Reveries of You: Part 1

[angelforalien]

Reveries of You - Part 1

Written for: appletease

Prompt: Suho is a detective with psychic powers, and
frequently talks to dead people to help ~ease them over to the afterlife. Yifan is a persistent ghost that just won't leave him alone or cross over. Suho starts getting annoyed and frustrated, until he realizes Yifan's ghost is trying to tell him something major.

Rating: R

Warnings: Angst, Ghosts (lots of it), Reincarnation, Past Character Death, Smut

Word Count: 14025 words

Summary: Junmyeon had always been able to see dead people as long as he could remember. But nothing could have prepared him the day he came across an ancient diary haunted by a ghost named Yifan. Nor was he prepared for the secrets that enveloped him. Will he ever find out the truth behind the diary? Will he ever find out the truth about Yifan?

Message: I couldn't have made it if not for my little sweethearts whom I shall call collectively as Pleiades, for cheering me on! Special thanks to Dragonfly for editing this humble piece, and to dear Stardust, for holding me throughout the writing process. And to my recipient, I'm sorry if this is not what you expected. I know I deviated much from the prompt but I hope you'll like this piece which I poured a lot of my heart into!



Train wheels glided on steel tracks. And the murmurs of the people around him cumulated into his ears, as they go in different directions, whether by pairs or groups, with their feet they tapped lightly on the cobblestone paths under them.

In one corner of the station, Kim Junmyeon stood. Carefully observing how the world moved, he stood still as if he was not part of it.

Jongdae and Chanyeol had called to hang out with him on a Saturday afternoon. It had been a long while since they had gone to see a movie, with all the work that their teachers had placed on their desks. And like most of their movie dates, he’s early.

At least earlier than the two of them.

He had been standing for a good ten minutes. Two or three trains must’ve passed by already. But still his comrades had not arrived yet. And so, instead of standing up while he waited for them, he took the nearest unoccupied bench, close to the platform where the other two boys would arrive, and sat.

Junmyeon was not a popular kid. In fact he only has two friends, Jongdae and Chanyeol. Two human friends. Unless you counted another one. But that friend belonged to another category.

He was definitely not antisocial. Introvert as he may be, he enjoyed interacting with other people nonetheless. He just did not like it when people gave him strange looks whenever he talked about the people or the things that they could not see, but only he could.

It’s not that he couldn’t distinguish living beings from those that were not. Some non-living beings were easily distinguishable. But there were others who take in a human appearance so convincing, that Junmyeon could not tell them apart especially when they’re in a crowd.

There were times when other people, the human ones, would flash him quizzical looks. While there were some, who would laugh at him like he is a weirdo. What Junmyeon did as a rebound, would be to give them a shy smile. Sometimes he bowed apologies, or he laughed along with those who had laughed at him.

Sometimes, he’d like to call these non-living beings as elementals. Because dead and wandering about as they may be, the memories they hold on to were essentially alive.

Some of these elementals were terrified of ‘the other side’. They feared death, despite having ceased to live. They feared death in the same intensity as how the living, feared death because they knew nothing of it. But like the living, there were some elementals with brave hearts.

But sadly, some of the brave ones could not move to the other side, despite their willingness to have done so. Because there were still some chains that needed to be broken, unfinished businesses that needed to be settled, fragments of a shattered memory, or a big puzzle that needed to be pieced together again -- so that they would be able to move towards the light.

Because he has the ability to see these creatures that most human beings could not, he felt obligated to help them. It’s inconvenient sometimes. Because these non-living beings tended to be abusive of his kindness by disturbing his normal life, while others tended to be uncooperative whenever he reached out to them.

This was why Junmyeon chose to be quiet.

Speak only when necessary, offer help only when necessary, that’s probably his principle in life.

Every day, he risked being alienated by the people surrounding him because he was weird or crazy.

Every day, he risked being devoured or cursed by these unearthly beings. Every day, his life was on the edge of a knife. But hey, that’s how mortals were supposed to live, right?

Life would be boring if there was no danger to it.

As he raised his head, he observed how humans and spirits moved about in different directions in front of him, a peculiar feeling washed over him. It’s like he was standing in a line that separates both worlds.

Discrimination blurred before his eyes as he realized that he mediates both the living and the non-living.

If only he could filter the ghosts that mingled with the humans, then he would be able to say that there weren’t that many people buzzing about in this subway station at three in the afternoon. Unfortunately he couldn’t. Even when he just stood silently in a corner, the station was packed with humans and spirits. Each headed somewhere, while some are headed nowhere.

“Hyung!” A thunderous voice snapped him out of his reverie. Amongst the crowd, a young boy beamed at him, jubilantly he waved an arm while he approached him.

Ah, Jongdae.

Along with him were two boys. One tall and lanky boy, with long ears that peeked out of his beanie, full set of teeth that sparkled white in between his lips. The other one wasn’t as tall as him, perhaps he was as tall as Jongdae. Right, they mentioned that they were going to introduce him to a new friend. This boy had a plump face and fairly cute round eyes. He must be the friend that his two best friends wanted him to meet. Junmyeon took it as a cue to leave his bench and meet them halfway.

“Sorry, we’re late!” the tallest one, Chanyeol, said. His voice boomed through the air.

“It’s Chanyeol’s fault,” Jongdae announced, and folded his arms in his chest.

“I know, I know.” Junmyeon said, as he pulled Chanyeol closer and took off his beanie so that he could ruffle the tallest’s hair. He then turned to the third boy.

“Kim Junmyeon. Nice to meet you, Minseok,” he said, and extended a hand, which Minseok took voluntarily.

