his hipster glasses up the bridge of his nose. “The Yang family, I presume?”

“Who else would we be?” the old lady snaps, and Hakyeon already doesn’t like her voice. “How careless of you lot to go around stumbling into people’s homes without knowing who they are.”

“Yet you opened the front door for us anyway,” Sanghyuk says cheerily, fiddling with the sleeves of his knitted sweater, and Taekwoon nudges him discreetly. The lady glares at him, and the old man coughs discreetly, touching his wife on the elbow. The lady huffs, and closes her eyes.

“Fix our house,” she says, sharp. “I’m sick of this ghost nonsense, or whatever it is my daughter-in-law claims it to be.”

“You’re the one who thinks there’s a ghost?” Jaehwan asks the woman, and she nods quickly, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“I know it,” she whispers, fear in her wide eyes as her gaze darts between Taekwoon, Jaehwan and Sanghyuk. “I can feel it.” Twice she passes over Hakyeon, leaning casually on the arm of the sofa, but fails to notice him entirely, and Hakyeon’s inclined to think that this whole ghost situation is starting to look a little fishy already.

Usually people that can sense a ghost will catch on to his existence in some ways, especially when his energy clashes quite strongly with the unsavoury types. But this girl didn’t even react— and furthermore, Hakyeon can’t really feel anything strange and Sanghyuk’s hidden tattoos aren’t itching up a storm, so that’s probably the more telling. Even if Taekwoon’s nose is out of commission, Sanghyuk’s tats aren’t affected by a common head cold.

“I’m gonna do a bit of exploring,” Hakyeon announces, giving Taekwoon’s shoulder a squeeze before he strides away, stepping over a truly hideous rug in the doorway before making his way into the other parts of the cottage. He can feel the air displacing around him as he walks, treading the odd space between existing and otherworldly. It’s a unique dimension that even supernatural creatures cannot carelessly traipse through; Hakyeon has what he has long since considered the greatest privilege of being Taekwoon’s imaginary friend-slash-guardian, and the bond that ties him to Taekwoon is what anchors him firmly in the free slivers between reality and the imaginary.

He hears a little meow by his ankles and looks down to see a pretty ginger cat circling his legs, sniffing curiously before turning fluidly and pattering away down the hall, lithe tail held jauntily-high. Hakyeon arches an eyebrow and follows, stepping into the darkness. A pet that doesn’t show signs of distress in a ‘haunted’ house? Suspicious.

“This story isn’t adding up,” he muses out loud to himself, and just as he turns the corner, he nearly walks into a house goblin. “Whoa!”

The tiny creature hisses at him, shooting Hakyeon a livid glare with blazing yellow eyes that shine vividly in the dark. The goblin’s paper-thin skin seems to glow eerily as it scrubs vigorously at what appears to be traces of footsteps on the ground— for a moment Hakyeon’s gut leaps, worried that there might actually be some kind of ghost they’d all failed to detect, but then the goblin smacks a dirty old rag into the print, and a little puff of powder rises from the floorboards.

The cat meows and scuttles over to stand next to him as Hakyeon crouches for a closer look. A delicate sniff, a prod of his fingers, and a little lick was more than enough to determine the outcome: talcum powder. He turns to the goblin, who is busy wiping down another print on the floor.

“Who put this here?” he asks out loud, and the goblin replies in a series of garbled grunts and hisses.

The answer is surprising, but not wholly unexpected.

Jaehwan is still busy scribbling down the young woman’s recollections of the haunting when Hakyeon bursts downstairs, drawing both Taekwoon and Sanghyuk’s attention. The old man looks curiously in Hakyeon’s direction when he sees Taekwoon and Sanghyuk’s heads turn in unison, but Hakyeon has already breezed by, unseen.

“I’ve already solved the case,” he announces at large, and Taekwoon twitches. Jaehwan’s writing falters momentarily, and Hakyeon grins. “I ran into a helpful little house goblin upstairs, who told me that the alleged ‘hauntings’ was actually the young wife and this old couple’s son’s attempts at scaring the two out of the house— apparently they’ve been making a mess around the cottage too, and faking these ghost incidents, which leaves a very annoyed goblin cleaning up after them both.”

Sanghyuk stifles a snort, and Taekwoon elbows him in the ribs, giving an almighty sniffle. He’s looking worse for wear already, with crumpled tissues hidden in his palm and red-rimmed eyes getting droopier by the minute. Hakyeon clucks his tongue and leans over the back of the sofa, brushing his hand against Taekwoon’s forehead.

“We should go,” he offers, wincing when he feels the burning heat against his palm. “You are definitely getting worse, Taekwoonie.”

Taekwoon nods, just a minute tip of his head, and he sits upright without warning, startling the woman into halting her story.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says, voice soft and rather nasally. “After sitting inside of your house for a period of time, I’m afraid I have to say that there’s nothing otherworldly I can feel in this location. I don’t believe my colleagues do either,” he adds, looking to both Jaehwan and Sanghyuk. They both shake their heads, and the old lady makes a loud tutting noise again. Taekwoon politely ignores her.

“But—” the young woman says, stepping forwards with a look of distress on her face. Her husband catches her arm, and she looks back at him, eyebrow furrowed as he simply shakes his head.

