(A/N: This chapter was starting to approach 10k words, so I split it up. Part 2 should come shortly. I didn't mark this story as kid-fic because it's not the main focus of the story, but I hope this is alright. :3)

2014

Donghae wakes up to a silent room, feeling like he hasn’t slept. He doesn’t remember getting into bed and he lies still for a moment, trying to remember what day it is. Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, he crumples the bedsheets in his hands as his eyes roam to land on the small suitcase on the floor. Oh, now he remembers.

According to his phone it’s a little before eight. That puts him at around probably five hours of sleep, and he silently thanks Hyukjae for letting him lie in for that long. He remembers now, hazy with sleep and the dimness that comes with memories of late night activities – he couldn’t sleep and had packed both their suitcases instead, finally rolling into bed to watch Hyukjae’s shoulders rise and fall, slow and even. He must have drifted off.

Donghae realizes then that he’s freaking starving.

He stops just before entering the kitchen. At the table, Ara seems to be telling a story to Hyukjae that Donghae has no hope of following. She’s been talking a lot lately, happily stringing sentences together in a way that must only make sense to a three-year old. Or to Hyukjae, who almost always knows exactly what she’s talking about and claims it’s because he’s been translating Donghae’s ramblings for so long.

Hyukjae is sitting across from her with his back to Donghae, alternating between humming thoughtfully at key points in her story and casually handing her pieces of steamed egg to eat in between sentences. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are still puffy with sleep; eventually Donghae realizes that she’s recounting her dream to Hyukjae in extreme detail.

“But I couldn’t get on the train, because… Choco was barking.”

“Oh. I thought Choco was in the car?” Hyukjae reaches across the table to stick a spoon into the little bowl of rice that has gone untouched in front of Ara, and he tilts the handle toward her.

“No, no, no, no,” Ara says, distracted for a moment as she grips the spoon handle with her small fingers. “Not the car. The bed! The train was the bed.”

“Right, I see,” Hyukjae says, looking up as Donghae steps into the kitchen, skirting around the table to stand behind Ara’s chair. He runs a hand through her tangled hair and she tilts her head back to look up at him, the spoon now sticking out of , and Donghae smiles at her before he meets Hyukjae’s eyes and mouths a good morning. Hyukjae smiles and continues. “And then you woke up?”

“Mm, yes.” Ara concentrates on picking up another spoonful of rice.

“I saw you packed the suitcases,” Hyukjae says, leaning back now that Ara is focused on breakfast.

Donghae digs the last of the rice out of the cooker. “Yeah, so that’s out of the way.” He sits down at the table, raising his eyebrows at Hyukjae and tilting his head in Ara’s direction. Hyukjae shakes his head mutely. So, packing finished, but they still haven’t told her that they’re going to be away all weekend. Donghae winces inwardly; they need to stop doing that. But he hates to see her when she’s upset, and it’s harder to ignore her energy when her sadness is directed right at him.

“Eat,” Hyukjae says, standing from the table. “I’m going to shower first and then get Ara dressed, we have like, an hour.”

Ara’s sleepy eyes follow him when he leaves and Donghae can see the little gears turning in her head. He tugs gently at the short ends of her hair to distract her. “Woah, messy! Did a bird fly in and sleep in your hair?”

“What!” she shouts, eyes wide with concern until she sees Donghae laughing. She giggles, confused, and then the confusion melts away and she says, “Birds, seriously,” with a little shake of her head. It’s exactly the fond, weary way that Hyukjae sounds when Donghae has said something ridiculous, and Donghae grins to himself as the two of them finish their breakfast. The last of the dull heaviness that had kept him awake last night eases itself off his shoulders to the sound of gently clanging spoons and the swish of Ara’s dangling feet.

-

Donghae steps into the hallway with hair still damp from his shower just in time to catch Ara as she runs toward him, Choco at her feet. A leash is still dangling from the little dog’s collar.

“Hey, don’t run,” he chides, crouching down to her level. He pushes loose strands of hair back behind her ear where they’ve fallen out of her barrette. “Where’s your Hyukkie?” She only giggles as Choco nudges between them, eager to at Donghae’s face. Probably just happy to have an empty bladder, but Donghae fluffs up the fur on her head with affection.

