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The ghosts are curious. They haven’t been here long enough to witness anything that required this much effort and energy from Wonwoo—his preparation for going to the grocery store usually consisted of washing his face, brushing his teeth, and changing into fresh clothes; and not even Jihoon visiting got him up this early.
It was seven oh three, for God’s sake.
After a dizzying seventy seven days of isolating himself and keeping himself well away from human contact, so much that his pet ghosts are convinced he’s a social hermit (he most certainly is not, but try to convince them that), it makes sense that they’re all restless and confused by the change of pace. Dokyeom’s mentioned something about them feeding off of Wonwoo’s spiritual energy in passing—and truthfully, his quote on quote energy hasn’t been great lately, especially after his last film ran an embarrassingly short time in theatres after having put so much hard work into it—so it’s probably perplexing to them that they’re all moving faster now: it makes them look agitated, almost.
(Wonwoo even almost gets a heart attack when Mina floats by the microwave and it short circuits—Seulgi intervenes and calls for a timeout, and Mina splutters out half-decent explanations, red-faced and fumbling. Spoiler alert: she ends up relenting under the force of Seulgi’s glare.)
Wonwoo promptly disappears into the bathroom to shower after that, unwilling to witness any more of his electronics malfunctioning. He knows Seulgi is concerned, and Dokyeom’s curious—judging from how he’d looked at him with both eyebrows raised as he made his escape, but there really isn’t much for him to say. He’s meeting someone today—and sue him, he’s excited. It’s not even a date—no, nothing like that, so it doesn’t make sense why his heart is thrumming and why the ghosts are basically glowing with how bright they are.
(“His energy’s different today. Radiant,” Mina had whispered when she thought Wonwoo couldn’t hear. “Did we miss something?”)
He remembers the first time he sees them—Dokyeom, Mina, and Seulgi, all ethereally beautiful—and thinking that his extra hours were finally getting to him. They’d successfully pushed him into a mental breakdown so close to his movie’s first premiere—and, strangely, somehow ended up being his only pillars of support during his apparent fall from grace. He’s grateful, of course. Thankful that though from different time periods, they’ve managed an easy companionship around the house—though it had taken Wonwoo letting go of his good sense to do it.
(“We’re our own messed up family, in a way. Wonwoo’s the depressed dad, Seulgi’s the strict mom, I’m the problematic son, and Mina’s the baby of the family—the one with no issues.” Dokyeom had said once of their dynamics.
“I like women, Dokyeom.” Seulgi had told him.
“I know, and Wonwoo’s gay. Still makes you guys our parents, though. Maybe a platonic married couple.”)
“Wonwoo?” Seulgi’s voice is soft, afraid of scaring him off—motherly and stolid cold, all at once, from behind the door. “I may be overstepping my boundaries, but I need to speak to you. Will you let me in?”
This strikes him as odd, but he answers an affirmative anyway. The door swings open and closes. He feels a draft that wasn’t there before, which is characteristic for when they enter a room. He can’t quite see Seulgi, but he knows she’s there from behind his shower curtain—graceful and elegant, posture straight and rigid, wearing a flashy hanbok. It’s made with reds and blacks and golds and it fits her perfectly. Regal, but dangerous. Seulgi’s never been one to be underestimated.
“What’s this about, Seulgi? Are you staging an intervention?” Too late. He’s already getting dressed up, getting ready to meet new people. Wasn’t that the whole point?
“No.”
“No? What is it, then? Is it about the kids?” He winces at himself, calling Dokyeom and Mina the kids like—
“No. It’s not about them. It’s about you.”
“Me?” Wonwoo echoes.
Seulgi’s always been completely respectful of his space—which is more than he could say for Dokyeom and Mina. She’s from the time of dynasties and concubines and well-kept secrets—she’s only told her story once before: I was the oldest daughter of a noble, and I was going to be Queen, until they discovered my liaison with a court lady and had us both put to death. But that was the most they got out of her.
“You’re worrying us.” Leave it to him to display enough of his self-destructive tendencies that it scares his ghosts when he’s actually being a functional human being. “We’re not used to seeing you up at this hour, and your energy’s been driving us up the wall—we’re not quite used to it yet. Frankly, it’s a bit disconcerting. Has anything happened?”
