Chapter Text
Roughly one and a half months after Hongin and Wonshik moved into the nondescript, two-storey house in the rather sleepy little neighbourhood not too far from the busy downtown core, the oddness began.
“You forgot to turn the hall light off again yesterday night,” Wonshik said that morning with a yawn, shaking the stubble off his razor into the sink with sleepy motions.
“Did I?” Hongbin frowned, pausing his combing for a moment to think. Wonshik had crashed upstairs at midnight, snoring into his pillow as Hongbin pulled the blanket over him, and then Hongbin had finished his work downstairs in the kitchen until one. Then came the usual routine of unplugging appliances, rinsing out his mug in the sink, turning the lights off as he went upstairs and lastly, bed.
“No, I’m sure I turned the lights off,” Hongbin said, giving his bangs a few extra sweeps before setting his comb down. “I always make sure to turn the lights off.”
“Really?” Wonshik asked, blinking at his reflection in the mirror. “Because when I got up to use the washroom at night, the hall light was on.”
“Are you sure you weren’t the one to turn it on, when you were half-asleep?” Hongbin said, squinting.
“I’m sure,” Wonshik mumbled, but his expression wavered a little and Hongbin laughed.
“Okay then, sleepyhead,” he said, and reached over to wipe the bit of shaving cream off the tip of Wonshik’s nose. “Whatever you say.”
“Hrmph,” Wonshik muttered, and he turned to face the mirror again, leaving Hongbin to add a bit of gel into his hair before grabbing his sports jacket off the toilet seat.
“Don’t forget to buy bread on your way home,” Wonshik called, and Hongbin gave him a quick wave before hurrying down the stairs.
“I don’t forget stuff as easily as you do!”
Wonshik snorted loudly, but Hongbin was already in the foyer of the house, checking his reflection one last time in the old ornate mirror hanging over the shoe rack. Then he was exiting the house, thoughts of work and groceries swimming in his mind as he started the car.
+
Hongbin worked at one of those tall, plain grey buildings in the city’s business district, where the offices smelt of cheap coffee and spilled printer ink and the musty carpets were a dull shade of dark green and murky blue. Wonshik, however, worked from home, in the modern, customized little office downstairs next to the living room. Hence, it made sense for him to start noticing the small things going wrong around the house.
“I’m telling you, it’s not because I keep dropping them behind the drawers,” Wonshik scowled, watching Hongbin carefully count the number of forks, spoons, and knives on the countertop. “Stuff’s just going missing.”
“That’s what you said about the chopsticks at our old flat, and guess where we found all of those before we moved,” Hongbin said, raising his eyebrow. Wonshik glared.
“It was an accident, Kong, I didn’t know there was a hole in the bottom of the drawer.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter, we got a new set of utensils from my parents when we moved here anyway,” Hongbin hummed. “Though there’s considerably less of everything from before, except for the spoons. We still have most of those.” He surveyed the cutlery laid out before him. “You think we have mice that are trying to build an army or something?”
“If they do, I hope they’re not gonna tie us down like Gulliver on that freaky island he ended up at,” Wonshik said fervently, and Hongbin laughed.
“You know, we probably just dropped it behind the drawer. Let me get the screwdriver and we can fish it all back out.”
“It better not be dusty or sticky,” Wonshik sighed, and helped Hongbin remove the panel on the bottom drawer. But when Hongbin pulled the piece of wood out, expecting to see all the utensils on the floor, there was nothing.
“That’s weird,” he frowned. “Where is it?”
“Can you get a flashlight?” Wonshik asked, so Hongbin fished his phone out of his pocket and turned on the torch. After a minute of shining the light at every available angle in the dusty space behind the drawers— still nothing.
“This is strange,” Hongbin said, and glanced at his boyfriend. Wonshik shrugged his shoulders, equally perplexed. “Did we leave everything in the dishwasher then?”
“Not possible, with the way you enjoy meticulously emptying and organizing things,” Wonshik said, and Hongbin elbowed him.
“Guess we’ll just have to eat everything with spoons for now,” he sighed. “I’m sure everything will show up eventually.”
+
They returned from dinner a their friends’ a week later; Hongbin felt pleasantly relaxed after some of Taekwoon’s delicious cooking and a beer or two, but Wonshik was just a step away from being totally drunk. His boyfriend was incredibly giggly, tipping over from time to time as Hongbin helped him into the house, pulled off his shoes, and sent him stumbling into the darkness of the living room for a quick lie-down on the couch.
“I’m gonna brew coffee,” he called, digging through their closet for hangers. “Try not to fall asleep before you’ve had some to detox.”
“Okay honey,” Wonshik sing-songed as he staggered away, but Hongbin had barely started towards the kitchen when he heard Wonshik suddenly yell in pain and fall over with a thud.
“Ow— shit!”
“Jesus, I’ve only left you alone for a second,” Hongbin sighed, turning on his heel back to the living room. “What did you do—”
He flicked the light on, and what he saw had him skidding to a halt.
Wonshik was sitting on the floor, cradling a bloody foot. A single shard of glass was stuck into the soft arch of his foot, and all around him were the rest of the broken pieces, sharp and glinting, scattered all around the coffee table. The glass had come from the broken picture frames lying on the floor, having been, apparently, swept off the table. The photos of the two of them on vacation, camping trips and at parties with friends were framed by broken glass, and wedged firmly into each picture were all the missing knives and forks they’d been searching for the week before.
