dig me a grave (but i won't lay in it alone)
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing I guess idk)
Characters: Yixing, Sehun (maybe a pairing eventually idk)
Length: 3k
Summary: Yixing's been seeing ghosts for as long as he can remember, but not everyone's the same way. Fill for this prompt.
“You dig graves for a living?” Minseok’s nose wrinkles, lips curled in mild disgust. “But why?”
“Someone’s got to do it,” Yixing tells him mildly.
Minseok toys with his straw. “I guess so, but why you?”
“Why indeed,” Lu Han says, rolling his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been asking him for, oh, the past four years, but all he gives me is-” He stops and gestures dramatically at Yixing, waiting for him to pick up the statement.
Yixing only laughs. “Why not me?” He returns, and Lu Han mouths along mockingly.
“I don’t know, you just… don’t really seem the type,” Minseok admits as he pokes a fry into his ketchup. “I mean, doesn’t it get to you?”
“Doesn’t what get to me?” Yixing asks, although he knows what’s coming.
“All that death? Like,” he pops the fry into his mouth, swallowing it before he continues, “think about it. All of your customers are preparing to die, you know? And then they do and wow, this person you met is six feet underground in a grave you dug yourself. That doesn’t bother you?”
“Not to mention all of the dead bodies,” Lu Han tags on with a shudder. “I will never understand how you can deal with that. The place must be so fucking haunted.”
“Well, it is a graveyard,” Yixing chuckles amiably.
Lu Han visibly pales, and Yixing swears he can hear Minseok try to muffle a snort.
“Really, though, Lu Han, they’re just dead bodies. Nothing’s going to jump out at me, I promise. But yeah, no, I’m not bothered by it,” he says lightly. “The death. It’s just how it is, you know? One day they’re there, the next they’re gone. It’ll be the same for us. Can I lift a fry?”
“Go for it,” Minseok says weakly, looking a little disturbed. “I’m just gonna head to the bathroom for a sec, I’ll be right back.”
Yixing ignores the reaction, too used to it to be bothered, and smiles brightly at him instead. “Thanks!”
“Did you really have to creep him out like that?” Lu Han glances at Minseok’s retreating figure before leaning forward and hissing under his breath. “Like I know that you love the work that you do and all, God only knows why, but do you remember that most people really aren’t into that whole ‘hey, you’re still alive and kicking right now, but wait! You could get hit by a car or something and I’ll be the one digging your grave tomorrow’ deal, right?”
“To be fair, he asked.” Yixing points out before biting down on his acquisition.
“Can you make up a more normal answer? Like, I don’t know, ‘oh, it’s depressing, but hey, it pays the bills?’ Something that doesn’t fucking give people existential crises?”
Yixing chuckles. “You’re only angry because you think he’s cute, otherwise you’d be laughing right now.”
Lu Han looks absolutely indignant. “That’s absolutely untrue, Zhang Yixing!”
“What is?” Yixing mocks him, “That you’d find his reaction hilarious, or that you’re convinced he’s your one true love?”
“Both!” Lu Han snaps back at him.
“Oh, really now? Because I seem to remember just last week that when I gave the same spiel to Baekhyun, you were just about howling with laughter afterwards-”
“Fine, fine!” He concedes, but a pause later insists, “And Minseok is not my one true love.”
“No, but you think he’s cute.”
“Yeah, alright, I’d like a shot with him, okay?” he admits grudgingly. “You’re lucky I love you so much, or else I wouldn’t put up with this crap.”
Yixing gives him a genuine smile. “I know.”
And he really, truly, does, because when you can see ghosts, you’re lucky to have anyone in your life who won’t look for excuses not to be around you or suggest you see a psychologist.
You’re even more lucky if that person becomes your best friend.
“But then again,” Lu Han says, leaning back in his seat with a grin, “Your weirdness does make for a good conversation topic. Having a friend who claims he can see ghosts. People love to hear about nutjobs.”
Yixing scoffs.
You’re lucky to have a person like that, unless that person’s name is Lu Han, apparently.
