Chapter Text
The next morning, Seungcheol awakens to find himself entwined with Jeonghan like a child, legs tangled, pillows and comforters in disarray around them. Jeonghans hair, black and fragrant, tickles just under Seungcheols lips, even breathing on his bare chest. The rain is thundering on, hard as ever, but the wind is calm as gray light peeps through the windows. Jeonghans body is warm and soft, it tucks against his own neatly. His hand is smushed between their bodies, fingers resting against Seuncheols bandaged pectoral. There’s a sense of familiarity. Seungcheol allows himself a few minutes of warmth, of calm, of Jeonghan. His arm that somehow found its way under Jeonghans head, wraps around his shoulder, pulls him closer. His gaze flits to his side table, where the talisman is shining in a ray of morning light.
Footsteps in the hall perk his ears. Jeonghan hums and snuggles closer into his chest, hair tickling Seungcheols nose. The scent of him is addictive. Seungcheol closes his eyes, lets the sound of the rain and wind lull him back to sleep.
Drip, drip, drip.
When Seungcheol awakens again, he finds water dripping from the ceiling in the hall just outside the room. He is lying on his back now, arms and legs sprawled out. Jeonghan has turned to face away from him, but his back is glued to Seungcheols side, his head is rested on Seungcheols arm.
“Shit.” He mumbles, yawns.
Drip, drip, drip.
It's rare but not completely uncommon. It is an old hanok. And despite its almost fortress-like strength, it requires occasional maintenance. But in these rural areas, a contractor is hard to come by so Seungcheol has learned a few tricks.
He carefully untangles himself from Jeonghan. Sits at the edge of the bed with a sigh and rubs his face. He runs a hand over his bandaged shoulder, eyes drifting up to where the water is splashing on the floor. There's a rustling of bedsheets behind him.
“Hm?”
Seungcheol suddenly flushes, realizes the situation, their proximity, the fact that he doesn’t have a shirt on.
“Morning.” He tries to sound normal and turns to look back at him.
“Morning.” Jeonghan stretches.
He’s gorgeous, he's lovely. Seungcheols eyes go to the sliver of exposed stomach under his shirt. In the back of his head, he faintly hears Jeonghans screams from yesterday. He shakes his head to get rid of the thought and stands up.
“There’s a leak. Nothing crazy.” He tells him. “Won’t take long to fix.”
Jeonghans eyes follow him and then flit to the water dripping outside.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” Jeonghan teases after a lame breakfast of eggs and nori as he holds the ladder steady for Seungcheol.
Seungcheol sits atop, a can of drywall mud precariously held between his thighs. He reaches up, smoothing down white paste above him, grimacing at the stress it's putting on his shoulder.
“I can’t cook.”
Jeonghan chuckles.
“Dealbreaker.”
Seungcheol smiles absently as he checks his work, taps on the wall around where he's smeared joint compound. He looks down to where Jeonghan is resting his head against the ladder, gazing up at him. It makes him breathless.
“This should hold it for now.” He tears his eyes away and back to the ceiling. “When the rain lets up, I’ll have to check on the roof.”
There's a faint shuffle of footsteps down the hall that makes Jeonghan perk up. Seungcheol climbs down the ladder, peels off his gloves silently. Jeonghan is still staring down the hall, one hand on the ladder. Seungcheol rests his own hand atop. That breaks Jeonghans trance.
He looks at Seungcheol, eyes wild and wide, waiting for him to say something.
“Let’s head out to look for Halmoni.”
Once again cocooned in Seungcheols unending collection of rain jackets, they set out. First to Mingyu and Wonwoo. It's always better to have more boots on the ground.
But once again, it seems Seungcheols friends are not home.
Jeonghan echoes the sentiment out loud.
“There’s only so many places to go in this town in the middle of a storm.” Seungcheol stares up at the entrance to the mart.
Footsteps on the pavement make them both jump and turn. Seungcheol expects it to be Mingyu or Wonwoo, perhaps on their way back from the inn, chiding him for being out in this weather. But only an empty street looks back, shiny and black, streams of rain run down its length. Seungcheols heartbeat picks up, body sensing some sort of danger. More footsteps but no owner. Seungcheol squints in the static as Jeonghan leaves his side, trying to find the source of the footsteps, looking around cautiously. Seungcheol tuts and turns back, peering into the window of the shop only to find two eyes staring back at him.
Just barely, through a gap between the blinds, he is able to make out Mingyu’s face through the dirty screen. He looks 10 years younger, pale and gaunt. His eyes are blown wide, the whites apparent all around his pupils. He’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he wandered into the forest all those years ago.
“Kim Mingyu…” The name has barely left his lips when Jeonghan gasps behind him and grabs his arm. He’s being tugged back in the other direction.
He finds himself unable to look away from Mingyu. Or this thing that seems to have taken on the shape of his dear friend from years ago. A shriek pierces through the wind, jerking him awake, and Seungcheol turns and breaks into a run. Jeonghan is beside him, face has lost all color.
Seungcheol turns back to see if they are being followed, only to find the asphalt streets, rain coming down in buckets, fog obscuring the way. Somehow that sets more warning signs off in his head. Slipping and tripping in puddles, fighting against angry wind, they reach the edge of the village, heaving as they maneuver the hilly main street. Seungcheol breathes hard gazes up at the jangseung in the distance standing 10 feet tall like a guardian, as it stands proud next to the sign for the village.