For a moment, all Hongbin could do was stare in shock at the utter mess on the ground, at the sight of the prongs of the fork speared into his face and the point of the knife slashed over Wonshik’s figure until Wonshik’s groan of pain brought him back to his senses. He hurried to slip on a pair of shoes before rushing back to his boyfriend, helping him up onto the couch.
“What is this? What happened?”
“I dunno,” Wonshik said, looking horribly lost. “I was just heading over to the couch, like you told me to, but then I stepped on the glass and it hurt so much I fell over.”
“Don’t move your foot too much,” Hongbin instructed firmly. “I’m going to get you a towel to stop them bleeding and then I’m driving us back to Taekwoon and Jaehwan’s place so Jaehwan can take a look at that cut.”
“I hope I don’t need stitches,” Wonshik sighed heavily, letting Hongbin run into the kitchen for a towel. He dutifully held it to the wound as Hongbin swept up as much of the glass as he could while talking on speakerphone with Jaehwan, explaining the situation. Jaehwan was a paramedic and he was off-duty tonight; going to him for help would be faster than waiting in the ER. Once he ended the call, Hongbin bundled Wonshik up in a sweater, yanked a shoe on his other foot, and helped his boyfriend hobble out the door and back into the car. The pain had sobered Wonshik, but the shock seemed to have settled in instead. The older man shook as he sat in the passenger side, pulling listlessly at his sleeves.
“Where are you going?” he blurted out, when Hongbin made to head back into the house.
“Getting the car keys and setting the alarm,” Hongbin said, glancing back with an arched eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”
Wonshik shivered and gave him a nervous look. “Don’t go back inside.”
“Wonshik, I need to. The keys are on the staircase.”
“But—”
“It’s okay,” Hongbin said, ducking back into the car to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair. “I’ll be back in a minute. Everything’ll be fine.”
Wonshik seemed to struggle with words, but after a moment, he sagged into the seat, glancing up at the darkened upstairs window. “Just hurry,” he murmured, and Hongbin nodded, quickening his pace into the house. He yanked on a coat, picked up his jingling keys, and turned to set the passcode in the security system. He couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the living room, wondering how the mess had gotten there. Had someone broken in?
The mess in the living room seemed to tremble under his heavy gaze, at least until the alarm beeped and Hongbin had to made his exit. Still, he couldn’t help one last glance back, confusion making him wary.
The shredded photo of him and Wonshik on their anniversary under the gleaming silver of the knives and forks didn’t help alleviate that nagging feeling at all.
+
In the end, Wonshik didn’t need stitches, but Jaehwan had applied a bit of skin glue to hold the cut together and he was instructed to stay off his feet for at least two weeks. Thus, that meant a very bored Wonshik who ended up either confined to his office or the bedroom, but not the living room.
The living room made him uncomfortable, he’d told Hongbin when they were having dinner a few nights later.
“You were drunk,” Hongbin said matter-of-factly as he added seafood sauce to his rice. “And you stepped on glass in there. You’re just traumatized by the place.”
“No, it’s not just that,” Wonshik argued, scowling down at his foot. “I’m just... I feel uneasy, hanging around in the living room. It always feels like there’s something there.”
“Something like what?” Hongbin asked.
“Dunno,” Wonshik sighed, looking forlornly down at his dinner. “It just feels weird.”
“You sure you’re not coming down with a bug or something?” Hongbin asked, frowning. “You look kind of tired.”
“Didn’t sleep well last night,” Wonshik admitted. “I woke up once at four in the morning and couldn’t fall back asleep until seven. Then you were getting out of bed at eight, and woke me up again.”
“Sorry,” Hongbin said, reaching over to squeeze Wonshik’s hand across the table. “Maybe we should work on helping you fall asleep; then you might not get so paranoid.”
“Ha ha,” Wonshik said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I’m not paranoid.”
“Mhm, whatever you say,” Hongbin smirked. “Still, perhaps a bit of...strenuous bed activity might help you fall asleep faster.”
“Oh my god, you moron,” Wonshik groaned, but the adorable flush of red on his cheeks made the finger-scrunching embarrassment worth it. Hongbin grinned, curling his fingers around Wonshik’s hand, and waited for his boyfriend to answer.
“You’re doing all the work,” Wonshik muttered, pinning Hongbin with a pointed look, and Hongbin laughed out loud.
“I don’t mind,” he winked, and practically grinned when Wonshik turned even redder and proceeded to bury his face in his arms.
+
The next morning was a comfortable one, because Hongbin had woken up with his head pillowed on Wonshik’s bare chest and his legs tangled in his boyfriend’s. He didn’t have to go to work until the afternoon because of a board-wide meeting taking place that morning, and he’d just had several rounds of amazingly good sex the night before, so the pleasant feeling of complete relaxation was coupled with a sort of ache in his back. All in all, a typical morning after. Yawning, Hongbin sat up and tried to crawl out of bed, only to feel a sudden pressure around his middle that pulled him backwards onto the bed.
“Oi,” he said, turning on his side to look into his boyfriend’s sleepy expression. “I’m trying to get up.”
“I know,” Wonshik hummed, his voice deep and sleepy. “And I’m trying to keep you next to me.”
“Sweet of you,” Hongbin snorted, sliding his hand over Wonshik’s waist. “But I want to get up and brush my teeth, at least.”
“Later,” Wonshik whispered, shifting forwards to kiss him, and Hongbin allowed a moment of lazy, soft morning kisses until he pinched Wonshik’s hip and made him screech.