“Kim Minseok,” answered the boy with slightly puffy cheeks.

“And who is this pretty friend with you?” Junmyeon asked, he gestured at the person beside Minseok.

Astonishment colored Minseok’s round eyes. The other boys exchanged frightened looks. And suddenly, tension filled the air.

Oh snap! Junmyeon panicked internally, and rushed to cover up his slip. “I’m sorry about that! I was just joking!”

Jongdae laughed, albeit diffidently. And Chanyeol helped him until the group started laughing too.

“Your sense of humor is so wicked, hyung.” he said, and patted Junmyeon’s back.

Junmyeon glanced awkwardly at Minseok, worried that he might’ve scared the boy. Or worse, had given him an irreparable, terrible first impression.

“Junmyeon?” the boy beside him said, timidly.

“Yes, Minseok?” Junmyeon responded, he turned towards his new friend and flashed his usual, accommodating smile.

“Could you really...” Minseok started, then trailed off the rest of his sentence in a low whisper, “...you know, see ghosts?”

Junmyeon nodded. “So this means that you do know about... your friend right there?”

“No, no! Please don’t do that! I get scared by the thought of it!”

Hesitation made Minseok shift nervously before continuing, “I couldn’t... actually see him.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon exclaimed. “So that explains why you looked so surprised when I mentioned him.”

“I kept on denying there’s a ghost following me. I could only hear him. He didn’t really talk to me like a normal person would. All I could hear was his voice as he sang a song that’s strangely familiar. I thought that I had been hearing a voice. At night, I couldn’t sleep. Somebody was singing in my room. I thought I may be possessed.”

Junmyeon hummed contemplatively, chin clipped between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you want me to help you out?” he offered, and glanced from the other boy to the ghost floating behind him.

“Will you?” Eagerness lit up in Minseok’s round eyes. “I... hadn’t done this thing before. Even my parents thought I was going crazy when I talked about it. They even had me consult a doctor about it. That’s why I stayed mum about the voice I had been hearing for years now. I had no one to talk to and...” Minseok glimpsed at him before he proceeded. “Honestly, it’s weird. And I still get so nervous to talk about this right now because I’m afraid you wou-”

“No, Minseok,” Junmyeon interrupted his blabbering, and placed a free hand firmly upon his shoulder as an assurance. “I would never think of you as weird. Trust me. I had learned how to cope with people who thought of me as a weirdo. It’s natural for me to see supernatural things. Sometimes I can tell if they were real, sometimes I couldn’t. I had a slip earlier, and I swore I panicked when the rest of the guys didn’t see your friend here. But thank you for talking to me about this.”

“Well... If it’s any comfort to you, I do have a friend of my own that’s similar to yours.”

“Could we talk some other time? Just the two of us? We’re going to the movie with Chanyeol and Jongdae after all, now is not the right time.”

“Sure,” Junmyeon nodded, and fished out his phone from his pocket and offered it to Minseok. “But I couldn’t really call it ‘just the two of us’ considering...” He added while pointed a finger behind the other boy. Minseok lightly punched his arm, which made him chuckle. “Okay, okay. Let’s exchange numbers then.”

When they had finished entering their numbers into each other’s phones, they continued their way towards the ticket booth, to where Chanyeol and Jongdae are. Along the way, they talked about random things, and avoided the topic of Minseok’s little friend. It was difficult for Junmyeon to ignore him though, because he was following Minseok’s back sheepishly. Minseok didn’t seem to be bothered by how Junmyeon kept on glancing at his back. And the fact that Minseok acknowledged the existence of his little friend, gave Junmyeon some peace of mind.

“You two seemed to be getting along well,” Chanyeol commented, and handed the two older boys their ticket stubs.

“It’s a natural talent,” Junmyeon joked.

“Oh please, Junmyeon-hyung. If not for us, you’d be friendless by now,” Jongdae said, and threw his arm over Junmyeon’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t be totally friendless, you know.” Junmyeon retorted, which caused Jongdae to pull him closer, and mouthed Minseok as a warning. “Oh, it’s fine. Minseok already knows about my special abilities.”

Sighs of relief resounded in the air. “You should had told us earlier, Minseok-hyung.” Jongdae told Minseok. “If you had a problem with... your other friend, Junmyeon-hyung could help you.”

Minseok scrunched his nose. “It’s alright. We had already exchanged numbers so we could talk about it some other time. But for now, let’s go watch a movie!”

“That movie was awesome!” Jongdae shouted. His arms outstretched in joy, once the group was out of the movie theater.

“The leading lady was so dreamy,” Chanyeol sighed, and leant his head unto Junmyeon’s side, his mind floated off into the clouds.

Minseok quietly walked on the other side of Junmyeon, and was happily munching on a bucket of popcorn that he got from the younger boy. Junmyeon didn’t mind at all. In fact, he was more satisfied at being able to had made Minseok comfortable around him. Despite the abnormal circumstances he’d been trying to conceal.

The four of them continued talking about the movie that they had just seen, while they dragged their legs back towards the train station where they had assembled earlier.

Jongdae was the talkative one. He re-enacted some of his favorite scenes. Also scrutinized the actors and how relevant or irrelevant that scene was. Being the smart one, he elaborated some ‘mistakes’ in the movie, especially the scenes that had science in them. He was as passionate as ever.

Meanwhile, Chanyeol remained distracted. He drifted between fantasy and reality, and relied on Junmyeon’s lithe frame to guide him along the way. Sometimes, he would snap awake and join Jongdae in his analysis of the movie. But eventually, he’d return to his dazed state.