Best friend, he decides, is the wrong way to describe him. Closest friend who also happens to be a huge asshole is probably more accurate.
---
Yixing can’t remember how long he’d been able to see spirits. He wasn’t born with the ability, he thinks, but it’s also possible he just couldn’t tell the living from the dead at the time.
He’s sitting on one of the stone benches in front of the mausoleum, lantern glowing at his side. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh, waiting, although it’s been quiet so far. It dawns on him that it might be one of the nights he actually has to patrol the graveyard. He’d kind of been hoping it was one of the nights that the dead would come to him, but it looks like he’s out of luck, so he reluctantly pushes himself up from the bench, picking up his lantern in the process, and he’s about to wander towards some of the newer graves, except -
Except there’s a boy relaxedly standing in between him and the worn dirt path, watching him, looking for all the world like he’s not in a graveyard in the middle of the night.
Yixing stares at him, instantly annoyed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
“Oh, nothing at all,” the boy says casually, “just visiting all the deceased, you know?” He walks over to a nearby headstone and pats it almost affectionately, smirking. “The dead need love too, you know.”
“Oh, shut up,” Yixing snaps at him. It’s always irritating when brats break into the graveyard, and even more so when they’re insolent.. “It’s one thirty in the morning. What is this? One of those high school ‘tests of courage’ or something? Get out before I call the police.”
The boy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, alright, Dampé, calm down. I was awake, and bored, bored to death, as you might say, and I thought I might check out this haunt, say hi to you. Wasn’t expecting you to be so spirited, though.”
Yixing lets out a pained noise. This kid has gone from bad to worse.
“Seriously?” He chokes out.
“Gravely,” the boy replies, nodding.
For a moment, Yixing says nothing, only shaking his head. Then,
“If you do not get out of here I think I might actually punch you.”
The boy huffs at him and crosses his arms. “Wow, rude. And here I was, trying to be friendly.”
“Get out. And tell your friends not to send anyone else. I will call the cops if I see any more of you.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” the boy snorts. “First of all, I’m here alone. Secondly, why can he,” he gestures to behind Yixing, “be here if I can’t?”
Another one? This is not Yixing’s night. “Okay, you people have to stop this bullshit before I-” Halfway through turning around, he realizes something’s not quite right.
The “he” approaching from behind him is looking at him and the boy nervously, stopped at the edge of the light from his lantern.
Yixing moves the lantern towards him and the light shines through.
“Oh, shit,” the boy swears quietly from behind him. “Thought he was still kicking.”
There’s another. There’s another, but that’ll have to wait, because -
The ghost’s mouth drops. “‘Thought he was still kicking?’ Excuse me?”
Yixing lets out a forced chuckle. “Sir, if you’ll wait just a moment, then I’ll explain.” He spins back to the boy, grabs his arm and tugs him close, and leans. “You,” he whispers sharply, “keep your damn mouth shut.” He pushes the boy back away from him as he turns back to the ghost. “Um, yes, as you may have gathered from this… idiot, you’ve, ah, passed away. I’m very sorry.”
The ghost stares at him in disbelief. “But that’s impossible.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.” Yixing says gently. “Tell me, what’s the last thing you remember?”
“I…” The ghost takes a deep breath, an old habit of the living, and thinks. “I got off from work. Took the usual way home. But...” His brow scrunches in concentration. “I can’t remember getting there. Last thing I remember is the intersection. And then...”
“And then it all goes black?” Yixing fills in.
“Yeah. Black.” The ghost nods. “Like I was falling asleep or something.”
“Falling out of physical consciousness,” Yixing tells him.
“I - what?”
“That was the moment you passed away. They all say it’s like falling asleep,” he says sympathetically. “Let’s find your place of rest. You, on the other hand,” Yixing barks at the boy, “You stay right here until I get back.”
The boy looks exasperated, but drops himself onto the bench Yixing was previously occupying all the same. “Whatever you say, Dampé.”
“What the hell does that even - stop calling me that. I’ll be right back.” Yixing says shortly before turning back to the ghost. “Come along, then.”