“I’ll be back,” he said cheerfully, and ignored Wonshik’s wounded noises as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door with his foot. He blinked at his reflection in the mirror: tousled hair, a few dark hickies on his neck and stomach, and what looked like a cut on the junction of his neck and shoulder.
Hongbin froze. A cut?
Spinning around, he turned his back and gaped in horror at his back. Scratch marks, deep enough to be just on the side of painful and red enough to look as though it’d bled, ran from the top of his right shoulder all the way down to the middle of his back. Very slowly, Hongbin reached behind him and prodded the cut, wincing a little as he did. It stung, but it was already starting to scab over. What the hell was this?
He didn’t know how long he stood in front of the mirror, just staring, but then he heard Wonshik shuffling around outside the bathroom, and Hongbin found himself opening the door for a lack of a better thing to do. How did one react, when they found scratches of that magnitude on their own back?
Wonshik was decent when Hongbin stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in his college sweats and an old t-shirt, arms flexing as he fixed the duvet and the sheets. Normally, Hongbin would scold his boyfriend for standing on his healing foot, but he found that he couldn’t form the words he wanted to say. Fortunately, Wonshik didn’t seem to notice his silence.
“Hey, Kong, did you get a nosebleed yesterday night?” Wonshik asked, and Hongbin stared. “There’s some blood on the pillowcase. If we wash them now we could still get the stain out.”
He could see why Wonshik wasn’t completely concerned; Hongbin used to get nosebleeds for no reason from time to time, but he was certain that this wasn’t the case anymore.
“I didn’t,” he said, and something about his voice made Wonshik stop fluffing the sheets to turn to him. “I think it was this,” he added quietly, and turned around.
He heard Wonshik’s shocked, sudden sharp intake of breath, and then his boyfriend was walking over, footfalls soft on the hardwood floors. He felt fingers touch the skin around the scratches, and Hongbin shuddered minutely. Wonshik stepped away instantly.
“Did I— was it— did I do that to you?” Wonshik whispered, and he sounded so horrified at the very thought that he could hurt Hongbin like this that it jolted him into action. He spun around and gave Wonshik and alarmed look.
“No! Of course not, how on earth could that be you?” he demanded. Wonshik swallowed hard.
“Who else could it have been?” he asked, and Hongbin frowned.
“There’s no way you could’ve scratched me this hard,” he insisted. “You’re not even the type to do something like that.”
“But...” Wonshik said, looking so shaken up that Hongbin couldn’t stop himself from walking forwards and enveloping him in a hug.
“It wasn’t you,” Hongbin said firmly. “I don’t know how this happened but I know for sure you’d never be this rough. Or do anything of the sort to me.”
“You... sound so certain. But how else can this happen?”
“Who knows,” Hongbin whispered, tightening his arms around Wonshik’s middle, and felt Wonshik’s tentative touch on his lower back, where the scratches did not reach. “Things have been weird lately.”
“No kidding,” Wonshik muttered, resting his chin on Hongbin’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment, and Hongbin couldn’t help but feel that the comfortable lull of the morning was punctured by the unwanted discovery. Now, they were both tense and a little worried.
“C’mon,” Wonshik said a moment later. “Let’s get some antiseptic on your back and see if we can salvage these sheets in the wash.”
+
It took another week or two, but suddenly, Wonshik decided to start working at the studio again.
This was both startling and disgruntling news, because Hongbin now had to drive and pick his boyfriend up from work every morning and evening. Not only did they both have to climb out of bed at an earlier hour, by the time Hongbin got around the minimalistic building Wonshik worked at in the entertainment stretch after work, it was often quite late.
“You hate the studio,” Hongbin said one night, frowning as Wonshik climbed into the car, shaking water out of his hair as the rain pelted down on them on that particularly wet evening.
“Yeah, I do,” Wonshik growled, tossing his messenger bag into the backseat. “It stinks of cigarette smoke and suck ups trying to kiss the producer’s ass all the time. Nobody ever does any work there.”
“Then why’d you stop working in the home office?” Hongbin asked, putting the gear in reverse. “They were perfectly okay with you composing at home, and you’re more comfortable there anyway.”
Wonshik muttered something, and Hongbin shot him a look as he pulled out of the lot and merged into the traffic.
“What was that?”
“I said I’m not comfortable working at home anymore,” Wonshik said, louder and grouchier, and Hongbin bit back a sigh. A tired Wonshik meant a grumpy Wonshik, and combined with the extra travel time and his own fatigue, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t say something he wouldn’t regret.
“Then what’s the problem with working from home?” Hongbin prompted, feeling like he was walking on thin ice without even knowing how he got to that point.
Wonshik lifted a shoulder, mouth turning downwards. “I don’t know how to describe it. I’m always tired when I start working. Nothing comes to mind when I try to write my lyrics or play a song. And I’m just uneasy all the time. Fidgety, like I’m not getting enough rest.”
“That’s because you aren’t getting enough sleep,” Hongbin pointed out. “I can still feel you tossing and turning in the bed at night.” You wake me up too, he doesn’t add, because it was an asshole thing to say, even if it was true.
“I can’t sleep,” Wonshik grumbled. “I just can’t do it. I feel like I’ve forgotten how.”
“How do you forget how to fall asleep? More often than not you forget how to wake up.”
“Funny,” Wonshik snapped. “Maybe you should try going to work on four hours of sleep and see how well you function then.”