He turns to Jeonghan who is also breathing hard, eyes downcast. They have clasped hands together, knuckles white. Seungcheol bites his lip, feels some sort of impending doom descending on them. He starts hearing Jeonghans screams in his head again, blaring like a siren. A tickle of pain in his injury makes itself known. He unconsciously grips his shoulder, shakes his head as if that’ll help, trying to decide what to do.
“That wasn’t just me, right?” Jeonghan speaks up. “That was weird, right?”
Seungcheol doesn’t reply. Jeonghan touches his shoulder.
“Seungcheol?”
“If we go left from here, it’s a shortcut to Halmonis.” Seungcheol says, opting to look at his chest instead.
Jeonghan turns his head to see where the forest is encircling the edge of the village. Follow the border and you’d also reach the back of the hanok.
They begin to walk hesitantly. Jeonghan is biting his lip, on the verge of saying something. Seungcheol keeps trying to piece it together, the strange words in that book, Mingyus stare not leaving his mind. Was that even real or did he imagine it? Jeonghan's hand is cold in his grip, and his wails of pain are slowly fading away in Seungcheols mind. He shoves their entwined hands in his pocket, just to keep warm. It causes Jeonghan to lightly bump shoulders with him. Seungcheol allows himself a glance, an admiration of Jeonghans beauty, the pink on his cheeks, just to steel himself that he really is okay, that he was never hurt, before focusing on the entity in front of him.
The forest looms like another dimension over them as they get closer, almost pulsing like a living thing. Seungcheol can count on both hands how many people, pets, items, have been lost to these woods. The rain is calmer but the wind is trying to push them away. Jeonghan grabs a long stick off the ground, starts using it as a cane when the terrain becomes too unpredictable.
They're only about a few yards in when Seungcheols shoulder suddenly feels like it's been lit on fire. He has to grit his teeth, try not to pant as he leads the way through the path. Eyes flitting among the trees, trying to see through static rain, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of a ghost to convince himself he’s really crazy. His vision is dulling, black spots appearing with every throb of his shoulder.
Jeonghan is saying something next to him, he sounds far away.
He debates telling Jeonghan what he saw in that room upstairs, the book he found. Maybe it could explain some of the happenings around them. His pain doesn’t let him focus on anything for too long. He realizes he is badly dissociating when Jeonghan grabs his arm to get his attention. His brow is creased as he looks at Seungcheol, grip only tightening when he sees his expression.
“Are you okay?” He asks, having to shout over the wind and rain.
Seungcheol nods, trying to seem nonchalant but he’s breaking into a sweat and the pain is coming in waves. Jeonghan lets go, unconvinced. The wind is making him stumble, the rain is pushing down on him from above, the ground is viscous and the water is up to their ankles. Jeonghan is stumbling himself, prosthetic is unevenly sinking into soft mud, hands are slipping against wet leaves, and that stick is proving to be more trouble than it's worth. Gusts of cold wind are blowing in their faces, rain hitting their cheeks like needles trying to push them back. It feels like no matter how hard they try, something is trying to prevent them from trekking through this forest. Another throb in the shoulder and an involuntary groan comes out of Seungcheol as he leans against a tree.
Jeonghan rushes to his side.
“Is it your shoulder?” He grabs his arm, breathing hard.
“Y-yes.” Seungcheol wheezes out, one breath, two breaths, three breaths. “But I’m okay..”
He continues forward.
Jeonghan has opted to stick closer to him, is watching him like a hawk, lips pressed into a tight line. In the distance, Seungcheol convinces himself he sees something, mistakes the black spots in his vision as spirits, tries to collect evidence that he’s losing it. Because that would be easier. It would be easier to blame these ghosts on the fact that he might be losing it as opposed to something real and tangible that could hurt them. Tall red polls come into view. The wind rushes at him like a punch and the rain is coming down like gold. Seungcheol allows himself to collapse when they eventually reach the Wind Shrine.
Jeonghan is by his side in an instant. Seungcheol tries to find purchase in the water, dirtying his knees, clutching his shoulder like he’s trying to rip it off. He has to close his eyes, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, spit drooling down his chin. Never in his life, since that night he hurt his shoulder, that night Hansol dangled off the edge of the cliff, grasping onto Seungcheols arm like a desperate child, has he felt this kind of pain. Jeonghan is saying his name, voice is a thousand miles away, is grabbing his other arm, is trying to get him upright, is dragging him toward the Wind Shrine. They make it up the steps before Seungcheol fully succumbs, lets out a deep guttural wail, curled on himself underneath the window of the shrine.
Jeonghan is on his knees by his side, lays a gentle hand over where Seungcheol is clutching his shoulder. Jeonghans fingers then go to the spot, once again finding it with ease even with layers of clothing and bandage in the way. Minutes pass, the pain dulls, Seungcheol is finally able to open his eyes, lungs forcing dull small breaths, in and out, in and out, inhale and exhale, like an injured bird. His eyes blankly focus on the window of the shrine, where he has pleaded before, where he has routinely come for refuge, for solace. A dark abyss looks back.
His whole body is cold and movement is difficult but he shifts to look up at Jeonghan who is trembling above him, eyes glowing red. Seungcheol has to blink, has to swear, has to look at him again to see his face has gone back to normal. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe.