“Maybe there’s a misunderstanding,” he offers meekly, and the old lady throws her hands up in the air.

“I’ll say!” she exclaims. “What is all this confusion about? Is there a ghost in this cottage or not?”

“There is nothing,” Taekwoon answers, straightforwards as always, and he offers the two couples a tired smile. “But I’m sure there’s other ways the uneasy feeling of being haunted can be... fabricated, let’s say, by an overactive imagination.”

Hakyeon has to bite his lip to keep from laughing as Taekwoon looks pointedly at the young woman, who blanches so terribly Hakyeon thought she might faint. Her husband stiffens uncomfortably, staring slack-jawed at Taekwoon as they all pile out of the living room and out of the cottage, back into the deluge waiting for them outside. Sanghyuk scurries into the passenger’s seat with his large steps before they could even reach the car, shivering.

“God, the weather is ugly tonight.”

“Which is why I said we should’ve stayed in in the first place!” Hakyeon protests, and Taekwoon winces, rubbing at his temples as he slams the door shut behind him. The little light in the ceiling goes out, plunging them all into near-darkness.

“Yeah, yeah... we’re headed home now anyway.”

“Someone make him a lemon tea when we get back,” Hakyeon huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest as Jaehwan starts the car. “You are going to go right to bed and not get up until tomorrow morning, you hear?”

“Lemon tea, did you say?” Sanghyuk asks, peering into the rear view mirror, and this time he manages to make eye contact with Hakyeon. There are certain places they’ve managed to charm to make interacting with him easier— the car, the office and their flat, for example, host a jumble of complex little spells that weave in and out of the physical and imaginary structure of the world, giving Hakyeon little footholds he can connect to and reach out to the others. They might not be able to see him or touch him the way Taekwoon can (like Hakyeon is a real, living being), but they can at least catch a fuzzy glimpse of him in reflective surfaces or hear him talking. The glasses apparently help, and Jaehwan once likened the sound of Hakyeon speaking to hearing to someone talking through a really long toilet roll placed directly next to his ear.

The trip home was mostly uneventful, simply because it’s late and the rain is making them all melancholic, so Hakyeon lets the silence wash over them as he puts his arm around Taekwoon, rubbing soothing circles into his human’s shoulder and leaning their heads together as they bump their way across country roads back into the brilliantly lit city. It’s apparently a motion that’s always brought comfort to Taekwoon, which makes it one of Hakyeon’s favourite things to do by default.

When they make it back, Taekwoon all but staggers through the office and nearly trips over the threshold of their apartment, barely managing to catch himself on the umbrella stand with a weak grunt. Hakyeon yelps and fusses anxiously around him as Taekwoon straightens with a sigh, toeing his shoes off.

“Are you alright? You didn’t hurt anything, did you?”

“I’m fine, Hakyeon,” Taekwoon replies, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His skin is a sickly shade of green as Jaehwan helps him out of his damp coat. “I’ll go make tea and change and sleep, okay?”

“No, just go to bed,” Hakyeon interjects. “I’ll wake Hongbin.”

“Don’t wake Hongbin—”

“Too late,” another voice says from the end of the hall, and they all look over to see the fifth occupant of the flat and their last co-worker step out into the hall, yawning as he tucks his cardigan around him. “You guys took your time coming home.”

“Tell him to make you tea,” Hakyeon urges, but Taekwoon just waves him off and trudges past Hongbin towards his room. Hakyeon exhales sharply, crossing his arms again. Behind him, Sanghyuk snorts, side-stepping around.

“Taekwoon’s sick,” he says to Hongbin, who arches an eyebrow and looks behind him towards Taekwoon’s room. “Hakyeon wants you to make him tea.”

“Sure, but you can go bring it in,” Hongbin says, pushing his sleeves up his thin wrists. Delicate silver and onyx bracelets rattle as they fall into each other, glowing faintly beneath the warm light in the hall. “I won’t risk getting sick now, I have a test tomorrow morning.”

“Just tell him to hurry up with the tea!” Hakyeon interrupts impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he looks between Sanghyuk and Hongbin. Hongbin is the only one in their group who simply cannot see or hear Hakyeon at all, despite all the charms and spells surrounding them, and generally relies on Hakyeon occasionally rearranging fridge magnets or writing on the condensation on the window to communicate with him. But in moments like these— when Taekwoon’s heath is at stake!— it’s faster to just make Sanghyuk or Jaehwan relay the message.

“He says to hurry up,” Sanghyuk snickers, and Hongbin makes a big show of rolling his eyes before walking into their kitchen. Hakyeon scowls at those who remain.

“See if I ever help you out when you lot ever get sick.”

“It’s not like you can do much anyway,” Jaehwan jokes, walking around him. “Besides, Taekwoon’s not gonna die, it’s just a little head cold. He gets one like, every time the weather makes a drastic change.”

“But his immune system is so weak,” Hakyeon protests, following Sanghyuk and Jaehwan into the kitchen. Hongbin is rummaging through the fruit basket, presumably looking for a lemon to cut up. “You should see him when he was younger, he had to miss school every other week during the winter! When he was in first grade, there was a time where he couldn’t leave his bed for three whole days!”

“Aw, poor six year old Taekwoonie,” Sanghyuk snorts. “It’s not like he’s a twenty-six year old man now or anything, eh?”

