Chapter Text
"And all I loved, I loved alone."
It’s not a rare thing for Beomgyu to have an abundance of problems (mostly created by himself), and not nearly enough solutions. However, he can definitively say that killing Choi Yeonjun would solve at least twelve of them.
“We have been over this every single time,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He doesn’t enjoy raising his voice (slight untruth— correction: he doesn’t enjoy raising his voice in anger), but Yeonjun never fails to get those decibels skyrocketing along with his blood pressure. “Stop sitting in Soobin’s chair!”
The boy being yelled at does not look impressed with the fact that he’s being yelled at, nor does he seem to feel that it’s justified.
“It’s not like he’s going to use it,” Yeonjun scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“I most certainly am,” Soobin says. He stands behind his stolen seat, looking miffed. His protest goes ignored.
It’s a minor nuisance, but Beomgyu still gets peeved when he encounters a road bump. He has it all planned out: sophomore year is the perfect time to get more involved on campus, to branch out and actually leave something to show for himself.
The issue with that is that he isn’t particularly outstanding academically. Nor is he especially athletic. There are a couple of other things that label someone as a distinguished student, but he doubts he falls under any of those categories.
No, Beomgyu’s most unique quality that sets him apart from everyone else is one that tends to go largely unrecognized. It’s that he can see what most other people can’t: the dead.
He first discovered it at a frighteningly young age; long before he could fully conceptualize death, but definitely old enough for it to be concerning that he was talking to people who simply weren’t there.
When Beomgyu was still regularly conversing with his aunt who had passed on two weeks prior, his mother stopped thinking of his imaginary friends as “cute” and immediately scheduled him for therapy.
It didn’t help, of course. But eventually, Beomgyu came to understand what it was that was happening to him. He came to understand death, and loss, and grief.
He sees them everywhere: on campus, out on the streets, wandering about with desolate expressions. Souls with nowhere to go, no clear path to walk.
They’re the ones with an impediment, some vestige of unresolved matters left on earth. He always tries to help them in any way he can, or at least the ones that allow him to approach. Some are too far gone, all but faded to transparency.
Sometimes it’s hopeless to even try. These are the ones that tend to stand out to him the most— the lost souls. The ones that have stuck around too long, on the brink of fading forever. In such cases, it would be more convenient for Beomgyu to mind his own business, more practical even.
But meddling has always been his forte.
And so, when the forms were posted for students to petition to organize their own clubs on campus, he was hit with a rather spectacular idea: The Lost Souls Club.
But as expected with Beomgyu’s ideas, plans, and various parades, Yeonjun always comes stomping along to rain on all of them.
“This should not be this difficult,” Beomgyu continues his tirade, his voice climbing an octave with each sentence. “We are a four person club. We have four chairs. I’m at the head of the table, Huening Kai is to my left, Soobin is to my right, and you are over there. ”
He indicates said position with a particularly forceful jab of his finger.
The meeting place Beomgyu has managed to reserve for their meetings is cramped, a small room at the back of the library with a single square table that just barely manages to seat their quartet comfortably.
There are boxes piled up against the walls and stacks of textbook orders lying around, waiting to be sorted. The lack of lighting alone is dreary enough, in addition to the musty air perfumed with the scent of dust and old books. All in all, it isn’t the luxury he would have wanted, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Beomgyu had tried to bribe the librarian into letting him use the nicer, much larger storage room by offering to relay a message to her clingy dead ex-boyfriend— but for some reason, that hadn’t gone over too well.
“What’s up with assigned seating, anyway?” Yeonjun asks indignantly. Beomgyu wonders why he’s like this. True, they both have made it their life’s goal to annoy each other to death. But at least when Beomgyu is annoying, he’s cute.
“Kai doesn’t seem to have any problem following the rules,” he says emphatically. “And the point is that the seating is according to our respective positions.”
“Yeah, and I’m secretary.”
“You’re not,” Beomgyu tells him, point blank. “You’re treasurer.”
Yeonjun balks. “Treasurer of fucking what money? Who is secretary, then?”
“Your club members don’t respect you very much, do they?” Soobin snickers, wiggling his eyebrows at Beomgyu.
“Shut up,” he yelps automatically, reaching for a nearby scrap of paper and balling it up to fling at his friend’s face. It sails right through his forehead.
