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The fear of ghosts is irrational, Jeongin had always told himself, for the supernatural does not exist. All through teenage, young Jeongin had stood by that statement, firmly as any cool kid his age would. However, eighteen-year-old Jeongin, might and rage alike, started battling demons in the dark the day he blew over his last candle. It was merely a stupid wish, said out loud just to tickle the party's guffaws because the awkward silence while cutting a birthday cake carries with it an unbearable irk. "For my eighteenth birthday, I wish to see a ghost," Jeongin had challenged chance. "Even spicier if it happens anytime soon 'cause I know many horny souls must be lurking around here tonight."
Like the natural joker and incredibly charming birthday boy he once was, everyone had laughed right on cue. But Hyunjin had been the only one to protest once the clamour had died down.
"Innie, you shouldn't say your wishes out loud," his best friend had good-naturedly informed him. "It's bad luck."
Jeongin snickered. "Bad luck with what, ghosts? Those don't exist."
Hyunjin had breathed into a half-pitying hum because he didn't totally disagree with Jeongin—that ghosts don't exist—, but he knew better than to pass it off as casual banter.
And he was right.
Since then, the vivid image of an apparition in a changing room replacing Jeongin's reflection in the mirror has been printed like a regretful tattoo in his mind.
Since then, the reflex of crossing his legs over the couch has been subconsciously taught well and precise to avoid the linger of something undesirable.
Since then, shortcuts through dark alleys and tunnel exits have been dropped in favour of longer, more exhausting routes.
Since then, the dependency on his friends to guide him through the unknown has increased.
Since then, he has met and grown closer to Bang Chan.
Chan strides gloriously like a rider unafraid of an unmapped path, letting only his confident intuition guide him to where he needs to go. He doesn't need navigation or an area sweep; he courses through adventure as though he trusts it enough to bring him back home.
Jeongin had envied him when they'd first met—glittered and slapdashed at a college karaoke party—, but he had admired him all the same. Adoration sprouted into fondness and many spontaneous walks back home, until the younger settled on chasing adventure if it meant being in the safe arms of the older.
Jeongin has ghastly nightmares, but Chan has a warm smile. And that's enough for one to get by stronger each time.
And so, it is due to Chan's spirited coercion that Jeongin agrees to spend their group's first post-grad summer together at a distant island. Defensively, he had argued that he couldn't possibly chicken out if Jisung of all people was fine with the idea because none of his best friends need to know the real reason.
But like all his other friends, Chan doesn't know about Jeongin's main issue either. And why should he? He's not going to believe it. A cowardly grown man with an excessively irrational fear. It's stupid. Therefore, Jeongin had no reason to back out from this plan, especially when everyone else had been ready since the get-go.
The problem, however, strikes the moment Changbin introduces them to their forested, probably haunted, vacation house, which is well hidden from the sights they have yet to explore. The residence has a modern touch to it—Changbin brags about the temperature-adaptive flooring and a couple of richly things about the interior—, but it doesn't nearly take away from the mahogany exterior that darkens its overall appearance. Even in broad daylight, the porch alone looks like it houses that which Jeongin doesn't want to think about. To put it simply, the place is reminiscent of the start of a horror movie.
"Looks homely, doesn't it?" Changbin inquires.
"Pretty sure those are some famous last words," Chan comments.
"What, scared of ghosts?" Changbin quirks an eyebrow.
The words birth a sharp chill down Jeongin's spine. For once he's glad he has his arms shaved, so no one has to see his goosebumps, the presence of which alerts him despite the absence of physical form.
"Don't worry, I'll fight them for you, hyung," Changbin playfully adds.
"You can't even take me down," Minho challenges, already raising his fists and jumping into a boxing stance.
"Oh? Let's go," Changbin follows suit.
The power of Chan's index fingers shuts them both down instantly, even when Jisung and Felix protest in favour of the showdown. "Ghosts aren't real," Chan plainly says. "You know I don't believe in that stuff."
