Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Gihun knew as soon as he opened his eyes that today would certainly be his last day alive. The sun was nestled so perfectly in the sky, rays blinding outside his window- but it seemed like the sun couldn’t permeate his room today. He knew why.

Today was his birthday; his 40th birthday. Arguably his last day on earth as soon as the clock struck midnight; his breath was to be lost for good.

See, his family lineage has been cursed so every male would die at the ripe age of 40; and without fail, for the last century the Seong family has lost almost every male in the family as soon as they hit 40. However, his great grandfather had found a cure to it that had all but reversed the curse, letting the men grow to ripe old age, wrinkles dead-set under their eyes and deep into their cheeks before they inevitably passed away.

Gihun stretched his arms over his head, sitting up so he could strain the muscles enough to hear the bones pop satisfactorily. He let out a sigh as he heard soft rapping against his bedroom door, and without a word uttered in response, his mother peeked her head through after the door creaked open with a solemn squeal. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny, enough that all Gihun could do in response was watch her and bite his lip to keep it from trembling with the sudden weight of fear that wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing as tightly as a constrictor.

“Gi-Hun, my boy, my darling, sweet, boy” She announced, much softer than she had ever addressed him in the past, “I walked over here to wish you…” she pauses and frowns, her mouth thinning, “a very happy birthday. I’m here to gift you things you may need as soon as the clock strikes 12. They are your father’s things.”

All Gihun could do was nod his assent, his lower lip trembling against his will. His lungs were shuddering as his mother approached, unclasped the lock on a necklace and held it out, laying it gingerly on the skin of his collarbone before she tightened the clasp, screwing the latch shut.

She then lifted her hands to his cheeks, the warmth of her skin somewhat soothing the rapid pounding of Gihun’s heart as she tilted herself down and pressed her own shaking lips to his forehead. She stayed there for a moment, pressed against him reverently and when she pulled back, she lifted her son’s head to face her and the both of them watched as singular tears streaked down their cheeks.

Gihun sniffled and that was all it took for his mother’s face to crumple, pinched with despair as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head into her shoulder.

“You will be okay, my boy.” She explained as she felt her son’s face break into soft sobs, wetting her shirt fabric, “you will be okay. Wear this necklace at all times, and he will not be able to touch you.”

Gihun nodded his head, taking deep and heavy breaths as he willed himself to calm down. His heart still pounded painfully in his ribs, but he was breathing again, his fingers trembled where they were clenched in his mother’s shirt but he was regaining feeling again; pushing the fear lodged in his throat back into his chest. It wasn’t time to be so terrified; the monster hasn’t even come to greet him yet.

_______________

As the sun began to set once more, Gihun realized that for much of the day, he hadn’t moved from his spot. His mother had stayed the entire day, feeding him his favorite foods, sitting with him on the couch as they watched the news and read the hottest gossip magazines that she picked up on her way to his house while traversing the local market down the street.

Gihun had texted his friends today too, feeling the sentimentality of his crushing terror forcing his fingers to tap out the meaningful messages he was worried he wouldn’t be able to send after today. He had gotten several worried calls from some of them, some asking if he needed company or a drink.

He had shaken his head, his body thrumming with nervous energy and he was about to accept when he would turn his head to look at his mom, her eyes glazed over as she blearily took in what was happening on the screen and he would decline after every call, putting his phone back into his pocket to brush warmly against his thigh as he leaned in and put his head on her shoulder.

Each time, she would jolt out of her thoughts, turn her head to look at him and then sigh, putting her head on top of his own in comfort.

Despite the fear of loss clouding his mind, Gihun couldn’t deny that this was the most comfort he believed he could feel on his supposed last day; with the person he valued the most in the world, his mother.

After she had finished making them both dinner for the night, they both stood in silence, facing the window of his apartment that had a perfect view of the rising moon. Gihun noticed her watching the digital clock on the oven, the time ticked exactly to 10:30 pm.

His heart caught in his throat and he looked back at his mother, and her face was pinched with despair once again.

“Shall I stay, just in case, Gihun?” She whispered softly, and Gihun felt his chest tighten, his stomach curling in knots as he watched her flounder at the front door.

“No mama, I will be alright.” He felt himself respond, although his voice didn’t seem all that confident, “If I see him tonight, I don’t want him to hurt you just because you are here too. If I make it through meeting him…” He swallowed as her eyes flashed with pain, “I will call you first thing in the morning.”

She didn’t argue, she simply nodded her head in acceptance, although the tension strung through her shoulders made it quite obvious to Gihun that she was desperate to stay, to save her only son.

“Alright, my bratty, good-for-nothing, son,” she choked out with a smile, “you call me as soon as you wake.”

Gihun nodded and watched, as though stuck in a trance as she gathered her coat and market bag, slipping them on her shoulders, left a kiss on his cheek and a tight hug before she turned and exited the apartment, clicking the door shut as quietly as possible.

However, with the sound of the handle clicking back into place, the sound was loud enough to make Gihun jump at the suddenness of it. The apartment was now all too silent, and it already felt like eyes were tracking his every move.

He stared at the front door for the next half hour, his body practically shutting down as he came to terms with his fate; it belonged to nobody but himself and he could curse and scream all he wanted, but nobody could help him now. The only comforting thought in his head was that everyone he cared about was still alive and from today, knew exactly how much he cared for them… even his ex-wife knew.

Gihun shook his head and struggled to force himself to do his nightly routine. He stood in front of the mirror, robotically brushing his teeth as he struggled to meet his own eyes in the glass. He took in his dishevelled appearance, eyeing his hair that curled up at his neck and the lightest shade of stubble that graced his features, having shaved only a day prior.

He had already started trembling, so, he rummaged through the cabinet for a bottle of melatonin he swore he wouldn’t ever use. He popped two of the pills in his mouth and then, with even shakier fingers, he pulled the lighter out of his pocket and stumbled to the kitchen, opening a tacky drawer that was sticky and yellow with a coating of nicotine, pulled out his used cigarette box and fished for the last one he had saved.

With a brief glance at the clock on his stove, his mind blared in alarm as the clock ticked to 11:15pm.

He had 45 minutes to smoke his last cigarette.

The sheets were loose and cold on his skin, warped and cloying with his legs as he struggled to settle on his mattress. He decided to sit against the headboard with an aggravated sigh, his blankets pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his chest protectively.

The lights had been turned off, his night light was on and persistently glowing a soft orange light. His fan was plugged in too, blowing a soft breeze against his face, making loose strands of his hair flutter against his neck lightly.

The digital clock on his phone as he opened it, read 11:59 pm and he felt his heart leap into his throat, he inhaled and choked on his spit, making his eyes go glassy. His chest started to ache with phantom pains and he clenched his fists tightly into his sleepshirt. He was shivering and he felt his lips trembling.

Suddenly, the nightlight started to flicker; not much, but enough that it was noticeable. Then, Gihun heard the faint humming of the fan accelerate, and the sound of the blades whipping through the air started to get louder and louder, screeching through the air at unparalleled speeds as it started to blow the pictures off the wall, shedding papers across the room.

The ominous screeching of the bolts in the fan started to pair with a deep rumbling that rippled across the floorboards and started to shake his bed. Gihun clenched the blanket up to his neck and fought back the urge to clench his eyes shut in fright. Suddenly, all of the chaos stopped, making Gihun lift his head when a sudden and loud SNAP! berated his ears and all of the light left in the room and hum of appliances and anything alive clicked to black. The quietness of the room blanketed his ears and Gihun only had enough time to whimper before the black permeating his vision swarmed as loud and violent as a swarm of wasps.

The darkness clouded into a figure at the foot of his bed, gleaming red eyes that were narrowed and dangerous sucked the motion out of Gihun; he was completely paralyzed.

His mouth dropped open in hopes of uttering any single sound that may deter the spirit, but his chest was frozen. It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and the monster was the one holding it to his chest.

The form started to hover and grow bigger, eyes flashing and claws started extending towards him, making the man find motion, trembling as he felt tears drip down his cheeks, a final testament to his pain when suddenly, just as the claws reached the skin of his face, the form jolted back with a sharp, unearthly shriek.

Gihun jolted from his position, sitting up on his knees as he observed the monster shrink backwards to hold itself against the wall. Its eyes were white now and it was hunched over, looking like it was rubbing its hand to ease it of the sudden shock of pain. The form was still eyeing him with narrowed aggravation and with something else he couldn’t decipher.

“...Are you… okay?” Gihun found himself hoarsely rasping, raising a hand to reach forward, and confused as to why he was even bothering communicating with the spirit; which made the eyes on the form grow wide before it let out another unearthly screech. 

The form then expanded as though it were exploding to pieces, and Gihun watched with rapt attention as bits and pieces of the form fused with and then disappeared into the walls. The nightlight turned back on then, and the fan resumed blowing soft and cool air onto the spot where Gihun had parked himself.

He stared gaping mouthed at the spot where the monster once was and then turned back to the bed, his back ramrod straight before he let out a deep exhale… he was alive. He patted his hands up and down his body with increasing vigor before he let out a soft wail and crumbled to the bed. He felt himself heaving for air, his heart aching and pounding viciously.