“Ow,” Soobin says flatly.
“Do you even believe in what we’re doing?” Beomgyu screeches, shooting to his feet. “Do you even believe in the paranormal?!”
“Of course not,” Yeonjun says exasperatedly. “I literally just needed to be more involved in extracurriculars, and this is the only club with few enough members to guarantee me an officer position.”
“Your whole life is a sham, Choi Yeonjun,” Beomgyu flushes red, his voice booming. “How can you not believe in ghosts when Soobin is standing right there ?”
“Hello,” Soobin the ghost supplies helpfully. He gives a little wave.
Unfortunately, he’s as good as dead to the rest of them.
Literally.
Beomgyu doesn’t miss the look that’s exchanged between his two friends. Kai has been silent until now, watching the heated exchange with an expression that’s half amused, half concerned.
“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun begins, in that tone of voice which implies he’s about to receive a lecture that will go in one ear and out the other. “This really isn’t healthy.”
His face has softened, the previous annoyance melting into something that Beomgyu wants to recoil from: pity.
It’s no secret to him that Yeonjun thinks he’s insane. Beomgyu doesn’t exactly go out of his way to conceal his oddities, and the part where he’s constantly talking to his dead best friend whom nobody else can see could certainly be a red flag to some.
It didn’t stop Yeonjun from warming up to him eventually, but Beomgyu isn’t an idiot. As far as Yeonjun knows, there is no person named Soobin, nor has there ever been. He’s a figment of his imagination, an illusion created out of loneliness or desperation.
Not that Beomgyu minds. He’ll still vehemently advocate for the existence of Soobin and all the other souls who come and go, but he’ll allow Yeonjun to think that he’s crazy. It’s easier to convince him of than the truth, anyway.
Beomgyu had met Yeonjun early last year when they were both still freshmen. He was the one who had taken initiative, stalking up to him without much finesse.
“My friend Soobin thinks you’re cute,” he said, foregoing an introduction. Yeonjun had bright, cotton-candy pink hair at the time, half of it pulled into a little ponytail at the top of his head. Even Beomgyu, who usually walked to class with his head in the clouds, had spotted him from a mile away.
The boy blinked at him slowly, before turning in a small circle to glance around. “Who’s Soobin?”
Right. Beomgyu always forgot this part.
“He’s right here, but he’s dead so you probably can’t see him,” he explained helpfully. “He’s a catch though, just take my word for it.”
“The fuck, Gyu?” Soobin groaned beside him. “It was just a passing comment, I’m not trying to marry the dude.”
Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, looking smug. “If you wanted my number that bad, you could’ve just said so.”
Beomgyu wrinkled his nose, turning to the soul. “His personality is a bit of a turn off anyways, isn’t it?”
The boy immediately started spluttering, while the ghost merely shrugged. “He seems cool.”
Beomgyu smiled at Yeonjun triumphantly. “Soobin says you’re cool, so we can be friends.”
He gaped. “Who says I want to be your friend?”
“You do, trust me. Life is so much more boring when I’m not around,” he assured, sparing a teasing glance at Soobin. “And so is death.”
“You’re interesting,” Yeonjun muttered under his breath. But he held his hand out for Beomgyu’s phone, and entered in his contact info. The rest was history.
Sure, he had been weirded out by Beomgyu at first, and that had never gone away really. But somehow they became inseparable, and within a few months they were already discussing rooming together for the upcoming year.
When Yeonjun’s goldfish died, he’d sarcastically, but somewhat hopefully asked if Beomgyu could still see the poor thing. He’d had to explain that no, he couldn’t, because fish went straight to heaven. (He had no idea whether this was true or not— but he’s never seen the soul of a goldfish swimming around… So.)
Throughout their friendship, Yeonjun’s skepticism never died down. So naturally, when Beomgyu’s plans for his club started coming together, he’d made it his life’s mission to gently coerce his roommate to join.
Surprisingly, he had hardly resisted at all. Now it’s clear to Beomgyu that he’s had ulterior motives all along.
Yeonjun being a non-believer— that he can respect. But Soobin slander? Absolutely not.
“He’s not…” Yeonjun bites his lip. “He’s not here , Beom. Not physically.”
“Okay?” he huffs. “Am I supposed to stop hanging out with my best friend just because I can’t give him a hug?”