“You okay?” Jeonghan asks, his own voice quivering.
Seungcheol nods as beads of sweat come down his forehead. The rain is loud, the wind is coming in inhales and exhales. Jeonghan helps him sit up, brings a bottle of water to his lips with quivering hands, droplets trickle down his chin and throat as he tries to sip. They shuffle against the wall, close to each other, knees and arms touching.
“I think I’m going crazy, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol finally admits, staring into the dark window of the shrine.
Jeonghan looks at him.
“I keep seeing things.” Seungcheol continues, trembling through muted pain. “And when I was locked in that room, I heard you screaming.”
“Screaming?” Jeonghan hands clasp Seungcheols. His hands are freezing.
“Like you were b-being hurt.” An understatement.
“Are you…is this like, are you being serious right now?” He lets out a nervous laugh.
Seungcheol looks at him, maybe a little mad, a little sulky. Jeonghans little smile fades.
“It’s not a joke.”
He gulps once Seungcheol doesn’t let up.
“No I wasn’t….I wasn’t hurt- I just- I panicked because the door and- you weren’t saying anything, I thought you got hurt-”
“It keeps blaring in my head.” Seungcheol closes his eyes, eyebrows knitting. “Like you were being tortured.”
It echoes in his head like a nightmare. While ghosts and mysteries are not necessarily foreign to him, something of that caliber? He keeps trying to vainly convince himself that he’s imagining all of it.
“I- I was okay-” Jeonghan hesitates, hands running up and down Seungcheols arm. “I’m tougher than I look.”
There’s a layer of tease in his voice.
“I’m just an amputee-” He fades out when Seungcheol doesn’t even crack a smile. “It’s not like I’m made of glass.”
Seungcheol sits up.
“No, no-no that’s not what this is-” He turns to him. “That's not what this is, Jeonghan. It sounded like someone was killing you.”
Jeonghan blinks, lips press into a thin line as he looks down.
“You shouldn’t worry about me, Seungcheol.” Jeonghan is so close to him, the scent of him is overwhelming, sweet like jasmine, soft soil and rain on foliage, windy clouds. Like he is the entire world condensed into one person. “I’m tougher than I look. So you shouldn’t worry about me.”
Not everything that moves, breathes, and talks is alive.
“So I just have to sit there and listen to you scream like that?” He doesn’t mean to sound angry, doesn’t understand why he is. Maybe the anger makes it too real? Makes it hopeless? Or maybe Jeonghan just thinks he’s insane now. He can’t decide.
“No.” Jeonghan looks at him, eyebrows knitting. “No, that’s not what I mean.”
He blinks rapidly, licking his lips, eyes dragging over Seungcheols face. Seungcheol lets the anger seep out of him. He doesn’t want to see Jeonghan upset like this. His anger is beside the point anyway.
“What do you mean then?” Seungcheol invites.
Jeonghans lips wobble as he turns his head to face forward. Seungcheol, for his own sanity, needs to know.
“Tell me.”
A deep sigh.
“Halmoni used to warn me.” He admits, hanging his head. “About ghosts. Spirits and stuff. That was part of the reason I avoided the village. She said if I became too close with anyone, something terrible would happen.”
Seungcheol feels something in his chest sinking. Like he’s drowning. He doesn’t reply.
“But then-“ Jeonghans voice catches before he swallows hard. “When she-…I didn’t know what else to do. I came to you for help when she died-“ A frustrated sob. “Because you’ve always- you’re the only one who has ever come all the way into the woods to see me. Kept me company. Worried about m-me. Cared about me.”
Seungcheol rests his head back and stares at the ceiling of the shrine. It’s faded and chipped. A mural of Princess Bari holding the flower of resurrection. She stares back at him proudly.
“So I thought it would be okay.” Jeonghan sniffs, hands still gripping Seungcheols. “But then the room upstairs and just now in the street. It scares the shit out of me.” Jeonghans voice is wet as he swallows back his tears. “I just…I don’t know what to think.”
“I found a book in that room.” Seungcheol says quietly. “Or maybe it was a diary or something.”
Jeonghan raises his head and looks at him. Seungcheol feels the wind get knocked out of him as he marvels at his beauty. Never in his life has he met anyone like this. Someone so otherworldly. It makes him almost forget what he was going to say.
“It was so old, I could barely understand it.” Seungcheol hesitates, doesn’t know how to explain the rest of his thoughts. “But whoever wrote it…they were distraught. Angry, sad, I don’t know. It was weird.”
Jeonghans lip part curiously.
“And I feel like it might have something to do with all this.”
“Should we look for it when we get back?”
Seungcheol pants, the pain finally becoming bearable.
“Let's find Halmoni first. And then-“ He goes to stand up and offers a hand to Jeonghan. “And we’ll worry about the rest later.”
When they eventually make it to the clearing where the hut had been, they find it has vanished, along with the tree that Seungcheol had seen collapsed that night. Jeonghan, at first stands jarred, hands clenched into fists as he scans the clearing. The red talisman that Seungcheol had found dangling from a tree branch is now lazily floating in flood water. Jeonghan goes to it and picks it up, wiping it clean with his sleeve. He turns to Seungcheol who is leaning against a tree, exhausted. He shines like silver amidst the foliage, blurred out like an apparition by the rain coming down on them.
