Frustration.  It seemed to be the only thing he felt anymore.  He wasn’t sure when the relief and joy at actually waking up to familiar faces had given way to helplessness and futile, mute raging but they had.  Most days Taekwoon was fully aware of what was going on around him, taking in the sights and sounds and smells as they arose, but wholly unable to respond like he wanted to.  It was a maddening reality and it certainly didn’t help that he could see the same emotion on Hakyeon’s face when Taekwoon couldn’t do anything.

                No.  It only fueled the frustration and anger and irritation further.  Add to that the fact that he could actually see Wonshik when he was around and it was a recipe that must have been designed to test the limits of his ability to remain sane.  Then again, having the specter nearby did help at times since, unlike Hakyeon or anyone else for that matter, Taekwoon could see and hear the other man.

                He looked much like he had the last time he’d seen him on the Rovix actually: bright orange hair sticking up with his pilot’s uniform rumpled around him and a perpetual grin on his face.  Though the smile seemed to be slipping more of late and it was painful in another way to see how the specter looked down at the sleeping Hakyeon in the bedroom.

                We can’t help him at all can we?

                The question was rhetorical in nature, Taekwoon knew, but he would have loved to have been able to answer.  At least outside of his own mind anyway.  As it was, he simply blinked at the specter and tried to shake his head.  The attempt prompted a twitch in his neck, though no actual movement, and Taekwoon sighed to himself.  Neither of them could do a damn thing but at least Wonshik could sort of hold Hakyeon.

                Before, when Hakyeon was first discovering who the specter was, Wonshik touching him had been frightening.  It was the cold chill he couldn’t explain; the feeling of being followed with no reason; the thought that someone was always watching him.  And when he had finally pieced it together somehow or other, Taekwoon was jealous because the ghost could make Hakyeon smile when he couldn’t.  Of course he was ersely grateful too, but there was no denying the fact he resented Wonshik’s freedom and ability to affect Hakyeon while Taekwoon himself was stuck on the bed or in his hover chair: little more than a human potato.

                At least you’re not dead, Wonshik turned his attention to Taekwoon as if he could hear his thoughts.  He hadn’t figured that part out yet but it seemed reasonable enough, really.  Ghosts weren’t supposed to be real but there was no doubt this one was.  Why wouldn’t he be able to read Taekwoon’s mind or at least hear what he was thinking?

                But no.  He wasn’t.  For all the good it did him.  It was yet another thing that had happened when he was unconscious for that ungodly amount of time before he woke to this infuriating prison of a body.  And Hakyeon did not talk about what happened except for when he dreamed.  Even then, his words were mumbled in fitful bursts of speech that only gave Taekwoon glimpses of what might have happened.  Lately, the dreams and nightmares had finally started to subside, leaving them both to silence.  It was a mixed blessing.

                Why won’t you get better?

                The question cut deep and Taekwoon had to wonder why too.  All the doctors explained he was physically healed, but some combination of being in space for too long and whatever happened after had resulted in an almost total inability for the mental commands in his head to reach the rest of his body.  Just because he knew that didn’t make it any easier to accept though and he glared at the ghost.  It wasn’t like he wanted to be this way.

                They remained at a stalemate, just regarding each other with Hakyeon caught in the middle.  He might have been pressed up against Taekwoon’s body, nearly wrapped around it in fact, but Wonshik was the one who could touch him of his own accord.  The specter laid his hand upon Hakyeon’s shoulder, fingers incorporeal but obviously having an effect when the other man pressed closer to Taekwoon, arms hugging tight around his chest.  The prolonged contact made him whimper in his sleep though, and something about the sound made Taekwoon want to shove Wonshik away, to keep him from touching Hakyeon anymore.

                Maybe the specter heard his thoughts again or just didn’t want to hear the sound himself, for his expression changed briefly, brows knitting together and lips pursed, before he stepped back, withdrawing his hand.  He needs us, you know, Wonshik sighed with a shake of his head, hand balling into a fist.

