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spicyjimin · 4 years ago

Note

Hmm how about a lovestruck ghost! Taehyung haunting y/n? Thank you so much!

See No Evil

word count: 7.6k

author/admin: @kimseokmomjins

a/n: mentions of suicide, character death

“Well, home sweet home,” Namjoon remarked as he dropped two heavy suitcases with a clatter, outstretching his arms in a welcoming manner. The contents within the suitcase rattled, causing you to scold him for his carelessness. “Joon, there are fragile things in there!” Namjoon looked at you sheepishly, his dimpled, apologetic smile making it difficult for you to stay angry for even a fraction of a second. “Sorry, honey. Won’t happen again.” With a gentle scoff, you push past him and crossed the threshold into your new apartment, admiring the typical late-19th-century architecture: exposed beams, brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. Industrial, yet modernized for convenience and style.

After the movers had arranged your bulkier furniture and collected their payment, the two of you explored your small apartment. Tucked away under the mezzanine was a space big enough to be a small home-office— a set of glass sliding doors partitioning it off from the loft, granting you some privacy amidst the open floor-plan. It would be yours and Namjoon’s shared workspace, although Namjoon preferred to write his manuscripts the old fashioned way with pen and paper. But due to his long legs and restless nature, you figured he would probably be more comfortable lounging on the recliner instead of being cramped behind a desk.

In all honesty, your apartment was simple— the foundation, as well as the floors, were still from the original time period. The oak flooring was worn, showing decades of use, and there were pieces of mortar crumbling from the wall. But despite the flaws, there was no denying that it was the perfect beginner home for a newlywed couple. And affordable, too. You were surprised, to say the least, when the previous owners accepted Namjoon’s lowball offer, considering the fact that the place was downtown and should have cost way more than you had paid. In fact, the tenants seemed almost over-eager to move out of the loft, offering to give you the keys by the end of the week.

“So tell me, Joonie,” you said, hand idly grazing across the rugged surface of the wall. “How exactly are we going to afford this place? We both know that your books and my photography business aren’t gonna keep us afloat for very long, especially in a place like this.” Namjoon looked at you from behind a stack of plastic containers, a tan hand waving dismissively at your inquiry. “Don’t worry about it, the mortgage is at 3.85%, so we’ll pay it off in no time.” He drummed his fingers against his chin, calculating some quick arithmetic before continuing, “9 years and 7 months to be exact.” You cocked an eyebrow at him, knowing that Namjoon always got evasive whenever he wanted to avoid uncomfortable situations. “I really don’t think it’s best to start off your marriage with by lying to your wife, Namjoon,” you deadpanned. Although you loved Namjoon, he often overestimated his financial judgments. You’d rather not begin married life declaring bankruptcy, even if the apartment was beautiful. “Is your father helping us pay for the mortgage? I know you two aren’t on the best of terms but you should really consider—”

“Y/N,” Namjoon sighed. He stopped organizing and directed his attention to you, currently pacing back and forth between the kitchenette and living room. He could tell you were anxious. “We’re gonna be fine, alright?” Your husband approached you and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in a sense of comfort. Two pillowy lips left a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, seeking to appeal to your good side. “Put some faith in lil old me.” You melted into Namjoon’s embrace, feeling pure marital bliss. “Sorry for not trusting you, babe,” you apologized, face snuggling into his broad chest. No matter where you were, Namjoon always felt like Home.

After whipping up lunch, you and Namjoon finally began to sort through boxes and containers, deciding what would go where. It was tedious, but with your husband’s strength and your Pinterest-inspired interior design skills, the two of you were able to effortlessly unbox and organize all essential items. As you arranged books on the bookcase, a sudden, frigid chill overcame your body. Goosebumps littered your arms, and you shuddered in response to the sudden drop in temperature. Seeking relief, you rummaged through a nearby box and retrieved one of Namjoon’s old sweatshirts. He eyed you curiously, silently questioning why you were wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. “It’s really cold over here, Joonie,” you explain, motioning to the area near the bookcase. Namjoon shrugged his shoulders, “This place is old, the air ducts are probably faulty. I’ll fix it after we get all settled in, baby.” You returned to your task, focusing on shelving the books alphabetically by author’s last name, just like Namjoon preferred. Sometimes it was irksome being married to a published writer, but you knew he appreciated your efforts to keep up with his organizational habits.