Junmyeon joined in the conversation occasionally, and made remarks on the overall cinematography of the movie.

And Minseok remained silent, even after he finished his bucket of popcorn. He only showed interest by nodding to the trio’s statements. He didn’t seem disinterested. And he was enjoying their company, undoubtedly. Junmyeon concluded that Minseok was a silent-type, but not a brooding one.

Upon reaching the station, they stopped to bid their farewells.

“It’s been a good day, guys,” Junmyeon said, and broke free from Chanyeol’s grasp.

“You weren’t coming with us?” Minseok asked.

“My home’s in the other direction, so I couldn’t take the same train with you guys,” Junmyeon answered, and waved his hand as the other three turn towards the other direction.

“Well then, take care, Junmyeon-hyung!”

“Thank you for meeting with us today!”

“See you soon, Junmyeon!”

The other three continued their way until Junmyeon couldn’t see them any longer. Turning around, he made his way towards the platform where he has to wait for his train.

Without the company of his pals, the surroundings had suddenly become quiet, save for the rushing of the train coming from the other direction. If he were a normal human being, the station would be deserted, since he’s taking the last train home. But with an extra sense, in his eyes, the platform was filled with creatures of all shapes and sizes, all waiting for the last train to arrive.

For an ordinary human, the train would be almost empty. But for Junmyeon, the train was full, occupied by non-human beings. And despite the prodding of the old woman with long, white hair sitting near the door of the train car to take the seat beside him, he politely declined while he gave her a reassuring smile.

He didn't want to sit on the lap of the headless man beside her. That’s definitely out of plan. And so he leaned his back on the wall, and watched the cityscape pass by through the window opposite him, over the small space above another spirit that looked like a grizzly bear.

When the train stopped at the next station, the old woman stood up and slowly made her way towards the door. Junmyeon hurried by her side to help her. He muttered hushed apologies to the spirits on the car, thus made her think that he was trying to call her attention and acknowledge his help. She smiled at him, took his hand and let him help her out the door and off the car.

“You’re such a good boy,” she said as she patted his head.

“Thank you. And I hoped you'll arrive home safely.”

She stayed at the platform, smiled and waved joyfully at him, waited for the train to leave.

“You should take her seat,” a familiar voice brought his attention back shortly after the train has departed the station.

He almost forgot about his other friend. It took him a second of breathing for the surprise to wear off of him. Shoving his friend’s offer off, he responded. “Nah, that seat is reserved for the elderly and for persons with disabilities.”

“Ever the polite child, even to those that were not human,” his friend remarked. Junmyeon didn’t spare him a glance.

“You’re awfully quiet today, Yifan,” Junmyeon said, and leaned his back on his old spot by the wall. “And I thought the pregnant woman right there needed it more than I do.”

“You’re such a kind-hearted boy,” the dwarf that sat on the railing said. And the doors of the train closed, accelerated towards the final station.

Before Yifan came to his life, having a peaceful sleep for Junmyeon was a luxury. It was something that he could not easily afford.

Often, he would wake up to a group of chattering ladies leisurely having a tea party in a corner of his room. Sometimes, when he opened his eyes in the middle of the night, he would see another pair of eyes looking back at him, his own perplexed expression reflected back at him.

Junmyeon was a child back then, young and promising. He has always seen ghosts and monsters for as long as he could recall.

He would then cry, seeing not-so-aesthetically-pleasing creatures that wandered around him, looking at him as if they were going to devour him. His parents would often rush to his side, ask him what was wrong. And give him perplexed looks when he describes what he was seeing.

Now that he thought about it, maybe Yifan wasn't much of a nuisance after all.

It's just that he wished that this ghost with long, black hair, clad in cotton robes like he had seen in his Chinese History textbooks, would stop following him around like a bodyguard.

How did he get stuck with Yifan, you ask? It all started on that fateful day when Junmyeon was seven.

On the same day that Junmyeon acquired a bundle of yellow-dyed papers, inked with strange characters that he couldn’t understand back then.

Sometimes, it was easier for Junmyeon to believe that the bundle of paper was a curse. Because on the day that he acquired the diary was the same day that he met Yifan, mildly translucent in the air, with his long black hair tied neatly into a ponytail. His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply, the moment Junmyeon, who was but a tiny young boy, first laid eyes in him.

It seemed that the moment when little, innocent Junmyeon, who was just playing around with the treasures in the attic of his grandfather’s house, touched the bundle of paper with his tiny hands, he had awakened this sleeping ghost.

Tiny Junmyeon blew upon the cover, thus scattered the dust into the air, and formed a cloud of sparkles before it dispersed completely. He blinked, and slowly, an image of a man sleeping on the windowsill formed before him.

Was he the owner of this...thing? Junmyeon quietly asked, question directed to nobody but himself.

When the long-haired man had opened his eyes completely, he turned to the little boy in front of him, who was beginning to squirm under his stern gaze.

Scary! Little Junmyeon had thought back then.

Real people didn't just appear out of thin air, Junmyeon argued mentally. He held both of his tiny hands as if he’s holding himself together while he tried not to break apart from trembling too much.

Or was he one of those people whom I could see but Mama couldn’t?

Upon realizing it, he scrambled out of the attic. And relied on the full force of his short legs to get him out of there, away from The Scary Ghost that looked like he was about to devour little Junmyeon when he opened his mouth, and flashed his teeth and pink gums. Old, heavy books fell on the floor, and dust cluttered the attic. The little boy ran as fast as he could, seeking the safety of his mother’s arms.

