I’m laughing. It’s a weird sensation, how it rings in my head, how it shakes my body as I try so hard to contain the laughter bubbling inside me. Doesn’t help that he’s laughing too. He covers his mouth with his hands and his eyes glisten as if he’s crying.

Hey, don’t... I jokingly glare at him but neither of us can stop.

The door slides open. I sit upright, hugging my pillow as if it’s a shield that would protect me from the intruder. He immediately falls silent and leaves the side of my bed, going to the corner of the room and sitting down there. The nurse’s hair is up in a perfect bun trapped in a black net.

Are you okay? She sounds concerned. I nod, swallowing my laughter.

No one believes me, but I really am having the time of my life.

I’m fourteen.

-

“It’s funny!” Jimin is way too amused. I give him a judging glare.

It is disgusting. I type a formal, grammatically accurate sentence, complete with a period.

We sit on the bus, and luckily this time there are enough seats for the invisible man to have one to himself. I lean my head on the window as the bright city lights dart across my eyes. My phone screen is angled so Jimin can read and make this…. Conversation. I’m getting more used to it. I guess.

“It’s funny, how everyone thinks he’s always doing important work when he’s actually just on some sketchy website.” Jimin grins. “I hope he knows how to clear his search history. That’s the school’s laptop he’s using.”

Do we need to keep talking about this? I raise my eyebrows in a frightening way in his direction.

“I’m just saying that you now know one weakness of your scary, strict homeroom teacher… a addict…”

SHUT UP. Again, I even add a period for emphasis, hoping it emphasizes how much I do not want to be talking about this right now. I really do not want to know about what my homeroom teacher is doing...and shouldn't be doing...in his free time.

“Fine, fine, little kid, your innocent ears can’t handle this yet. I get it.” Jimin leans back in his seat. The laughter has not left him yet.

I type, surging with emotion, but I’m not sure if it’s with the same amusement mirroring his or annoyance. You’re abusing your abilities

“I simply observed, that’s all.” Jimin winks.

I sigh.

“But if you ever wonder what he’s so focused on during class, you know what—”

That's when I press the STOP button on my right, ignoring Jimin. The buzz sound slightly muffles Jimin’s voice, to my relief. I stand up and walk past Jimin, who is quick to fold his legs in as my own pass through.

“We aren’t even there yet!” Jimin points outside, wide-eyed, but all I do is turn around and hold the bar next to the back door. Eventually, he rises from his seat begrudgingly and holds the bar as well, ghostly fingers wrapping around it a few centimetres above my fist.

When the bus reaches the stop, everyone in the bus shifts forward slightly but not enough for anyone to lose balance. Thankfully, today we don’t have that driver who’s always eager to get to the final stop as fast as possible. The bus door slides open and I jump off. I don’t turn around to check if Jimin is following—a few people are getting off at the same time as well, and there’s someone sitting at the bus stop waiting to get in...I don’t want to seem like I’m constantly checking on, you know, nothing.

“Cold, cold, c-cold!” Jimin almost sings behind me as the sound of the engine of the bus gets farther and farther away.

I don’t acknowledge him and start walking home. It is cold, but at least I’ve been letting him sleep on our couch downstairs at night for the past few days. It’s not like my parents would question why I’m bringing some random guy in the house near midnight. Ghosts don’t have to deal with human world hassles...again, the perks of being dead.

“Hello,” a voice calls.

In the sudden silence that had fallen after the bus departed, the man’s low voice projects clearly. It’s a big contrast from Jimin’s voice, who still sounds like a kid at age twenty… who knows how old he is now. This man’s voice is calm, almost as if he were greeting someone he’s been expecting, so I know the hello couldn’t have been directed at me.

Still, curiosity takes over and I turn my head.

I first see Jimin, his iconic pink hair under the orange streetlight, almost appearing to glow. I then register he’s looking at someone and wonder if he found another friend of his that he knew before the ghost ordeal happened, wonder if it’s the Kim Taehyung he was looking for. I also realize that I don’t even know the face of this Kim Taehyung guy and make a mental note to myself to ask Namjoon for his photo sometime soon. It's already Thursday, meaning tomorrow is the day of the meeting with Namjoon and the others. I suppose I can ask then.

I follow Jimin’s trail of sight and find someone sitting on the bench at the bus stop. I can only see his back from this angle, but the man is looking straight at Jimin, as if he were addressing him. As if he can… as if he can see Jimin?