“Yeah, alright, whatever.” The boy just makes a face and spreads out on the bench as Yixing leads the ghost down the path. He glares up at the sky. “I thought it was clever,” he mutters to himself.
---
Twenty minutes later, the boy hears shoes tapping on the pavement, and he sits up lazily. “Hey. About time you got back.”
“You’re still here?” Yixing asks, incredulous.
“You told me to stay,” he reminds the gravedigger.
“I was kind of hoping you’d leave anyway.”
“Sorry, no luck,” the boy says cheerfully.
Yixing sighs. “As usual. Whatever, just… come with me.”
“Ooh, where are we going? Your gravedigger hut?” The boy jokes, trailing behind Yixing. At least, Yixing thinks he’s joking. That being said,
“Yes. That’s exactly where we’re going.”
The boy snickers, then sombers. “Wait, really?”
“Yep.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. Watch your step.”
“Watch my step? Why - holy SHIT!”
There’s a thump from behind Yixing, and he sighs again as he turns around and squats over the open grave. A whine floats up from below. It’s pretty pitiful, and Yixing would be lying if he said it wasn’t the least bit satisfying to hear. He laughs, and the boy glares up at him. “Yeah, I dug that today.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I told you to watch your step.”
“I thought I was just going to trip over a root or something! Not into a grave!”
“Your problem, not mine.”
The boy lets out a pathetic whimper. “I think my ass is broken.”
“You fell six feet. Your ass isn’t broken.”
“Well it feels like it is,” the boy grumbles, pushing himself up from the ground and trying to brush the dirt off his clothes. “Shit, my mom’s going to kill me.”
“That’s what you get for going out past your bedtime, kid.”
“Shut up, I’m not a kid. You don’t look that much older than me. Now will you help me out of here or will I have to sleep out here?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty. Now help? Please?”
Yixing looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugs. “Nah, I’ll just leave you here.”
The boy looks horrified. “What?”
“Twenty’s plenty old enough to be left alone for a few hours,” Yixing tells him, a grin on his face. Putting this kid in his place is going to be great. “See you tomorrow morning!”
“What, no, no no no! Please don’t! Please!”
It’s here that Yixing learns that the boy isn’t quite as tough as his sharp-tongued shell would suggest.
And by “not quite as tough” he means “not tough at all,” because there are now choked crying sounds coming from the grave. Yixing raises his lantern over it and yeah, the kid’s in tears.
He actually kind of feels bad now.
“Um,” he says unsurely, “I was just kidding. I’m sorry.” He puts the lantern down next to him and offers the boy his hands. “Here, I’ll pull you out.”
The boy looks at him for a moment, hesitant, before reaching for Yixing’s arms, and a minute later, the boy is lying face down in the grass.
“Graves are awful,” he whimpers, clutching to the grass for dear life.
Yixing chuckles. “Come on, get up. We’re going to the gravedigger hut, remember?”
“I’m still not entirely convinced you’re not kidding about that,” the boy mutters as he pulls himself up from the ground, attempting to dust off his jeans in the process. “You’re stronger than you look.”
“I dig graves for a living.”
“Point taken.”
“And the gravedigger hut is totally real, by the way.”
“Okay, wait, hold on,” the boy stops abruptly, grabbing Yixing’s shirt. “You’re gonna have to tell me your name, because I am literally two seconds away from calling you ‘Dampé’ again, and I really don’t need to spend the night in that grave.”
“You’re already out of it,” Yixing points out.
The boy shrugs. “Honestly? I’d probably fall back in. And I’m not about to piss you off again so you actually abandon me this time, so. Name?”
“What’s yours?” Yixing chuckles, pulling the boy along.
“I asked you first.”
“Too bad,” Yixing says simply.
The boy grumbles a bit behind him (still clinging to his shirt, Yixing notices), but gives up. “I’m Sehun.”
“Zhang Yixing.”
“Oh.” The boy is quiet for a moment. “Nice to meet you, Zhang Yixing.”