What Little Junmyeon didn't know was that The Scary Ghost just wanted to greet him, to welcome him with his friendliest smile.

Perhaps, The Scary Ghost’s ‘friendliest smile’, with pink gums protruding from under his lips, was the most terrifying sight for Little Junmyeon back then.

Through the wooden floors of his grandfather’s house, Little Junmyeon ran in the fastest speed he could reach with his short legs. At the end of the corridor, there was a room with the door open, and Junmyeon cried in relief upon seeing his Mama’s face. He had always felt safe in his mother’s embrace.

“What’s the matter, Junmyeon-ah?” his mother asked, and rubbed circles on his tiny back when he fell on her lap. Junmyeon continued to cry, clutched the fabric of his mother’s skirt and soaked it with his tears.

“Oh, what’s that you’ve got in your hand, Junmyeonnie?” his grandfather queried, pried on the stubby fingers of his other hand. “I see, you had been playing at the attic again, little one.” When Junmyeon cleared the tears off his eyes, he saw the bundle of papers in his grandfather’s hands.

The old man studied the pale yellow papers carefully. “Hmm... I had forgotten about this. My grandfather gave this to me when I was a child. He hoped that I would be able to separate the sticky pages and decipher the content later on. But it seemed that I had already forgotten about it.” Chuckled, he handed the object back to Junmyeon. “Are you up to this task, little grasshopper?”

When Junmyeon peered over his grandfather’s shoulder, The Scary Ghost from the attic was standing by the wall. He looked a bit apologetic. But at that time, Little Junmyeon couldn’t tell. And a shiver had crept up his spine.

When he sensed his grandson’s distress, Junmyeon’s grandfather turned around to look at where Junmyeon had laid his eyes on.

“Junmyeon-ah, what’s wrong?” his mother asked, worried that her son was seeing things that she couldn’t.

The little boy shook his head, warding off his mother’s uneasiness. “Nothing,” he smiles at her. Turned to his grandfather, and answered the old man’s question. “Sure, grandpa. I would decode this treasure someday!”

It's not easy, being a Special Being like Junmyeon. The world was full of humans, and the spaces between them were occupied by the metaphysical.

He pulled his blanket up to his nose and stared at the ghost of the long-haired man that sat by the window of his room, drenched in silver moonlight. Sometimes the ghost would place his finger on his lips, and signalled the passers-by below. Must be a group of drunken ladies. That were not human.

He closed his eyes and breathed a thank you to the stars that Yifan was protecting him.

The first time Junmyeon had deemed his ‘special abilities’ to be useful was through Jongdae and Chanyeol. With Yifan’s aid, of course.

It happened shortly after he got the diary, after he got the curse of The Scary Ghost who followed him wherever he went.

It was hard for him to sleep at first, knowing there was something that watched his every move.

However, no words were exchanged. The Scary Ghost did not harm him at all. After a while, he got used to it. He never made an effort to talk to The Scary Ghost, though. Every time he faced the said creature, the horrifying clown-like smile flashed in his mind.

At that point, Junmyeon had speculated that The Scary Ghost was bound to the notebook. So one day, before he went to school, he decided to leave it on his desk. Perhaps, if he left it there, his life would go back to normal. Or closer to normal.

But he was wrong.

The Scary Ghost followed him wherever he went, like a good bodyguard. But with The Scary Ghost around, the incidences of other elementals that attacked him had decreased, because The Scary Ghost would either protect him, or scare them away. Junmyeon discerned that it wasn’t so bad having him around.

On the way back home, he passed by the neighborhood playground and saw two boys sitting on the swings. They looked so downhearted, with their heads bent low, eyes fixed on their shoes. The taller one was biting his lips as if he were preventing the tears from rolling on his cheeks.

They were not alone, though. There was a third party with them. He was a kid like them, with eyes that droop like a puppy’s. But Junmyeon can tell that he wasn’t a real human, because the afternoon glow of the sun only revealed two shadows.

The other living boy seemed to have noticed Junmyeon’s presence, and so he flashed him a smile.

Although Junmyeon could tell that it was weak.

“Hello. Would you like to play with us?” he offered. “We used to have another friend who would play with us, but he left so suddenly. It’s weird having to play with only Chanyeol around.”

“Hey!” the other boy detested, tears glazed in his eyes. “You’re so mean, Jongdae.”

Jongdae chuckled, voice a bit throaty. “I’m Kim Jongdae, and this is my friend, Park Chanyeol.”

“Hello. My name is Kim Junmyeon,” Junmyeon said, a bit shyly. He’s not used to talking with children of his age. He didn’t have any friends, afraid that the others might laugh at him for only having had imaginary ones.

“How old are you?” Jongdae asked.

“Seven,” Junmyeon answered, which caused the other two boys to beam sinisterly.

“Both of us are six, so you’re our hyung!” Chanyeol declared jubilantly, took his arm and led him to the sandbox. “Let’s build castles, hyung!”

Junmyeon nodded, dropped his school bag to the side of the sandbox and joined Chanyeol and Jongdae in scooping up grains of sand.

“Mister, mister,” the child-ghost said, then pulled on the robes of The Scary Ghost, who stood a good distance behind him. The latter didn’t seem bothered. “Why are Chanyeol and Jongdae ignoring me? Why do they not talk to me anymore?”

The Scary Ghost lowered himself, such that his eyes were in level with the child’s. “Young one, they couldn’t see you anymore.”

“Why?” the child-ghost asked.

“Because you’re not one of them anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not alive anymore.”

This time, the child-ghost did not say anything.