“No, you’re supposed to stop hanging out with him because he’s supposedly dead. ”
“And you’re basically dead inside, but I like you just fine,” he snaps back.
“Kai?” Yeonjun looks desperately to the other boy. “Can you help me out here?”
The boy’s head snaps up, taken aback at his sudden involvement. “I don’t know…” he says with a sheepish smile. “This is the Lost Souls Club, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have joined if I wasn’t a tiny bit of a believer.”
Yeonjun groans, burying his face in his hands. “I thought it was some sort of soul searching group, like meditating to find ourselves or something. I didn’t think we’d be ghost hunting .”
“We’re not hunting them,” Beomgyu says, unimpressed. “We’re helping them. And I literally told you all of this before.”
“You tell me a lot of things, Gyu. It’s a wonder I can retain even a fraction of it.”
Beomgyu is starting to reconsider some of his life choices.
Ever since he died, Soobin’s been helping him take cases here and there— ghosts they happen to run into who just need a little nudge in the right direction towards finding closure. But with just the two of them, it’s impossible to reach them all in time.
He wasn’t exactly sure what he was thinking when he formed the club; maybe that having a whole team would make things easier, boost productivity.
It’s now occurring to him that having two members who can’t even see said souls won’t be of much use at all, but moral support is always appreciated, right?
Huening Kai? Excellent moral support.
Choi Yeonjun? No comment.
“I’ll have to figure out some use for you two,” he says decisively. “For now, this meeting is adjourned.” He claps his hands together, glancing around hopefully. “Now. Who wants to invite me over for lunch and feed me?”
“Why don’t you get Soobin to feed you,” Yeonjun drawls sarcastically.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Junie. Soobin can’t cook to save his life.”
“Poorly worded,” Soobin deadpans. “And wholly untrue.”
“Don’t you two live together?” Kai comments in amusement, raising an eyebrow at his friends.
“Yeah, but he never shares his food and he just stays in his room all day,” Beomgyu whines.
“You can come over to my place then, Beomie,” Kai chirps. “I have the room to myself and some leftover bibimbap.”
At this, Beomgyu perks up in curiosity. Unlike him and Yeonjun, who now live in an on-campus apartment, Kai is housed in one of the traditional dorms which are usually comprised of single or double rooms with a bunk-bed.
“Huh? I didn’t know you got a single.”
“I didn’t,” the boy says. “My roommate never showed up.”
Yeonjun and him look at each other in astonishment. They’d both had their go at living in the dingy little dorm rooms freshman year, being forced to share the barely liveable space with a complete stranger.
For someone’s roommate to simply not show up— well, to a college student, it’s the equivalent of winning the lottery.
“What do you mean?” Beomgyu balks. “Like they backed out of the lease?”
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s still on the contract,” Kai hums. “Management was being pretty vague about it when I asked, but apparently there was some accident or something.”
“A happy accident,” Beomgyu cheers. “You get the space all to yourself.”
“What if the kid is fighting for his life or something,” Yeonjun scolds, smacking him on the arm. “Be respectful.”
“There is no one more respectful of the dead than me,” Beomgyu reminds him. “So whichever way it goes, I’ll look forward to meeting him eventually.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Soobin lets out a wheeze of laughter.
“Meanwhile,” he continues, grinning at Kai, “I will take you up on that lunch offer.”
“Ok!” his friend says brightly, standing up to gather his things. He pauses, turning to Beomgyu. “By the way,” he adds, a note of enthusiasm creeping into his voice, “when are we going to actually start club activities? Are there any souls around that need our help?”
“Likely not,” Yeonjun mutters. Beomgyu kicks him under the table.
Yeonjun doesn’t know what he’s talking about. They’re always lurking around in the shadows, always present. And Beomgyu has an inexplicable, tingling feeling that very soon, someone is going to find their way to him.
“Don’t worry, Huening Kai.” He reaches over to gleefully tousle his friend’s hair, tuning out Yeonjun’s pained yelp. “I’m sure one will come to us eventually.”
➴➵➶➴➵
They’re walking back from their shared composition class when Yeonjun hits him with it.
The sun is already beginning to set, the clouds kissed with a soft peachy hue. It’s Beomgyu’s favorite time of day, and he finds himself spacing out while dragging his feet, his guitar bumping lightly against his back with every step.