“Nice to meet you too, Sehun. Although next time you decide to meet someone, after midnight in a graveyard is probably not the best setting.”
“Yeah,” Yixing can swear the grip on his sleeve tightens, “I noticed that.”
---
His surname is Oh. He’s a dance student at the local arts university (Yixing won’t let himself admit he’s jealous), but he lives at home and commutes (“It’s a lot cheaper”). His birthday is April 12th, 1994, and, Yixing learns, he’s afraid of ghosts.
“I didn’t used to be,” Sehun admits, Yixing-supplied mug of hot chocolate warming his hands. “But then I actually saw one and then I kept seeing them and fuck, how do you do it?”
“I’m used to it,” Yixing shrugs. “I’ve been seeing them for as long as I remember. They’re harmless, most of them. And they need help. But that begs the question.” He sets himself down across the table from Sehun, his own cup of tea clacking lightly as he places it on the table. “Why are you at a graveyard in the middle of the night if you’re scared of ghosts?”
Sehun stares down into his drink, embarrassed. “I was looking for you, actually,” he mutters.
Yixing’s first instinct is to blame Lu Han.
“I heard a hyung in one of my classes talking about how his friend thought he could see ghosts, so I thought that maybe…” Sehun clears his throat. “Maybe that friend could help.”
“Damn it, Lu Han.” Yixing mutters darkly.
Sehun blinks at him. “Who?”
“The hyung you heard, probably. My best friend. Allegedly.”
“Allegedly?” Sehun’s lips curve into a smirk.
“Allegedly.” Yixing confirms, then waves away the question. “Why at night, though? You could have come during the day, and it would have been fine.”
“You might not have believed me during the day,” Sehun admits after a moment. “And I might not have believed you. I can’t see them when it’s bright out, you know? So if you were seeing them and I wasn’t, you might’ve actually been as crazy as your friend was saying.”
“Thanks,” Yixing says dryly.
“Don’t mention it,” Sehun grins, reaching over and patting his hand.
Yixing makes a dissatisfied noise. “Just drink your hot chocolate already.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The smarmy smile is still on Sehun’s face as he sips the drink.
For a while, they sit in silence, until Sehun sets his mug down on the table, now empty.
“Hey, hyung?”
“It’s only been an hour and you’re calling me hyung already?” Yixing teases.
“Yeah,” Sehun laughs, “ghost whisperer hyung. Can you do me a favor?”
“Depends. Are you ever going to call me ghost whisperer hyung again?”
“It’s that or Dampé.”
Yixing makes a mental note to find out what the fuck “dampé” means. “Or I could shove you back into a grave.”
Sehun lets out another laugh, this one slightly more high pitched. “Or I could call you Yixing hyung. That is also a viable option, now that I think about it.”
“I like that one,” Yixing tells him with a kind smile. “Anyway, shoot. What is it?”
Privately, Sehun thinks that smile is horribly misleading.
Publicly, he reopens his mouth to ask the favor. “Can I crash here for the night? Like I wouldn’t ask, but if I go home I’m going to wake up my parents, and I think Jongin’s busy, and I know Tao is, and I don’t really have anywhere else to go, and mostly I really just don’t want to walk back through the graveyard alone so can I please sleep here?”
Yixing agrees without missing a beat. “I don’t see why not.”
Sehun blinks. “Really?”
“Really. Just take a shower first, then you can take the bed. I’ll grab you a change of clothes, although they’ll probably be a little small on you.” He gets up and begins to walk towards his dresser when he feels a tug on his sleeve again.
“Hyung?” Sehun says quietly.
“Yeah?”
The grip tightens. “Can we share the bed?”
Yixing considers objecting, but…
Sehun looks honestly scared, eyes wide and teeth biting down on his lips, and Yixing realizes that sleeping in a house on the edge of the graveyard isn’t that much better than trekking back through it.
“Yeah,” Yixing says gently. “That’s fine. Take your shower first, alright?”
“Alright. Thanks, hyung. I mean it.” Sehun’s smile is small but resplendent.
(An hour later, with Sehun wrapped tightly around his waist, Yixing comes to regret his decision.)