“What is your name?”

“Baekhyun.”

“We can be friends. My name is Yifan.”

“Mister Yifan, can you play with me?”

Jongdae pulled his attention back. “Junmyeon-hyung, what were you looking at?”

Junmyeon bit his lower lip. “Jongdae, what was the name of the friend whom you used to play with?”

In silence, Jongdae’s answer dawdled. The little boy was writing on sand with his toy shovel. Junmyeon scanned the scrawny letters: BAEKHYUN.

Junmyeon turned around and faced the child-ghost, who was clutching the robes of The Scary Ghost. “Is your name Baekhyun?” he asked, which earned a gasp from both Chanyeol and Jongdae. Oh no, the two boys must be thinking of him weirdly by now. Or worst, they could be terrified.

The child-ghost nodded.

“Junmyeon-hyung, what were you talking about?” Chanyeol asked.

Junmyeon turned back, gripped the hem of his own shirt. “Uhm... I can... see... ghosts?” he responded. Chanyeol grabbed Jongdae’s arm. “I’m sorry, but your friend has been with you all along, waiting for you to play with him.”

He had expected for the two boys to run away and leave him, just like it had always been for the people whom he told that he can see supernatural things.

“What game did he want to play?”

Junmyeon looked up, surprised at Jongdae’s words. The other boy didn’t seem scared. But there was determination in his eyes.

Junmyeon turned around, and beamed at Baekhyun.

“I want to build sand castles!” Baekhyun rejoiced, only for his shoulders to sag afterwards. “But sadly, I can’t touch anything.”

“I’ll do it for you!” Junmyeon offered, and Baekhyun ran to his side.

The four of them worked on building a reasonably big castle of sand, with Junmyeon diligently following Baekhyun’s instructions.

Chanyeol clapped blissfully. “This was the castle that Baekhyun had always wanted to build!” Jongdae swung an arm over his shoulders.

When Junmyeon turned around, Baekhyun was already glowing in a bright, white light. At first, Junmyeon thought that this boy had a smile that radiates like a thousand light bulbs. But it seemed that the light came from the outline of Baekhyun’s figure.

“Junmyeon, thank you. Please thank Jongdae and Chanyeol for me. And Mister Yifan, thank you too.”

And before Junmyeon could respond, the light had consumed Baekhyun.

“How is he?” Jongdae asked.

“He has gone off somewhere now. But he left a message: Thank you. To both of you and Chanyeol.”

Jongdae wrapped his arms around Junmyeon and started wailing. “Thank you, hyung. We missed him so much.” Chanyeol joined them shortly, and cried over Junmyeon’s head.

“Aren’t you scared of me?” Junmyeon asked, and rubbed Jongdae’s back. The other boy shook his head.

“But why?”

“We’re grateful to you, hyung,” Chanyeol had answered for Jongdae.

And for the first time, Junmyeon felt good about helping others. He raised his head, and he saw The

Scary Ghost, whose name was Yifan, was smiling proudly at him.

“Yifan, why do beings like you exist?” Little Junmyeon asked, shortly after his mother had kissed his cheeks good night, tucked him under the covers, and turned off the lights of his room.

The ghost, who had stationed himself by the sill of the window, turned to him. This time, Junmyeon wasn’t scared anymore. He’s just a little embarrassed for having ignored his new friend for quite a long time. “Why were you asking?”

“If all of you... not-humans... were like Baekhyun, did that mean that every one of you had an unfinished business or something?” Junmyeon supplied, and shyly pulled his blanket to hide his nose.

“It depends,” the ghost answered. “Some non-human beings were born into this world as they are.

Some had different forms in their previous lives. Like the fox spirit that circles the moon over there,” he said, and pointed his finger at the silver orb that hanged in the black, star-studded sky. “He was once a playful child like you.”

“I’m not playful!” Junmyeon protests softly, and covered his pout with his blanket.

Yifan chuckled. “Not as energetic as the other children, yes.” His expression changed into a gentler one as he turned to the little boy. “But in your own way, yes, you’re a playful one.”

Junmyeon can tell that his words held so much meaning, like Yifan knew something that he didn’t.

“Then, what kind were you?”

“I’m a bit like Baekhyun,” Yifan answered.

“If you’re like Baekhyun, then what is your ‘unfinished business’?” Junmyeon queried on.

Yifan pursed his lips, and an uncomfortable silence ensued. It made Junmyeon sink further under his blanket.

“Good night, Junmyeonnie,” was Yifan’s response.

“Can you describe our friend for me?” Minseok asked, a little bit anxious for Junmyeon’s answer.

Junmyeon shifted from his notes on Mandarin to look at Minseok. He grabbed his cup of coffee and took a sip. He was arduously studying when Minseok texted if it was fine to meet up with him that afternoon. Of course, he said yes. It had been weeks since the movie date with Chanyeol and Jongdae.

But Minseok’s message had a sense of urgency to it. What his purpose was, though, Junmyeon has yet to know.

Junmyeon looked at the corner of the boy’s shoulder. “He has... eyes like a doe’s. And a distinct neck?

His hair's colored hazel. Overall, he looks... pretty,” he answered and then chuckled. “And he just scowled when I pronounced the word.”

Junmyeon was expecting Minseok would be stunned. Like his answer would be able to help him remember who this ghost was. But the other lad remained reticent.

“He refuses to speak to me though. Or to my friend, who has been trying to get him speak.”

Minseok pursed his lips. With a sigh, Junmyeon placed his cup back on the table, careful not to spill coffee unto his notes.

