Chapter Text
[Do you believe in ghosts?]
Zeal never believed in supernatural beings. Myths were myths, and everybody could make them up with a bit of imagination. He himself included implications of such creatures, vampires and zombies and ghosts and many many more, in some of his songs. Nothing big, they only existed in theory, or so he thought.
When Seible invited him to go ghost hunting alongside Freo as a ‘bonding event’ for Halloween (questionable, but having known Seible for such a long time, it was nothing out of the ordinary), he had no reason to excuse, with no deadlines looming over him or projects he had a sudden inspiration for.
He had played plenty of horror games before, and most barely fazed him, and this would be nothing different. Surely, it couldn’t be that much of a difference in real life.
[There have been rumors of a phantom singing in an abandoned bar.]
The bar where a phantom had supposedly been spotted, was located in a small rural town, the few people who still lived there avoiding the building until dust gathered on the once clean counters and pieces of wooden ceiling began to rot and fall, bottles of alcohol left forgotten behind the bar.
In the midst of it all, a single microphone stand remained untouched by the corrosion of time, intricate golden patterns adorning the handle and not at all weathered as it was supposed to be. Whispers of lyrics, echoes of humming, weaved into the rumor of the haunted bar.
[They say that a performer passed on before he could achieve stardom…]
A robbery from passing travellers had taken the life of a single person, the bouncer of the bar, who took several bullets to disarm the perpetrators, buying enough time for backup to arrive and subdue them.
The bouncer was once spoken fondly of, his presence brightening up every single room he was in and his ability to charm customers even if it wasn’t his profession. He was genuine in his words and actions, no doubt a popular suitor even outside of the small community of his town.
Among all that, the bouncer possessed an exceptional talent for singing.
He performed almost weekly at the bar, with permission from the owner who was more than happy to lend him the stage he desperately yearned for, finding joy if his singing could even bring the slightest of smiles to someone’s face. He dreamed of a day he could get scouted to become a professional singer, doing what he loved to larger audiences, even composing a song of his own one day.
Once so beloved by everyone, his absence felt suffocating to many who adored him. The first melodies of the jazz he sang constantly drifting from inside the livehouse, even when nobody was inside, was thought to be a mass hallucination, but when it happened again, and again, his name slowly disappeared from people’s voices and then memories, in fear of the soul that was so close to stardom coming back to the mortal realm to take back what he’d lost.
Though, if you asked him, he regretted none of his actions, and never blamed his family and friends for forgetting him. It was lonely, but if it brought peace to others, then he was content.
[Despite the persistent stories, none have presented evidence.]
“There’s nothing to be scared about, Gin-chan!” Seible tugged him along enthusiastically after Zeal hesitated among seeing the ruins of the live house, Freo trailing behind, his steady presence following the two assuring that nothing could sneak up from behind Zeal now. (Or at least, he would get a head start for running away)
“Yes, Seible,” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, “It’s okay, I got like, a really high score on the horror tolerance test, even higher than you. I can handle this, no problem-”
A large bang startled him, almost making him shriek if not for 1) wanting to maintain his composure in front of his best friends and 2) he doesn’t think he can even scream that high. “Sorry, I dropped my flashlight,” Freo mumbled, picking it up, then giving Zeal a look that just said he definitely did it on purpose, “Is the test really that accurate, though?”
Seible giggled, “It’s okay, Furi-Furi. I asked around, and supposedly, the accident that left this place abandoned happened a long, long time ago. Also, nobody here has ever actually heard the supposed bouncer-performer sing!”
As if on cue, a soft humming, barely audible but loud enough for all of them to hear clearly in the silence of the abandoned live house, drifted in the air, accompanied by an even quieter, breathy, almost disbeliefing laugh.
Freo gripped his flashlight so tight his knuckles turned white. Zeal’s hand froze in his position of holding out the electromagnetic field reader. Seible’s smile tightened on his face, terrified cerulean eyes meeting shocked amethyst and *indiscernible emotion but definitely on the spectrum of very very scared* sunset.