“This is no laughing matter,” Hakyeon grumbles, and Jaehwan finally takes pity on his poor soul.

“Okay, quit griping about Taekwoon’s apparent bad health in his youth, we all know he got better because, well, here he is now, chasing down ghosts and whatnot, so you can relax, okay? I’ll bring him his tea once Hongbin’s finished.”

“I got out of bed for this,” Hongbin tacks on helpfully, and Hakyeon sighs.

“Thank you, Lee Hongbin,” he says pointedly, and Sanghyuk turns to Hongbin.

“He says thank you, in that bitchy suburban mom tone.”

“You’re welcome, Hakyeon,” Hongbin replies with a good-natured huff, and sets a steaming mug full of tea down on the counter top for Jaehwan to take. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going back to bed.”

“Good luck with your test tomorrow,” Sanghyuk calls, already distracted by something on his phone as he munches on a bag of chips he’d pillaged from the cupboard. Hakyeon makes a mental note to tell Taekwoon someone needs to go shopping as Jaehwan picks the mug up.

“C’mon,” he says to Hakyeon, walking slowly out of the kitchen. “Let’s give Taekwoon his drink— Jesus, why does Hongbin always fill the mug to the brim?”

He gets a loud tut in response— but it’s all bark and no bite, and Jaehwan himself is grinning cheekily as he inches across the kitchen with maddening caution, watching steam rise from the mug. Hakyeon wants to push him.

“Hurry up,” he whines. “Taekwoon is waiting.”

Jaehwan shoots him a look. “Don’t rush me,” he warns. “You have no idea how hot this is.”

Hakyeon huffs, crossing his arms. “I have some idea,” he protests, but Jaehwan is right. Without a corporeal form, the only thing Hakyeon really does know about heat is how a kettle of boiling water once scalded Taekwoon’s hand when a spirit they were hunting knocked it off a stovetop. Everything around him is basically guesswork and definition by association, anyway.

He tries not to think about how often that bothers him.

Taekwoon’s room is dark when Jaehwan nudges the door open, whispering a name quietly into the dimness. Hakyeon slips inside, making a beeline for the bed, and to nobody’s surprise Taekwoon has already managed to burrow himself under the covers like some kind of mole.

“Taekwoon?” Hakyeon murmurs, touching the lump that might be the shoulder, and Taekwoon grumbles, shying away from the touch. “Taekwoon, get up, you should drink this.”

“Later,” Taekwoon’s voice garbles from under the covers, and Hakyeon sighs.

“I can leave it on the nightstand,” Jaehwan offers softly, managing to unearth a coaster from under a pile of unopened mail and printed emails stacked onto the small tabletop. “If he wakes up, or if you manage to dig him out of bed, he can get it himself.”

“Okay,” Hakyeon agrees, and Jaehwan gives him a little salute before he slips back out, footsteps padding lightly down the hall as he walks. Hakyeon frowns at the mounds on the bed and prods at the blanket a little more harshly.

“I told you we shouldn’t have gone out. You needed rest.”

The blanket wiggles and a moment later, Taekwoon’s head pops out. Even in the dark, Hakyeon can tell his eyes are red-rimmed and watery, and his nose is probably in the same condition.

“I don’t want the others to take a case alone,” he mutters, and Hakyeon crosses his arms, sitting firmly down on the edge of the bed.

“The others would’ve been fine. Jaehwan and Sanghyuk are smart enough to handle this, even if their common sense has a tendency to go down when they’re goofing off together.”

Taekwoon sounds like he might start laughing, but it’s interrupted by a hacking cough, followed by a tired groan. “Still. I’m older.”

“And sicker,” Hakyeon points out, watching Taekwoon push himself up on his elbows to reach for the mug. He can’t help but rub soft, soothing circles onto Taekwoon’s back as the man drinks the tea. He hopes it helps a little, and is pleased when Taekwoon finally sets the mug down and slides back under the covers, heaving a sigh. “Is it bad?” Hakyeon adds, unable to help himself.

Taekwoon shrugs, plumping a pillow so he could face Hakyeon. “It’s alright. Just feels like my head’s been stuffed up with cotton, or whatever. The back of my throat is kind of itchy too.”

Cotton. The softness of fabric, the puffy roundness of the white little balls from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, the swaying plants he’s seen in pictures. Hakyeon knows what it is, but at the same time, he doesn’t. He nods at Taekwoon’s description all the same, like he can relate.

Taekwoon’s eyes are already drifting shut, evidence of his exhaustion. Hakyeon smoothes his bangs back from a warm forehead, and offers Taekwoon a smile.

“Go sleep,” he nudges. “You need the rest.”

“Mmm,” Taekwoon mumbles, turning over. He squints at the pile of paper on the nightstand, momentarily sticking his hand out to trifle with it before selecting one of the printouts. “I was reading before you and Jaehwan came in... wake me if I’m not up by ten, will you? I wanted to go over this case with the others next.”

When Hakyeon nods in acknowledgement, Taekwoon finally slumps back down on his pillow, yawning widely. “You’ll be there tomorrow?” he adds belatedly, words slurring slightly, and Hakyeon inclines his head again, even when Taekwoon can’t see him anymore.

“Of course,” he says. “You know I will be.”