                Even without being able to hear his thoughts, it was clear to Taekwoon the specter was probably thinking about what happened to bring them to this state of affairs.  The stars knew he thought about it enough himself.

                He needs you, he finally snapped at Taekwoon, a flash of anger darkening his face, the reaction both a physical feeling and seen on the specter’s pale face.  Shadowy color washed over his visage like a sheet being pulled across a bed before it was gone as if it had never been.  He needs me, Wonshik added, deflating at the realization he was nothing more than a ghost.

                Taekwoon swallowed and kept his gaze trained on Wonshik then.  He didn’t mind the ghost and his concern for Hakyeon most days.  They’d been an item before him and Hakyeon, and they were still good friends.  Star shards.  If Hakyeon was to be believed, Wonshik was the reason Taekwoon had been found in the first place, so he was indebted to him, of course.  But there were times he was uneasy with the way the specter looked at them.

                Things weren’t supposed to stick around after they died.  Ghosts weren’t supposed to be real.  If nothing else, he knew that Wonshik needed to move on, but Taekwoon didn’t know how to make that happen.  And most days, he didn’t know how to feel about him still being there: grateful, annoyed, jealous, angry…  Sometimes all of them.

                But there were moments, few and far between though they were, that Taekwoon felt nervous.  He wasn’t afraid.  Wonshik didn’t want to hurt either of them, he knew.  But the way he looked at him or Hakyeon sometimes set his hair on end.  Like the way he was looking at Hakyeon right now.  It was as if Taekwoon didn’t even exist.  And that didn’t sit right with him at all.

                He wanted to tell Wonshik to go away.  To leave them alone so they could rest in peace for the night.  Sleep was rare enough as it was.  But while his mind raged to make something happen, his body remained unresponsive.  Even so, when he blinked hard to try and focus better, Wonshik was gone as he opened his eyes, leaving him utterly alone with Hakyeon and his always racing thoughts once more.

                Nights were the worst time of day for Taekwoon: when he was left alone, as he wanted, but unable to interact with the world at large.  It was a special kind of torture to have the man he deeply cared for holding him since he was utterly unable to do anything in response.  Still, it was better than no contact at all, and for that, he would gladly endure such torture.

                It just often made for restless nights.

                Things were better during the day though.  Breakfast was usually his and Hakyeon’s alone since Wonshik tended to give them that time, allowing them whatever peace they could get in such brief moments.  But then Hakyeon had to go to work, and for whatever reason, Wonshik never followed him there.  Hakyeon stayed home with Taekwoon as long as he could but as he’d often said, bills needed to be paid and honestly, who would want to stay next to an invalid all day long?  The thought made Taekwoon sad and angry in equal measure, though the latter was directed at himself.

                Had it not been for Wonshik and the personal aids that came to make sure he was doing alright, Taekwoon wasn’t sure what he would have done.  Especially before he regained at least a little mobility in his hands: enough to work the controls on his hover chair and turn the holo-vid on anyway.  It wouldn’t drown out Wonshik’s voice, but it certainly made for decent background noise, even if he didn’t care what was actually playing most days.

                I wonder how this one gets his hair to stand up like that, Wonshik mused while the current nurse checked on Taekwoon, taking his vitals separate from the ones that were constantly monitored by being in the hover chair.  The question made Taekwoon want to chuckle and he looked at Wonshik instead, watching the ghost poking at the upright strands of dark brown crowning the young man in front of him without distracting the boy at all.  He was new and Taekwoon didn’t really bother with trying to keep their names straight.

                They were often too cheerful for his tastes, trying to get some reaction out of him with sheer energy and what he presumed they thought were good bedside manners.  Hakyeon was the only one he allowed such frivolity and that was because he actually liked the other man.  At least they were almost done.  The nurse would feed him, a demeaning reality that Wonshik occasionally for, and then head out to whatever other patients he needed to check on.