Hyukjae rounds the corner, still wearing his shoes. “You ready?”

Donghae nods, lifting Ara and settling her on his hip. “Hey, guess what?” he asks her. “You’re going to play with Byunghun this weekend!”

Her face lights up and she chirps, “Byun!” Donghae feels the moment that her delight turns to suspicion; sees it in a subtle change in the color of her energy more than he sees it on her expression. It must show in that way, though, because Hyukjae comes over and rubs a hand down her back. She twists to look at him.

“Hyukkie, will you play with Byun too?”

“Not this time. It will be just you and Byunghun-oppa and Choco, okay?”

Donghae in a breath and has to hand her over to Hyukjae when what he’s saying starts to sink in, the timbre of Ara’s energy taking a nosedive. She goes easily, but says “Appa?” in a thin voice.

He shakes his head. “I won’t be here either. Only until tomorrow, and then we’ll be home.”

The doorbell rings just then, thankfully, and Donghae goes to let Byunghun inside. He’s been watching Ara for over a year now, and although Hyukjae’s parents would be more than happy to take her, they know that the shop suffers every time they do. And anyway, it’s only for the night.

“Hi, hyung,” Byunghun chirps when he opens the door, peering around Donghae to smile and dip his head at Hyukjae as well. His school bag is slung over his shoulder, which Donghae suspects to be stuffed more with children’s books than his course textbooks. “Hi, Ara!,” he adds. “How’s my favorite girl!”

Ara leans out of Hyukjae’s hold, eyes still shiny with tears but reaching out towards Byunghun anyway. And that’s another reason he’s perfect to watch her – she has the most adorable toddler crush on her babysitter. “Byun!”

Hyukjae settles her on the floor and straightens the hem of her shirt. “Be polite, Ara.”

She puts her hands behind her back and bows, hair swishing forward as she does so. “Hello, Byung’n-oppa!”

Byunghun humors them, mimicking her actions before she barrels forward to hug him around his legs. He laughs. “So, you’ll be back tomorrow afternoon?”

Donghae brushes past the three of them, ducking into the bedroom to run a comb through his hair and grab the suitcases. He listens with half an ear to Hyukjae telling Byunghun their hotel details and schedule, but most of his concentration is on shutting out the energy signals coming from the hallway. It’s usually not a problem  - he hadn’t even registered Byunghun’s aura, and Hyukjae’s was easy to tune out. It mostly blends into his own, matching Donghae’s guilt at leaving Ara behind. Ara’s is harder – much harder, because he spends a lot of time attuned to her, but hasn’t learned how to block it out just yet. It’s as if she’s operating on a different wavelength, and Donghae has a hard time of staying objective about it.

Hyukjae is kissing her goodbye when Donghae carries their bags into the hallway. is twisted into a frown, but at least she isn’t crying. It makes it easier for Donghae to kiss her on the top of her head. “Have fun, we love you,” he says with a smile. She only lays her head on Byunghun’s shoulder and lets her arms hang, looking at him sadly.

“I’ll call you when we’re on our way back,” Hyukjae tells Byunghun, who attemps to get a sullen Ara to wave goodbye as they leave.

Donghae keeps expecting it to get easier every time they leave, but it never does. He and Hyukjae had stopped investigating completely when the adoption went through, but after the first year they knew they had to start taking cases again. Siwon had called, asked them to check out a potential infestation, and they had gone.

Not after a lot of convincing on Donghae’s part, however. Nowadays, Hyukjae likes it better when their cases are false, when they involve settling the fears in the minds of frightened people or teaching others awareness and how to protect themselves. This will be the third seminar they’ve given in as many months, with potentially the largest audience they’ve ever gotten outside of Seoul. He just wishes they didn’t have to travel so far.

“You okay?” Hyukjae asks, paused in front of the driver’s side door.

Donghae snaps out of it, tossing their bags into the backseat. He smiles easily. “Yeah. Just, you know.”

Hyukjae nods and opens his door. Donghae slides into the passenger seat and pulls out his phone. “Have you heard from Kyuhyun?”

“Yep, he’s on his way. And so are we.” The engine rumbles to life.

