Archive of Our Own

Seonghwa first appears on a random Thursday, right when he’s late for class.

He’s familiar with the ghosts that inhabit his apartment now. There’s a young girl who runs around his apartment on a sugar high every afternoon at 3.30pm. A pair of young women who seem to know each other, often sitting on the floor and eating together. An elderly man who sits on his toilet glumly, usually during the night.

There are a few others who come in and out, regulars going about their day without a care for him. And he does the same—or at least, he pretends they’re not there, and goes about his life as normal. Pretending they’re not there is the only way to avoid going crazy. That, or sit and game for several hours with noise-cancelling headphones on. That works too.

But the ghosts don’t have to pretend. Even when he gets bored and watches the middle aged man in his bedroom dance badly to no music, they’ve never noticed him back.

Until Seonghwa, that is.

He’s running around, pulling a t-shirt over his head, trying to find where he’d left his tablet. He rounds the corner of his apartment, glancing over all his surfaces through the opaque bodies that potter about his flat. There, sat in his window groove and staring out at the street despondently, is a new ghost he’s never seen before.

He’s young, dressed in modern clothing, and very pretty, which is what makes Jongho do a double take. “Oh. You’re new,” he says, offhand, before continuing to look around for his tablet.

The man seems to look up at him, but Jongho barely pays attention to it. He’s long since stopped trying to communicate with the ghosts, no matter how much San tells him he should keep trying.

His tablet is wedged between two cushions on his couch. He grabs it, stuffs his feet into his shoes, and heads out to class.

-

He gets home late after trying to make headway into his work at the library. His progress isn’t great, but it’s something.

The new ghost is still there, this time sitting on his couch, which is kind of weird. Usually when he spots ghosts sitting, it’s in invisible seats, places Jongho assumes chairs existed in their lifetime. Sometimes it lines up, especially if they’re in an obvious place to put a seat. But not usually in apartment rooms like this.

“That’s my spot,” he grumbles, kicking his shoes off and shutting the front door. “Damn ghosts.”

The pretty ghost looks up at him again. Jongho sighs, walking past him and into the kitchen. He’s starving.

Pretty ghost gets up and follows his path across the room, leaning over the counter as if to watch him go through his cupboards. Jongho raises his eyes to meet the ghost’s, frowning. The ghost doesn’t break eye contact.

“What are you looking at?” Jongho asks, not expecting an answer.

“You,” Pretty Ghost says, and Jongho takes a step back.

“Me?”

“You.”

They both pause, looking right at each other. Jongho reaches out a hand and places it over the ghost’s hand, resting on the sideboard, just to make sure he isn’t real. He looks opaque, just like all the other ghosts, but Jongho won’t rule anything out right now.

Jongho’s hand goes right through his, resting flat on the surface.

“You can see me?” Jongho asks, and Pretty Ghost frowns at him.

“You can see me?” he responds.

“Uhh,” Jongho says, abandoning the packet of ramen he was about to open, stepping to the side. Pretty Ghost’s eyes follow him. “Oh God. You can see me.”

“You’re the first person to be able to see me in weeks,” Pretty Ghost says. “How are you doing that?”

“Uh,” Jongho says again, scratching his head. “I can see lots of ghosts. But they’ve never seen me before. They usually just go about their day.”

The ghost’s face falls in a way that’s devastating, like he’s just been told something gut-punchingly bad. As Jongho thinks over his words, he realises just what that might be.

Man, he’s bad at this. In his defence, he’s never had to do it before.

“Sorry,” he says meekly. “Did you not know you were dead?”

Pretty Ghost lets this breath of air out of his mouth, then clamps it shut. “I had my guesses.”

“It’s another thing to hear it from some random guy, I guess,” Jongho says, and the ghost looks up at him, eyes a little shiny.

“It’s alright. I’m just glad to have you see me. I thought I would go mad wandering around forever, never able to talk to anyone.”

“You’re not like the others. All my life I’ve been able to see ghosts, but they all act like they’re still going about their life, like they don’t know they’re dead. Some of them even seem to know each other, but never me.”

Pretty Ghost looks down at the floor. “I died in… unusual circumstances. I suppose that might’ve changed me.”

Jongho really wants to know how unusual these circumstances could be to make him a self-aware ghost, but the poor guy looks like he’s about to burst into tears. That can wait for another day, when he’s had time to process.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I’m Jongho.”

The man licks his lips, blinking a few times, suppressing tears. He lifts himself up to sit on Jongho’s counter, and kicks his legs a few times, as if to distract himself. Again, Jongho is impressed by how he can interact with the modern world. Maybe because he’s so recently dead?

“Seonghwa,” he says. “You’re a student here?”

“Final year.”

“You should call me Hyung, then. Graduated two years ago.”

“Sure,” Jongho says easily. “Do you want to watch TV with me while I eat, Seonghwa?”

“You want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” he says, gathering his courage to walk back to his packet of ramen, ripping it open. “I’ve never had a ghost friend before. Do you know how maddening it is to see people wander around your apartment all day, every day, and have none of them acknowledge your existence?”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow at him, sufficiently distracted from the matter of his own recent demise. “Just for tonight?”

“Stay as long as you want,” he says, casually. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Seonghwa nods, hopping off the counter to go to the couch. “Let’s start with today.”

“Great,” he says, setting a pot on to boil. Today is a good start.

-

 It takes a few days for Seonghwa to get comfortable living in Jongho’s apartment. He still waits for Jongho to sit before he does, doesn’t bother him when he studies despite how much Jongho would like to be doing anything else, and hasn’t set foot inside Jongho’s bedroom.

As much as he appreciates the boundaries, he kind of wants to make undead life a bit more fun for Seonghwa. He still looks pretty glum a lot of the time, but he can’t blame him for that. He just die, after all.

He seems the most comfortable when it comes to taking care of Jongho. On the third day of eating leftovers, Seonghwa asks him if they can take a walk down to the corner store and buy some ingredients.

“I’m a shit cook,” Jongho tells him.

“You have me! I’ll help you, if you let me help. I can’t watch you eat that stuff a third day.”

“It’s still good!” he insists, half-laughing. Still, he follows Seonghwa’s direction to throw the last of it in the bin. “If I make something even less edible, it’s all your fault. Are you coming with?”

“Of course I am. Who knows what you’ll come back with otherwise.”

Jongho pulls a coat on, grabs his wallet, and leads the way down the street. Seonghwa seems to know where they’re going—he must’ve lived locally in his lifetime.

“Have you always lived alone?” Seonghwa asks as they walk together. Jongho has to focus to know who he can walk through and who he can’t, in open spaces like this—there have been few too many times he’s walked right into a living person in a cluster of dead people—so he takes a moment to answer.

“Only in the last year or so,” he says. It’s dark out, but the shop isn’t far. “I lived with my brother the first two years of university. He graduated last year, and he still comes and goes, but lives away more often than he stays now.”

Seonghwa makes a comprehending noise. “So he cooked for you?”

“For most my life, yeah.”

“Has he never taught you to cook?”

“Oh he’s tried,” Jongho says, and Seonghwa laughs.

“You can’t be that bad.”

“Just you wait and see,” he says, turning into the store. He sticks an AirPod into one of his ears, so he can still talk quietly with Seonghwa and look like he’s on the phone. “What are we getting?”

“Follow me,” Seonghwa says. In the bright store, he looks more undead than ever—Jongho can see right through him to all the aisles of fruit and veg. But he also looks the happiest Jongho has seen him since he arrived.

Jongho traipses after him, putting the foods Seonghwa points out into his basket diligently, but frugal with the amounts. “I’m still a student, Hyung,” he says, when Seonghwa points at the crab.

“We should get some beef, then,” he agrees, leading them up the meat aisle.

As Jongho looks over the best of the cheap options, Seonghwa slows to a stop beside him. After Jongho picks out his choice and has it in his basket, Seonghwa’s attention isn’t drawn back to him. He follows his line of vision to two boys stood by the rack of chicken, pointing something out and squabbling with each other.

“Hyung?” he says, and Seonghwa turns back to face him, blinking a few times.

“Yes, sorry. Is that everything?”

“You tell me,” Jongho says, hitching up the basket in his hands. “Do you know them?”

Seonghwa looks surprised, looking back at the boys. They’re moving away to go to the next aisle now, moving out of sight. As they turn away, Jongho can see that they’re holding hands.