Wondering if he is cursed like myself, I carefully walk closer.

“Hi.” The man speaks again with his low voice. Jimin looks frightened and paler than usual. I didn’t know that was possible.

“Me?” Jimin points at himself in disbelief.

“Yeah, what brings you here?” the man says. To Jimin. Taking a closer look, I realize something is off about the man. He’s wearing a firefighter’s uniform, and what I thought was merely a trick of light in the darkness of the evening proves to be wrong, because when I stare at him long enough, I can see the street through him.

He’s another one of them.

I stop, catching my breath, the familiar sensation of panic filling my head. Normally, I’d run. But I look at Jimin. He looks like a mouse cornered by a cat. If I ran, he’d freeze here. I could come back to find him a while later… but if this ghostly stranger occupies the space around here now, won’t he always be around here?

Jimin looks at me as if he’s calling for help. Naturally, the man sitting on the bench turns his head to see me. I look away at first, but can feel the two ghosts’ stares directed at me, one pleading, the other inquisitive. I take a deep breath. And then I breathe out. I look at the firefighter ghost, straight into his eyes.

“Hello.” My voice isn’t as shaky as I thought it would be.  

“Oh,” is all the ghost says at first, only a hint of surprise in his tone. He’s observing me, I can feel it. But I’m not one of them. I’m just a… living, breathing person, swaddled in heavy winter gear appropriate for the season. The awkwardness becomes too much for me to handle so I take big strides toward Jimin, standing right next to him. The firefighter smiles widely, the frightening aura around him suddenly melting away. Taken aback by the sudden change in his expression, I look at Jimin right next to me. I can see his confusement as well.

I look around, checking that no one is around me. I then walk slowly toward the firefighter ghost. When I’m close enough to him so I can speak in a relatively quiet voice, I say the greeting again.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” the ghost replies. I feel a little awkward at the shortness of the conversation, so I continue.

“Uh… I, uh, that’s Park Jimin.” I point at Jimin standing a few feet behind me, feet planted on the ground and still looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. “And I’m Han Gyeowool.”

He looks at my school uniform. “You must be a high school student,” he says, still strangely calm. As if the fact that a living girl spoke to him isn’t surprising.

“Yes.”

“Pretty name,” I sense he’s looking at my nametag.

I look down at it. “Thank you,” I respond rather awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

“You want to sit?” he offers, tapping the bench with his left hand. I look back at Jimin. Then at the firefighter ghost.

I take a seat, then gesture at Jimin who’s still a safe distance away. Come here, I mouth. Jimin slowly drags his feet across the pavement when I stop and think, wait, what, why am I sitting here? Cars still drive past in the night, windshield wipers sweeping away the bits of snow that fall from the dark sky. I carefully turn my head toward the firefighter, who’s still smiling widely. The passing car’s headlights don’t reflect off of his uniform like they would’ve if he were...well, real.

What is it with all the happy dead people I’m meeting lately? Is it the latest ghost trend to be happy?

“I saw you yesterday.” He looks at Jimin as he says this. “I didn’t know you two were friends, though.”

We’re not, I think, but don’t say out loud.

“Oh, uh…” It’s weird to see Jimin flustered for once, rather than trying to make me flustered. “Yes, it sort of… happened.”

“So were you two together before or something?” It takes me a while to process what the ghost means, but Jimin bursts out laughing immediately.

“No!” Jimin exclaims, finally making me realize the implications of the firefighter’s question. My face falls into a frown.

“Me, with this guy?” I point at myself, then at Jimin. “Really?”

“Hey, Han Gyeowool, I’m the one that’s supposed to be disgusted, not you.”

“No, we’re like, strangers. Almost,” I explain to the firefighter. I still can’t believe I’m making civil conversation with another ghost.

“I see.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I thought the power of love would’ve made things work, but I guess not.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just happen to be very unlucky,” I say, practically sensing Jimin’s indignant look.

The firefighter hums. “So you’re still alive.” The way the he says it is like he’s pointing out that my hair is black. Or that I’m a girl.

I nod.

Surprisingly, it’s Jimin that speaks to him next. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asks.

As he speaks, I realize that although there are two people sitting on either side of me, I must look like I’m sitting alone and having a friendly chat with the screen at the bus stop. I take out my phone and my earphones, plugging the earphone in my left ear to seem a bit less suspicious.