“So,” Yeonjun says, peering at him sideways through his bangs. “I was thinking.”
Beomgyu turns to beam at him hopefully. “About letting me borrow the Prius?”
Unlike Yeonjun, Beomgyu hadn’t brought his car with him to campus, mostly because a parking permit there cost an arm and a leg. Therefore, he has to rely on the good will of others if he wants to make any significant trips.
By the look on Yeonjun’s face, you’d have thought that Beomgyu had just asked him for his kidney. “That is the last thought that would ever cross my mind, ever. ”
Disappointed but not surprised, Beomgyu turns back forward. “Then I think you should stop thinking,” he says, picking up his pace out of pettiness. “You’re not doing a very good job of it.”
Yeonjun easily catches up to him despite his efforts to walk ahead. Beomgyu has an inkling that whatever his friend is intent on telling him won’t necessarily be something he wants to hear, and his suspicion is immediately proven correct.
“My friend Heeseung is hosting a pool party at his house in a couple of weeks,” Yeonjun begins. “And I think it would be great if you could come. He’s pretty good looking, and I think the two of you would hit it off well.”
“Hold on—” Beomgyu stops short. He doesn’t know what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. “Are you trying to set me up?!”
“Don’t say it like that! I’m setting you up in a good way, I’m setting you up with a cute boy,” Yeonjun whines.
“ I’m a cute boy,” he retorts. “I don’t know what your standards are.”
“He’s almost as cute as me.”
“So low,” Beomgyu mutters in response to his own inquiry. Yeonjun’s nose wrinkles in offense.
“You thought I was hot when you first met me, so don’t play hard to get now.”
“Soobin did. I may be the voice of his opinions but they don’t represent my own,” he replies hotly.
“Anyway,” Yeonjun continues, ignoring him, “I think you and Heeseung are alike in a lot of ways. He’s kind of reserved at first, but once he opens up, he’s really fun to be around.”
Beomgyu doesn’t understand what he’s getting at, he really doesn’t. Of all the different methods of bugging him that Yeonjun has utilized in the past year, playing Cupid is definitely a new one.
“He sounds absolutely lovely, but I’m going to have to decline,” he says resolutely. “For two reasons.”
“And those are?”
“None of your business.”
Yeonjun narrows his eyes, his lips already parted with a rebuttal. Beomgyu caves before he can even get a word in, knowing the other boy will nag him till the end of time before letting him off the hook.
“It’s the middle of fall,” he decides on an excuse. “Who in their right mind would want to swim?”
“The pool is heated. And it’s not even cold these days.”
“I don’t like pools.”
“Since when?”
“I’m allergic to water.”
“Then at least come to meet Heeseung,” Yeonjun pleads. “He could be good for you. I just want to see you happy, even if it’s not—” He abruptly cuts himself off, his cheeks coloring slightly. Suddenly, he seems to be having a hard time looking Beomgyu in the eye.
“I know you think I’m lonely and possibly mentally ill,” he sighs, taking his friend’s shift in behavior as a sign of frustration, “but neither of those things are true.”
“I know you’re not lonely,” Yeonjun’s quick to reassure. “But a little romance never hurt anyone.”
“Which brings me to my second reason—” he purses his mouth— “I’ve sworn off love.”
“You mean like a vow of celibacy, or…?” The grin is audible in his voice.
“Are you a pervert, Choi Yeonjun?” Beomgyu yelps, scandalized. “I mean exactly what I said— that for as long as I live, I will never fall for anyone ever again.”
Yeonjun’s smile falls when he takes in Beomgyu’s expression: lips pressed into a thin line, brow furrowed, eyes averted.
He can tell that it bothers his friend, when he gets serious like this. It’s not that he’s never serious— but it’s a mode he mostly slips into in private, when he’s alone to wallow in his own thoughts.
Around other people, he’s loud Beomgyu. Silly Beomgyu. Has an imaginary friend called Soobin, might be clinically insane Beomgyu. It’s rare that he allows that cover to slip, and he knows it must be jarring when it does.
He can feel Yeonjun’s eyes boring into the side of his face, can practically hear him conjuring up a million increasingly ridiculous theories about what his whole deal is.
“I appreciate it,” he reaches up to squeeze Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I really, really do. But I don’t need your help, Junie. I’m fine as I am.” He tries his best to sound convincing.