The jets of water stream down his face, down his throat, down his shoulders. It grounds him, for a moment—he reminds himself that they only really know Wonwoo at his lowest point—not the ones from radio broadcasts and red carpets and award shows, with the jokes and the smiles and the overflowing charm. “No—I’m actually going out to meet someone today. Maybe I’m more excited than I know.”
“Is that so?” She sounds hopeful now, but far from placated. “Are your friends from those faraway places visiting? Where’d you say Minghao is now? Mingyu?”
“Minghao’s in Seoul for art school, and Mingyu’s somewhere in Europe—but no. That’s not it.”
Seulgi brightens—judging from the sudden surge of warmth replacing the cold that came with her presence. She’s never quite liked Mingyu or Minghao, mostly because they were rich, carefree and always too busy for Wonwoo.
“Jihoon, then? I’ve always liked him. Are you going out to dinner outside this time?”
“No, not him either. He doesn’t like going out to eat, anyways.” He doesn’t mention that Jihoon likely can’t afford it.
He hears the exact moment that Seulgi falters, which is rare for someone like her. Wonwoo shouldn’t be taking it as a victory, but he is. “I wasn’t—well, I was under the impression you didn’t know any other people.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I wasn’t saying it with malice,” Seulgi says. “In fact, I’d like to meet this friend of yours. Could you give me a name?”
“Seulgi.”
“What?”
“Stop being such a mom.”
“Excuse me for showing an interest in your life, then.” Seulgi scoffs and decides to take the hint, disappearing.
Let them stay curious. It wasn’t any of their business yet—and besides, what kind of surprise would it be if he told them from the get go? He figured they could handle a little blue balling—Seulgi, though stubborn, never pushed him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, and the kids were tolerable enough.
So he towels himself off, finds himself a pretty buttondown to wear, and returns to the kitchen to grab something to eat before he goes. All three of them are waiting for him, which is predictable, as they have not much else to do in their immortal lives—though Mina is still very noticeably in time out (Seulgi learned about it on TV one day and begun to take her mothering responsibilities seriously).
“I’m going out today.” Wonwoo says. “You all know that, but I’m telling you officially. I’m meeting someone today—Jihoon’s roommate.”
Dokyeom grins, the way he does—all flair and bite and intentional seduction underneath, cross legged on the dining room table like some kind of sex god. “It’s about time, baby. I’m happy for you.”
“I am, too,” Mina pitches in from her tiny corner.
“Now—who’s the cutie that wrangled ya out of bed?” Dokyeom pries. “Take it from me, though—ya better keep your weiner wrapped if you don’t want any diseases.”
Mina giggles, yelling out a “Dokyeom! It’s the first date!”. Seulgi is wide-eyed, but doesn’t say much else.
Dokyeom insisted on being with him everywhere. Wonwoo’s decidedly very fond of all of them—and that’s why he’s going out today in the first place. To grant them peace. There must be a reason why they’re haunting him—three different people from completely different planes of existence.
“Yeah, and I was wondering if any of you wanted to come with.”
They all freeze. They’ve all talked about it before—when Wonwoo was ready, he would bring one of them with him when he was out, because for some reason, they couldn’t really be anywhere outside Wonwoo’s residence without Wonwoo himself. Mina’s wide-eyed and stumbling over her words already, having ignored Seulgi, and yelling about wanting to see how the world looks now. Seulgi is smiling, and Wonwoo knows she doesn’t really care—she just wants Mina and Dokyeom to go, if it makes them happy.
“I want to go.”
Mina looks at Dokyeom, who is suddenly speaking very quietly. “Hm?”
“I really want to go.” This time, he looks at Mina with eyes that plead. “Come on, Mina. There’s always a next time.”
Mina pouts. “No! Fuck,” she protests, “Dokyeom.”
Mina is closer to the one closest to Wonwoo’s era. She had died only recently—a car accident, she says, in the early 2000s. She was from a middle-class family, and they were going to Busan to visit distant relatives. She remembers being excited because it wasn’t often they went on any trips.
“It’s all very anticlimactic,” she had told them once, “We were all instantly dead—lucky, I guess. We didn’t leave anyone behind.”
Dokyeom frowns, now. “Mina,” he wheedles, “Come on, please. I haven’t seen the world for a long time.”
“Well, I haven’t, either!”
“Yeah, well. I’m older than you!”
Seulgi smiles. “I’m afraid Dokyeom has my vote on this one.”
Mina whines, “That’s not fair!”
“You’ll get over it.” Dokyeom grins. He hops off the table top and pats Mina’s head. “Come on, please. Come on.”