“I did,” he says quietly, pursing his lips. “Let’s go and pay.”

They do just that, and Jongho doesn’t mention the two boys again. Seonghwa goes quiet for a bit, so once they leave the store, Jongho asks what they’re making.

“For today, special fried rice,” Seonghwa responds. “It’s not hard, you’ll be fine.”

“You have so much faith in me,” Jongho says dryly.

“You’re a capable young man,” Seonghwa says, raising a hand as if to pinch his cheek, but then clutching it into his chest instead. “I know you can do it.”

He probably can—he’s alright at basic dishes, he just doesn’t usually have the patience for them. But seeing Seonghwa brightened up like this is worth putting in a bit of effort.

“When I destroy the kitchen, I’m billing you.”

He doesn’t destroy the kitchen. It’s surprisingly intimate, having Seonghwa instruct him through every step, standing at his shoulder and trying to correct his cutting technique without being able to touch him. Seonghwa has this soft voice he thinks he could listen to all day.

The resulting meal is passable, and he makes enough of it for three servings. “Now I can have it for two more days!” he tells Seonghwa, who laughs at him and face palms.

“If I teach you enough, maybe you’ll know how to live on more than just leftovers.”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, Hyung.”

“Sure,” Seonghwa says, but smiles like he knows Jongho is teasing him.

-

He stares at the article on the screen, cursor blinking away.

“Working hard?” Seonghwa asks, and Jongho blinks out of it.

He doesn’t think he’s read anything in the last twenty minutes. “Very hard,” he says. “Do you know anything about the different types of business models?”

“No,” Seonghwa laughs. “Do you know anything about the different types of business models?”

“I should,” he grumbles, letting himself fall sideways until he’s laid out on the floor. “It’s just so boring.”

“Why are you studying business, then?”

“Parents,” he says, short. “I didn’t even want to do university, but apparently I need to, everyone has a degree now, Jongho,” he mimics, rolling his eyes into his skull. “I told them there was nothing I wanted to do, so they told me to do business.”

“What did you want to do instead?”

“Sing,” he says. “I love singing. But I can’t make a career out of it, my parents say. I missed my window to become a trainee, be an idol. My next best guess is to be a vocal teacher. Who knows, maybe I could start a business for vocal teachers in the future.”

“You need to get your degree first,” Seonghwa says, grinning. “You can’t do that lying on the floor.”

“Says who?” he grumbles. “You can help me. You must know something.”

Seonghwa gasps. “I know lots of things!”

“Like what things? What did you do in school?”

“Marketing.”

“Marketing!” Jongho sits up again. “You’re definitely going to come in useful!”

“It’s not like I’ve actually used it,” Seonghwa says, amused. “I’ve just been working in a store since finishing school.” He looks away. “Worked in a store, I mean.”

“Didn’t like your degree either?”

“I liked it fine. I was just preoccupied with other things after graduating. More important things.”

“What’s more important than your capitalism prison of choice?”

Seonghwa smiles at him vaguely, then gestures back to his tablet. “Go back to your work, Jongho. Or sing me a song.”

“That’s an easy choice,” he says, and lies back down on the floor, and starts to sing.

Seonghwa sits and listens without interrupting as he gives a loud rendition of an entire old Turbo song.

When he’s done, he slow claps for him. “You’d better go into vocal teaching. You’re too good for anything else.”

“Thanks,” he says with a wink. “Want another?”

“I want you to do your work,” Seonghwa says. “Then you can serenade me again.”

“Maybe I can do both,” he says, dragging the tablet off the table to hold it up over him, bursting into song as he scrolls down the article without really reading it. It makes Seonghwa laugh, which is what he wanted.

“Do your work, Jongho.”

“Hey, have I told you about my party trick of breaking fruit with my hands while I sing?”

“I’m serious! Do your work!”

-

San comes to stay with him a week later. By that time, he feels like he’s made a newfound friend in Seonghwa, who is easy to laugh at his jokes, had warmed up to him quicker than expected for a dead guy, and has taken on the role of being his responsible flatmate (who doesn’t eat, sleep, or pay rent, but is very good at instructing Jongho on doing all of those things).

San hadn’t given Jongho any heads up he was coming, but that’s normal for him. For the last year, San has been coming and going from Jongho’s little apartment regularly, as he scours the planet for ‘answers’. Where these journeys take him, Jongho doesn’t really know, and thinks it’s better if he doesn’t know. San’s search for answers is something of a sore spot between them—while Jongho is perfectly happy and well-adjusted to his strange ability, San has always been convinced it was a sign of ‘more’.

More what, Jongho would ask? San never has an answer, but is determined to find one. Jongho is fine to let him search the world as long as he’s safe about it, and Jongho doesn’t have to get involved. It’s taking everything in him just to reach graduation.

“You’re back,” Jongho says, in lieu of greeting.

“I’m back,” San agrees, pushing in through the door and bringing Jongho into a hug. Jongho pats his back awkwardly, and San pats him back sincerely.

“You’re still terrible at that.”

“Hugs?”

“Yeah. And greeting me like a normal person.”

“That’s the way siblings are supposed to greet each other. Did you not get the memo?”

“This is San?” Seonghwa asks, perking up from his seat, where he’d been enraptured by an episode of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, like the big baby he is. Jongho is in the habit of leaving the show running for him when he goes out to class now, and he’d only gotten home fifteen minutes ago. “You didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“I didn’t know,” he tells Seonghwa, ignoring San’s complaints about being greeted nicely for once in his life. “He never tells me anything.”

San slows where he’s putting his bag on the floor. “What?”

“Don’t sit there!” Jongho says, as San hovers right where Seonghwa is sitting on the couch. Seonghwa is already sliding out of the way, into the corner of the seat, but San has his eyes narrowed at Jongho.

“Why?”

“Okay, you can sit now. I’ve got a development you’re going to find fascinating.”

“With what? Should I be worried?”

“I’m serious,” he says, pushing San down by the shoulders, as Seonghwa watches on curiously. “I know you said to let you know the moment I ever make a breakthrough, but to be honest, I didn’t think you’d believe me if I said it over text.”

San’s expression changes to one of clearer urgency. “Are you being serious? You could’ve called me, you know?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to see your face,” he teases. “Can you guess what it is?”

“Tell me,” San urges, and Jongho grins.

“One of them talked back to me,” Jongho says, pointing at Seonghwa, even if he knows San can’t see him. “He can see me, he interacts with me just like you do. He’s been living in my apartment the last two weeks.”

“You’re joking,” San says, eyes bright, smiling wide. “He’s here now?”

“Yeah! You nearly sat on him. His name is Seonghwa.”

“Hi,” Seonghwa says.

“He says hi,” Jongho translates helpfully.

“Hi,” San says, turning in Seonghwa’s general direction. “You’re not joking.”

“I’m not joking. He’s really nice. He nags me a lot to eat better, though.”

“That’s because you eat so much fast food,” Seonghwa says, pained. “Would it kill you to chop up some vegetables sometimes?”

“You do eat like shit,” San agrees, sounding slightly dazed. “Holy shit. It actually worked.”

“Nothing ‘worked’, I didn’t actually do anything. He just turned up here one day, and we could interact like normal people.”

“I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen. This could be a breakthrough!”

“Could it?” Jongho asks, crossing one leg over the other. “What are you going to do with this information, then?”

San shakes his head a little, but they’re beyond the point of fighting about this every time they see each other. Even if Jongho thinks San is wasting his time, he’s not going to stop him if his search helps him sleep at night.

“I’ll let you know when it comes in useful,” San promises, instead of giving him a proper answer. “I think I’m in a place to get answers soon, Jongho. I’m speaking to the right people, I’m sure of it.”

“Sure, Hyung,” he says, standing. San always says this when he comes home. “Do you want to order some food?”

“I’ll make some,” San offers, standing and following after him to the kitchen. “Can I still sleep here?”

“Sure?”

“I mean, I’m not in Seonghwa’s space, am I?”

“Aww,” Seonghwa says from the couch, where he’s turned to watch their interaction with his chin cupped in his hand. “He’s sweet.”

“He’s not,” Jongho says. “You’ll be fine, Hyung, Seonghwa doesn’t sleep.”

“Did he say something about me?”

“He said you’re funny-looking.”

“Ha, ha,” San deadpans. “Will you tell me about him? What’s he like?”