You were stuck in your thoughts, mentally thinking about your work schedule for the next week, when you heard a deafening crash. Namjoon was gingerly rubbing his left knee amidst a sea of shattered glass and china, a box that read ‘FRAGILE’ bearing a gaping hole at the bottom. You rushed over to him, careful to avoid cutting your bare feet on the wreckage. “Babe, what happened?” You tenderly brushed your hand against his injured knee, assessing the damage. The writer groaned in pain, and you rushed to fetch him ice to reduce the swelling. “I dunno,” Namjoon mused through gritted teeth, “I was walking and the bottom of the box suddenly collapsed, and I kind of went tumbling with it.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly clearly embarrassed at his own mistake.

It was evident that he shouldered the blame for breaking your tableware the first day in your new home. “Thank God,” you said as you placed the ice pack on his knee, “Those old things were hand-me-downs anyway. We kind of needed new glasses and plates anyway.” You smiled fondly at your husband, letting him know you weren’t upset in the slightest. Mistakes happen, and you were both only human. Namjoon pulled you into a kiss, his lips eagerly molding into yours. When you parted, you gave your husband’s shoulder a playful shove.

“I swear, Kim Namjoon, your clumsy ass will be the death of me.”

•·················•·················•

Taehyung was confident he’d be able to scare you and your bumbling idiot of a husband into moving out of the house in a matter of days. In actuality, that’s exactly what he did to the previous tenant— a rich socialite who was spooked so bad he sold the apartment for less than what he had originally purchased it for. Taehyung found it rather comical when he scared the unwanted guest so badly that the man cowered under his sheets until the sun was high in the sky.

The ghost didn’t necessarily like playing the bad guy, but he also valued his personal space. Objectively, this was his apartment. He never agreed for it to be sold to the bank and refurbished for future tenants. Truth be told, Kim Taehyung was a selfish person, in life and in death. He never liked sharing, especially if it was something he considered aesthetically pleasing. His old studio was just that: four large windows provided just enough light for painting, the lofted platform perfect for lazing about on a Sunday morning, and the nook under the staircase provided a cozy place to sketch. But now his studio had been turned into an apartment for people with no sense of style or interest for the aesthetic.

After years of being trapped within the confines of his own home— a home which had been modernized so much that it no longer felt like his— Taehyung was bitter about any new resident, no matter their intentions. That included you and Namjoon, who were the current targets of the phantom’s disturbances.

He thought it would be easy to scare the daylights out of both of you. In his eyes, the two newlyweds looked naive and fresh-faced. It irked Taehyung slightly to see a couple so blissed-out and in love. The only thing Kim Taehyung had ever loved was his art— it was lifeline, his sole reason for existence. He was sure he loved art just as fiercely as your husband loved you. Regardless, the bitter, twisted side of Taehyung sought to ruin the marriage so he could live in solitude once more.

It started with the small things— your husband tripping over thin air, or losing something he had set on the dining table. Cold spots materialized out of thin air for seemingly no reason whatsoever, and occasionally a light would be left on when both you and your husband knew you had turned it off. Still, none of those things bothered either of you. Taehyung had soon learned that your husband, Namjoon, despite being logical and book-smart, was clumsy and forgetful by nature. You always attributed these small instances towards the buffoon, which irritated the specter to no end.

Soon, Taehyung had begun to learn more about the personalities of his unwanted tenants. While Namjoon was klutzy, you, on the other hand, were quite the opposite. Taehyung noticed that you carried yourself with a sense of confidence and elegance. Despite your strong-willed nature, you never lost your temper, even when your husband lashed out during arguments. The thing that interested the entity the most, though, was the fact that you were an artist, just like he once was.

While Taehyung never liked lingering around the previous tenants, he often found himself entertained by your small habits and quirks. He especially enjoyed watching you work. He found your profession intriguing. You captured masterpieces on film with just a lense and keen eye for design. Taehyung observed the way you perfected your pictures, using a program on the device you called a ‘computer’. He found it endearing how you always immersed yourself completely when editing your digital canvas— it reminded him of himself and the many hours he spent perfecting his portraits. Sometimes, Taehyung would lean over your shoulder to further inspect your work, and he swore there were moments when you looked directly at him. It was then that Taehyung realized you were also quite intuitive. He wondered if you could sense his presence as he watched over you. Perhaps he’d test his hypothesis by leaving you a gift.

•·················•·················•

Namjoon was out for the afternoon, needing to discuss his release schedule with his editor and publisher. You, on the other hand, were editing pictures of a wedding you had recently shot. Namjoon’s college buddy, Jungkook, had just gotten engaged to his high school sweetheart, and your free photography service was the next best thing you could gift them. The couple truly was photogenic.