Characters: Yixing, Sehun (maybe a pairing eventually idk)
Length: 3k
Summary: Yixing's been seeing ghosts for as long as he can remember, but not everyone's the same way. Fill for this prompt.
“You dig graves for a living?” Minseok’s nose wrinkles, lips curled in mild disgust. “But why?”
“Someone’s got to do it,” Yixing tells him mildly.
Minseok toys with his straw. “I guess so, but why you?”
“Why indeed,” Lu Han says, rolling his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been asking him for, oh, the past four years, but all he gives me is-” He stops and gestures dramatically at Yixing, waiting for him to pick up the statement.
Yixing only laughs. “Why not me?” He returns, and Lu Han mouths along mockingly.
“I don’t know, you just… don’t really seem the type,” Minseok admits as he pokes a fry into his ketchup. “I mean, doesn’t it get to you?”
“Doesn’t what get to me?” Yixing asks, although he knows what’s coming.
“All that death? Like,” he pops the fry into his mouth, swallowing it before he continues, “think about it. All of your customers are preparing to die, you know? And then they do and wow, this person you met is six feet underground in a grave you dug yourself. That doesn’t bother you?”
“Not to mention all of the dead bodies,” Lu Han tags on with a shudder. “I will never understand how you can deal with that. The place must be so fucking haunted.”
“Well, it is a graveyard,” Yixing chuckles amiably.
Lu Han visibly pales, and Yixing swears he can hear Minseok try to muffle a snort.
“Really, though, Lu Han, they’re just dead bodies. Nothing’s going to jump out at me, I promise. But yeah, no, I’m not bothered by it,” he says lightly. “The death. It’s just how it is, you know? One day they’re there, the next they’re gone. It’ll be the same for us. Can I lift a fry?”
“Go for it,” Minseok says weakly, looking a little disturbed. “I’m just gonna head to the bathroom for a sec, I’ll be right back.”
Yixing ignores the reaction, too used to it to be bothered, and smiles brightly at him instead. “Thanks!”
“Did you really have to creep him out like that?” Lu Han glances at Minseok’s retreating figure before leaning forward and hissing under his breath. “Like I know that you love the work that you do and all, God only knows why, but do you remember that most people really aren’t into that whole ‘hey, you’re still alive and kicking right now, but wait! You could get hit by a car or something and I’ll be the one digging your grave tomorrow’ deal, right?”
“To be fair, he asked.” Yixing points out before biting down on his acquisition.
“Can you make up a more normal answer? Like, I don’t know, ‘oh, it’s depressing, but hey, it pays the bills?’ Something that doesn’t fucking give people existential crises?”
Yixing chuckles. “You’re only angry because you think he’s cute, otherwise you’d be laughing right now.”
Lu Han looks absolutely indignant. “That’s absolutely untrue, Zhang Yixing!”
“What is?” Yixing mocks him, “That you’d find his reaction hilarious, or that you’re convinced he’s your one true love?”
“Both!” Lu Han snaps back at him.
“Oh, really now? Because I seem to remember just last week that when I gave the same spiel to Baekhyun, you were just about howling with laughter afterwards-”
“Fine, fine!” He concedes, but a pause later insists, “And Minseok is not my one true love.”
“No, but you think he’s cute.”
“Yeah, alright, I’d like a shot with him, okay?” he admits grudgingly. “You’re lucky I love you so much, or else I wouldn’t put up with this crap.”
Yixing gives him a genuine smile. “I know.”
And he really, truly, does, because when you can see ghosts, you’re lucky to have anyone in your life who won’t look for excuses not to be around you or suggest you see a psychologist.
You’re even more lucky if that person becomes your best friend.
“But then again,” Lu Han says, leaning back in his seat with a grin, “Your weirdness does make for a good conversation topic. Having a friend who claims he can see ghosts. People love to hear about nutjobs.”
Yixing scoffs.
You’re lucky to have a person like that, unless that person’s name is Lu Han, apparently.