“I am,” the man replies as he look at the road, the cars still racing past. “She’ll be here soon, I hope.”

This man, he has that tone too. The reminiscent tone of the dead, who can do nothing more than just watch and wait. It sounds too familiar, reminding me of the way all the ghosts that haunted me before would drag me into their lives. An uneasy feeling rises from my gut, clogging my throat. Then I look at Jimin.

For some reason, the pink-haired ghost doesn’t scare me or give me that same feeling. He’s a weirdo, sure, and a little childish at times. But nothing threatening, and nowhere close to vicious. He’s just… there.

I look at the firefighter ghost on my right. He’s still staring at the road. I’m surprised to find myself wondering what story he has. I’ve never wanted to question the ghosts that followed me around, driving me crazy. They were dying (no pun intended) to tell me why they died, who they have to see, why I have to listen to them, just once, just listen, why won’t you listen?

But the firefighter is calm.

The oddness of the unfamiliar situation must have inexplicable power over me as I find myself asking the firefighter a question.

“Can she see you?” I ask. The firefighter’s still staring at the road, and I wonder for a second if he heard me. He shakes his head after a while.

“How long has it been, then?” I ask another question.

“A month?” He points at the screen on the right that displays the time and date.

“...Who was she?” It’s Jimin that asks the question this time. The firefighter turns his head to look at us. 

“My wife,” he says, rubbing his hands. I realize he’s wearing a ring. He lets out a sigh, but he’s still smiling. “It was our anniversary two months ago.”

I blink, trying to think of what to say. “I’m sorry.” Again, that’s all I can come up with.

“I guess this was my fate.” The man slowly lifts his hand, fingers stretched. He stares at the ring for a while. Then lets his hand drop. “Every man has to go someday.”

The way he talks. I realize why he’s different. Those who choose to remain among the living stay because they have a specific reason to. Final words to say, final business to be finished. And to do so, they always want to use me, their only bridge to the real world. This man lacks any of that insistence. So, I wonder what exactly is holding him from leaving. He has his wife, sure, but if he had a specific ‘unfinished business’, why is he not bugging me to tell her something or do something for her?

I laugh at myself. Count your blessings, please. Are you disappointed that he’s leaving you alone?

“Must be weird seeing us, right?” It again takes me a while to realize the man was talking to me. I look at him. Through him, I see the bus schedule on the screen. Bus 319, 2 stops away. I wonder if that’s the bus he’s waiting for. Or if he’s waiting for any particular bus in the first place. For all I know, he could be waiting for his wife that left the city forever.

“I got used to it,” I reply, looking down to see Jimin’s bare foot and the flip-flops he’s wearing. The falling snow lands on the pavement and melts into nothing. “It’s been years, after all.”

“Have you seen a lot of us, then?” As soon as he asks, too many memories surface at once, rising from deep inside my head.

“Too many,” I spit out, trying to push away the thoughts.

“How long do they take to leave?”

At this question, I look at him, raising my eyebrows. “They never leave,” I say slowly. “I leave them.”

“But everyone who has died must leave eventually.” The firefighter says this in such a matter-of-fact tone that it surprises me. No one I’ve met who’s dead has ever said that to me. “We don’t belong.”

I wonder how this man, who isn’t clinging to his life or any form of existence he can have, ended up as a ghost.

“I wish other ghosts thought the same,” I laugh.

“But doesn’t that happen, Jimin?” He leans forward so he can see Jimin sitting next to me. “It keeps calling. The light.”

The light? I thought I was an expert in ghost logic, but I guess I was wrong. I turn to Jimin, expecting the same confusion. Instead, he nods. What, you know about it too?

“I promised the light too,” Jimin says. First time I’ve heard of this.

“Wait, what promise?” I say out loud. A young man passing by, probably in his twenties, gives me an odd look before continuing on his way. I adjust the earphone in my left ear, face pinking. I hope he thinks I’m in a call. Jimin looks at me and grins in amusement.

After the man is out of sight, he elaborates, “I promised that I’d find everyone then leave.”

“Wait, wait, what?” I wave my hand to clear the foggy thoughts jumbling in my head. “I thought we were the only ones with a deal.”

“I made a double deal. Same conditions. Find everyone and leave,” Jimin says as if it’s old news.

“Why hasn’t any ghost told me about this before?” I ask. They’d always be like listen, do this, do that. Nothing about making promises with some mysterious light entity or whatever.