Trying to enjoy your day home alone, you placed a vinyl on the record player and settled back into your chair. It was an antique album of jazz from the 1920’s given to you as a wedding gift. Namjoon was stubborn in the sense that he exclusively listened to rap and very rarely was he willing to expand his musical horizons. You, on the other hand, listened to practically every genre. It helped your creative juices flow. It was rare that you got to indulge in your eclectic discography.

You worked diligently, the syncopated rhythm jazzy beats keeping you from getting distracted by other computer applications. As the climax of the song fell into a soft lull, your ears perked up to a curious sound. It was faint, but you could’ve sworn you heard a whistle—to the exact same tune as the current song. The recording was extremely old, so you assumed the sound was probably just due to old age or poor recording technique. It never crossed your mind that maybe it wasn’t the record’s old age that was the source of the whistling, but instead Taehyung, who was, once again, watching you work. He loved jazz and was pleased that you, too, were a fan of his favorite genre. His favorite pastime used to involve seeing jazz bands at the local speakeasy. Maybe he’d tell you about it after you two got acquainted.

The record ended, the needle thumping lightly as it rolled over the unetched grooves. Just as you were about to get up to turn off the record player, you noticed a silhouette in the reflection of your computer monitor. It was merely a glimpse, because the split second in which you blinked, the shadow had disappeared. You spun around in your chair, eyes cautiously scanning behind you. “What the fuck,” you cursed under your breath, chills once again seeping under your skin. Your mind struggled to rationalize the eerie occurrence, chalking it up to being a trick of the light. Despite your logical side telling you it was not a ghost, it was seemingly impossible to disregard the sensation of being watched. Paranoia ate at your subconscious, and you no longer felt comfortable in your small office. Sighing, you saved your latest project on Adobe and logged off the desktop.

You stood, stretching your arms high above your head in an attempt to alleviate the tension between your shoulders. “Jeez, I should probably shower before Joon comes home,” you mused absentmindedly, kneading away a knot in your left shoulder.

Under the presumption that you were alone in your own home, you began stripping off layers of your loungewear until you were left in nothing but your undergarments. Unbeknownst to you, the ghost watched from a few feet away, ready to enact his devised plan. As soon as your figure disappeared behind the bathroom door, Taehyung began collecting your scattered clothes. The cotton fabrics were scratchy and cheap, unlike the furs and silk he was accustomed to in his mortal life, but that didn’t dissuade him from bringing the garments to his chest, cradling the bundle almost affectionately. Once he heard the shower roar to life, Taehyung apparated into the bathroom and folded your clothes, placing the neat pile on the vanity.

The bathroom filled with hazy steam, the mirrors fogging up with condensation. Taehyung took this opportunity to leave you a message— something, anything— that would clue you into his presence. He languidly trailed his finger along the glass surface, the corner of his lower lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. His message was simple: the 22nd letter of the alphabet. V. The signature he once used to mark his masterpieces.

Suddenly, the shower abruptly cut off, prompting Taehyung to dissipate into the steam.

During the entirety of your shower, you felt unnerved— as if a 30-pound weight of anxiety had settled itself upon your shoulders. Usually, you’d take your time to bask in the warmth of the water and indulge in a mini scalp massage as you washed and conditioned your hair, but today you rushed through the motions. You toweled off quickly, eyes darting around the small glass chamber, trying to pinpoint what could have been triggering your paranoia. The dense humidity that you’d usually find comforting now felt oppressing like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Stepping onto the shower mat, your eyes caught sight of a pile of clothes resting on the bathroom counter. Your clothes, the same ones you swore you left on the floor. Racking your brain for some sort of rationale, you struggle to even remember if you’d even picked them up in the first place, much less folded them.

You ran your fingers through your wet hair in apparent frustration. “You spend way too much time staring at a computer, Y/N,” you scolded yourself. “It’s beginning to take a toll on your mental state.” Taehyung watched from the corner, finding your habit of talking to yourself to be incredibly endearing. He noted that you often talked to yourself when you were annoyed or confused. With a heaving sigh, you momentarily left the bathroom to fetch clean clothes. When you returned, you dropped your towel and Taehyung respectfully averted his attention, refraining from peeking at your naked form. He was a gentleman, after all.

Anticipation bubbled inside Taehyung as he waited for the moment when you’d notice his message on the mirror. You peered at the mirror, your brow furrowing when you saw a solitary letter scrawled across its surface. “Huh?” Again, you could not, for the life of you, remember when— or why, for that matter— you had written V on your bathroom mirror. It meant nothing to you.

Taehyung watched in joyous suspense, waiting for the ‘aha!’ moment where you would acknowledge that you weren’t alone in the apartment. But his hopeful expectations quickly soured into annoyance when he saw your hand wipe away the V, removing condensation from the mirror. Taehyung’s lips curled into a scowl, his eyes glaring daggers into the back of your head as you bent over to wash your face. Resurfacing in search of a towel, your attention caught onto the man standing in the corner of your bathroom.