Taekwoon’s answer is a slightly congested snore, and Hakyeon slides off the mattress so he could scoot over to the head of Taekwoon’s bed, choosing to lean against the nightstand while he watches his human sleep. Taekwoon’s sleeping habits hadn’t changed in the slightest since he was little; he still like sleeping on his right side, still tucked a hand under his chin, and still got that funny little furrow in his brow until he was in deep sleep. He also liked asking Hakyeon if he’d be there tomorrow— a cute little question he used to inquire each night before he slept when he was younger. And Hakyeon would always answer, just like any imaginary friend would. Of course! Sure! Goodnight, Taekwoon.

There was one time, the night before seven year old Taekwoon’s family moved into their new house, that Hakyeon had prepared to say goodbye instead of saying yes. I might not be there, he’d whispered in the dark as a much younger Taekwoon drifted off to sleep. But don’t worry. You’ll do fine. I know it.

But with the events that transpired afterwards, it was the first and only time Hakyeon had ever failed to promise to see Taekwoon in the morning again.

+

Even though Taekwoon said to wake him at ten, Hakyeon deliberately lets him sleep until noon, choosing instead to watch the others slowly rouse themselves in the morning, with Hongbin headed off early in the day to do his exam. Hakyeon spills some rice and spells out ‘GOOD LUCK’, to which Hongbin responds with a slightly pained expression as he cleaned the rice up and tried to wave goodbye to Hakyeon (he faced the wrong direction) before leaving the flat. Sanghyuk walks in a little later, bleary eyed as he made noodles for himself and Jaehwan. He scratches absentmindedly at all the runes on his forearms as they slowly wake with him, and manages to chat with Hakyeon without his glasses.

Sometimes, when the others’ guards are still low in the morning, they’re able to perceive him better; it’s one of the small gaps between the here, there, then and now that Hakyeon slips through without reservations. Jaehwan joins them sometime later, his bedhead an incredible sight to behold, and they bustle and bump around in the kitchen until Taekwoon wakes up.

“You didn’t wake me,” he says at once, a slight accusation in his voice as he points at Hakyeon, but it’s mostly resignation. He knows what Hakyeon’s like when he’s worried.

“You’re welcome,” Hakyeon says smoothly, grinning. “You look a whole lot better after all that rest already.”

Taekwoon snorts, plodding over to the pot on the stove to inspect its contents. When he deems Sanghyuk’s noodles edible, he takes a bowl out of the cabinet and grabs a pair of chopsticks for himself.

“So, what’s on the schedule today?” Jaehwan asks, sliding his glasses onto his nose as Taekwoon joins the table with his food. The printout from yesterday is set on top of the morning’s paper, and everybody leans in to take a look.

“A request to banish a menacing spirit,” Sanghyuk reads, chin propped up on his hand. “From a college student, who’s renting out an attic in a cabin by the river.”

“That doesn’t sound creepy at all,” Jaehwan comments. “Also, who lives in an attic nowadays?”

“You lived in your brother’s storage room for two months after you got evicted from your old place before,” Taekwoon says, and Sanghyuk laughs as Jaehwan shoots Taekwoon a glare.

“Why this case?” Hakyeon interrupts, eyes roaming over the address on the paper. “It sounds kinda vague.”

Taekwoon shrugs, hefting up a gigantic clump of noodles in his chopsticks. “Just a feeling,” he says, and Hakyeon sees Sanghyuk slanting him a curious look. There’s something Taekwoon’s not saying.

None of them pry, because whatever it is Taekwoon is bound to tell them sooner or later; he’s terrible at keeping secrets. But Hakyeon’s still got a weird feeling of anticipation in the pits of his stomach as they go about their daily business, waiting for Hongbin to return before they all head out.

+

“Holy shit,” Sanghyuk says, staring up at the cabin. “This place isn’t creepy, it’s hella freaky.”

“Creepy freaky,” Jaehwan chimes in, shivering as a cold gust of autumn air blows by. Hakyeon chews his lip as he watches the energy crackle around the house, hostile and sinister.

Hongbin rubs at his bracelets uncomfortably. “Do we have to go in?” he whispers, and Taekwoon nods as best he could when his neck is bundled up in a thickest scarf Hakyeon could find in the closet.

“I promised I’d help out.”

“Promised?” Hongbin echoes, giving Taekwoon a shrewd look. “This is starting to sound less and less like a job, Taekwoon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taekwoon asks, playing dumb, but they can all tell he’s bluffing. The redness at the tips of his ears has nothing to do with the cold.

“We don’t get personal with cases,” Hongbin points out. His voice is a little softer this time. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything, but I just wanna know what we’re getting ourselves into, because I’m sure we all feel just how weird that house is. Sanghyuk’s practically rashing by now.”

“I am indeed,” Sanghyuk agrees solemnly, itching feverishly at his forearms.

“Taekwoon?” Hakyeon asks, touching Taekwoon’s elbow, and Taekwoon seems to deflate a little.

“The guy,” he mumbles. “He’s a friend of mine. From school.”

“A friend?” Jaehwan repeats in surprise.

“The guy from my six o’clock lecture,” Taekwoon says, jerking his chin towards the cabin. “You know, Wonshik?”

Hongbin nearly spits. “Wonshik? Y-you’re friends with Wonshik?”

