#ghost!au

On your days off from being a guide for the dead, you prefer to stay in and disconnect from the outside world entirely. No after-hours working, no late nights writing, and no ghosts to worry about. 

That’s what you’d like to focus on, anyway, if your boss wasn’t blowing up your phone with emails essentially all saying the same thing: File your paperwork.

“Bureaucracy,” you mutter as you type away on your laptop. A movie rolls in the background as you detail the previous day’s events. While you understand the need to document the time, place, and method in which you shuttled spirits to their next stop in the afterlife, you hate writing reports. Referring to each spirit with a case number feels less like objective evidence and more like impersonal erasure of their history and personality from when they were alive.

You’ve gotten through three quarters of the way when your phone vibrates with a message from your coworker, Chenle.

Hey, wanna see a movie with me and Renjun later? It’s a new indie film that’s out. Ton of drama around it, apparently, but it’s getting great reviews. Breakout rookie, too.

You frown at your phone. You feel bad, since you end up turning down at least half of his requests to hang out, but you really do need this time to be alone. The surge in cases lately leaves you with little social capacity in your free time.

Sorry can’t make it, need to finish a report. You know I usually just go for re-runs, anyway. 

The response comes immediately: Rude, but I get it. What’s on for tonight? 

You hesitate. You could easily lie, but you opt to tell the truth. 

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind 

Wow, depressing, he responds, but somehow so you

You snort. I’m going to take that as a compliment. Have fun!

Another immediate response. You too. Sucks that you’re writing reports, but at least it will get Ten off your ass.

Your boss, Ten, continuously refers to you as one of his top performers, but you have a hard time believing it. You’re surprised that he still says it in the first place, considering you never finish reports on time and disagree with most of his suggested approaches. At this point, you’re surprised that the Spirit Hunters allow you to practice under their discretion.

You sigh for the millionth time as you add the final touches on your document. Shutting your laptop closed, you lean back against your couch and release a deep exhale. On days like these, you question if life will always be this cyclical and mundane. Work, evade, decompress, then always work again.

Then, your lamp on the end table crashes to the floor. You open your eyes to complete darkness in your apartment. 

A chill runs down your spine–the long, creeping kind that sends your instincts into high alert. You know this sensation well; you’re sure that you’re within the presence of a ghost. 

You fish in your pocket to get a hand on Renjun’s newest technology–supposedly the contraption could capture and contain ghosts, but you still haven’t put it to use. Such methods are usually too violent for your liking, even when they’re conveniently portable.

Still, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, and it can’t hurt to have something violent on hand. You fumble around in the dark until your hands find the lightswitch to the kitchen lights.

You brace yourself as your eyes adjust to the light, and you swing the hand holding Renjun’s invention back behind your head. There, hunched over the pieces of your broken lamp, is the wispy apparition of a man around your age. 

“Oh!” He says while looking over his shoulder. “I thought I could pick up the pieces while you looked for the lightswitch, but…” He looks down at the muted hues of his form. “I’m not very effective like this.”

You let out a deep breath of relief. Your shoulder lowers, and you place Renjun’s invention on the kitchen counter. “...Don’t worry about the lamp,” you say. “It’s just thrifted, anyway.”

The ghost’s shoulders relax. “Well, that’s a relief, then.”

Your brain takes in all of the facts in front of you. He holds his posture high and has a very clean cut appearance–styled hair, expensive watch–and he remains near your broken lamp with his hands tucked in his pockets. Paired with the strong structure of his face, he would give the impression of an intimidating man with influence–if it weren’t for his sheepish demeanor. His facial expression wide and head tilted, he reminds you of a dog waiting for his next command. 

“...What’s your name?” You ask.

“Jeno.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeno.” Your words come out clipped and light, like you’re talking to a child. “How did you find your way into my apartment?”

He squints at you. “I don’t know.”

“You…don’t know.” You wrinkle your nose. In almost every instance, you sought out the spirits of the dead yourself; the entire purpose for joining Ten’s agency was so that people called you in for help. Otherwise, it’s much too hard to find any organically. There had been one coincidence when a neighbor passed away a few doors down–you’d run straight into the ghost instead of the physical person in the hallway–but that was it. Never in all these years had a ghost sought you out first. Let alone spawn in the comfort of your own home. 

Jeno raises his palms in the air. “I only remember regaining consciousness in your kitchen just now. Nothing else.” 

You frown, although it’s more to yourself than at him. Amnesia? It’s not uncommon immediately following death, but you hadn’t encountered a case like this in a long time. 

Most souls are able to find their way off the mortal plane of their own volition. The stragglers left behind typically suffer from some form of unfulfillment; vengeful ghosts immediately seek out their target, and remorseful ghosts attach themselves to the closest connection of their regrets or unrealized dreams. On very rare occasions, you encounter true lost souls with no connection at all to their mortal selves. 

You can work with memory loss. However, that doesn’t answer your central question.

“Have we met somewhere before?” 

He shrugs. “If we have, I don’t remember.”

“Right,” you swallow. You’re sure that you’ve never seen or met this man in your entire life. Of all your loved ones that have already crossed over, you’ve never once been the target of one’s post-mortem attachment. Why now, with a complete stranger?

You cross your arms. “I understand that you’ve lost your memories, but is there really nothing else calling to you? No urge to find someone or something specific? Even if you don’t know exactly what that would be?”

“I was curious about where I ended up,” he hesitates. “I, uh, can’t make it too far away from you, though. I tried.”

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean?” 

“Stand by the front door and I’ll show you.” 

You shuffle to the door and linger at the entrance, arms crossed. Jeno floats through your living room and in the direction of the hallway leading to your bedroom, but he stops in place right before he makes it to the turn.

“I can’t go any farther,” he announces.

You don’t respond. Instead, you march back to your couch and open your laptop. You log into the Spirit Hunters’ internal portal and start parsing through archived case files. 

“...Tethered spirits…” you hum to yourself. “Hauntings, maybe?”

Jeno edges closer to you, although he maintains a respectful distance away. He eventually opts to float just above the seat of your armchair. 

“You’re actually very relaxed about my…state," he observes. “Everything, really.”

“Ah, my manners have left me.” You state your name. “You can consider me your guide, of sorts. I find and assist lost souls to find closure before moving onto the afterlife.” Your eyes squint at him. “You found me, though–for whatever reason.” 

Jeno blinks at you. “Not sure if this is just a gap in my memory, but are people who...help spirits...common knowledge?”

“Definitely not. Most people can’t see ghosts without some sort of assistive device,” you explain. “My sight is a family trait–I’ve been able to see the spirits of the deceased since birth.”

“That’s cool, I think. Well–having that sort of family tradition is definitely unique. There’s, um, just one thing…” Jeno bites his lip. “I’m not dead.” 

Goosebumps prickle on the surface of your skin. Denial is common, but something about his firmness unsettles you. You chalk it up to your least favorite part of the job–many newly deceased spirits are confused and unaware that they have partially transcended the mortal plane.

“If I’m seeing your spirit like this, then you must be dead,” you assert. Your heart sinks for him; you’ve broken the news to other metaphysical beings many times, but it doesn’t get any easier. “I know it might be hard to think about, but we can work together and figure out what you need.”

“What I need is for you to help me figure out who’s trying to kill me,” he says back. “Like I said, I’m not dead.”

“How are you sure that you’re not?” You ask calmly. “If you’re going to make bold claims, I need to know on what basis.”

“I–” He hesitates. “I just know.” 

You shoot him a half-smile. “That’s not evidence.”

Jeno doesn’t respond, crossing his arms and glaring at one of the far walls. 

Guilt flashes through you at the silent treatment, but you know the enforcement of cold, hard facts is a harsh reality that both of you need to face. Acknowledgement is the first step to acceptance for Jeno, and it does you no good to let yourself be swayed by the ghost’s emotional state. 

You close your laptop and rise to your feet. “That’s a wrap for me tonight. I’ll start on your case tomorrow.”  

You consider explicitly telling Jeno to stay out of your room while you sleep, but the stoic look on his face tells you that he’ll likely spend the entire night ruminating here. It’s clear, even from this brief interaction, that Jeno is not any form of vengeful or malicious ghost. He’s gentle, lost, and, for an inexplicable reason, now tied to you.

He doesn’t say a word as you make your way to your bedroom. Even as you get ready for bed and settle under the covers, you can’t shake the feeling that this case is different. Amnesia, a physical tether, and the persisting notion that he’s alive–something about Jeno’s case is rather supernatural, indeed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next day, things don’t go much better. Jeno sits–well, floats across from you as you cycle him through your typical procedural questions with the same result: no answers and no memories.

Strangely, he does recall current events with none of the emotional attachment. Sure, he remembers specific politicians and controversies, but he doesn’t have an opinion on the state of politics as a whole. Yes, he can objectively identify the biggest artists of this year, but the name of his favorite band remains just on the tip of his tongue. A normal member of society missing any personal history or attachments. 

“This time around, let’s just try associating certain concepts together. It might give us a hint about your personality,” you explain. “Or jog your memory. So, when I say a word, just say whatever comes to mind.”

Jeno nods. He looks miserable, and you’re sure that you’re not looking your best either. Hours of this have worn you both down, and you’re one failure away from jumping straight to the big guns.

Still, you have to try. “Love?”

“Nothing,” Jeno says.

“Death?” 

His eyes skip to you in open disapproval. “You’re kidding.”

“Death,” you repeat. 

He enunciates every word without breaking eye contact. “Nothing. Not dead.”

You click your tongue. “Family.”

“Annoying.” 

“There’s something.” You type a few notes into your laptop before shutting it closed. You shoot a quick text on your phone before packing up your things to go.  

“What, you’re not going to ask me about any other words?” Jeno snorts. He floats higher and higher as he gets more riled up. “Murder? Afterlife? Girlfriend?” 

“A guy that looks like you would enjoy bragging about the success in your love life, huh?” You reply without looking up from your phone, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re clearly not receptive, which makes the exercise useless. Your mind’s blocked.” 

“Of course it’s blocked–I don’t remember anything!” Jeno argues while waving his arms for emphasis. At this point, he’s risen so high that his back is parallel with the ceiling. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

“Hmm.” Now that’s something you could work with. “So no urge to find someone important?”

“Uh,” Jeno looks away, and a faint gray-pink color fills his cheeks. “No, I don’t think so.” 

You smile in spite of your frustration. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the shy type. You look like a total womanizer.”

He wrinkles his nose. “As if.” 

“Well, you can test the shy act on my friend.” You put on a coat at the door and grab your bag. 

He descends from the ceiling to follow you. “Is there someone else who can see me?” 

“Yup. You just gotta know someone with the right lineage. Or tools,” you add. “Lucky for you, I have a large network of special abilities in both.” 

No thanks to the Spirit Hunters, you think to yourself. 

While the Spirit Hunters connected you with new talent like Chenle and Renjun to work with, most of your contacts were from your childhood. Families with abilities tend to stick together, and your family has been close to the Liu family for generations.