Then, the phone rang, tangled in the bedsheets and vibrating noisily. He paused in his reverie and crawled up the bed, his fingers fumbling with the cold metal, flipping it over and expecting to see his mother’s ID flashing when it simply read “Unknown”.

His heart stuttered once again and something cold rushed down his back. There were still eyes on him. He wasn’t alone in his room.

He jolted and looked to and fro, looking for the form once again with no success. The phone was still ringing.

He hesitated, the heart in his throat begging for a reprieve before he willed his fingers to move, sliding the bar across on his phone and shakily lifting it to his ear.

“Hello?” He uttered softly, swallowing when all he could hear was heavy breathing on the other side.

“Seong Gihun,” a modulated and low voice growled, unearthly, through the speaker, “You cannot hide from me forever. The last 455 men of your family have eventually died trying to escape from me.”

Gihun felt a familiar tremor and rage curl into his gut and he stiffened despite his fear.

“Maybe this time I will be the one to break the curse.” Gihun uttered back, which earned him a demonic laugh that seemed to echo around his room, making Gihun shake in horror.

“ I truly wish you luck, however, I am sure that of us, I will be the one to steal your breath .”

“We’ll see!” Gihun screamed back, but he had already disconnected the call. He was alone once more.

Trembling, Gihun threw his phone across the room, and when it rang again and again throughout the course of the night, he threw the phone out the door and onto the kitchen counter instead.

_______________

Living with the demon was not easy, nor did he ever really expect it to be. The first few months were the most horrifying months that Gihun had ever experienced in his life. The phone would ring ominously at the darkest hours of the night, promising his demise with shrieking laughter that followed him into his nightmares, claws reaching for him endlessly and the wake of terror curling its fingers around his already breathless throat.

His family and friends were elated that he had turned out to be safe, Sangwoo and Jung Bae respectively bought him drinks and celebrated by going to the movies, which ended up being a terror in itself because it seemed that only Gihun could comprehend the glowing eyes that tracked his every move from the screen and the foggy figure that would taunt him in the corner of the room with a finger pointed at him, as if to tell him that he was next to suffer.

So, he stopped going to the movies altogether. Yet, he hadn’t suffered at his hand quite yet.

And when he and his friends would drink at the bar at night, his walks home at night would have darkness chasing him, hands extended and otherworldly snarling nipping at his ankles as he tripped across town, rushing as fast as he could to get home. When he called for help, people averted their gazes and would move to hide from him, certain that he was insane.

A couple of times, he would awaken from another restless night and shriek at the sight of blood dripping down the walls. I'm going to steal your breath written in sharp scratches that were unexplainable.

The first time he saw it, he screamed, making the foggy figure appear in the darkest corner of the room, eyes flashing red before lunging at him, claws gleaming threateningly.

“ I will win this game, Seong Gihun! ” the voice would growl in promise before letting out a harsh laugh, rushing at him before breaking into jagged pieces and melting into the walls once more.

Gihun had become a very paranoid person; and it seemed that the only one who knew why was Gihun’s mother, who had openly sobbed with relief as soon as Gihun phoned her, telling her that he was still alive. He had rushed over to her apartment as soon as they finished the call, and he didn’t leave her arms for a very long time.

The tears he had shed that day dripped over his nose and pooled into her shirt so much that when they had finished their crying session, she had to go and change.

For the first time in decades, they held hands as they walked through the market, once again making a dinner comprised of his favourite foods; but this time, it was truly congratulatory. He had survived his 40th birthday.

In this knowledge, he started to anticipate the monster’s games. He even grew comfortable, even in the direct presence of the monster. Every time his horrified reaction didn’t come through, the monster would go silent, angry at the lack of response from his victim.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Who made you like this?”

“How do I break this curse?”

“Were you cursed to do this?”

Every question Gihun asked over the phone and into the pulsing fog surrounding him would always end the same; the monster would vanish. Questions unanswered every time, disappointing Gihun a little more every time he tried.

The bare minimum was that he was surviving…

But that was just it, wasn’t it? He had only just survived.

Gihun went out for drinks again, 2 months after the demon had essentially started living with him and this time, he was hoping to lure some answers out of the monster who was chasing him once he had finished, but this time, the tension in the air was different. The eyes watching him were dangerous, yes, but they were human, not demonic.

He was perplexed as he glanced around the bar, ignoring the drunken laughing and gibberish language of his companions, Jung Bae, Dae Ho, Sangwoo, Ali, and Sae Byeok. He didn’t see his accompanying monster anywhere, but he also couldn’t identify where the eyes were coming from; it was enough to make him uneasy, bringing back a trembling to his fingers.

Nonetheless, he convinced himself, shaking his head that it was likely just the monster finding a new way to mess with him. So, he continued on with his drinking, blithely aware of the eyes tracking him as he chugged down another pint of cheap beer. As long as he wore the iron necklace, he was bound to be safe.

Hours later, he stumbled out of the bar, handing some of his leftover cash to the cab driver who was ushering Sangwoo and Dae Ho into the backseat with Ali shaking his head and Jung Bae and Sae Byeok waving at them with amused glances at the two.

“Hey, Gihun, let me know when you get home!” Jung Bae hollered as he tripped down the sidewalk.

Gihun raised his thumb into the air with a loud noise of affirmation before he turned the corner and started his way home. His feet slapped into the pavement, kicking up small droplets of water that melted into the material of his socks, making him uncomfortably wet. But he grinned despite this, hiccuping into his fist as he inhaled deeply and watched the sidewalk in front of him. 

The heat that radiated from his cheeks and his open mouth created a slight fog that drifted across the air around him and he smiled in child-like wonder at the minute beauty of it.

The monster didn’t chase him tonight! Maybe he finally left due to the obvious lack of concern that Gihun seemed to be showing the more they interacted at home. An odd feeling of relief and something else filled his chest and he laughed a bit into the air.

But then, he heard it. He slowed to a stop underneath a streetlight, as something cold slithered down his spine. Something was definitely off, but it wasn’t the familiarity of the monster.

It was a new presence. It was a physical presence; warm in the air, and a cold, sharp touch that dug into his shoulder.

“Well, if it isn’t one of my favorite clients!” Sudden fear choked his throat and Gihun let out a sharp inhale and whine. This was a monster, alright.

It was a human monster.

“Mr. Kim,” Gihun gasped, raising his hands in surrender as every hair on his body stood on edge. A hazy chuckle slid along his neck and suddenly, hot breath curled along his exposed skin. An arm wrapped around his midsection and he was suddenly wrenched into the darkness of an alleyway, just visible by the streetlight.

The bricks crunched into his back and he let out a groan of pain before another flash of excruciating pain suddenly exploded across his face.

“I’ve been wondering where you were these past few months, Gihun, my boy.” Mr. Kim’s voracious voice called out, “By the way we spoke last, I thought you were going to die! Can’t have that when you have so much debt to pay me back for!”

“I really thought I was going to die,” Gihun supplied softly, wrapping his hand around his nose as he felt wet heat slide down his lips. His eyes were stinging with pain.

“Well, if you die, I’ll have to go after your mother; you and I both don’t want that, now do we?” Mr. Kim grumbled, smiling from where Gihun could see him, but his eyes were anything but friendly.

“Don’t you dare go after my mom. She has done nothing wrong.” Gihun started before hissing at the cool touch of Mr. Kim’s blade against his neck.

“Well then, no dying on me before I can get someone to buy your organs, got it?” Mr. Kim chuckled, leaning forward enough to press the jagged edges of his sharpened bread knife deeper into the skin of Gihun’s neck. 

With a quick glance to the side, Gihun spotted his lackeys leaning against the wall of his exit, blocking the path for anyone to see him or make an escape. He felt his heart sink and the trembling in his body began once more.

“Now, onto business.” Kim’s voice began, making Gihun panic, his chest trembling with every inhale.

“Mr. Kim, I don’t have any money on me right now.” he mumbled out quickly, feeling around his pockets; which made Mr. Kim visibly sneer.

“Well that’s quite the dilemma, isn’t it? I guess that means I have to take something from you at least, don’t you think?” He grinned, chuckling as he dropped his blade down to Gihun’s hand, pressing his other hand deep against Gihun’s throat.

Gihun tried to choke out a response, his head growing lightheaded as he spluttered, trying to dissuade the man pressing him to the wall, but all he could feel was the harshness of the blade digging into the skin of his wrist.

He let out a garbled wail as the skin split.

“You don’t need this hand, do you Gihun? It’ll take me a while to get through the veins and bone, but don’t worry- I won’t let you lose too much blood.” Kim grinned at the tears dripping down his victim’s cheeks as he began to move the knife back and forth like a saw, making Gihun screech in agony as he felt his skin start to rip under the teeth of the metal.

But just as he had started to cut deeper, his weight was suddenly lifted from Gihun’s front and the man watched in muted horror as the loan shark was lifted into the air, limbs askew, and slammed into the wall opposite of him so hard that the entire wall of the building opposite of him shook.