It's true, he doesn't. Chan has been vocal about this ever since their first cinema visit together, an offer that Jeongin had turned down with a lousy excuse that nobody cared enough to confirm. The older had shrugged past the horrific experience the moment he had exited the show, whereas the others—mostly Hyunjin—had sworn they felt something crawl up their arms and into their ears. It was all in good fun, though, nothing like the tragedy that is Jeongin's life. Not even close.
A jet-lagged Seungmin is the first to approach the horror movie entrance of the house, grumbling nonsense about how they can waste time later and how he could just crash onto the floor at this point. Felix slowly treads along, guarding his body from Minho's jump-scare tickling. As if lined up in an imaginary cue, the boys pile inside one at a time. Plodding with a false impression of exhaustion, Jeongin is the last one to grace the steps. His careless tramps lay heavy on the hardwood floor, alerting the person in front of him.
Chan turns to face him. "You good?"
"Um, yeah," Jeongin's voice issues lower than anticipated, slumping into the misery that awaits him.
Smiling, Chan halts his gait too. "Kinda creepy, isn't it?"
Jeongin slowly nods, unsure if this acceptance is the right move on his part. But Chan's pat on his shoulder is kind, so his worry dissipates by a great amount.
"At least we'll be together," Chan hums towards the end of his sentence.
Jeongin eases into a sigh. "I guess," he answers.
At least they'll be together.
Dinnertime visits quicker than they would've accepted because luckily for them, Minho has taken pity over the fact that they have limited resources and low accessibility and has decided to feed their helplessly dependent souls. (Or he just loves them a little too much, but he's never gonna admit that.)
Mindless banter dissolves into sleepy yawns by the end of the night, and they call it a day after promises of either taking over the beach tomorrow or skinny dipping in the backyard pool as punishment if they sleep in. Nobody, except for Jisung, is flattered by the second idea, so they leave with strong resolves of waking up early the next day.
The house has four rooms, but the one Jeongin is sharing with Chan just has to be on the far end so that makes things a little tricky when Jeongin is the last one to use the restroom. Everyone has already changed and resigned to their rooms by the time it's his turn. But for some reason, he stays seated even when they all clear out, even when silence becomes overbearing, even when he's lounging alone. If he can gather enough courage to just go in, he can get this over with very quickly. But something inside his mind is faithless. Intuition rejects the proposal as soon as it is offered, so Jeongin has no option but to force his willpower to act sensibly.
As always, the first few steps are a drag, but the ship sails smoothly once he fights off the load of the heaviest anchor. Heart pumping with every move, he breathes out once he gets to washing his hands. It's almost over. A few more seconds, and he'll be out of here. But muscle memory distracts him while he's rinsing his hands, prompting him to shoot a chary glance towards the mirror.
He regrets it instantly when he encounters an additional face right behind him.
Twisting on his heels, a wrong angle causes his back to collide with the basin, almost knocking the daylights right out of him. But a fresh blink informs him that nothing is there. Nothing should be there. He's only hallucinating. He gasped for no reason. He's clumsy. He overreacted. The fingers always point towards him by the end of every episode. This is so stupid.
Inhaling, he turns back around for a quick splash over his face. As the water streams over his nerves, he clenches his fists around the basin, helplessly digging into marble and granting himself nothing but paling fingers. Somehow, the sound of water dripping calms him down, dwindling the overwhelming rush of adrenaline that caused the impulsive crash. At least he was in control enough to not scream out loud.
As the pressure of being in an enclosed space weighs in, he leaves the restroom, determined to sprint towards his room light-speed. But as he shuts the door behind himself, a sudden voice pounces onto him like a wild animal.
"Jeongin," Chan calls out, but his pitch lowers down once he notices the reaction. "Oh, um... you okay?"
"Jesus, Chan," Jeongin exclaims, face flaming with embarrassment, unable to meet Chan's.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he sounds thoroughly confused but sincere.
"It's... nevermind, sorry," Jeongin stammers. "You- you can't sleep?"
"Was just getting water, actually."
Chan sure is a terrible liar, but Jeongin feels sorry for how easily his ears betray his ambitions. With a tight-lipped smile, Jeongin goes along with it anyway. It doesn't matter, the night's still young. A knowing glance informs Chan that Jeongin isn't expecting a forced exchange if Chan is unwilling, so they quietly resign to their room.
