Spaces in Between

[bbyah]

Title: Spaces in Between
Rating: G
Pairing: Homin
Genre: AU; Horror
Summary: They creep into the empty spaces in a life. Changmin tries to run, but it's time to go back home.



It’s been about three days since he’s slept. Maybe four. It’s all kind of blurry.

Changmin rubs his eyes and decides to take a break from his aimless internet wandering. His phone blinks a notification. He wonders if it’s his boss again, but it’s too late of an hour for that. Or maybe too early. It really doesn’t matter what hour it is, anyways. Yoochun’s probably given up on him answering the phone by now, after the curt message Changmin left on his voicemail.

-- I’ll be working from home for a week or two. Something’s come up.

The house is silent for once, not settling all over the damn place with creaks and groans. Those are coming from his back at the moment. He manages to stretch out the soreness a bit, and shuffles to the kitchen.

It’s a testament to how tired he is that he forgets about the thing in the kitchen. It screams the second he steps inside. It’s human-shaped but not really, and it’s unbearably loud. It’s also enough to remind Changmin to keep to the edges of the room. The boy-thing crouched in the middle of the old linoleum floor is hissing slightly now, following Changmin with odd twitches of its head. Changmin ignores it for the most part, but watches it from a safe distance as he makes his way to the fridge. It’s necessary to keep an eye on it as he drinks some milk from the carton. He’s learned that from experience. The thing doesn’t attempt to rush him, though. Just stares at him with its teeth all out, and pushes breathy mangled words past its gash of a mouth.

‘Brown eyes, brown eyes is here.’

Changmin doesn’t know what to do.

They’re all over his house.

There’s one under the stairs that grabs at his feet when he climbs them. He takes the steps three at a time, zigzagging. The one in the air vent is the most unimpressive, stuck behind the flimsy grates, but it’s also the most unsettling. It’s taken to following him through the house, to the point where he’s started changing in a closet. One of the worst lurks in the hallway, constantly jerking towards him in big staggering steps and trying to drag him to who knows where. They don’t speak much, except in the depths of the silence, when the late afternoon sun hangs in the sky or the night becomes stale. The shadows become deeper and longer, and he covers his ears to block out their whispers- ‘sweet boy, baby alone, brown eyes’.

He initially stayed out of the house as much as he could, throwing himself into his work and delighting Yoochun, but then one appeared clinging to the ceiling over his front door- the last usable exit besides the windows.

And here he is now- sleep-deprived and alone in a house filled with something dreadful. He mostly languishes on the couch when he isn’t prowling the internet, occasionally braving the infestation to clean himself up or grab some food.

Never sleeping. He’s afraid that if he sleeps, they’ll finally have him. It’s getting difficult, though- so tired.

Changmin eases himself into a rocking chair, and slowly rocks back and forth,
listening to the creaking of the wood. It’s a desperate attempt to distract himself from the silence eating him alive. The sun will be coming up soon, but for now, the room is dark and grey, filled with a not-stillness, a breathing like there was an entire crowd in the room with him.

Changmin wakes up and immediately realizes it’s necessary to leave. There’s an implicit and sudden understanding that if he doesn’t leave now, he won’t be waking up again. He doesn’t waste any time and throws a few bags’ worth of belongings together. It’s no longer safe in the house, and this becomes more evident with every step. They are stirring- ‘darling little doe wants to escape’- and they want him. He rushes through the hallway and yanks the window open. It’s not easy stepping through it with his luggage and a backpack on his six foot something frame, but he shoves through before the house and its inhabitants swallow him up. He feels infinitely better with his first breath of fresh air, soothing and dry among the fields around the old house, but it isn’t safe yet, a pervasive gloom that has even set into the land pushing him to hustle faster. When he’s a half a mile away and his entire frame is feeling lighter, he calls a cab to bring him to the airport.

On his phone, he buys a plane ticket to wherever and runs when he lands there.

It’s been a little over a week since he left the house, and Changmin’s been living in hotels since then, days passing in a blur of ‘do not disturb’ signs and complimentary breakfasts, terminal changes and connecting flights. All he knows is that he can’t slow down.

Changmin tried to keep Yoochun as far removed from the situation as possible, but he had no chance against Yoochun’s persistent late night texting.

-- changmin
ok this is going to sound ridiculous but...i think there’s something wrong with the house.

-- Yoochun
rly? how so?

-- changmin
something like a curse. maybe

-- Yoochun
i didnt take u as a believer in that kinda stuff, changminnie

-- changmin
i kno, that’s why i didn’t want to tell you

-- Yoochun
take as much time as u need :)

Yoochun had been oddly understanding afterward, and allows him to do work for the sound studio remotely. It helps fund his exodus, at least.

None of the things seem to have kept up with him, not really, but he feels he can’t relax when the crowded breakfast room suddenly slows down and he sees familiar, unhuman fingers wrap shakily around a door frame, tightening as something works to pull itself forward.