“Yeah?” Taekwoon blinks, and Sanghyuk lets out a little snicker that turns into a grunt when Hongbin digs the heel into Sanghyuk’s foot. Hakyeon looks between them, confusion and a smidgen of frustration building in him. Who is Wonshik? Why is Hongbin so flustered? And who is he to Taekwoon, who’d tread the line of being so-called ‘personal’?

“Someone explain to me,” Hakyeon complains, trying to hit Jaehwan on the shoulder. “Why are we all suddenly getting all tense? Who’s Wonshik?”

“Hakyeon wants to know who Wonshik is,” Sanghyuk says, waggling his eyebrows, and Hongbin turns redder.

“He’s just Taekwoon’s classmate,” he says, maybe a little too loudly, because there’s a sudden chorus of chips as a few birds leave a nearby tree in a rush. They all freeze, watching the animals take flight, and the silence that follows is a little more serious.

“Well,” Jaehwan says slowly, glancing around cautiously. “You’re the one who said we should refer clients that we know to other ghost hunters to minimize risks. Are you sure we should take this case?”

“We should,” Taekwoon says firmly. “It’s just... a feeling. Let’s go and get it over with.”

Hakyeon glances at his friend, pouting and pushing down the doubts in his chest, but Taekwoon just gives him a reassuring look before wiping his nose. “C’mon, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanghyuk hums. “We’re right behind you.”

“Oh my god,” Hongbin whispers, covering his face so that his voice is muffled. “I’m going inside Wonshik’s house. Or his attic. Why the heck does he live in an attic?”

“Don’t freak out,” Jaehwan says wisely, giving Hongbin a friendly nudge as they make it up to the porch, only to squawk as Hongbin punches him in the arm. “Ow! Okay, you’re definitely freaking out.”

“I’m not!” Hongbin hisses just as Taekwoon knocks, and the sounds of glass breaking echoes from inside.

“What was that?” Sanghyuk asks, frozen, and Taekwoon immediately hammers hard on the poor door.

“Wonshik? Wonshik, are you there?”

“I’m gonna go inside and check!” Hakyeon says hurriedly, and the words of caution are barely out of Taekwoon’s mouth before he’s phasing through the wall. It’s a little trick he can pull off every once in a while, but it always makes Hakyeon feel queasy. Walking through a whole bunch of animate objects, all of which are made up of their own particles and takes up their own space in existence just feels like it dispels him, a little.

Once again, it feels like he’s only managing to tread on the outside of all the planes of existence.

Shaking the fog from his mind, Hakyeon barely has time to register the inside of a dim living room, broken glass and spilled water on the floor before a blood curdling scream sounds from the other end of the room.

Hakyeon screams back, startled, and from the outside, Taekwoon’s pounding is joined by three other people.

“Hakyeon! What’s going on?”

“What’s happening in there?”

“Hakyeon, answer!”

The young man cowering in the doorway of the living room can’t be any older than Hongbin. He’s got a smattering of regular tattoos on his arms and shoulders, visible under the thin tank top he’s wearing, and Hakyeon can’t sense any magical traces on them. A normal guy, then. A normal guy who’s somehow managing to look straight at Hakyeon.

“Go away!” the man cries, holding his arms over his head. “D-don’t hurt me!”

“I’m not gonna!” Hakyeon cries, taking a stuttering breath. God, the air inside was heavy. “I’m a friend— a friend of Taekwoon’s— are you Wonshik? Can you see me?”

The why is bouncing around his brain, but he has a feeling it’s because of the weird energy trapped inside this cabin, more potent than ever.

The man’s terrified shaking finally lessens into little trembles, and he peers up at Hakyeon with watery eyes. “O-only a little,” he admits in a tiny voice. “You’re kinda— kinda h-hazy looking— wait, why are you transparent—”

“Good enough,” Hakyeon huffs, cutting Wonshik off before he could scare himself into a fit again. He clutched at his chest; if he had a physical heart, he was certain the organ would be beating out of his ribcage. “Go and get the door, we’re here to solve your ghost problem.”

Wonshik doesn’t answer; he scrambles over and unlocks the door with shaky hands, apparently deciding to follow Hakyeon’s instructions instead of questioning his state of existence. A moment later, Taekwoon, Sanghyuk, Hongbin and Jaehwan all spill inside with frenzied looks on their faces.

“Are you alright?” Taekwoon asks immediately, and Wonshik looks like he might sob with relief.

“I’m o-okay, the knocking just scared me— thank god you guys are here, I swear this house is gonna drive me insane.”

“What was the glass then?” Sanghyuk asks, looking around, and Wonshik glances back into the hall, sheepishly.

“Um. I dropped my mug when I startled.”

“Oh. Oops, our bad,” Sanghyuk says, scratching furiously at his wrists until Jaehwan grabs his hands to stop him.

“It’s alright,” Wonshik assures through chattering teeth, wringing his hands anxiously. “I’m just— well, just jumpy, like always.” His gaze slides over each of them, passing over Sanghyuk and Jaehwan until it settles on Hongbin. He looks surprised. “You’re.... you’re the guy who works at the front desk at the recreation centre on campus.”

“Uh,” Hongbin says articulately, blushing up to the roots of his hair, and Jaehwan grins.