“I’m sorry for making you come all this way for nothing.” He sighs. “I just… I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it. I’m sorry. This is my fault.”
Seungcheol shakes his head, feels a tug in his chest at Jeonghans distress.
“No. No, don’t apologize.” He straightens up and comes to him.
Jeonghan breaks into an angry sob. Seungcheol pulls him into his arms.
“Sorry, I’m- I’m so sorry.” Jeonghan keeps repeating. “It’s all my f-fault, Seungcheol. All of this.”
Seungcheol pulls him close, mumbles consolations and reassurances. His eyes stay on the misshapen figure gawking at them from behind a tree trunk a few feet away.
And then he hears a sound in the distance, howling wind, rustling through leaves, the creak of tree roots uprooting. He looks up behind him, see’s the camphor behind them begin to sway. He gasps, clutching Jeonghan and diving out of its way, landing painfully on his bad shoulder.
It comes down with a moan, long and heavy as it crashes in the mud, splashing the floodwater everywhere, just barely missing them. Jeonghan cries out.
Seungcheol looks up from where he and Jeonghan have tumbled, breathing hard. The figure that was standing in the foliage has disappeared. The upended tree in front of him is huge, the full length of it goes across the clearing. He looks down to where Jeonghan is trembling in his hold, clutching his thigh. That could have killed them.
He straightens up, still cradling him in his arms. His prosthetic has detached, crushed under the tree and he has twisted the ankle of his other foot.
“Shit…” He hisses, looking down at it. “I’ve really done it now, Seungcheol.”
“Here. Come here.” Seungcheol wipes the rain and mud off his face, reaches out to his ankle as Jeonghan shivers in the cold wind. “Let me see.”
Jeonghan shifts and sits up, wet hair sticking to his face. Seungcheol gently slides his boot off- that alone makes him wince in pain. He slowly rotates his ankle around. Jeonghan bites his lip, hands balled into fists as he squeezes his eyes shut.
Seungcheol looks at him. The rain has started coming down harder. It's going to get dark soon. They’re stranded in the woods and not a soul knows.
“It’s not broken. I can still move it.” Jeonghan tries to reassure him when they meet eyes, hastily putting weight on the foot to stand.
He gasps and falls back on his butt into the water and mud, heaving. Seungcheol grimaces, heart sinking as Jeonghan moans softly, lower lip quivering.
“I’ll carry you.”
Jeonghan starts to shake his head.
“N-no, your shoulder-“ He reasons. “You’re in pain-“
Seungcheol doesn’t listen, just turns around and pulls Jeonghan onto his back. He protests with a yelp, ultimately wrapping his arms around Seungcheols shoulders, thighs coming around his waist as he is hoisted up. He is surprisingly light. And having only one leg must shave a few pounds off a person's total weight.
Seungcheol takes a few steadying breaths, grits through the blackout throb of his shoulder. He’s strong, he knows he is. He should be able to pick him up like this no problem, but it feels like something is sapping the life out of him. Jeonghans breath is soft on his ear, wind is harsh on his face. He takes a hesitant step forward, boots splashing in floodwater, legs feeling like jelly.
“We’ll-“ He forces out. “We’ll order another prosthetic from the city. We’ll figure it out.”
He’s so lightheaded he doesn’t hear Jeonghans response. And maybe it’s dots of black and white peppering his vision, maybe his own exhaustion, maybe the bullshit that’s been happening for the past two days, but he starts to see it again. That vaguely shaped being, watching him carefully from behind the refuge of a tree. It skips forward, jumping from tree to tree as he shakily makes his way forward.
He closes his eyes, pausing to breathe, to will away this thing. Not when Jeonghan is with him. Jeonghans safety is his priority. This thing can haunt him all it wants but not Jeonghan.
“Seungcheol?” Jeonghans voice is small. “It’s okay. You don’t have to carry me.”
“Are you nuts?” His response is rougher than he wants it to be as he opens his eyes. “And leave you here?”
It’s starting to get dark.
He feels Jeonghan squirm behind him. Seungcheol starts moving again, running his mouth just to have something else to do besides lose his mind. They need to at least make it out of the thick of it before nightfall.
“I thought you liked it, that I care about you.” He says. “I thought we were f-friends…” He hesitates. “Or at least that we were close.”
“I’ve been a burden on you ever since I came that first night.” Jeonghans voice is barely a whisper, Seungcheol can barely hear it over the howling wind. “All this stuff started happening when I showed up.”
“That’s-“
“Halmoni was right.” A bitter mumble. “I should have kept to myself, I shouldn’t have gotten close with you-“
Seungcheol huffs, trying not to look at the ghost dancing around them, throbbing injury not letting him focus. And Jeonghan is pissing him off with this. Talking like he regrets meeting Seungcheol. Like he caused all this.
“She was wrong.” He cuts in, stomping through the precarious path. “I’m glad we met and I’m glad we got close and I’m glad you came to me for help.”
“But look at us!” Jeonghan snaps. “I insisted on coming here and look at where that got us!”
“So what?!” Seungcheol barks. “I was more than ready to bring you here! I trekked through this shithole forest by myself in the middle of the night for you! I could’ve said no; but did I? No, because I wanted to do it for you. Because I care about you!”