Mina refuses to look up at him.
“Aw, don’t pout.”
“I am not,” she replies, but she’s holding back a smile this now, and seems more placid with the idea of Dokyeom taking her place. “You’ll tell me stories, right?”
“Of course, darling.” Dokyeom soothes. “Of course I will.”
“You better make it good.”
“When have I ever disappointed you?”
Mina scrunches her nose, the way she does, and replies, “One time too many.”
Dokyeom fakes being offended, and Wonwoo laughs, and Seulgi laughs, and it’s a good start to his day, for the most part. Wonwoo tells Dokyeom that he just has to pull his shoes on and they’ll leave, and he gets so excited the blender flies across the room and smashes against a wall. Dokyeom quickly apologizes, very vigorously and very sincerely, but Wonwoo still had to take a few minutes to himself in the bathroom so he could scream.
“So.” Dokyeom drawls. “Where are we going?”
“To a friend.”
“Don’t lie to me. We both know you don’t have that.”
Sadly enough, it’s true. Only Minghao who is in Seoul for his studies, an entity Dokyeom’s never really seen but he did feel, mostly because of his constant checking in on Wonwoo’s mental health; and Mingyu, who is somewhere in Europe, apparently. He messages him pictures of sunsets and oceans and sometimes leaves behind a voice recording of him singing to help Wonwoo sleep, but other than that, there’s not much of Mingyu in the house. Jihoon visits sometimes, bringing along instant ramen and six packs of Sprite—Seulgi tells them that Jihoon’s her favorite, because he’s a sweet boy for taking care of their Wonwonie like that. Minghao and Mingyu seem like busy people, but Jihoon with his warm smile and thrifted clothes and tortured artist persona—Seulgi eats it all up.
“Okay. I’m going to need you to keep a secret.”
Dokyeom lights up, “Oh, scandalous. Tell me more.”
So he does. Wonwoo’s been researching the whole peace and freedom thing with ghosts. Jihoon had heard of his dilemma, apparently, and though he believed that Wonwoo was going batshit crazy, he still recommended a certain Lee Jungchan, who works in the bookstore down the street and is his roommate.
“He sounds pretty.” Dokyeom muses. “Don’t ya think so? That’s such a pretty name.”
Dokyeom doesn’t say much else about the matter, but it’s clear the gears in his mind are turning relentlessly for an answer to a question he doesn’t seem to want to ask, so Wonwoo keeps his mouth shut—if there’s anything Seulgi taught him, it’s that space is important. You don’t push when people aren’t ready—you don’t prod at things that hurt, and you ignore it until they tell you it’s okay to ask.
“I hope he is. I haven’t seen a living person aside from Jihoon in actual months.”
“Speakin’ of Jihoon,” Dokyeom says, “Why’d he direct you to his roommate, anyway? Didn’t you say he was a huge pussy?”
“I don’t know. To be fair, he probably only heard the part where I wanted him to find me someone interested in the supernatural and shit, so maybe he automatically translated that to emo ass bitch, so.”
“It’s a wonder why he didn’t just point you to Minghao’s direction, instead.”
“Stop,” he warns, “Don’t make me laugh. People are going to think I’m crazy.”
Dokyeom cackles and Wonwoo pulls a mask on his face, so he wouldn’t scare anyone with the size of his grin when, to them, he was just some dude in the winter walking alone. Wonwoo didn’t have a clue why he started hearing ghosts and why the fuck they were so nice to him when they were supposed to scare the piss out of him, but he does know that if people overhear him talking to Dokyeom when there’s literally nobody there, they’re going to call the authorities on him and he won’t be able to return to his normal life. Albeit a normal life with three supernatural entities in his apartment, but—
“Maybe you are.” Dokyeom whispers, the patronizing kind. He’s hanging close to Wonwoo—“It’s because I’m literally using your life force to manifest,” he had explained earlier—and the way he’s grinning is downright creepy, but he ignores it. Wonwoo ignores a lot of things, like the sudden recline of his sanity.
(“Would you talk to a ghost for a thousand dollars?”
“Depends.” Jihoon had said, biting into a chicken leg. “Whose ghost is it?”
“Just some random ghost. He won’t hurt you, but he’ll probably talk your ear off.” Dokyeom snorts in the background, knowing Jihoon wouldn’t be able hear it, and Wonwoo smiles to himself.