Changmin checks out almost immediately, gathering his belongings and pulling up an airline page on his phone. He’s running from...what, he’s not sure, but it keeps him going through the endless coffees and the drone of unfamiliar people in unfamiliar languages talking about unfamiliar things he couldn’t care less about. The anonymous mass of people he moves with comfort him, though. Chatty seatmates and overly interested staff put him on edge, but the feeling of being watched is worse, so he soaks up their words selfishly. It makes the things keep their distance from him.

He finally lands somewhere in the States, a town in Louisiana called Baton Rouge. It’s hot for September, and he strips his jacket off the second he steps outside. There’s no vacancies in Baton Rouge this Saturday night, but there’s a half-Korean barista in a coffee shop who directs him to an old bed and breakfast down the road. The elderly woman who runs it can’t hear him at all, but slides a spindly key over the desk to him and directs him to a large, flowery room he’s pretty sure belonged to a girl at some point. The huge frilly bed and clawfoot bathtub are nothing like the sensible, comfortable beds and showers of home, but there’s a sweet scent wafting over him that cools his skin from the warm southern night. He falls asleep easily enough.

And wakes up in sheer and utter panic as the door creaks open slowly in the middle of the night. ‘Little doe, brown eyes- are you alone in here?’

He doesn’t wait for anything to step through, doesn’t allow himself the luxury of blaming it on an old house- he knows an old house, and he knows the sound of a foot on threadbare carpet, and he knows he isn’t safe here either.

He runs, throwing a wad of bills on the desk in the dark drawing room and escaping into the warm, suffocating night air, under gnarled oak trees and Spanish moss.

Changmin’s back in Seoul the next week to meet with Yoochun and discuss some software changes the studio might be making and of course, his situation. The house looms in his head, making him sick and irritable. He can’t bring himself to care much when Yoochun apologizes and tells him he won’t be able to pick him up.

He heads to the coffeeshop Yoochun will be at right after he lands, stopping in an airport bathroom to freshen up and change into something less comfortable- a black sport coat over a knit shirt and dark jeans. Outside the airport, an attendant winks at him and he shies away.

The coffeeshop is crowded, but Changmin spots Yoochun easily, all the way in the back corner booth. Yoochun gestures to the counter, and Changmin finds a sugary looking drink in the largest size with his name on it. He grabs it, taking care not to touch the extra whipped cream spilling out of the cap, and heads over to the booth with a smile. Yoochun stands up and steps forward to wrap an arm around his back.

“You need the calories, kid. I didn’t think you could get any skinnier, but...there you go.”

Changmin suddenly notices someone was sitting across from Yoochun, hidden from view by the tall booths. A man with a sharp but cheerful face, short spiky hair, and the type of clothes one might go to the beach in, beams up at him, then stands up and thrusts a hand out.

“Hi, I’m Yunho, it’s nice to meet you,” the guy announces with an unmistakable Gwangju affect.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Changmin,” Changmin replies, dipping his head. He feels a little bit anxious, unsure of the guy’s reason for being here. He’s attractive, but Changmin pushes the thought to the back of his mind as frivolous and irrelevant. He tries to catch Yoochun’s eye, but Yoochun is avoiding it, unsuccessfully hiding a smile behind his cappuccino.

They sit back down. Changmin takes the seat next to Yoochun and turns to him.

“So, um, is this a friend of yours?” Changmin asks.

“Well, yes, but. He’s actually here because I asked him for a favor.”

Changmin just waits, lips stretched into a polite smile.

If this is another blind date, I’m going to pitch a fit.

“I’m a little worried about you, Changmin. You seem really unlike yourself. So when I got that text, I thought maybe Yunho could help,” Yoochun says.

Changmin’s eyes slide over to Yunho, smile already feeling frozen.

Yunho leans forward, voice lowered.

“I hear you’re having problems with your house. I wanted to see if maybe you could take me to go have a look. I want to help you, Changmin. I can’t promise anything, but-”

Changmin gets distracted by the way Yunho talks. He has a strange way of tilting his head this way and that, and sounds cajoling, like he’s trying to convince him to buy insurance or open the front door or something. Changmin loses focus until something hits his arm.

When he snaps out of it, Yoochun has a weird expression on his face.

“Welcome back to Earth, cadet,” Yoochun says, resting his chin on his hand as he watches Changmin calmly.

“Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well for...a while.”

“Obviously.”

Changmin sips his drink and glances up at Yunho, who smiles, eyes squinting up into little crescents. The drink suddenly tastes like nothing.

“So how about it?” he says, urging Changmin softly.

“What do you mean by ‘help’, exactly?” Changmin asks. His skeptical side is telling him to distrust everything the guy says, but something about the desperate sincerity Yunho is attempting to coax him with makes him wonder if there’s something to this strange man.