Yangyang’s current place sits in the center of the city via a fifteen minute walk from your apartment. You walk up the stairs and place your hand on the doorknob without hesitation.

“Shouldn’t you knock?” Jeno’s voice is laced with confusion. 

“I texted him,” you say, as if that explains everything.

“Yangyang!” You call out while walking through the front door. “I brought the ghost I was talking about!” 

“In here!” He calls back from the kitchen around the corner. There’s a faint burning smell permeating the air. You take a deep breath; lavender and cinnamon, possibly. The aroma is comforting, at first, but it quickly transitions to too much as you feel pressure building in your nose.

“Good god, get some ventilation in here!” You cover your nose and side eye Jeno. “...Think you can open some windows?”

Jeno rolls his eyes, but all nearby windows slide open. 

“Thanks.” You walk into Yangyang’s kitchen. He’s hovering over a large kitchen pot on the stove. The contents are so green that your eyes squint from the bright light emitting from the liquid. He stirs at the concoction with a wooden spoon.

“I thought you would be, you know, actually cooking something,” you say as you lean against his fridge. “Until I smelled the lavender. I’m still confused on how such a talented witch can be so good at potions but so bad at cooking.”

“Witches are real?” Jeno asks, his mouth agape. 

“You know I don’t consider myself a witch.” Yangyang points the wooden spoon at your face. “Do you want me to help you or not?”

“Sorry.” You bow so low that your head passes the plane of the countertop. “Please assist me, grand sorcerer.”

Yangyang shakes his head and turns off the stove. He transfers the pot away from the still-hot burner. “This is why I’m your only friend. Go sit down in the living room.”

“Chenle and Renjun are my friends,” you spit back as you settle into a space on the floor in front of his couch. “Kind of.” 

“Doesn’t count since they’re technically your coworkers, and you barely see them outside of work,” he says as he drifts into the room. Yangyang finds a spot in the space across from you. His gaze locks onto Jeno, who’s still hovering near the kitchen. “Please, sit down.”

“I can’t sit,” Jeno replies.

Yangyang points to the space next to you. “Hover in front of me, then.”

Jeno does as he’s told. 

“This only works if my intentions are properly set,” Yangyang explains to Jeno. “My name is Yangyang, and I’m going to sense and tap into your energy.”

“What…does that mean?” Jeno asks. He looks at you, brow furrowed and puzzlement burning in his eyes, but you merely smile back in amusement.

Yangyang doesn’t answer. Your friend takes out a green bundle and lights the end of it. The tips of the plant burn a small flame, which Yangyang immediately blows out to leave smoldering ends. Yangyang traces the plant around the space with his eyes closed.

Jeno turns to you now. “What on earth is he doing?”

“It’s rosemary and sage,” you say without taking your eyes off the building smoke. “He’s purifying the space and ensuring there’s no outside negative energy that can interfere with his reading. Just stay put when he focuses.”

To Jeno’s credit, he doesn’t say anything else as Yangyang focuses in silence. You close your eyes, too–your family had always hoped for a secondary gift outside of clairvoyance for you, but sight ended up being your singular ability. Yangyang was considered gifted within his family lineage; he came from two prominent sorcerer families and manifested abilities from both. You enjoy basking in other people’s talents, even if only for a moment.

You open your eyes and peek to your right, only to find Jeno already staring at you. You’re taken off guard by how beautiful his features are up close. Given that his current state leaves him partially translucent, you can only imagine how good looking he must be in person with full saturation.

You raise an eyebrow. Yes? You mouth.

He looks away.

“Alright,” Yangyang says before you can tease Jeno further. “Ready?”

“Been ready,” you grin. 

Yangyang glares at you–he always insists on being professional during readings, even though you’ve been friends for so long–but he continues. “Your energy is very faint, but genuine and steady. From what I’m able to ascertain, you’re a reliable person that’s sensitive to those around you.” 

You lean forward. “What do you mean by faint?” 

“Usually those with a low sense of self have an aura fainter than others. For example, yours is so strong that it’s distracting and kind of annoying.” He eyes you, and you stick out your tongue at him. “Jeno’s energy is abnormal, considering that everything else about it seems very consistent and strong. I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t have most of his memories–if any.” 

You roll your head back and groan. “Sense of truth?”

“Steadfast.”

“General aura essence?”

“Fluffy, somehow,” Yangyang says with a straight face. 

Your impression of Jeno as a curious puppy from last night pops back in your head. You burst into laughter. 

Jeno’s head whips between the two of you. “You thought I was lying about losing my memories?!”

“Not lying, necessarily. Confused, maybe. Nothing personal–just something I like to confirm. Ghosts aren’t exactly the best primary sources, even if you think you’re telling the truth.” You wave your hand over his shoulder as you make a patting motion. “Yangyang, are there any other energies present that you can detect?” 

“Nothing on you,” Yangyang squints at Jeno next. “Him…I don’t immediately see anything else present, but I’m feeling something. It’s subtle, but somewhere else. Maybe he was cursed when he was still alive, and now there’s a trace of it left with his spirit.” 

You squint at Jeno. “Any curses you know about?”

He shakes his head.

“Thought so.” You start to rise onto your knees. “Thanks, Yangyang–”

“Wait,” Jeno interrupts. “Are you able to tell if I’m still alive?”

Yangyang’s eyes widen. “You think you’re alive?”

You wish that Jeno had a physical mouth for you to cover. Sure, you trust Yangyang with your life, which is why he’s always one of your go-to consultants, but it’s bad practice. Other resources aren’t so trustworthy. It could take only a few whispers of this through your line of work for this case to escalate out of your grasp. 

“I have no evidence,” Jeno says. Deep lines accompany his frown; he must’ve taken your words from the other night to heart. “I just have a feeling that it’s not over.”

“I see.” Yangyang focuses on Jeno’s form again, but then deflates. “Sorry. As I am, my abilities can’t differentiate between the living and the dead since I focus on energies. Your energy is essentially the same foundation during and after life, so I can’t tell the difference.”

Jeno’s shoulders slump forward. “I should’ve figured. Thank you anyway.”

As you rise to stand, Yangyang squares his shoulders to the two of you. The expression on his face is resolute and firm. “Be careful.”

“Be careful?” You frown. “I thought Jeno was safe. Fluffy, even.” 

“He is. It’s the trace of that other…thing that makes me nervous.” Yangyang shakes his head. “Just…be careful while you do your usual due diligence. I’m probably just paranoid.”

“I appreciate it. I’ll be careful,” You respond with a small smile. You continue your path toward Yangyang’s door, calling over your shoulder. “Again, thanks for the help. Invoice Ten for me, would you?”

“How you hold down this job is beyond me,” Yangyang rolls his eyes. “I got it.” 

You continue your path down the sidewalk directly outside of Yangyang’s house. You’d been able to respond with an easy confidence to his face, but now dread swirls around in your gut. A potential trace of a curse still present after death and Yangyang’s cleansing? What exactly are you dealing with?

Jeno catches your attention again. He’s floating next to you at an equal pace to your stride. He stares across all the details of your face. “Are you feeling anxious after what Yangyang said?”

“Obvious, huh?” You huff, but you look away. You don’t know how you feel about Jeno’s propensity for reading your emotions less than twenty-four hours after meeting. “There’s a lot of weird details surrounding your case that I’ve barely seen in my career. Let alone wrapped up in one ghost.”

Jeno puffs out his chest. “Maybe because I’m not dead.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Or maybe your living self messed up a ton of things before passing on, and neither of us realize that we’ve been set up to clean up the mess.” 

“Harsh,” he mutters. 

“Anyway, look,” you say to him. “Notice anything weird?”

He tilts his head. “We’re…in a garden?”

You’re standing in the middle of the community garden closest to Yangyang’s house. The area is so lush that it appears more tropical-like with bright pops of flowers juxtaposing against deep green. You can see rows of vegetables in planters budding from a stone’s toss away, and the surrounding area is completely devoid of people. A wooden gazebo sits in the center of the garden with brown doors closing off the opening.

“As your guide, I know you’re not ready yet,” you state. “However, I do feel as though it’s my duty to acquaint you with the door to the next life.”

Jeno stays quiet, although his outline drifts a few feet away from the wooden structure.

“For those in the mortal plane without sight or the tools to see, this gazebo appears as a fountain,” you explain. “When souls are stuck on earth, this is the one-way door that allows them to pass forward.” 

“If it’s one-way, then does anyone know what happens if you were to pass through?”

“I can see it and open the gate, but I can’t go through it.” You swipe your hand at his arm, but the limb passes through his forearm easily. “Like this, kind of. I tried. I just pass in and out.” 

Jeno stares at your hand protruding through his, as if he’s just registered his state as a ghost. 

“I’m not ready,” he says. He glances at the gazebo sidelong, his form hovering a couple of inches higher.

“I know.” 

“If you’re able to open it,” he hesitates. “What’s stopping you from using one of those machines and forcing me to the other side?”

He’s smart. Other spirits were usually more blindly trusting in you, but you can respect his need to ensure your honesty. “My practice forbids it. Our entire mission is built on acting as true guides and allowing the spirits to retain their free will.” 

Jeno tilts his head. “Our? So there’s a lot of you, then.”

You flinch. You hadn’t meant to let it slip at all, but old habits were hard to break. “There used to be, a few generations ago. I’m the only one left practicing, and most of my coworkers say I’m doing it the hard way.”

Jeno thinks before speaking. “It’s the hardest, maybe, but it’s the most humane.” 

You eye the gazebo’s structure. All of your coworkers treat it as the endgame for their missions. For you, however, it’s your past, present, and future. You visited first as a child, face it constantly in your direct line of work, and, when it’s your time, will eventually walk through it yourself. It’s something unexplainable, to have this door between lives interlinked with your own various life stages. “Doing this is the most humane way, yes, but also the most painful.” 

Jeno must catch on to the bittersweet tone in your voice, since he hangs on your last words.

Instead, you clear your throat. “I just wanted to show you the door. Tomorrow’s another day, and we can use it to try and find who you are.” 

You finally tear your gaze from the gazebo, only to find Jeno’s brown eyes roaming over you. “Thank you,” he says.

You smirk, reaching desperately for your usual humor. “For literally taking you to death’s door?”

“For taking the painful way. It makes all the difference for me, at least.” 

Heat rises and spreads across your chest so fast that your eyes widen. Jeno’s smile is small, yet the warmth and gratefulness is so genuine that any witty response dies in your throat. For the first time in years, you fight back the urge to cry. You don’t let yourself. 

“Thanks, Jeno.” You swallow the lump building in your throat. “I hope it pays off for both of us.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sun’s barely risen over the horizon when you crack open your laptop to work. You’re sifting through tens of cases for some sort of lead–recently concluded hauntings, curses, or even reports of possessions in the area. All that turns up, unfortunately, are mild cases; nothing as ominous as Yangyang suggested. 

“Still in your pajamas?” Jeno asks when you enter the living room in a daze.

“Huh,” you glance at the bright sunlight glaring through your windows, then at the plaid print of your pajama pants. “That’s a first.” 