“Are you sure you don't remember? Or you just don't want to tell me? How could I help you if you refuse to tell me anything about you?”

From a corner of his eyes, Junmyeon saw Yifan was shifting nervously.

“Are you sure you don't remember?” he insisted. His gaze was not leaving Yifan too.

The question was directed to both Minseok and Yifan. And when Minseok shook his head, the glowing expression on the boy spirit beside him dimmed in disappointment.

“Are you really sure? Or are you just denying your memory?” Junmyeon pressed the question one more time.

Minseok dipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and fixed his eyes on the chocolate-marbled floor beneath him. Silence amplified the answer that Junmyeon wanted to hear.

Junmyeon leaned his head against the stone wall behind his chair, and heaved a sigh. He then spoke in a tone that brimmed with exhaustion: “How could I help you if you don't help me with the process?”

It was a question that Junmyeon had raised ever since he could remember. Had given it to both the living and the undead, and most often answered by a tensed silence. He studied Minseok’s expression carefully, and when he didn't receive an answer, glanced at Yifan, who only bowed his head.

Like Junmyeon, Yifan had heard that question several times over. Like Minseok, Yifan had only responded with silence.

Minseok fidgeted, dipped his hands into his pockets. He exhaled loudly and closed his eyes.

“Maybe I am not the one who needs to remember,” Yifan said out of the blue, just when Junmyeon sat on the edge of his bed.

“If not you, then who?”

Yifan did not answer. Junmyeon tossed his weight to the mattress, and closed his eyes. It had been a long, tiring day at school. Among other things like when he helped a little girl retrieve her cat that had climbed a tree. Or when he helped a lost young fox spirit, find its way home. Or when he avoided an aberrant demon from sinking its teeth into his flesh. Junmyeon didn’t have the energy left to argue with Yifan. It was only a matter of seconds before the human drifted to sleep.

A light breeze passed, touched Junmyeon’s fringe and headed towards the diary on the human boy’s bedside table. The hardcover of the diary flipped to the right, and its pages swung from left to right.

The moment Junmyeon opened his eyes, he was engulfed by a strange familiarity brought about by the oddly picturesque view before him. Strange, as the view of the wooden ceiling was not something he would usually wake up to. Familiar, because he got the feeling that he had seen this place before.

The blanket above his body wasn’t his usual blue. It was now replaced by a pristine white sheet made of silk. He glanced around, and assuaged the fear building up inside him.

This was not his room.

The walls weren’t made of concrete. Instead, they were made of grids of what seemed like translucent paper. The paper material saturated the sunlight that entered the room. And when Junmyeon’s eyes traveled through the windows, he suddenly missed how the curtains danced fluidly through space in his room, along the soft, silent air.

Where could I be right now?

He wanted to think of this as a dream, but the smooth sheets and the softness of his bed were all so tangible, he could not deny them. And the euphonious chirping of the birds outside the window were so real.

He sat up and ran a hand over his hair, and stopped midway upon seeing long, ebony strands in between his fingers. Flabbergasted by the length of his hair, panic rushed through his veins.

This was not right. Everything was not right.

He was supposed to wake up with his blue blanket, wrinkled and draped from his body down to the floor. And he should be wearing his favorite lemon-printed pajamas instead of this purple silk robe, embroidered with meticulous designs in threads of gold.

Everything was so mirage-like, as if his soul was transferred into another body during his slip from reality to his subconscious.

He was trapped into a stranger’s body!

He wanted to scream, but it seemed that this body refused to cooperate with his mind.

A wave of nausea washed over him. Distressed, he scampered out of his bed, and he toppled at the moment when his feet touched the polished, wooden floor. His knees felt like gelatin under his weight.

He couldn't understand. He was in a situation where he had no control over anything.

His breath was running low. His vision was slowly blurring before him. He propped his arms, and willed himself to stand up once again. But his legs seemed frail. He couldn't even feel them.

Strength drained from his body when his eyelids closed. Suddenly, the door to his room slid open, and a gasp reverberated, followed by a set of rushed footsteps. Thud, thud, thud. And then, there were hands that roamed his face.

“Master!” a guttural voice exclaimed.

And Junmyeon felt a pair of sturdy arms lifted him up, and put him back to his bed. Warm hands continued to study his neck and forehead. And in that moment, Junmyeon realized that his body was slightly shivering. His skin was damp, but his insides were strangely hot.

“Master, you are burning. Don't get out of bed today,” the voice was filled with genuine concern.

Junmyeon opened his eyes again, and saw a man whose appearance is familiar. With long hair tied neatly into his back, and brown, cotton robes as clothes. The man was ogling him under his thick brows, all the while was covering him with the silken blankets that Junmyeon had removed himself earlier.

Isn’t this Yifan?

“I'll call the doctor to check on you. I'll be back with some water and towels to ease your fever.”

Yifan was about to run to the door when abruptly, Junmyeon grabbed his wrist. Even Junmyeon himself was surprised at his own actions. And he was wondering what expression could be on his own face right now. It felt like he was watching a drama on television. Just that he was part of it, trapped inside a body that he couldn’t control. A body that allowed him to feel what the lead character would.

“Jiaheng,” his mouth began to speak. Jiaheng? But isn’t he Yifan? His voice cracked at the last syllable, and his throat began to hurt. Yifan - or Jiaheng - swiveled towards him, eyebrows knit in an expression of concern.

“Master, you need to rest.” His tone sounded authoritative. The sunlight that permeated from the windows illuminated his face. His eyes glowed with worry. But Junmyeon saw something else: a glint akin to love, an authentic one.