Chan fixes the sheets of his single bed, as Jeongin plops onto his, phone in hand to help him with his upcoming confession. "This place is cool and all, but it's too big for me," the younger explains. "I... I don't want to..."
"Me neither," Chan supplies, cushioning the headboard with his many plushies. "I can't do with large places either."
This is reassuring, at least. "Can we do something about it?"
"I don't think so," Chan shrugs. "Gotta deal with it, I guess."
Hope is a tiny flicker in this gruesome world, after all. Turning away, Jeongin pulls the duvet over himself, his last image being Chan logging into his laptop and plugging in his headphones.
Ironically, sleep always comes easily to Jeongin, almost like a cruel joke. But the ink of a nightmare stains every remnant of a good dream just as casually, wickedly reminding him that good isn't meant to last for him. And when the last glint dies, he wakes up, drenched in the sweat of his worst tribulation.
Panting, he sees only white for a few seconds, until the perception of his surroundings dawns on him and so does a curling weight over his shoulder. Startled, he almost breaks a bone when he spins around, but relief settles in with the talisman of Chan's eyes.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," the older mutters, inviting himself on the edge of the bed. "Are you alright?'
Jeongin nods shakily, gradually taking in the fact that he is no longer stuck in an unceasing chase anymore. "Yeah," he breathes out. "Thank you..."
"Don't worry," Chan renders, rubbing the younger's arm. "Everything will be alright."
The soft pats that Jeongin usually associates with Chan's delicate affection are replaced with something stout, like concrete. His grip is heavier than Jeongin remembers, causing the latter to momentarily furrow his brows at it. "Hyung?"
But when Jeongin faces the older again, Chan's lips are smudged with red, giving way to a grin that in no way resembles the one that he always has on. This one builds fear, bulldozing in harder with the unwavering gaze of his decaying eyes. Something akin to acid paints all over his collar bones, revealing unnatural flesh and hinting at the bones underneath them.
Speechless, Jeongin is not spared a second to register the death that's staring him right in the eyes when Chan's other hand grips onto him, digging fingernails into his skin, awakening the widened eyes of fright. Shrieking, Jeongin fights the urge to stay frozen in place, thrashing and writhing to free himself from the icy hold. The efforts prove fruitless because... Chan... binds him in place, more muscular than Jeongin remembers his hold to be.
"Pl- please," Jeongin chokes out, tearing up. "Let me- let go- please!"
Acid clings onto this monster's unforgiving smile, as he leans in closer, purposeful to do as he wills with no one to stop him, no one to intervene. And all Jeongin can recognize next is the feeling of being consumed by eternal darkness.
Screeching in retaliation, Jeongin jolts up from his resting position, battling air with his fists and blindly kicking the duvet off his bed. "Stop it! No!" he yells, which rings more like a powerless wail. His attempts threaten greater violence once he feels a foreign weight on his bed again.
"Jeong- Jeongin! Hey!"
Someone tries to force his panic down, seemingly to knock some senses into him, but he doesn't care about anyone or anything right now. But once he opens his eyes to catch sight of the countering force, his trepidation is beaten with iron.
Chan murmurs, "Hey, it's just me-"
"Go- get away from me!" Jeongin cries out in demand, flailing punches all over Chan's muscular body, mostly falling short because of his elevating fear. "Leave me alone, please!"
"Okay, okay!" Chan surrenders, retracting his arms to clear out the space between them, allowing only the younger's weak blows to fill it.
Eventually, Jeongin's tear-fuelled flames are extinguished by Chan's relentless patience, which drains the younger enough to stop attacking yet still letting his sobs answer for his vulnerability. It's irritating, frustrating, unbearably perplexing that he's in... whatever this situation is... because he can't process a single second of it.
"Innie," Chan whispers, cupping Jeongin's face and stroking the drops of his fire away before they fall. "I'm here. You're okay."
It doesn't take Jeongin more than a single, short-lived glance to confirm that this really is Chan and not a figment of his uncontrollably diabolical imagination.
"It's okay, you're alright, nobody's gonna hurt you."
And there is the delicacy that was missing, the last allurement that Jeongin requires to dive right into the older's embrace, to give himself away and cry harder and louder, because this time, Chan really is here.