Your eyes locked with his, and you felt a familiar chill run down your spine. The man was gorgeous— high cheekbones framed by wavy locks of dark hair, tanned skin, and a piercing gaze. You took him in through the reflection, awestruck yet frightened. He emitted an intimidating aura, unbefitting of his benevolent appearance. This had to have been a hallucination. There was absolutely no way that a random man could have gotten into your apartment, much less go unnoticed by you while you showered and changed.

Taehyung wanted to reach you, to let you know that he had been here watching you— that although he wasn’t tangible, he was still him. Real and authentic. That is when he let your name roll off his tongue for the very first time. Every syllable felt right to him like it was second nature. Taehyung thought you’d be ecstatic over him addressing you personally. But instead, it only instilled an immense sense of horror. How the hell did he know your name?

“This can’t be happening,” you murmured, eyes as wide as saucers. You frantically spun around, expecting to be face-to-face with the mysterious man, but all that met you was a blank wall. Impossible! He was just there, and he looked so real. Trembling hands traveled the expanse of the bathroom wall, feeling for any inconsistencies or clues as to where the man went. You were certain you were insane and sensed a panic attack fast approaching.

Stumbling out of the bathroom and towards the coffee table, you struggled to unlock your cellphone, the fingerprint recognition not cooperating with your damp thumb. After a few seconds of awkward fumbling, you were finally able to access Namjoon’s contact and initiated a call. The call rang a few times before being sent to voicemail, and you immediately redialed.

“N-Namjoon,” you gasped when your spouse finally answered your call. “Come home now. Some, someone was in the ap-p-partment.”

“What? Why the hell are you calling me? Call 911!” Namjoon lectured, his voice raising an octave higher. “He-He’s gone now, at least I think,” you responded quietly, hunching over your phone. “It was a guy? Shit, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m physically fine,” you mumbled. You were about to explain the strange occurrences that had happened while home alone, but Namjoon spoke over you. “What a relief. Look, Y/N, I’m in a meeting with my editor, can you wait until I get home?” You were never one to snap at your husband, much less interrupt him, but you were spooked beyond belief. “Plea— Namjoon, please, tell your editor that it’s an emergency.” You heard him grunt, and that is when your resolved cracked. “I’m… I’m really scared, Joonie,” you confessed pathetically. By now, tears had spilled from your eyes and were cascading down your cheeks, creating tiny pools on the hardwood floor. Namjoon’s heart wrenched when he heard the anguish in your voice. You were always level-headed and rational, never had he seen you so upset. “Alright, Y/N. I’m on my way back.”

While you stayed on the phone with your husband, Taehyung lounged about on your sofa, watching you spiral further and further into hysterics. Although he found your overreaction to be quite amusing, the specter did feel slightly remorseful. Taehyung knew you likely wouldn’t have processed the confrontation so easily, especially since it didn’t go exactly as planned, but the sadist within him felt pleased that you were frightened. You had made him soft, which caused him to forget his initial objective: to drive you and your useless husband out of his house.

Taehyung startled when the front door burst open to reveal a haggard-looking Namjoon. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was matted with sweat, evident that he had opted to walk home instead of waiting for the subway. The ghost observed your spouse as he searched the loft for any traces of your presence. Namjoon found you on your bed curled into the fetal position with the comforter pulled taut above your head. He sat down on the edge of the bed, a large, tan hand gently removing the covers that shielded you. “Baby, what happened?” He pulled you onto his lap, knowing that you found skinship comforting. You choked down a sob, still traumatized from the situation.

“I was, I was working. And I thought I heard a whistle during this song. It sounded really close, but I ignored it. It could’ve just been the neighbors… But then I saw something in the reflection of my computer monitor,” you began shakily. Despite having no organs and not being able to feel pain, Taehyung felt a slight pain in his chest when being described as a ‘something’. He was a person too, just without his physical body.

“So, I took a break because maybe I was just tired, you know?” Namjoon hums in agreement, still not understanding what had you so frightened. “I distinctly remember leaving my clothes outside of the bathroom. I left them in a pile near the sofa. But,” you gulped, “But when I got out, my clothes were next to the sink. And they were folded.” Judging by the way Namjoon was looking at you skeptically, you could tell he was not bothered by your story in the slightest. “You know what else is crazy? Get this: I’m showering and even though the water is hot, I’m practically shivering. And I felt like someone was watching me! It was so unnerving.”