Junmyeon felt his lips tug upwards. Suddenly, he felt tired. “Jiaheng, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me ‘Master’ when we’re alone?”

The concern on the tall man’s face wavered. Slowly, it was replaced by guilt. “My apologies, Junmian,” the other man attuned, and pronounced his name in hushing voice. Like he was afraid that somebody else would hear him speak informally to his Master. Leaning closer, he stalled a kiss on Junmyeon's forehead.

Delight filled his chest as he inhaled Yifan’s scent in that short gesture. Junmyeon squeezed Yifan’s hand.

“Good morning, Jiaheng.”

The bell of his alarm clock brought him back to reality. Morning sunlight was searing his skin, so he pulled his blanket up to shield himself. Under the covers, he desperately collected the remnants of the dream he had just seen. Dreams were volatile, more fragile than actual memories. They fade easily once penetrated by reality.

His mother once told him that a dream was a sanctuary of a person’s heart. So this got him thinking.

What did his dream about the man named Junmian mean? And why was Yifan, or Jiaheng, in it? And why did he call him ‘Junmian’ instead of ‘Junmyeon’?

A dream could be an abstract memory of the heart. If he had dreamt of Yifan as Jiaheng, did it mean that his heart knew? And yearned for this old memory? Or wasn’t it an illusion? Surely, he didn’t harbor any romantic feelings for his ghost friend. But why did he experience such feelings within that dream?

Or did this dream mean something else?

He ruffled his hair and grunted, tossed away his blanket and got off the bed to start his day, while he held on to the fragile pieces of the dream that he just had.

“You’re grumpy today,” Yifan greeted him. “Good morning, little sunshine.”

“Did you happen to possess me while I was sleeping?”

“Nope, definitely not. I do not have the power to do that.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m as permeable as air, Junmyeon-ah.”

Junmyeon groaned one more time before he headed towards the bathroom.

Junmyeon had never been possessed before. Unless if he considered being followed around by a six-foot tall male dressed in brown cotton robes everywhere he went, as one. But other than that, he had never been possessed before, even when he was a child. So he could only sympathize.

Most of the people he talked to that got possessed by a spirit, told him that they had been feeling heavy. Usually their shoulders and back would be sore. Some spirits possessed human beings by clinging onto their shoulders. The desperate ones, if lucky, could take control of their host's body.

And that thought sent shivers down Junmyeon’s spine.

But in normal cases, a possession would just involve an otherworldly being that clung unto the shoulders of their human hosts. It should be normal for someone who can see the supernatural like Junmyeon. But still, it's not funny when another head suddenly peeked out over the shoulder of the person talking to him.

But Junmyeon was not possessed. Yifan was merely a ghost, or a bodyguard, that followed him around religiously. Other than that, Yifan never took advantage of Junmyeon’s body. He told Junmyeon he has reasons, but never expounded on them. Once, he told Junmyeon he couldn’t possess him. But Junmyeon never believed him anyway.

Junmyeon came out of the shower, and rubbed his hair dry with a towel. He grabbed a shirt from the closet and put it on. And just as his head peeked out of his shirt, he saw his grandfather’s notebook, sprawled open atop his bedside table. He rushed towards it, taken aback because after ten years of attempting to open the antique piece, it’s finally open.

Much more, without his own effort.

He studied it, scanned through the pages filled with letters inked in a language that seemed to be Chinese. He could understand a few paragraphs, but still decided that he needed to consult a dictionary if he wanted to study this further.

He discovered familiar names. Junmian. Jiaheng. It seemed to be a diary that belonged to someone.

“So, you finally managed to open that thing?” Yifan remarked, drawn closer to the human boy.

“Yifan, are you Jiaheng?” Junmyeon asked, as he leafed through the pages of the diary.

Yifan’s answer came in the form of a question: “How did you know?”

Junmyeon dodged the counter-question. So his dream was not only a mere fabrication of his subconscious.

“You could’ve told me that this was your diary, you idiot,” he said. Junmeyon crumpled the fabric of his shirt with his fists, pulled it and straightened it over his torso.

“But it’s not really mine, technically, because back in my time, I didn’t know how to write.”

“You never told me about your past, you know.”

Silence answered back to his query.

“But how come I got you stuck with me from the day I acquired this diary?”

“I don’t know. And I do not own that diary. If it was mine, I could have opened it at will. And remember, Junmyeon, you had a hard time opening that before. You even attempted to burn it.”

Junmyeon cringed at the memory. It was one of those days when Yifan refused to answer his questions about his past. Or why, unlike Baekhyun, he hasn’t moved on to the light yet. “I was impatient back then, okay!”

He took the diary with him to his study desk. He has a lot of reading to do.

The diary was written in a language as old as the story it conveys.

The language was not that foreign to him. He did pay attention to his Mandarin classes in an attempt to distract himself from a hyperactive dwarf from ricocheting all over the classroom. The handwriting on the diary was neat. Each stroke was elegant as it was timeless upon the age-stained papers.

This is a story about a boy who grew into a man, and who, fell in love with another man whom society deemed not fit for him.

I was still a little boy, young at seven, when he came into my life, and changed it forever.

He had that intimidating look on his face. Perhaps it’s because of his thick eyebrows giving that default expression on his face, like he was angry at the world, which scared and repelled people away.

But if you study his features closely, his eyes speak of something otherworldly. Like there’s more to him than that cold, icy facade. A desire to delve into that mystery sparked from deep within me. He was as interesting as the world of adults was for me.