“At the rate I’m shuttling you to and from work, I’m starting to get a feel of that,” Hongbin snarled in return, and Wonshik’s expression closed off instantly. The sudden burst of anger instantly fizzled out, and Hongbin bit his lip hard. He hadn’t meant to say that.
They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of cars zooming by and skidding through puddles as they went. They came to a stop before a red light, and Hongbin sighed lowly, watching the blurry colours of headlights waver past as the perpendicular cluster of cars started to drive.
“I’ll start taking the bus tomorrow,” Wonshik said quietly, and Hongbin’s heart twisted.
“Don’t be dumb,” he sighed, lowering his gaze. “I didn’t mean that.”
“No, I’m just inconveniencing you at this point,” Wonshik said, shaking his head. “I wish we could afford another car but this is all we have, and it’s not fair of me to suddenly ask you to change your whole schedule around just because I suddenly decided to change my routine.”
“We live together and we’re in a relationship together, you goof,” Hongbin said softly. “We’re supposed to learn how to revolve around each other. Plus, I don’t want you busing so late. I’ll drive you to work.”
“How about this,” Wonshik said, shifting in his seat. “I’ll bus in the mornings, and you pick me home after work. Good compromise, right?”
“That sounds okay,” Hongbin agreed, and Wonshik gave him a wobbly smile.
“I'm sorry,” his boyfriend said quietly. “I don’t know what came over me just now.”
“Me neither,” Hongbin admitted. “We’re just really tired, I think.”
“Yeah. And the house...” Wonshik trailed off, and Hongbin bit his lip. Things had been peaceful for a while, but he wouldn’t deny that he didn’t feel out of place from time to time, like he was standing in a stranger’s home instead of his own, where the pages of their books seemed to crumple for no reason and the strings on Hongbin’s guitar would mysterious unwind until it was completely out of tune. At one point, Wonshik’s cardigan somehow managed to drape itself over the shower head and proceeded to give Hongbin the worst fright of his life when he pulled the shower curtains back one night.
“I don’t mind picking you up from work if you’re more comfortable there,” Hongbin said, linking his fingers with Wonshik’s. Wonshik’s eye glowed, and he leaned over to give Hongbin a soft, sweet kiss on his cheek.
They sat together in contemplative silence after that, watching the cluster of red brake lights glowing from the sea of cars in front of them, filtered by the wet windshield and punctured by the hollow drag of rubber against glass as the wipers moved back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth.
+
He could tell that Wonshik wasn’t feeling well by the third week they worked into their new routine. His boyfriend wouldn’t work from the office or the living room and preferred to finish most of his work at the studio, but sometimes he’d drag the keyboard out into the kitchen and brood over his pieces there, headphones plugged in and desk lamp illuminating the notes on the staff paper and crossed out, rewritten, and the scratched out words in his notebook.
“You coming to bed?” Hongbin asked, popping his head around the doorway as he watched Wonshik fiddle with the settings on the keyboard.
“In a while,” Wonshik said, and he sounded exhausted down to his bones. The bags under his eyes looked like purple smudges and his movements were slow and jerky. Hongbin wasn’t sure his boyfriend managed to get more than two hours of sleep each night.
“You need rest,” Hongbin frowned, walking over to slid his hands over Wonshik’s shoulders. The older man tensed up slightly, but then Hongbin pressed his fingers into the tight muscles on his back and began a gentle massage, trying his best to ease Wonshik’s bad posture and knead away his stress.
“Shit, that’s good,” Wonshik sighed, dropping his head forwards. Hongbin smiled to himself.
“Come up soon,” he said quietly, pressing a light kiss to the back of Wonshik’s neck, and his boyfriend hummed, sleepily agreeing.
“You go on first,” he said, reaching back to pat Hongbin’s hand. “Don’t wait up for me.”
Hongbin took a step back, suppressing a sigh as he gave Wonshik’s thin, dyed hair one last ruffle and walked around the table, his hip brushing against the corner of the wood as he headed towards the doorway.
A shadow, too large to come from any passing vehicle outside and too malicious to be his own, swooped down and spanned over the white wall like spilled ink sweeping over a blank sheet of paper.
Hongbin whipped around in shock, terror taking hold in the roots of his heart, but there was nothing in the kitchen aside from humming appliances and his boyfriend.
Wonshik looked up inquisitively. “Everything alright?” he asked, tilting his head. Hongbin swallowed harshly.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t stay downstairs for too long.”
“I’ll finish soon,” Wonshik nodded. “Promise.”
Not quite trusting himself to speak, Hongbin made a vague noise of acknowledgement and backed out of the kitchen, slow steps taking him away from the kitchen and into the dimness of the rest of the house.
+
Once a month, Sanghyuk’s roommate’s long distance girlfriend comes to visit and doesn’t leave for at least several days, during which Sanghyuk would suffer under a third body living in a tiny apartment that could barely house two grown men and the copious amount of sex the couple seemed enjoy anytime, anywhere.
“It’s murder on my ears,” Sanghyuk once whined to them. “I swear to god, just let me stay over at somebody’s place for those few days and I promise I’ll buy you lunch for a week or something.”
That was how, every month or so, they’d take turns housing Sanghyuk within their little gang and get free lunch at the expense of their dirt poor student friend.
Hongbin didn’t want Sanghyuk to come over this time around, but they had no choice. Taekwoon and Jaehwan’s place was undergoing a renovation and the two of them were staying with Taekwoon’s sister. Hakyeon, who was travelling for the time being, wasn’t home at all. That left Hongbin and Wonshik’s place, and Sanghyuk had perfected the pleading puppy dog eyes that made all of their defences crumble long ago.
