prompt 001: what could have been (is all we have)
title: what could have been (is all we have)
genre: romance, ghost!au, fluff, slight angst
pairings: kaisoo
length: 1.5k
description: it's never too late to start liking someone, even when you're already dead.
“They’ll arrive in minute or two.”
Jongin nods and purses his lips as he props his shovel against the soil truck. The sky looks ominous and the wind is cold. Everything is wrapped up in a blanket of grey, everything looking dull and melancholic, the light drizzle pelting down and landing cold as ice on the tombstones.
Oftentimes, he wonders if heaven sympathizes with loss, if God and angels and saints understand how it feels when you lose someone, when anguish seeps through flesh and hits you where it hurts the most, because somehow, it always rains or drizzles when another family has to bury someone beloved.
This is the thirty-second burial he’s attending. He knows because he keeps count. This time, he has to bury a car accident victim, someone who apparently went into a two month coma before giving up the fight.
Jongin sighs, running a hand through his hair before he fishes out the (now) soggy sandwich he packed beforehand. It’s nothing fancy. Just old hard bread with a few swipes of cheap jam-it’s all he could afford. He needs strength and energy for this and the next two burials. They’ve already managed to dig a clean rectangular hole six feet deep, the lowering machine already set up and at a standby.
He’s not even halfway through it when Sehun arrives, a little breathless from running.
“Jongin! They’re here.”
Jongin nods, giving Sehun a critical look.
They are both very thin, bordering on malnourished if you ask a passersby. This is a result of being orphans since they were eight, and thus, having to fend for themselves by getting into jobs.
They both try their best, but what little food they bring to the table is still not enough. They’re dirt poor and prices are high, and Jongin wonders how people find defined collarbones and peeking ribs beautiful.
Their faces aren’t exactly gaunt, but they’re getting there. They wear their skin on their bones like how extra skinny jeans would fit on a pair of legs, and Jongin watches with that familiar crippling glumness as Sehun’s bony chest rises and falls.
“Here.” He says, handing Sehun the sandwich. “Eat some or you’ll pass out.”
Sehun raises his eyebrows. “But you-“
He shakes his head. “Already ate breakfast. You need it more.”
Sehun stays still for a minute as Jongin fetches his shovel, eyes intent on the slow moving convoy making its way to their part of the cemetery.
“Thanks.” Sehun softly mutters, smiling before walking away.
Jongin sighs when his stomach begins grumbling. But the hairs on his nape suddenly stand on end and he whips around to see nothing but the soil truck behind him.
He shakes his head. “I’m just hungry.” He tells himself, because for a moment there, it felt like someone had been watching.
-
“You’re fucking crazy Baek!” Kyungsoo yells as their car runs a red light and they speed through another intersection, heading for the mountains.
Baekhyun merely laughs, expression gleeful as he eyes the GTR behind him through the rearview mirror and shifts gear. “Stop being such a pussy Kyung!”
He laughs when Kyungsoo’s eyes bug out when he gives him a glance.
“Eyes on the road!” Kyungsoo bellows, clutching on his seatbelt as they make a violent turn, the force throwing him off the seat for a few seconds.
They’re speeding through a deserted road, a trail of electric blue zigzagging through the forest on wet asphalt.
It is a Friday night and they go through the traditional race with Baekhyun and Chanyeol manning the wheels.
“Is this your foreplay? I don’t want this. Stop the car, I want out!” Kyungsoo yells.
Baekhyun merely rolls his eyes and gives him a hard push, so that Kyungsoo stays flat on his seat. “Stay put and stop panicking.”
There is a car honk as Chanyeol speeds past and flashes them his middle finger, grin wide as he overtakes their car.
“Look what you’ve done.” Baekhyun hisses, clutching the wheel as he presses on the accelerator harder, approaching the curve ahead.
He whoops as they catch up to Chanyeol, punching the air in triumph before he flips the other off as they drive past.
“Look out!”
Baekhyun shrieks when headlights pop out of the blind curve, foot scrambling in panic as he tries to step on the breaks.
“Baekhyun!” Kyungsoo yells, dread seeping through him as he freezes, muscles tense.
Baekhyun manages to swerve, but it’s too late and the head lights are suddenly too near Kyungsoo’s side of the car.