Yunho looks around to check if the booths around them are empty, and say the next part with zero inflection, like he doesn’t want anyone around them to pick up on it.

“I can see certain things. Things on the other side.”

Changmin just stares at him. Before he can stop himself, he laughs out a short little breath of air.

“You see ghosts?” he asks.

Yunho leans back and nods. Yoochun, true to his story, doesn’t seem to be surprised, probably hearing nothing new.

Changmin looks at his drink and pulls some of the whipped cream out with the straw. Are the things at the house ghosts? It seems too...easy. Too cliche. He doesn’t want to hear that those things are ‘common’, because they’re terrifying and he wouldn’t wish them on anyone else.

He glances around the shop. No weird things creeping along the ceiling or under the table at the moment.

“Are there any ghosts here?” He asks, eating the fluff of cream on the end of his straw. Yoochun perks up a little.

Yunho looks past Changmin, out at the entrance to the coffeeshop. He seems to be watching something, before looking back to Changmin. Changmin realizes Yunho is sitting in what one could consider the best vantage point- he’s in the back corner and able to see the entire shop.

“Before I say ‘yes’, it’s important to know that there isn’t really one type of ‘ghost’, and they might not even really be what you’d expect. ‘Ghosts’...there’s so many theories out there, and maybe they’re all true.” Yunho taps his empty coffee cup.
“There are the type that just coexist on a different ‘frequency’. Maybe right above or below ours. For the most part, they are humans, or human-like. They aren’t evil or ‘wrong’, they’re just people living in a frequency. I think. An old woman out there- she was shot- is going about her business normally. She’s standing against a wall where her cart used to stand. Maybe she’s lost in between frequencies, or maybe she’s just barely playing through from the other side, like a cassette tape. Or I guess you could say we humans are like radio receivers, and I just happen to have satellite radio.”

Yunho elaborates on his explanation with a ridiculous ‘antennae’ gesture, fingers pointing up on either side of his head. Changmin just ignores him and looks outside.
He can’t see anything but living people milling around, unconsciously avoiding an empty space by the wall.

“What about the other types,” Changmin asks, scooting forward in the booth. He leans on the table, completely serious.

“Well,” Yunho begins, thinking over his words carefully, “there’s many...but usually, if they are causing you this much trouble, they are feeding off of you. Actually, that kind of problem is usually why people call me.”

“Like vampires?” Yoochun asks, with a huge grin. Changmin shoots a withering look at him, and Yunho laughs a little.

“Yeah, I guess similar to vampires. People have a tendency to...well, neglect themselves, especially nowadays. They’re busy, or rushed, or just afraid.” Yunho looks directly into Changmin’s eyes at this, and Changmin shrinks back a little bit.

“Everyone has these problems, and it’s not a bad thing...but sometimes, they become used to it. They let the holes in their life get bigger, until there’s no way they can fill them in by themselves. And, just like an empty shell in the ocean...eventually, something will try to move in.”

The next day, Changmin taps his cellphone screen anxiously, trying to ignore Yunho humming in the driver’s seat. After picking him up from Yoochun’s apartment, Yunho’s asked if he could go check out the house today, and possibly spend the night there. It doesn’t sit well with Changmin. The idea of the house scares the crap out of him, in all honesty. He can picture it so clearly, dark and silent against the empty field. Staying in Yoochun’s modern, inviting apartment was heaven compared to the numerous nights in hotels, but now he’s just feeling cold and nauseous.

Something touches his arm, and he jumps about a foot out of his seat. It’s just Yunho’s hand, and he backs off apologetically.

“Woah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Yunho says. Changmin takes a deep breath and wills himself to calm down.

“You’re fine. I’m...on edge,” he replies, smiling weakly. Yunho looks sympathetic. “I...really don’t want to go to the house,” Changmin suddenly blurts.

“I promise, if you don’t want to, we don’t even have to go inside. You could stay in the car.”

“No, I want to get to the bottom of this,” Changmin says as he runs a finger along the stitching of the seat. “I’ve been running for days now. I think I just need to face whatever it is.”

Yunho smiles and pats Changmin’s knee before giving it a squeeze.

“I’m here with you, so there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Changmin finds himself wishing the warmth of Yunho’s hand didn’t fade so fast, then cuts himself off. He looks back out the window, dread filling in the spaces left behind.

They finally arrive at a familiar road, and Yunho whistles (or tries to) as the house comes into view. Changmin stumbles out of the car as soon as it’s in the driveway.

He feels like he’s going to throw up.

Yunho makes his way to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“You okay?” Changmin shrugs his arm off and nods as he looks up at the house.
Nothing’s changed, unfortunately, and he waits as Yunho pulls a ratty backpack out of the backseat. It jingles as he manhandles it.