The sky has settled into indigo now, and around them, the night stirs awake. Figures sway along the sidewalk, brushing against him, through him. For now, he pays them no mind.
“Alright,” Yeonjun replies hesitantly, after searching his eyes for a long minute. “I trust you.”
As they continue the rest of the walk in a not quite tense, not quite comfortable silence, Beomgyu wonders why it’s easier to lie to someone else than to be honest with himself.
➴➵➶➴➵
At three in the morning Beomgyu falls asleep while binging Itaewon Class with Soobin, and at 3:32 a.m, he’s promptly awoken by a shrill screeching noise shattering his eardrums.
“Fire, fire ,” a calm robotic voice intermittently chimes in.
He shoots upright with a gasp, grabbing his chest and patting himself down as if to check that he hasn’t burst into flames. Beside him, Soobin is propped up on his elbows, looking around curiously.
“You’re still here?” Beomgyu asks, before frowning at the computer that’s still sitting open between them atop the blankets. “You finished the episode?!”
“Just because you couldn’t stay awake, doesn’t mean I have to be left hanging,” Soobin scoffs. “Besides, it’s not like I can pause it.”
“Ughhh,” he clamps his hands over his ears, wincing as the alarm continues to go off. “What the fuck.”
“Sounds like you have somewhere to be,” Soobin says smugly. He appears to be entirely unbothered by the noises, which Beomgyu guesses makes sense. As someone with a physical, breathing form, however, the racket is contributing to a steadily growing migraine.
He kicks the blankets aside with a long groan, sliding on a pair of sweatpants and shoving a hoodie on over his head. Almost as soon as he steps out into the living room, Yeonjun also emerges in a tank and boxers, looking around groggily.
“You think some idiot was smoking again, or did one of your ghosts pull the fire alarm?”
“Don’t be immature,” Beomgyu snorts, before catching Soobin’s eye. He hadn’t noticed the boy walking out with him, but then he supposes stealth comes easily when you can walk through walls and whatnot.
He narrows his eyes. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
“I’ve been with you this whole time,” Soobin exclaims, looking hurt.
“Don’t forget your keys,” Yeonjun reminds him as they gather up their things to evacuate the apartment.
“How are you gonna be reminding me of anything, when you’ve forgotten to even put clothes on?” he says, looking him up and down.
“I’m dressed, though?” Yeonjun frowns, looking down at himself.
“Sure,” Beomgyu snorts, eyeing his exposed arms and legs. “We’ll see how you feel when we’re standing around for hours in the cold waiting for them to let us back in.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Gyu,” Yeonjun rolls his eyes. “It’ll be half an hour, tops. If anything, it’s just a drill.”
“I don’t think drills usually run at three in the morning,” Soobin comments offhandedly.
“Try telling him that,” Beomgyu mutters back as Yeonjun heads towards the door. He glances at the soul. “Are you coming?”
“Nah,” Soobin wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like crowds. They’re a bit intrusive.”
Beomgyu can imagine. He doesn’t think he’d enjoy the feeling of a horde of people pushing their way literally through him either.
Out in the hallway, there’s already a stream of disgruntled students heading towards the emergency exit. Beomgyu and Yeonjun mindlessly follow the rest of the horde, their movements still weighed down with exhaustion.
The first bite of cold air smacks Beomgyu in the face as they finally exit the building, making his teeth chatter. Beside him, Yeonjun has turned into a human vibrator.
“I fucking told you,” Beomgyu scoffs, side-eying his friends violently trembling body. The movement of the crowd nudges them along, everyone vaguely remembering the instructions to gather at the parking lot across the street in the case of an evacuation.
“Who said I’m cold?” Yeonjun slurs through lips that are on their way to turning blue. Beomgyu’s about to throw some sarcastic remark back, when something catches his eye.
Off in the distance, a lone figure is drifting aimlessly around, appearing unperturbed by the surge of people rushing by. In fact, he seems completely unaware of his surroundings, shuffling around the lawn in his own isolated little bubble.
Beomgyu, who can never simply mind his own business, immediately latches onto his target. Making a split second decision, he quickly shrugs his hoodie off, tossing it carelessly at Yeonjun’s head.
“Here,” he mutters, “I’ll be right back.”
