Jaejoong/Changmin, Yunho/everyone, Yoochun/Junsu, etcetera; rated PG for now; drama, romance, angst, general. ghost!universe! \o/
Changmin's seen enough movies to know that sometimes the main character is destined to be screwed over when they've got a ghost in their house.
For trolleys , and beta’d by simply_strange. I love you both~ ♥
So apparently everyone likes ghost!fic. :DD I'm kind of afraid I'll disappoint everyone at some point, but I'll still work hard. This fic is not listening to me very much thus far, and I’m sorry the chapters are sort of short. Right now, in order for this ‘one-shot’ (>.>) to end, I either need to write longer chapters or just continue this ‘one-shot’ until it ends or leave you guys hanging in the middle. xD; The longer chapters aren’t going to happen, I don’t think, because I can only write in short doses, haha. I think it might just be a regular chapter fic after all, with a couple of side-stories inserted here and there. Or maybe not. I don’t even know right now, gah. D:
Anyway! Thank you for reading~ :)
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Changmin, upon seeing the ghost, considers a variety of options.
He could run to the police, to someone who lived in his building, to his family, to his professors, to his - well, anyone, really. He could tell them that there's someone in his apartment who isn't really quite there. Then he could be sent to an asylum. This realization makes him shoot down that option almost immediately. Changmin's seen enough movies to know that sometimes the main character is destined to be screwed over when they've got a ghost in their house.
He could scream or have a panic attack or faint, but that's not like him at all, and then he would never be able to think of himself the same way again. There's no advantage to that, either.
He could do a lot of things, actually, but what he does is sit down and ask the ghost why he is here.
"Why are you here? Why are you in my house?" asks Changmin. He would say, I could report you, you're trespassing in my home, except Changmin thinks that if the man's a ghost, that means he's dead, and he's not certain whether regular laws apply to people who technically aren't supposed to exist anymore. The thought of it - this entire situation - is eating a hole into Changmin's reality and his mind, but he's trying to push it all aside and focus on the situation at hand. Deal with it now, consequences and dissecting the scenario later.
Seeing the ghost makes him think about how his grandmother used to talk about afterlife and reincarnation, even though that has got barely anything to do with the situation. Changmin's not his grandmother; he's never believed in anything he hasn't seen with his own eyes. He's a student who is majoring in accounting and enjoys studying philosophy in his spare time. He wants to graduate from university with a degree and get a good job, to grow old with a nice family when it's time. He wants to make lots of money throughout his life, and maybe take over the world at some point if it suits his purposes. A dead boy was never part of the plan.
The boy's pale and shorter than Changmin from what he can see, even though the boy is sitting up on Changmin's bed now, leaning back on his arms. If Changmin looks carefully enough, he can see that the boy's just a little transparent, so Changmin can see his checkered blue and white covers just a little through the boy's t-shirt clad torso and clingy jeans. The logo on his shirt says fucking my way. Changmin would laugh or scoff or act like he doesn't care if this was anywhere else and if the boy was anyone else, but he does care, because he's never been in this sort of situation before (there's a ghost in his apartment). He's a little surprised his breathing is still normal. The part of him that knows his calmness won't last long is bordering on panic.
He's still watching his checkered covers through the boy's torso, staring at them as if they will start moving on their own if he tries to look at them hard enough, and he's struck, at that moment, about how very wrong this situation is, even though of course he knows that already. But he shouldn't be seeing through bodies, and he shouldn't be seeing someone who's probably someone's son or brother or friend and who’s not supposed to be here. Someone that is transparent and, from everything that Changmin has seen thus far, dead. The sick feeling's back, now, and Changmin thinks it might be the panic that's been tingling underneath his skin that's catching in his throat now.
The boy's sitting with his legs crossed, his almost abnormally bright eyes staring directly into Changmin's like they're trying to peer into his soul. Changmin looks away first. It surprises him when the boy speaks.
"I don't know. Hi. Is there a reason why you can see me?" Changmin looks up. Now that the boy's talking, Changmin's got something to focus on - he's able to forget about his panic, at least for the moment.
"If there is then I don't know it," Changmin says. He's talking with a ghost, he realizes again.
"Hmm," the boy plops back down on the bed - Changmin's bed, and if he wasn't dead (that changed things around a bit) Changmin would tell him to get the hell off. He sighs, long and breathy. Changmin watches him carefully. The logic's starting to take over, now; he's thinking about how the ghost is a ghost, but that doesn't mean he's not human. He could be lying, he could be someone Changmin hurt when he was a kid and now he's back to haunt him. The last one's not so logical but Changmin's always liked theorizing. He’s started to mentally categorize his theories under ‘unpractical’ and ‘sort of likely’, and he’s startled when the boy talks.
"My name's Jaejoong," the boy says abruptly, and he's looking at Changmin with those eyes again. "Hello, Changmin, my name's Jaejoong. It's nice to meet you, although I think I've known you for as long as you've lived here." He smiles a little and it doesn't reach his eyes. Jaejoong.
There is a long, long silence. Changmin doesn't know what to ask next. He thinks about how this is something that has never happened before, and how either he's going insane or the dead scientists who have spent their entire lives proving that ghosts don't exist are rolling in their graves. He thinks about how if that last one is true, he could become famous if he proves them all wrong. He thinks, for some reason, he doesn't care.
"So you've been... uh, dead for how many years now?" Changmin's stiff, sitting at his desk and holding his philosophy book in front of him like he's going to read it. There's a ghost in his room and Changmin's holding a philosophy book. Changmin doesn't really know how this happened.
"Four. Four years. It feels like it could be forever." The ghost is lying back on the bed again, his arms cushioning his head as he stares up at the ceiling. (Jaejoong, Jaejoong. Changmin feels strange that it sounds so normal.)
"You don't know why you're here? Why you're haunting me?" There isn't really a better word than haunting, Changmin thinks, even though it makes one think of anger and despair and whatnot. Even though Jaejoong doesn't feel like the type.
Jaejoong shrugs and absently plays with his hands. Pull that finger, twist that one as far back as you can. See how far you can push it without breaking it. Changmin watches with a sick kind of fascination. "I used to live here, once upon a time." There's a smile playing around Jaejoong's lips, faint and slightly bitter. "I like fairytales."
Changmin doesn't ask why he's talking about fairytales, just looks at how Jaejoong's fingers aren't breaking no matter how much he pushes, and for the first time, he thinks about how Jaejoong's here and not in heaven or hell or another place, somewhere that's not here. No one else is here, but Jaejoong is. He feels sorry for Jaejoong, suddenly, but he tries not to let it show.
There's more silence, even longer than it was before. "How'd you die?" asks Changmin bluntly, and if Jaejoong is taken aback, he doesn't show it. Changmin wonders, for a second, if perhaps he shouldn't have asked. Death can be a sensitive matter. He is talking to someone who is dead. That makes it more sensitive.
To Changmin's surprise, Jaejoong's face breaks out into a smile, wide and showing all his teeth. Real. His bright eyes glow. "I've been dead too long to remember what it's like to have friends, Changmin," he says before Changmin can speak. "And I could only tell one of them. Sorry. But not really.” He stops pulling at his fingers, gets up, leans in close to Changmin. Changmin thinks that if Jaejoong could breathe, he would be able to feel it right now. “I'll be in the living room if you need me," he says, and fades away. Changmin tries to inhale.
Jaejoong can't remember what it's like to have friends. Jaejoong's lonely. Jaejoong's been dead for four years. Jaejoong’s dead. Dead.
Jaejoong looks like he's only eighteen.