“Well, why?” Jeonghans grip on his shoulders tightens, it sends a sting down Seungcheols back. “Why do you care about me so much? I’ve done nothing but cause trouble!”
“Because I like you, you idiot!”
And then silence. Seungcheol thunders forward, pretending his cheeks aren’t burning. The sky has become pitch black by the time they reach the edge of the forest.
Jeonghan hasn’t said a word to him. Seungcheol for the first time in 2 days, has been able to think about something other than the ghosts surrounding him. Jeonghans body is suddenly pressed too firmly to his back, his thighs fit around his waist a little too neatly.
They finally reach the hanok. Seungcheol shrugs off his muddied boots and then takes Jeonghan straight to the living room in the family wing, bends down so he can fall back on the couch with an “oof!”. They’re both sopping wet.
He straightens up without facing him, trying to decide what to say, heartbeat fast as his eyes travel to the trail of puddles they brought in with them on the hardwood.
“We can-“ He gulps. “We can pretend that didn't happen, if you want.”
He hears a sniff behind him and turns around. Jeonghans nose is red, eyes downcast, shoulders drooped, mouth is squished into an angry little pout.
“Hey…” he calls softly, kneeling in front of him. “Hey, you okay?”
Jeonghans eyebrows scrunch as he stares at the floor. He mumbles something. Seungcheols hesitates and leans closer.
“What?”
“I like you. I l-like you too.” Jeonghan confesses, face red. “I like you so much. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you.”
Seungcheols heart is pounding. Jeonghan is looking at him with a little frown, eyebrows still scrunched, a trickle of snot coming down his right nostril. Even like this, he’s beautiful.
“And h-hearing you say you like me-” He continues. “I feel like all I’ve done is make your life hard.”
“Please stop that.” Seungcheol sighs, kneels down and cups his cheeks. “Stop blaming yourself for things that are beyond your control.”
“But-”
“No.” Seungcheol silences him. “You’re here with me and I’m…I couldn’t be happier.” He runs his thumb over his cheek. “Fuck everything else. You’re here with me.”
Jeonghans hands come over his. Looks at him with eyes glassy and nods hesitantly. Seungcheols eyes flit down to his lips briefly, feels some sort of force threatening to overcome him. He wants to kiss him so desperately. Taste him. Jeonghans eyes are wide and anticipating. Maybe Seungcheol imagines it -but everything goes still. The wind, the rain, his heartbeat.
And then Jeonghan leans forward and crashes their lips together. As if it had been anticipating this moment his whole life, Seungcheols body sags in relief. His eyes close, easily getting lost in him. In Jeonghan. But Seungcheol is barely able to taste him, feel him, when a crack of thunder startles them apart.
Heavy breaths, noses red from the cold, cheeks red from something else. Seungcheol stares at the floor, eyes darting to the puddles of rain they brought in again. His entire body is suddenly aching, his chest hurts how it does after you cry and cry and cry. A deep sadness starts to wash over him. He looks up at Jeonghan who seems in a daze himself.The rain suddenly thudding harder on the roof breaks his trance. He looks up at the ceiling with a gasp.
“I’ll start the bath.” Seungcheol says softly, watching as tears start to pool in Jeonghans eyes.
When Seungcheol is done filling the big wooden tub with bucketfuls of hot water, he carries Jeonghan to the edge. Jeonghan is already peeling off layers of clothing, avoiding disturbing his ankle as he gingerly pulls his pants off. Seungcheol comes back and kneels in front of him with a roll of bandage and the jar of green balm.
Jeonghan is wearing only Seungcheols boxers. They’re loose on him, the waistband sagging down to his pelvis. Seungcheol lets his gaze linger before it trails down his thighs. There’s a ring of angry purple around his calf where the prosthetic detached. His ankle is red and swollen. Seungcheol grimaces. Jeonghan notices.
“This is normal.” He says, voice is raw and ragged as he runs a hand over the bruising on his calf. “It always gets like this. I’m just careless when it comes to myself.”
“You shouldn’t be.” Seungcheol mumbles, unscrewing the cap of the jar. “You shouldn’t have- you shouldn’t have locked yourself away like that-“
He runs a careful thumb over the tender skin, and then very gently spreads the green balm over his ankle. Seungcheols eyes trace over his pale leg, up his thigh, darting from his crotch to the fold of his stomach and then his collarbones.
“Just because of some superstition Halmoni believed in.” He shifts his focus back to the ankle, starts to rub circles on the swollen red skin making Jeonghan wince. “You should’ve come to town, or come see me, or if I had known- if I had known I would come to see you more often, because ever since I first met you, I’ve always felt like I knew you. Like I knew you before. And I’ve always liked you.”
His eyes shift to the bruising on his other calf. He scoops out more balm and rubs it across angry bruising with his thumb.
“And you could’ve been friends with Mingyu and Wonwoo. And-and Hansol-“ His voice catches as he unrolls the bandage. “And we could’ve spent more time together.”
“We have time now.”
He looks up and sees Jeonghan looking at him like he’s trying to memorize his face. He reaches out and plops a hand on Seungcheols hair, stroking it gently.
“I would spend all day waiting for you to come visit.” He tells him and then laughs shyly. “It feels silly to admit it now. But I looked forward to it more than anything.”
