It only takes one day of not seeing Minseok to drive Lu Han almost mad.

This is different from the time when he was practicing with the bottle all alone. He had claimed that he had been staying away from his friend back then, but that wasn’t the entire truth. Lu Han had sometimes poked his head out of the ceiling of the dance studio just to take a sneak peek at Minseok’s dancing. He had been making sure the other was doing fine before flying back to the abandoned bottle, fully determined to grab it this time.

But this is different. It’s 8 am and Minseok’s nowhere to be seen. He should have been here ages ago, exercising and trying to lose some non-existent fat on the treadmill. (Lu Han doesn’t understand it. He likes Minseok’s body the way it is, but the elder doesn’t listen to his protests.) Instead Lu Han finds himself getting more anxious by the second when there’s still no sight of the other. He’s checked everywhere: the gym, dance studio, classrooms. He’s even followed Sehun and Jongdae around, the two people he’s seen Minseok hang out with the most lately, and still come out empty handed. It’s one thing not to be able to talk to Minseok because the other is pissed at him. He’s been there before, and while it’s not fun, at least Minseok’s still around. But this? This is Lu Han wanting to take a look at the elder’s plump face but not having a chance to do so. How is he supposed to be concentrating on his ghost training or singing lessons when he hasn’t had his breakfast yet?! (He may have imagined biting Minseok’s round baozi cheeks more often than he should, but that’s probably only because he was a fan of steamed buns when he was still alive.) Lu Han is forced to do the unthinkable and reveal a very unmanly side of himself, just lying on the floor in agony, trying not to think about how much he wants to see Minseok’s face. Even if just for a second.

His wish comes true two days later.

“Where were you!?” Lu Han all but yells when he’s blessed with the sight of full cheeks again, hidden behind a white face mask. He wishes he was a properly educated ghost, so he could use his powers and remove that stupid mask. Aside from the cheeks, he really misses seeing Minseok’s naturally pouty lips. Lu Han finds it funny how Minseok doesn’t think he’s good-looking. While Lu Han sometimes hates his own face for being too pretty and not manly enough, he appreciates Minseok’s beautiful face. He’s been trying to make the elder understand how nice his round, pale cheeks look, but Minseok acts like he doesn’t hear the ghost. Or if he’s already in a bad mood, Lu Han finds himself being grabbed by the neck. Or rather just Minseok’s hand going through his neck. Still highly uncomfortable for the both of them. Minseok’s eyes are catlike. They look clever and Lu Han can’t wait to see the day someone applies stage make-up on them. He bets they’ll look even more gorgeous. He’s been telling as much to Minseok, but the elder always shrugs things like that off, getting all embarrassed when Lu Han is just trying to give him some more self-confidence without mentioning shower dances again.

Trying to boost Minseok’s ego isn’t something the ghost does only for fun. After all, Lu Han now has another dream. He still wants to debut, and now he wants to do it together with Minseok. And the sooner Minseok gets all confident about himself, the sooner he’s going to debut. With Lu Han, hopefully. He still has no idea how it’s going to happen, but the ghost doesn’t want to worry about it now, not when Minseok’s finally back.

“I was sick.” Minseok’s voice is still hoarse and muffled by the mask. Lu Han can imagine it, Minseok being all sweaty and red-faced, lying on the bed, whimpering softly and his breathing being all heavy.

… Because he was sick. Lu Han has to blink just to make himself remember that. He decides to include safer details in his thoughts. Minseok coughing, drinking warm soup, probably sneezing for the hundredth time. He doesn’t dare to speak again until he’s sure his thoughts are all proper.

“You shouldn’t leave me alone. What if I become evil and start haunting people for real?” Lu Han rants, floating alongside Minseok while the other is climbing a staircase.

Behind his mask, Minseok snorts. “Yeah, you could probably annoy someone to their early death.”

“I wouldn’t…!”

“Or talk about ManU so much you drive someone to the point of insanity.”

“I don’t…! Is that how you really see me?” Lu Han doesn’t mean to sound hurt, because he’s a manly man (or a manly ghost) and getting hurt by something like that would be rather pathetic of him. Yet he can’t ignore the sting inside him, and it’s not because of Minseok’s arm accidentally touching him. Apparently he’s not that good at masking his emotions despite all the acting classes, because Minseok eyes suddenly look apologetic.

“No, of course not. I was just joking.”

Lu Han nods. Of course Minseok’s joking. He’s not really annoyed with Lu Han. If he were, that would be the end of the world for Lu Han. Again. Imagine not getting along with the one person that can actually talk to you. Maybe that’s how bitter killer ghosts are born. They accidentally talked about their favorite football team a bit too much and suddenly noticed they were all alone again, having chased their only friend away.

Maybe admitting Messi is actually a quality player will make Minseok hate him less. Lu Han opens his mouth, ready to praise Barcelona’s star player, but the elder speaks first.

“Lu Han. You’re not annoying. In fact, I do like you and I hope we can make you debut soon.” Minseok’s voice is all gentle despite his sore throat, and Lu Han is having a hard time fighting off the tears trying to form in the corners of his eyes.  He likes Minseok too. The elder is a great friend, and yes, by now they surely are friends. He’s not going to doubt that anymore or wonder whether he should call Minseok an acquaintance or something else. You don’t go mad over not seeing an acquaintance for three days. That’s friendship for you. A very manly friendship.

“Okay”, the ghost nods, not quite knowing what to say next. Minseok doesn’t speak either, just pulls out his cellphone and sits on the floor. They’ve reached their safe place. A hallway on the upper floors of the training building, where anyone rarely comes until it’s way past the afternoon. Lu Han sits next to the other, leaving a tiny space between them so they won’t feel the cold shocks touching each other causes. He takes a quick sneak peek at the screen of Minseok’s phone and there’s video footage of ManU’s game playing. Lu Han hasn’t seen it before, so it’s probably only a couple of days old. Ignoring the screen for a moment, the ghost takes a look at Minseok’s face. The elder is smiling at him. Lu Han doesn’t actually see his mouth because the mask is still in the way (seriously, does Minseok think Lu Han will catch his cold? He’s dead for heaven’s sake, he can’t get sick anymore), but he can see it in the other’s eyes.

“I bet you missed seeing this more than me.” Minseok’s tone’s cheeky when he tilts his phone so Lu Han has a better view of the screen.

“Of course”, Lu Han replies out loud. Not, he finishes in his mind. Sure, he had missed seeing ManU’s games, but that doesn’t even come close to how much he had missed Minseok. He doesn’t say it to the other though, somehow feeling too shy. Maybe it’s a ghost thing, because Lu Han can’t really remember the last time he was feeling shy (then again, there are a lot of things he doesn’t remember anymore). He’s a manly ghost, not some high school girl who is too embarrassed to say their true feelings out loud. Still, he keeps quiet as they sit side by side on the floor, the only sound coming from the phone. It’s oddly peaceful, and Lu Han likes it. In fact, he’s forgotten all about being dead and wanting to debut. Now he just wants this. Sitting together with Minseok, watching football on the tiny screen, possibly for eternity.

There’s a strange feeling forming inside of him that makes the ghost somewhat restless.

Not seeing Minseok makes Lu Han mad, but being with him like this makes him even madder.

Just for a different reason he can’t quite explain.