“Three days,” Wonshik sighed, helping Sanghyuk pull his duffle bag through the door. “No more than that, okay?”
“Got it,” Sanghyuk said with a little salute, smiling lopsidedly at his elders. “Thanks again, guys.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hongbin said, ruffling Sanghyuk’s hair. “You know where the everything is. Let us know if you need anything.”
“I’ll manage,” Sanghyuk hummed, already rummaging through the fridge for beer. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your sexy times.”
Wonshik choked on his own spit and Hongbin rolled his eyes, even though his stomach seemed to curl in on itself a little. While the horrific scratches on Hongbin’s back had healed and nothing of the sort had ever showed up again after they slept together, the shock still had its hold over them. With the addition of their new work schedules and the weirdness of their house, Hongbin was pretty sure neither of them would be getting a lot of action anytime soon.
“Don’t get smart with me, youngster,” he said instead, chopping Sanghyuk’s neck, and felt immense satisfaction when Sanghyuk almost dropped his drink.
“You’re barely any older than me, Hongbin!”
“I’m older, own my own place, have a job, a car and a stable relationship,” Hongbin smirked. “Get on my level.”
He darted out of the room before Sanghyuk could slide tackle him, shouting the whole time about how his Master’s was sucking the literal enjoyment out of every part of his life and how it wasn’t fair for Hongbin to compare his white picket fence life to his.
+
They waited with bated breath for something to happen, ready to intervene to the best of their abilities, because Hongbin would never forgive himself if Sanghyuk got hurt under their roof.
For a while, nothing out of the ordinary seemed to occur. Sanghyuk, saddled with lectures, labs to attend and classes to TA for, was out for most of the day and would return late because of his commute. The only thing that had happened was the temperatures dropping oddly in the guest room. Wonshik finally managed to fix that after an hour of wrangling with the thermostat. There was also a moment where Sanghyuk nearly turned the house over looking for his lost research notes, only for him to remember moments later that he’d left it all in his locker at the university. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief after that, though Wonshik and Hongbin did for completely different reasons.
Hongbin wasn’t naive enough to think that things were looking up, but there was, for a few moments, some semblance of peace and quiet. On Sanghyuk’s last day, the three of them were rushing around the house, each trying to get ready for work. Sanghyuk had a faculty meeting that morning but needed to drop his luggage off at the dorm first, Wonshik was trying to get to work early, and Hongbin had, in fact, slept in, and was hurrying through getting dressed and brushing his teeth as he tried to find matching socks.
“Make sure you eat something before you go to work,” Wonshik yelled from the closet, throwing various ties out for Hongbin to pick from.
“I’ll get something from the salad bar down the street,” Hongbin said absent-mindedly, trying to pat his hair down. Downstairs, by the shoe rack, Sanghyuk coughed something along the lines of “rabbit food” and Hongbin rolled his eyes.
“Get something more filling at lunch then!” Wonshik hollered after him as Hongbin hurried out of the bedroom and down the hall. “And don’t speed!”
“Alright, mom!” Hongbin shouted back, and Wonshik gave him a fond grin.
“Just worried about your safety, Kong.”
Sanghyuk made a gagging noise and Hongbin fought back a snicker. He rounded the corner and had taken the first step down the stairs, fingers trailing on the smooth wood of the bannister, when he felt two solid somethings on his shoulder blades that pushed, hard.
He pitched forwards, everything happening too quickly for him to fully comprehend anything. The next thing Hongbin knew he was falling down, down, down, and the last thought he had before the angular edges of the stairs rushed into his vision was this is going to hurt.
+
“A concussion,” Wonshik said numbly, sitting in a plastic chair next to Hongbin’s hospital bed, elbows resting on his knees as he stared ahead. “And a sprained wrist. Doc said you’re lucky not to have any broken bones. What the hell is happening to us?”
“Beats me,” Hongbin muttered, carefully cradling his wrapped wrist in his good hand. “This is such a mess.”
“You said you felt something push you,” Wonshik said, looking up. His eyes were red, and Hongbin knew he’d been crying. “Something pushed you and you fell down the stairs.”
“I wasn’t even wearing my socks when I went down the stairs,” Hongbin muttered. “I had a steady footing, I was doing fine, but then—”
“You just pitched forwards,” Wonshik said. “Sanghyuk and I both saw. It wasn’t like you fainted either.”
“I’d remember if I fainted,” Hongbin murmured, sinking into the pillows propping his back up. By the time he came to he was in an ambulance to the hospital, Wonshik sitting in near tears by his side. He’d fearfully rushed Sanghyuk out of the house, and Wonshik had loaned him the car so that Sanghyuk could bring his things back to his dorm despite their friend’s worried protests. Sanghyuk’s a good kid, Hongbin thought tiredly. It was a good thing he wasn’t the one hurt.
There was a throbbing pain in the front of his head, even as it was wrapped under a thin layer of bandages. The only sound heard was the thrum of hospital machinery and the muted buzz of the florescent lights overhead as the two of them sat in a momentary silence, worn out.
“I think,” Wonshik said slowly, fingertips pressed together so tightly they were white. “I think we’re being haunted.”
Hongbin jerked his head to look at him, a chill going through his whole body. There it was; the topic they’d skirted around for weeks now, acted like it didn’t happen, even tried to push out of their minds with little success.