“Okay, go on,” your husband urges, and you oblige. “So I get out of the shower, and there’s my clothes on the sink, and the letter ‘V’ written on the mirror. Why would I write that, Namjoon?” You ask rhetorically, but being the smartass that he was, Namjoon had to impart his own opinion. “Maybe you did it without noticing or remembering. I do that sometimes.”

“No, I definitely didn’t do that. I mean, what does that letter even mean? It’s not even a complete thought. It was probably that guy, the one I saw in the bathroom.” You could see that your argument was beginning to turn the gears in Namjoon’s mind, his brow furrowing in worry. “What guy, baby? Why didn’t you call the police? He could’ve hurt you.” You inhaled deeply, eyes squeezing shut as you conjured the memory you desperately tried to shut away. “He- He was standing behind me. I didn’t hear him come in, it was like he just appeared there! He was super creepy too, he kept staring at me.” There was another word that hurt Taehyung deeply: creepy. Was he really that frightening to you? Back in the day, he was told that he was quite the charmer, and he specifically remembered his smile being compared to that of a puppy. He was, by no means, ‘creepy’, as you so tactlessly described him.

“Namjoonie, he knew my name.” You shudder involuntarily at the thought. “I heard him say it. He knows me! He knows where we live, and he knows my name!” Once again, the panic you had suppressed resurfaced, and you pull yourself into Namjoon’s chest to seek security. “Please don’t think I’m crazy but… When I turned around, he was gone. It was like he wasn’t even there to begin with. But I know he was real, I just know it. I saw him, Joon! I heard him speak!” For a minute, you thought your husband might actually believe you— he looked concerned, upset, even. Your husband ran a hand through his hair, brushing the bangs out of his face. It was the tell-tale sign that he was deep in thought. Without a word, Namjoon readjusted you on his lap and rested the back of his hand on your forehead, checking for a fever.

“I’m not sick, Namjoon,” you muttered. He patted your thigh reassuringly, “I’m just making sure.” A heavy silence settled between the two of you until Namjoon broke the tension. “You know, there’s an explanation for this,” he mused, looking up at the high ceilings. “I saw this on Reddit, but a guy kept finding post-it notes around his house that he swore he never wrote. He was seeing strange shadow people and hearing noises.” You gave your husband a perplexed look, unsure of where his anecdote was going. “So, the guy checks the carbon monoxide levels in his house and it turns out there was a leak. He had been poisoned and was suffering from memory loss and hallucinations.”

You rolled your eyes, finding his roundabout insinuations frustrating, “What are you implying here, Joon?”

He inhaled deeply, clearly trying to control his temper. “I think you should consider the possibility that maybe there are environmental factors causing this.” You stood abruptly, your head almost hitting his chin. You faced your husband, who looked utterly dumbfounded at your sudden outburst. You rarely reacted with such ebullition. “You don’t believe me,” you stated as a matter-of-factly. Throwing your hands in the air, you paced around the loft mezzanine, unknowingly passing by Taehyung, who was sat at the top of the stairs. “I knew it! You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“No, no, I never said that, don’t put words in my mouth,” Namjoon said as he stood, hip cocked to the right. “You’re clearly shaken, and I hate to see you so afraid in our home, our safe place. But there’s clearly logical solutions. I mean, have you checked the CO detector? It probably needs new batteries.”

You laughed dryly, shaking your head in disbelief. “Namjoon, we literally moved in like, a week ago. All the appliances are new, as well as the smoke and monoxide detectors. I don’t think that’s it.”

“You never know,” he retorted, “You have to think about these things rationally, babe. It’s a possibility.” Something about Namjoon’s words rubbed you the wrong way— why did you feel so… spiteful? Were his words a subtle jab at your intelligence? Was he implying that you weren’t his equal because you didn’t attend a fancy college and get a degree like him?

Or maybe it due to Taehyung, who lingered in the area, filtering his own negative energy into the situation. He enjoyed watching the breakdown of a marriage that had only just begun. Perhaps you’d get to keep the apartment from the divorce.

“Oh, so you’re saying I don’t think? Is that what it is, Namjoon?” You were nearing hysterics, something completely out-of-the-norm for you. Namjoon approached you, his hands running down your arms in an attempt to assuage your distress. “Babe, calm down, that’s no—”

“Don’t ‘babe, calm down’ me, Kim Namjoon,” you countered, shrugging his hands off your forearms. “This, this thing that happened to me was real. And as your wife, I am begging for your comfort and support.” The look in your eyes drove a dagger through Namjoon’s heart. Never before had he seen you in so much pain, and it frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t immediately solve your problems. Lacing his fingers with yours, Namjoon brought your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles. It immediately alleviated the tension in the room, the simple gesture conveying sincere affection.

