pairing: joonmyun-centric.
word count: 5000.
rating: PG-13.
genre: horror, attempted(?) humor, slight(???) angst.
warning(s): implied character death, slight gore.
summary: joonmyun sees dead people.
 

The door Joonmyun stands in front of is exactly that – just a door. And yet, as he raises a tentative hand to ring the bell, he can't help the tremble coursing through him. Perhaps it's because this is the fourth so-called specialist he has come to see about his 'problem' and the three he met before this have been less than helpful and frankly traumatizing. Perhaps it's because the frosted name plate hanging below the apartment number serves as a reminder of why Joonmyun is here. Do Kyungsoo, Paranormal Investigator.

Several locks and bolts are undone, and then the door cracks open to reveal a man with dark hair and even darker eyes. They drag all the way down Joonmyun's body, then back up again to settle heavily on his face. The man, who Joonmyun assumes must be Kyungsoo, doesn't say anything, but looks like he's expecting Joonmyun to, so Joonmyun clears his parched throat. “Yes, hello. I'm Kim Joonmyun.” Kyungsoo shows no sign of recognition. His stoic expression makes Joonmyun falter. “W-we spoke on the phone earlier?”

“I remember,” Kyungsoo mutters “Come in.”

Kyungsoo's tiny office space smells musty, like dust and herbs. It's filled by rows and rows of shelves, stacked floor to ceiling with books and binders and, in the furthest corner, hidden away, items Joonmyun can't even chance a guess as to what are, though they look like something out of Harry Potter. Joonmyun takes it all in as he follows Kyungsoo through the narrow passage between lines of bookcases to the back of the room where he can discern a desk and a few chairs through an open doorway.

He's walking a few feet behind Kyungsoo, but stops dead in his tracks as the air around him suddenly grows cold and clammy in a way he has only experienced once before. Grey mist materializes, crawling along the floorboards and rising upwards into a billowing cloud, and dread slithers down Joonmyun's back like icy cold fingers skimming his spine. From the mist emerges an apparition, a semi-transparent being hovering inches above the ground. Its eyes are gaping black abysses. Its mouth a crooked snarl with pointed teeth. “LEAVE!” it bellows, and as thick blood starts dripping down the walls, Joonmyun so desperately wants to turn and make a run for the door, except his legs seem to refuse to obey him. Instead he stays helplessly rooted to the spot and can only watch as the spectre, the ghost, creeps closer and closer and...

“Cut it out, you damn pestilence!” Kyungsoo bursts through the mist, waving his arms wildly to make it evaporate. “Shoo! Stop trying to scare my clients away!”

As if on fast forward, the blood quickly trails back up to the ceiling and disappears, leaving no trace behind to prove that it was there in the first place. The ghost drops until its feet touch the floor. He's opaque, now, and his features are no longer a terrifying image out of Joonmyun's worst nightmares. If Joonmyun didn't know any better, he could easily mistake this ghost for a regular college student with his young face, fluffy hair and casual clothes, but because he does know better, he's able to notice the otherworldly glow that surrounds him like a halo. “Aw.” The ghost actually pouts. “You never let me have any fun.” Kyungsoo looks Very Unimpressed. “Come on, just let me do a little bit of haunting. Pleeease?”

“Don't make me get the sage,” Kyungsoo threatens, and the ghost's face twists up in obvious distaste. “Now, make yourself scarce for a while. I have important business matters to attend to.” He gestures to Joonmyun for effect, and the ghost looks at Joonmyun as well grins, sauntering over. He looks so real.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Byun Baekhyun, part time nuisance, full time ghost.” He extends a dainty hand in greeting, and sheer instinctive reflex causes Joonmyun to reach out to take it, only to yank his own hand back with a startled gasp when it phases right through Baekhyun's. Baekhyun laughs. “Oh, he's cute, can we keep him?”

“Sage. Exorcism.”

“Fine, fine, consider me gone.” He salutes Joonmyun and fades out of existence.

Kyungsoo sighs, sounding all kinds of exasperated. “I'm sorry about him. Are you alright?” Joonmyun doesn't trust his voice not to shake right now, so he just nods. He will be alright, anyway. He just needs to get his heart rate down to a more normal pace. Maybe change his underwear, too. “Good. Come along, then.”