His lackeys had jolted and whirled around, their mouths dropping in shock as their boss crumbled to the ground, blood spilling from his lips as he hacked and gasped for air. Meanwhile, Gihun was clenching his wrist to his chest, his shirt a mess of blood and spit and tears, fear clouding his eyes.

“I didn’t do it.” He whimpered out, but it was too late. 

The two lackeys had already begun to approach him, one holding a gun, and the other holding a knife that was much smaller than Mr. Kim’s, but jagged like his own. The metal gleamed in the darkness of the alley, and Gihun let out another terrified shrill.

Just as suddenly as before, the two lackeys were raised into the air, slammed together and then pinned to the wall, choking on their spit as they reached for hands that were holding their necks that weren’t visibly there.

Gihun tripped onto his knees, watching with muted horror as sudden gushes of red spilt from the lackey’s abdomens and their cries of pain and terror filled the alleyway. Gihun held his wrist to his chest and started to hyperventilate; the air couldn’t reach his lungs fast enough.

“No… No… No, please stop.” He was begging softly, hoarsely as he started to cower to the ground. He knew who it was, it could only be one thing doing this.

Sure enough, red eyes flashed to life and Gihun let out a shrill sob.

“ I am the only one who is allowed to steal his breath .”

Mr. Kim was suddenly jolted up from the ground where he had started to crawl out of the alleyway and he was pinned to the wall with another harsh slam, letting out a horror filled scream as an audible ripping of skin wrenched a soul-shaking scream from the shark.

Gihun let out an anguished cry and he fell forward crawling to kneel in front of the red eyes that eyed the bleeding men against the wall.

“Please, let them go. They don’t deserve this, nobody does.” Gihun pleaded, eyes filled with tears. He was so exhausted, breath wasn’t reaching his head.

The figure tilted its head and watched him curiously as the man crouched over his knees imploringly. Then, Gihun felt his injured arm lifting against his will and he whined once again as the cut was exposed to the cold air. Blood dripped from the cut languidly and Gihun felt like he would pass out watching the droplets meld with the pavement.

“ ... they made you bleed and yet you plead for me to spare them. Why? ” The voice of the monster was softer now; confused. It was the first time that Gihun had ever heard the monster’s voice in a different emotion than anger. His eyes melted into white.

“Because they don’t deserve this fate. They can change their ways.” Gihun sighed resolutely, sniffling the blood up from where it was dripping out of his nose still.

It was silent, save for the lackey’s and shark’s harsh breathing and groans.

Finally, Gihun closed his eyes and slumped forward, prepared to land on frigid and sharp ground; but became consciously confused at the finding that he never felt the pavement reach the skin of his face as he passed out. Which was even more confusing when he had awoken the next morning wrapped in his blankets, and when he raised his arm to look at his wound blearily, his eyes bugged at the sight of the splint that was wrapped tightly around his skin. In that instant, his phone rang from his bedside and he scrambled to answer it.

“ ... I will win this game, Seong Gihun. ” the voice promised once again, but this time it sounded more uncertain; if only by a little bit- but it was enough for Gihun to pause and stare at his phone as though the monster was watching him through it.

“We’ll see.” Gihun whispered.

The phone line clicked off.

It happened exactly a month later. It was sudden, harsh; Gihun would argue he knew it would happen eventually, especially when he would attend his mother’s wellness checks. He knew it was coming, but he still didn’t want to acknowledge it. His mother was fine then; she would be fine for longer.

It was a comforting thought, one that Gihun held onto strongly as he stumbled through his days, picking up odd jobs to assist with her mortgage and medical bills. The monster that hung over his shoulder each day had even quelled his fright tactics and started leaving small messages for him, reminding him of his on-call work in the foggy mirrors, and “Call Your Mom.” written in blood that trailed down the walls. Gihun would chuckle, dip his finger into his coffee for the morning and write back a “thank you” with the leftover coffee grinds, or he would doodle a little heart or smiley face into the condensation on the mirrors.

This time, however, all that was written on the wall was “Go to her. Now.” and Gihun felt his heart leap into his throat. He choked on air, flying up from his bed and hurried to put on clothes as fast as his aching muscles would allow. The sleepy haze in his brain made him trip out his own door, slamming his nose into the balcony outside his front door, but he scrambled to his feet, his breath whistling in his ears now from how quickly his chest was breathing.

He sprinted down the street, taking the alleyways and tunnels that found him wading through litter, overflowing dumpsters, and hunched over folk who looked at him suspiciously; but at this moment, he could only think of one person.

He stumbled out onto her street and flung himself onto her front porch, ringing the doorbell insistently.

He even felt the presence of the monster hovering around him, not at all visible, but the eyes were watching him, waiting with him for a response. Gihun waited for his mother to open the door with a gruff noise of annoyance, shaking her head as she begrudgingly let him inside, and Gihun nodded his head, awaiting it.

Minutes passed and Gihun felt his chest tightening as he leaned forward and rang the doorbell once more. There was no response once again.

He started to hyperventilate as he crouched down, lifting the welcome mat with ice cold hands, and he felt like he was in a trance as he blearily shoved the key into the lock and twisted it open with a click.

The house was eerily silent, and all Gihun could hear was the hum of appliances and soft air blowing through the cold morning. He looked down and felt his heart seize at the sight of his mother’s shoes still placed neatly on the foyer tiling and he knelt down, loosening his shoes from his ankles before he padded onto the wooden floor, feeling coldness creep up his skin.

“Ma?” He called out, flurrying further into the hallway with a gust of fear following his every step. He had a new fear now; and it shocked him at how viscerally it clawed at his throat. He didn’t get a response.

He slowly pushed open every door, worried of what he would find, and would find himself sighing with relief with the absence of her in those rooms. It wasn’t until he had reached the end of the hallway that he hesitated, knowing the last room was her bedroom. His fingers brushed against the wood of the door and every instinct in his body was telling him to hold back; prolong it because the answer was not desirable.

In fact, he found himself crying as he started to crumple to the ground, his knees pressed firmly into the wood as he shook his head from side to side, delaying the inevitable. He knew what was behind that door.

His phone rang, and upon noticing the unknown caller ID, he answered and raised the phone to his ear, aware that every sob that he released was heard by the monster.

“ ... It seems you already know what has happened. ” the Monster’s soft voice alerted him, making the tears roll down his cheeks harder.

“Did you do this to her?” Gihun asked curling in on himself, wrapping his arms tight around his midsection.

“ I would never. I made a promise to never harm her. ” The monster sounded rather upset at the accusation but he had swallowed it regardless, “ No, I just felt that something was off; something had changed. ”

Gihun sat silently on his phone, staring at the grains in the wood before he raised his hand and began to push at the door.

“ Gihun, you don’t want to see this… ” the Monster’s voice softly pleaded, making the man pause and stare at his fingers that trembled with the effort of being raised.

“She’s my mom; I have to.” Came his whispered response.

And when his eyes fixed onto her as he opened the door, his scream was heard blocks away.

He doesn’t know how long he was curled up on his mother’s bedroom floor; even after the neighbors had called the police in a panic and had moved her from the floor to the hospital. Gihun remembers blithely following them, answering their blurred questions of who he was and his relation to the woman they had carried out of the house.

He was trembling as people he couldn’t see through his hazed eyes patted him on the shoulder and apologized for his loss. He could only shake his head in grief and float past them.

Once the coroner had taken her in, Gihun sat in the office, staring into space. His hand was wrapped around the Iron chain that his mother had gifted him 6 months ago, and his fingers pinched at the sharp nubs of the barbed metal, sending sharp stings down the nerves of his arms. His brain was purposefully avoiding any deeper thoughts, only a reminder to drink water, use the bathroom when he had to pee, chew his food and swallow down the correct tube, and check his email to see if there was any upcoming work that he had to prepare for.

It wasn’t until 12 PM that he had heard back from the coroner. He received a paper with words scrawled across it that he couldn’t decipher, so he watched the man blankly as he explained what he had found in his observations. She had passed sometime in the morning around 6 AM, likely from a heart attack. Gihun choked and he felt his throat buzzing and closing in on itself.

He was 2 hours late. If he had woken up at 5 and went to see her, he may have saved her life.

Past that, everything was a blur. All he could recall was returning to her house, unveiling the key for his mother’s door and blearily opening the door with a creak. The hum of the appliances welcomed him once again, but it was colder now. Drawers were left half opened, shuffled documents on the dining room table, and his mother’s belongings had been moved to and fro.

He gripped a sweater that hung by the door in his fist and gently pulled it off the hook with a soft releasing sound. He slipped off his shoes that he had left untied with his trek to and from the hospital and crept down the hallway once again. This time, he couldn’t feel what his chest was doing; he felt empty as he approached the door. It was slightly open still, and now, the warmth in the room had all but vanished.

The sun was still shining into the room, fluttering in the branches, but the heat of it was absent as Gihun crawled into his mother’s bed, the sheets still wrinkled and blankets slumped onto the floor from when Gihun had wrenched the blankets off of her body.

He brought the sweater to his nose and inhaled deeply as he pulled the blankets over himself, curled into the furthest corner of the bed, closest to the darkness of the room.