He frowns. “So this isn’t normal?” 

The undercurrent of his question is obvious: What’s wrong with my case? Do I even have a chance? 

“The pants are comfy,” you answer quickly, then change the subject. “Did leaving the TV on last night work?”

To help alleviate Jeno’s restlessness at ghosthood amidst being trapped in a small apartment, you’d experimented with multiple stimuli. Last night’s solution was to simply leave the TV running overnight, as to allow Jeno to at least focus on anything else. 

“Actually, yes–wait,” he interrupts himself. “Don’t try to distract me. It’s not going well, is it?”

You sigh. “All cases take time, Jeno.” 

“But I’m guessing that most cases don’t keep you up at night like this,” he shoots back. “Or take this long.” 

It’s true; it’s been weeks since Jeno first appeared in your apartment, and you still don’t have a lead. Along with analyzing real-time reports, you’d tried to dig into his identity. You figured Jeno’s name would fare better than no name at all, considering his name’s uniqueness, but it hadn’t changed things in the slightest. You couldn’t find any records of a Jeno living in this city, and typing Jeno into search engines only popped up unrelated results and suggestions of Did You Mean: Juno?

You cross your arms. “Not knowing your identity does set me back. It just means I need to be creative.”

He crosses his arms back. “You’re not looking very creative.”

Your feet shuffle as you shift your weight back and forth. The time spent together has done nothing to acclimate you to Jeno’s earnest nature nor his intuition. He never once buys into the laidback and composed persona that you’ve crafted to keep your vulnerabilities shielded from others. At times, you feel as though it’s some sort of otherworldly trade-off; you see through his physical form, and in turn he’s able to see through you. All of you, it seems. 

Even now, staring at each other in tense silence, you don’t know what to make of it. For someone in an amnesiac ghost state, he’s awfully more concerned with you over himself. It’s annoying, especially when the amnesiac ghost in question becomes more emboldened to sass you with each passing day.

You’re grateful when your phone vibrates on the table, allowing you to break the moment.

“Renjun,” you say, scratching at the back of your neck. “What’s up?”

“Hey.” Renjun’s somber voice over the phone immediately evokes your alertness. “I know you’re busy investigating that one ghost, but something’s come up.”

“What happened?” You walk to your room and start laying out work clothes for the day. Even Jeno, who prefers to stay away from your room, lingers in the doorway. 

Renjun takes a long, shaky breath over the phone. “There’s been a call, and I think you should be the one to take it.”

A cold shock shoots up your arms. “Personal?”

“...Yes.” 

Your throat constricts, and you forget to breathe before rasping out: “Who?”

“Your cousin,” Renjun says. “Sana. She was recently spotted in the cafe on Main and 3rd. She’s showing signs of being vengeful, but I was hoping that maybe…”

Death’s door flashes in your mind’s eye. “I understand. I'll check it out.”

Your body moves on its own to change and gather all of the necessary equipment. It’s you driving and going through the motions, but you barely register that it’s happening until you pull in front of the cafe. The entire block has been closed down, and Renjun waits for you outside.

“Hi.” He manages a grim smile. “She’s driven out all of the level one hunters. I wanted to give you the chance to handle this in the way you want to, considering you’re her next of kin.”

Jeno’s followed your silence since ending the phone call with respect, but now you feel his eyes linger on you.

You ignore it. “I appreciate it,” you say to Renjun. “I’m going to try to de-escalate, but I’ll call you in if…it’s unavoidable.” 

Your friend nods, but the discomfort on his face is clear as day.

You slowly turn the handle and press the weight of your arm into the door. It creaks open to a dim room lit only by the outside sunlight leaking through half-open blinds. Your cousin, Sana, perches on top of the counter next to an espresso machine. You take cautious steps towards her until you’re standing in the center of the room.

“Took you long enough,” she smiles. “Brought a friend too?” 

You think she means Renjun, but you follow her gaze to Jeno lingering by the entrance. His body is bisected by the door itself so that you’re only looking at his right side. Immediately, you understand what’s happening.

“You can just come in,” you assert. “There’s no avoiding it.”

Sana raises her eyebrows. “A tether?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’ sound. “Enough about him, though. Don’t you think terrorizing a bunch of new hunters is a little cruel? They’re basically kids.” 

“How else was I supposed to get your attention?” She rolls her eyes. “I was hoping to create a tether with you, but I guess that spot was already taken. I got stuck here, instead.” 

“Sorry,” Jeno pipes up from his corner. 

You grit your teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me it was time? You promised.” 

You’d known that your cousin only had so much time left–she’d already surpassed the initial prognosis, but the extra time had lulled you into complacency. 

She shrugs. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I could barely swallow, let alone speak. This is a much easier avenue.”

“It’s not easy for me,” you choke out. 

“I’m going to the door right after this. Alone, as I promised you.” Sana's eyes soften. “This is just to say goodbye, really.”

Panic rises to your chest. 

Months ago, you’d rehearsed the things you would say to her. At the time, you had a million drafts of a million speeches: some reminiscing on your shared memories, others promising to live on for her, and the angriest picking at old fights. Anything to stall the inevitable. Now that Sana’s ghost smiles at you, wispy outline and all, you don’t know what to say.

“I don’t know how to do this alone,” you blurt into the silence. 

“When you think about it, we really didn’t work together much.” Sana reasons with you. “Your sight was always sharper than mine, anyway.”

“You know what I mean.” Flashes of your memories cause your emotions to heighten. “When I lost my parents, then yours, then everyone else one-by-one, you were right there by my side. We were supposed to make it together.”

Her voice comes out soft. “I know.”

The room is so quiet that you can hear your own breath, but you press forward. “I know you fought hard, but I needed you here more. Who am I to maintain this practice alone? I might as well just go too.”

That makes Sana leave the countertop and float to your side. Before you know it, a cool sensation washes over the back of your neck. Sana makes a stroking motion against your hair, although her hand freezes your skin with each pass through.

“You know, you never said any of this to me when I was alive,” she says softly. “Not when I was sick, and not when I was improving.”

“It wasn’t about me.”

“To me, everything was about you. You always carried yourself well, even after losing your parents, and you picked up the family business like it was the easiest thing in the world. Leading the souls and breaking the tie, or whatever the old geezers used to say.” 

“Lead the soul, break the tie,” you sniffle. “I never did that properly. It’s too hard for me. Not that anything else came easy, either.”

“It is hard,” she agrees. “And this won’t be easy, either. You have to promise me that you’ll find someone to bear this burden with you. Don’t try to do things alone this time.”

“It’s going to be impossible to find someone crazy enough to want anything to do with my real life,” you scoff.

For a flash of a moment, Sana’s eyes dart at something over your shoulder. “I’m sure that person is closer than you think. The most important thing is that you let them in.”

“Fine.” You wipe away your tears with an angry glare. “I hate you for not staying with me, and I hate you for using your last moments to boss me around. And…”

“...And?”

“I love you too much to ignore what you say,” you finish. “I’ll try.”

“There you go,” she coos. 

You both stay like that for a while. You sniffle while Sana strokes your head to comfort you. Despite the ice-cold feeling following her every touch, it’s comforting nonetheless.

“I’m going now,” Sana announces softly when your tears have finally dried up.

Your head snaps up. “You really don’t want me to go with you to the door?”

She shakes her head. “You’ve done enough for others. I can handle it.” 

Just like that, Sana nods in acknowledgment to Jeno in the corner before floating to the entrance, as if to actually open the door. 

“I love you!” She calls out with a wide grin. Her outline seems to glimmer with gold hues, but you’re sure it’s a trick of the light. “Tell your friend not to chase me down with that weird contraption, okay?”

You and Jeno both report your witness statements to Renjun, who graciously offers to write the report and file the paperwork. The numbness in your body follows you home and through your whole post-work routine. The tears come back only when you curl in bed, comforted by the soft sheets and distant white noise of the TV you don’t remember turning on.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stumble through your front door after another wasted day of investigation. You’d followed what you thought was a lead on Jeno’s family, but, like always, it had led to a dead end. 

“It’s okay,” Jeno floats around you. “I thought that would work too.” 

Lately, Jeno had stopped moping about his current state. In fact, he maintains a steady sense of cheerfulness that bewilders you. You suspect that the sudden spike of optimism after Sana’s passing is more than coincidental, but you see no worth in asking directly. Who are you to stop something that puts you both at ease? 

Plopping on the couch and kicking your feet up on the coffee table, you browse through movie options endlessly until you hover on a classic.

“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” Jeno reads out loud. “That title seems too long.” 

Your jaw drops. “You’re joking.” 

He shrugs. “I haven’t seen it.” 

“Well now we’re watching it,” you state while starting the movie. “It’s a bit of a weird one, but it’s good.”  

You manage to stay quiet throughout the entire movie, opting to watch Jeno’s reactions to all of your favorite parts. It’s like watching it with fresh eyes, in a way, to see his nose scrunch up at some moments and his jaw hang open during the twists.

When the credits roll, you lean forward and finally let yourself speak. “What did you think?” 

“Good.” Jeno crosses his arms without taking his eyes off the screen. “More philosophical than I realized it would be.”

“Since you have a unique perspective on this, what’s your take?” If it were anyone else, you’d never ask this question, but you’re well acquainted with Jeno’s openness. “If you found out that your amnesia was due to intentionally blocking painful memories, what would you do?” 

“I would ask for them back,” he answers without hesitation. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Every time?”

“Every time.”

“Why?”

“Well,” he pauses. “Even though I don’t remember most things, I do know that the sum of all my memories made me who I am. Good and bad. It’s worth remembering both.”

“Interesting,” you murmur.

In all honesty, you’re jealous of how resolute and instant his answers are. For all of the poking and prodding at Jeno that you’ve done since meeting him, he’s never once wavered in giving you an answer. Beneath the sweet and shy exterior is always a stubborn, decisive guy. 

“This is the movie you were watching on the day we met, right?” He asks suddenly.

“Yes.” You’re not sure why your mouth won’t stop moving, but you add, “It’s my go-to movie for tough cases that are family or romance heavy.” 

“Go-to movie?”

“It’s just a tradition. Sometimes movies are the only thing that can get me to wind down and sleep, so I watch a movie that reminds me of the ghost I just worked with.” You don’t mention that this tradition in particular was started by Sana in your teen years. It feels good to talk about her, even if it’s indirect. 

“Huh,” he thinks for a moment. “What would my movie be?”

“Casper,” you respond. 

“The friendly ghost?” 

You nod. “Except you’re Jeno, the even-friendlier ghost.” 

His face puckers, but he doesn’t let your teasing derail his seriousness. “You never watched one after Sana,” he points out.

You click through the list of movies, as if to pick something else. “This works, doing it now.” 

He watches you for a second. “Would you choose to keep your memories?” 

“It’s different circumstances for me,” you say. “I would choose my family every time, no matter how painful it is for me. I’m not supposed to, technically–a main pillar of our work is covered by one mantra: Lead the soul, break the tie. So I shouldn’t, but I carry them with me every day. I could never forget them.” 