“Supplies,” he chirps when Changmin eyes the backpack warily. Yunho finally looks at the house, taking it in. “It’s...nice.”

Changmin laughs humorlessly. “No it’s not. It’s old. It was nice, for a while. A ‘fixer-upper’.”

He and Yunho start walking towards the porch, jingling the entire way. Changmin keeps an eye on the windows. There’s no sign of anything unusual, but Changmin’s not about to lower his guard. He keeps ahead of Yunho like a good host, although he supposes there was no mention in the etiquette his mother taught him about making sure your guests don’t get eaten by the weird ghost infestation in your house.

The walkway is littered with dead leaves, rustling softly as they stir in the chilly autumn breeze. Each crunch of leaves makes Changmin’s anticipation hike up, but he presses on. He pauses in front of the porch steps, and he fights an encouraging wave of tremors from his legs.

Yunho suddenly grabs his hand and squeezes it. Changmin pulls away a little bit out of reflex, then looks at Yunho curiously. The guy is rather touchy-feely.

“I came here about a week ago, after Yoochun told me about it,” Yunho confesses, sounding hesitant. “I just checked it out from the driveway, didn’t really get a good look up close. And...”

Changmin swallows.

“Did you see anything?” he asks.

He anticipates Yunho’s diagnosis of one of the worst cases of dead people he’s ever seen, and that his house is beyond help. He’s not prepared for Yunho’s sheepish smile and shrug.

“Not really.”

Changmin stares at him. Yunho just laughs nervously and lets go of Changmin’s hand. He can’t help but notice how much heavier and more anxious he suddenly feels now that Yunho is wandering away from him and towards the house, and hurries to match his pace.

They climb up the porch stairs together, each step creaking under their combined weight. Changmin fishes the key out of his pocket, and unlocks the door.

He holds his breath as he slowly eases it open, eyes adjusting to the gloominess as he looks the room over for a sign of anything strange. It seems okay, though, and nothing skitters across the wall or anything. His first footstep into the dark house is hesitant, but he feels a surprisingly better when he feels Yunho’s hand light upon the small of his back.

They crowd awkwardly in the doorway, and Changmin glances at Yunho, who narrows his eyes.

“What is it?” Changmin whispers. Yunho looks startled.

“I like your couch...?” he offers.

Changmin fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Focus, Yunho. Do you see anything?”

Yunho shakes his head.

“Show me where they are?” He asks, fingers pressing against Changmin’s back. Changmin stiffens, then relaxes and starts walking further in. He checks above the door, but nothing’s there.

“Usually, there’s one up here,” Changmin murmurs, “and over there behind the chair. But they’re not here for some reason...”

He makes his way along the edges of the room, Yunho trailing closely behind. Right as he passes the kitchen door, he suddenly hears something moving inside.

Yunho’s by his side immediately.

“What was that,” Yunho asks, staring at the door.

“I don’t know. Come on.”

There’s an audible thumping noise as Changmin opens the door, but the kitchen is empty.

“Something was just here,” Yunho says. Changmin looks around the room, eyes darting from corner to corner.

“They’re fucking with me,” he says, voice full of disbelief. “They’re hiding.”

He runs to the next room, and then to the hallway, ignoring Yunho’s noise of surprise and focusing on the scrabbling and shuffling noises trying to move away from him in the dark corners and shadows of doorways. He finally stops at the stairs, and Yunho’s there, somehow managing to keep up with his pace.

“Changmin, slow down, please,” Yunho says firmly, gripping Changmin’s shoulders and turning him to look at him. Changmin swallows, still looking up at the second floor, before shaking his head.

“You hear them, right? I’m not just...just losing it, right?”

Yunho nods, rubbing Changmin’s shoulders with his thumbs.

“No, you’re not. I heard them too. There’s absolutely something in this house. But we
have to keep calm. No more rushing around. Stick together. The more panicked you are, the more strength they have.”

Changmin breathes and closes his eyes briefly.

“Right. Stay with me.”

Yunho slings an arm around his shoulders, and they look up the stairs. There’s a darkness that obscures the second story landing, almost tangible in its thickness.

They share a glance.

“I guess this is where you come in, hyung. What should we do?”

Yunho frowns.

“Let’s go back to the living room. We’ll set up a base and decide if you’re comfortable spending the night here. Then I’d like to go through the house more carefully.”

Changmin takes one last look at the top of the stairs, then follows when Yunho tugs him away.

“I’m fine, we can stay,” Changmin insists to a skeptical looking Yunho. They’re sitting on the couch, arguing over Changmin’s constitution as Yunho unzips his backpack. He pulls out a notebook that looks like Yunho bought it sometime in the 7th grade. It’s a composition book covered in stickers and swollen with frilly, wrinkled pages, each filled edge-to-edge with what Changmin assumes is Yunho’s scrawl.