They make it to the desk in the backroom, thankfully incident free this time, and Joonmyun drops down onto the first chair he reaches, breathing heavily. Kyungsoo sits on the other chair, obviously much less shaken up than Joonmyun. In fact, he doesn't look shaken up at all, and Joonmyun feels a little miffed, until it occurs to him that Kyungsoo is probably used to this, what with the whole Paranormal Investigator thing and all. “So,” Joonmyun says, both to make conversation and to make it seem like he didn't just nearly piss himself. “What's, uh... what's the deal with you and, uh...” He does a few unhelpful hand gestures in the direction they came in from.

“Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo somehow manages to guess through Joonmyun's attempt at charades. “We've known each other for a long time. I've been trying to help him pass on for the better part of a decade, but I'm having a hard time with it. So now he just hangs around my office and bothers people. Especially me.” Something about the tone of Kyungsoo's voice makes Joonmyun think that he doesn't hate it as much as he pretends to. Kyungsoo pulls out a notebook and opens it to a blank page. “But that's not important right now. Tell me about your situation.”

Joonmyun has just gotten his heart under control, but now it picks up again as he recalls what he saw the other night in his apartment, the silhouette hiding in the shadows of his living room. At this point, after giving it a few days of careful thought, he isn't even sure what he saw. Did he really see anything? Or was it just his imagination? A result of too much caffeine and not enough sleep? Suddenly, he feels silly. Here he is, a man in his twenties, scared of the boogeyman. He lets out an awkward chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck. “I'm... ah, this is embarrassing. I-I'm sure it's nothing, just a result of me overworking myself. Probably. I shouldn't have come, I'm sorry to have bothered you.” He motions to get up so he can leave. It was stupid of him to come here.

Kyungsoo raises a hand to stop him. “Don't.” The tone of his voice alone is enough to make Joonmyun immediately sit back down. “Joonmyun-ssi. I have seen many clients in this office, some of them with noisy pipes or drafty apartments, some of them with overactive imaginations, some of them with legit encounters of the supernatural kind. Most of the time it's nothing at all. But if it is something, it's better for everyone involved if it's dealt with as soon as possible. Whatever your case is, I can assure you I'll do what I can do help.” Joonmyun swears he hears enthusiastic clapping and hooting coming from the empty space in the corner of the room, but as soon as Kyungsoo glares in that direction, the sound stops abruptly.

“I...” Joonmyun hesitates, considers how to explain this without sounding crazy. Then again, Kyungsoo is probably used to crazy, too. Joonmyun takes a long, steadying inhale. “There was... something. Someone? A person or, I guess, a ghost. He was...”

“He?” Kyungsoo cuts him off. “You're sure the spirit was male?” When Joonmyun nods, Kyungsoo writes something down in the notebook in front of him. “Go on. As detailed as possible, please.”

Joonmyun wets his lips, runs a hand through his hair, furrows his brows as he tries to remember it all. “I was in my bedroom doing some overtime work, then I went to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. I passed through the living room, and that's when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, so I looked, and...” He draws in a shaky breath. “H-he was standing by my couch. There was blood, a lot of it. All over him. So much blood. I screamed, and then he was gone, but... but I feel like I'm being watched all the time when I'm at home, and I hear noises sometimes.”

“I see,” Kyungsoo says, still writing in his notebook, and then he doesn't speak again.

The silence somehow makes Joonmyun feel even more tense, so he decides to talk enough for the both of them. “I-I don't usually freak out over things that go bump in the night, but I've been losing sleep. I really hope you can help me. I went to see... other people before you. One started speaking in tongues and threw holy water in my face. One had a very extensive and surprisingly convincing collection of scrapbooks to prove that every major world leader is secretly a lizard. The last one had like twelve cats and–”

“Yeah, that's swell, has the spirit hurt you in any way, though?” Kyungsoo asks, once again interrupting Joonmyun's stream of words. It seems like he regrets asking for details. “Or attempted to hurt you? Has it moved any of your things around?”

