Contrary to popular belief, being a ghost is really, really boring.

Park Kyung was an exceptionally active person during his lifetime. Not necessarily athletically or really physically in any way. He had actually considered himself pretty lazy, if he was being honest.

It was the little things, though.

His habits, his routine, his personal eccentricities, all practically erased by his death. 

For example, every morning, while alive, Kyung would have to drink a cup of coffee with exactly seven spoonfulls of sugar and two of creamer, no more, no less. Without it he’d be a zombie until well past noon, and a general annoyance to everyone he met along the way.

Now the number of spoons hardly mattered, as he couldn’t even pick up a damn spoon to begin with.

Turns out ghosts can only manipulate objects in their environment that are, or had been at one time, alive.

That meant no coffee, no reading books, no changing the clothes he’d been killed in, nothing. If it weren’t for his ability to phase through doors and walls, he’d have been trapped in his home until someone had stumbled in and left the door open for him.

And even that ability had taken a while to manifest.

Given this infuriating stipulation, Kyung was left with no means of entertainment. None at all. An eternity of boredom and loneliness?

Not for him.

So he made his own entertainment.

It all started when he figured out that he could interact with other ghosts. A very important discovery, this was. One that came about completely by accident.

Kyung had been wandering about in a park close to his old home, amusing himself by kicking at leaves fallen from the white-trunked trees that sheltered the expanse of walking trails winding around them. People walked past him every now and then, joggers and couples and groups of friends, merely shivering at the cold patch they passed through at the side of the trail.

The living could not physically interact with the dead, and Kyung couldn’t help the grimace that pulled at his lips whenever he felt the nauseating tugging sensation that accompanied the solid heat of a living person.

Seeing someone heading his way, head down and hands stuffed in his pockets morosely as his shoes barely left the ground with each step, Kyung ignored him.  The stranger headed straight for him, unaware of his presence as he stalked through the trees.

Kyung braced himself for the heat, the sickening pull of his organs, the disappointment that would undoubtedly cloud his vision.

What he got was a head on collision that knocked the stale breath from his frozen lungs and sent him careening backwards onto the ground.

The fall didn’t hurt, it didn’t have the option to hurt given his circumstances, but he yelped out anyways.

It was the shock. Kyung hadn’t touched another person in months, had give up on the idea of ever feeling again. Yet here he was, body thrumming with feeling and childish excitement.

The man who’d run into him looked similarly shocked, hands up and clutching his chest, prettily curved eyes wide as they stared at Kyung. They were both silent, unaware of the people walking by, of the setting sun or the birth of a strong wind that left the flora around them trembling anxiously.

Wordlessly the stranger stuck out a hand, pale fingers shaking in stark contrast to the steadiness of his gaze.

Kyung reached out in turn, fingers shaking in time with the other’s, a sense of urgent frenzy controlling him.

He had to know.

And then their hands met, cool skin on cool skin, and the sensation of tears inexplicably sprang up in Kyung’s eyes.

~~~

October 31st, 2014.

Taeil and Kyung’s favorite day of the year.

The two stood on the porch of an elderly man’s house, hand in hand, invisible to the children tottering by to collect their treats, chubby hands clutched in their parents’.

The elderly man who lived at Taeil and Kyung’s current haunting ground had gone inside after nine p.m., tired and achy in his old feeble joints.

He’d been handing out candy to the children who came by, gap-toothed smile wide as he complimented each and every child on their costume.

Taeil had been the one to choose the location after seeing the children turn away sad-faced, round cheeks quivering with disappointment at the lost chance to score some final pieces of candy before it got too dark.

Kyung loved the sappy side of Taeil, it was adorable and ironic and precious (not that he’d ever tell the other ghost this).

Taeil had figured out last Halloween that they could pick up chocolates, of all things. Taeil, ever the reasonable one, hypothesized it had something to do with the amount of natural cocoa still present in the candy.

Kyung just liked to think someone in charge had a sense of humor, but that was just him.

Together the crouched on the porch, smiling translucent smiles at every child brave enough to trundle up onto the dark front lawn, parentless.

Then they’d ever so slowly extract a chocolate from one of their pockets and, hand in hand, hold it out to the poor little one. They’d giggle at the amazed look on their small faces, trill in delight when they squealed and clapped like it was some great magic trick.

What can they say? Scary ghosts are overrated anyways.

Looking over at Taeil’s elated face, eyes alight with something that set butterflies free in his stomach, Kyung couldn’t help but sigh dreamily.

Like they ever had a chance at scary.