“There are no such thing as ghosts,” Hongbin whispered, but even that sounded weak to his ears. He knew, in his hearts of hearts, that this is what it was.
Wonshik stared, a little incredulous. “After all this and you still want to say there’s no such thing as ghosts?”
“It’s just— that’s not a practical way of thinking,” Hongbin muttered, turning away.
“But think about it, it’s the only possible reason—”
“Ghosts don’t exists,” Hongbin snapped, harsher than he’d intended, and Wonshik’s eyes darkened. He scooted forwards on the chair and reached out to grasp Hongbin’s good hand, grip firm but not painful.
“Just listen,” Wonshik said urgently, his voice low and hurried. Hongbin had never seen his boyfriend this serious, or this upset. No— Wonshik wasn’t upset. He was frightened.
“I don’t think we’re alone in that house anymore,” Wonshik whispered, and as terribly as he wanted to deny it, to pretend nothing of the sort happened anymore, Hongbin knew he couldn’t lie. They had company, and it was fast becoming apparent that it wasn’t the nice kind.
“Then what do we do?” Hongbin asked, trying to steady the unnerving jackhammering of his heart. “What do you think it even is?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure I want to find out,” Wonshik said, hands trembling ever so slightly. Hongbin swallowed hard.
“How are we supposed to deal with this then?”
“We move out,” Wonshik sighed. “Or get somebody to take a look at it. I dunno, I just don’t want to set foot in that damn house ever again.”
Hongbin had to look away then, frowning unhappily. This was their dream house, the first place the two of them had managed to get after years of saving up; this was the home they’d whispered about while they sprawled across the bed in the rented apartment they used to stay in, fingers linked together and noses brushing as they talked about starting a life together. All that, ruined by something monstrous and out of their control.
“Kong,” Wonshik said softly, pulling Hongbin out of his trance. “It’s okay. I know we worked hard for that place, but it’s not doing us any favours right now. I’d rather we start over somewhere else, happy and safe.”
“It’s not fair,” Hongbin sighed, curling his legs up. Wonshik shook his head and gently pushed him over a bit on the bed before climbing onto the mattress. He pulled Hongbin against him and wrapped an arm around Hongbin’s shoulders, thumb rubbing soothing circles against the side of his arm.
“When I saw you fall down those stairs, my heart just stopped,” Wonshik murmured, his lips pressed against Hongbin’s temple. “I was so, so scared you were hurt even worse than this. I love you too much to see you on a hospital bed, alright? Let’s go somewhere else, where we won’t have to live in constant fear of something else happening.”
Hongbin swallowed, trying to push the tears back as he sniffed. “Alright,” he whispered back, nodding slightly. “We go back, get everything we can, terminate the lease, and move out.”
“Somewhere much nicer, and with a lot of sunlight,” Wonshik added, and Hongbin let out a little laugh, turning over slightly so he could curl around Wonshik. In response, his boyfriend tucked his chin over Hongbin’s head and gave him another kiss, this time to his forehead, and settled down on the hospital bed.
For the first time in weeks, they fell into a quiet, comfortable sleep.
+
It was weird to see their house empty.
Everything was in boxes, rooms were desolate, and the walls were barren of any of Hongbin’s framed photographs. The office had none of its usual creative spark, the kitchen was silent, and most of all, their bedroom, the one with its beige walls and usual familiar clutter, sat cold and inventing. Hongbin spent a good five minutes standing in the doorway, just looking, remembering the times he sat at the desk with a book, the times he and Wonshik wrestled each other on the rug, and the times they’d tipped over onto the bed together, hands wandering and lips pressed together gently.
Now, even with the curtains removed and the afternoon sun blazing through the uncovered window, there wasn’t a shred of warmth in the room.
“Hongbin!”
He turned when he heard Wonshik’s voice from downstairs and bent down to pick up the eco-friendly bags at his feet, all packed with the last of their things from the upper floor.
“Coming!”
He dragged the bedroom door shut with his foot as he left, and he didn’t look back even when the door closed sadly, like it was bidding him farewell.
Wonshik was standing in the foyer, gloved hands planted on his hips as he caught his breath. He looked up when Hongbin walked down the stairs, balancing a bag on each arm.
“You need help with that?”
“I’m good,” Hongbin said, brushing past him. “My wrist is almost healed, you know. If you keep on trying to pack everything yourself you’re the one who’s gonna end up pulling his back or something.”
“But then you’ll treat me to one of your amazing massages, right?” Wonshik joked, giving Hongbin a sheepish grin. Hongbin pretended to roll his eyes as he shoved the bags into the backseat of the car, slamming the door shut afterwards. Most of their furniture had already been moved to Wonshik’s parents’ place on the other side of the city a week ago, and today was the last day of their move.
“Oh, I’ll give you a massage so good you’ll feel like a twisted pretzel once I’m done,” Hongbin promised, and laughed at Wonshik’s immediate shake of his head. “Joking,” he called, walking back into the house. “Is that everything?”
Wonshik glanced down the hallway, doing a fast visual sweep. “I do believe so,” he said softly. Hongbin sighed.
“It’s weird seeing our place like this.”
“You know, I’m starting to think that it’s never been our place to begin with,” Wonshik said thoughtfully. “There was always... something. I don’t know what, but maybe this— moving out— is better for all of us.”
“Yeah,” Hongbin murmured. “Maybe it is.”
“Well, we’ve cleared everything out, at any rate,” Wonshik said, brushing dust off his old jeans. “I’m gonna go downstairs to turn the power off, and then... we’ll be off.”
