The second Taemin crossed the doorstep and found himself outside, his breath stuttered, his eyes got all glazy, and he seemed to curl inside himself a little bit, overwhelmed by the sudden space.

Only then you realized how hard it may be for him. He knows how the world looks like right now from the TV, but he'll have to face his memories, hordes of people, new sounds, new everything. He spend over 20 years in a closed space, in a house that he knew too well for his own good, and here he was, sky high above him  again, everything so big and menacing.

"You okay?" You asked. You were both standing on the porch. You closed the door to the house, making sure it takes you more than two minutes so Taemin can get use to the space at least a little and not feel too  embarrassed by his insecurity. "Need some more time? Because we can totally sit down if you want, we don't have to go anywhere."

"Yeah," Taemin gasped. "Yeah, sitting is great."

You spend half an hour sitting on a porch and thank god it was warm. The sun was slowly setting around the horizon and Taemin seemed mesmerized by it.

"Okay, ready? I want you to see the sunset from a nice spot," you said, almost nudging him with your elbow out of a habit, before you remembered that you can't touch him yet. You stood up and Taemin silently followed you.

He was dragging his feet and walking behind you. There wasn't anyone in the neighbourhood until you reached one of the schools and some people started to show up. Taemin looked scared and you really wanted to take his hand, but 1) you couldn't touch him, 2) it would be weird to hold onto thin air. You had to remember that nobody beside you could see Taemin, so talking to him was... Yeah, talking to him was a no go. You had to think how to skip that option.

It wasn't long until you'd gotten to the river. Taemin's eyes widened at some point and you could see him shaking, although he didn't say a word. You kept quiet too.

You sat on a little platform stretching out on the river. There was a group of friends not so far away, two couples, and a family with a kid sitting nearby. You also spotted an old man sitting under the tree on the shore.

Taemin sat beside you, looking around lazily, his eyes sharp, focused, but his body movements very slow and unsure. He was staring at his feet dangling above the water's surface. It has gotten orange because of the sun and it was truly beautiful.

"I used to come here too," Taemin whispered then, biting his lip and looking as if telling you this hurts him more than anything. "It was one of my favourite places. It wasn't that save back in my days, and I, together with my friends, used to jump right in the middle. Every time we ended up on a police station, even though it was our lifes we put in danger," he chuckled. "I lost my first phone here. Never saw it again. Got a beating from my dad and had to survive without a cell for the next year because we didn't have any cash to get one."

Wow, that was a long sentence.

"Would you like to see your parents again?" You whispered as quiet as you could, leaning your head on your crossed arms, since you put them on a barrier. Taemin seemed lost and hurt.

"I don't know," he answered.

The sun set. It was getting cold, and you started shivering, and soon, you were the only people left on the platform. Taemin wanted to stay longer for sure, but he was the first one to stand up when he saw you getting cold.

The way back home was quiet. You took another path, this time going around the school, so he could see how the city has changed. He was dazed, taking everything in, pointing at something from time to time and asking "where did it go?", "what happened with that building?", "what is it now?".  And you answered and it was nice. It was incredibly nice. It was also weird and honestly, you never imagined that you would be hanging out with Taemin outside your house.

You were squeezing the ring on your finger almost all the time. It fit, but it felt itchy on your skin, like something wasn't right about it. Later that night you put it on a nech-chain so it wouldn't get in your way.

*

"Okay," you said, plopping down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. Taemin shushed you, focused on the TV, but you ignored him. "Here's the deal. You go everywhere that ring goes," you showed him the ring proudly, making a wide gesture at it, "so every time you want to go outside, you tell me, and I take it. But I won't always take it with me, because I want some privacy too, and since you can't go out with the ring so I can have some privacy at home, I'll go outside and have some privacy outside."

"Yeah," Taemin mumbled, still focused on the show. You made a face at him and threw popcorn at him, but  he didn't even flinch as it flew right past his eye. "You'll just make a mess and have to clean it," he added, smirking, and you growled, wanting terribly to punch him.

You watched with him for the next twenty minutes, until there was an idea slowly creeping in your mind and
you couldn't get it out of your head, so you started talking again.