Understanding as he's always been even without the aid of words, Chan squeezes the younger's frame even tighter, stroking the back of Jeongin's head as he softly shushes him down. "You're okay, Innie," he repeats. "You're okay."
Just the fact that Chan is prioritizing Jeongin's well-being over anything else is proof enough that this is him and no decoy can ever duplicate the warmth he holds within himself. Chan operates like a beloved lullaby, readily available to nurse the wounds of horrid fantasies, watering down curses like Jeongin's until they stand no chance against his light.
"I don't- I don't wanna live here," Jeongin stutters, burying his head in the crook of Chan's neck. "I don't want to."
"Okay, we're not gonna live here anymore, alright?" Chan reassures, pecking the side of his head. "You're safe."
"Please, Chan..." the younger trails off. "Please stay with me."
"I'm always gonna be right here with you whenever you need me."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
And Chan does keep his promise because the very next day, he demands to relocate as soon as possible.
"What?!" everyone questions in a chorus, aside from Jeongin—who's shielded by Chan's back for obvious reasons.
Chan isn't granted a second to explain before the others rush to shut him down. This is nothing new; their arguments have always witnessed a blabbering imbroglio. But this time, the situation is a lot serious. Chan still isn't fully in on what it is that's been gnawing at Jeongin's mind, or if he even wants to pass any judgments on that, but the younger is deeply troubled and that's all he needs to know to make a decision.
Jeongin watches as he fights on and with every trudging second, it starts to feel pointless. But Chan can be stubborn sometimes. And when he is, no one can speak over his unabating declamation. If push comes to shove, sentiment takes over the older's resolve, tossing the words right off his tongue, but miraculously in a way that's strictly calculated and thought over. It only makes sense to predict his victory in trying times like this, so it isn't at all shocking when he does win.
"So, it's settled," Chan concludes. "We're leaving, right now."
And from that moment onwards, paragraphs of speeches are swallowed down with salt and all else is swept under the rug. The highlighted fact that the older is taking a stand for the younger is all that lingers in the air, taunting cracks of newfound guilt in Jeongin's mind. But no one questions him, not because Chan scares them, but because despite everything, their love for the youngest extends all bounds. Somehow, that makes Jeongin feel even more culpable.
But breaking the density of the air is Chan's inspiriting lip-curve, which is always enough for one to get by stronger each time.
After bidding farewell to their luxurious vacation house, they all transfer to a much smaller and comparatively noisier motel, located in a packed block of bustling traffic and domestic life. They have enough cash to rent out a few rooms for a handful of nights. Driven by the thrill of living on edge, the others seem a lot happier now after having left their easily accessible extravaganza behind, similar to toddlers with no concept of object permanence. The day eases into an eventful evening and for a few hours, sorrow is replaced with convivial water-gun fights and hasty sand angels.
After a late shower to drive all exhaustion home, Jeongin's heart does beat lightweight rhythms now that it's getting easier to settle in, but the trauma of what awaits him beyond sleep is far too terrifying to give in to shut-eye. Leaning against the staircase outside his room, he puffs one out and briefly detaches the cigarette from his lips to tap the ash away, letting the sight of the setting sun sink in. It hasn't ever been difficult for him to handle pressure. But when you're one of the rare ones to be cursed with the powers of Cole Sear, smoking is tempting enough to consider the easy way out. But it's still unclear to him whether the easy way out for his subconscious mind is just a means of temporary distraction or...
The neighbouring door clicks open and out walks Chan, stretching out his arms and lightly mewling a tired yawn. Instinctively, Jeongin hides the cigarette behind the railing, inhaling as though the fresh air might clear out the toxins in his breath.
"Not sleepy?" Chan hums, adjusting against the opposite end of the staircase.
Jeongin shakes his head, placing his other hand behind his back as well to avoid suspicion. "At least I'm not the only one," he casually replies.
"I had a nap," Chan rushes to defend. "But also, I'm a light sleeper."
"Okay, I'm not accusing you or anything," Jeongin snickers, but the act is soon punished with dry coughing. Covering his mouth, he attempts to choke it down, hyper-aware of the unreadable look that Chan has on his face. Even though his tries are successful, Jeongin knows there's no running away from this.