“Y/N, sweetie… I’m sorry for disregarding your feelings. I was talking out of my ass, because… Well, you know how I am. I can be a huge prick sometimes. ” You smirked at his declaration and snuggled into the broad expanse of his chest. “Yeah, you can be. But that’s okay, I still love you.” Namjoon wrapped his arms around you, elbows resting upon your shoulders. “Look, I’ll pay for a home security system to be installed, okay? Will that make you feel better?” You nodded wordlessly, expressing your gratitude by kissing his pectoral.

Taehyung watched tender moment with growing resentment. He was furious— furious that all could be forgotten after a few empty words and a hug. The wraith stormed down the stairs, lithe fingers tugging at the roots of his dark hair in anguish. When he was alive, he never indulged in romance or trysts, as it would disrupt his productivity. But now all he wanted was to be noticed and held, just like Namjoon, but instead, he was only being forgotten. Taehyung never realized how lonely he was until he found you, and now all he wanted to do was talk with you about art and music; he wanted to tell you about his life and ask about yours. The artist wanted to paint you from sunrise to sunset, capturing every freckle that littered your body. You could be his muse, his Calliope.

Due to Taehyung’s selfish nature, he had never once felt like he wasn’t in control of his life. Even after death he always got what he wanted. But this time, everything was slowly falling through his fingers, and all he could do was sit back and watch.

Or maybe not.

On the wall in front of the ghost hung a portrait of you and Namjoon on your wedding day, gleefully smiling with rosy cheeks. Taehyung’s finger delicately traced over your face, as if the glass would crumble under his touch. He truly had grown fond. The pad of Taehyung’s thumb glided towards the man opposite you, your husband. Little by little, he exerted pressure onto the fragile surface until it buckled under the force and created small, webbed fissures across the pane.

Taehyung’s tongue peeked out and swiped across his lower lip, stoic face deep in contemplation. This time, his plan wouldn’t— no, it couldn’t fail.

•·················•·················•

Days turned into weeks, and you wondered if perhaps Namjoon installing the alarm system actually discouraged trespassing, because there hadn’t been another encounter with the mysterious man. Things were tranquil, almost eerily so. Of course there were times when you swore you had seen a shadow from the corner of your eye, or you’d hear the faintest of whistles to the tune of Down Hearted Blues’ chorus, but for the most part, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Until today, that is.

You had spent the majority of your day searching for Namjoon’s blue and red Nintendo Switch controllers. You looked in all the typical places: under the sofa, in the bed, behind the television. But you also searched in unconventional places, finding that Namjoon always managed to misplace things in the most random spots, like the time he put his keys inside the dishwasher, for instance. Namjoon swore left and right that he’d left both joy-cons docked on the Switch, but as you scoured almost every hiding spot in your apartment, you were beginning to lose all hope of finding the controllers. How could Namjoon be so forgetful that he loses neon joy-cons? You smirk at the thought of your spouse losing the entire Switch, imagining Namjoon mourning the loss of 143 hours spent on Breath of the Wild.

There was only one place you had yet to look, and that was the closet. It was improbable that the joy-cons would be found amongst your clothes, but it didn’t hurt to look. You rifled through Namjoon’s hoodie collection and checked all the drawers contents. Still, no joy-cons.

Just to be sure you had searched every nook and cranny, you got on your knees to check behind countless pairs of shoes and their respective boxes. You set aside a box containing Namjoon’s old Timberlands— ones from his college days, he said they contained ‘too much sentiment’ to donate— and noticed an unfamiliar box. It was about two foot wide, and just as deep, with the brown wood showing years, maybe even decades, of wear. You don’t recall either you nor Namjoon owning something this vintage, and you wondered if perhaps the previous tenant left it when he moved out. Inspecting the perimeter, you noted the two small brass clasp locks were undone, which allowed you to lift the lid with slight difficulty, due to its hinges being slightly rusted.

Inside were various tools: pencils, charcoal, brushes, varnishes, and what appeared to be a small palette. But there, in amidst all the utensils, were the two joy-cons. Your brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of how the controllers even got inside this box in the back of your closet. “Joonie,” you shouted, your voice echoing through the open space. When you heard no response, you yelled again, only this time with a bit more vigor. “Joooooooonie!” After a few seconds of silence, you heard his muffled baritone voice filter through the bathroom door. “Just a sec, babe. I’m shaving!” You hummed contemplatively, curious at the contents of the trunk.