Before Yeonjun can say anything or even remove the garment completely obscuring his vision, Beomgyu jogs off in the direction of the mysterious stranger.
The shrieking of the fire alarm grows dimmer the farther away from the building he gets, and he feels himself relaxing now that he’s extracted himself from the claustrophobia-inducing crowd.
The freezing dampness of the grass numbs his feet, which he’d simply shoved into flip flops in his haste. Trudging across the lawn, he tentatively approaches the boy. Only when he’s a mere few feet away is his presence finally noticed.
The boy’s head snaps up, staring at him with a deer-frozen-in-headlights type of gaze.
Beomgyu is immediately taken aback. He’s caught off guard by just how innocent this kid looks, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. And his eyes— Beomgyu can’t help but notice how… pretty his eyes are. Wide and almost doll-like, with a hint of wonder glinting off of them.
“Hello?” Beomgyu calls out to him gently, as if he really is an animal that’ll be spooked by any sudden movements. “Are you lost?”
“I—” the boy frowns, glancing around. “I’m not sure. I don’t really know where I’m supposed to be.”
“Ah,” Beomgyu nods in understanding. “First fire alarm here?”
The boy shakes his head. “I’ve never been here before.”
Well that’s a bit more unexpected. “Oh!” he exclaims. “Are you a freshman? What’s your name?”
“Taehyun,” the boy says, looking wary. “Kang Taehyun.”
“I’m Beomgyu!” he returns brightly. “Listen, if you’re confused I’d be happy to—”
He’s interrupted by a hand suddenly latching onto his arm out of nowhere. With a jolt, he turns and is met with the sight of Yeonjun’s annoyed face.
“Beom, what the hell were you doing running off randomly?” his roommate huffs. “If you keep wandering around I’m gonna lose you.”
Stunned, Beomgyu looks between him and his new stranger, back and forth. Yeonjun makes no move to address their third companion.
“You go on ahead,” he finally says slowly. “We’re supposed to meet at the lot, right? I’ll be there in a few.”
Yeonjun gives him a weird look, before turning away with a shrug. “Suit yourself.”
He’s lucky that Yeonjun is used to his random whims, and he carefully waits as his friend bursts into a sprint to catch up with the disappearing group.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Beomgyu whirls on the boy.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says eagerly, unable to control his excitement. He’s surprised that he hadn’t been able to tell right away, but then again, they were all different.
“Tell you what?” Taehyun frowns.
He clasps his hands together, bouncing a little on his toes. “That you’re dead!”
The boy’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“You should have said something,” Beomgyu squeals, probably more delighted than he should’ve been. “I would have been way more helpful from the start.”
“I don’t know if you’re playing a joke on me, or if you just have issues,” Taehyun scowls, “but I’m very much alive, thank you.”
Beomgyu squints. “No you’re not.”
“Yes I am. ”
He tilts his chin up in a challenge. “How do you explain the way Yeonjun didn’t even acknowledge you, then?”
“I just assumed that your friend is rude,” Taehyun says curtly.
Beomgyu gapes. “Yeonjunie is not—” he hesitates for a second, thinking better of the bold declaration he’s about to make. “Yeonjun is not rude to people who aren’t me, ” he amends.
“Seems pretty rude to not even spare a glance at someone standing right there,” Taehyun smirks.
“That’s because you’re dead ,” Beomgyu emphasizes once again, positive that he’s gotten the upper hand now. He’s right, he knows he is. It took him a while to notice, but he’s never wrong about things like this.
What he also fails to notice, however, is the growing irritation clouding over Taehyun’s face. If he’d noticed, he would’ve toned it down, soothed the mounting temper. He would maybe try to dodge.
Instead, the boy punches him.
It’s a light hit to the shoulder, his hand not even balled all the way up into a proper fist. Obviously it doesn’t land the way it intended to, the smack mostly passing through him uninhibited as expected.
But what Beomgyu doesn’t expect is to feel himself tilt back slightly from the impact, like a little nudge from a gust of wind. As if there had actually been some energy, some exertion of force onto his body.
He freezes.
No soul he’s ever known has been able to manipulate or interact with the living world. Surely not any of the faded and weak lost souls, not even Soobin. That part is definitely new.
He looks at Taehyun in wonder, his heart picking up speed in his chest.
“Huh.”