"What if-"

"Oh for 's sake, can't you hold your tounge for at least half an hour without talking? Because I really want to watch this ," Taemin growls, and you roll your eyes, making sure your eyeballs are almost white. You huff out a breath, like a child throwing a tantrum, and fold your arms.

You manage to spend the next ten minutes being quiet, and then Taemin ruffles his hair a bit too violently and growls.

"Okay, okay, speak up," he says, turning his whole body to face you. It makes your stomach flutter, actually; he wants to watch a show, but your feelings are more important than TV. You feel all fluffy inside so you smile and you can swear that his expression softens at your sight.

"So you can open the drawers, open and close the doors and everything. Have you ever tried holding things? Like, lifting them up and taking somewhere?"

"So I could, for example, take the ring and carry it with me all the time?" The boy asks, and you nod. "No. I mean, I tried, but catching things is really hard and tiring. It may sound funny, but it really is."

"That's weird that souls can get tired."

"It's not a physical tired. I don't know how to explain it. It's- weird, I don't know."

That kinda ends it, until seven minutes later you say that he could train, and Taemin nods and says that he will.

"Hey," you whisper in the night, when you're almost asleep and Taemin is reading a book on the other side of the room. He can't hold the whole book, but he can flip the pages, so that's something. "What if I asked you to scare someone outside? Or, like, I'd say that I have some supernatural powers and you'd use your ghosty mojo and make something move on its own? That would be so cool."

Taemin snorts and looks at you.

"I thought that saying stuff like this made your primary school a living hell?"

"Yeah, but that's because those were lies. Right now I wouldn't lie, and supernatural things would really happen, just... No one would know that I'm not the one who causes them."

"You've got someone particular in mind?"

"Yeah," you grin, and Taemin makes a face.

"Wow, you're creepy."

"Perks of living with a ghost for seventeen years," you say, yawning, and you can see Taemin's soft smile before you fall asleep.

*

"Hi," you say, bending down on the desk and looking down. The same librarian from the day earlier is on his knees, looking for something in his drawers. He looks up, frowns and for a few seconds doesn't recognize you at all, and then he stands up and looks like he wants to hug you. You just smile and he awkwardly takes a step back.

"Hello. So, I found the paper," he says.

"You did?" your voice is hopeful and a bit wavering. Taemin isn't with you. He wasn't ready for a school full of running teenagers and crowd-y hallways. The librarian pulls out a folder with some cut-outs and hands it to you.

"Can I ask why are you so interested with him?" The old man asks.

"He's family," you say quickly, without a thought. "But my parents don't know a lot about him, and all the relatives that could have any information are out of my reach. Someone told me about him when I was small, but I was too young to do my own research, so. I remembered his story some time ago and decided  to give it a try, out of curiosity, I guess. He wasn't much older than me when he died," the last words are really hard to spill out. It actually physically hurts to acknowledge his death.

You open the folder and look at the photos first. Everything is black and white, there's a photo of a car wreck and Taemin's face in the corner. The title says 'Tragic end of a trip: two people dead.”

Your breath stutters.

"I'm gonna sit there, okay?" You say, pointing at the table in the corner, where it's dark and quiet. "Thank you so much for your help."

"Anytime," the librarian says, nodding and disappearing in the store room. You walk to the table and unfold all the
cut-outs, all the articles, and brace yourself for a ride.

After you're done, there's an unpleasant feeling setting in your gut, and you look at the photos with resignation. Taemin was simply being too reckless on the road. He crossed the speed limit. And maybe nothing would've happened
if not a drunk guy who was crossing the same intersection as him in the same second. If the drunken guy would see that his light is red, and if Taemin wasn't in such a hurry, there would be no crash, and they'd both be alive. Where Taemin was so eager to get to, why was he in such a hurry, no one knows, no one says. But you recognize the intersection because you pass it almost every day on your way to school and you passed it with Taemin on your way to the river.

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

"Eun Ri?"

You jump. You honest-to-god jump in your seat, your knee hitting the desk from under, and your elbow painfully bumping the edge of the chair. You growl and hiss and turn around in the same time and you're probably red, and fuming, but you don't care because you recognize that voice and it really pisses you off.

Apparently Choi Minho is the only living person who can scare the crap out of you. Because it's not like you've been living with a ghost your whole life.