“He’s nice,” Jongho says lightly. The divide in the room is awkward, and Jongho is all too aware he’s the connecting link between San and Seonghwa. He’s more grateful than ever the ghosts never interact with him, usually—as nice as it’s been to have Seonghwa around, he couldn’t deal with communicating between the living and the dead like this on a daily basis.

“You can give me more than that,” San says, whining. “He’s your first ever ghost friend! And your first ever normal friend, at that.”

Jongho makes a face at him. “He’s around our age. A year older than you, I think. Died around a month ago, maybe? Likes Star Wars. I’ve watched all the movies now because of him.”

“Makes sense why you had that kid’s show running, then.”

“It’s a good show!” Seonghwa pipes up from the couch, and Jongho half smiles to himself. He has a feeling he knows what San wants to ask next, because he’s still wondering it himself.

“Seonghwa resents you calling it a kid’s show,” Jongho tells him, and San cracks a genuine smile.

“Sorry, Hyung,” he says to the room. Then he turns back to Jongho, takes a breath in, and sets his eyes on him. “Why do you think he can see you?”

Jongho shrugs. “He said it might be down to… the way he died.” He glances at Seonghwa, who has looked away from them at the subject of conversation.

“How did he die?” San says softly.

Seonghwa stands up from the couch, moving through his living room table, towards the apartment door. Once he disappears through it, Jongho exhales. “He just left. I don’t know how he died, he doesn’t like talking about it.”

San nods, understanding. “It was recent, I suppose.”

“Yeah. I don’t want to push him. He’s really nice, Hyung, honestly.”

“Yeah,” San says, rubbing his neck. “Sorry for prying.”

Jongho shrugs. “I get it. I’m intrigued too. He’ll tell me eventually.”

“Update me when he does. Actually text me, Jongho, important updates like this could change everything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, looking up at the door again, willing Seonghwa to come back. He knows he will, but he misses him already.

“I’ll make us some food,” San says, rounding the counter at last to make good on his promise.

-

Seonghwa comes back the morning after he leaves, which is a relief. He hadn’t thought he would leave for a long time, but it was strange not to have him in the apartment. Jongho got used to him being around so quickly that it was jarring to have him gone for even a few hours.

San only stays for two days. Jongho suspects his newfound Seonghwa discovery has given San some ammunition to search harder, which he can only blame himself for, really. He should’ve seen it coming.

The day he leaves, Jongho stays up late playing Battleground to distract himself. Whatever reasons he might have, San’s visits only seem to get shorter, these days.

“What did you think of San?” he asks, mindlessly wandering around the map.

“He’s nice,” Seonghwa says. “He cares about you.”

“Yeah. I think he’s too worried about me. I don’t need answers about my ability, but he’s obsessed with it.”

He can feel Seonghwa’s eyes on him rather than the screen. “It’s natural for him to be protective. Maybe there are answers out there. Something that will change your life when you find it.”

“I don’t want it to change my life. I want to graduate, and get a normal job, and live a normal life,” he huffs. “You know he went through a phase when we were teenagers of pestering me to see a doctor about it? I think he got the idea into his head I had a mental illness making me see people. Who knows, maybe I do? But it never hurt me, and I’ve not been worse off for it, so why would I go see a doctor who will poke and prod me and call me crazy?”

“He just wants you to be well.”

“I’d be better if he weren’t the one poking and prodding me about this,” he rebukes, rolling his shoulders. This topic always makes him tense. “Can’t we just hang out like normal siblings one time?”

“What if this is something he has to do for himself? For his own piece of mind that he’s done all he can for you?”

“That’s why I let him. For himself. But I don’t want it to go too far, you know?”

His avatar dies on screen, and he looks up at Seonghwa, whose eyes look far away.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You don’t want to lose him. But he doesn’t want to lose you, either. Remember that.”

Jongho looks at him. When he doesn’t respond, Seonghwa focuses back in on him. “You alright, Hyung?”

Seonghwa’s face breaks into a small, weak smile. “I’m okay, baby. Don’t worry about me. Shouldn’t you be going to bed soon?”

He scowls. “No. I’ve not even gotten started.”

-

He wakes up disoriented, lying on his couch, remote left on the floor. He looks around blearily, not sure what woke him.

“There was a knock on your door,” Seonghwa says, curled up at Jongho’s feet, expression fond. “You’re so cute when you sleep.”

Jongho frowns at him, half awake. There’s another resounding knock at his door. “I’m coming,” he calls blearily. “I’m not cute.”

“You’re sooo cute,” Seonghwa says, pleased with himself. Jongho can’t help but crack a smile as he gets up and shuffles towards the front door.

When he opens it, it’s to see San standing on the other side of the door, already with his puppy-dog-eyes expression on. There’s a man Jongho has never seen before standing next to him, expression urgent, anticipative.

Jongho looks back at San, who opens his mouth to speak. “No,” Jongho says, then shuts his door again.

San starts banging on his door from the other side. “Open up, Jongho,” he says, unimpressed. Seonghwa laughs as Jongho shuffles around, looking for his phone—it’s eight o’clock in the morning. Who knocks on someone’s door at this time?

He stomps back to the front door, swinging it open, but blocking the way into the apartment with his body. “The last time you brought someone here, he was looking for his dead girlfriend, who I absolutely could not find, talk to, or tell him she was alright. I’m not doing that again.”

“This isn’t like that,” San starts.

“The time before that, you brought me a medium who was so obviously a fake, she didn’t know shit,” Jongho says. San should know better than bringing someone here like this, again, and especially at this time in the morning. “I’m not meeting anyone else!”

“He actually knows something, Jongho, I swear,” San says, holding the door so Jongho won’t close it on them again. “He knows Seonghwa.”

That makes him still, looking back at the other guy properly. He’s got a mousy kind of face, with big clear glasses and soft brown hair in his eyes. He looks slightly pleading, waiting for Jongho’s answer.

“You have two minutes,” he says, moving further into the room so they have space to come in. He sits back down next to Seonghwa, but keeps an eye on the two entering. The stranger looks around his apartment, as if expecting to see Seonghwa here.

Seonghwa’s breath catches as he comes in, which makes Jongho’s heart sink a little. Has San really found something, this time?

San gestures for the guy to take the empty armchair as he comes to perch on the low table, looking at the both of them.

“Jongho,” the guy starts, rubbing his hands together, as if nervous. Closer up, his face is weary, tired. “Thank you for meeting me. My name is Hongjoong. San tells me that you can see ghosts.”

Jongho looks at San, unimpressed. San doesn’t look all that sorry, gesturing for him to respond to Hongjoong.

“Yes, all my life,” Jongho responds. “Are you here about that, or are you here about Seonghwa?”

“Both,” Hongjoong answers quickly. “I think I might have some answers for you. And a way we can bring Seonghwa back.”

Jongho makes a face at him, then turns to San again. Has he really brought him a necromancer this time? San, again, gives him nothing, so he turns to Seonghwa. “Do you know this guy?”

The look on his face, as he stares at Hongjoong, is confirmation enough. But Hongjoong responds before Seonghwa can. “Is he here? Now?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Jongho tells him. He turns back to Seonghwa with his full body, waiting for him. “Hyung?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa says very quietly. “Yes, I do.”

“Do you want him to stay?”

Seonghwa faces Jongho. “I want to know what he has to say.”

“Okay,” he says, turning back to Hongjoong. “Talk to me.”

Hongjoong’s eyes are flitting between Jongho and the space on the couch next to him, where Seonghwa is sitting. “Yes,” he swallows, rubbing his hands together and taking a breath in. “Okay. Let me start from the beginning. My name is Hongjoong, and I’ve known Seonghwa since we were teenagers. I… how much has Seonghwa told you about himself?”

“Enough,” Jongho frowns.

Hongjoong doesn’t look convinced. “Has he told you about the day we lost him?”

“No,” Jongho says shortly. “Can you get to the point?”

Hongjoong looks into his eyes. “Can you ask Seonghwa something for me?”

“You can ask him something yourself,” he says, turning to face Seonghwa. He’s looking pale—afraid.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says, voice shaking with the word. “Were you drawn to Jongho the way you were drawn to the rest of us?”

Seonghwa lips his licks, looking down at the floor. Then he meets eyes with Jongho, and says, “Yes.”

Again, Jongho gets that sinking feeling. There is something more going on here—he’s not sure if he wants to know what it is.