None of the above, Joonmyun thinks to himself, and so he shakes his head. It hasn't really done anything, per se, it's just... there. A presence. “It's scary.” He feels so childish, admitting it out loud like that, but Kyungsoo doesn't mock him for it in any way, doesn't seem to take Joonmyun any less seriously than any of his regular business partners would. “I'm scared.”

Kyungsoo nods, pensive. “The spirit is probably scared, too.” He must have noticed Joonmyun's incredulous stare because he elaborates: “A lot of the spirits I meet are benign beings with unfinished business in this realm that keeps them from crossing over to the afterlife. They don't mean to cause any trouble, they only need someone to help them do what they can't. From what you've told me, your spirit has been in your apartment for a few days, but it has made no move to harm you, so I would think it just wants your help. Have you tried talking to it?”

“You want me to... talk... to the ghost?”

“You seem concerned,” Kyungsoo notes, and, yup, he's certainly right about that. “I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. I'm ninety-eight percent sure the spirit you're dealing with is benevolent.”

“And the remaining two percent?”

For the first time since Joonmyun has met Kyungsoo, he sees a hint of amusement on his face as Kyungsoo smirks and shrugs. “I always allow myself a small margin of error. There's a chance the spirit is a poltergeist that just hasn't figured out what it's capable of yet. Or some sort of demon trying to trick you into a sense of false security before making its move.” Joonmyun gulps. Neither of those scenarios sound particularly pleasant. “The quickest way to find out is to just talk to it.”

Joonmyun wheezes. “Yeah, okay, I'll just go ahead and talk to the potentially super evil ghost. Great. Wonderful. All my problems are magically solved.”

“Glad to be of service,” Kyungsoo says with feigned cheer. “Let me know how it goes!”

Joonmyun's apartment is dark when he gets home later that night. He inwardly curses himself for not having the foresight to leave on some of the lights when he left. The bulb in the hallway ceiling lamp went out a while ago, and he has never gotten around to changing it because he is a Professional Procrastinator, so the nearest working light source is the lamp on the end table next to the TV. He debates the pros and cons of doing a sprint across the room to turn it on, but ultimately decides to simply walk. He's pretty sure he wouldn't be able to outrun a ghost, anyway.

For a while, Joonmyun just stands in the middle of the living room, glancing warily around the open space. He has more lights, now, and the shadows are mostly eliminated, but he stills feels the heavy, lingering tension of someone's gaze resting on him, even though he can't see anyone. The logical part of his brain is telling him that he's being stupid, that there's no one there, that it's just paranoia, and there's no such thing as ghosts. He knows what he saw, though. Now that he has met Baekhyun, he's even more certain of it. He knows he's not alone in this apartment.

So how does one initiate a conversation with a ghost? Are there different social constructs to abide by, or do you just follow the ones that apply to regular humans? Joonmyun never wants to offend or insult anyone, least of all a potentially super evil ghost. He takes a deep breath. “Uhm, hello?” he calls out. “Mister ghost?” There's no answer. He feels even more stupid now that he's talking to thin air, but he carries on. “Can you please show yourself? I would like to have a word with you.”

“If I show myself, will you promise not to scream again? I don't like being screamed at.”

The voice startles Joonmyun. It originates from a corner of the living room, somewhere between the bedroom door and the window, so he turns around and tries to look in that general direction as he answers: “I promise I'll try my best, at least.” It takes another few moments of loaded silence before anything happens. Then, the air ripples and a figure slowly comes into view. He doesn't look quite as scary when all the lights are on. It's just a boy, really, a teenager, wearing a high school uniform with a logo that Joonmyun knows he has seen on a lot of the kids that live in his neighborhood. Joonmyun swallows thickly and plasters on his most polite smile. “Hey there.”

“Hello,” the kid says as he bows deeply. He's even wearing a backpack. He could easily blend in with any one of the high schoolers in the area, Joonmyun thinks, if it wasn't for the sallow, greyish tint to his skin, and the stomach-churning gash that stretches across the width his throat, spreading stains of dried up blood down his white shirt and navy blue blazer. “My name is Kim Jongin.”