Jeno nods without responding, which makes hot embarrassment climb up your neck. Were you too honest? When did you become comfortable being so vulnerable and sentimental in front of him? 

You cough and continue. “I don’t care about romantic partners, though. They can erase that any day.” 

“What?” Jeno blinks. “Isn’t that the whole point of the movie we just watched?”

“I just haven’t cared enough about any of them,” you shrug.

Jeno stares at you, bewildered. “Okay, so you dated, but have you never been in love?”

You let it slip before you realize what you’re saying. “Maybe not, but I was close. Once.”

There’s something about Jeno’s presence that feels as though all of your inhibitions have eroded away. All that’s left is you, pouring the stories so long held close to your chest.

“He was normal. No sight, but his mom was a Spirit Hunter so he kind of knew the deal. He liked me because I was different. Then…”

Jeno waits for you to continue. “Then?”

The rest of your words burst out. “Then I lost family members one-by-one, whether in the line of work or by natural causes, and suddenly I was too different. Too freakish to love.” You let out a slow exhale. “Told me as much and said I was cursed.”

Jeno says nothing, but his hands ball into fists until they’re shaking. His arm muscles cord with the increased tension.

“It’s okay,” you anticipate his defensiveness over you with a grin. “I punched him in the face.” 

“Thank god.”

“But I’ve rambled too much about my loser ex,” you sigh. Your hand fiddles with the edge of your shirt. “Can’t say it’s that intriguing; more so sad.”

“Well, I don’t know. Punching your loser ex is intriguing enough to me,” Jeno smiles. “Besides, you’re an interesting person overall. You command everyone’s attention pretty much immediately.”

It’s his innocent moments that feel like the low hanging fruit for you to mess with him. “Sounds like it’s more that you’re the one paying attention,” you grin. “You interested?”

You’re expecting him to roll his eyes at you or change the subject away, as always. Instead, Jeno leans forward, an equally mischievous smile widening across his face. “And what if I am?”

You recoil at the proximity, yanking your head back as if he could actually steal a kiss. Your heartbeat roars in your ears as butterflies frenzy in your stomach.

For one thing, you’re not used to this level of engagement. Most of your friends laugh and roll their eyes at your antics, but they never flirt back. For another thing, it’s the distinct seriousness in his eyes that tells you he’s not joking. Any trace of puppy-like innocence found before has settled into a cool confidence.

“I would tell you…that sucks because you’re a ghost,” you say lamely. The words come out much too fast to pass as an organic joke. You’ve totally lost.

Jeno laughs regardless. “Something tells me that our dynamic wouldn’t change much.”

“If you weren’t a ghost?” You scoff, finding your footing. “You think that our dynamic wouldn’t change if you weren’t a ghost forced to be within a 20-foot radius of me?”

“You might not know what to do,” he shoots back. “I’m just saying that my feel–attitude toward you wouldn’t change. I’d act the same. In person, with memories–anything.” 

You don’t know that for sure, you think bitterly, but heat rises up your body.

“You pick the next one,” you say as you throw the remote at him. 

Jeno moves on easily from your back and forth, unfazed as he uses his abilities to flip through the streaming options. “I kind of want to watch something new,” Jeno says with raised eyebrows. “Will that mess up your re-run routine?”

It’s the small details that make you feel seen. You tuck your legs up and hug your knees into your chest. “Since you watched one of my movies, I’ll allow a new viewing. Just for tonight,” you say with a sniff. “I’m feeling adventurous.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Once your grief shifts from a sharp sting to a faint thrum, you decide to take a break from the safety of your apartment. 

“You’re going spirit hunting while I’m still tied to you?” Jeno asks.

“Just because you’re in denial doesn’t mean that I need to halt the rest of my work,” you huff while preparing your equipment. “And don’t phrase it like I’m hunting to kill. I’m responding to a call, thank you.” 

Jeno rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Ghostbuster.” 

It’s not uncommon for you to work on multiple cases at once, but Jeno’s tether had kept you rather preoccupied. You’re really not working one of your normal jobs, anyways–for the first time in years, Chenle has asked for backup on a call he received the night before.

“Thanks for making it,” Chenle grins at you when you step out of your car. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have the immediate support of my favorite Psychic Psychologist in case this goes left.”

“Funny.” You toss him a pair of goggles. “You’re lucky that I still carry a pair even though I don’t need it.” 

“That’s why I like working with you, despite your creepy spirit connections. You’re always prepared.” Chenle fumbles with the goggles, adjusting the straps as he’s putting them on. When he finally gets himself situated, he does a double take at the apparition over your shoulder. “Did you pick up a hitchhiker on the way here or something?”

“Jeno.” He says. “Nice to meet you.”

“...Chenle.” Your coworker looks at you with wide eyes. “Are you sure you want him here?” 

Right. You don’t know what you were expecting; for the first time, the gossip train has failed Chenle. Renjun must have withheld the information due to Sana, and there’s no other way Chenle could have found out. He never consulted sorcerers, ruling out YangYang, and you’d been decisively behind on your paperwork.

“I can’t leave him anywhere else, even if I wanted to,” you supply. “He’ll deal with it.” 

Chenle blinks once. Twice. “I’ve heard about tethers, but I never thought I’d actually see one. Considering, you know…” 

“Considering you kill on sight?”

“Hey,” Chenle raises his hands in surrender. “They’re already dead.” 

A familiar twinge of annoyance pulls at your gut. While Chenle’s a good guy overall, his philosophy reflects that of most Spirit Hunters; concise yet total subjugation of the spirit. In other words, the complete opposite of you. 

You’re about to fire back, but Jeno beats you to it. “I prefer not being killed on sight, personally.” 

His interruption just stokes your anger further. “I would prefer if everyone would just focus on the issue at hand without wasting my time.”

“Wow,” Chenle snorts and glances over at Jeno. “Good luck, man. Seems like she’s a lot meaner to you than her usual clients.” 

“Still pleasant enough overall,” Jeno shrugs as he brushes it off. 

You ignore their comments and turn your attention to the empty department store in front of you. “What’s the deal here? I didn’t have time to look at the case file.” 

“Reports of some haunted rooms.” Chenle says, his face turning serious. “Female ghost, apparently, and it’s bad enough that it’s impacted their business. According to some talks I had with the neighbors, the girl had a secret relationship with the owner’s son.”

“So, a jilted lover.” You frown. “You can’t handle that by yourself?”

Chenle hesitates before talking at a slow cadence. “It’s really just one aspect…”

You raise your eyebrows. “Out with it, or I’m leaving.”

“She attacks anyone on sight,” your coworker admits. “Full steam ahead with complete tunnel vision. It makes it impossible for someone to take her alone…”

“...which is why you’ve asked for backup,” you finish. “Lovely. If you knew you just needed bait, you should’ve asked one of the juniors.”

“It was an open invitation to all. I just happened to call you first, and you opted to volunteer despite being on another job.” Chenle’s eyes flit back over to Jeno as he frowns. He doesn’t seem quite sure what to make of the ghost. While Renjun had a lot of direct interactions with benign ghosts due to his research for his inventions, Chenle had no interest in anything except catching the worst of the worst.

You sigh. “He’s coming regardless, so you might as well get used to it.” You do one last check of your equipment before talking over your shoulder to Jeno directly. “This is going to be a massive change in pace, so don’t freak out. I’m going to be the diversion, and Chenle’s going to use that opportunity to capture the spirit from behind.”

“Isn’t this game plan for me to dictate?” Chenle whines.

You ignore him. “Just don’t put yourself in the direct path, okay? I haven’t seen Renjun’s device in action, so just be careful enough that you don’t get sucked in.” 

“Got it, but…” Jeno purses his lips. “What about you?”

“Once again, this is my job.” You put your hands on your hips, but you can’t help the small smile that rises to your face. “I have Yangyang’s ward and some of my own techniques. Trust the process.” 

Jeno hums, but you can tell that he’s actively doubting the process.

You’re about to ask what else is on his mind–after all, he’s really been so different, lately–but Chenle interrupts you by loudly clearing his throat.

“The sensors are showing she’s on the second floor in one of the dressing rooms,” Chenle informs you. “Head up first; I’ll be close behind.” 

“How brave,” you joke before taking off into a jog. “See you inside, then!”

While you’d expected the usual ambiance of a haunted building–dark and eerie–the store lights overhead burn your eyes upon entering. The business in question must be a department store, as you pass clothing racks and shoe displays on your way up. The only thing that reveals the inoperability is the lack of customers along with the stationary escalator. Even a faint hum of elevator music bounces off the white walls and vinyl floors.

As your feet tap tap tap against the metallic escalator steps, you feel a cool sensation intermittently brushing against your arm. You pause at the very top to peer behind yourself, only to see the muted color of Jeno’s hand grasping for your wrist.

“You realize doing that only distracts me, right?” You whisper. “I’m not stopping.”

“I think you took this job too soon,” Jeno says in a low voice. He’s so close that his hand passes through your arm, and he leans toward you so that the left side of his chest slightly overlaps your right. 

The coolness bites at your skin, and your breath catches. “I’m fine. It’s not your decision to make, regardless.”

“Regardless, I know you, and I know you’re not okay.”

It’s a standoff as you glare at each other. His eyes drift over your face with an intensity that makes your heart rate spike. For a moment, even within this strange liminal space, Jeno commands all your focus. From the deep shade of brown eyes up close, the turn of his cupid’s bow, and the defined contours of his face, your thoughts are scattering. You wish, with a sudden and jarring impulse, that his physical body was here–whether for the purpose of pushing him away or pulling him close, you’re unsure. 

The moment breaks as a loud crash echoes from across the second floor. You curse and crouch behind the nearest rack filled with floor length dresses.

You inch a hanger along to peek through the mound of dresses. Across the way is the outline of a young woman emerging from one of the dressing rooms. She’s rather petite for a malignant ghost, but you have the sneaking suspicion that something is off.

Chenle sneaks behind a display on the other side of the escalator. He turns off the safety on Renjun’s device and glances over at you, nodding when you lock eyes. 

Here goes nothing, you think.

“Hey!” You call out as you jump out of your hiding space.

The spirit raises her head to gaze at you, but she doesn’t move. 

You’re waving your arms out back and forth now. “Over here!”

Her head merely tilts as she stares at you wordlessly. You’re halfway through forming words to yell at Chenle that you’ve got it all wrong, dumbass when the spirit begins rapidly growing in size. 

“What the fuck?” Jeno gasps. 

It’s more than growing; her entire shape is shifting and morphing while darkening by the moment. It’s more than a ghost, you realize as its form oozes into an amorphous shape with a large, single eyeball in the center. 

It’s a wraith. 

After its transformation the wraith rests for a second. Then, it lunges.

Simultaneously, your nervous system kicks into high gear as your body moves on its own accord. You sprint in the opposite direction in a straight line; it’s the only place you can go, considering that Chenle’s whole plan hinges on attacking from the back.