He’s not sure why it feels like a betrayal that Seonghwa didn’t tell him there’s a deeper reason he’s here, with Jongho, when Seonghwa isn’t obligated to tell him anything. It’s not like they’ve known each other that long, anyway.

“He says yes,” Jongho says, looking back at Hongjoong.

“And San?” Hongjoong asks, and San raises his head in surprise.

“Yes,” Seonghwa says. Jongho relays it.

Hongjoong looks relieved by the news. “Seonghwa has an ability,” he says. “It’s not quite like yours, Jongho, but I think it is related. He’s always been searching for people—certain people he’s drawn to. First he found me. Then Yeosang and Wooyoung. Now you two.”

“That’s nothing like my ability,” Jongho says, flat. “Making friends isn’t exactly seeing the dead.”

“It’s not the dead that you can see,” Hongjoong says, evenly. “You can see other universes, Jongho.”

There’s a pause in the room as they absorb that. “And how do you know that?” he asks, scepticism obvious.

“That’s my ability. Seonghwa feels drawn to others with abilities, but I can sense what they are when we find them. He feels connected to them, and I understand them. We’ve made a good team so far.”

San speaks for the first time. “The other two you mentioned—you found them too? Are they like Jongho?”

Hongjoong’s mouth twists. “Yeosang is a little like you. But instead of seeing into other universes all the time, everywhere, he can open up a gateway to them. Just a small one, for a short period of time.”

Jongho stands, starts pacing towards the window. “I don’t understand,” he says, turning back to face Hongjoong. “Are you telling me Seonghwa is in another universe?”

“Not quite.” Hongjoong turns to face where Seonghwa is still sitting. “Do you want to tell him, or shall I?”

Seonghwa sits there, tense and upright, staring back at Hongjoong. “Tell him to say it,” he says.

“Tell me,” Jongho tells Hongjoong.

“The day we lost Seonghwa, he was going through one of Yeosang’s gateways,” Hongjoong says, standing to face Jongho, hands in his pockets. “Seonghwa’s ability was starting to eat away at him. He could feel a connection to two boys that he couldn’t follow. We knew we were close to the two of you—that it wouldn’t be long before we met you. He was right about that—here we are, with you both. But Yunho and Mingi… he knew they were out of reach to him, and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to try going through Yeosang’s gateway to find them both. Once we found Wooyoung, it seemed doable.”

“What does Wooyoung do?”

“He’s an amplifier. He can dial up your ability a hundred times stronger just by being around you. The fact that he was living with us for a while didn’t help, I think. Seonghwa started to get sleepless, restless, couldn’t eat much, couldn’t focus. I thought it didn’t feel right—I thought we needed to wait to find you two first. But he was so determined. And he was deteriorating. He convinced me we should try.”

“I should’ve listened when he told me no,” Seonghwa says from the couch, and Jongho looks his way. “I really should’ve.”

“What happened?” Jongho asks, walking past Hongjoong to lean over the back of the couch, looking deliberately at Seonghwa.

“Yeosang’s gateway was good, strong. He’d opened it to the right universe, I was sure of it. I stepped through. Then I was in some kind of pain—I could see the building I was trying to reach, but I felt this universe was holding me back. I didn’t listen. I tried to go through anyway… next thing I know, I’m on the floor in our apartment. Yeosang is passed out, Wooyoung is afraid he’s dead. I feel fine, so I go over to Hongjoong, but he can’t see me. None of them can see me. They’re asking each other where I am, what happened.”

Jongho looks back at Hongjoong. “We thought he was dead,” Hongjoong says, voice ragged over the words. “But I don’t think that’s the case now. I think he’s stuck between universes.”

Seonghwa stands to face Jongho. “Even if that is the case, there’s nothing we can do about it,” he says. “I saw what it did to Yeosang last time. I won’t put him through that again.”

“What did it do to Yeosang?” Jongho asks.

“He was in a coma for a week,” Hongjoong responds. “When he woke up, he was in a state. Believed he’d killed Seonghwa, and we didn’t have any evidence to the contrary. But if we do, now…”

“He’ll want to help,” Seonghwa says. “He can’t, it could kill him.”

“Seonghwa doesn’t want to hurt him again,” Jongho relays.

“It won’t hurt him this time,” Hongjoong says. “We have San.”

All three of them turn to face San, the only one still sitting on the edge of the coffee table. “Me?”

“You,” Hongjoong says, confident. “You have an ability too. You’re the one who can travel between universes—Seonghwa was never meant to be the one doing it. That’s what made everything go wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Jongho says. “Are you saying you’re going to send him after Seonghwa? Through the same thing that got him stuck as a ghost and put your friend in a coma?”

“It will work this time,” Hongjoong says. “Trust me.”

“No, I won’t trust you. I don’t even know you,” he says, scowling. “Your two minutes are up now, I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Jongho,” San says, standing up. Though he seems unsure about Hongjoong’s answers, he’s got a determined look to his eye, like he needs to see this through. “If Hongjoong is right, we could give Seonghwa his life back.”

“And if he’s wrong, you could end up with yours taken away,” Jongho says. “I’m not following some guy you’ve just picked up off the street on a mad expedition to another universe. You shouldn’t either.”

“Is it really that crazy? We thought you could see the dead your whole life—is it so strange it might not be what it seems?”

“I don’t have a hard time believing that. I have a hard time believing we should be trying to do it again. If Seonghwa-hyung doesn’t want us to, then I have no interest. Can you leave, please? I have to go to class in an hour.”

San crosses his arms, standing up straight in front of him, but Hongjoong interrupts them before an argument can break out.

“It’s alright. This is a lot to process. It might be good for Jongho and Seonghwa to talk more.”

Hongjoong has been nothing but patient and open with him, and it grates on Jongho. Who is this guy to come here and tell him how he should be doing things?

“Hyung—” San starts, but Hongjoong shakes his head, taking San by the arm and leading him out.

“It’s alright. Listen—I’ll give you my number, Jongho, San can send it to you. Even if you have no interest in any of this, I know Yeosang would really like to speak to Seonghwa sometime. Wooyoung too. When you’re both ready to have visitors, send us a text.”

“Fine,” he says, wanting Hongjoong out as quickly as possible.

“And Seonghwa?” Hongjoong says. He’s looking over at the couch, where Seonghwa was a minute ago, but not where he’s standing now. Jongho watches as Seonghwa steps back to be in his eye line. Hongjoong pauses, nodding to himself. “Don’t feel guilty. We just miss you.”

He ushers San out of the door, and closes it behind him. Jongho looks back to Seonghwa in the wake of quiet, who sits heavily on Jongho’s couch, covering his face with his hands.

Right, he definitely needs space after that. Jongho looks away awkwardly, and after a moment of nervous hovering, says,

“I’m going to get ready for class.”

Seonghwa doesn’t respond. Jongho leaves him be.

-

He stays out of the apartment the rest of the day. He can’t focus on class at all, nor his studies in the library, and ends up having a meal on his own at this tiny family-owned restaurant down the road. That devolves into him drinking alone in there too, trying to process everything Hongjoong had told him this morning before he has to go back home and face Seonghwa. He cuts himself off before it gets too late and he gets too drunk, because getting drunk alone is never a good look, even if there’s an old man ghost keeping him company on the next seat over. Plus, he doesn’t want to seem too affected by it all when he gets home.

It’s pouring it down with rain by the time he leaves the restaurant, and he’s soaked through when he arrives back home. So much for not wanting to look affected—he must look pathetic right now.

Seonghwa is there when he swings open his front door, looking horrified at the state of him. “Where have you been all day? Come on, come in, you should get out of those clothes.”

He’s already in the process of kicking off wet shoes and wrangling off his water-heavy hoodie. His t-shirt is dragged off with it, and he throws both to the floor in a wet heap, shaking out his hair.

“I know, I know,” he says, and Seonghwa looks away as he starts to take off his soaked jeans too, shuffling over to his bedroom for some dry clothes. Seonghwa doesn’t follow him, and he takes a minute to dry himself off before going back out to round up the wet clothes.

“How do you feel?” Seonghwa asks when he emerges again, and Jongho shrugs.

“Cold,” he replies shortly, going over to dump his clothes in the dryer.

Seonghwa stays quiet at he fixes himself some decaf coffee. He doesn’t speak up again until Jongho is walking back across the room to shut himself away for the night.

“Jongho,” he sighs, stopping Jongho in his tracks. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like having your ability scrutinised, and Hongjoong came here and did just that. That’s my fault.”