It won’t be so bad, getting out of the city for a bit, Donghae muses. He listens to Hyukjae hum along with the radio and looks forward to the quiet countryside.

-

The sound of clattering pans and voices thread down the hallway. Leeteuk’s family making dinner, loud as always, maybe even louder – like a light on in the hallway, a reminder of safety. He should be in there with them, laughing and pretending everything is fine. Leeteuk trails his fingers along the wall absently. The common room is empty now, all of them deciding they’d rather sleep in beds again, even the little ones nodding along and carrying their blankets to their new rooms. The spare wing seemed like a better idea than their normal rooms.

“It’s safe in this wing,” Kangin had said, but it didn’t really settle his nerves. He doesn’t like the reminder that anywhere else could be dangerous. This was Leeteuk’s idea. This was their dream.

It’s going to be fine.

“Food’s ready!” chirps a small voice, and Leeteuk turns to see Ryeowook smiling at him from the other end of the hall. Kangin pokes his head out of the kitchen, expression more concerned than the five-year old’s.

“Come on, Teuk. Let’s eat.”

Leeteuk has dinner with his family, bright and loud, and thinks maybe he’s not lying to himself. Maybe everything will be fine, after all.

-

A sound wakes him. Leeteuk pushes himself upright, listening to the sheets rustling on the bed as he moves, breathing in the quiet darkness of the room. He’s drowsy, head filled with sleep sand, and he yawns to keep himself awake. He swings his legs off the side of the bed and stretches a little, wincing as he rubs a hand across his chest. Fingers dip under the collar of his shirt, skimming gently over a bruise. He doesn’t remember how it happened, but it’s been blooming there since this morning, long like a shadow at dusk. The sound comes again. It’s a child’s voice.

Leeteuk sighs, fumbling for his phone and squinting at it. It’s just about 1:30. He gets to his feet, sliding the door open quietly so he doesn’t wake Kangin. He can’t blame the kids for not being able to fall asleep, but he can’t help the rush of annoyance at the noise they’re making. Shouldn’t they know better? There’s a time to be rowdy. The early hours of the night is not that time.

A voice floats down the hall again, “Eureum!” and Leeteuk doesn’t bother to keep his steps light as he goes down the hallway. “Hey, who’s awake? Don’t you know how loud you’re being?” he says irritably, following the sound of their game into the common room. It’s empty, and his annoyance rises; are they really going to play this game with him? Are they going to run and hide? He tries the front hallway, wanders into the kitchen, still hears nothing. Finally it comes again, louder, "Eureum!” and Leeteuk whips his head to follow the voice. Back in the common room again.

It’s still empty. “Kids?” he asks. Nothing. Leeteuk stands in front of the fireplace, trying to sort through his head. At this point he’s willing to admit that he could be hearing things, as the natural sounds of the house haven’t become background noise to him yet. They haven’t lived here quite long enough, and the time they have been living here has mostly been spent with heightened awareness. A living house. Leeteuk rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. A breathing house is not meant to be so literal.

He hears the sound of a laugh and freezes, listening hard. He strains, stays very still, wondering if he imagined that, too.

“Ddaeng!”

Leeteuk whirls. The voice had been right there, right in his ear, louder than life and his heart pounds in shock; nobody is there, nobody is here in the room, but the voice -

And then, unmistakable, shouting from the guest wing. Leeteuk is slow to react, shock rooting him to the spot where a frost-like cold continues to spread into his bones. The shout is panicked, frantic; Sungmin’s voice. Leeteuk breaks into a run.

-

Kangin is confused to find himself awake. He rolls over to find the other side of the bed empty, palming at the space where Leeteuk should be, and as he moves, notices Yesung standing by the door.

“Hey bud,” Kangin says roughly, voice thick with sleep. He clears his throat. “You okay? Something scare you?”

Yesung doesn’t answer. “C’mon,” Kangin tries, motioning towards the bed, but Yesung still doesn’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at them, blinking them open to find that Yesung is still hovering by the door, still and quiet. He’s being limned in the light in the hallway. But – no, the bedroom door is closed.

His eyes adjust, skin prickling. The child is not Yesung. Slighter, smaller, but too big to be Ryeowook.