It all seems to happen in slow motion, as they freeze and wait for the impact of the truck, the crunch of metal as it crumples under the force of the collision. Faintly, they hear Chanyeol shouting his voice hoarse, and the squeal of the wheels as the other driver struggles to break.
Kyungsoo’s eyes are wide, before he turns away as metal meets metal. Their car skids sideways and he feels his bones pop and the force pushing him towards Baekhyun’s side, before the car does one final twirl and topples on one side.
It has been two months then. Two months of seeing himself hooked to machinery to keep himself alive, two months of seeing his parents and brother cry, of Baekhyun and Chanyeol visiting everyday so that the former can murmur ‘sorry’ over and over again against his cold hand.
Two months of Kyungsoo trying to get back to his body and failing colossally.
Kyungsoo smiles faintly as the drizzle gets stronger. Now that he’s dead, he can’t feel the cold, can’t feel how the water seeps through his clothes and drips down his smooth cheek. He doesn’t leave footprints on the well-groomed grass anymore, can’t see his reflection on a puddle nearby.
He holds a hand out in front of him for awhile and closes his eyes, yearning to feel something, yearning to be seen.
“This your burial, kid?”
Kyungsoo lets out a small squeak at the unexpected presence. He opens his eyes to find a man smiling up at him. He has high cheekbones and long lashes, as well as an impish smile and curly hair. Unlike Kyungsoo, he is a little transparent, a little opalescent too.
“I-I’m sorry?”
“Is this your burial? You still look human so you must be new.”
Kyungsoo hesitantly nods and turns back to the tent set up for the ceremony. They’ve given him a short mass, and he watches as the priest gives his final blessing before his family steps closer to his coffin, his mother crying.
It is a close casket affair and there are several flower arrangements laid out, his most decent picture blown up and placed on a stand. Some of his old classmates and acquaintances are around, but most of it are his parents’ friends; business associates and partners. He sees Baekhyun and Chanyeol by the side too, head bowed and tears tracking gently down their faces.
Kyungsoo wants to talk to them, wants to reassure them that everything is okay, that all is forgiven, but he can only stand and watch.
“Don’t you want to go nearer?” The ghost beside him speaks up.
“Does it make a difference?”
The ghost’s face softens. “We might not have a physical vessel anymore, but our presence still bears weight on those who loved us.”
Kyungsoo hesitates before walking closer. He watches his family and friends cry, watches as the priest sprinkles holy water as they lower his body down. The despair and crying intensifies but he can only stand and watch, can’t even hug his mother or assure his father that he’ll be okay.
The affair is over before he knows it, and what’s left are the grave workers tearing down the flower arrangements to put them on his grave.
Kyungsoo watches one of them with intent eyes. He’s heard one of his fellow workers say his name.
Jongin.
Jongin is nothing short of a beautiful mess. He is thin, bones and muscles from hard work peeking through caramel skin. There are dark bags under his eyes, and his full mouth is always pursed in a quiet manner as he heaves the flowers up on his shoulders and lays them down gently on Kyungsoo’s grave.
"Jongin, catch up with us when you’re finished alright?” Someone with a thin face and pale skin tells him.
Jongin nods and says a faint “Sure,” Before he kneels beside Kyungsoo’s grave. He picks out some of the carnations, the roses and baby’s breath from some of the arrangements, and begins laying them down delicately on the dull grass and fresh soil.
Kyungsoo takes a sharp intake of breath.
“I’m sorry this had to happen to you.” Jongin mutters, tucking a stalk of baby’s breath beside his gravestone. “I don’t know you but I hope you rest in peace.”
Kyungsoo tilts his head in wonder, watching as Jongin closes his eyes and puts his hands together, saying a little prayer.
There is a warmth that spreads through from his chest and unfurls like a bud during spring, a strange sort of affection for this man, this man who was compassionate enough to make his grave look beautiful. It grows evident in the way Kyungsoo’s face softens, and he doesn’t notice his fellow ghost beside him giving him a curious look.
Kyungsoo follows the man with his eyes when he leaves, and he thinks that if he were still alive, his heart might have sped up, and it would have been the beginnings of a crush.