Kim Jongin. The name feels familiar. Joonmyun searches his brain to figure out where he has heard it before, and his eyes widen as he realizes. “You're the missing kid!” Joonmyun has seen his (less blood-spattered) face on missing person posters hanging on streetlights and store fronts for weeks, has heard his name in passing from neighborhood ladies discussing how terrible it is that Mrs. Kim's son had just vanished like that. And now, here Jongin is, right in Joonmyun's own living room. Momentarily, Joonmyun feels elated that Jongin is alive and well, but then the reality strikes him that Jongin is, in fact, neither of those things. Because he's dead. “Oh. You're dead.”

Jongin pulls a face that makes Joonmyun instantly regret his careless words. “Yeah, I... I'm–” Jongin's sentence is cut off by a sudden gurgle, and Joonmyun can't help but wince as more blood gushes from Jongin's open wound and drips down his front and onto the ground. Jongin blanches. “Oh my God, s-sorry, I'm sorry.” He's so mortified he actually starts flickering in and out of existence as he palms at the new wet stains on his clothes in a futile attempt at wiping them off, until he notices with a distressed expression that he has made a mess on the floor as well.

Joonmyun is struck with the inexplicable desire to comfort him. “Hey hey, it's alright, you're alright, no harm done.” If he could, he would reach out to pat Jongin's shoulder, but there's the whole ghost thing, and the last time he tried to touch one didn't exactly go so well, so all he has are his words and his awkward hand gestures. Gradually, with Joonmyun's reassurance, Jongin manages to calm down, and the flickering stops, though the pink flush of embarrassment in his cheeks still remains. Joonmyun isn't quite sure about the mechanics of ghosts, but he finds it peculiar that Jongin seems to have maintained his ability to blush, especially considering that what little blood remains in his body seems to be literally pouring out of him as they speak. Joonmyun also didn't know that ghosts could be cute, but Jongin certainly is. In a younger brother kind of way.

“Sorry I freaked out like that,” Jongin mumbles, but Joonmyun assures him once again that everything is completely fine and that he doesn't have to worry about it. He does rush to the kitchen to fetch a bucket of soap and water and a rag to clean up the blood before it stains the wooden floorboards too much, though. Good luck explaining that to the landlord.

After disposing of the water, pink with diluted blood, Joonmyun returns to the living room, where Jongin still stands awkwardly in the corner, wringing his hands. “Would you like to sit?” Joonmyun offers, then frowns. “Wait, can you sit? I don't mean to be ignorant, but I genuinely don't know.”

Jongin looks a little wide-eyed. “I don't know, either. I've never tried.” The act of him walking over is weird to Joonmyun, too, just like it had been when Baekhyun had done it earlier. He would expect ghosts to just float about freely and not have to rely on their legs to move around. Maybe it's a hard-to-shake habit that has remained from when they were human. Maybe floating isn't as easy and effortless as most supernatural movies make it out to be. Whatever the case, Joonmyun decides it would probably be better if he just stopped making assumptions altogether.

As it turns out, Jongin is actually capable of sitting. He doesn't sink through the furniture, at least, which is what Joonmyun would consider a victory. He joins Jongin on the couch, and once again he's stricken by how absolutely unreal it is to be seated next to a ghost. This whole day has been unreal in general. He thinks back to the conversation he had with Kyungsoo, the advice Kyungsoo gave him about how to handle the situation with the spirit in his apartment. “So,” Joonmyun begins. “Do you have... any unfinished business? Or something?” Jongin looks confused by Joonmyun's question, so he rephrases it: “Is there anything you need me to do for you or help you with? Anything that keeps you from crossing over? I mean, you must have come to me for a reason.”

With the extended explanation, Jongin seems to understand what Joonmyun means, and still he wavers and looks down at his own fingers as he plays shyly with them. “Uhm, I don't know.”

Joonmyun flashes his most reassuring smile. “Hey. It's okay. You can tell me.”

So, after another brief bout of hesitation, Jongin does. He talks about how he has seen his mother going around the city hanging up posters with Jongin's face on it, first with the help of friends and family and kind neighbors, later all by herself. Jongin has seen how increasingly broken she looks as the days have gone by, and yet, even as Jongin's own sisters gave up hope of finding him alive, his mother never did. “I think that's what's keeping me here,” he finally says. “Her blind faith. She refuses to let go of the idea that I could still be alive somewhere out there. That's why I can't move on.” He takes a deep breath. “I think I need her to find me. Or... find my body, I guess.”