“What is that?” Changmin asks, wrinkling his nose.

Yunho snorts, and runs a hand over the cover lovingly.

“This...this is where I write all my notes,” he says, opening it.

“Really, in a notebook? No,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. He feels bad for being a bit of a jerk, but he’s long-since lacked the energy to be civil.

To his surprise (and relief), Yunho levels a very effective flat look right back at Changmin. Considering Yunho’s been nothing but smiles to him so far, Changmin finds it oddly exciting that he’s finally annoyed Yunho enough to provoke a like reaction. He finds himself smiling a little bit back at him.

Yunho looks away hurriedly and clears his throat, before tapping a finger on a random page.

“This book has notes on every paranormal being I’ve interacted with for the past five years. That’s when I started helping people with their problems. Once I manage to meet yours, we can look for precedence.”

“Oh.” Changmin’s not sure what he was expecting, maybe a Ouija board and some joss sticks, or possibly a crystal ball, but Yunho’s approach to the situation is unexpectedly... logical. Lawyer-like.

He decides that whatever Yunho wants to do is good enough for him and lets him get on with his equipment. Changmin fidgets and wonders if he should offer Yunho a drink or something, and ends up shoving his hands under his legs. He tries not to curl his lip too much when Yunho extracts a tangled mass of trinkets and jingly things from his bag.

“Good luck charms,” Yunho tells him with a grin.

“What else did you bring?” Changmin tries to peer into Yunho’s bag from his spot on the couch.

“Snacks!” Yunho announces, tugging out a handful of snack bags. “In case we’re hungry. Gotta keep up our energy.”

Changmin resists the urge to facepalm. Does he think this is a sleepover?

“Aren’t we going upstairs?” he asks.

Yunho tilts his head and purses his lips, like he’s thinking about it.

“It might be safer to wait down here, Changmin.”

Changmin’s fingers curl slightly. A part of him feels angry when he hears those words- he’s waited long enough, run for long enough...he’s sick of waiting, he wants his house back.

“I don’t care,” he says, voice thin. “Waiting won’t get rid of them- I know, I slept for three weeks on my couch. I want to know what they are, why they’re here, why they picked me.”

Yunho just looks at him coolly.

“You might not like the answer. You might not get the answer. There might not be a reason. And if there is, sometimes it’s better if you didn’t know.” His voice is soft and placating.

Changmin sighs and stretches his neck from side to side.

“Anything’s better than this.”

They stand by the stairs. Yunho’s testing an emergency flashlight while he shoves a few spare batteries in his pockets (‘they have a funny way of dying on me’, he tells Changmin).

Finally, Yunho is done with his checking and fidgeting, and he smiles at Changmin. Changmin nods and sets a foot on the first step, watching the darkness for any movement. There is none, and he begins moving up them, Yunho close behind him. The flashlight clicks on, throwing a pale light over the hallway. Changmin rolls his eyes and flicks a switch to turn on the hallway light.

“Oh,” Yunho says sheepishly. He switches the flashlight off.

Changmin heads slowly down the hallway, peering into each room.

Everything seems fine- he doesn’t get it. Even so, he knows they are here, somewhere. The house still has an oppressive, heavy atmosphere, and a familiar feeling of dread edges his mind. The air is cold and stale, seeping through his hoodie.

He pulls back into the hallway, where Yunho is examining some knick-knacks on the endtable.

“I can’t find them,” Changmin says. “It’s like they’re scared- I don’t know why...”

Yunho flashes an understanding smile at him, and Changmin finds himself oddly self-conscious.

“Sometimes getting something to happen when you want to show someone is the most frustrating part. It’s easier when you’re alone-” Yunho cuts himself off and his gaze sharpens on something over Changmin’s shoulder. Changmin turns to see what he’s looking at, and has trouble figuring it out, until a slight movement catches his eye. The pull string hanging from his attic ceiling hatch sways, like a breeze is flowing past.

Changmin would like to say he’s horrified, but that would imply he didn’t live with the bastards for two months. He’s used to their shit.

Yunho takes Changmin’s wrist in his hand.

“Don’t go up there,” he says, voice surprisingly serious. His entire attitude is no-nonsense now, and he leads them back to the landing. Changmin looks back at the attic hatch. It looms at the end of the hallway. He hears a single whisper.

‘Brown eyes.’

That’s where they are.

Yunho finally settles Changmin on the couch and wordlessly kneels next to his backpack, pulling at something. Changmin watches him, confused.

“We’re going to spend the night down here, maybe they’ll come out, maybe they won’t,” Yunho says in a distracted way. “Do you have pillows and blankets?”

“We’re waiting down here? But they’re in the attic, it’s obvious-”

Yunho turns to Changmin and grabs his arm, pressing something into his hand.

“Please. Please don’t go up there, Changmin. Okay?”