Rummaging through the box, you found small pieces of parchment paper lined with sketches. Buildings, sculptures, household objects, and even a small dog— vaguely reminding you of a Pomeranian— were the subjects of these delineations, each creation signed in the lower right-hand corner with a simple letter V. You appraised the sketches with much ardor, infatuated with the artist’s distinct, bold linework. From afar, Taehyung watched you fondly, his heart softening and swelling with pride. After weeks of constantly hiding your husband’s things, you had finally stumbled across Taehyung’s treasure trove; the only thing left that validated his existence. His hopes, his dreams, the only artwork that remained after his passing. The ghost was ecstatic that you were so enthralled by his sketches.

You leafed through the pieces of parchment until you come upon the drawing of a man. You had seen no other sketches of people, only inanimate objects or animals. Just like with the previous sketches, this one had the characteristic harsh linework, indicating it was drawn by the same artist. Although, it was only partially finished, with the face being the only thing incomplete. The corner was missing its signature V, instead reading: ‘kth, self-portrait, 1926’. Your fingers traced the dull edge of the paper as you studied the unfinished drawing.

Curiously flipping the paper over, you were hit with an intense bout of nausea. Memories of the incident not too long ago reappeared and reignited your fear. You recognized the man in the photograph— his feline eyes, strong jaw, full lips, and dark, shaggy hair that curled around the nape of his neck. He was sat on a chair, just like the sketch, with his left ankle drawn over his right knee, a stiff smile pulling taught against his lips. It was him, the man from the reflection. Here he was, posing for a photograph that took places ages ago, if you could infer from the worn, sepia coloration.

Instinctively, you called for your husband, but words caught in a lump in your throat. Was this simply déjà vu, or had you actually seen this man before? Panic returned, and hot, heavy tears rolled down your face, dotting the photograph that you held tightly. The paper was beginning to wrinkle under your tight grasp, and Taehyung worried that it would unintentionally rip. He was about to reach out and comfort you, when Namjoon brushed passed him, shuddering at the sudden tickle of cold air.

“Babe, why are you crying?” Namjoon asked softly, crouching down so he was at eye-level. You looked at him with eyes unfocused and wordlessly showed him the photograph. He studied it, confusion clouding his features as he attempted to discern the cause of your distress. “What is it? It’s just a picture.” You narrowed your eyes at your husband, “Joon, this is him. The guy I saw from the bathroom.” You shoved the photograph closer, as if it emphasized your point. Namjoon laughed, a mix between a sigh and an uncomfortable chuckle. “Y/N, this is a joke, right? Because it’s not very funny.” Taken aback by his snarky tone, you stare at him, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, what?” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses further up his face.

“Look, I thought we left this behind us. I’ve had a security system installed, I’ve checked all the gas detectors, I’ve even had an HVAC guy come in to look at the ventilation system. There is nothing wrong with this apartment,” Namjoon asserted with vexation. He was clearly frustrated by your behavior, but you were also frustrated with his fierce skepticism.

You stood your ground, not backing down from confronting his stubbornness. “Namjoon, I would have believed that if I didn’t find your joy-cons hidden inside this…this random person’s box in the back of our closet! This isn’t just a one-time thing. Your things always end up in some obscure location, and even though it’s the middle of the summer, our apartment still freezing. Joon, I think you should consider other… possibilities.” Namjoon collected himself from the floor, his soft, kind eyes no longer present. He was beyond irate at this point, and he began to lash out at none other than you. “Consider what? That this is the work of a fucking ghost or something?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung chuckled amusedly to himself. It was his doing after all.

“Y/N, you need to grow up and stop being so scared all the time. It’s a fucking apartment, not a graveyard,” Namjoon spat. “Just because someone died here doesn’t mean a ghost is haunting us!” As soon as the words left his mouth, Namjoon instantly regretted them. He noticed the color drain from your face, despite you attempting to act unbothered. Your emotions betrayed you, resulting in a tumultuous blowout.

“So you… You lied to me?” Your eyes contained a profound hurt. He should have relented and begged for forgiveness, but Namjoon was both proud and stubborn.

“Well, I didn’t lie to you, since you never asked,” he corrected, “The topic just never came up…” You picked yourself off the floor, a lackluster laugh escaping your lips. Of course Namjoon couldn’t— no, wouldn’t— apologize. It was something you knew about him while you dated, and something you knew you’d have to tolerate as a spouse. With a strained voice, you pressed for more answers. “How long ago?” Namjoon ran his hands over his face in distress. “The twenties,” was his simple response. Almost a hundred years ago, such a long time for four walls and a roof to harbor a dirty secret. You continued your husband’s mock interrogation, arms crossed protectively across your chest. “What happened?”