                That would leave Taekwoon alone with Wonshik if the ghost felt like staying nearby.  Sometimes he disappeared entirely too, but more often than not he stayed.  It almost felt like they were stuck together or something.  The galaxies knew Wonshik was a target Taekwoon could focus on.  Maybe it was better he couldn’t actually talk to the specter some days…

                But when he wasn’t in a dark mood about his own infirmity, and especially when he was in the living room or den where all the old fashioned pictures Hakyeon had were kept, Wonshik would talk.  Even when alive, he could talk and often did so at length, when he wasn’t sleeping anyway.  But the dead didn’t need to sleep apparently and so he tailed Taekwoon and prattled on and on about the stories behind the pictures.

                There was the one just before he and Ken ambushed Hyuk with a surprise attack in the engine room that consisted mostly of tickling and laughter.  He could describe the ins and outs of a photo during one of their rare picnics that Taekwoon recalled with crystal clarity, though he wasn’t sure Wonshik did.  Another showed Hongbin celebrating a birthday, grinning hugely while Hakyeon made him blow out the candle on the cake.  They had humored him the old fashioned tradition and it had only been Taekwoon’s quiet and mostly unseen interference that kept the group from turning the occasion into a cake fight.  Neither thought Hakyeon knew how close he’d been to being covered in the sweet dessert.

                The group photos were the best and something Taekwoon and Wonshik could at least share the memories of.  But when the specter lingered too long on the images of him and Hakyeon or Taekwoon and Hakyeon alone… the mood shifted and the air felt chilly.

                Taekwoon maneuvered his hover chair closer to the mantle to get a better look at the picture Wonshik was currently staring at.  Ghostly fingers traced against the edge of the photo featuring him and Hakyeon, recalling a time when they were both alive and before they’d ever set out into space as a team.

                We were happy.

                That much was abundantly clear in the image.  Both of them actually, even if Taekwoon wasn’t smiling as much as Wonshik in the picture right next to his.  Neither of them were smiling now though.  And the look that Wonshik Taekwoon in the next moment was unreadable, dark eyes hard enough to figure out without the added trouble of them being only partially corporeal.

                ‘So were we.’

                Back to the stalemate again.  Their single most common connection left between them was also their biggest point of contention.  Hakyeon.

                They both wanted to help him, to be there for him, and neither was in much condition to do anything.  What good could a nearly catatonic invalid and a specter that could neither talk to nor physically touch Hakyeon actually do to make him happy?  In their present conditions: nothing.  And that galled both of them, Taekwoon knew.

                It was never more clear than when Hakyeon got home after work, when he tried to put on a brave face and act like everything was alright.  He was good at acting, but for people like Taekwoon and Wonshik, who were still quite close to him, they could see right through it.

                “Dinner’s almost ready, Taekwoonie,” Hakyeon smiled over his shoulder, the weary expression forced but still halfway genuine.  It was easy enough for him to conjure a smile for the hover chair bound man, though the warmth wasn’t always there anymore.

                He was getting tired too.  Taekwoon could see it in his face and the way his shoulders slumped when he thought no one could see.  Wonshik could see it too.  And neither liked it.

                When Hakyeon looked back to the food cooking on the stove, Wonshik crossed his arms next to the other man and glared at Taekwoon.  Dammit!  Get out of that chair and hold him! he practically growled, pointing at Hakyeon with his finger.

                ‘I can’t.’  The thought filled Taekwoon with frustrated anger which threatened to turn on Wonshik as well.

                The specter scowled at him and turned to Hakyeon instead, trying to hug him from behind.  His form didn’t hold to the boundaries between them and the embrace looked off from afar, their bodies blending as if trying to merge.

                Hakyeon stiffened and his head bowed, hands pausing in their work.  “Wonshik please…” he trailed off, voice tired and filled with poorly suppressed pain.

                A shadow flickered over Wonshik’s form then, like it had when Taekwoon had seen the color trail across his face at night.  ‘Leave him alone.’

                I can’t help him, Wonshik lamented, trying to hold tighter though it wouldn’t work.  He needs me and I can’t help him at all.