Yunho’s eyes are pleading, and Changmin feels his face get warm.

“Uh...okay.”

When Yunho smiles and lets go to page through his notebook, Changmin opens his fingers and finds a tiny bell. It’s a golden ball with sunflowers on it’s surface, and it jingles loudly when it moves. He recognizes it as the noise Yunho’s backpack made.

“Bells are extremely good for protection, or distraction. They clear the air, and the sound acts as a good tether to reality,” Yunho says, still looking through his notes. He looks up suddenly, and points to Changmin’s hand. “That’s really special to me. It was a gift from a friend, but they passed away. It’s my luckiest charm.”

“Are you sure you want to give this to me?” Changmin asks, feeling awkward.

“Absolutely. It’s not mine to begin with, you know?”

Changmin finds that he’s not sure what he should say to that, and decides to go get some blankets before he embarasses himself.

Luckily, the linen closet is in the living room, right under the stairs, well within Yunho’s field of vision. Changmin makes a sort of double nest on the couch, and Yunho ends up mimicking him, on the other end. They talk about whatever crosses their mind as the sun sets, golden light finally shining through the windows and glancing off their hair and skin. Yunho asks Changmin about what he does at the studio, and Changmin manages to get out of singing something for Yunho.

He finds out that Yunho was training to be a firefighter, before the victims- both alive and dead- started getting to him. Apparently whatever is left of a soul after burning to death is not pleasant, according to Yunho. Changmin is quiet as Yunho describes the smell of burnt, dead skin following him home.

Changmin suddenly realizes that for the first time in months, he’s relaxed. It’s a bit of a shock, he’s legitimately having a good time, and the tension in his shoulders is conspicuously absent. He finds himself laughing, of all things, genuine and carefree.

“So, is there anyone special in the picture?” Changmin asks after a long swig of his drink. It’s honest curiosity- someone like Yunho can’t be free. There’s no way someone hadn’t snatched him up. He’s completely different from moody, brooding Changmin; cheerful, attractive, well-rounded...

Yunho laughs and shakes his head.

“No...no, not at the moment. It’s kind of hard to find someone when I’m so busy, with...well, this. I help people. It’s enough for now. Besides, no one seems to believe me when I give them the full disclaimer, you know? Until they see it for themselves and leave. It’s not...it’s not easy.” Yunho’s smile dims slightly.

Changmin frowns, and taps a nail against his bottle.

“Ah...don’t take it personally. You’re...” ridiculously good looking? “a great guy, you just haven’t found the right girl, one that won’t give up because of some bumps in the night. She’ll come along.”

Yunho looks up with an odd expression, like Changmin just told a funny but inappropriate joke.

“She probably won’t.”

It throws Changmin off for a second, and suddenly he gets it.

“Oh, you’re...? Sorry, I, uh...” Changmin stammers, realization dawning on him.

Well this is dangerous. Now it’s suddenly too close to hope, and Changmin feels a familiar sense of despair. He can honestly say he didn’t expect that. He’s even more surprised he was stupid enough not to notice.

“Yup. It’s not a big deal, right?” Yunho sounds distant suddenly, like he’s preparing for the worst.

“No, no, I’m just-” pleasantly surprised? Ecstatic because you’ve made me feel at home for the first time since forever? Stupidly hopeful? Massively frustrated because I don’t have the energy for you to just waltz in now?

Changmin bites his lip.

Yunho must take it as repressed disapproval, because his expression shutters before he snorts and looks away.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to make a move on you or anything,” he jokes, but there’s a bitter edge to it.

Now Changmin feels awful, but he can’t seem to get the words out, or stop twisting his trembling fingers in his lap.

This is stupid, you idiot. Someone has literally fallen into your life, he’s perfect, you’re lonely, do something, do anything, what. are. you. afraid. of-

Changmin can only stare. He’s terrified. He’s more scared of the amazing person in front of him than the things in the attic. Yunho looks back at him, concern taking over his features.

“Changmin? Are you okay?” he asks, frowning.

Changmin exhales shakily, trying to calm himself down.

“Sorry, I just...I don’t feel good.”

Nervousness laces through his bones, freezing them while burning his skin. He knows he is being incredible irrational- Yunho didn’t say anything that even hinted at something more. But now familiar fear drips icy into Changmin’s stomach, and he wants to simultaneously hold something and crush something. His pulse is fluttering and buzzing fills his ears.

This is why Changmin is alone.

Twenty minutes later, Yunho’s coaxed Changmin to lay his head on Yunho’s lap. Yunho is patting a cool towel on Changmin’s forehead. Changmin feels dazed and hollow, the intensity of his panic having ebbed away. He stares up at the ceiling, dark now that daylight has faded.

He has to hand it to Yunho- this feels nice. Even after Changmin probably made an idiot of himself with his stupid neurosis, Yunho handled it as well as he probably handles everything else. Calm, in stride.