[Guided by curiosity, or perhaps by foolishness, or perhaps by loyalty, you enter this place alone.]
“What the hell?” Seible whisper-shouted, his smile slowly dropping from his face as he recognized the situation they were in.
“If any of us die here, I’m blaming you.”
“Furi-chan? How could you? Why- you all agreed to this! You hate me!”
“Technically, we only agreed to this because we loved you, Seible.”
“You also can’t blame me if I’m the one that dies…”
“That’s not how it works, Seible.”
The trio fell into easy banter, momentarily forgetting where they were.
A giggle, barely above a whisper, echoed through the room, certainly not coming from the three extremely frightened men. A flash of ghostly, translucent white appeared for a few seconds, disappearing as fast as it came.
“Oh shit.”
[It’s cold.]
Loneliness was something the ghost had long gotten used to.
His soul, unable to pass onto the afterlife, was tied to his cherished microphone, trapped within the ruins of the live house that nobody dared enter. He watched the outside world from the windows of the livehouse, longing for companionship, his only solace being the musical instruments that he could somehow control to play the songs he always loved.
The ghost knew he had a life before this, a loving one surrounded by family and friends. He recalled the warmth of three other people, remembered the times he felt like he belonged with them, nights they spent together where he laughed so hard it hurt. Their faces were still fresh in his mind for the first ten or so years, with them sneaking in back to reminisce about their times when they were complete.
But even with how hard he tried, their faces slowly blurred, voices distorted. Such was his fate, the bouncer presumed.
Why was it so cold now?
[It’s dark.]
A few years ago, he encountered another ghost. A hero from one of the big cities he dreamed of visiting ever since he was young, who had fallen to save his teammates years ago.
Unlike him, the hero’s soul was tied to said teammates, both having settled down in his small town, away from their fame, after their retirement. The two bonded fast, the hero becoming a parental figure even to the bouncer who was in his early twenties when he died, exchanging stories and cracking jokes. For the first time in god knows how long, the ghost felt happy with his newfound companionship, yet his heart (did he even have one?) felt empty, as if missing something, someone, that once completed him.
The hero passed on to the afterlife with the deaths of his once fellow heroes, bidding farewell to the bouncer as he felt his soul slip from the mortal realm.
The lights of the live house dimmed once more, silence more deafening than ever.
[The air itself feels heavy.]
Light shone on the place where they had previously seen the figure, the three slowly backing towards the door. “It’s not there anymore,” Seible noted, moving his flashlight to survey their surroundings once more. Where the figure once was, a singular microphone now stood, golden patterns weaving around the handle, seemingly custom made. The weird thing was how it glowed ever-so-slightly, yellow light pulsating from it.
A gust of cold wind slammed the door shut, Zeal rattling the door knob a few times, then attempting to body slam it, yet it didn’t budge. “Isn’t this place thousands of years old? How is this door so sturdy?”
“I don’t think the door has anything to do with it,” Freo offered, feeling a shiver crawl up his spine.
“Why are you shivering? It’s not that cold here, is it?”
“That’s not the point, but I’m pretty sure something’s doing that…”
“Yeah, me!”
All three turned around, “Who was that?” Freo’s flashlight moved around rapidly, attempting to spot the (presumably) ghost.
“Ah- It’s in my eyes! No need to shine your flashlight around, I’m right here.” The ghost sounded genuinely distressed, translucent white light slowly forming into a humanoid shape, until his facial features were clear.
He smiled so brightly at the three that Freo felt bad for his previous actions, “Hi! I haven’t met someone in soooo long. My name’s Kaelix, and I’m the bouncer here- Or at least, I was-”
Looking at their scared faces, Kaelix’s grin faltered, expression becoming downcast, “Oh, I scared you, didn’t I?” He put his hands above his head almost frantically, “I don’t mean any harm, please don’t leave! It’s just been so long since someone visited me, so I got a bit excited… I’m a very harmless ghost, okay?”
Zeal and Seible both looked at Freo.
“Sure…?”