Best friend, he decides, is the wrong way to describe him. Closest friend who also happens to be a huge asshole is probably more accurate.
---
Yixing can’t remember how long he’d been able to see spirits. He wasn’t born with the ability, he thinks, but it’s also possible he just couldn’t tell the living from the dead at the time.
He’s sitting on one of the stone benches in front of the mausoleum, lantern glowing at his side. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh, waiting, although it’s been quiet so far. It dawns on him that it might be one of the nights he actually has to patrol the graveyard. He’d kind of been hoping it was one of the nights that the dead would come to him, but it looks like he’s out of luck, so he reluctantly pushes himself up from the bench, picking up his lantern in the process, and he’s about to wander towards some of the newer graves, except -
Except there’s a boy relaxedly standing in between him and the worn dirt path, watching him, looking for all the world like he’s not in a graveyard in the middle of the night.
Yixing stares at him, instantly annoyed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
“Oh, nothing at all,” the boy says casually, “just visiting all the deceased, you know?” He walks over to a nearby headstone and pats it almost affectionately, smirking. “The dead need love too, you know.”
“Oh, shut up,” Yixing snaps at him. It’s always irritating when brats break into the graveyard, and even more so when they’re insolent.. “It’s one thirty in the morning. What is this? One of those high school ‘tests of courage’ or something? Get out before I call the police.”
The boy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, alright, Dampé, calm down. I was awake, and bored, bored to death, as you might say, and I thought I might check out this haunt, say hi to you. Wasn’t expecting you to be so spirited, though.”
Yixing lets out a pained noise. This kid has gone from bad to worse.
“Seriously?” He chokes out.
“Gravely,” the boy replies, nodding.
For a moment, Yixing says nothing, only shaking his head. Then,
“If you do not get out of here I think I might actually punch you.”
The boy huffs at him and crosses his arms. “Wow, rude. And here I was, trying to be friendly.”
“Get out. And tell your friends not to send anyone else. I will call the cops if I see any more of you.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” the boy snorts. “First of all, I’m here alone. Secondly, why can he,” he gestures to behind Yixing, “be here if I can’t?”
Another one? This is not Yixing’s night. “Okay, you people have to stop this bullshit before I-” Halfway through turning around, he realizes something’s not quite right.
The “he” approaching from behind him is looking at him and the boy nervously, stopped at the edge of the light from his lantern.
Yixing moves the lantern towards him and the light shines through.
“Oh, shit,” the boy swears quietly from behind him. “Thought he was still kicking.”
There’s another. There’s another, but that’ll have to wait, because -
The ghost’s mouth drops. “‘Thought he was still kicking?’ Excuse me?”
Yixing lets out a forced chuckle. “Sir, if you’ll wait just a moment, then I’ll explain.” He spins back to the boy, grabs his arm and tugs him close, and leans. “You,” he whispers sharply, “keep your damn mouth shut.” He pushes the boy back away from him as he turns back to the ghost. “Um, yes, as you may have gathered from this… idiot, you’ve, ah, passed away. I’m very sorry.”
The ghost stares at him in disbelief. “But that’s impossible.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.” Yixing says gently. “Tell me, what’s the last thing you remember?”
“I…” The ghost takes a deep breath, an old habit of the living, and thinks. “I got off from work. Took the usual way home. But...” His brow scrunches in concentration. “I can’t remember getting there. Last thing I remember is the intersection. And then...”
“And then it all goes black?” Yixing fills in.
“Yeah. Black.” The ghost nods. “Like I was falling asleep or something.”
“Falling out of physical consciousness,” Yixing tells him.
“I - what?”
“That was the moment you passed away. They all say it’s like falling asleep,” he says sympathetically. “Let’s find your place of rest. You, on the other hand,” Yixing barks at the boy, “You stay right here until I get back.”
The boy looks exasperated, but drops himself onto the bench Yixing was previously occupying all the same. “Whatever you say, Dampé.”
“What the hell does that even - stop calling me that. I’ll be right back.” Yixing says shortly before turning back to the ghost. “Come along, then.”