As he continued breathing into the sweater, he felt his eyes fill with tears. They were hot, big, painful as they trailed down his nose and cheeks and he opened his mouth in a silent scream. When he had inhaled, making the softest of sounds, he finally choked on his voice, letting out a piercing wail.

He couldn’t find it in him to stop. He was curling tighter and tighter into his mother’s sweater, hands clenched in the fabric so sharply that he was sure he would rip it apart. He could feel his entire body aching with the weight of his sobs, and he wanted someone to hold him, rub out the aches and pains, soothe his head with a soft kiss.

He wailed, screamed, wrenched out the sobs that he couldn’t withhold beating into his chest. His skin buzzed every time he took a ragged inhale, which would be followed with a painful cry of yearning. It felt like the ache would never subsist.

So he just cried. 

When he had finally stopped sobbing, it was nearing sundown, and the room was now quite dark. The sun’s rays had stopped shining quite a while ago, and Gihun was almost expecting to hear the voice that has haunted him for the last half year. But when he finally did, it had changed.

“Gihun,” The voice uttered softly, making him open his eyes to see two bright eyes staring at him from the corner he was facing; very close, almost close enough to touch, “Gihun, you need to eat.” His voice was different now, more human, still husky and deep.

“What’s the point?” Gihun asked, his voice scratchy and hoarse enough to make him flinch.

“Gihun, your mother wanted you to live. She wants you to live happily and enjoy the rest of your days.”

Gihun scoffed and buried his face further into his mother’s sweater.

“Yeah, live the rest of my days with you trying to kill me; you know that’s not living, that’s surviving.”

“I haven’t tried to kill you for the last 3 months, I’ve chased you, I’ve written you messages, but that has been it.” The voice continued, sounding exasperated and a bit hurt, “what would you call that?”

Gihun remained silent and felt his eyes burn as he started sniffling again, distantly hearing a forlorn sigh from the monster in front of him.

“Gihun, I know you’re aching; you’re hurt, and you’re tired- but you need to eat. Do it for your mom.” The voice whispered softly again, making Gihun raise his head once again to look into the bright eyes that were slanted on his form.

Gihun nodded his head distantly, and the form seemed to relax a bit, gesturing an arm out the door, to which Gihun wrapped the sweater around his shoulders and then gripped the blankets around him too, shuffling out of the room with a tired sigh.

When he reached the kitchen table, he paused, observing the light was already on and there was soup, steaming out of a bowl with a spoon.

He stood in the door frame, swaying a bit with the effort of standing after hours of crying. His hands curled into the wooden frame as his eyes watched the bowl with a level of suspicion, his stomach churning uncomfortably at the idea of consuming anything. He looked around the kitchen warily and found no evidence of anyone having been there. 

“Um… Excuse me, but do you know who brought this food in?” Gihun called out into the room as he approached the table to sit.

“I did, actually…. I made it.” the voice supplied, making Gihun jerk in surprise as the figure formed in the corner of the room once more. However this time, his form was more clear; transparent, human shaped with a turtleneck, long jacket, and boots. He couldn’t have been a couple inches shorter than him at full height.

Gihun watched him with a gaping mouth as the figure sighed and slumped into the chair opposite of him.

“I figured because of everything you went through today, it’s only fair that I show you what I used to look like as a human.” He murmured into his hands.

“So, may I ask… how did you become… this?” Gihun whispered, raising the spoon to his lips.

The figure remained silent, watching him with a pained look in his eyes before he inhaled as deeply as he could. His form shuddered as he lowered his hands to the table once more.

“I honestly don’t recall,” he began and then interrupted before Gihun could scoff into his soup, “All I can recall is that my life as a human was hard. I remember every hardship I had endured as a human. I was tortured throughout my childhood, I had a dad that would beat me regularly, my mom passed away when I was quite young. I was adopted and cared for by my aunt and younger step brother, joined the police force, and then met an extraordinary woman who I married as soon as I could afford a ring- but… it all went wrong when she suddenly got sick; I fell into major debt trying to save her and ended up working with the very same scammers who scammed me in the first place to try and get money for her medical expenses, but while I was away, she passed, taking our baby with her. Past that, I don’t know what happened.”

Gihun sat heavy in his seat, his chest tight and aching as he took in the way that the figure across from him slumped onto the table, his hands clasped and covering his eyes now.

“I’m… I’m so sorry that you had to experience that… I never knew how painful loss was until…” He swallowed and decided not to finish his sentence. His stomach cramped and he decided to drop the spoon into the bowl.

The two remained silent, watching each other with a new sense of tension trembling in the air around them. It was understanding that permeated the air now. It was comforting, and for the first time in the entire day, Gihun felt warmth bloom in his chest. 

It was soft, beating like the fluttering of a bird's wings inside his chest, making him softly gulp in air.

“Can you… tell me what your name is?” Gihun asked, making the other look up, eyes wide with surprise.

“It's… I- I don’t remember what it is… For years, the members of your family called me the Frontman. I don’t even remember my name anymore.”

Gihun paused and then clenched his fists under the table, staring into the grain of the wood, pulling the fabric of the blankets further around his frame.

“How about… Young Il? Oh Young Il?” Gihun whispered.

The man raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked up a bit, shocking Gihun straight to his chair. His smile was gorgeous.

“Oh Young Il? Why that name?”

Gihun shrugged his shoulders helplessly and looked down at the table once again in embarrassment.

“I don’t know, I mean I guess because I have only ever met only one kind of you before… I don’t want to call you number 1, cause that’s weird, but Oh Young Il seems to fit… don’t you think?”

The man across from him tilted his head and watched him with a look that Gihun couldn’t decipher. But it was soft.

“Yeah.. I like that name, let’s go with Oh Young Il.”

_____________

Living with Young Il became something comfortable, lenient, calming… Gihun had no idea that he could ever feel truly comfortable in his apartment so soon after his mother had passed, but he found his shoulders slumping ever so much, his face untensing, and his breath coming in slower.

He mused that his chest didn’t feel tight anymore with a soft smile etched onto his face before his chest stuttered something awful when he opened the door one night, taking off his shoes after a long night out and was greeted with the bluish outline of the shorter, broad-shouldered man with his arms crossed, a smirk across his handsome face, and his arms crossed, leaning against the wall as he raked his eyes up and down Gihun’s ragged form.

“You’re back late.” He quipped softly, his breath wispy as he drifted closer.

Gihun laughed, scratching his head as he toed off his socks and stumbled forward with a sudden shock of cold from his bare feet touching the wooden paneling of his floor.

“I didn’t have you chasing me like you normally do, that’s why I’m a bit late.”

The silhouette of the other man flickered dimly and his face twisted in a sudden frown and Gihun stopped rubbing his hands together, startled at how upset the man became at his teasing.

“I’m sorry, was that too soon?” He whispered, stepping forward with his palms facing up.

The man stepped back a bit and gave him a pained smile.

“Not at all, I understand why you would say that,” he whispered out.

It was silent as the two stared at each other, and Gihun felt his heart thudding painfully under his ribs as he took in the silhouette’s slouched position.

“You know… I kinda liked it when you followed me around,” Gihun remarked, looking down at the floor with a pause, “after a while, it felt like playing tag or hide and go seek… And after that attack you saved me from, it felt like I had a guard dog. I never did thank you for that… thank you.”

It was silent, making Gihun look up, only to see Young Il’s eyes incredibly close to his own, full of the same emotion that he had seen since his first time showing him his human-esque form. His translucent fingers were raised, as though he had been moving to caress his face, and his eyes were filled with the shine of longing.

“You are such a dork, Seong Gihun.” He finally murmured with a soft smile, his lips quirked softly, making Gihun’s heart tremble torturously within his chest.

He grinned, stepping away with a cough, raising his shaking hands to his face as he carded his hands through his lengthening hair nervously, stepping into the kitchen where a glass of water and a bowl of soup sat waiting, steaming into the soft light that had been dimmed for the later hours of the night.

“You’re always feeding me kimchi jjigae, you know you don’t have to.”

“I like to, you did say it's one of your favorites, right?” The silhouette shrugged as he turned to face the stove with an ambient smile, “it’s odd, I think when I was human, I really enjoyed making food for people, I guess? It’s satisfying to see people eat.”

“Nobody would be able to tell you haven’t touched a stove for 100 years!” Gihun laughed, making Young Il turn around with his mouth gaping, completely flabbergasted at his remark.

“Are you insinuating my food is not good, Seong Gihun?” He exclaimed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the stove.

Gihun waved his hand dismissively and shook his head, still giggling through his last mouthful of broth and beef.

He swallowed and raised his head, his lips stretching into a smile he couldn’t contain.

“Of course not, Young Il.” the silhouette looked perplexed, a cross of emotions that Gihun couldn’t name, “I’m saying that your food is wonderful… I am happy to come home to your food.”

Young Il smiled, his shoulders relaxing further, serene in a way that made the room heat up with a tension that Gihun could feel simmering in a pot.

“I’m glad.”