Jongho exhales through his nose, looking up to the ceiling, then rounds the couch to come and sit next to Seonghwa’s favourite spot, right in the middle of the two cushions. It’s Jongho’s favourite spot too, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell him to move.

“I do hate it,” he agrees. “But that’s not your fault. And it’s not what I’m upset about.”

Seonghwa looks over at him, pulling his knees up to the sofa. “Then what?”

He sticks his tongue in his cheek, almost hating himself for bringing this up. He’s never thought of himself as a needy person, but acting like this, demanding Seonghwa tell him everything, feels childish of him. Why does he need to know?

“Tell me,” Seonghwa says quietly, putting a hand out on Jongho’s thigh. He can’t feel a thing, of course, but the gesture somehow pries the words out of him anyway.

“I’m upset that you didn’t tell me the reason you’re here,” he admits. “That you had a second sense about me all this time—it wasn’t chance that you found me, it wasn’t luck, you weren’t staying just because you like it. Your ability brought you here. An ability, by the way, which was connected to mine, and you knew that from the start. And you didn’t tell me.”

He takes a long sip from his coffee to avoid facing him. Seonghwa stays silent.

“You didn’t need to tell me. You don’t owe me anything. I just feel as though you’ve lied to me the entire time you’ve been here.”

He settles his mug on the table, and Seonghwa leans forward, close to Jongho.

“It’s okay to be upset about that,” he says. “You’re right. I should’ve been more honest with you. It wasn’t fair.”

“So why didn’t you?” He turns to face Seonghwa. Even with his mouth turned down, unhappy and remorseful, he’s one of the prettiest people Jongho has ever seen.

“I only realised why I had been drawn to you after I met you,” Seonghwa admits. “After you told me I was dead. For a few days I was still trying to sort things out in my mind—it was hard to come to terms with the idea that this might be my life for the rest of eternity. I know it’s not an excuse. Talking about it probably would’ve helped. But I felt paralysed with grief for myself, and for my friends.”

Jongho shakes his head. He shouldn’t have brought it up—of course things have been hard for Seonghwa. He feels selfish for even questioning it. “You don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to, Hyung.”

“Yes, I do,” Seonghwa continues, voice determined, now. “After I had come around to living with you, I started to wonder if I should tell you. I knew Hongjoong would have more answers for you, and for me. I knew the way I died—or got stuck—would be linked to the reason I could see you, and you could see me. But you made it clear you weren’t interested in answers. You wanted a normal life, a normal relationship with your brother. You wouldn’t get that if you met Hongjoong and the others. And if you told them I was here—if they knew there was a chance to get me back…”

“They would go for it,” Jongho finishes. “And put Yeosang at risk again.”

Seonghwa nods, lips pulled down. “For your sake, my sake, and their sake, I thought it was best to keep quiet.”

“Just for my sake and their sake, you mean. You can’t tell me you want to stay stuck in limbo for the rest of your life, only able to talk to me.”

Seonghwa manages a half-smile. “You’re not so bad,” he says. “You’ve been good to me, Jongho. You gave me a reason not to lose myself. I do like being here with you.”

Hearing the affirmation from Seonghwa affects him more than he’d like to admit, warming him up from the inside out. “But you do deserve to have your life back, if you can.”

Seonghwa looks into his eyes, searching. “I trust Hongjoong’s judgement more than anyone. If he says we can do it safely this time, I believe him. He was strongly against us doing the trip last time, but he seems confident now.” Seonghwa reaches out a hand, trying to brush back some of Jongho’s hair out of his eyes. Jongho does it for him, and Seonghwa smiles. “But I don’t want to put that pressure on you. If we need to put San through the gateway alone—knowing what the risks are—I wouldn’t blame you if you refused to let it happen.”

Jongho sighs, picking up his coffee again and staring into it. “San is a grown man. As much as I hate it, this might be what he needs to feel closure. I guess like you, he needs to follow what his gut tells him. And if you say it will be okay, then I trust you. Not Hongjoong, not those other guys I don’t know. I trust you. And I want to give you the chance to live a real life again.”

The smile Seonghwa breaks into is gorgeous, and the first genuine one he’s seen in a while. “You’re too good,” he says softly. He brings his arms in around Jongho’s shoulders, resting his head there.

Though he’s usually never one for hugs, he kind of wishes he could feel this one, that he could rest his head right back on his Hyung’s shoulders too.

“I’ve never been able to do anything good with my ability,” Jongho admits. “Maybe this is it. Maybe this is what it’s meant for. So I can help save you.”

“My knight in shining armour,” Seonghwa grins, and Jongho giggles. It’s not even that funny, he just feels a little delirious. Is this really happening? All it took was a pretty boy smiling at him, and he’s abandoning all his morals and ideas about his ability.

“But first, I’m getting a good night’s sleep,” he says, putting his hands on his knees and pushing off the couch. “Are you going to come with?”

“I don’t sleep, Jongho.”

“But maybe you should try. It might do you some good.”

Seonghwa smiles again, and follows him off the couch into his bedroom. The bed is big enough for Seonghwa to have his own space as Jongho climbs into his side of the bed.

“Goodnight, Hyung,” he says, switching off the lamp, not quite sure what he’s invited Seonghwa in here for. He really doesn’t sleep, and Jongho is sure he doesn’t want to be watching him sleep all night.

“Goodnight, Jongho,” Seonghwa says softly, leaning over. It’s hard to tell in the dark, and without being able to physically feel Seonghwa’s presence, but it sounds like there’s a little kissing sound right above his forehead. Jongho smiles to himself, and lays there for a while before falling asleep.

-

He calls Hongjoong the next morning, and finds himself skipping class to head straight over to his and Seonghwa’s shared apartment.

Seonghwa seems nervous to go back there, keeping a step behind Jongho as he wanders around the apartment building trying to find the right flat. It must be a few weeks now since he’d stopped ghosting his own apartment—maybe he was never planning on coming back here again.

“You ready?” he asks at the door, waiting for Seonghwa’s nod before knocking on it.

It’s San who answers. Is this where he’s been staying? “I’m shocked you’re actually here.”

“You’re not going to greet me like a nice sibling, Hyung?”

San pulls him into a hug, and Jongho sighs up at the ceiling and San claps his back, pulling away with a proud smile. “I’m so glad you guys came. Seonghwa agreed too?”

“Yes, he’s right here,” Jongho says, stepping into the flat around him and making sure Seonghwa follows. Inside the flat, Hongjoong seems to be running around doing some last minute cleaning and tidying—a strange priority considering they’re here to bring Seonghwa back to life.

“He’s let it become mess since I was last here,” Seonghwa says, almost fondly, and it clicks. One thing Seonghwa always nags him about, but Jongho can never quite get around to, is clean up his place. He knows how much Seonghwa values cleanliness.

Maybe this Hongjoong guy is alright, after all. He’s clearly doing his best to welcome his flatmate home.

“Hi,” he says, shoving what looks like a pile of dirty clothes into a storage box, dusting off his hands to come and shake Jongho’s. “Thank you for coming. Both of you. This is Yeosang, and Wooyoung.”

He gestures over to the other side of the room. A blonde boy is sitting on Hongjoong’s couch, strikingly pretty and slightly otherworldly-looking. Behind him, a guy dressed in joggers and a loose plaid shirt is eating a bowl of cereal on a barstool seat, watching Jongho carefully. Jongho recognises them as the two guys Seonghwa had spotted in the convenience store a few weeks ago.

Jongho hadn’t noticed them at first, still trying to tune out the extra ghosts—people from other universes?—in the apartment. It seems busier in here than in most places, and he’s trying to tune out the little boy running around making car noises, the family having a row at an invisible table, and what sounds like a couple having sex in the next room.

“Are you alright?” San asks him, coming up to hold his elbow, and Jongho gets a little dizzy trying to look at him. His vision has always been a bit weird around San—while the ghosts are happy to walk through anyone and anything, they’ve always seemed to give San a wide berth. It’s something they’ve long since accepted as normal, maybe even posited was San’s matching ability—that he repelled ghosts. Now, he’s wondering if this has something to do with the supposed ability Hongjoong can sense in him.

“Sorry if it’s overwhelming,” Wooyoung says from the other side of the room. “That’s probably my fault.”

“Yeah,” Jongho says, tearing his eyes away from San. It’s like he’s going fuzzy around the edges, leaving Jongho almost seeing double. “I hate it, thanks.”