Seungcheol looks at his bare skin, pristine, save for a bruise and scratch here and there, likely from the night he trekked to the hanok by himself. He grins lopsided. Jeonghan laughs again, beautiful eyes crinkling shut.
“I would be cleaning the shop or helping Halmoni grind herbs and all I could think was I hope Seungcheol comes by today .”
Seungcheol looks down, unable to stop grinning as his face grows hot. Then there’s a quick strike of sadness in his chest. Like a lightning zap. He finishes wrapping Jeonghans ankle.
“That balm really must be magic.” He mumbles. “As soon as you put it on me, all my pain went away.”
Seungcheol gathers his things and the pile of soiled clothes as Jeonghan scooches into the tub, making sure to let his freshly bandaged ankle hang over the edge so it doesn’t get wet.
“I’ll get something on the stove.” Seungcheol straightens up, heading to the door. “Kimchi Jjigae? Or we could have ramen again-“
“Please stay, Seungcheol.”
The request is so small, so simple. Seungcheol turns around, sees him submerged up to the chest in water, looking at him so sweetly. How could he possibly refuse?
He cracks a little smile, shuffles back and sits at the edge of the tub, looks at this otherworldly being that has found itself in his home, is looking at him with sad eyes, divine eyes, glowing skin.
“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbles, unable to stop himself from reaching his hand out, brushing away strands of black silk sticking to Jeonghans face.
Jeonghan is gazing up at him like he’s looking at the stars. It starts to rain harder outside, loud thuds on the roof like bullets. Seungcheol looks up at the ceiling, crossbeams that seem to be slowly buckling under the weight, a wet spot on the the wood begins to grow, and then infrequent drops of rain start to leak through the seam. Seungcheol sighs. He'll have to deal with that later.
Jeonghan runs a hand up Seungcheols arm and grabs it, tugging it gently, bringing him back. Asking without asking.
“This tub feels huge with just me in it.”
Seungcheol hesitates, feels his face grow hot. Jeonghan gives him a coy little smile and then like he’s in a trance, Seungcheol peels his clothes off and gingerly steps into the tub, hyper-aware of Jeonghans eyes studying his body, fluttering over his chest, lingering on his crotch. Seungcheol unwraps his shoulder, tosses the bandage to the side and crouches down opposite to him, settling into the hot water with a sigh, letting sore muscles unclench.
Jeonghan cocks his head to the side, still studying Seungcheol. It makes him blush, he prays the steam from the bath hides it.
“Something on my face?” He asks with a shy smile.
Jeonghan studies him a few seconds more and then shrugs his shoulders, seemingly having found what he was looking for. He takes to stroking Seungcheols hand that hangs over the edge of the tub.
“How old is this hanok?” He asks quietly, looking at their hands.
Seungcheols eyebrows knit at the random question but he accepts.
“As old as time.” He answers in a spooky voice with the answer he gives to eager ghost hunters and tourists.
Jeonghan giggles, runs a finger up Seungcheols forearm.
“Pretty old, then?”
“It’s a real selling point.” Seungcheol keeps talking, unable to rip his eyes away from Jeonghans wandering hand, feeling shivers at his touch. “When I was a kid, I used to go around at night making all kinds of noises to scare the guests.”
“Tell me more.”
Jeonghan then listens as Seungcheol launches into tale after tale of eccentric memorable guests that have visited the inn. Shamans on retreat or on hire by someone in the area, dancing and kicking up a storm in the back courtyard, ghost hunting millennials filming content for a youtube channel no one will watch, old businessmen looking to get away from it all, disgruntled youngsters from the city coming to visit their elders at the request of their parents, anyone, everyone. He recalls one particular girl, a dentist who flirted mercilessly with him.
“With your good looks, I’m not surprised.” Jeonghan grins, eyes slowly closing. “I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
He’s teasing, of course. But Seungcheol can’t help but blush. He’s tempted to retort, to tell Jeonghan to look in the mirror and see his own beauty before talking about who wouldn’t stand a chance. But Jeonghan is slowly dozing off, sinking lower in the water. He contemplates waking him up, but then decides against it. He carefully steps out of the bath, opting to head into the separate shower to rinse off and quickly relieve the half boner he’s been praying Jeonghan didn’t notice.
In this time, Jeonghan has woken up, watching Seungcheols naked form with hazy eyes as he treks across the bathroom to where a set of clean clothes waits for him.
“Help me wash my hair?” He requests just as Seungcheol is slipping on his underwear.
“Did you hurt your arm, too?” Seungcheol asks with a raised eyebrow as he pulls on his sweatpants.
“Mhm.” Jeonghan nods with a pout.
Seungcheol chuckles and comes to the edge of the tub. He grabs his shitty head and shoulders bottle off the stand, running a hand through Jeonghans hair before squirting some shampoo in his palm.
They lapse into silence as Seungcheol massages the shampoo into his soft hair, fingers brushing over the nape of his neck. He grabs the plastic mug off to the side and runs warm water in the sink, filling it up and coming back to the tub where soapy suds run down Jeonghans slim back. He pours the water on his head carefully so that it doesn’t get in his eyes, rinsing his hair off. The mundaneness of the activity calms his anxiety, makes him feel normal. The wind howling outside is like a symphony. The silence of the hanok used to bore him, make him feel lonely. But sharing it with Jeonghan has made it easy, made it comfortable.