“I’m sure you guys are gonna get along well,” he teases, somehow managing not to wilt under Hongbin’s laser glare, and Taekwoon clears his throat.

“I got your email,” he tells Wonshik, rubbing at his red nose. “We’re here to help you.”

“R-right,” Wonshik says, and his entire frame seems to droop with wariness. “It’s. Things are... getting worse.”

Hakyeon glances around the ground floor of the house, thrown into semi-darkness. There’s a chill in the air that’s obviously affecting the others, and even he can feel like there’s something crawling up his skin. The wind outside howls, and the house moans. Jaehwan pushes his glasses back up his nose, no longer smiling, and Hongbin rubs at his bracelets absent-mindedly.

“C’mon, let’s go upstairs and check the place out,” Taekwoon mutters, sharp eyes glancing around. His gaze lands on Hakyeon and Hakyeon immediately moves closer, seeing the way Wonshik’s eyes trail after his movement. He bites his lip, worry settling inside him.

“This way,” Wonshik says eventually, and they move towards the stairs.

+

It’s definitely the weird energy in the house that’s bringing Hakyeon into view.

Jaehwan and Sanghyuk proclaim that they can see him even better now, and Wonshik keeps cowering away from his ‘ghost-like’ form, and Taekwoon is squinting at him every once in a while, mumbling about disturbances in the air. Hongbin is still the only one who can’t see him, but the energy must be strong, because Hakyeon catches sight of Hongbin’s eyes trailing unconciously after him as he moves somewhere in the room.

Wonshik leads them up to his attic he’s renting out, explaining his housing situation as he goes.

“I’ve been living here ever since I moved out of residence a year ago. The place was perfectly normal before; it belongs to this old couple who only use it during the summer and they’re cool with me living here during the school year. But sometime during the spring, right before I went back home, I started noticing things.”

“Like what?” Jaehwan asks as the wooden stairs creak and moan under their combined weight. Wonshik shakes his head, cheeks pale and complexion awful.

“It seemed so... insignificant at first, but I then I noticed some of my things were being moved around. My notes, books, and food. Then the doors would start closing on their own, windows would open without meaning to, and I’d hear sounds from the piano downstairs, even when I was the only one in the house. It wasn’t ‘till all my cups and plates started breaking that I got worried.”

Sanghyuk lets out a low whistle when they arrive in Wonshik’s room. The curtains are pulled back, and the lamp is on, but even the sunlight coming in through the glass feels filtered and smothered. There’s a keyboard set up on the desk, some books lying stacked on the ground, and a rug is rolled up and pushed against the corner of the room. The strangest thing, though, is a large sheet draped over the vanity at the end of the room. An oppressive force seems to emit from it, poisonous and foul.

“What’s that?” Taekwoon asks, pointing, and Sanghyuk is scratching all the way up to his elbows now. Hakyeon shivers, rubbing his palms up and down his arms too.

“There’s a mirror there,” Wonshik whispers, shuddering. “It was the old couple’s— they store some of their stuff here— but ever since I came back to live here I’ve been seeing— things.”

“Things,” Taekwoon repeats, brushing his fingers along the edge of the sheet, and Wonshik yelps, leaping forwards to grab Taekwoon’s wrist. Everybody freezes.

“I saw— I keep seeing something behind me,” Wonshik chokes out. “A shadow, reflected in the glass. Sometimes there’s a face, but it never stays long enough for me to focus. It’s always in my peripherals. I hate seeing mirrors in this house because there’s always something there. That’s when I also started finding my books knocked over, things thrown about the room, and these dusty footprints left in the rug after each night. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I put all those things away.”

Taekwoon steps back from the mirror thoughtfully.

“I’m thinking,” he says, slowly. “Of a poltergeist.”

“A what?” Wonshik squeaks, and Hongbin clears his throat.

“It’s a type of ghost,” he explains, sounding shaken. “They’re usually the biggest troublemakers, because with them it’s less of a haunting than it is... deliberate mischief?”

“I’d say this one is more malicious,” Taekwoon mutters, and ignores Jaehwan’s curse.

“What’s gonna happen then?” Wonshik asks, unconciously grabbing Hongbin’s arm. Hongbin goes red, but he pats the other man’s hand in an awkwardly comforting manner.

“We should try and lure it out, at least,” Taekwoon says. Hakyeon flinches at the sound of that, feeling awfully displaced.

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” he says, before he can stop himself. Taekwoon looks his way, initially surprised, but then he offers a grim shake of his head.

“Best to get it done and over with. Can’t let it take root more than it’s already done in this house.”

“Still,” Hakyeon protests, and Taekwoon shoots him a wry smile.

“Relax, Hakyeon, it’ll be fine.”

“And those words have never backfired terribly in a ghost busting session before,” Jaehwan jokes, but he’s retrieving a pouch of rock salt from his bag anyway. They all fall into familiar action, quickly pushing furniture and books aside as they work. Hakyeon gets shepherded off to the side with a petrified Wonshik, and they watch as Jaehwan lines salt at the windows and at the bottom of the door and Hongbin pulls one of this bracelets off his wrist. He and Taekwoon carefully position it in front of the mirror, but it’s not until Sanghyuk stands over it, murmuring a trap incantation that the entire vanity rattles with a vicious bang.