It makes a lot of sense. Even though Jongin's mother isn't physically holding on to Jongin, her persistent unwillingness to let go of him is enough to keep his soul bound here. “What do you want me to do?” Joonmyun is almost scared to hear the answer, but he knows it's necessary.

“Right now, they're looking for me in the wrong place,” Jongin says, and then he looks a bit embarrassed again. “I was supposed to go right to my hagwon after my last class that day, but I skipped and went to a PC bang instead. They don't know that. No one other than me knows that. They think I disappeared somewhere on the way between school and hagwon, but I didn't. This entire time, they've been searching the wrong part of the city.” That's why you should always tell someone where you're going, Joonmyun thinks to himself, but now is not the time to lecture. Not when Jongin looks so grim. “I would go to my mom myself and tell her what I have just told you, but... I don't think I could bear being the one to take the hope away from her. It would break me.”

Joonmyun doesn't know if he would be able to do it, either, look a woman in the eye as you tell her that you're very sorry and that her son is dead. He definitely doesn't envy those with jobs that require them to do that on a near-daily basis. “Why me, then?” he asks. “Why did you come to me of all people?” It could have been anyone. It could have been friend or family. It could have been the police. Why did it have to be Joonmyun, who doesn't even know Jongin nor his mother?

“I saw you helping our next door neighbor, Mrs. Yoo, with her groceries,” Jongin mutters, and Joonmyun remembers that. A few days ago, when he had seen an elderly lady lugging two big shopping bags after her down the street, and he had helped her carry them up to her apartment on the third floor. “You have an approachable face and a friendly smile. You seemed nice. I don't know. Sorry if I'm being troublesome, I... I guess I was just hoping you could help me, too.” Jongin looks so small and young in his high school uniform with soft bangs falling into his eyes as tears slowly well up in them. He looks so lost. But, then again, that is exactly what he is: a lost soul, wandering around for weeks, trying to find his way to the other side of whatever this existence is.

Smiling, because that seems to calm Jongin down, Joonmyun leans in closer. He doesn't place a comforting hand on Jongin's knee like he wants to, just rests it near him and hopes that Jongin can understand the gesture. “Hey,” he says softly. “Don't worry. I'll do whatever I can to help you.”

“Thank you,” Jongin sniffles, wet voice quivering. “Thank you so much.” And Joonmyun doesn't think he has ever seen anything quite as sad as a ghost crying their eyes out.

Kim Jongin was murdered. His throat was slit with a switchblade and his body was dumped into the Han River. Joonmyun knows this first and foremost because Jongin told him about it, but also because he's there to watch the police pull Jongin's decaying corpse out of the water after they had received a tip from an anonymous person calling from an untraceable number (so Kyungsoo had been at least somewhat helpful, in the end).

The culprits – there were three of them, Jongin had recalled when he told his story to Joonmyun, but the police doesn't know that yet – are members of a known gang, and Jongin had accidentally witnessed them doing something he wasn't supposed to see, so they had decided that they needed to dispose of him. Jongin didn't want to let Joonmyun in on exactly what he had seen because he didn't want Joonmyun to get in trouble for knowing too much, too. As much as Joonmyun's curiosity leaves him frustrated, he's also touched by Jongin's concern for him.

So, Joonmyun is there when they pull the body out of the water, which means he also has to witness the sight of Jongin's mother falling to the ground as she sobs and wails over the corpse of her deceased son while her daughters cling to her. The heartbreaking scene makes Joonmyun want to burst into tears as well, but he fights back the urge to do so. Crying over a kid he never even met while he was alive would probably seem very suspicious to anyone watching.

Instead, he keeps his eyes fastened on the ghost of Jongin. He's crouched down next to his mom, whispering something to her Joonmyun can't hear from this far away – not that he thinks Jongin's mother can actually hear it, either. What Joonmyun can make out, however, is the words Jongin mouths when his gaze lifts to find Joonmyun in the crowd. Thank you.