That icy shadow casted over his eyes held many stories waiting to be told. Many wishes that burned like flames over the chains that suppressed it. And most of all, a soft light in a form of a gentle soul, pushed deeper by his fears of being besieged by the cruelty of the world.

And I believe my heart was warm enough to thaw that wall of ice. Even if I get defeated by the coldness of it, I know, he will be worth it.

He kept his eyes on the floor. He was such a pretty little boy. On his shoulders were Father’s hands.

“Junmian, this is Jiaheng will be serving us from now on. Treat him well, alright?” Father said.

“Junmian?” Junmyeon asked Yifan, and interrupted his own reading. “That’s so lame. It’s like how my name in hanja is pronounced!”

Without even turning to face the young boy, Yifan answered him. “And that is the exact point,” with a tone that was gravely serious. He was at his usual spot in Junmyeon’s room, with his eyes set intently on the seamless clouds on the azure sky. Even with that facade, Junmyeon could tell that his mind was elsewhere, far more distant than his vision could reach.

“You did not have the name ‘Junmyeon’ out of coincidence,” Yifan added nonchalantly. “Everything was predetermined.”

“So do you mean to say... that I knew you from way back then?”

The silence was impregnable. Junmyeon knew better than to ask more questions, and so he proceeded to read the diary instead.

My heart leapt for joy upon hearing Father’s words. But I shan’t let my excitement loose.

“Yes, Father.” I turned to him, and greeted, “Hello Jiaheng! I’m Junmian. I hope we’ll get along well.”

The moment when I found out about his true nature, I had no idea what to think of him.

I was merely running around the house and searched excitedly for my Father. I had found something from my Grandfather’s study. It was a green stone, which later I would learn to call a jade. As I entered the kitchen, hoped I’d find him there, I heard a sobbing, which came from a child.I panicked. There was no child in the house except for me and Jiaheng. The sobbing seemed to come from the other side of the central table. I roamed around it, stealthily, careful not to startle the source of the sobbing.

To my surprise, however, I found Jiaheng curled into a ball. The upper back of his shirt was torn, and there were tiny wings, like the dragons I’ve seen in story books, that protruded there. Scales lined his spine.

“Jiaheng?” I called, and he stopped crying and turned to me momentarily, before he hid his face between his arms and knees.

“Master, please don’t come near me!” he said, voice bordered on shouting.

It wasn’t enough to convince me, though. At that time, I didn’t understand the image before me. My heart was aching for the boy who was shedding tears and scales on the floor.I knelt beside him, risked being hurt by the rough scales on his back, at the same time, careful not to touch them. He squirmed, struggled out of my embrace, but also tried not to harm me.

He calmed down when the green stone that I was holding touched his forearm. And, like magic, the scales and wings on his back slowly sank back into his skin. Both of us were speechless.

I moved about to remove my hand, along with the stone. But at the slid off Jiaheng’s skin, the scales and wings began to resurface, and Jiaheng winced and teared in pain.

Quickly, I tied the jade around his neck, and tucked it beneath his robes, such that it remained in contact with his skin. If Father finds out, he’ll be enraged. Slaves like him were not allowed to keep any material possession.

“You can keep it,” I told him.

He bowed down before me. His forehead almost touched the floor. “Master, thank you. I promise I’ll work hard and pay you back someday.”

“Jiaheng, raise your head,” I commanded, and he did as he was told. “We’re of the same age. You don’t need to call me ‘Master’.”

“No, Master. I am a slave, and you are a noble. We’re both different.”

“Even if we’re both children?”

He bit his lip. “If your father finds out, he’ll punish me.”

“Then how about calling me by my name only when we’re alone?”

His answer came in the form of hope that sparkled in his eyes.

Over the years, since that fateful day I found Jiaheng in the kitchen in a different form, it continued to bother me. I never told Father about the jade I found in Grandfather’s study. Nor about Yifan’s condition.

But in one of my studies, I found the word ‘half-breed’, which intrigued me to the point that I did extensive research over them. I discovered that they do exist, only that humans refused to acknowledge them.

These half-breeds held so much power within them. I did not understand why the world was as it was. Human beings were but weak creatures compared to them. The scriptures said their ancestors pledged never to hurt human beings, and to behold them above every other creature, which included their own.

These mortal humans, instead of living harmoniously with them, respecting them, they abused this privilege. The covenant had become shackles, chained them under human rule for eternity.

I suspected Jiaheng could be one of them. Perhaps, a half-dragon. He held so much potential within him, and there were clues to his nature. He grew so tall over the years, and had great strength, as well as excellent ability in combat.

But there were some things that make him human too. His long legs seem to bother him the most.

There were times when I would look out from my window, a refreshing minute break from my studies, and he would trip while he skipped through the stone path at the garden. Despite being alone, I suppressed my urge to giggle at his silliness.

My own kind did not consider him as a true dragon. Even with the dragon blood that ran hot in his veins.

His kind was considered lower than us who were even under the king.

Jiaheng was introduced to me, entrusted to me as a present, a servant to utilize as I wish. It was fine for Jiaheng. After all, he was forced into this system. He had grown accustomed to serve pure-blooded humans. He was forced to be a slave. He knew nothing of the entire history of half-dragons being forced into slavery.

Or so I believed.

Junmyeon fell asleep while he read.

Yifan kissed his hair, and whispered. “I had been waiting for you. And I’m glad that you’re finally here.

You are so close to me now. So near, but not yet here. Still, I’ll wait.” He straightened his back and

smiled, raised his hand to touch the pendant on his neck with his lithe fingers. “For you, I’ll wait.”

PART 2