                ‘You can help him by moving on.’  The thought was unintentionally blunt and it felt harsh in his head.  Wonshik must have heard it too, for he looked at Taekwoon then, the expression hurt and upset.  It was true though.  Hakyeon often wished for nothing more than Wonshik to find peace and move on, but the specter never heard or chose not to listen.

                Despite his proximity, Wonshik blinked when Hakyeon moved right through him, bustling about the kitchen to get ready to eat.  He looked more tired to Taekwoon.  More drained, but he set about to feeding him first.  It always worried Taekwoon when he couldn’t see Hakyeon eat.  He doubted the other man was taking care of himself like he needed to, which wasn’t helping anybody either.

                Wonshik was mercifully silent during dinner most nights, but on the specter’s face, Taekwoon could see the emotions he felt.  Often they shifted fluidly from one expression to the next, hard to pin down and frustrating to watch.  There was longing there when he focused on Hakyeon, watching as the other man fed Taekwoon one slow bite at a time.  And jealousy too, in the shared tender touches that Hakyeon bestowed on Taekwoon.  Fingers carding through his hair or a chaste kiss on his forehead were met with a pained frown or ignored entirely.

                And while Taekwoon did not delight in Wonshik’s misery, he did feel vindicated for his own reactions when he saw the specter with Hakyeon in turn.  Granted, none of it changed the fact how angry and frustrated he continued to be with himself for never getting better.  Not with any speed that would have mollified him at any rate.  And every time Hakyeon broke down near them, spilling tears onto his lap or shoulders, his guilt compounded exponentially.

                Despite the fact that Taekwoon was indeed alive, there did not seem to be much happiness that came from that fact.  It was beginning to show too.  On all of them.

                In his darkest moments, Taekwoon wondered if it might have been better if he’d never been found in the first place.  His sentiment was matched on occasion by Wonshik who sometimes muttered under his breath similar thoughts.

                Never should have listened to him.  Taekwoon figured he must have been talking about Hakyeon or something he’d said.

                He should have died instead of me.  That might have been referring to Taekwoon but he wasn’t sure since he didn’t know the details of how Wonshik had died anyway.

                I should be the one taking care of him.  He knew that was meant for Hakyeon.

                And every time Taekwoon heard Wonshik speaking such things, he had to wonder if the specter remembered he could hear him.  The increasingly shrouded in shadow figure would sometimes turn and look at Taekwoon as if just realizing he was there, almost appearing to come back to himself for a time.

                He didn’t like the change.  It worried him in addition to everything else he already had on his mind.  And it frustrated him further when he couldn’t talk to Hakyeon to tell him what he was thinking or feeling or wanted or any of those things.  Just like Wonshik couldn’t either.

                What was worse, Taekwoon worried about the way that Wonshik would just stare at Hakyeon in the dead of night, after the other man had fallen asleep.  Exhausted as he was, sleep never took long to catch him, and Taekwoon would lie awake for hours after, keeping useless guard as their specter just stood there.  He didn’t speak to Taekwoon though his lips moved as if he was saying something and his face was shadowed, lacking the usual vibrancy and quality of life he had started with when Wonshik had first appeared.  The dark eyes looked glossy and faded and whenever he tried to touch Hakyeon while he slept, the other man pulled away with a whimper.  It wasn’t always enough to make the specter stop.

                ‘Go away.’  The firm thought was accompanied by the barest of reactions from Taekwoon: he managed to ball his hand into a loose fist.  It was more than he’d accomplished in months and it was more than enough to draw Wonshik’s attention.

                Still touching Hakyeon’s shoulder, the specter looked at him for a long moment, as unreadable and opaque as ever.  His eyes narrowed marginally, almost like he was going to challenge him, but then the moment was past and Wonshik just vanished from sight, leaving Hakyeon to relax against Taekwoon’s body, his face smoothing into a peaceful expression once more.

                The specter gone for the time being, Taekwoon opened his fist and took a small breath.  Sleep would be a long time coming for him again.