A/N : Words - 3258, Enjoy reading and drop your comments. Thanks to my coauthor, can't wait to post the newest chapter. 

My matchmaker still on progress so support me, okay!!!

The first thing Jiyong noticed was the soft cushioned mass he was currently lying on, in a much more comfortable position than the face crushing limbs dangling little clump he’d remembered folding into just moments before. The next was the shocking but not at all threatening icy coldness that engulfed his body, causing an involuntary shiver to erupt from his frame.

Seungri felt Jiyong shift under the ghostly palm placed gently on his chest. He almost anticipated the sleeping human to spring awake and chase him out of the house again, but before he could retreat Jiyong’s eyebrows scrunched together as if fighting to keep his eyes closed and clamped a hand right through his own on the exact spot he had kept it, falling back into an easy slumber immediately after. Slowly, Seungri’s wide alert eyes began to soften.

Even a little more than a block away from the lot, the phantom could still scarcely hear Jiyong’s choked up apologies. He wasn’t sure that had made him finally turn back, were it up to his hard malicious heart all those years left alone had shaped it to be he would’ve never spared a second glance, but when he rushed back to the home he tried to abandon he knew he’d made the right decision. Once he untangled the arms and legs of the sniveling boy and setting him up properly on his back, Seungri lastly allowed himself to look at the man’s dirtied but serene face. Why would someone, let alone a self-centered human, weep so unconditionally for something that barely concerns him? If anything, he should be thankful that the ghost had stormed out, yet when staring at Jiyong he saw none of the satisfaction and relief he’d expected from all his days of people watching.

Along with being a bumbling mess Seungri had realized that Jiyong’s skin was blazing hot; a mere mortal would’ve jumped away on contact. Confused and frustrated with the man’s mixed signals, Seungri hesitantly skimmed his own frosty fingers upon areas he felt was the most heat concentrated and appropriate, moving across his forehead, neck, arms, shoulders, and ultimately stopping on his chest in the space closest to his heart.

He amused himself for a while just feeling the dimmed pitter patter of Jiyong’s heart beat. He wondered what it was like when he had a pulse. What it was like to lose that pulse.

Gradually getting more anxious, Seungri’s gaze flashed down to Jiyong’s sleeping physique puzzled as to why he had not woken up by now. People usually didn’t stay unconscious for so long did they? It didn’t help that his paranoia started to make him feel as though Jiyong’s drum was getting quieter.
 
The overgrown nagging sensation whispering into his ears refused to back down even as Seungri tried to rationalize the situation; Jiyong couldn’t have been dying, as puny and fragile as humans are, it took more than a crying fit to exhaust them out of living, yes? Soon Seungri began to curse his own uselessness, his world being so limited and out of touch with the rest that he do little but continue to be a witness. And even then I wouldn’t be able to say anything, because no one from this damned earth knows I exist. No one but him, anyway. The spirit’s thoughts spiraled dark and bleak. Still, he acknowledged as the lovely warming heat emanating from Jiyong’s body traveled up his arm and through the rest of his soul, this is nice. The moment was short-lived however when the warmth inched its way towards his heart that had been nothing but cold since the first time he woke up in this state. For just one second, he felt a light tingling in his chest. It made him feel so… alive, so almost human it scared him. He had to snatch his hand back before the false hope began to mess with his head.
 
Seungri had been very disappointed when the so called exorcist didn’t carry out his duties properly, but now all he could think about was the man lying helplessly on the couch with no sign of ever waking up. There were some scars on Jiyong’s calves that were blistering red, something that Seungri had overlooked in his hurry to cool off the feverishness of the man’s body. Now that he’s had time to calm himself down, the ghost lifted a no longer shaking hand to skim Jiyong’s marked legs. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, all he wanted was to touch the wounds and make them disappear. When his fingers all but passed right through the human’s flesh, Seungri let his arm fall limply back to his side. Once again he was proving to be utterly futile. Instead of feeling sorry for himself, he bowed his head and prayed for Jiyong’s life, and for if he were to die to not end up like Seungri had.

How can he be a hero when he can’t even hold on to anything? Pathetic, he’s going to die because of you!

"Don’t die on me now. Don’t you dare! Please God help him... Help him like you’ve never helped me." His soul began to weaken with the amount of strength he was using trying not to break down.
 
Jiyong was still in the rift between conscious and unconscious as he heard the ghost’s words slowly translate into his understanding. By the time his brain was finished processing he was left wondering if they were just a dream.
 
"I know you’re not an angel and I’ve bothered you for much too long. But as of now you’re my only hope! Aren’t all the people you encounter in your lifetime supposed to teach you something? I haven’t even accomplished anything yet!” If Seungri could feel anything he was sure that he would be pounding hard on to Jiyong’s rib cage right then. All he could do now was stare holes into the other’s slack face in hopes that he could just scare those eyelids open.
 
"I…I don’t even know my own name yet… God I’m pathetic.” Seungri bowed his head as what he believed was the inevitable inched closer the fainter Jiyong’s breaths started to become. While clenching his eyes shut to prevent any more tears being shed for this man, the spirit completely missed Jiyong’s minuscule twitch of his eyebrow in an internal fight to keep his unconscious charade going.

Curiousity had lastly won over as he slowly peeked out of the slits of his eyelids just to make sure he wasn’t still insensibly dreaming. Instead of sneakily stealing glances out of fear however, this time Jiyong was grateful to see the other side of the ghost as long as he was able to continue playing dead; a gentle and soft-hearted essence that surprisingly doesn’t want to rip his body to shreds despite what he had tried to do. Maybe he’s not so inhuman, maybe he’s not as much of a ghost as he thinks.

Could it be that he was just a lost soul wanting to find his body again? 
Bingo... Seems like one of those cheesy rom-com movies or dramas that always gets aired reruns of on television. 
 
Throughout Jiyong’s internal epiphany, Seungri busied himself with checking his body several times to ensure that the strange fever was calming down. Whenever his hands touched the human, he began to realize, it was as if a sprinkle of ice crystals flowed from his palm towards Jiyong, only to disappear almost immediately after in a border-lining invisible fog of steam because of the temperature. Along with the contrast of hot and cold Seungri could feel a sudden intense burning anger bury deep into his chest, while in turn Jiyong experienced a moment of prof