Jimin shrugs.

“The… light, you see, is what you see the moment you wake up,” the firefighter starts to explain. “And it tells you that you need to leave.”

“Wow.” So all those ghosts that bothered me were told to leave, but still wouldn’t?

“But you can negotiate. And it’ll say it’ll give you time. At least for me, that’s what it said,” says the firefighter.

“For me, too,” Jimin adds.

“So… how long are you supposed to stay, then?” I ask, not sure to which one I’m asking. It’s the firefighter that answers.

“Well...” he starts, but the 319 bus is pulling over and his attention immediately shifts to the bus. The two gates on either side of the bus open, and two people get off. One, a kid from our school. Another…

I look at the young lady slowly getting off the bus and realize that she’s pregnant, the swell of her abdomen noticeable even through the winter coat. She carefully takes a step off, then another, and the pieces of the puzzle come together as I notice how the firefighter has fallen silent in favour of watching this lady with a certain tenderness in his eyes—why this oddly relaxed ghost man is still here, why he would want to remain even if it means he can only watch.

“The baby’s due in a month,” the firefighter says quietly next to me, confirming my thoughts.

“How come she’s still working?” Jimin asks. The firefighter smiles again, but this time I know the smile’s not there because he feels happy; rather, he’s forcing himself to be happy.

“I guess the insurance money wasn’t enough to pay off our debts.” He says it like it’s no big deal, but the way he looks at his wife intently, I can tell he has more to say that he chooses not to.

The young woman walks away. Should I call her over, I wonder for a split second. Would she believe me? But she should talk to her husband, he’s right here, he’s been waiting…

“Don’t.” The firefighter speaks with sudden force, stopping me. “Don’t tell her I’m here.”

I turn around, eyes wide. “Don’t? But she’s right there!”

“Yes, but she’s alive, and I’m dead.”

“I… I can talk to her for you.” I’m surprised at myself for offering this. Things like this have never gone well in the past.

“It’s okay,” The firefighter says. “I mean it. Really, don’t.”

Silence. I fidget with my jacket, worried I did something wrong. Snow is falling even heavier than before. I should be going home. I shouldn’t have sat down and talked, I’m just doing this wrong...

“I don’t want to remind her.” The firefighter speaks slowly, breaking the silence. “I’m gone, Gyeowool. I don’t belong here. I can’t…. can’t work for her so she doesn’t need to work until late, can’t clean up the house for her when she’s tired, can’t hold her hand and tell her I’m there when she walks home alone, crying for whatever reason. Probably because of me.”

I can’t say anything. Instead, I sit there, brows knitted.

“It’s okay. It’s better this way,” he says, smiling reassuringly. “This is all I can do, after all.”

The firefighter stands up and reaches his hand out. He carefully takes a step, and his fingers seem to stretch out as if they are going to touch the snow that’s falling.

Then I see a white barrier of some sort forming at the tip of his fingers, solidifying like ice. He puts his hand down and looks back at me. That must be the boundary of where he can be is the first thought that hits me, but I realize something odd. Shouldn’t this wall be gone now that he’s next to me? Doesn’t being in my presence allow him to leave?

I decide not to question ghost rules much more today.

The firefighter settles back down as the young lady strolls out of eyeshot. “Isn’t it a bit late for you to still be out?”

I’m suddenly reminded that I should be on my way home—should be at home, to be exact. It’s been 12 minutes since I got off my bus. The firefighter must see the panic in my eyes as I realize that and chuckles as I quickly stand up. Jimin follows suit.

“It was nice talking to you, still. Get home safe.” He waves. “Han Gyeowool and… Park Jimin, was it?”

“What’s your name?” I blurt out. Hooray for socializing with more ghosts.

He looks up at me, sitting down on the bench. For a moment, he looks like a real live person. Only for a split second.

“Bang Yongguk,” he answers with a deep voice.

_{we've reached the 10-chapter mark everyone!! i've actually been really excited to get to this chapter so i could introduce some of the other ghosts that inhabit gyeowool's city}

_{i've been on a writing spree this past week and a bit but starting with chapter 11 i'm hopefully going to be settling into a more regular schedule. i'm thinking maybe two updates a week...? we'll see ahaha}

_{alsO i took a few hours out of my day today to make and update the poster yayayaaa i feel so legit}

_{thanks for reading as always~}