Chan silently extends his hand, causing Jeongin to glance at it for a few seconds before finally giving up the cigarette stick. The younger is well-aware of the deadly warning in the other's silent demand; he has witnessed that face far too many times. But when the older rolls the stick between his own lips, Jeongin cannot help but gasp.
"Aren't you the one pushing everyone to be healthy?" the younger inquires.
Chan exhales a headlong cloud of smoke. "I have my secrets," he responds.
"Such a plaster saint," Jeongin taunts.
"Giving you free entertainment and this is what I get?" Chan decisively raises an eyebrow.
"Scandalous, aren't you?" Jeongin smirks.
Chan shrugs past the allegation, zooming in on the view instead. The sun has almost lulled the skies into slumber by now, but its fleeting scarlet rays provide for the sparkle in the older's eyes. While he watches the sunshine retire, Jeongin watches him, too enthralled by the sight to look away.
"Can I... tell you something?" Chan suddenly speaks.
Jeongin blinks, as if caught doing something immoral. "If you want to."
Chan sighs, clearly contemplating. "You know how people prefer the peace that comes with being quiet?"
Jeongin nods.
"Silence isn't all that peaceful for me," the older confesses.
"So, you like being around noise?" Jeongin wonders aloud.
"Yes, but... I mean, no. Not all the time."
Jeongin observes the growing frustration between Chan's clicking tongue and corrective groans, as if he's debating several things in his mind. "You just prefer activity and that's okay," the younger reassures.
"It's not just that..." Chan trails off, momentarily holding in a breath and some words before letting it go all at once. "Sedatephobia. The fear of the quiet."
"Oh," Jeongin simply says, but the realization hits as the moment progresses.
Of course, that explains a lot of things, the major one being Chan's sleeping patterns. Jeongin has always deemed him a light sleeper, even without the older's clear-cut declaration. Their friends have always had this discussion, specifically with Chan's roommates, and everytime they've added a new threatening symptom to the list of Chan's camouflaged problems. There has always been a general agreement that he carries an invisible weight, which he wishes to lock away from the rest of the world, and that their speculations may answer for that to at least some extent. But every assumption, from undiagnosed insomnia to being a workaholic, falls short against this fact. Chan sounds so sure, like he has always known, like he has been seeking help, like he's trying, that there is no way this is a framed lie. But even if words are becoming rarer in this unprecedented situation, Jeongin knows better than to request the details.
"Ironic, isn't it?" Chan says instead, slicing through the questions in Jeongin's mind. "That silence can feel so loud and disturbing."
Maybe it is ironic, but hellhounds exist in all forms and there is no knowing how or when they'll attack, and who would know this better than Jeongin would? "Only your experiences can entail if that's so," Jeongin reasons. "And what you feel because of those experiences is always going to be valid."
"But should I not have control over this?" Chan asks.
"You can't, but hey, you're trying and that's what matters the most."
"But it's... stupid."
"It's not, I swear."
"No offence, but you wouldn't know, though," Chan furrows his eyebrows.
Surprised, Jeongin mirrors his defensive stance. "How can you say that?"
"Because you don't have this problem, do you?" Chan inquires.
"I don't, but... I just... I have nightmares," Jeongin stutters.
"It's not the same and you know that," Chan argues, his tone rising slightly.
Jeongin straightens up, breathing slowly to block the anger out of his system. "It's not, but-"
"There's nothing more irrational than this," Chan interrupts.
"That's not true."
"You just don't get it," Chan fires back. "Nobody does, that's why I-"
"No, Chan, you don't get it. I can't be alone for long because I see ghosts, okay?!" Jeongin blurts.
Startled, Chan takes a step back. "You... what?"
Blinking, Jeongin holds onto the railing when his knees start to feel weak. Registering his own words is hard enough, but analysing the terrible hue of disbelief on Chan's face is labour at its worst. "Nothing," he mutters.
"You... see ghosts?"
"No," Jeongin gulps, swallowing the vulnerability that comes with taking a stand for himself. "I don't."