Speaking of Chenle, you have no idea where he is. After erratic movements to evade the wraith and running for your life, there’s still no sign of your coworker. He’s late. 

You burn out. You’re fast, but the wraith gains on you as it screeches and bounds behind your every move. Your blood rushes in your ears and your lungs burn from the effort. You don’t have much left in you.

Then, finally, you hear a shout.

“Hang in there!” Chenle yells while pointing the capture technology from the distance. “Get in here, freak!”

You’re relieved, but the surprise of his presence causes you to misstep; you slip on the tile and stumble on the floor. 

The wraith nearly pulses in delight as it reaches for you. In this moment, you realize that there’s no way it’s in the range of Chenle’s weapon. The wraith is going to reach you before Chenle can get it. 

The dark mass swirls closer and closer towards you, until a flash of dull color partially obscures your vision. 

“Hey,” Jeno grins, moving back and forth laterally before floating up towards the ceiling. “This is a better target, right? More dynamic?”

Get out of the way, idiot, you want to scream, but the words don’t escape your dry throat. 

The wraith stops and follows his motions like a cat. Your fight-or-flight instincts are sure that it’s going to go back to you, the living target, but you gasp as it bounds after Jeno’s retreating figure. 

“Don’t fuck this up, Chenle!” You hear him call out as he flashes toward your friend.

“No, don’t!” You scream at the same time. At this point, your pleas are directed at both of them. For Jeno to stay uninvolved, and for Chenle to not deploy the capture technology with Jeno in its direct path.

Chenle unleashes the machine. The wraith shrieks as it swirls towards the device. A flash of bright light nearly blinds you as it deploys, and you’re forced to cover your face with your hands to protect your vision. 

It’s minutes before you’re able to open your eyes again. Dread weighs down your stomach, and you’re scared to see the results. You look up while holding your breath. 

The first thing you see is Chenle leaning against the railing next to the escalator. 

Chenle pants while shaking the cylindrical device around. “Got it,” he rasps.

The second thing you see is Jeno’s silhouette floating directly above Chenle’s head. His smile is victorious, albeit a little sheepish. 

“Got it,” he echoes.

You exhale hard as the rest of your body collapses to the floor. Jeno’s over in an instant, his face hovering over yours.

“Did it get to you at all?” He asks, worry lines wrinkling his forehead. 

You sit up, his question pulling you out of the energy drain. “Did it get to me?” You shriek. “You should’ve been worrying about it getting to you! Or Chenle getting you accidentally! Are you stupid? I told you to stay out of the direct path!” 

“Right,” he runs a hand through his hair, “but, well, I turned at the last minute. So, technically, floating above Chenle’s head was no longer within the direct path.” 

If looks could kill, you could’ve created three new spirits of the dead. 

Chenle crawls over to you. “Don’t be mad at him,” he says through heavy breaths. “He saved both of us.”

Shouts echo from the bottom floor, followed by the sounds of footsteps racing up the escalator.

You turn to Chenle, eyes wide, but he shakes his head. 

“I called more backup on the way up,” he explains. “The sensor’s readings were off the charts after we entered. Be mad at me if anything, but not Jeno.”

“I can be mad at all of you,” a familiar voice says. A blanket drops around your shoulders.

“Renjun!” You gasp as he wraps Chenle in a matching shock blanket.

“Let’s get you both out of here,” he mutters while bringing you both to your feet. You lean on his left shoulder while Chenle takes the right. “I’ll take all three of you idiots home.” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After a few days of recovery and a full spiritual cleansing from Yangyang, Chenle and Renjun visit your apartment to iron out the details of the report.

“This sucks,” Chenle complains. “This case has so much paperwork now.” 

“That’s what happens when you involve so many other people without getting the proper protocols and approvals first,” Renjun chides. “Including another ghost. Another ghost adds like three pages minimum, I swear.” 

“I’d help write if I could. Maybe I could try to use a keyboard with my influence?” Jeno offers.

Renjun shakes his head. “Not your job.” 

You stay quiet. You hadn’t said much, over the past few days. You’d slept pretty much the whole time, save for eating. Your coworkers forcing their way into your apartment was the most you’ve seen of anyone except for Jeno. 

Renjun eyes you. “You sure you’re good to meet right now?” 

You shake yourself mentally and force a smile to your face. “Peachy.” 

Your friend’s eyes squint at you, but he says nothing. 

In reality, everything is far from peachy. You’re mad at everyone–Renjun for forcing you to do paperwork after the experience, Jeno for putting himself at risk, and Chenle for making Jeno put himself at risk. Above everything, you’re the most frustrated with yourself. What kind of guide were you to be rescued by the spirit you’re meant to be guiding?

“Alright, no more long faces,” Chenle says while raising his hand in the air. “We finished it and lived to tell the tale. That’s an accomplishment!” 

You meet his high five with reluctant contact.

“Hell yeah,” Chenle cheers. He then stares at Jeno before also slowly raising his hand.

“Um,” Jeno stares at Chenle’s palm. “You sure?”

He nods. “Try it, dude.”

Jeno’s hand passes through Chenle, who shudders at the contact.

“They never mentioned how cold it is," he mutters. 

Jeno turns to you with a smile. “We make a pretty good team, huh? Who would’ve thought a ghost and spirit hunter combination would work?”

“Saying it worked is pretty generous,” you say. “We got lucky.”

“Well, in reality, you’re lucky that I was there,” Jeno points out.

The claim quickly devolves into an argument stretching between the two of you.

“I have a question!” Chenle interjects.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What is it, Chenle?”

“You don’t know Jeno’s full identity yet, right?” 

“...Not yet,” you confess. 

“Since you’ve been putting in all this research into his identity, is it safe to assume you’ve already checked his resemblance to that one actor? The one from the indie movie I was trying to get you to see?”

Your stomach drops. “You recognize him?”

“Kinda. Well, not for sure,” Chenle frowns. “He looks a lot like this breakout actor fans have been talking about.”

You type Jeno into the search bar. Nothing of substance. Next, your fingers type in Jeno followed by the movie name while your mind races. Sure enough, Jeno’s face finally pops up on the search results. There’s various pictures of him pulled from the movie or pap pictures taken on set, but there’s no images of him at any carpeted events.

You look at your supernatural companion. “You’re an actor?”

Jeno runs a hand through his hair by habit. While you’d seen him frustrated before, his expression is downright distraught. “I don’t know. Aren’t you the movie buff?”

“I gravitate towards my classics!” You defend yourself. “I see a new movie twice a year!”

“Usually because I suggest it,” Chenle chimes in. “You’re welcome.”

“Not now,” you hiss at him. You continue clicking around gossip forums and article titles until you find what you’re looking for. 

Debut Actor In Accident Prior to Film Festival, reads the article. His name isn’t mentioned at all, but a scroll down into the comments tell you the uncensored details—everything from Jeno's accident to the sudden death of his co-star on set weeks earlier.. Your heart spikes as you read through the details of what’s been reported, and you read everything in shock.

“You’ve been in a coma for months. You don’t live here, which is why I couldn’t find you, but you’ve been filming here. The day you got hit lines up with the day you showed up in my apartment,” you say even though Jeno’s been reading everything over your shoulder. Your entire face feels numb. “You’re hospitalized, but you’re alive.”

Silence weighs on the atmosphere. After all his stubbornness since appearing in your space, the Jeno from months ago would’ve pointed in your face and said I told you so. You would’ve expected and even accepted it. Now, he freezes in place. It’s only by the faint pulse of light emitted by his form that tells you he’s present. 

Jeno’s brow furrows. “I’m…alive?”

“You’re very much alive,” you nod. 

Any moment now, you think. A cheer or a glimmer of hope to brighten his face. 

Jeno doesn’t speak at first. His gaze goes somewhere you can’t follow—a flash of relief followed by panic.

His frown deepens. “What about you?”

Your heart jumps while your stomach plummets. Everything, every feeling, comes together in contradictory pairs. Tempered fondness tinged by dread. Hope amidst an ache you can’t pin down.

“What about me?” You repeat with bated breath. 

“I feel like we’ve been doing great,” he explains before pausing. “Working together, I mean. I was even able to help you and Chenle with the most recent case.”

Chenle clears his throat, and Renjun feigns interest in something on his computer screen.

“You shouldn’t be concerned with that,” you say. “I did all of this before you, and I will continue to do this after you.” 

“After me,” he holds the words in his mouth like he’s eating rotten fruit. 

“You’re alive,” you emphasize. “Isn’t that what you’ve been insisting this whole time?” 

“Well yes, but–” 

“There’s no but, Jeno,” you cut him off sharply. You don’t let him finish; you can’t let him finish. If he says what you think he’s going to say, then it will shatter the delicate control that you’ve struggled to maintain since he showed up in your apartment. “You are alive, which means that we must try to reunite your soul with your body.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Off the heels of finding out Jeno’s alive, Chenle and Renjun join the effort in trying to find any possible connection from his past. They never explain why, but your messages are now constantly flooded with new leads by the hour.

You don’t complain. You struggle to focus on anything, and Jeno’s not much better. You’ve barely talked since your initial argument following the news. 

Even now, about to meet up with Jeno’s sister, talking with your ghost companion is like pulling teeth. 

“Are there any topics you don’t want me to talk about?” You ask him on the car ride over.

“Not particularly,” he says back. “If we’re really going to try reuniting with my body at the hospital today, all of these questions might not even be necessary.”

Thanks to Chenle’s effort, Jeno’s older sister had agreed to meet you at a nearby cafe to his current hospital. You’re not quite sure what to expect, but if things went well Jeno might have the real possibility of reuniting with his body.

You’ve dressed in your most professional outfit, as if you work a normal office job. You’ve rehearsed what you should open with–something formal without coming off as suspicious. 

Instead, when she sees your face, Jeno’s sister says your name first as she shakes your hand. “I think your colleague said you were some sort of reporter, but you’re a spirit hunter, right?”

You gape at her. “Erm…yes in name, but how did you…?”

“Jeno was looking into contacting you,” she explains. “Before his accident, that is.”

It takes every fiber of your self-control to not turn to look at Jeno himself. You clear your throat before responding. “He was?” 

She nods. “He was convinced something was haunting him on set. He seemed hell bent on reaching out to you after they wrapped, but then he got hit right after.” 

“I see,” you say with a calmness you don’t really feel. “Is there anyone in his life that passed away before his accident?”

She shakes her head. “Not that I can really think of. We had an uncle pass away a few months before, and his co-star had that unexpected death mid-filming. Other than that, I can’t think of anyone. Jeno wasn’t superstitious at all, so I was confused why he was so insistent about finding a psychic.”

“Do you remember any conversations with Jeno about your uncle or his co-star? Did he have a good relationship with both?”

“Really great relationship with both,” she says with a nod. “Both were great mentors to him.” 

Your conversation with his sister wraps up incredibly quickly after that. She adds you to the visitation before parting ways with you in the hospital lobby. 

“Thanks for your time,” you say with a smile. 