He has a natural scent that tickles Seungcheols nose. Musk and jasmine. It grounds him. Like a fog descending. When Jeonghan looks up at him with big eyes, pushing his hair back, Seungcheol can’t help himself. He leans down and kisses him.
It’s the middle of the night when Seungcheol awakens to his pitch black room. Jeonghan is curled into him again, asleep peacefully. Seungcheol sighs, feeling a trickle of sweat go down his back, heart pounding. Another dream, this one blurred out of focus. Once again tumbling through that dark emerald forest, desperately looking for something. And Jeonghans voice screaming for help ringing like a bell throughout, the squelch of flesh and blood, the knot in Seungcheols gut. He kept running in the dark, tripping over vines and branches, trying to find Jeonghan but it felt like the sound was coming from the sky.
He had to fight himself awake. To see him safe and sound next to him like this gives him whiplash. In his chest, there’s a surge of that desperate sadness again. He runs a hand over his forehead, pauses to admire him, leaves a peck on his hair, blinks away tears that keep pooling on his lashes. Jeonghan stirs slightly, making Seungcheol smile.
Drip, drip, drip.
Shit. That leak just outside his bedroom door seems to have sprung again. Maybe the drywall he used is old? Seungcheol sighs and stares at the ceiling, where loud rain and screaming wind seem to be trying to cave in the roof. Laying in the silence, letting that nightmare fade into a distant memory, he recalls the story of the hanok. The superstition that has endured generations. That it was a temple dedicated to a wind deity. He trekked to the mortal world to be with his human lover. And in doing so, cursed the both of them forever, dooming them to the wrath of the gods.
Drip, drip, drip.
Jeonghan shifts next to him, humming as he wakes up briefly.
“Are you awake?” He mumbles, eyes still closed.
Seungcheol hums.
“What are you thinking?” He asks, shifting and throwing his arm over Seungcheols waist, snuggling closer to him.
He falls back asleep before Seungcheol can answer. His eyes drift to the paper talisman on his side table that Jeonghan has been keeping with him since he found it.
바람
He untangles himself from him, sits up suddenly. More footsteps in the hall, rain is heavy on the roof. A deity that crossed over to the mortal world to be with his lover. His lover who was then tormented by the gods that sent ghosts and dokkaebi to haunt him. The deity that was then punished and banished to an eternity of pain. His breathing picks up as he casts his blanket off.
First he goes to his mothers bookcase, ignores the puddles of water on the wooden floor here and there. The storm seems to be worse than anyone anticipated. And the hanok does occasionally have leaks. Those can be dealt with tomorrow. Right now, a more pressing matter begs his attention as he approaches the bookcase. The top three or so rows are poetry books, the ones she enjoyed reading on rainy nights like tonight. And then some photo albums. The next few rows are old logs from before everything went digital. His grandparents always insisted on keeping them -you never know when an old visitor might come back. The very bottom row is fancy books and scrolls and pamphlets made to look like relics from the Joseon Era. They used to have actual stuff from back then in the hanok locked safely away in storage, but then the Korean Heritage Society bought them to display for events or at a museum somewhere. These are just copies in case guests want to go through them. He pulls out a thick stack of compiled folktales, laminated for easy reading.
삼국유사
He flips through it until he reaches the tale of the Wind Deity and His Lover. It’s probably the shortest folktale in the entire compilation. A forgotten afterthought of a story. A quick blip meant to explain why it rains so much on this little island, console the village folk whose crops would get washed away, whose boats would get wrecked on the shore. Seungcheol stands up with the heavy book resting on his forearm and makes his way to the back of the hanok, down the hall no longer in use, all the way to the end where a big metal door stands ajar. He steels himself, hand clenched into fists, heart in his throat. There is the dusty stairwell the same as ever. Seungcheol tilts his head up and a chill runs up his spine. The door at the top is open.
He hears footsteps behind and he’s trained himself since he was a child to not turn, but tonight he can’t help himself. A stray shadow disappears into a wall. He presses his lips into a line, forces a breath and turns forward again, slowly heading up the stairs. The rain gets louder.
The stairwell is longer tonight, steps seem to have multiplied since yesterday. Seungcheol is out of breath when he reaches the top, feeling like he’s been climbing for hours. He briefly looks over the door, tries to find some evidence of the intense banging he heard yesterday. Trembling fingers running over smooth cold metal before he turns into the room and flicks the light on.
It flickers for quite some time before finally dimly lighting the room. Seungcheol looks at the deities on the altar. They stare at him, some smiling politely, others indifferent. He averts his eyes quickly and leaves the book in between the door and the threshold so it can’t close again. Moves around the room, muscles straining, tense and slow, subconsciously delaying coming closer to the altar. There’s a puddle on the floor under the window. The window panel is rattling violently from the wind, rain is splashing on the wooden floor. Seungcheol takes a deep breath and goes to the floor-length white cloth covering the altar. He kneels down and pulls it up, only to find nothing underneath. Just the lone electric panel.
Cold wind makes him shiver as his brow creases. He whips around, surveys the room. No sign of that diary anywhere.
Shit.