He must be dreaming. Slowly, Kangin sinks his eyes shut and rolls over onto his back, concentrating on his breaths. He finds that he doesn’t want to open his eyes and they’re squeezed too tight, but Kangin refuses to think he’s afraid. He’s not. He’s just seeing things, half-awake, off kilter because of Leeteuk’s absence, and he almost convinces himself of it. Almost drops back off to sleep. But then, from out in the hallway, shouting.

Kangin shoots bolt upright in bed. He forgets about the figure, leaping out of the bed and into the hallway just in time to see Leeteuk running in from the other end, flipping the lights on. The door to the room Sungmin and Kibum are sharing slides open in a rough movement and Kibum stumbles out, eyes like saucers.

“What’s wrong,” Kangin demands, catching him around the shoulders. He’s shaking.

“I saw it,” he says in an awed, hushed voice. Leeteuk pushes past them and Kangin glaces up into the room, sees Sungmin turn to face Leeteuk, pale and tripping over his own feet. “It was there. Just like Shindong said. I saw it.”

“What did you see?”

Sungmin answers, voice shaky but confident. “There was someone in the room. Kibum had a bad dream, I turned the lights on and.” He swallows. “It was awful. He didn’t look human. I can’t –“ He cuts himself off with a shake of the head.

Kangin edges into the room and does a quick visual sweep: empty, save for the bunk beds and the bare dresser piled with blankets.

“You get it now?”

Kangin turns around to see Shindong in the hall. His voice isn’t mean, just loud, confident with validation. Kibum hugs him.

“It was in the room with you again,” Leeteuk says, voice hard. “Did it say anything this time?”

“No.” Sungmin was gaining control of himself with every passing second, shoulders squared. “It was angry, though, I think. It was hard to tell. It was like – like a fake. Like it was trying to be human and doing a real bad job of it.”

“Want me to tell them?” Kibum is saying. “Shindong, you have to say it. I can say it if you don’t want to.”

Leeteuk goes over to rub his hand on Shindong’s back encouragingly. “What do you need to tell us? If it’s important, we need to know.”

Shindong shakes his head, but still speaks up in a voice much smaller than before. “That night, when it was in my room, it said, ‘She belongs to me. And so will your –‘” He looks at Kibum, seemingly for affirmation, because Kibum gives him a slight nod and he continues. “’And so will your abomination of a family.’”

There’s nothing to be said for a long moment. They stand quiet in the hall, staring at Shindong, and later Kangin will find time to be angry. But for now, Yesung  pushes his way into the room and tugs on Leeteuk’s sleeve.

He says, once he has Leeteuk’s attention, “Ryeowookie is not in our room.”

With a jolt, Kangin realizes that he hasn’t seen Ryeowook at all. He’s been too shocked to even think to check on him. Guilt curdles his stomach for a second, but Leeteuk stalks out of the room and there’s no choice but to follow him.

“Spread out,” he orders, “let’s find him.”

“He was probably scared and hid,” Kangin suggests, but Leeteuk’s eyes are hard and then he’s not so sure. They all fan out, checking the guest rooms and all the places they like to play games. The search barely lasts a few minutes before Shindong shouts, “He’s here! I found him!” from the main wing.

By the time Kangin reaches Ryeowook’s real bedroom in the main wing, Leeteuk is already there, crouched in front of the bed with a startled Ryeowook in his arms.

“He was asleep,” says Sungmin from behind them, who had evidently been searching the rooms on the other side of the hall when Shindong found Ryeowook in the other room. “He slept through the whole thing,” Sungmin laughs, breathless.

Leeteuk lifts Ryeowook into his arms when he stands. Five years old is much too big to carry and Ryeowook looks so big, playing with Kangin’s memory – hadn’t he just been a baby? Was that so long ago?

“We can’t let this go on,” Leeteuk says to Kangin, voice quiet. He looks like himself again, which eases some of the tension in Kangin’s chest. “We have to do something.”

Sungmin comes over, setting a hand on Leeteuk’s arm. “I have an idea.”

-

Coming in part 2: 80% info-dump, 100% Eunhae. I hope y'all like paranormal investigation.