"It's- it's okay," Chan tries again. "There's a phobia for that too. It's-"
"Just... nevermind, Chan. Forget I said that."
Grumbling, Jeongin shoves past Chan, but the latter grabs onto his wrist. "Who else knows about this?"
With his fists still shaking, Jeongin replies without daring to face the older, "No one."
Chan says nothing, but Jeongin welcomes the comforting stroke over his shoulder. Some good weight, for once. "Can we talk?" the older requests.
"I don't want to have an argument over whether my trauma is real or not," Jeongin states.
"Good, me neither."
Jeongin finally faces him and captures a welcoming smile that waters down all the rest of his fears.
As the sky darkens, the two find themselves inside Jeongin's motel room, which happens to be the safest option since Hyunjin is a heavy sleeper. To steer the silence out of Chan's mind, Jeongin narrates his issue to the older, boiling it down to simple words and a recollection of what he believes started this. With every nod from Chan, Jeongin elaborates on his paranormal experiences, highlighting the one from a day ago to solidify his claims. But as he rambles on, his eye contact falters while his heartbeat picks up an unsteady pace. Wondering whether his words are making any sense at all or just sounding excessively nonsensical, he abruptly pauses, borrowing a quick second to glance at Chan for his own reassurance.
"What's wrong?" Chan questions. "Do you, um...?"
When Chan turns around to examine their surroundings, Jeongin can't help his laughter. "No, I don't see anything right now," Jeongin replies. "It doesn't happen when I feel safe."
"Oh," Chan looks at him. "I'm glad you feel safe here."
"I do," Jeongin smiles.
"Why did you stop, then?"
"I don't know," Jeongin mumbles. "All of this must sound so silly to you."
"Of course, not," Chan disagrees, taking Jeongin's hands in his own. "It's shocking, yes, but it's not silly at all."
Unconvinced, Jeongin sighs. Chan has a tendency to sweet talk someone out of their grief, which should be a good thing, but Jeongin is unsure whether it's sincere in this particular scenario.
"I have a theory," Chan says. "Maybe the silence feels haunting because I, too, hear ghosts."
Grinning, Jeongin bites his cheek to refrain from supplementing his sense of humor. "I doubt that," he suggests.
"Well, it is a theory," Chan responds. "You know how they say that we all have our demons. What if they mean it literally?"
"You're so cute sometimes," Jeongin chuckles. "But I'm not sure if I agree."
"At least you admit that I'm cute," Chan teases, making the younger roll his eyes. "But hey, agree to disagree?"
"We'll keep it open for now," Jeongin replies, kneading between the older's fingers.
"I'll be here for when you want to discuss it again."
"Thank you," Jeongin whispers.
Humming, Chan purses his lips. "So, I'm feeling kinda sleepy."
"Me too, actually," Jeongin nods, reclining towards the bedrail as he waits for Chan to stand. "Are you gonna leave?"
"Depends. Do you want me to?" Chan inquires.
"Not really," Jeongin honestly answers, flumping into the pillows.
Chan follows suit shortly afterwards, staring at him from the opposite end, not minding the small space between them. "There are battles we both need to fight, but that can wait," he says. "Would cuddles do for now?"
Without answering, Jeongin invites himself in, retaliating against not only the objection of his long physique but also the creaks from under the mattress. Chan allows him to dig into the solace of his body as well, drawing away discomfort and pain as he wraps his arms over Jeongin's back. Chan is right; even though the empty spaces in their minds are waging war and threatening chaos, they can wait until both of them are ready to confront the battlefield. For now, they can rest under the shade of this haven and that's all Jeongin wants to think about.
"Is this alright?" Chan murmurs, giggling as he props up his chin over the younger's head.
Jeongin doesn't need visual confirmation to discern the look on Chan's face. He already knows that the older is sporting a fond smile that is worthy of eroding his sharp edges, replenishing crevices until they're doused and primed to home purple irises, birthing gardens of pink and lavender, favouring a golden springtime over the silence of the dark.
Because this is Chan, whose warm smile is enough to help Jeongin get by stronger each time.
"Yes," Jeongin yawns, nuzzling into Chan's chest. "This is nice."