“I don’t really like people,” Changmin blurts out into the comfortable silence.

Yunho shifts and looks down at Changmin, eyebrow raised.

“Oh?” he says.

“Yeah. Everytime...everytime I’ve dated, I just...” Changmin closes his eyes, shifting his faces towards Yunho’s stomach. He internally berates himself for being a tool, for making this about his weird social dysfunction, and inability to date and interact like a normal person. He thinks it must be so awkward for Yunho, but Changmin’s running on auxiliary circuits- one thought at a time, and none of them translate to anything beyond filling up his lungs.

“You seemed okay before. Is this agoraphobia?” Yunho asks, brushing some of Changmin’s hair from his face.

“No. I don’t know. It’s not crowds or talking or anything that gets me, it’s...ah, the potential? The hope. When they might want to stay.” Changmin idly messes with a thread on the couch. “The commitment. Is terrifying. The ambiguity.”

Yunho seems to think about this.

“So...if you like someone...it gets your hopes up? And they’ll leave. But it also scares you. That they’ll depend on you. You’ll be trapped. You want to leave before they do.”

Changmin opens his eyes, and nods.

“Yes.”

Yunho runs a finger along Changmin’s jaw.

“You like me enough that it scares you?”

Warmth seeps into Changmin’s face and he knows he’s blushing, but he nods again.

“And...the more someone seems like they’d fit into your life, the more restricted you feel.”

Changmin swallows. He feels like he should just tell Yunho he’s amazing and beautiful and leave now, just to get it out of his system. Yunho knows what Changmin’s playing at, he’d have to be a complete moron not to at this point.

“And you think I’d fit in perfectly.” Yunho is smiling down at him now. Changmin just scrunches his eyes shut again, face tense with worry.

He almost dies when Yunho runs a hand lightly over his burning face, sliding over his eyelids and across his cheekbones.

“You’re blushing. Pretty,” Yunho murmurs. Then he sighs.

“The first thing I noticed about you is that you seem very lonely, Changmin.” Yunho’s fingers stop at his collarbone, then he takes hold of Changmin’s shoulders and digs his thumbs in, massaging in small circles.

Changmin’s breath hitches, then he shakes his head.

“I’m just alone. Not lonely. Not much.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being alone,” Yunho says. “But being lonely...that’s why they’ve targeted you. Because there’s room for them.”

Changmin doesn’t reply. Yunho keeps massaging his shoulders with both hands. They move to his neck, then his jaw, Changmin’s mouth falling slightly ajar with the pressure. Finally they come to circle lightly on his temples. He drifts off into a doze, the relaxing motions of Yunho’s hands rendering him unable to think of anything else.

It’s pitch black when Changmin jerks awake. He sits up abruptly, and something falls to the floor with a jingle. He reaches down and grabs the little bell, clenching his fist around it. Yunho’s gone, and Changmin swallows down his initial panic and reaches out to Yunho’s spot on the couch. It’s still a little warm, so Changmin assumes that Yunho’s just taking a piss or something. He still feels a little fluttery, but he ignores it and stands, stretching. His bones pop happily into place. Yunho might be doing well as a freelance ghost therapist or whatever, but he should seriously consider becoming a masseuse.

Changmin wanders into the kitchen, seeking a drink for his dry mouth. It’s only when he’s standing in front of the open fridge, wasting electricity, when he feels a sudden jag of awareness. He’s being watched. He whirls around, ready to tell Yunho off for being a creeper, but stops short when he’s faced with an empty kitchen.

He’s suddenly on alert. A shuffling noise comes from somewhere in the house. Changmin slowly goes to the kitchen door, staring at the staircase. He can’t see the landing from his position, so he walks silently closer.

It’s tempting to whisper ‘Yunho?’, but Changmin’s afraid of the response, or lack thereof, that might solicit.

He emerges onto the landing, darkness crowding around him. When he looks to the end of the hall, his stomach drops.

The hatch to the attic hangs open like a gaping maw. He doesn’t move, frozen. A pale face hangs in the dark hole, staring back at him with a wide grin.

‘Brown eyes has come to play.’

The face pulls back into the darkness and vanishes. Changmin can hear the chorus of whispers, a hostile cacophony of ‘brown eyes’ and ‘little doe’ and ‘come up, kill you, he won’t love you like we do’. He’s petrified, trembling in the beginnings of a cold sweat.

There’s no stopping his footsteps as he edges closer, and a thread of sheer terror pulls on his heart.

The attic hatch looms closer, and Changmin feels his eyes water, brimming with tears. They’re beckoning him like revolting sirens, drawing him in and running their bruised hands through his hair. The worst part is, he’s starting to believe them. Yunho will leave, no matter what he promises now. He’s probably already gone. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again. They are the only ones who love him unconditionally, benevolently, they want to cherish him and he’ll never be lonely if he just comes into the attic-

Suddenly, Changmin hears a harsh jingle and is pulled back to the present. He looks at his feet, and sees the bell on the floor. It’s several seconds before he realizes in horror that he’s right below the attic hatch, in front of the ladder.