“Yeah, alright, whatever.” The boy just makes a face and spreads out on the bench as Yixing leads the ghost down the path. He glares up at the sky. “I thought it was clever,” he mutters to himself.
---
Twenty minutes later, the boy hears shoes tapping on the pavement, and he sits up lazily. “Hey. About time you got back.”
“You’re still here?” Yixing asks, incredulous.
“You told me to stay,” he reminds the gravedigger.
“I was kind of hoping you’d leave anyway.”
“Sorry, no luck,” the boy says cheerfully.
Yixing sighs. “As usual. Whatever, just… come with me.”
“Ooh, where are we going? Your gravedigger hut?” The boy jokes, trailing behind Yixing. At least, Yixing thinks he’s joking. That being said,
“Yes. That’s exactly where we’re going.”
The boy snickers, then sombers. “Wait, really?”
“Yep.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. Watch your step.”
“Watch my step? Why - holy SHIT!”
There’s a thump from behind Yixing, and he sighs again as he turns around and squats over the open grave. A whine floats up from below. It’s pretty pitiful, and Yixing would be lying if he said it wasn’t the least bit satisfying to hear. He laughs, and the boy glares up at him. “Yeah, I dug that today.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I told you to watch your step.”
“I thought I was just going to trip over a root or something! Not into a grave!”
“Your problem, not mine.”
The boy lets out a pathetic whimper. “I think my ass is broken.”
“You fell six feet. Your ass isn’t broken.”
“Well it feels like it is,” the boy grumbles, pushing himself up from the ground and trying to brush the dirt off his clothes. “Shit, my mom’s going to kill me.”
“That’s what you get for going out past your bedtime, kid.”
“Shut up, I’m not a kid. You don’t look that much older than me. Now will you help me out of here or will I have to sleep out here?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty. Now help? Please?”
Yixing looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugs. “Nah, I’ll just leave you here.”
The boy looks horrified. “What?”
“Twenty’s plenty old enough to be left alone for a few hours,” Yixing tells him, a grin on his face. Putting this kid in his place is going to be great. “See you tomorrow morning!”
“What, no, no no no! Please don’t! Please!”
It’s here that Yixing learns that the boy isn’t quite as tough as his sharp-tongued shell would suggest.
And by “not quite as tough” he means “not tough at all,” because there are now choked crying sounds coming from the grave. Yixing raises his lantern over it and yeah, the kid’s in tears.
He actually kind of feels bad now.
“Um,” he says unsurely, “I was just kidding. I’m sorry.” He puts the lantern down next to him and offers the boy his hands. “Here, I’ll pull you out.”
The boy looks at him for a moment, hesitant, before reaching for Yixing’s arms, and a minute later, the boy is lying face down in the grass.
“Graves are awful,” he whimpers, clutching to the grass for dear life.
Yixing chuckles. “Come on, get up. We’re going to the gravedigger hut, remember?”
“I’m still not entirely convinced you’re not kidding about that,” the boy mutters as he pulls himself up from the ground, attempting to dust off his jeans in the process. “You’re stronger than you look.”
“I dig graves for a living.”
“Point taken.”
“And the gravedigger hut is totally real, by the way.”
“Okay, wait, hold on,” the boy stops abruptly, grabbing Yixing’s shirt. “You’re gonna have to tell me your name, because I am literally two seconds away from calling you ‘Dampé’ again, and I really don’t need to spend the night in that grave.”
“You’re already out of it,” Yixing points out.
The boy shrugs. “Honestly? I’d probably fall back in. And I’m not about to piss you off again so you actually abandon me this time, so. Name?”
“What’s yours?” Yixing chuckles, pulling the boy along.
“I asked you first.”
“Too bad,” Yixing says simply.
The boy grumbles a bit behind him (still clinging to his shirt, Yixing notices), but gives up. “I’m Sehun.”
“Zhang Yixing.”
“Oh.” The boy is quiet for a moment. “Nice to meet you, Zhang Yixing.”
“Nice to meet you too, Sehun. Although next time you decide to meet someone, after midnight in a graveyard is probably not the best setting.”