Jeno’s sister adjusts the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Do you think my brother was cursed?” She asks. Unbeknownst to her, Jeno hovers right over her shoulder. 

“I’m not sure,” you lie, “but that’s what I’m here to find out. I’ll be in contact.”

You receive a visitor's badge and take the next elevator up alone. 

“You were going to contact me,” you say out loud. It’s the first words you’ve said to Jeno since the car. “Talk about bizarre. I can’t believe that was strong enough to create a tether.” 

“When you asked if there was an urge to find someone, I didn’t know how to answer,” Jeno finally responds. “When I came to, all I felt was a sense of relief. Like I’d finally found you, even though I had no idea of who you were and why I needed to find you.” 

Jeno’s face is so red that you can see it clear as day. Your own face feels hot to the touch. 

“Well, it checks out with how stubborn you are,” you laugh off the bashful atmosphere. “It got us to where we are now, at least.” 

Jeno’s room is at the end of the hallway on the third floor. Your steps slow down as you approach the door. 

“Well, we’ll see how this works.” You glance at Jeno. “Ready?” 

He nods.

You turn the handle and push against the door, but it doesn’t budge. 

“What on earth…?” You knock on the door. “Hello?”

No response. You turn the door handle again and shove your full weight against the door, but it doesn’t budge. It’s as if there’s an anvil propped against the door. 

“I can’t get in. Can you try and pass through?” You ask Jeno. 

He frowns and tries to phase through the door. However, his form literally bounces off the boundary of the door. He tries again through the wall instead, only for the same thing to happen. It doesn’t matter which door, wall, or even window he tries to enter through. You and Jeno cannot get in. 

On your last attempt at knocking the door over, you feel a cold presence seeping from the inner room. The hairs on your neck stand on end, and you feel a second entity trying to push against your psyche. 

“Shit,” you gasp. You look at Jeno, eyes wide. “We need to go.”

You rush out of the hospital until the sense of doom fully fades. 

“I don’t understand,” Jeno says, his face pale. “Why can’t we get in?”

“It feels like a ward, but we already know that no sorcerer or spirit hunter has been to your room.” You grimace. “We’ve confirmed it. Your body is officially cursed, and whatever’s cursing you doesn’t want us to come in.”

In the following days, you throw yourself deep into your research like never before. You’re digging into any person that could’ve interacted with Jeno in the last few months, sure, but you’re also brushing up on curses in general. 

 In your desperation, you even resort to watching Jeno’s movie to get a sense of how many scenes he did with each co-star. It’s surreal, watching a solid Jeno acting with a personality completely opposing his real-life demeanor. This character is a troubled and rough soul–all darkness and angst. 

“Chenle is right,” you say under your breath. “You are a great breakout actor.” 

Jeno shrugs. “I guess I’m glad that my only performance was a memorable one.”

It’s an innocent comment with no malice or resentment lining it whatsoever, but you feel like you’ve been slapped. You rise from your seat and grab a glass of water from your kitchen.

“Whoa,” Jeno says as he follows you. “What’s with the sudden jerkiness?” 

You grip the countertop tightly as you release a shaky breath. To your horror, tears begin to drip down your cheeks one-by-one. 

“What’s wrong?” Jeno asks, his eyes wide. “What did I say?” 

“What if there’s no way to get you back into your body?” Your voice wavers. “Am I supposed to make sure you pass through the door, then? Even though you’re still alive?”

Jeno had insisted that he was alive since day one, but now the reality of the situation slaps you in the face. You didn’t know such a thing was possible, let alone how you’re supposed to deal with it. The mental image of Jeno passing through the door while his physical body exhales its last breath makes you sick to your stomach. He deserves better–you want to do better by him.

You try to collect yourself and raise your glass for a drink, but the water sloshes toward the edge with each shake of your hands.

Jeno’s hand comes up around the cup. It stops the glass, but it passes through your hand easily. “It’s okay. Don’t push yourself.”

Stubbornly, you manage to take a gulp of water. “It’s not okay, Jeno.”

“Maybe we’re thinking of it in a way that’s too black-and-white,” he says.

You have no idea what he’s suggesting, but any words die before they can be released. You stare at him in silence.

“I could stay with you instead,” Jeno’s voice comes out soft. “I don’t have to pick one or the other.”

It’s like a plug has been pulled. All of your pent up conflict swirls into angry tears that drip down your cheeks. “Don’t be an idiot. I can’t let you just haunt the world aimlessly while your real body lives.”

“What are you going to do about it? Capture me and send me barreling through death's door into the afterlife?” He frowns. 

“It’s just…wrong. Both ways,” you say. “If you stay in this limbo, it feels like you’re asking me to choose between expelling your soul or letting your physical self waste away.” 

“To me, it’s an easy choice,” Jeno responds, resolute. “I only get to be with you in one of them.”

“But that way requires sacrifice.” A frustrated grunt catches in the back of your throat. “You’ll remain alive on a technicality, but you’ll never regain your original memories. You’ll be tied to me at all times, but you’ll never be able to touch me.”

A pause. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Your skin tingles at the mere thought.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you hiss. You wipe at the corners of your eyes before any tears can even escape. “I cannot, in good conscience nor duty, allow you to put your soul in that position.” 

Jeno’s eyes soften even as his mouth stiffens into a flat line. “There’s just so many things I want to do with you. I feel like I’ve seen a different side of you every day, yet it’s never enough.”

You can’t help the sniffles now. Your shoulders twitch with each exhale. 

“I want nothing more than to feel your skin on mine,” he says. Jeno raises his hand up to cup the side of your face. You lean into it, but your head contacts nothing even as your skin freezes. “Even if I’m not able to return to my body, I still can’t leave you. I feel like it’s my duty to stay with you and protect you in whatever way I can.”

It feels like hundreds of needles are stabbing through your heart. You long for the physical contact; just imagining the comfort of his embrace isn’t enough. It’s a sick yearning for something you’ve never had. 

It’s this deep ache that makes you whisper: “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to feel comfortable sharing your innermost thoughts with me. I want you to feel comfortable leaning and relying on me.” His smile is bittersweet. “More than anything, I want you to be happy. I want to be the one making you happy.”

You want that too. More than anything.

It’s because you want it so badly that you refuse to say it out loud. You care about him too much to relegate him as your permanent companion. You have someone ready to give up his world for yours, yet all of your principles forbid it.

“Life and fate are delicate scales,” you mutter. “If your soul wanders while your body decays, something will break.”

He frowns. “Scales?”

"Life and death can't be cheated," you explain. "If we disrupt the natural order of things, there will be consequences. Eventually."

He knows that you have him beat with your expertise. However, he still murmurs. “I don’t want to leave you alone.” 

You choke back another sob along with the words: I don’t want you to leave.

Instead, you turn your back and walk towards your room. “I’m going to consult some old contacts,” you say. “Someone has to know how to get your body back.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You pace in front of Ten’s office door. The clock on the far wall reads 7:59AM. One minute to go. Really, there’s nothing stopping you from opening the door and strolling in, but you want to maintain a calm front to your boss. You’d even told Jeno to stay at the furthest point of your boundary with him for privacy.

Seconds before the clock turns 8:00AM, the door swings open with a loud creak. 

Ten stands on the other side with his hand on his hip. “Are you going to come in yet?”

“Sorry,” you mutter as you shuffle into the space. “Didn’t want to bother you too early.” 

“You’re bothering me more by pacing back and forth outside of my door,” he snorts, then double takes when his eyes scan over your wrinkled shirt and tired eyes. “You look terrible.” 

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes. Leave it to Ten to be honest. “I need help with my case, which is obviously why I called this meeting.”

“Speaking of,” Ten leans forward in his chair and rests his chin against his hands. “How's your ghost boyfriend?”

“Oh no, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s—”

Ten cuts you off before you can finish your defense. His eyes are bored yet sharp. “I don’t want to know what weird supernatural label you’ve put on it. I’m assuming you’re having trouble finding his body?”

Renjun and Chenle must have told him. While Ten allows you the freedom to investigate and handle things your own way, you’ve long suspected that he had his methods to monitor you.

Regardless, you don’t mind in this case. Easier to explain. “Yes. Aside from the real-life difficulty of entering a celebrity’s hospital room without relation, I can feel something repelling me. I’m not sure if it’s something related to Jeno.”

“Something related to Jeno,” Ten repeats. “You mean, in the sense that he doesn’t want to go back to his body?”

“...Yes.” Heat climbs up your neck and pools in your cheeks and ears. This is not something that you’d want to talk to your boss about in a million years. Sure, you’re not getting granular into the details, but it’s not hard to figure out. 

Ten doesn’t seem to bask in your embarrassment. Instead, he hums while resting back in his chair. “He doesn’t seem to have a lot of spiritual power, correct?”

You shake your head. “He’s harmless. Yangyang cleansed both of us as well. He said he could detect something like a curse from when Jeno was alive, but since he’s been alive this entire time…”

“You think that there’s a curse on his body.”

“Yes. That, or Jeno himself is preventing me.”

“You don’t work often with malicious spirits or wraiths, correct?” Ten asks.

“No.” Any signs of spirits with ill will had you calling Renjun or Chenle to handle it. You could handle one yourself, in theory, but it would require a sorcerer like Yangyang for protection. Wraiths, like the one encountered in the department store, were completely out of the question to handle alone.

“Well, there are some cases with benign spirits also,” Ten mutters to himself before raising his head back to address you. “Do you recall your case last year with the twins?”

“Of course.” Last year’s case was a textbook instance of conjoined spiritual attachment, where the spirits of two sisters had been linked following a tragic accident. 

Ten’s eyes bore into you. “What was the root case of their attachment?”

You think for a moment. “Both sisters died with overwhelming guilt on behalf of the other. The first sister hated herself for causing the accident, while the other regretted her inaction toward preventing it.”

“Exactly!”

You stare at his wild burst of enthusiasm. “I don’t understand how that helps.”

He sighs. “Come on, remove your mindset from the traditional perspective. While the twins were benign spirits, it can happen with any spirit. We never talk about conjoined malicious spirits or wraiths because not only are they incredibly rare, but because we don’t care to find the root case as carefully.” Ten pauses before speaking carefully. “I don’t think it’s a curse. Was anyone else involved in Jeno’s accident?”

“He was alone, and it was truly an accident. Drunk driver,” you say, but your head is spinning at Ten’s information. “Jeno came to me alone, and he’s good. How could he be conjoined? Wouldn’t I have noticed another tethered spirit?”

Ten holds up a slender finger. “First thing: Both don’t need to be malicious. One is enough. Second thing: I think he’s in the process of being conjoined, but his body being alive is the only thing preventing that.”

Your blood runs cold with the realization. “The other spirit is blocking Jeno’s spirit until his body dies.”

Ten nods. “Most likely.”

Shit, you think. Shit shit shit.

How could you, however brief, entertain the notion of Jeno staying as a ghost by your side? Not only have you put his physical body on the line, but he would be tethered to another ghost upon death. If unable to separate them, you’d have to shove them through death’s door together against Jeno’s will. If his will could withstand the will of something more vengeful and malicious. 