He doesn’t notice the rows of ghosts standing on the stairs outside, one on each step, staring at him intently. Or maybe he pretends not to notice. He rummages under the altar and then carefully, without touching the deities, he looks on top of the altar. His heartbeat begins to pick up. Did he imagine that whole thing? He frantically looks under the altar again, around the room, does a sweep of it just to be sure, He pulls the book out from where he has wedged it in the door and flips to the tale of the Wind Deity again, skimming the summary of the story in hopes that it might reveal something to him. But nothing. Just a story of love found and then lost. The wind blows hard and cold. A chill settles deep in his chest, makes it hard to breathe. Did he imagine that? Did he imagine that? He briefly allows the thought to comfort him, a small part of him feebly holding on to the hope that he's crazy and there's not some supernatural forces at play here. Did he imagine that? Did he imagine that? Did he imagine that?
“Seungcheol?” Jeonghans hesitant voice suddenly comes from the stairs.
It cuts through everything, brings him out of his mind. Seungcheol turns around only to find an empty stairwell. It sets off warning bells in his head. It brings him back to those ghosts from the forest, in the backyard, in the grocery mart.
“You have to be careful, hyung.” Hansols voice, quivering and frightened blares in his head. “I keep feeling like something bad is gonna happen to you.”
“ What?”
“I feel like the bad thing is on its way to you. That you’re gonna die soon and I’m scared there’s nothing you can do about it.”
At the time, Hansol had been outlandishly drunk. Even though he rarely drank. Usually he was quiet and lost in his world, but that night he had seemed erratic and unhinged. Like he wasn’t fully in control of his body or his mind. Later that night, after they had gone to bed, Seungcheol found Hansols spot empty and the back door of the hanok open to a haphazard path in the mud leading into the forest.
His eyes drift to the window and there it is perched on the sill: the little diary. It unnerves him. He could have sworn he glanced over that place a dozen times. He hesitates at first, feeling a strange tingling in his fingertips. But ultimately goes to it. The night suddenly feels so still and quiet. He wipes the cover clean as best as he can, trying to salvage something out of the already battered pages that have become even more rundown from wind and rain.
祖靈
What a sad story. He can’t help but think that as he flips through the delicate pages carefully. Tears flood his eyes. To be lonely and untouchable all by yourself, to find something in someone, to make the journey to them, to touch them, to taste them, to love them. And to be punished for it.
Every night I awaken, pray to him. Every hour begins a new prayer. One that never ends, as every tick sets the rhythm of his sweet name on my tongue. The rain falls and falls and falls. My love,
the sparkling assembly of this world is here only briefly.
Angry black marks on the pages make him inexplicably sad, like a cord is tightening around his chest. He can almost imagine it. The desperation, the pleas. The pain feels like it is his own.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
To plead for someone who was once there, to have them taken away from you. To keep a temple in his name, to tend to it, to pray in it, to grieve in it. To live in it, in hopes that one day he will come back. To pray that one day Seungcheol will get to see him again. That one day he will cross over to the mortal world to come visit him, so that the soft flutters of wind may not be the only remnants of him. Swirling alongside that wind, thrumming alongside its screams and moans, Seungcheol may hear him call his name once more.
“Seungcheol?” There comes that soft voice again.
A voice that has been his comfort for so long. Centuries have passed as Seungcheol has listened to the wind in hopes that he may hear his voice again. That he may see him again.
“Jeonghan?” He asks shakily, own voice is hoarse and raspy and refusing to come out.
Silence. Just a creaking noise. A creak of wood, of crossbeams. Of angry rain pelting them.
And then all at once, without warning, the roof caves on top of him and everything goes dark.
He has another dream. A brief one. He is coming home with his woven basket slung over his shoulder. Up the hill, in that path that has become apparent over the years. The wind is silent today. Asleep. The gate of the hanok comes into view, the leaves of the birch looming over it like jangseung. As he approaches, he sees Jeonghan snoozing peacefully under the birch tree. The sun casts rays of light from in between its leaves, peppering his face like the backside of a deer.
The water is rising.
“Seungcheol?! Wake up, please!”
He can’t move, something is crushing him. Something heavy is crushing his back. Something is pushing down on his shoulder and he can’t get up. When he opens his eyes and looks up, in technicolor blurs, he sees him. Jeonghan is hazy in front of him. Rosy cheeked and teary eyed. Like a painting on a scroll.
He’s asking him to get up, he’s begging him to get up but Seungcheol can’t. There are collapsed walls and flooding floors around them and Seungcheol can’t get up.
“Grab my hand…p-please.” He’s weeping. He’s heaving, arm is stretched as far as it will go to reach Seungcheol amidst the wreckage. And the wind is so loud outside, desperately sobbing.
The water is rising.
Seungcheol is laying on his side like an injured bird, taking dull breaths. In and out. In and out. In and out. Jeonghan is desperately sobbing, trying to grab Seungcheols hand but Seungcheol can’t move, he can barely twitch a finger.
“I can’t- I-“ Thunder booms above them.
The wreckage on top of him shifts ever so slightly. Seungcheol flinches, his shoulder dislocating from his body, laying useless. Jeonghans hand is cold when he finally manages to grab Seungcheols hand. They’re grasping each other tightly. And Seungcheol feels himself slipping away.
“Don’t l-leave me, Seungcheol.” He’s begging with pretty eyes. “Don’t leave me, n-not when we've just found each other-”
The water is rising.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Jeonghan hiccups back a sob, eyebrows knitting, tears fall like diamonds down his face.
“So are you.”
The water is rising.