“So, Young Il, you said that you don’t recall how you were turned into this?” Gihun asked softly one night, the two leaning back against the couch as the TV flickered imperceptibly in the foreground. Young Il’s arm was stretched across the back of the couch cushions they were leaned up against, and Gihun lamented the fact that he couldn’t feel any warmth emanating from the figure next to him, feeling an odd chill overcome him as he watched Young Il’s outline stiffen where it was hovering.

Young Il’s form twitched at that as he turned to watch Gihun warily. Gihun’s breath caught as their eyes met, feeling an embarrassed heat crawl up the skin of his neck.

“No, I don’t recall how I became this…” He responded softly.

“May I ask… what exactly are you?” Gihun asked, leaning forward into his space, fingers interlaced hesitantly.

Young Il inhaled sharply and darted his eyes around Gihun’s face, his expression tight and pained.

“I guess based on what I am capable of doing, I’m a demon or ghost harbinger of death… but in most likely senses, I’m an angry, vengeful spirit.” Young Il sighed, his shoulders pulling taut, making Gihun’s throat tighten with guilt.

“Do you know if the curse you’re under can be broken?” Gihun queried quietly, dropping his head down to dangle towards his lap.

The inhale he heard this time was a little less forced; more of a gasp of surprise, which made his face get hotter.

“Are you saying you care for me that much?” Young Il’s teasing tone was back, making Gihun groan.

“Young Il, I’m being serious!” Gihun whined, clenching his teeth.

Young Il hummed under his breath, bringing his hand to rest underneath his chin, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully as Gihun melted into a puddle beside him.

“I wouldn’t know where to start to be quite honest… I’m assuming you’ve researched a little bit since you’ve seemed pretty curious about this since I first met you.” He mused, his eyes soft as he watched him out of the corner of his eye.

“I have,” Gihun cleared his throat and leaned forward on the couch, his elbows placed on his knees haphazardly, “The only thing that I read was if I were to attempt to free you, I would have to learn the origin of the curse and reverse it… if you’re an angry spirit, I have to rectify what it is that you are upset about… The rest was stupid fairy tale curse-breaking shit.”

Young Il looked intrigued, tilting his head to the side with a smirk as he watched Gihun’s face devolve into something bright pink and hot.

Cute…

“Oh? And what did the ‘fairy tale curse breaking shit’ say, exactly?” He teased, making Gihun’s heartbeat skyrocket. Young Il looked a little surprised at the sudden change of tempo in Gihun’s chest.

“You know… the Disney movie shit… the- the…” He swallowed, bringing a hand through his hair, looking away and at the floor intently, “...kissing. Kissing was the fairy-tale breaking shit.”

Young Il laughed as Gihun hid his face in his hands, his cheeks bright red.

“Oh, you are just too fun, Gihun. I love watching you get all nervous. It’s cute.” Young Il sighed, leaning back into the couch with a sigh.

Despite no weight shifting the cushions, Gihun couldn’t help but feel the phantom of warmth from the cold-blooded figure next to him, making him scoff into his sleeves.

“Don’t tease me, Young Il.” Gihun gritted out, his hands trembling as he started to inhale and calm his heart rate down.

“I mean it, Gihun… You are cute; I’m not teasing.” Young Il promised, his voice light enough to make shivers go down Gihun’s spine.

It was quiet again, the TV now the main source of the noise in the apartment, including the soft buzzing of the fan from Gihun’s room and the hum of the refrigerator turning on and off again as it regulated its’ internal temperature.

“Thank you, Young Il.” came Gihun’s eventual, soft reply.

It had been a few dizzying days, confusion was a tangible thing that seemed to be cinched to his side, whispering into his ear. Gihun would randomly pause throughout his day to think about how nice it would be to feel Young Il’s hands lace through his.

Would they be soft and cold? Large, hot, and cracked with effort as they slid across the skin of his arms? His back?

How would Young Il’s hands feel if they curved down to wrap around his torso as they hugged? Or if they inched their way down to cup his ass through his jeans?

What if he didn’t have jeans on? What then?

Then he let out a groan and shook his head vehemently. It’s not like he’s ever been attracted to men up to this point either; he’s only ever dated girls, but he can admit to having appreciated hot men in his life too. Why is it now that he wants to feel this man’s nonexistent body against his in the most intimate way possible?

Gihun stumbled his way back from the autobody shop with a gruff sigh as he knocked over a couple of small trashcans on his way home.

“Aish…” He cursed, running a hand down his face, “... what is up with me? Am I losing my mind?”

But as he ascended his stairs and unlocked the door just as Young Il’s figure backdropped against the living room with a subtle smirk, Gihun felt his heart leap to his throat.

“Jagiya,” Young Il announced jokingly, “you’re home. How was work?”

Gihun’s mouth flapped open and closed, no noise escaped his throat as blood surged up to bloom across his face. He glared and sputtered uselessly.

“Don’t joke like that, Young Il!” Gihun spluttered with a huff, crossing his arms.

Young Il laughed and drifted closer, his arms crossed as he leaned in to watch Gihun’s face flush different shades of pink and red as the proximity lessened into just inches of space.

“Gosh…” Young Il breathed out after a minute of observation, causing the tension to drain from Gihun as he timidly shifted his gaze to face Young Il’s again.

“What is it?”

“I would love to feel your face with my hand.” Young Il murmured, sounding almost like he was possessed.

Gihun’s jaw unhinged, causing Young Il to jolt back into consciousness with a rapid widening of his eyes and somehow, his face growing paler.

“N-not in that sense! Just to, you know, feel heat again!”

Gihun nodded his head dumbly as the spectre rushed towards the kitchen, his mouth pulled taut and jaw clenched just enough that Gihun could see the sharp bone; and he was suddenly filled with the intense balloon of desire to lean in and draw his tongue up the side of the ghost’s neck.

And with that, he rushed to the bathroom, hid his face in his hands as he slumped and slid down the back of the door with a sigh, and his mind racing with denial.

But after several of these instances; Young Il tracing his face with a certain glint in his eye, his ghostly hand inching towards his in the darkness of the living room as the two tried to convince the other that they were diligently watching whatever was on TV, the shy smiles and bombarding laughter to dispel the tension between the two as they tried to subtly drag their gazes down the length of their bodies… It was hard for Gihun to pretend there was nothing stuttering in his heart when he watched the ghost turn around and welcome him home with a soft smile every night.

Something was changing; and he knew that as much as his body tingled with excitement and heat at the thought of the man’s hands wrapping around his throat, that this would be what unbearably killed him. And with that, that was when the mistakes started to happen.

It became a nasty habit; one Gihun was desperate to keep under wraps… quite literally. Every single day and night was a testament to his suffering; and it didn’t help that it seemed that Young Il wanted him just as much as he desired the spectre.

Unwanted dreams and indulgent imaginations; Gihun moaned as quietly as he could into his fist as he tilted his head back, his fingers barely caressing the head of his penis as his mind started to drift towards the handsome ghost for the seventh night that week.

The curve of his jaw, the smirk of his lips as he leans close with his chin propped in his elbow, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as his eyes scraped down Gihun’s frame as deeply as the spoon Gihun was using for his soup that night would carve.

What would Young Il look like with his eyes darkened just that much more? Panting and sweat dripping down his cheek and into his neck, eyes focused and mouth dangling open as he panted for breath above him?

He pressed his fingers into his mouth and depressed into his tongue, softly moaning as he tasted the salt that wept across his skin.

A smirk across Young Il’s features, but this time, as he looks at Gi Hin from above? Gihun choked and bit his lip as he tried to quietly shift his legs to fall apart enough to reach down and prod at his hole with the tips of his wet fingers.

Gihun… Do you want it?

Gihun nodded his head desperately at the creation in his head, eyes wide and wet as he started to push in one soaked finger; the tip of it causing his legs to jolt and brain to short-circuit.

“Ah…” Gihun called out softly as he clenched his eyes shut, his other hand drifting down the length of his cock before he wrapped his overheated hand around the base.

Oh Gihun, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long.

“Me too, oh god, me too , Young Il!”  Gihun moaned out, as he started to pump his hand up and down, his thumb pressed beneath his frenulum, the soft callus on his thumb from working at the shop causing friction to blind his senses. His ears were ringing and he could barely breathe as he imagined the other man losing his control at the sight of him.

He pricked his finger and dipped it deep into his anus, lax at first to lighten the odd feeling of the foreign object before he started to move it, caressing the walls with a carefulness he had never felt the need to do before.

“Ah, Young Il,” Gihun panted inside his fantasy as he let his tongue dangle uselessly from his mouth; an open invitation for the other to delve his own tongue inside, “Young Il… I’ve never been with another man before… What if I mess up?”

Baby, let me take care of you. You won’t mess up; you couldn’t… everything you do is beautiful and… so sexy to me.

With that, Gihun let a second finger breach and he nearly came at the feeling of being stuffed full. He huffed for air uselessly, shuddering on his own fingers as his mind raced; picturing Young Il’s lax face, awe and desire sewed into his features as he watched the man beneath him fall apart. Gihun pumped his hand up and down the hot foreskin of his dick, relaxing his tense muscles enough before he started to experiment spreading his fingers, scissoring the skin apart to allow for more space.