“What was that?!” Wonshik chokes, hands flying up to cover his face, and Hakyeon shushes him quickly.

“Get under your desk,” he says, herding Wonshik towards his workspace. “Wait there.”

“Hongbin, get ready to pull the sheet off,” Taekwoon says, exuding an incredible picture of calm despite the rattling and shaking growing more intense. Sanghyuk’s whispers become faster and more urgent, and the tattoos on his arm are turning blacker, darker. Jaehwan stands by, a handful of salt in his palm, and Hakyeon moves forwards cautiously. The last time he’d dealt with a poltergeist was nearly nineteen years ago, and it hadn’t been pretty.

But he’d been successful, and he really wants this case to end the same way.

“Alright,” Hongbin mutters, grabbing a handful of cloth. “Let’s make this count, guys.”

Sanghyuk grunts, palms forcefully pressing against the shaking vanity, and Taekwoon’s eyes narrow.

“Now!” he shouts, and Hongbin rips the sheet off.

The vanity is a beautiful piece of work— old polished wood, decorated carvings lining the frame, and it’s got a very antique quality to it. Hakyeon personally wouldn’t mind its design, but at the moment it’s currently oozing black liquid from the edges of the mirror, and it looks awful.

Sanghyuk makes a noise of disgust, and Taekwoon inhales sharply just as the glass cracks, spiderwebbing right in the middle like an invisible fist had punched it, and a shadow looms into view from behind them.

Wonshik’s warning shout comes a second too late, and then Jaehwan is thrown across the room, yelping as he falls into an empty bookcase. Taekwon whirls around, throwing his scarf at the shadow. The runes on the cloth flash brilliantly for a moment, blocking the shape for a moment, but then the scart bursts into flames, turning into little flakes of ash that whirl aside as the poltergeist smashes into Hongbin next. Hongbin gets knocked into the laundry basket with a grunt, sprawling painfully onto his side.

The shadow whirls over the ceiling, down the wall, and accidentally treads on the salt at the doorway. There’s a vicious hissing noise and the salt suddenly cracks and pops, sounding like little fireworks going off. The walls rattles ominously as the poltergeist bounces off, spins through the air, and dives right at Taekwoon.

“Don’t you dare!” Hakeyon shouts, and leaps into its path.

He barely hears Taekwoon’s shout of alarm before he collides with the malicious spirit, and everything explodes into dust and confusion.

+

He didn’t know where the Jung family’s new house was at, but Hakyeon knew were Taekwoon was. He always did, given his responsibility over the young boy, and where Taekwoon was, the rest of the family would be.

He spends a portion of his time wandering through a recently vacated house— the house Taekwoon and his family used to live in before his father received a promotion at his job, and the entire household could move to a different city. He’s heard their family talking about it, sometimes sat in on those little chats too, if Taekwoon was present. The new house is half a day’s drive away, in the suburbs of a busier city, and Taekwoon and his sisters would attend a new school downtown. It’s got a good music and science program, which is what the children (Taekwoon in particular) liked.

Hakyeon smiles wistfully as he stares around the empty bedroom. He can still see the elaborate train track set Taekwoon had set up across the floor for most of his time as a five-year-old, excitedly constructing stories for the electronic trains with Hakyeon as they laid on the bellies to watch the little cars chug by. Next came the dinosaur obsession, and the room turned into a jungle where natural predators with sharp claws lurked in the shadows, behind the trees and chairs and in the blanket cave. Spaceships followed the great dinosaur escapades, and the ceiling became emblazoned with glow-in-the-dark plastic stars. They made a model of the solar system together, and Taekwoon’s mother helped them hang it up over his desk. When the window was open, the breeze would make the planets turn in lazy circles.

It had been a natural segue into the sciences, and once Taekwoon got his hands on books there had been no turning back. He checked out stacks of books from the library, piled his desk with video cassette tapes, and read to Hakyeon until the lure of the unknown became something Taekwoon fell in love with. Slowly, his attention turned to the next unread book, and Hakyeon would read over the boy’s shoulder silently instead, watching Taekwoon grow up.

There’s no rule that says he has to go if Taekwoon outgrew an imaginary child, but it’s always good to let children transition into a the next stage of their life. Hakyeon doesn’t age in this form; he only reflects the age of the child he’s with. He’ll grow as they do, and once they’re ready to walk on their own, he’ll find the next child to take care of. The Jung family’s move to a brand new house felt like a good time to let Taekwoon transition away from childish thoughts and move on with his life anyway.

But that doesn’t mean Hakyeon isn’t allowed to make one last visit to his favourite companion, just to make sure he’s settle in nicely. That’s why he’s roaming through the human world as night is falling, letting his internal compass (which is always pointed towards Taekwoon) guide his way. He lets everything blur by him until he arrives at an unfamiliar neighbourhood. The houses are a bit bigger, the driveways a little longer, but it lacks the familiarity that came with Taekwoon’s old house. Hakyeon frowns as he treks down the sidewalk, sniffing the air. There’s an energy here that he can’t quite place, but it makes something creep up his arms and prickle at the little hairs at the base of his neck. It doesn’t go away when he reaches Taekwoon’s new house— if anything, it grows stronger, much to Hakyeon’s alarm.