“I’m sorry to say it, but you’re going to have to try and adjust,” Hongjoong says, coming to stand in the centre of the room, all eyes turned to him. “We need your help with the next part.”

“Me?” Jongho says, trying to stay focused. “I brought Seonghwa-hyung here. What else do you need?”

“One of the things we didn’t account for last time is that we know which universe we need to reach into—Yeosang feels very strongly connected to it—but we don’t know where in that universe Mingi and Yunho are. It’s going to be a lot easier and quicker for San to go in and out if we have the right location.”

“Hold on a minute,” he says. His head is already starting to hurt from being in proximity to Wooyoung and so many ghosts—he’s not sure how he’s supposed to help anything here. “So San isn’t just going in to get Seonghwa, he’s going to get these two random guys you all nearly died saving before? And you want me to find them first? How am I supposed to do that when I have no idea who they are or what they look like? I can’t hold up a ghost microphone and ask them to come to me, you know.”

“Technically, only two of us nearly died before,” Yeosang says, voice perfectly cheerful.

Wooyoung snorts. “Shut up Yeosang. No one is nearly dying, alright? I’m going to help you channel your ability so you can see where they are.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m not going anywhere near you. You’re going to make my brain explode out of my ears.” It’s no wonder Seonghwa went crazy around this guy—he has no intention of doing the same.

“Here’s how it’s going to work,” Wooyoung says, putting down his cereal bowl and stepping across the room. He crosses his arms, apparently not taking no for an answer. “We’re going to combine your ability with Seonghwa’s. By enhancing your ability, you’ll be able to see everyone, in every universe—and by combining that with Seonghwa’s ability to find people, together you’ll find Yunho and Mingi. Then we’ll know where to open the gateway.”

“How will you do that if Seonghwa isn’t even here?”

“He can still see us, right? He can still interact with this universe, even if we can’t interact with him back. As long as he chooses to go along with this, he should still be able to feel the effects of my ability.”

Jongho looks over to where Seonghwa is standing, eyes furrowed on Wooyoung. “It could work,” he agrees, making eye contact with Jongho. “I know what his ability is like, first-hand—he could do it. But I want you to be happy with it, Jongho. I won’t agree to anything that’s going to hurt you.”

Jongho looks at him for a moment, then back at Wooyoung, eyebrows raised. Then he faces Hongjoong. “This will give San the best shot of coming back in once piece, right?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong says, confident. “This is the best way to make it smoother for all of us. I know it places a big burden on you, and it’s alright if you need time to consider it.”

He exhales, starting to strip off his jacket, throwing it on the couch beside Yeosang. “I didn’t come all the way here just to go home again,” he says, squaring up in front of Wooyoung. “What do I do?”

“Come here,” Hongjoong urges, gesturing to the open space on the rug in the middle of the room. “Sit on the floor, that’s easiest.”

“You too, Seonghwa-hyung,” Wooyoung sing-songs. Seonghwa follows after them, sitting cross-legged on the rug, the three of them facing each other in a triangle shape.

“Is this safe?” San pipes up, nervously standing behind Jongho and watching them get settled.

“It’s probably going to be overwhelming at first,” Yeosang says, voice level and calm, as if they’re not about to perform what feels like a magic ritual right in front of him. “We all find Wooyoung overwhelming initially.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“You just have to endure it long enough to get what you need, and get out.”

“I’ll be right here,” Seonghwa tells him.

“It’ll be okay,” Jongho tells San, eyes not leaving Seonghwa. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright!” Wooyoung says, clapping his hands together. “Put your hand out like this, Jongho, so Seonghwa can connect to us. Seonghwa hyung, you’ll have to hold on tight, since we can’t hold on back to you.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa says, reaching out to hold each of their hands, balanced still on their crossed knees.

“He’s ready,” Jongho says.

“Now you,” Wooyoung says, holding his hand out. “Brace yourself.”

Jongho gives him one last look, but Wooyoung’s tone is deadly serious. He glances at San, who pats his shoulder in solidarity.

Then he takes Wooyoung’s hand.

It’s like all of his senses are dialled up to a hundred. Suddenly the room is absolutely packed with bodies—hundreds of thousands of voices overlapping each other, all passing through each other, running or walking or standing around him, through him, taking up every inch of space in view.

The noise is the worst part, a cacophony only he can hear, seemingly worming inside his brain and invading all his senses. He can’t see his own hands for all the invasion in his space—he can’t hear his own breathing—he can’t even feel Wooyoung’s hand in his anymore—

He grits his teeth, doing his best to tune everything out. There’s a pressure against the side of his head—he does his best to focus in on it, zoning back in on his own body, his own space, trying to find a sense of self again.

The noise seems to be dropping—he realises he has his eyes squeezed closed, and as he comes to feel each of his limbs again, his hands pressed hard against his ears. That’s the pressure—the realisation makes the noise seem further away. At some point, he must’ve let go of Wooyoung’s hand. He can’t tell if it happened seconds ago or hours ago.

Someone is saying his name. He tries to bring his face under his own control again, only to realise he’s been screwing his eyes closed so tight, they’re starting to hurt.

The voice says his name again. He coaxes his eyes open to see the blurry figure of San kneeling in front of him, panic creased into the lines of his face.

Around his form, the double vision has strengthened—though it’s fading fast, he can see the reason the ghosts usually keep a wide berth around San. It looks as though there are a thousand million endless Sans stretching back, contained inside him. The most prominent ghost is a San wearing a black mask and wide-brimmed black hat—it’s as if he’s right there, just waiting to burst out of his brother.

“You with us?” Seonghwa asks, sat right next to San. Neither of them are touching him, which he’s grateful for, and he’s able to pull his hands away from his ears to respond to them. As he does, he realises he’s breathing shallowly, and there are tears on his face. “Take deep breaths, baby. With me.”

Together, they inhale and exhale, and San kneels patiently, watching him until he’s able to speak again. He rubs his palms across his cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“You alright?”

He nods, throat feeling thick. “I’m fine.”

San pats his shoulder gently. The second-vision Sans are starting to fade, now. “Wooyoung has gone for a walk around the block to give you some space. He’ll be back soon.”

“He really wasn’t kidding about it being a lot,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says, and Jongho absently takes the drink of water handed to him by Hongjoong.

“What for?”

“I wasn’t able to adjust to your ability quickly enough. If I had, it wouldn’t have been so overwhelming. I had no idea you lived like that, Jongho. How have you managed it every day of your life?”

“It’s not usually that bad,” he says, taking a sip of the water. “You get used to tuning out a few people in a room. Wooyoung truly allowed me to see everyone, everywhere.”

“Do we have to try that again?” San asks Hongjoong.

“It’s like that the first time we all touched Wooyoung,” Yeosang says. “Trust me, the second time will be easier. For Jongho, and for Seonghwa and Wooyoung too, now they know what they’re dealing with.”

“I want to try again,” Jongho says, determined. “Hongjoong is right about you, Hyung.”

San turns back to face him. “Me?”

“All the other universe Sans are aligned with you. No one else looks like that. You could pass from one universe to the other so easily. I could see it, just then. This can work.”

He places his water on the coffee table behind him. The density of ghosts in the room is getting stronger again, which he presumes means Wooyoung is nearly back at the apartment.

“You don’t have to go through with this for me,” Seonghwa says, and Jongho holds up a hand to stop San from talking over him. San stands to go and talk to Hongjoong instead, and Jongho gives his full attention to Seonghwa. “I know how much it hurts. I’ll understand if you back out now. You’ve already given me so much.”

Jongho’s resolve only hardens. “I’m not giving up now, Hyung,” he says, as the front door opens. Wooyoung steps back in tentatively, peering across the room at him. “Not when we’re so close.”

“You could take a break,” Wooyoung suggests, and Jongho shakes his head.

“I want to see it through,” he says, making eye contact with Seonghwa.

“Take it slow, this time,” Hongjoong says, as Wooyoung comes back to sit in the same spot as before.

Seonghwa takes both their hands. Jongho is ready this time, as he takes Wooyoung’s hand, for the barrage of noise it brings on him.

The noise regulates itself a lot more quickly than before, lowering like someone is turning down the volume down on the population of the multiverse. Only two voices stand out from the crowd.

He’s closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye, he sees them—two tall men stood on the roof of a grand, old building. They’re wearing the dark attire and brimmed hats he saw on second-vision San. They’re looking out at a desert landscape, watching for something. Between them, a large, battered hourglass runs gold.