Jihoon, who, at this point, was broke, desperate and sleep-deprived, had replied with, “Eh. I’d probably shit my pants, but I’d honestly fuck with that if I had me a thousand dollars.”)
“Wonwoo. Wonwoo—, stop. Isn’t this the place?”
“Is it?”
“Keep your voice down.” Dokyeom hisses, but he’s laughing. “You know what, use your phone and pretend to be takin’ a call.”
He feels a little stupid, pressing his phone against his ear when it’s off, but he does it, anyway. “We should go, then?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m kind of nervous. I’ve been here for a long—well. I don’t know. Scared of what Jungchannie might say.”
“You haven’t even met him yet,” he smiles, warm, “and you’re already giving him nicknames.”
“You don’t own me,” blurts out Dokyeom defensively and Wonwoo chortles. “Ugh. Whatever. Just—follow my lead, why don’t ya?”
“Your lead?”
“Jesus Christ,” Dokyeom mumbles to himself.
It’s a bookstore. Nothing wild, just a small space for any avid booklover. There are a thousand windchimes on the front door, and Dokyeom says it’s charming. Wonwoo thinks it must be a nuisance for people who are trying to read, but he says nothing. There’s a welcome mat with a cat throwing up the middle finger—which is very ...
“An interesting persona,” Dokyeom comments, a smirk overtaking his features.
“I’ll say.” He looks around the place and finds that it’s nothing like he expected—it feels homely. “This doesn’t feel creepy. You think we’re in the right place?”
But then again, Wonwoo didn’t feel like someone who talked to dead people on a daily basis. Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that—you know the drill.
Dokyeom licks his lips, “Yeah—not many ghosts in here, but definitely some stirrin’. I can feel everything going on in there—lots of crazy shit. Sick bastard probably even has a ouija board—fuck ton of vibrations goin’ on in there. Shit, could actually get off of this.”
“Seriously?” He rolls his eyes. “Come on, don’t pop a boner over an ouija board. You’re stronger than this.”
“Yessir.” Dokyeom obeys easily enough, floating beside Wonwoo carelessly as he marches up the steps, broad shoulders rigid and posture set. “What do you think he looks like? Did Jihoon give you a picture of him or?”
Wonwoo is kind of stumped. He hasn't asked Jihoon for one—or even a description of his physical features, which, all things considered, was kind of stupid. Wonwoo is basically guiding them through this whole thing blind.
“I don’t know. Creepy, with like, emo bangs. Maybe even dark circles.”
Dokyeom throws him a look. “You’re buying into the stereotypes too much, hyung. Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?”
“Shut up. This past few months have been a ride, I don’t need anyone—”
The door swings open to reveal a short man with short dark hair and catlike eyes, staring up at Wonwoo with a mug of jasmine tea. “Hi, yes, hello. Have you thought about talking to a therapist?”
“Um. What?”
“I mean,” the man elaborates, “that you’ve been talking to yourself these past few minutes, and if you aren’t planning to buy a book, maybe you could ... get lost?”
“No—I...” he splutters over himself, which makes the man look at him even more suspiciously, taking a step back to presumably slam the door in his face. “No! I—don’t, please. I’ve been looking for—um, a book.”
“Yeah? What title?”
“Looking for...” and here Wonwoo thanks every deity he knows that he’s such a nerd, because he spits out a couple of titles mostly effortlessly.
“Whatever. Come on in, I guess.” He looks to Dokyeom’s direction, who snaps up wide-eyed. Because no one’s supposed to see him there, bright and weird and full of vibrant energy, Dokyeom who’d be difficult to explain even if he wasn’t a ghost from the ‘80s—
“Hey, hyung?” Dokyeom says in a small voice, as the bookstore owner scoffs a little and smirks, before turning to meet Wonwoo’s gaze again. “I think that’s him. I think that’s the guy you’re looking for.”
Wonwoo looks at him imperceptibly, a silent how can you tell? The man is already stepping away from the door, giving him space to walk through.
“He fuckin’ looked at me,” he tells him. “And no one’s done that since you.”
“Come on, then. Get in already,” the man says.
“Um, well. Listen—actually, is your name by any chance—is your name Lee Jungchan?”
The man blinks a little, his facial muscles rearranging, until he smirks.
“The one and only,” he replies. “Now, do you really want a copy of Wicked or are you gentlemen here for something else?”
Dokyeom is flabbergasted. Wonwoo is suddenly so very tired.