You don't know if you should be angry or just give up and let him talk and be mean so just you can go home and not care about his stupid opinions. You settle for the latter, because you're completely out of energy to be angry, too many important things is going on in your life to take Minho seriously.

"Alright, go ahead, I'm listening," you say, sending him the brightest smile you can and lazily picking up the papers from the table. Minho is dumbfounded and he hides his hands in his pockets, sheepish.

"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," he says.

You snort and downright laugh. He looks very confused.

"Yeah, Minho, get to the point," you say, passing him with an unamused smirk. When you reach the librarian's desk, you thank him once more and ask him if you can have one piece of the articles. The old man gives it to you and wish you luck and you almost forget that there's a frog sitting on your tail.

"I really didn't mean to annoy you," the frog continues as you make your way towards the exit. You frown  and he suddenly opens the door for you. You frown even deeper, looking at him with 'what-are-you-doing' look. "I never meant to be such a jerk to you. Even when we were younger. I-"

He stops and grabs your wrist, and you feel your skin burn under his touch. You shake it out of a habit, and Minho lets you go, startled. Your heart pounds in your chest and it's weird.

"I don't care," you say simply, turning on your heel, but it doesn’t come out as venomously as you intend it to.

*

Once you're home, Taemin demands you to take him out. And it sounds so funny that you laugh louder than in a long time. You agree, but only if he helps you with your homework, which he does.

It's past 5 pm when you get a message and frown at your phone. You pick it up and Taemin is suddenly right beside you, his hand shooting out and tries to snatch it from your grip. He doesn’t get a proper hold; his fingers seem to slide right through the plastic, but when you look down, the screen is dark and the phone is completely unresponsive. You think for a moment that maybe it was accidentally switched off, but when you try to start it up, it stays completely blank.

“What did you do?” You accuse him, taking the battery out and putting it back in to see if it helps. It doesn’t.

“I told you I’m a bit rusty. I’m still getting the hang of this stuff.” Taemin says, as if it's a perfect explaination for him suddenly trying to snatch your phone away.

Your glare intensifies as you realise that you're going to have to buy a new phone.

"Why would you even try to snatch it away?" You ask, dumbfounded.

"I've been trying to hold things. As you can see, I'm not too good at it yet," he answers, nodding, and there's a blush on his cheek. You snort and then growl and Taemin looks scared.

"Okay, that was a move," he agrees, showing his hands in a defensive gesture. "And I did it on an impulse. I'm sorry."

You're too tired to be mad. You take him to the river and he stops at the place he died; he doesn't say a word, and you don't ask, because he doesn't know you know. Then he takes you to the old cinema. It was replaced with a swimming pool, but there's this big piece of brick wall they didn't remove from the old building, and Taemin tries to touch it, only to see his hand disappearing inside it.

You bite your lip at the sight of his confused and disappointed expression.

*
 

You think about how Taemin still acts like the 19-year-old boy that he died as instead of acting like a middle-aged man that he theoretically is.

You wonder if the age thing is simply something invented because of our physicality, or if he got deprived from being able to fully mature due to the experience he’d get if he’d grow up.

You watch him trying to hold a little rubber band in his head and growling as he fails at it; then he stares at the rubber band as if trying to make it submit to it, and outright sulks.

He’s 42, he died. He still acts like a child.

But sometimes there’re glimpses of his real nature, of his damaged soul.

*

“Taemin?” you call out, wondering if maybe he’s up to something, but there’s no answer.

You take a tentative step forward into the living room and that’s when something shifts in the corner of your eye and you almost slam your fist right through Taemin’s face. At least, you think it’s Taemin’s face.

“What are you doing?” you ask, trying to keep your thundering heart in your chest.

“I’ve been practicing with your belongings,” Taemin points out, which is apparently true, but you didn’t expect it to be with your sheets. One of which Taemin is currently wearing to look like some sort of ghost from Scooby Doo. You suppose you should just be glad that he hasn’t cut eye-holes in them.

“Very funny,” you say sarcastically, hating the way Taemin laughs and follows you through to the kitchen anyway, as though he doesn’t believe you.

“It took me all afternoon to do this. Also, I scared some kids earlier and I think you would have been proud.”