“Do you feel that?” Yunho asks. Jongho has never seen him before in his life, but some knowledge—Seonghwa’s knowledge—tells him this is Yunho, and that is Mingi. And they are waiting for them.

Then he passes out.

-

He’s only out of it for a few seconds—long enough for San only just to have reached him, helping him sit up as he comes back to it. Blacking out cuts off his connection to Wooyoung, which is more of a blessing than anything, and he’s able to see straight as he sits up and looks at Seonghwa.

“That’s the roof of the science building,” he tells Jongho, a smile stretching across his face. “We did it, Jongho!”

“How on earth was that the science building?” he asks. None of their university buildings look anything like that.

“Here, in this universe, it’s the science building,” Seonghwa says, smiling wide. He crawls over to Jongho, cupping his face with one hand. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You alright?” San asks, bringing his attention back around to him, but Jongho can’t help but match Seonghwa’s energy.

“I’m great,” he laughs. “We’ve got em! They’re at the science building!”

“You guys are amazing,” Hongjoong says, gripping Yeosang’s hand to help him up off the couch. “We can go straight away.”

“Can’t a guy take a minute?” Wooyoung says, falling onto his back on the floor. Yeosang kneels down beside him and mimes CPR. “You two are intense, I’m never connecting you together again.”

“Seonghwa all okay?” Hongjoong asks, and Jongho looks over at Seonghwa, who’s wearing the biggest smile he’s ever seen on him.

“Tell Wooyoung to get his ass in gear,” he says to Jongho, who laughs. “We’re so close to saving them.”

“He’s fine,” he tells them. “He wants Wooyoung to stop being a baby.”

“Aish,” Wooyoung tuts, and Yeosang laughs at him. “Do we have to bring that guy back?”

“Come on, Wooyoung-ie,” Hongjoong says fondly, pulling him to his feet too. “One last step to go.”

-

The roof of the science building is brightly lit, and completely empty. There’s a rooftop garden up here maintained by the biology department, which frames an open, concrete space.

With Wooyoung so close by, he can see the outlines of two tall men in the dark hats stood at the edge of the roof, though he can’t hear their conversation over the noise of the other ghosts up here.

“Is this going to hurt?” San says nervously, as Wooyoung and Yeosang settle themselves cross-legged on the floor again.

“No,” Hongjoong says. “Wooyoung shouldn’t need to boost you for you to go through for Mingi and Yunho—this is what you were always capable of doing. You probably will need his help to pull out Seonghwa, since he’s not in the most straightforward place, but you’ll be on a roll by then. It should go smoothly.”

“That’s a lot of guesswork,” Jongho says, arms crossed. Though his success earlier had him feeling near-euphoric, he’s come down from his high now. He’s reached the part he was most sceptical about from the start—getting San involved. He knows San will never stop until a job is done, no matter how hard it is.

That’s what scares him the most.

“Not guesswork,” Hongjoong says at the same time as Seonghwa, surprising Jongho.

“That’s his ability, remember?” Seonghwa says gently. “He knows. If you trust me, know that I trust Hongjoong more than anyone.”

“Okay,” he says, trying to loosen up slightly. San comes over to place a hand on Jongho’s arm.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, determined. “You trust me, right?”

“Only as far as I can throw you,” he responds, which makes San crack a smile.

“Which is pretty damn far,” he says. “In and out, right?”

“Right,” Hongjoong agrees. “If you can just get in and grab them, you should be able to guide them both through the gateway. Then come back, get a boost from Wooyoung, and go for Seonghwa.”

“We’re opening it up now,” Wooyoung calls, and Jongho sees the ghosts flickering out of view in the space right beside Yeosang, replaced by a yellowish light, like a star is being born right here on the science building rooftop.

“Woah.” The light is bright, but he can’t look away as it grows brighter.

“You’ve got this,” Hongjoong tells San.

“Open in three,” Yeosang starts, so quietly Jongho can barely hear him.

“Two!” Wooyoung calls.

“One,” Seonghwa says from beside him.

San takes off at a run towards where the light bursts outwards, and Jongho’s vision alters so quickly it makes him stagger to the side. Instead of the overlapping, different people from different universes, he can suddenly see the desert landscape from before, the top of the grand old building, and Yunho and Mingi, the only ghosts in his vision. It starts from where Yeosang’s gateway has opened, and fades out around them—the science building garden is still visible from behind him, but melds into the new rooftop view to either side of Jongho.

Hongjoong is at his side, holding him steady, but Jongho focuses on where he can see San burst through into the second-vision universe. In that world, he comes through wearing the black garb he’d seen before, matching the other two. Mingi and Yunho turn to face him, and San laughs with wild glee before running over to grab Mingi’s arm.

“Come on! Quickly!”

Yunho picks up the large hourglass from beside him as San and Mingi run back towards the light together. They pass back through, both tumbling out at the force of it—Mingi comes through looking much friendlier in college-student clothes, with brightly coloured hair in his eyes.

“Okay!” Hongjoong shouts, going over to help Mingi up as San is running straight back into the gateway. As he passes through, Yeosang wavers where he sits, and neither Jongho nor Wooyoung miss the movement.

“Seonghwa-hyung, wherever you are, get as close as you can to the gateway,” Wooyoung calls as San runs through, grabbing Yunho’s hand. He’s still holding the big hourglass in the other, but it doesn’t slow him down. “You guys will have to be quick.”

Yeosang stiffens up as San and Yunho come back through, hourglass clutched to Yunho’s chest as he lands on his knees, wearing a long, beige winter coat.

Seonghwa leaves Jongho’s side without another word, running towards the light. San reaches out to hold Wooyoung’s hand for a brief moment—gasps at the feel of it—then runs back towards the light too.

“Yeosang!” Wooyoung shouts, catching the boy as he veers to the side, passed out from the effort of keeping the gateway open.

The light flashes in front of Jongho’s eyes, so bright he has to look away. When he looks back, it’s to see the figure of San, who has fallen onto his front on the concrete, alone. The gateway is gone, along with the second-vision universe.

“Hyung!” he calls, running over, heart pounding. He can’t see Seonghwa anywhere, ghost or otherwise—it’s like he’s completely gone.

Did they fail? Is Seonghwa gone?

As he approaches, San groans, pushing himself up onto his hands and rolling onto his back. It reveals the body that had been trapped under San’s, lying on his back on the concrete rooftop—Seonghwa, looking dazed, out of breath, and completely alive.

“I got him,” San says, and Jongho gasps with relief, kneels down, and pulls the two of them into a strong hug.

San lets out a surprised noise, but Seonghwa only laughs into his shoulder. How strange it is, to be able to feel Seonghwa’s body, laughing under his hold. He leans out, flashing the brightest smile at Jongho—and it’s even more beautiful in the flesh.

“I’m back,” he says, and Jongho cups his face with one hand, feeling him here, really here.

“You did it,” he tells San, crushing him in a tight hug.

Hongjoong comes over to embrace Seonghwa too. “Yeosang?” Seonghwa asks, muffled into Hongjoong’s t-shirt.

Jongho stands, looking around for the boy in question. He’s leaning into Wooyoung, conscious—he turns to face them, and even smiles at the sight of Seonghwa. A little blood is running from his nose, which Wooyoung is trying to wipe away with his sleeve.

“He’s alright,” Hongjoong promises. “We did it. We’re all here, now.”

Jongho turns again to see the two new guys, hugging each other in the middle of the rooftop, hourglass clutched between them.

Seonghwa frees himself from Hongjoong’s grasp, step confident as he strides across the rooftop to greet each of them with a hug.

As Jongho watches him go, he releases how quiet it is up here. The ghosts he could see when he arrived at the rooftop are no more—when he looks out to the view of campus below, it looks emptier than usual, too.

All the ghosts are gone.

“I can explain everything,” Yunho says, hand in the air. “Man, it’s good to see you guys again. But can we get some hot food in us, first? Please? I’m starving.”

“Sure,” Hongjoong says, going over to clap Mingi on the back. “We have a lot of questions for you guys.”

“I think we will have the answers,” Yunho says. “We knew you’d come back for us.”

“They’re all gone,” Jongho tells San quietly. “Man, it’s quiet without ghosts everywhere all the time.”

“Holy shit,” San says. “All gone?”

“Completely.”

“I told you it would change your life,” Seonghwa’s voice says from behind him.