As he started moving deeper, ignoring the odd jolts of discomfort and ache of fingers that were still a bit too dry, the tip of his middle finger brushed against a softer, cushioned and hot pad of tissue that made stars explode in front of his eyes; prompting a very loud and obvious moan of shock.

The ache from before had blasted away with the feeling, and his other hand that was occupied with his dick had latched into the sheets below in shock.

“Ah… Ah! ” He called out as quietly as he could, eyes wide open and glued to the ceiling above him as he panted for breath.

He paused and brushed it again with a very similar reaction before he started to tap at it mercilessly, pressing his finger deep into the heated silk of the pad. 

His body was arching on its own, curling like paper to a flame as it begged for mercy? Release? He couldn’t tell as he clenched his eyes shut again, dragging his head back and exposing the length of his neck to the open air.

He let out periodic moans as he pressed against the tissue; growing in volume as he started to curl his fingers against the spot. But after a few minutes of that movement, it wasn’t enough.

“I need more…” Gihun murmured into the air, his tongue dragging against his bottom lip as he started to push the fingers in and out slowly, causing his back to arch further off the bed with a loud and drawn out moan.

Gihun… Baby, oh, you look so good on my fingers… Is this what you want? To fall apart for me?

Young Il’s voice echoed in his brain, causing him to let out breathless whines, unbidden into the coldness of his room.

He nodded his head fervently, the material of his pillows scratching deliciously against his scalp, enough that he could picture Young Il’s other hand drifting up from where it was curled tightly around his waist to grip into his hair as he dragged his body closer to the man crumbling beneath him.

The air of the fan blowing into his face was now the breath of the man in his imagination; hot and whispered as he panted into Gihun’s flushed ear; sighing as the man cried out for more.

“Young Il… Young Il- I-I’m so close-!” Gihun choked out, tears welling in his eyes as pressure started to build up at the base of his penis; reaching down from where his hand was clenched in the sheets to wrap his fingers tightly around the skin and start roughly dragging his hand up and down rhythmically with the thrusting of his fingers.

Fall apart for me, Jagiya… I love you so much…

With that, Gihun let out a cry and felt himself burst apart at the seams; heat jolted up his spine and his legs shook, toes curling as a supernova crashed into him; electrifying his nerves so heatedly that stars swam in his vision and he couldn’t even hear how loud his cries and moans were. 

He could feel warmth spreading across his thighs and onto the blanket he had pulled above him; drenched and dripping in his passion as he started to feel his senses bleed back into reality. His ears were ringing as his eyes were blurry as he attempted to blink them back into focus. He was panting for air and he could suddenly feel the ache in his muscles from where he had positioned his arms as he slowly dragged them out of his ass and back to the sheets where blood rushed down to trembling fingers that were clenched into the bed. He couldn’t even tell that his fingers went numb from how fervently he had been fingering himself open.

After a minute of very heavy breathing and waiting for his nerves to drift back down from their haze of pleasure, he gingerly sat up and grimaced at the view of his legs and blanket; dark with moist spots that had rapidly cooled off in the night air.

He felt guilt inflate in his lungs, crushing in its weight; enough to smother the remaining heat of desire and pleasure that he had felt from his imagination. He felt the tears of pleasure from his orgasm churn and drip down his cheeks in sorrow as he roughly wiped them away and stood on shaky legs, grabbing his boxers from the floor and hastily rushing to put them on before he stumbled away to his bathroom to grab some old towels from the laundry basket to wipe himself down with.

The soft light from the living room down the hall made him pause in his tracks and he let his body stop moving to hear the softness of the house shift around him. Stale air with a hint of the stew from earlier whirled around him, and he could feel his nose burn with the scent of pepper that had spilled across the counter in his haste to grab a glass from above the stove still seemed to permeate the hall, even after 4 hours had passed.

He let out a small sigh as he trudged down the hall, feet quiet but squeaky as he placed himself at the mouth of the living room. He felt coldness douse him as the figure of Young Il came into focus. He was reading a book that he had laid out in front of him, and his eyes were shifting from line to line with a small smile of interest.

That was, until Gihun noticed how the book had only just been opened; the mass of the book still squished together on one side. Young Il’s jaw was clenched tight too, just like before. And his form was trembling as his face tilted to look at Gihun in surprise.

Heat flooded his face and Gihun could feel himself shaking under Young Il’s gaze. The other man’s eyes were trailing down his torso, eyes glinting in the darkness of the room, which made the heat from before come flooding back and pooling in Gihun’s stomach.

“Gihun, what are you doing up?” Young Il’s soft voice asked, causing Gihun’s jaw to dangle open uselessly, spluttering as he attempted to come up with an excuse as to why he was half naked and clutching an old towel tight to his chest.

“I ah… couldn’t get to sleep- got-got too hot… I thought I could cool off in here-or-or something-!” Gihun babbled, gesturing towards the porch doors with a frantic movement of his arms.

Young Il turned to look at the doors and then back to him, his back straightening and relaxing back against the cushion of the couch as a soft smile crossed his features, jaw unclenching as he tilted his head in amusement.

“Half-naked? You would catch a cold and risk public indecency to cool off outside right now?”

“Nobody is awake!” Gihun argued in a high-pitched voice, his arms coming up to wrap around his chest to attempt to hide how his skin erupted in goosebumps.

“Okay, okay, I won’t tease you anymore…” Young Il raised his hands in surrender before he laid his hands across his thighs, sighing as he laid his head back and let his neck stretch back, “You know I… I heard you crying out from your room.”

Gihun felt his breathing stop and his voice hitched. Young Il was averting his gaze and Gihun felt mortification drip down to his toes.

“You were really loud… I’m sorry I didn’t come in to help you.” Young Il murmured, tilting his head to finally bring his eyes back to Gihun’s frozen frame.

“H… help m-me?!” Gihun could hardly believe his ears and he nearly dropped to the floor as an inferno rushed up his body again, filling his veins with liquid gold.

“You were having a nightmare, weren’t you?”

Gihun let out a shriek and dropped to the floor; at least his inner self did; his body froze once again and he smiled at Young Il in a stasis of utter bewilderment before he let out a rough cough and laugh.

“Yeah… that was what it was… yep- a horrible, terrible, no-good nightmare..” Gihun muttered out, scratching at the skin of his arms in a rush, leaving white streaks down his arms.

Young Il tilted his head back, eyebrows furrowed deeply in disappointment. He sighed, shaking his head.

“I didn’t want to disrespect your privacy again… I know, hypocritical of me to say, but I figured I should only come to help if you desperately needed it or asked me to help you… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from your nightmare, Gihun.”

Despite the chaos of confusion that had whirled around Gihun enough to get him dizzy, the other man felt the sharp strings holding his muscles tense, cut, letting his body finally melt into the warm atmosphere of the living room.

“That’s okay, Young Il. It… It really wasn’t as bad as it may have seemed.” Gihun announced softly, making Young Il look up with an expression of interest, “I was able to help myself out before I woke up.”

Young Il let a smile settle on his features and he straightened up before he moved his ghostly body across the cushions, a gesture asking Gihun to sit down next to him on the old couch.

Gihun accepted the invitation and let his back sag into the cushions with a sigh, the softness of the pleather welcoming against the skin of his cold back. He could feel the goosebumps settling down enough to let out a sigh of contentment; his chest loosening in the weight of his relief.

“So, what was your nightmare about?” Young Il asked casually, making Gihun tense and choke on air for a moment.

“Oh! I-uh- don’t remember now. But it was a rough one-yep!” Gihun coughed into his fist.

“Would you like me to distract you enough for you to fall asleep? I could read to you, if you like?” Young Il offered with a small grin, his eyes flashing with minor excitement, “It’s a really good start to the book. You came out just in time for me to start reading it!”

Gihun watched the spectre’s form glisten in the softness of the desk lamp’s light and then he nodded his head, almost completely distracted as he let his adoration drift across his face.

“That would be nice… Let me go grab a shirt and blanket; I wanna be cozy if you’re reading to me.”

A flash of pain flit across Young Il’s face as Gihun shifted and pushed himself into a standing position.

“I wish I could feel the warmth of a blanket again…” Young Il murmured, looking out the window with distant eyes; as though he wasn’t talking to Gihun at all.

The man paused in the doorway and sent him a pained smile as the spectre looked back to him with saddened eyes.

“Don’t you worry, Young Il… I’ll break this curse and I’ll shower you in blankets.” Gihun announced, making a startled laugh jump from Young Il’s throat.

A moment later, Gihun was back and jittery with a long sleeve shirt on, some sweatpants, and a large quilted blanket from the closet with patches of purple and blue knitted across it. He collapsed on the couch cushions and grinned as he wrapped the blanket high around his shoulders and scooched as close to Young Il’s form as he could. The book was open on the table in front of them and tilted against an old coffee cup so that Gihun could read the pages if he so desired.

The smell of old and dusty books made Gihun yawn loudly, causing Young Il to snort.

“Don’t fall asleep yet! I haven’t even started reading!” Young Il pushed, waving a cold hand in front of Gihun’s face, where his eyes were already drooping. A calm and sudden tiredness washed over him, soft as a wave during the summer and he could feel himself melting down into the couch as his body prickled and trembled into relaxation at the presence of the ghost next to him.