“Yeah,” Yixing can swear the grip on his sleeve tightens, “I noticed that.”
---
His surname is Oh. He’s a dance student at the local arts university (Yixing won’t let himself admit he’s jealous), but he lives at home and commutes (“It’s a lot cheaper”). His birthday is April 12th, 1994, and, Yixing learns, he’s afraid of ghosts.
“I didn’t used to be,” Sehun admits, Yixing-supplied mug of hot chocolate warming his hands. “But then I actually saw one and then I kept seeing them and fuck, how do you do it?”
“I’m used to it,” Yixing shrugs. “I’ve been seeing them for as long as I remember. They’re harmless, most of them. And they need help. But that begs the question.” He sets himself down across the table from Sehun, his own cup of tea clacking lightly as he places it on the table. “Why are you at a graveyard in the middle of the night if you’re scared of ghosts?”
Sehun stares down into his drink, embarrassed. “I was looking for you, actually,” he mutters.
Yixing’s first instinct is to blame Lu Han.
“I heard a hyung in one of my classes talking about how his friend thought he could see ghosts, so I thought that maybe…” Sehun clears his throat. “Maybe that friend could help.”
“Damn it, Lu Han.” Yixing mutters darkly.
Sehun blinks at him. “Who?”
“The hyung you heard, probably. My best friend. Allegedly.”
“Allegedly?” Sehun’s lips curve into a smirk.
“Allegedly.” Yixing confirms, then waves away the question. “Why at night, though? You could have come during the day, and it would have been fine.”
“You might not have believed me during the day,” Sehun admits after a moment. “And I might not have believed you. I can’t see them when it’s bright out, you know? So if you were seeing them and I wasn’t, you might’ve actually been as crazy as your friend was saying.”
“Thanks,” Yixing says dryly.
“Don’t mention it,” Sehun grins, reaching over and patting his hand.
Yixing makes a dissatisfied noise. “Just drink your hot chocolate already.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The smarmy smile is still on Sehun’s face as he sips the drink.
For a while, they sit in silence, until Sehun sets his mug down on the table, now empty.
“Hey, hyung?”
“It’s only been an hour and you’re calling me hyung already?” Yixing teases.
“Yeah,” Sehun laughs, “ghost whisperer hyung. Can you do me a favor?”
“Depends. Are you ever going to call me ghost whisperer hyung again?”
“It’s that or Dampé.”
Yixing makes a mental note to find out what the fuck “dampé” means. “Or I could shove you back into a grave.”
Sehun lets out another laugh, this one slightly more high pitched. “Or I could call you Yixing hyung. That is also a viable option, now that I think about it.”
“I like that one,” Yixing tells him with a kind smile. “Anyway, shoot. What is it?”
Privately, Sehun thinks that smile is horribly misleading.
Publicly, he reopens his mouth to ask the favor. “Can I crash here for the night? Like I wouldn’t ask, but if I go home I’m going to wake up my parents, and I think Jongin’s busy, and I know Tao is, and I don’t really have anywhere else to go, and mostly I really just don’t want to walk back through the graveyard alone so can I please sleep here?”
Yixing agrees without missing a beat. “I don’t see why not.”
Sehun blinks. “Really?”
“Really. Just take a shower first, then you can take the bed. I’ll grab you a change of clothes, although they’ll probably be a little small on you.” He gets up and begins to walk towards his dresser when he feels a tug on his sleeve again.
“Hyung?” Sehun says quietly.
“Yeah?”
The grip tightens. “Can we share the bed?”
Yixing considers objecting, but…
Sehun looks honestly scared, eyes wide and teeth biting down on his lips, and Yixing realizes that sleeping in a house on the edge of the graveyard isn’t that much better than trekking back through it.
“Yeah,” Yixing says gently. “That’s fine. Take your shower first, alright?”
“Alright. Thanks, hyung. I mean it.” Sehun’s smile is small but resplendent.
(An hour later, with Sehun wrapped tightly around his waist, Yixing comes to regret his decision.)