Your stomach churns. Your chair scrapes against the floor as you rise to your feet. “Thank you, Ten. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this before.”

“It’s whatever. I just want my best worker back,” Ten waves away the praise. “I know we do things differently than how you were raised, but I truly believe that different perspectives strengthen us for situations like this.”

It’s rather philosophical for Ten, but you’re inclined to agree. “Thank you again. I will report back on my findings, hopefully when it’s all over.”

“You’d better make it to his body sooner rather than later,” Ten calls after you as you exit. “Don’t be afraid to use the others for backup either!"

You call back in assent, ignoring the anxiety growing within your chest. You fear failing, but you also fear what you'll lose if you succeed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Sensors…first aid kit…wards…” You say out loud as you parse through the contents of your equipment bag. “I think that’s everything. Hopefully Renjun and Chenle bring everything else that they wanted to work on.”

Jeno grunts in acknowledgment. 

The engine rumbles as you turn the ignition. You glance at Jeno over your shoulder. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask.

He hums again. 

“Jeno.” You drop your voice. “You should be happy. You’re getting your body back. You won’t be a ghost anymore.”

The car shakes slightly as you pass over a speed bump. The only sound in the car is the light music flowing through your speakers.

“You haven’t seemed particularly happy either. Especially after your talk with Ten.” Jeno crosses his arms.

You gape at him through the rearview mirror. “Are you pouting?”

He looks away. “No.”

“I told you everything that I learned from that conversation,” you say with an exasperated sigh. “This will be a happy occasion, once we overcome the spirit guarding you.”

“Even so,” he says. “You look like you want nothing to do with me. You’ve avoided me at every turn, and that’s with me being bound to you.”

He’s not completely incorrect. You have been avoiding him, but all of the reasons lie with yourself first.

You turn into the hospital parking lot and park into the first spot you see. The car’s barely off when you whip around to face Jeno with a glare.

“First and foremost, I’m doing my job,” you assert. “Right now, my focus is reuniting your spirit with your body so you can get your memories back and return to your normal life.”

“Tell me one thing.” His voice lowers. “Are you included within my normal life?”

“Not now, Jeno. Please.” This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. 

“If not now, then when?” He argues. “You say nothing is wrong, but you’re acting like this is the end.” 

You choose each word carefully. “We don’t know how you’ll react after reuniting with your memories.” 

“This again,” he snorts. “You don’t know how I’ll react, but I do. I may not have my memories, but I know I will still want to be with you. That won’t change.”  

You give him a sad smile. “Our memories are us. You might change your mind once you see everything in context.” 

“I won’t,” he insists. 

“It’s possible,” you push back.

“Think about it,” he says. His eyes shine with determination. “My soul isn’t even tied to my physical body. It’s tied to you. It wants to be with you.”

“It wanted me to solve the mystery of your curse,” you respond. “There’s no other reason for it.” 

A cool sensation washes over your hand as Jeno’s passes through yours. “I know you won’t admit it, but I know you care about me too. You don’t want me to go.” 

Your eyes flick to his angrily. “You must go, or I failed as your guide. End of discussion.”

You yank your car door open and stumble out without hearing his response. Luckily, he gives you the space. Your heart aches. Jeno’s right, of course–you don’t want him to go. He insists that his memories won’t change his feelings, but his openness to abandoning his body reveals his true belief: Jeno’s memories are a wild card, and neither of you truly know how it will change things. You fear giving yourself to Jeno only to immediately lose him again.

You’re thankful to see Renjun and Chenle pull up minutes later. You take a deep breath and relax your body.

Renjun’s all business immediately. “Do you have Yangyang’s wards?” 

You ruffle through the bag and hand them over.

“I’m heading up first,” he says. “They should dismantle whatever repelled you within ten minutes. Get everything ready with Chenle first, then head up when you’re ready.” 

He’s gone in a flash.

“Hello to you too,” you say to his retreating back. 

“He stayed up late modifying some of his tools.” Chenle says as he climbs out of the car. “Not sure he slept at all, actually.”

“Whatever gives him more confidence that we can actually catch this thing.” You lean against the car and watch as Chenle puts on his goggles. “Any specific strategy for today?”

“We’re pretty limited by the room itself,” he thinks aloud. “First, Renjun deploys the wards and we hope that Yangyang’s magic is able to rip a hole in that spiritual block. From there, we might have to…open the door and hope for the best.”

You shudder. “I hope it’s nothing like the one from the department store.”

“You and me both.” Chenle nods to a spot over your shoulder; peeking over confirms that Jeno’s finally emerged from the inside of the car. “You both ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you mutter. “Let’s do this.”  

Getting into the hospital is much easier than you expected. You’re not sure what Renjun did when he entered, but there’s no staff around when you enter. It’s too easy to slink upstairs to Jeno’s floor without bumping into a soul.

Creepy, you think. It reminds you too much of the atmosphere in the department store. 

Chenle must think the same thing, as he pulls out his sensor. The device starts with a faint beep that escalates and amplifies into a constant ring as the elevator rises. 

When the doors open with a ding, you slink out into the hallway easily. You turn down the aisle towards Jeno’s room, heart racing as you see a familiar body splayed onto the ground.

“Shit, Renjun!” You gasp as your party rushes over to your coworker. 

You lift his torso so that he’s propped up against the wall outside of the room. His face is pale, and his breaths shallow. 

“I’m okay,” he coughs. “Yangyang’s stupid magic just had some recoil. Knocked the wind out of me. It worked, though. I think.”

You glance at the door. Sure enough, there’s a big hole blown through the center of the door itself. The room behind the hole is completely dark from the lack of light inside, save for the faint beams of light leaking in from the hallway. Glass from the door window scatters on the floor, and the scent in the air is a little smoky. 

“Um,” Chenle’s own face pales in a mirror of Renjun’s. “Shit, did anything come out? Should I just open it?” 

“It’s still there. No need to worry about me, either.” A weak hand waves a familiar capsule in the air. “I can protect myself with this, if the thing decides to come out.”  

You both stare at him, then each other. It’s absolutely insane, but what else can you do? There’s no way he’ll be able to outrun a wraith if need be. 

“Do you want to do the honors?” Chenle asks. 

Your gaze connects with Jeno’s. His eyes are wide with a silent plea: Don’t.

It motivates you to step forward. “I will. Stay behind unless it gets violent.”

You take a deep breath. You still grip onto the door handle despite the hole blasted through the center. “One…two…three!”

You push through the door. The lights flicker on with the motion of the door. You gasp at the sight in front of you.

There, standing between you and Jeno’s body laid across the hospital bed, is the spirit of his co-star. The same balding, middle aged man that Jeno’s sister thought was a mentor figure to her brother. 

“Good evening!” The spirit smiles at you. He’s still wearing his costume from set; a fact that sends a shiver down your spine. “Your friend had a mighty big entrance there, blowing through the door like that. It nearly blew my head off.”

“Forgive him, he was just trying to get in.” You step forward cautiously. “May I ask why you’re in front of this man’s body?” 

“Oh, quite.” His smile turns empty. His beady eyes bore into you. “I’m waiting until he dies. People were expecting him to adopt my legacy, since I took him under my wing, but I never quite liked his attitude. They let anyone act these days, it seems.”

“I see.” The ghost is reciting his reasoning, but all of his emotions and words are empty. If there's a soul there, it remains in fragments only.

You reach into your pocket to grasp Renjun’s device. The ghost’s eyes snap to the movement before inspecting your face with narrowed eyes. 

“I don’t think I know you,” he says. “A friend of his?” 

“Of sorts,” you say. You release the safety. “More of a fan waiting to meet him in the flesh, really.” 

“Well that won’t do,” the ghost says. His outline pulses and expands in front of your eyes. “We’re not open to meet and greets.”

Jeno’s voice yells your name. “Get out of his way, now!”

Both you and the wraith’s head snap towards Jeno, who’s appeared in the doorway. 

“Damn it Jeno, I said stay behind–!” 

The wraith rumbles in what sounds like a laugh. “Perfect,” it drawls. “I can finally deal with you myself!” 

You sprint out of the door before it has a chance to lunge. The lights in the hallway flicker as you hear the screeching behind you. You’re not so much running for yourself as much as you are for Jeno’s sake; if you don’t get ahead, then he doesn’t have a chance due to the invisible leash between you.

The hallway blurs. The wraith screeches—too close. You don’t look back. You turn one corner sharply, and then another, and then you quickly lose track of your position. You pray that either Chenle’s able to keep up or that you’re somehow headed in the correct direction.

“Stop running!” It bellows.

“I don’t even remember you!” Jeno calls back. “But from what I saw, you were a shit actor anyway!” 

Finally, like a light at the end of the tunnel, your eyes focus on Renjun posted at the end of the hallway. You could pivot to another turn, but another idea takes hold as you barrel straight forward. 

“Chenle, your ass better be close by!” You shriek as you sprint towards Renjun. “Jeno–!”

“I know!” He shouts back. 

The two of you sprint straight toward Renjun, who has his device pointed at the ready for your cue. You continue full steam ahead, ignoring the crashes and high pitched screams behind you.

Then, instead of blazing past the entrance to Jeno’s hospital door, you change your trajectory. “Now!” You scream as you veer suddenly to the left, sliding into the room and away from Renjun. Jeno’s spirit flies right in front of you, completely safe from the line of fire.

The light from Renjun’s device makes your eyes water from its searing brightness. The wraith swirls closer to it slowly, but it’s able to resist more than the one you’d seen at the store. As it gets pulled past the doorway, its head suddenly twists to leer at you. 

Your heart gets caught in your throat. You make a move for your own device, but then you hear a yell accompanied by another flash of light closing in from the other direction.

It must be Chenle, you realize. Sure enough, the counteracting beam of light closes in from the other side. The spirit tries to resist, but eventually it’s forced into Renjun’s capture device with a final scream into the unknown. Renjun seals the device tightly with the lock mechanism. 

You blink as both lights disappear. The wraith is gone now–all that’s left is you, Jeno, and your two coworkers panting with hands shaking around their equipment.

“He’s gone,” you gasp, shaking yourself. You look up at Jeno. “You’re finally free.” 

Chenle and Renjun both look worse for wear, but they still rise to wobbling feet and shuffle towards the exit. 

“You don’t have to leave immediately,” you insist, alarmed at their sluggish moments. 

Renjun shakes his head. “We’ll just wait outside. You guys should close it out together alone, just like how you started.”

Just like that, they’re hobbling down the hallway for the exit. The door swings closed, despite the gaping hole through the center. You turn your attention to the rest of the room. 

Jeno–rather, Jeno’s body–lays on the hospital bed. His chest rises and falls, and the monitor at his side measures a steady, normal heart rate. There’s no frown lines or signs of anything wrong on his face; the real Jeno seems completely at peace.

“Like what you see?” Ghost Jeno asks behind your ear. His eyes crinkle into half moons as you jump from his proximity.