“It’s cause you’re so comforting, Young Il… I can’t help it.” Gihun murmured, closing his eyes lazily, “Hurry! You should start reading.”

Young Il felt a sudden pulse of heat in his torso and he stuttered where he was. Gihun couldn’t feel it since his body was transparent to him, but it felt like an orange glow lit in his chest and started to spread across his icy, frigid system.

“...Okay, Gihun.” He whispered as he watched the human nuzzle his head closer to where he could lay his head on Young Il’s shoulder, a smile drifting across his features as he melted into the warmth of the couch, the light, and his mother’s quilt.

Gihun let out a breathy and tired laugh, causing the other man to look at him once more, chest squeezing at the sight of the sleepy grin.

“Young Il… You would look… so handsome with glasses on… did you know that?” His deep timbered voice asked as he let out another sigh and closed his eyes with a quiet snuffle.

A bout of yearning filled his lungs and Young Il, even though he was dead, felt like the air stopped moving as he focused on the man beside him. The desire to delve into that warmth, be wrapped in that same blanket with him to inhale his scent and marry it to his nostrils, to wrap his arms, real arms, around his torso as they curled into and around each other; god, his brain was picturing it now.

Gihun’s sleepy smile as his lips pursed and pressed against his forehead, murmuring sweet nothings into his hair as the two lounged and fell against the couch cushions; content with sleeping anywhere as long as the two were wrapped around each other.

Young Il would bury his face into Gihun’s neck, kissing and lightly sucking at the skin of it to feel the hot dampness filling his nose and mouth, taste the tang of an overworked and underpaid man on his tongue, and to feel the embodiment of unconditional love encased in his arms, pulling him so close that their chests would press together, their legs would tangle and he would feel the steady thump… thump… thump… of his heartbeat matching his own.

The other man would snuffle and let out soft groans and whines in his sleep, which Young Il would soothe by dragging his fingers into his hair and down his neck and shoulders, rubbing and cooing into his ear, which would tickle the other man’s skin enough for his eyes to open just barely, enough to see Young Il wrapped around him… and he would smile softly, leaning his head down just a bit to then purse his lips as Young Il eagerly went to meet him with his own.

The pulse of orange grew into a burst of yellow and white hot heat in his chest and he quickly turned his head away from the sleepy man that was leaning towards the spectre, but would never be close enough to feel the weight of the ghost’s shoulder underneath his head.

“Okay, Gihun… Here I go.” Young Il whispered as he also attempted to lean forward, his chest sparking with a pain he was startled to ever feel again as he watched his transparent hand attempt to hold the human’s warm one. “I’ll start where I left off…”

His hand jolted away with a jolt of pain as ringing filled his ears; the necklace wrapped around Gihun’s neck trembled like an angry cat, hissing as the ghost tried to get near.

He would never be able to feel that warmth against his own.

“ He had passed visibly through two states and was entering upon a third…After his embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed with wonder at her presence. He had been full of the idea for…so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. ” Young Il clenched his jaw as the other man finally let out a soft snore.

“ There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams — not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything… No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart. ”

It shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have if Gihun had paid attention to himself for once. He was already aware that his hair was growing longer every month he neglected to look at himself in the mirror. Young Il teased him about his hair, telling him it looked good when Gihun would pout and twirl his hair in his fingers in sudden concern.

But it was a month later when it really had grown down to his shoulders. He rushed through the oddly cold September rain, water splashing his jeans and sticking the heavy duty fabric to his skin, making him grimace as he rushed up the steps towards his apartment.

When he entered, throwing his coat off with a heavy THWAP on the floor, he shook out his arms and ran his fingers through his bangs, scruffing the hair back and forth to rid himself of the wetness clinging to his skin.

“Wow, if I didn’t know any better I would have thought you were a stray dog.” Came the dry and sarcastic voice of Young Il, carried with a hint of amusement.

As Gihun looked up, sure enough, Young Il was placed against the wall, leaning against it with a lazy smirk pulled across his face. His eyes were wide with mirth and Gihun stuck his tongue out at him as a retort.

“Careful, you keep that tongue out, I’ll really think you’re a dog.”

Gihun rolled his eyes.

“I missed the last connection bus and I didn’t want to wait for the sun to set for the next bus so, I decided to walk home but it started raining.” Gihun explained as he pulled at the edges of his sleeves uncomfortably, kicking at the back of his shoes sloppily.

“You don’t need to explain, I get it.” Young Il raised his hands, laughing a little more freely now, “You go on and take a shower, I’m going to finish making Samgyeopsal. What luck that I made it on a rainy day, huh?”

“I’ll say.” Gihun responded with a sigh, leaning down and picking off his wet shoes with a scowl before he righted himself and shuffled down the hallway, leaning into his bedroom to steal the towel off his dresser before bringing himself into the shower.

As he showered, he sighed heavily as the hot water and steam chased the chill of the rain water away, and he shivered as the goosebumps that littered his skin started to melt away as heat engulfed him. 

He closed his eyes, raking his hands through his hair with the shampoo that Young Il urged him to try a couple months ago, making his hair bouncier and shinier with a soft scent to match.

The suds washed down his back, tickling him in the process as he hid himself under the stream of water for a bit longer.

Suddenly, as he got down to the lowest section of his hair, he felt a sharp tug on a chunk of his hair, pulling at his hair uncomfortably. He gasped as he tried to pull it once again, and the force of his pulling brought the iron chain around his neck up and then back down with a dull thud.

He scoffed, feigning to finish his shower without touching his hair in the meantime, scowling at the new uncomfortable feeling from the heavy tug on his scalp.

As he finally turned the water off, he tripped out of the tub and settled himself at the mirror, glaring at the chunk of hair that decided to tangle itself in the necklace as though it had a mind of its own.

“I don’t wanna cut it out…” Gihun murmured to himself, leaning forward as he observed just how much hair he would end up having to cut. He pictured the look of disappointment that would surely curse Young Il’s face and shook his head vehemently.

“I’m sure it doesn’t have to come to that anyways,” Gihun reasoned, shaking his head with a sharp inhale as the necklace was moved with his movements.

Instead, he raised his hands and started pulling gently at the chain, rubbing his fingers through the knot with his tongue sticking out as he tugged at the looser strands of hair.

It was no such luck, the knot stayed firmly in place and the more he tugged at it, the more tangled it seemed to become, making Gihun start to lose his patience.

Finally, he decided to pull insistently at the tangle, growling under his breath… until it snapped. It sounded like coins falling as the metal shards plopped one by one into the sink basin, and it felt like the entire world was suddenly void of sound.

Gihun watched the sink in sudden disbelief, his mouth dangling open in shock as his hands stilled in his hair.

He felt silence buzz along his skin, and even though the light was on and the fan was still blowing air from outside into the room to dissipate the steam, it felt like the only room that was capable of sound anymore.

His safety was gone, broken to pieces and laying there in the sink. His breath was bated, and he felt coldness wrap itself around his spine; it was a foreboding chill.

However, he let out a soft exhale, gripping the necklace in his hands as he slowly filtered them into his sweatpants pocket with a quiet clinking releasing into the air of the bathroom. He was sure that nothing bad would come of his necklace having broken.

After all, weren’t he and Young Il quite close to each other now?

However, it wasn’t until he stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway did he notice how quiet everything was suddenly. He could only pick up his breathing, the shifting of his clothing as he walked slower and slower as he approached the kitchen, and the slight shifting of his feet as they slid against the cool wood floor.

He paused and peeked his head into the kitchen and noticed a pot on the stove, burbling and steaming, but Young Il was nowhere to be seen. This was perturbing, and Gihun let out a shaky exhale as he started to make his way to his room. Nowhere in any corner did Young Il’s shadow appear, making Gihun’s heart thunder torturously. His hands were shaking as they closed around the handle of his bedroom door, making the metal click together shatteringly, disrupting the quiet as his door swung into the wall next to him.

There, he saw Young Il’s cloudy yet transparent form, but he was seated facing away from him, looking out his window at the rain as it pelted against the glass, illuminated by the street lamps from outside.

He was silent as Gihun slowly made his way into the room.

“Young Il, is everything okay?” Gihun chuckled nervously, attempting to break the odd silence.

His form turned his head with an expression Gihun could remember from his first time meeting him, and it drilled into his spine, a tendril of intense and very real fear; it was completely emotionless.

His bedroom door had swung closed, but Gihun had backed against it, trembling as Young Il’s eyes wandered down to his pocket. His eyebrows furrowed and smoothened again as his form stood from the bed, rounding the corner to start approaching the now trembling man.

“Young Il, please…” Gihun whimpered out, raising his hands in surrender as he pressed his slick back to the wood, shaking his head frantically, “Please Young Il, I was so close to fixing this curse on you.”

“Gihun, I’m sorry, but it's’ time.” His voice announced, making Gihun let out a hiccuped sob as tears quickly filled his frightened eyes.