Hongbin arched an eyebrow and glanced towards the basement door. “Why the basement, of all things?”
“Believe me, that’s what I asked myself too,” Wonshik grumbled. “But the main switch is downstairs. I’ll be quick.”
“Wonshik—” Hongbin started, frowning, but Wonshik just placed the gloves off and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a look.
“I’ll yell if I need anything.”
“You better,” he replied, a little desperately, somehow feeling like it was a horrible mistake to watch Wonshik open the basement door and disappear down the steps.
He stood waiting, stock still and listening for any signs of trouble, but all he could hear was his own heart pumping inside his chest. Hongbin shook his head irritably, trying to calm himself down. Outside, there was a sudden flurry of noise and he whipped around in a panic, only to see two sparrows land on the branches of the tree on the lawn.
Sighing, Hongbin shook his head, turned, and nearly jumped a foot into the air when he saw something on the wall.
It was the ornate mirror, the one hanging above where the shoe rack once was, the same one he checked his reflection in every morning.
“Fuck,” Hongbin sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the harried, tired expression reflected in the glass. “I’m twitchy, aren’t I? Can’t believe we almost forgot to pack this.”
He stepped forwards, and then his reflection in the glass wavered, smiling at him.
Hongbin stopped dead in his tracks, paling.
The reflection tilted its head, smile growing wider, stretching across its face (his face) until it bordered on an unhinged, terrifying look. Hongbin opened his mouth, maybe to call for Wonshik, but the words wouldn’t escape his lips. He shook, fingernails digging into his palms as he backed away, legs quaking with each step. This wasn’t normal, this wasn’t right.
The reflection blinked again, and its face suddenly morphed into an animalistic rage as it threw itself forwards.
The entire wall the mirror was mounted on instantly rattled, shaking with a terrifying force that threatened rip it down. Hongbin let out a shout of fear, collapsing onto the floor as he stared in abject horror.
“Wonshik!” he yelled. “WONSHIK!”
For a horrifying second, there was no response, and the reflection threw itself at the mirror again, nails clawing, eyes wild, smile haunting. The wall creaked and groaned, like the terror trapped inside the mirror was actually behind the plaster, fighting to get out, to get him.
Then, footsteps, clambering and tripping over itself as Wonshik burst out of the basement, and Hongbin had never in his life felt a greater relief when he saw his boyfriend in the hallway.
“What the fuck—” Wonshik said, eyes wide with disbelief, and the whole house moaned under invisible strain as the mirror slammed against the wall, making the cabinets in the kitchen fly open and dust fall from the shaking ceiling.
“Christ, we are leaving right fucking now,” Wonshik shouted. He ran forwards, grabbed Hongbin by the arm, and hauled him to his feet. “Go! Go!”
Hongbin didn’t need another reminder. They turned and ran, feet getting caught on the doorstep as they bolted out of the house. The front door slammed shut behind them as they threw themselves into the car, and as Wonshik shoved the keys into the ignition and turned, the sound of breaking glass could be heard overhead. Hongbin turned in his seat, looking up to see the windows on the second floor explode, sending sparkling shards of glass falling onto the driveway.
Wonshik gritted his teeth and slammed his foot on the gas, leaving the house and whatever was inside it was behind them for good. Hongbin swallowed harshly, his heart going a mile a minute as he watched the building’s deceivingly still exterior meld into the shadows of the sprawling trees lining the street. He wondered if their neighbours heard any of this noise, and if they would care that the two new residents on the street had left in such a panic.
“Put your seatbelt on, Hongbin,” Wonshik said, his voice hard, and Hongbin sunk back into the passenger seat, slowly pulling his seatbelt over himself. Wonshik sped the car up, and they drove wordlessly until they stopped at the first major intersection. Hongbin finally turned to look at Wonshik, and was unsurprised to see his boyfriend’s hair disheveled and his face worn after the adrenaline high began fading away into shaky, residual fear.
“That,” Wonshik said, after a beat. “Was fucking terrifying.”
“Yeah,” Hongbin nodded numbly. “That’s one way to put it.”
Wonshik let out a weak little laugh, one that bordered hysteria, and Hongbin immediately reached out to take his hand.
“It’s okay, Wonshik," he said firmly. “We’re out now. We’ll stay at your parents’ until we can find a proper place. A better home.”
“I am doing a thorough background check on every building we visit,” Wonshik muttered. “And I’m chucking purifying salt at the walls before we even consider buying it.”
“Good plan,” Hongbin agreed, managing a smile.
The red light they were waiting at finally turned green, and they were off, making their way down the busy road before taking the ramp onto the highway. Wonshik’s hand was comforting against his own, and Hongbin let a heavy breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding the whole time.
They didn’t let go of each other until they reached Wonshik’s parents’ home.
+
Three months later
The flames flared on the grill as Taekwoon flipped the meat over, a look of intense satisfaction on his face when the crisp sizzling sound cut through the evening air.
“Wow, you’re good at this,” Hongbin said, admiring the perfectly cooked surface.
“Of course,” Taekwoon murmured, taking a gulp of beer as he surveyed the meat with a critical eye. Hongbin laughed and placed the plates of freshly cut vegetables down on the table next to his friend.
“Are you sure you don’t want any help? I know we invited you guys over for a barbecue, but I don’t want you to just stand here and cook for all of us.”