“CHANGMIN!”

A pair of hands emerges from the inky blackness at the same time something tugs him backwards, into a warm, solid body. Changmin twists in a brief struggle, before he realizes he’s face to face with Yunho. Yunho drags him back to the stairs, and they drop, sitting on the top step. Yunho hugs Changmin tightly, and Changmin can feel that he’s shaking almost as much as himself.

“Yunho...Yunho...” Changmin can’t manage to form a sentence, and settles for slapping lightly at Yunho’s back. “I’m okay- I’m fine,” but he’s freezing now, like he just jumped into a lake of ice. The darkness clings to him like a sticky residue.

Yunho rubs his hands down Changmin’s shoulders and arms. It starts warming Changmin up, and he turns to look down the hall. Yunho grabs his face, though, and forces him to keep looking at him.

“Just. Please. Stay right here. Stay with me,” Yunho says, pleading. “You need to relax, and just focus on me. Just stay here.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Changmin mumbles. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, not without you. You’re amazing, you’re safe now.”

“Yeah,” Changmin says, swallowing and gathering his bearings. He looks up at Yunho.

“Can you stay with me?” Changmin asks impulsively. “Like...not, move in, or anything, but...can...do you want to...”

He decides he’s terrible with words right now and just leans in, kissing Yunho.

Yunho isn’t moving, and Changmin thinks maybe this is a mistake, that he’s wrong, until Yunho’s thumbs stroke his cheekbones and tilts his head a little. Everything slides into place and Changmin has never felt quite as...well, not alone. He can feel it in his heart, and he can feel it in the house, and it spreads through every room and hallway like a great, unfurling flower.

He is home.

Changmin wakes up before dawn, limbs tangled with Yunho’s. He extracts himself from Yunho’s arms and pulls on his hoodie. The stairs creak as he heads to the second story, and then he’s finally standing below the attic hatch. Yunho follows shortly after, smoothing a hand along his rumpled shirt, and they climb the little steps. The attic is empty and gorgeous, the dust subduing everything in a pale wash of light from a large window. Yunho takes a seat against a rafter, gesturing for Changmin to sit next to him, and they watch the sun as it rises in the East.

Changmin rarely oversleeps, but today, he finds himself shoving a toothbrush in his mouth while trying to get his shoes on his feet. He nearly ends his life stumbling on the top step before catching himself on the banister. The smell and sound of frying bacon wafts up from the kitchen, absolutely wasted on him as he spits his toothpaste into the kitchen sink.

“That’s gross,” Yunho cheerfully comments, not bothering to turn from the stove until Changmin is passing by him. He hooks an arm around Changmin’s waist and snares him, kissing him once on the lips. “Ugh, toothpaste.”

“Ugh, bacon breath,” Changmin grumbles breathlessly. “Can I go, please? Late, late.”

“Yoochun won’t mind. You seem excited. Busy day?” Yunho asks, keeping Changmin against him as he pokes the bacon around with the spatula.

“Yes, I have a really interesting project and I’d like to go start it, so I can finish it faster, so I can come back and deal with you. Are you free tonight?”

“I have a few appointments coming over earlier. Need some help with their bad luck. But no, tonight is open so far.” Yunho plucks a piece off the pan and holds it out for Changmin, who bites it.

“Any time for me?” Changmin asks, chewing the bacon and grimacing.

“If you have time for me, I guess I can pencil you in. What is the nature of your concern?”

“I have a ghost. Attractive, but he keeps burning all the bacon and it’s pissing me off.”

Yunho laughs, and shoves Changmin away.

“Go to work, please. We need money for more bacon. I can’t pay for all of your food, you eat too much,” Yunho says, returning to his extra-crispy bacon.

Changmin checks his cellphone, and hisses a curse under his breath.

“Okay, bye, I’ll see you tonight!” he says in a rush, giving Yunho an awkward one-armed hug around his neck and running out of the kitchen.

Nowadays, Changmin is busy. Very busy. Between work, personal projects, and a fairly ridiculous boyfriend who tends to drop by at the worst (and best) possible times, he's out of the house a lot. And when he is home, he's busy savoring a moment of peace, or savoring a different sort of peace, that comes with getting to know someone who seems like a whole new form of life.

He might live alone, but the house is far from empty. It's filled with something- enthusiasm, exuberance, and maybe, a tiny bit of actual, real love. The kind that fills up your body, overflowing and spilling everywhere, so your house is stuffed with it. There is no room for anything else.

This came out sort of ...weird? Oh well! I wanted to try writing spooky Homin!