“Young Il… Young Il please don’t do this!” Gihun pleaded, his knees trembling as his weight fell backwards to fully push himself into the grain of the wooden door, letting out a whimper of broken terror as Young Il’s form stopped right in front of him.

His form seemed more solid now, his milky hand reaching towards Gihun’s neck as the man writhed against the door with nowhere to run. It suddenly became silent as the two watched each other, one with his chest tight with air he refused to exhale, and the other with a hand curled delicately around the skin of his neck, their eyes interlocked in an intense battle of emotions that neither of them could name.

“Gihun,” The man sounded breathless in the sudden stillness and quiet that surrounded the two in the gravity of this moment, “You know there is more than one way to steal someone’s breath away… right?”

Gihun barely had a moment to suck in his last exhale, shutting his eyes tightly as he prepared for the immense shock of pain wrapping around his neck, his heart thudded painfully in his chest.

But he was met with a sudden burst of warmth; it was exhaled like a sigh against the skin of his face, moist on his trembling lips as they parted in sudden shock.

“You really are my lucky Mr. 456, aren’t you, Seong Gihun?” the soft and husky voice of Young Il rumbled against his chest.

As Gihun opened his eyes, it felt like slow motion as Young Il’s eyes crinkled, closed, and came forward as the color of Young Il’s skin and hair came into full fruition. And suddenly, heat crushed against his lips, slick, pink, and slightly chapped, making Gihun jolt against the wall.

The lips were harsh, desperate, painful as they pressed against his teeth, but Gihun couldn’t help but let out a shocked whimper and sigh as he felt his eyes magnetize shut as the warmth of the monster’s body wrapped around him, pushing his mouth just as desperately onto his, both letting out deep groans of satisfaction that rattled through their tense bodies.

Strong arms wrapped around his midsection, hands hot, rough fingertips pressed deeply into the muscles of his shoulders and searching as they traced down his back, pulling him in so tightly that Gihun could feel the creases of Young Il’s clothes pressing into his skin.

Every fingertip left a trail of flames in their path and Gihun couldn’t help but let out soft sounds of pleasure as his abdomen ignited with a sharp pull of heat and want. He lifted and wrapped his shaking arms around Young Il’s neck as tightly as he could, desperate to feel the heat of him against his trembling form.

The other man’s tongue pressed down on the skin of his bottom lip and then dragged across it lavisciously, a hot exhale of breath that Gihun opened his mouth to taste before his mouth was occupied with the tongue he’s been dreaming of having on him and in him for the last 2 months of living together.

Young Il let out a groan of pleasure, sighing as he pulled back to take a sudden breath, panting as his hands traced up the skin of his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Oh, I just knew you would taste so good, Gihun,” He murmured desperately before he dove back in, slamming the two of them against the wall once again with a sudden jolt; preventing Gihun from taking a breath.

Finally, oh, fuck, finally…

Their tongues tangled and the both of them let out a long moan at the feeling of the slick heat wrapped together, pressed together as they explored untouched territory. Gihun tangled his hands into Young Il’s dishevelled hair pulling at the strands as he begged with a flick of his tongue for Young Il to keep kissing him. To not stop touching him. To trace his body with the reverence of a lover. To press in harder until neither could know where one started and the other began.

The other man was huffing out Gihun’s name with every press of his lips, hoarse, wanting, longingly, Gihun, Gihun, oh, Gihun … 

His hands dipped beneath his waistband, making Gihun startle and clench his fists into the fabric of his shirt with a soft sound of surprise. His head was starting to feel light, and he could feel his chest start to expand in sudden sharp pain.

“Young Il-!” He tried to get out hoarsely as he wrenched his head away to breathe, but before he could inhale, the other man shot his hands up to his head and dragged him back to his lips, crashing them together in a whirlwind of heat and slick, wet desire.

Their tongues tangled once more, making Gihun whine pitifully into Young Il’s mouth, eyes screwed shut and quickly filling with tears from the lack of air reaching his lungs. He gripped at Young Il’s neck and shoulders hopelessly pulling at the fabric of Young Il’s jacket, but to no avail.

The man was practically completely intertwined with his body, letting out low groans of pleasure at each of Gihun’s whimpers and moans as the two felt each other up as much as they dared to. After a while, Gihun’s hands went slack, instead fisting the fabric and holding the back of Young Il’s head as the kiss slowed down into one of low simmering, carnal passion. The two were completely engulfed in one another, and the spark of arousal in Gihun’s belly had swarmed him, prickling, present, and oh so tempting as the inferno of the other man’s body heat pressed against him, excitement quite obvious in him too.

Finally, as Gihun pulled away when the lack of air had finally made the edges of his vision turn black and blurry, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as saliva clung between the two of them desperately, eyes flooded with tears as his knees buckled under the weight of his lungs, crumpling to the floor, he watched as Young Il’s blurred soft smile appeared in front of him once again.

“I told you I would steal your breath, Mr. 456…” His eyes were filled with tears and streaming down his cheeks and before Gihun could let out any noise of shock…

everything went black.

It started with an ache in his legs… his calves were tense with striking pain shooting up his legs. Next it was his arms, which he could now feel crossed and pressed tightly against his torso uncomfortably, pressed against bone and muscles that were making way for the weight of them.

He tried to wriggle his hands free and as soon as he started to move, he felt tiredness wash over him, making him yawn and let out a soft and muffled groan. When he could finally feel the rest of his body tingling as blood rushed through his veins from his sudden bodily awareness, he cracked his eyes open.

He was shocked to find the grain of wood so close to his eyes, cracked, rigid, dry, and oh, so cold. He stared at it for a minute before he attempted to adjust himself. His head started aching as soon as he lifted it off the ground, and he winced as his muscles strained against his tepid movement. But as soon as he placed his palms on the floor and pushed the upper half of his body up from the floor, he finally recognized where he was.

He was still half naked, his torso cold to the touch, skin pebbled and shivering, and his towel had slipped onto the floor. He had been laying next to the pasty wall and he turned to look at the door and felt a sudden rush of blood meet his face as his memory caught up with him during his daze.

The memory of heated, filthy, and obscene breaths and moans, desperate, hot hands, and lips that starved for just a taste, one more… taste.

He jolted from the floor with a shout of fear as he scrambled to the bedroom door, throwing it open and into the wall beside him as he stormed through the apartment.

“YOUNG IL?” his voice cracked into a high pitched whimper, “YOUNG IL, PLEASE WHERE ARE YOU?!” His heart was thudding painfully beneath his ribs; he felt like he was suffocating again. There was a lump in his throat as he continued to search his apartment.

He turned on every light he had, illuminating every dark corner of his apartment, but regardless of how many lights he had flicked on and every corner of the room he searched, the white eyes he had become endeared with never appeared.

He rushed to the kitchen and found that the Samgyeopsal that he distinctly remembered Young Il making was nowhere to be found. The pot was gone, the coils of the oven were stone cold, and not one piece of cutlery was out of place. 

Gihun felt himself shaking as he threw open his fridge, looking desperately for the post it notes he could just imagine Young Il writing down on the kitchen table, a stupid grin plastered across his face as he wrapped the groceries he told Gihun to buy with his name and a reminder for Gihun not to eat them before he could cook him a “real meal”.

Just like before, the post notes were missing, completely and had utterly vanished. He started to hyperventilate as he stumbled backwards from the fridge, the groceries were gone too. 

It was like Young Il had never existed.

He felt tears prickle in his eyes, sharp, heavy, painful as he tripped into the living room. His blankets were folded over the back of the couch rather than rumpled from where he had tried to and failed to cover Young Il’s transparent form, both of them laughing heavily as Gihun tried to pull the blankets over his lap once more.

“ I told you I wasn’t cold, Gihun.” He had chuckled with a soft smile that he had reserved for the quieter moments between them.

The mug that Gihun had mistakenly filled with coffee for Young Il that morning was also gone, not even the ring of the glass remained on the painted wood of the table.

The book that he had noticed Young Il glancing at and then picking up to read, eyes squinted and narrowed, muttering under his breath at every plot twist and his mouth dropping in shock as he reached the climax of the book; it was back on the shelf and the doodled bookmark that Gihun had made for him out of a crumpled receipt with a smiley face written in sharpie was gone as well.

He stumbled backwards and drew his hand down his face, his chest heaving for air and he began to cry, softly, then louder and louder.

Soon, he was wailing, he went through the apartment once again, and then again, and one more time- now desperate to find a glimpse of the spirit that once walked with him, side by side.

“YOUNG IL, THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” He hiccuped, his hands slamming into the doors and knocking his belongings onto the floor as he ached for the phantom touch of his friend… His partner… his… what?

He then collapsed onto his bed, sheets and blankets shed haphazardly on the ground, but now he just crossed his legs and buried his face into his hands, now his chest felt empty, a deep gravity of pain dragging him down, further and further into the cotton of the mattress.

Helplessness flooded his veins and he choked on every yearning sob that ripped through his skin.

“Young Il! Young Il, please! Young Il… Come back to me… don’t leave me here like this…” But as much as Gihun pleaded into his hands, his body shaking with despair, it was all empty air, and this time, the air had no response.

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