“You’re wasting your breath,” Jaehwan’s voice sounded from behind as he bounded over with a bowl of cubed cantaloupes in hand. He plucked one and held it out on a toothpick to Taekwoon, who immediately went for a bite. “Taekwoon won’t be satisfied with any kind of cooking unless it’s his own.”
“Go away,” Taekwoon muttered crossly between chews. “You’re all standing in my space.”
“And he’s territorial. Go figure,” Jaehwan teased, leaning in to give Taekwoon a peck on his cheek. “C’mon, Bin, we need one more person for Mario Kart.”
“Shout if you need anything,” Hongbin called as Jaehwan looped an arm around him, pulling him through the patio door. Taekwoon waved him off lazily, tongs clicking threateningly in his hand as he watched the meat grill.
Their new place was smaller than their old house, but undoubtably cozier. The white-bricked semi was a part of a large neighbourhood of similarly designed houses overlooking a golf course in the back. While neither Hongbin nor Wonshik played golf, the scenery was both peaceful and amazing to look at.
“Kong,” Wonshik called from the kitchen when they stumbled in, and Hongbin glanced around the corner, untangling his arm from Jaehwan as his friend ran back into the living room to yell and Hakyeon and Sanghyuk.
“Yeah?”
“Taste this for me?” Wonshik asked, holding out a spoon. Hongbin nodded and walked over, reaching up to curl his fingers around Wonshik’s wrist as he sipped on the bit of soup. He smacked his lips and hummed.
“It’s good. Maybe a bit more salt?”
“Got it,” Wonshik grinned, leaning forwards and surprised Hongbin with a swift kiss. Hongbin spluttered and pinched Wonshik’s side in retaliation, making his boyfriend yelp as he shook salt into the pot on the stove. Even though they’d only moved in a short while ago, the rooms in the house had already adopted a fairly lived-in look. The magnetic calendar stuck on the fridge had dates and events scrawled all over it, the living room was a mess of pillows and video games, and Wonshik had already taken over an entire section of the basement as his new studio. Hongbin’s pictures found new spaces to occupy on the pastel blue walls, and the greatest addition, a little balcony attached to their bedroom upstairs, had already begun to house a bunch of cute potted plants Hongbin picked up at the greenhouses at Sanghyuk’s university.
“Taekwoon’s practically taken over the grill out there, so if you have anything else to cook just pass it over to him.”
“He’s making himself right at home then,” Wonshik chuckled, stirring slowly with the ladle. “Knew he’d love the open backyard out there.”
“He said he wanted to bring his niece and nephew over sometime,” Hongbin added, scanning the bottles on the countertop for the flask of brandy. “Something about a lot of space for kids to run around.”
“Sounds great, actually. Hakyeon mentioned something about bringing the new puppy he’s adopted over as well. It’s a cute little pug, from what I heard.”
“Kids and dogs together; Taekwoon’s going to have a hay day,” Hongbin joked, lining the tumblers up on the granite surface as Hakyeon walked into the kitchen, wrinkling his nose when he saw the liquor.
“Do you have soda instead, Hongbin?”
“Bottom of the fridge,” Hongbin called, not looking up from the drinks he was pouring, and Hakyeon hummed his thanks, walking around them.
“By the way, did your previous tenants steal all the mirrors in your house before they left?” Hakyeon asked, selecting a can of coke before shutting the fridge with a light thump. “There isn’t even one in your downstairs bathroom.”
A drop of brandy splashed onto the counter as Hongbin tilted the bottle back. He swiped the dishcloth over it and gave Hakyeon a dimpled grin over his shoulder.
“It’s okay, just use the front camera on your phone to check your reflection.”
“Funny,” Hakyeon laughed. “Here, grab me a tray, I’ll bring the drinks over to the guys in the living room.”
“Thanks,” Hongbin said, passing the tray Wonshik handed him to Hakyeon. “The tumbler with slightly less brandy is Taekwoon’s... you know how he’s weak with alcohol and stuff, so...”
“Say no more,” Hakyeon snickered, and swept the drinks away with flourish. Hongbin twisted the cap back onto the brandy and set it down carefully amongst the other bottles on the counter, surveying the liquor with a thoughtful gaze. A hand came to rest on his waist, and he glanced behind him as Wonshik leaned in and rested his chin on Hongbin’s shoulder.
“You alright?”
“I’m good,” Hongbin replied, absent-mindedly winding his fingers around Wonshik’s. “This is a nice house, isn’t it?”
Wonshik laughed, the soft vibrations rumbling through Hongbin’s side. “It is,” he agreed, turning to kiss the side of Hongbin’s neck. “I think we’ll like it here.”
Hongbin smiled, tilting his head. “Me too.”
The patio door opened and Taekwoon walked in, toeing off his shoes as he brought a plate of perfectly grilled meat in. There was a heavy thud in the direction of the living room as Jaehwan let out a shriek of despair, coupled by Sanghyuk’s maniacal laughter as the music from the video game chirped on. Hongbin shook his head and tugged Wonshik along, pulling him towards the dining room for dinner. As they left their kitchen to join their friends, the fridge kicked to life and began to hum, filling the quiet space with a low sound. The faucet in the mirrorless bathroom let loose several droplets of water that slid down the porcelain sink, disappearing into the darkness of the drain. The setting sun dipped behind the roofs of the surrounding houses, reflecting streaks of pink, red and gold against the open windows upstairs.
Outside, the patio light flickered to life, and it bathed the doorway with a cozy orange glow that filled the atmosphere of their new home with a sort of gentle, irreplaceable warmth.