“I’ve just never seen one of my ghosts in person before,” you breathe. “You know, considering everyone else is actually dead.” 

“And here I thought you would say I look better than in the movie,” he pouts. 

In all honesty, he does look better in real life. You’d go as far to say that neither the movie or his pictures do him justice. From his sculpted facial features to the smoothness of his skin, he looks more like a piece of artwork than a human. If ghost Jeno was enough to make your heart cartwheel, being in the same room as his physical self makes it tumble in your chest. 

Ghost Jeno floats over his body so that he hovers in a direct mirror. “So…how does this work?”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?” 

“How do I…” He claps his hands together. “Merge back? Are you supposed to do something?”

“Why would I have to do something?” You ask. “Shouldn’t you try climbing back into it first?”

He raises his hands up. “You’re the spirit expert. Since I’m tied to you I thought maybe there would be some other requirements. You could always try kissing my body in my sleep? Disney style?”

In spite of yourself, a smile tugs at your lips. “If I have to start kissing people as part of the job, I think I’ll have to go out of business.” 

Jeno raises his eyebrows. “But you’d try it this once, right? For me?”

“Stop stalling.” Heat floods your face, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Just try. The easiest method first, thank you.”

“Okay.” His expression softens. “I’m going to try and go back now.”

You stare at each other, suspended in the moment. You’re sure, then, that you’re both thinking the same thing. 

“I’ll probably stay long enough to confirm it works,” you say slowly. “I should probably leave before the real you wakes up, just in case…”

“No,” Jeno says. “I’m definitely going to remember you.” 

Your smile flattens. “You can’t guarantee that.”

“I just have a feeling,” he says. “So please stay.” 

Every cell of your body urges you to leave. If you were attuned to the voices already passed over into the afterlife, you’re sure that you would hear every Spirit Hunter before you screaming to respect tradition. Lead the soul, break the tie.

But that’s the thing: you’re alone in this world, and you’re severed from those who have crossed over. It’s the sincerity in Jeno’s eyes that reminds you of who’s been here with you during these last few months. Even if all of these memories together become solely yours to carry, you can at least honor this last moment together. 

Against all logic and dogma, your gut trust in Jeno leads you to say: “Okay.” 

His silhouette relaxes. “Alright,” he says. “See you later.” 

You watch, breath held, as his soul finally connects with his body. His physical body twitches as he makes contact, but nothing else happens as Jeno’s ghost submerges into himself. His body catches its breath–your heart drops–but after a brief moment, he continues the same, deep breathing in and out. 

You walk to the side of his bed. Examining the area around him, there’s no trace of Jeno’s ghost; he must have been accepted, you determine. 

As Jeno shows no signs of waking up, you linger at his bedside, unsure of what to do. Sure, you’d promised that you’d stay, but what did that mean? Sit at his side until he woke up? What if he didn’t remember you, and he woke up to a complete stranger staring at him? 

You take another look at the smooth lines in his face and soften. Jeno has a whole bank of memories to parse through. Sure, your time together had meant a lot to both of you, but you wonder how much of that devotion belonged solely to the ghost. A part of you still fears seeing the look on his face–confusion, yes, but more so indifference. 

I stayed, you think. I stayed and made sure the transfer was successful. I can leave, for now, and come back to visit when he’s awake. 

It’s a weak promise to yourself; you know that if you leave now, it will be infinitely difficult to find the courage to come back and face him later. You stop to brush one of his stray hairs back into place before leaving. 

“Bye for now,” you whisper.

As you turn away, a hand snaps over your wrist and yanks you back around.

“You said you would stay,” Jeno croaks. One of his eyes squints at you. “Liar.” 

The words barely stammer out. “I-I was going to come back–” 

Jeno pulls you into his chest, both arms cradling around you gently. You’re so used to the transience and lightness of his ghost form that this physicality feels the opposite–firm and solid. Here. 

“Jeno…?” 

“I’m just happy that I can finally hold you,” his voice muffles into the crook of your shoulder. “I would’ve stayed by your side forever as a ghost, regardless, but this is way better.” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. A few tears fall down your cheeks and drip onto his hospital gown. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.” 

“I told you I had a gut feeling,” Jeno says as he pulls away. He cradles your face in his hands and wipes the tears away with the pads of his fingers. “Have some faith.” 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe through the hiccups. 

His hands pull your face to his, and your lips brush together in a soft touch. Everything about kissing him is warm and comforting and right. You feel his heart beating underneath your hand on his chest, its quickening confirmed by the increased faint beeping of the monitor next to him. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Jeno rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

Your eyes wander over his pale and tired face. You realize, in this moment and through his words, the discrepancy in faith between Jeno and yourself. While you had forced the distance between you every step of the way, he’d pushed back with conviction. Jeno’s given you no room to doubt his commitment–if anything, you’re the evasive one. 

You cup his face with one hand, and your thumb strokes his cheek slowly. “Hey?”

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I love you,” you whisper. It’s your leap of faith; overcoming the fear that comes with letting yourself be loved.

The startled look on his face is priceless. “Whoa,” Jeno says, eyes wide. “I–wow–”

Your entire body feels as though it’ll burst into flames. “Too soon?” 

“No, never,” Jeno pulls you into his chest. The beeping on his heart monitor rapid-fires. “I just thought it would be too soon for you.” 

“It would be, normally,” you admit, “but nothing about our circumstances is quite normal. It deserves an exception.”

“True,” he grins ear to ear. “I love you too. I’m all yours–clearly. Body and soul.”

Your heart sings. You have no idea what comes next–you’re not sure how you’re going to explain this to Jeno’s family, and you’re also not sure if being with a previous ghost client somehow violates some sort of HR rule–but you can’t bring yourself to care.

SO my thinking is, he was a bird yokai of the 17th century, during the era of the bubonic plague. Cloaking brooches at the time were mostly for the wealthy, so many yokai who couldn’t afford them or make them had to just disguise themselves if they wanted to leave hidden cities.

One particular yokai during this age realized his profession would do much better in the human world, since he knew much on practical medicine and not as much in the mystic sense. His only mystical talent was with small animals, like rats and birds. So if he wanted to be a doctor, he’d be much more helpful up top.

When the plague hit, Dr Falco, as he went by with humans, was becoming much more busy and thus, more profitable. Cities were paying him well to work on the sick, including those that could not afford it. He was happy to help those less fortunate in life… until his help started to become too effective.

So, he started having animals spread the diseased fleas much quicker than before. To keep his income. Obviously, he felt guilty to doom so many like this, but hey, a bird’s gotta eat too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Then, Yokai started to also get sick, and were quick to blame rodent based yokai for bringing the human disease into the hidden cities. Many of them were getting attacked and even killed for things they had nothing to do with. There was no proof of their involvement, just a raising paranoia — for rats, in particular.

When Dr Falco was found out by his own kind, the family and friends of those rodent yokai attacked him out of revenge, leading to the tears on his mask and cloak. He managed to get away (with the help of whatever small critters he could make swoop into the fight), thinking he may just never return to the Hidden Cities again… only to be spotted by the very humans he was treating. Him, in a tattered cloak, ruffled feathers, and many rats and mice still surrounding him…

They believed him to be a demon disguised as a doctor to curse them with this sickness, and thus had him hung and his body burnt.

In his moment of death, Victor Falco was fearful, enraged, vengeful, but most of all, guilty. All of that emotion as he died created the Demon known as the Rat King. Forever wandering the living world with a crick in his neck, rats at his side, and tangled in the “tails” of lies that he crafted for his own selfish gain.

Initial concept doodle for him a few days ago:

He’s been contained multiple times by exorcists of both yokai and human descent, but manages to escape every time, if only for a while. Now, his sights are set on New York, as there’s a strange peak in mystical energy within those sewers, and a lot of supernatural items being used in the same area all at once…

That should've been the first sign.

A one-bed, one-bath this close to work, for that price? You jumped at the offer. Even if it meant living out of boxes for a few weeks, even if the walls sometimes groaned like they were settling. You told yourself it was fine. Old pipes. New paint. No big deal.

You've never imagined living with a poltergeist--though if you had, you might of expected worse. Something sinister. But this ghost? It must like you. That, or maybe it's just bored.

It starts small.

Cold spots, easily brushed off. Things going missing--your fault, probably. Time feeling strange, like the air itself gets heavier when you're home. And the whispers--like warm breath fanning over your ear.

You don't really think about it, deciding that having a ghost isn't so bad.

Until one night.

Painting your toes red on the couch your friend lent you, half-watching your comfort show while she babbles through the phone speaker.

"I'm telling you," she says, voice fuzzy through the speaker, "he likes you. Can't keep your name out of his mouth. Just invite him over already!"

You hum, distracted, trying not to smudge your polish as you set the remote down--and knock over the bottle.

"Shit," you hiss, grabbing tissues, blotting up a dark red puddle on the coffee table that looks a little too much like blood under the light.

You stare at the paused TV screen, eyes growing wide at the sight of a tall shadow standing in your kitchen behind you from the reflection. You whip your head around to find nothing, blinking rapidly at the empty space as a buzzing gust of air breezes past your skin.

You feel something light, almost phantom-like ghost over the flesh of your ankle. You curl up on the couch, painted nails forgotten as you peer at the screen for another sign. Another glimpse.

Is now the time you should start questioning your actions?

"C'mon," your friend presses, breaking you out of your trance. "he dumped that hoe. Everyone knows you're ten times better anyway."

You laugh, cheeks and face starting to burn hot. With all this supernatural stuff going on, company might ease you. Could be just what you need. "Yeah, maybe I will invite him over..."

Only the words barely leave your mouth when a sound booms--almost like a sharp crash--behind you. Loud enough to make you yelp.

"Hey! What was that? You okay?"

"Yeah--yeah, sorry," you stammer, staring over your shoulder. Something's not right. "Uh, my tax guy's calling. I'll talk to you later."

"Hey, I'd scream too."

You laugh, a shaky one, and end the call.

The house feels different now. Charged.

You stand slowly, hand braced on the couch as you trail towards the kitchen--where your brand-new potted plant lies in ruins. The pot split clean in two, soil scattered across the hardwood like a crime scene.

"Oh, come on," you groan, stepping closer. The little cactus (or whatever it was--something leafy, something you didn't know how to keep alive anyway) sits bent and broken, roots exposed.

You glance around the empty room. "Jealous much?" you mutter as you grab the broom.

It's too quiet.

Every sweep of the bristles seems too loud, echoing off the walls. The air feels heavier again, like someone's standing behind you--watching.

But there's nothing.

You try to ignore it. Focus on the dirt. The mess. The little scrape of ceramic shards. Anything to shake the feeling that whatever it was, this was just the beginning.

Then, a unsettling creak breaks your attention, one of the cupboard doors flying open.

You freeze.

Cold air rushes out and blankets over you like a sigh.

And somewhere, in the stillness between heartbeats--

--you swear you hear it.

Low. Rumbling. Almost vibrating through you.

A gruff, amused whisper, throat raspy from years of not being used.

A man.