You slam the fridge shut after grabbing some juice and turn to frown at him.

“What did you do?” You ask, curiosity taking over.

You pull the sheet from over Taemin’s head, bundle it up and toss it onto the table. Taemin looks faintly sheepish but shrugs and smiles anyway.

“There was a bunch of them walking home from school, so I stood in front of the upstairs window wearing this and when they looked over, I shrugged it off and they ran away screaming. Possibly the best moment of my life, ever, if I’m honest.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, but there’s a smile slowly creeping onto your lips, and you burst out laughing at your own mental image; Taemin grins, pleased with himself, and goes to pick the sheet up again. You make a proud hum at him.

“I’m impressed,” you say. “Does that mean you can carry the ring with you?”

“No, not yet,” he shakes his head. “Only light stuff. Feathers, sheets, papers, et cetera,” he plays with the sheet in his hands. “But it still feels great. I can’t believe I never tried to lift stuff before.”

“It must’ve been lonely for you before I could see you,” you say, not caring it if sounds arrogant; you know that it’s true. If you’d have to spend over a decade without being able to talk to anyone, but still having to see people every day, you’d go nuts.

You never actually talked without Taemin about your father, even though you knew he probably got to meet him before he moved away; he sometimes mentioned you as a baby (“you were so cute back then, so quiet and squishy,”), so he must’ve knows your father as well.

Still, he never mentioned him ever.

You were grateful for that.

*

You spend the next day in the library. The librarian gives you all the magazines he has about Taemin and by reading about him you also find many different stories about teenagers from that time, and you find yourself incredibly interested in them. You read about a girl your age who saved a kid from a burning house, about a brave guy who pulled his brother out from a car that fell into the river; you also read about kidnappings, suicides and you quickly go from teenage heroes to teenage ‘failures’ as the magazine says (and you can’t believe that they could name it like that, you want to write to the editor and tell him what a jerk he is, only the magazines are over 40 years old).

Turns out that the librarian keeps all these stories because they’re about the people he knew from school, kids who genuinely loved the library and were his friends. He tells you that he was like a priest – he knew about each one of them because they shared their secrets with him, told him about their troubles and problems. He knew who was going out with who, which dad hit whose mom, who cheated on whom, who was having a hard time because of their grades, who had what dream-

“But Taemin never told me anything about him,” he admits sadly. “The kid was so mysterious. I could see that he was troubled a few days before his death, but I couldn’t convince him to tell me why. I was devastated when I found out what happened. I still think that maybe, if I would give him some kind of advice then, he wouldn’t be so reckless and-“

You listen to him talk. It’s probably the first time he confides to someone else and not someone to him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you tell him. “He’s reckless anyway. Was.” , you think, and quickly try to cover your mistake with a babble. “He’d act the same anyway. My mom told me he was always like that. Not that my mom knew him,” you frown. . Think, Eun Ri, think.

“What I want to say,” you take a deep breath. “As you’re saying, he was mysterious, so he probably wouldn’t share his troubles anyway. It wasn’t your fault as all. I’m sure he doesn’t blame you.”

The librarian is too deeply in self-loathing to think about your weird behavior. But there’s a pair of eyes watching you from the corner of the room and you turn to see Minho again.

Seriously, this guy is everywhere.

Maybe he’s stalking me, you think idly, only then a little girl comes out from between the shelves and pokes him on his thigh. Minho jerks his head towards her, asks her something and she nods, ponytails jumping with her as she does. Minho puts a book he was holding back onto the shelf and makes his way towards the librarian, small girl in tow; she hands him a comic book and he puts it on the counter.

“This one please,” he say to the librarian. You make some space for him, ready to go back to your usual table, when he says, “hi.”

You frown, look to your side because you’re convinced someone else said it. But there’s no one you know around and you turn towards the boy. He smiles softly at you.

“Hi?” You say, glancing at the librarian, back at Minho and then making your way to the table.

Your stomach is doing weird things.

sorry for a long wait!

also, just a little heads-up: this story is tagged SAD for a reason, guys. I suspect that most of you won't like the ending of it, so I just want you to know that if you still want to continue reading it anyway, you're awesome.

a few more chapters to go.