Jongho can’t say he’s not thrown off by the development, but he doesn’t hate it, either. “Worth it to watch San act like a superhero back there,” he says, grinning down at San as he pulls him to his feet.

“Worth it to be saved by my second knight in shining armour.”

Jongho scowls. “No, no, that’s just me. San should be something else.”

“What?” San asks, glancing between them as Seonghwa laughs.

“Come on, guys,” Hongjoong calls, from where the others are headed back towards the building staircase. Yeosang follows after them, supported at his side by Wooyoung. “Let’s go. You deserve the reward of a hot meal.”

-

“I won’t bore you with the details,” Yunho says, slurping away on his noodles like he hasn’t eaten in years. For all Jongho knows, maybe he hasn’t. “But that other universe—it was a bit of a shitshow. Controlling world government was taking away our humanity—we were leading a revolution—blah blah blah.”

“We were really cool, though,” Mingi says. “They don’t know, you have to tell them that.”

“Yeah, we did some great stuff. Helped change the world. But you can never stamp out the bad shit completely—there were plenty of people out to kill us, there. Though we’d freed the people, we were running and running to find safety. We were looking for a way out, so we could let that world start anew.”

Jongho stares at him. “Are you being serious right now? What part of that story sounds boring to you?”

“Shh,” San says, knocking his elbow into him.

“We thought other universes might need help,” Yunho says, like he finds Jongho funny. “If we could hide from those looking to get their revenge on us and help others at the same time, we thought we should. It was San’s idea, actually.”

The large hourglass they’d brought with them is sat in the middle of their table of eight, and the servers keep looking at it in confusion when they come over with more food. Yunho keeps glancing at it like he has serious attachment issues.

“When you say we,” Wooyoung says, elbows on the table to listen to Yunho intently. “You mean us as in, really us? Not alternate us?”

“I’m getting to that,” Yunho says, swallowing another mouthful of hot food. He chases it down with a swig of beer and carries on. “So we were living in that universe, right, we freed it, but then we needed to leave it. We were looking for this baby—” he slaps the top of the hourglass fondly—“to let us leave. It’s a key to travel between worlds. And we found it.”

“At the same time as the people chasing us,” Mingi says glumly. “If we’d known, we would’ve run, but we thought we were safe. We started the ritual to use it to go to the next universe, but the ritual was interrupted.”

“We were attacked,” Yunho says, gravely. “Mingi and I split off from the group to defend you. Yeosang was already most of the way through to the next universe, so there was no going back. But we were all meant to go through. When we didn’t, the ritual didn’t work properly.”

“It was supposed to bring us all through the way Yunho and I are now,” Mingi says. “With our memories and everything intact. Instead it split you guys apart, changed you, and sent you backwards in time too. There’s a reason you were all adopted—you were all found as children and raised here, instead.”

San tilts his head. “How do you know all this? That we were all adopted?”

“Because you all took a piece of the Cromer with you,” Yunho says, knocking at the hourglass. “Your abilities were all parts of the ritual that stuck with you. Because you were connected to it, we could see your lives through the hourglass, what you were all up to. We knew it would bring you back here to finish the ritual, that we just had to wait for you.”

Seonghwa’s mouth is slightly parted, listening to him. “How long have you been waiting for us?”

“About two days?” Yunho shrugs. “Time runs a lot quicker here compared to our last universe. It’s not been long.”

“That’s why our abilities are gone now,” Jongho says. “Because we did what we were supposed to. We brought you here.”

“Exactly,” Yunho says, looking proud. “Your mojo is back with the Cromer, now. Where it should be.”

“But what about our past selves?” Hongjoong asks. “We don’t remember the two of you. Seonghwa can, a bit. But we don’t know you, we don’t remember our history. Will we get that back?”

Yunho and Mingi look at one another. “I don’t know,” Yunho admits. “Only time will tell, maybe.”

“I hope so,” Mingi says, looking between Yeosang, Wooyoung, and San sat on one end of the table. “It’s weird to see you guys not knowing each other.”

“Even if not, we can still relearn,” Seonghwa says, hopefully. “You’ll have to tell us everything.”

“Of course. For now, can we come and crash with you guys? I want to enrol in school. I’ve been watching all you guys doing it, it looks fun.”

“You can’t have been watching that closely, then,” Wooyoung remarks.

Jongho tunes out of the conversation from there, trying to focus on his food instead of fixating on what he’s just heard from Yunho and Mingi.

As bizarre as it all seems… everything lines up. His visions of San in the hat, the ghosts disappearing, the fact that Yunho and Mingi are here at all. Maybe he really is free of his ghosts.

He’s got the normal life he’s always wanted. The ghosts have always been a nuisance to him. Why is he feeling remorseful to have them gone, now?

He looks over the table at Seonghwa, who is already looking back at him. He looks healthy and happy, his bowl of stew giving him a glow of being alive that Jongho is still getting used to.

That’s good enough for him. If it was all to save Seonghwa, he can accept his ability being gone, being reduced to a normal college student. He can go back to his life of eating takeaway food and failing to study and playing video games all night. It wasn’t so bad before. Maybe it’ll even be more peaceful now.

Maybe San will stay with him for longer periods of time again. Or maybe he’ll finally settle down at his own place.

Maybe Seonghwa will still drop by. Or maybe he’ll go back to his apartment with all his other friends.

He stands from the table before he realises what he’s doing. “Just getting some air,” he says, and San nods at him as he leaves.

The sun is just starting to set outside the restaurant. It paints the street in a golden glow that seems more peaceful than ever, without dozens of opaque bodies moving through it. Is this how the world has always looked?

Is this how it will always look to him now? Quiet?

“Hey,” Seonghwa’s voice says as he sidles up to join him, standing at the corner of the restaurant building.

“Hi,” he says, turning to face him, then turning away. It’s a bit too much to look at him in this light—Jongho feels like he might have to swallow his heart back down.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me, Jongho,” he says, sincere. “You didn’t know me. You didn’t have to be kind to me. But you did way more than be kind. You saved my life.”

Jongho turns to face him again—he can’t help it, he’s drawn to pretty views. “It was the right thing to do. It was worth it. I would do it all again.”

Seonghwa doesn’t spare a glance for the sunset, watching him intently. “How does it feel? Having your ghost-vision gone?”

“Empty,” he says, candidly. “I’ll get used to it, but it’s weird not having people around me all the time. I think my flat will seem lonely.”

“Well, at least you’ll still have me. You’re welcome to come and visit us and the other guys any time. And if you want a flatmate to fill the space, I’m sure Yunho or Mingi would appreciate being put up for a while.”

Jongho presses his lips together with a shrug. “I’ll try not to eat like shit without you there, but I can’t make any promises.”

Seonghwa laughs at him. “I’ll have to come and teach you to cook more dishes, then. Can’t let you go hungry.”

“Yeah? You’ll still come over?” he asks, surprised. He didn’t think Seonghwa would be stepping foot in his apartment again, if given the choice.

“Of course,” Seonghwa responds, equally as surprised. “Did you think I’d never come and see you again?”

He glances away, suddenly embarrassed. “Thought you’d be perfectly happy to be home, to be honest.”

“Jongho,” Seonghwa says.

Jongho turns away from the setting sun to look him in the face again. “What?”

Seonghwa leans in and kisses him on the mouth. It’s short, but electrifying. He hadn’t been expecting it, and now it feels like the hairs on his arms are standing on end. Seonghwa’s mouth is soft.

“You’re not getting rid of me,” he says, gaze flitting between Jongho’s mouth and his eyes. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, breathless like a lovesick idiot. He clears his throat. “Really?”

Seonghwa laughs, and leans in to kiss him again. Jongho is ready this time, cupping his cheeks between his hands. The kiss is fuller, this time, and something blooms inside his chest, giddy and amazed and absolutely stupefied.

“Really,” he says. “Take me out somewhere once we have Yunho and Mingi settled, okay?”

“Sure,” he says. He thinks he’d agree to anything Seonghwa asked right now, but he especially, definitely wants to do that. “I think I can make some time now that you’ve come back to life.”

“Good,” Seonghwa says, taking his hand. “We can start fresh now, right?”

“Whatever you want, Hyung,” he says, looking at Seonghwa’s mouth, and Seonghwa laughs at him.

Jongho leans in to kiss him again, which quietens him quickly, making sweet noises against Jongho’s mouth instead.