He stands at the end of the driveway, staring up at the darkened windows of the house. A cold wind blows by, and it howls down the street. The light from a streetlamp flickers pitifully, and Hakyeon bites his lip. He’s not sure if he should go in to check; maybe he’s just being paranoid? Maybe he’s just overly worried for Taekwoon, still caught up in his duties as an imaginary friend. Because no matter what, he’d promised he’d always be there for Taekwoon, to take care of and protect his best friend.

The feeling of something heavy and awful pressing down on his chest comes first, and then the alarming realization that something has gone horribly wrong.

The glass in the windows on the second floor suddenly breaks, raining down onto the pavement, and Hakyeon looks up in horror as a scream sounds from inside the house.

He bolts for the Jung’s household with only one thing on his mind.

“Taekwoon!”

+

There is a curious sensation at his fingertips when he comes to. It’s soft, thready, and slightly warm. Hakyeon turns his head, and to his surprise the same feeling meets his cheek. A quick assessment of his surroundings leads him to realize the same sensation is covering his chest and arms, all the way down his torso to his legs. He wiggles his bare toes, and there’s that same soft-thready-warm feeling again, and that’s when Hakyeon realizes what this is.

He can feel things.

His eyes flies open, and he almost yells when sunlight shines right into his eyes. Since when did the sun become so bright?!

“Hakyeon!”

Hakyeon’s breath catches in his throat and he turns over so fast he thinks his neck cricks; Taekwoon is sitting at the edge of a bed. His bed, Hakyeon realizes belatedly. Taekwoon’s bed, in Taekwoon’s room, with Taekwoon’s nightstand and Taekwoon’s mug sitting on top of it. The colours are a little odd, but a bit richer, sharper, and Hakyeon can’t say it’s a terrible view.

“How are you feeling?” Taekwoon asks urgently, touching his wrist, and Hakyeon nearly jerks his hand back in shock. Holy shit, he can feel Taekwoon’s touch.

“What’s going on?” he asks, voice shaking with shock. “What happened— where am I? Are we back home? What’s happened to me?”

“Easy,” Taekwoon soothes, and he carefully doesn’t touch Hakyeon again as Hakyeon slowly pushes himself upright on the bed. His palms are practically tingling with the sensations he can feel. “What do you remember?”

“The poltergeist,” Hakyeon blurts out, and Taekwoon grins, shaking his bangs out of his tired eyes. He looks like he’s barely slept. Had he been waiting for Hakyeon to wake up this whole time? “I jumped in front of it, and then...”

“You collided,” Taekwoon nods. “It was like someone set off an explosion. We got knocked aside, but it seems like the poltergeist’s energy couldn’t counter or corrupt yours, like it could with the various household objects in the cottage. From what we could see, you absorbed the malicious energy, purified it, and then... turned it into your own, in some way.”

“Whoa,” Hakyeon blinks. “I... I did not know I could do that?”

“Me neither,” Taekwoon admits. “But then again, nobody really knows how to categorize the powers of an imaginary friend anyway, but you’ve always existed in some kind of in-between, didn’t you? And you’re clearly stronger than you’ve let on, because you just sucked the damn thing dry and took its powers for your own.”

“I think it’s because I’ve faced one before,” Hakyeon whispers, and Taekwoon looks up to him with realization.

“Yeah,” Taekwoon says, a soft smile on his face. “And you won.”

“Of course I did,” Hakyeon huffs, running his fingers over the edge of the blanket. “You were in trouble. What kind of friend would I be if I couldn’t protect you?”

His fingers brush up against Taekwoon’s, and both of them go still. Hakyeon bites his lip, staring down at their hands in awe, and then Taekwoon reaches over. He laces their fingers together slowly, letting Hakyeon take the feeling in, and once all five fingers are linked, he lets out a giddy breath.

“You’re— you’re here,” Taekwoon stammers, like he couldn’t believe it himself. “I can feel your hand.”

“So can I,” Hakyeon nods, tentative excitement coursing in his veins. “Do you think— does this mean—?”

“You’re human,” Taekwoon breathes, eyes wide. “You turned yourself into a human, brought existence into yourself, with the energy you took from the poltergeist you defeated.”

“Holy shit,” Hakyeon blurts out, and Taekwoon bursts into peels of laughter. They sit together, holding hands and laughing, until Hakyeon feels his lungs burn for air and the happiness rise in his chest. He thinks he might bubble up and float away.

“The others are gonna love this,” Taekwoon says, his excitement evident as he squeezes Hakyeon’s hand. “Hongbin almost passed out when you appeared, and when we realized you had a body— this is amazing. I’m so happy you’re awake and you’re— you’re still you. You’re still my best friend, and I love you.” Taekwoon stutters to the end of his confession with a blush, and Hakyeon’s breath hitches.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks without preamble, managing to shock Taekwoon’s cheeks grow even darker. “Is that— would that be— okay?”

“Oh my god,” Taekwoon says, and he’s no longer holding Hakyeon’s hand. Instead, he’s cupping Hakyeon’s cheeks, thumbs brushing against the curve of his cheekbones, and Hakyeon’s heart hammers away in his chest as they lean into each other. “Of course. Of course you can, Hakyeon.”

Hakyeon wastes no time pressing their lips together after that.

+

End

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