Joonmyun stays just long enough to watch Jongin explode into a cloud of brightly sparkling dust, carried up towards the sky by a gentle breeze. Then he turns around and leaves.

Tired. That's what Joonmyun is. Exhausted all the way down to the bone. He sighs, heavily and loudly, as he lets himself fall into his bed, sliding his eyelids over dry eyes. If he's honest, it's still relatively early to call it a night for him. There's still a lot of stuff he needs to research and write for his job, and in any other instance, he would probably be working long into the night, but right now, it'll have to wait because he's just so damn tired. Dealing with spirits is draining.

“Uhm, excuse me?” comes a strange voice out of nowhere, and Joonmyun sits abruptly upright to cast a panicked glance around his bedroom. His heart is thumping in his chest, pitter-pattering away. He very much regrets not having a lamp near his bed. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

Joonmyun gulps. “It's alright,” he says, even though his voice still shakes as he does so. He clutches his blanket to his chest, like it's the only thing that can keep him safe. It's so dark. He can't see anything. “If it's possible, maybe you could turn on some light?” He startles once more when he sees something moving across the room, an outline, a shadow, and then he has to squint against the brightness of the ceiling lamp. Once his eyes have gotten used to it, he warily takes in the figure standing by his bedroom door with one hand on the light switch.

The man looks young, older than Jongin had been, but definitely still young. Although, Joonmyun isn't even sure how he can tell when the man's face is covered in blood and littered with what appears to be shards of glass sticking out from his torn up flesh at odd angles. One of his arms, the right one, is twisted in an unnatural way, too, and Joonmyun swears he sees something that looks like bare bone poking out through the side of the man's shirt. He quickly diverts his eyes. He feels nauseous. “Huh,” the man says, sounding quite impressed with himself and way too casual. “Didn't know I could do that.”

“Not to be rude or anything, but what do you want?”

The ghost purses his lips. “Straight to the point. I can respect that.” He bows in greeting, though it's nowhere near as formal as Joonmyun is used to. “My name is Kim Jongdae. I heard you can help me.” Who on Earth would have given him that idea, Joonmyun thinks to himself, and Jongdae, as if he's capable of reading minds, continues: “Jongin told me that you were helping him before he crossed over. We knew each other.” Oh. That kind of makes sense.

Exhaling in exasperation, Joonmyun rubs his temples. There's a part of him that wants to say no because he needs to sleep off this fatigue, and he needs to go to work in the morning, and he can't just go around spending what limited amount of free time he has running errands for ghosts. But Jongdae is another lost soul, stranded on the wrong side of the afterlife, and Joonmyun is a bleeding heart with far too much empathy. He sighs again. “Okay. I'll help you.”

“Thank you.” Jongdae smiles widely, and Joonmyun has to admit to himself that his smile is quite attractive, his closed mouth curled up at the corners. Uninvited, Jongdae floats over – floats, Joonmyun notices, so not all ghosts walk, after all – to perch himself on the edge of Joonmyun's bed. “I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am to hear that. We've all been waiting for someone, who would be willing to help.”

“We?” Joonmyun repeats, and Jongdae frowns.

“Well, yeah. Jongin and I aren't exactly the only spirits wanting to move on. There are a lot of us. I've been stuck here for nearly two years now, but I know of others, who have been wandering for decades or even longer, searching for a solution to their unfinished business. And now you're finally here to help us.” Jongdae places his hand on top of Joonmyun's, and it doesn't feel corporeal, but Joonmyun can still feel the weight of it like a cold press against his skin. He resists the urge to shudder. Jongdae smiles, this time with a flash of teeth that are broken and blood-stained. “Now you're here. You can expect a lot more supernatural visits in the future.”

Joonmyun lets out a meek, slightly hysteric laughter. “Great,” he squeaks. “Wonderful.” He supposes he will just have to accept that this is his life now.

~*~

A/N: I honestly do not know what this thing is. I really don't. last week, my brain was like "write a spoopy story in time for halloween" and I was like "why" and my brain was like "you gotta". and thus my brain took control over my body and forced me to crank this piece of crap out in like three days. I have nothing else to say for myself. happy halloween, my lads and ladettes. enjoy this mess of a story. [insert jazz hands here]