Namjoon inhaled deeply, his fingers twiddling idly in front of him. “Well, from what I know, this used to be an artist’s studio. He went by the moniker ‘V’, and was pretty popular at one time. Like, his paintings actually sold for quite some money. But the Great Depression hit and uh,” Namjoon winced, trying to spare you the gory details. “He hung himself in the loft,” he finished, a calloused finger pointing up towards the exposed steel beams that lined the ceiling. “The place has been renovated since then, don’t worry,” Namjoon said that as if renovations were the least of your worries, like a human, a person, hadn’t once taken their life where you and he sleep at night.

You were never one to delve too deep into paranormal lore— the most you’d ever experienced was a haunted house, and the occasional horror movie. But from what you knew from pop-culture, the warning signs had been apparent all along. Everything made sense: the missing objects, the cold spots, the intense feelings of dread and paranoia. Hell, maybe even your cracked wedding portrait, which Namjoon blamed on the moving company, was a sign of a poltergeist. The final puzzle piece was the low purchasing price of the apartment, as well as how eager the previous tenant was to move out. Your apartment really was haunted.

“I,” Namjoon choked, struggling to conceal his guilt. “I thought it was the right thing to do.” Tears welled in his eyes, and you softened at his vulnerable state. “I didn’t want us to struggle to pay rent, and I thought… I thought I could keep this from you, I thought I could keep it hidden so that you wouldn’t worry.” Caressing his cheek, you planted a soft kiss where his dimple usually indents, before turning your back on him.

“I want to move, Joon,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t live here anymore.”

But it was still loud enough for Taehyung to hear. Leave? After all he’d done for you? He waited patiently from the sidelines for the moment he could hold your hand, the moment he could capture your beauty on his canvas. Taehyung sat through stuffy housewarming parties, movie nights with your girlfriends, and suffered through every single one of yours and Namjoon’s date-night lovemaking sessions. He deserved a chance to feel you underneath him too. Taehyung had done so much for you, loved you so profoundly, but you just hadn’t noticed.

In his panic, Taehyung attempted to reach out to you, but his path blocked by Namjoon. Taehyung knew that, at least in theory, a ghost could take possession of a host, either willing or unwilling. He had never tried it, never seeing it necessary, except for now. He didn’t want to see you go. Taehyung pressed his arm to Namjoon’s back, a tingling sensation stinging the ghost’s arm as he soon became enveloped in an uncomfortable warmth, being drawn further and further into his host. Taehyung felt his mind being pulled from multiple directions like a vacuum was suctioning his entire soul into the taller man. He wanted to scream, he wanted to yell out your name in hopes that by some miracle you could save him, but he was met with peace as he fell into darkness.

And then, he blinked. Followed by another. And another.

Taehyung focused his eyes on you; on your stiff posture as you continuously ignored your husband, waiting for him to agree to your proposal. He went to move but felt so heavy. He looked down at his hands, well, Namjoon’s hands, and smirked devilishly. The stories really were true— Taehyung could occupy any living host. He could be with you now, feel your warmth and kiss your lips.

Taehyung approached you, albeit awkwardly, as he was unaccustomed to his host’s long legs, and pulled you into a hug, his cheek resting on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, my love,” he cooed, further nuzzling himself into your hair. The nickname sounded so foreign to your ears, as Namjoon always chose to refer to you with simple terms of endearment. He was never one to sugarcoat. “Please forgive my stupidity. It was never my intention to hurt you,” Taehyung continued, hands grazing across your clavicle. Again, you noted your husband’s change in speech, his words sounding dated and empty. Was he trying to be poetic? He may be a writer, but you’d never heard him use such eloquent speech in his daily vocabulary.

Taehyung snaked a finger around your chin, angling your face so he could have better access to your mouth. He laid a chaste kiss upon your lips, relishing in the satisfaction that he finally was able to feel your warmth. The same warmth that would soon be gone.

The sun came cascading through the magnificent windows, illuminating your husband’s face in the most ethereal ways possible. “Joonie,” you murmured as your lips parted, eyes studying him intently. His gentle eyes, chubby cheeks, and button nose were still the same as always. But in the glint of the sun, his appearance changed, but only for a fraction of a second. Gone were his dimples, now replaced with a tiny freckle of the tip of his nose. Round, almond pools of warmth were sharp and hardened, set under a pair of strong eyebrows. This face was not the one of the man you loved— the man you married. It was the face of the man from the photograph, the one who had long since passed away. He was gone in a second, replaced again by your husband’s dimpled smile.

Giving you the sweetest of looks, you felt Namjoon’s hands coil around your neck, constricting tighter as life slowly left your eyes. “Even in death, we will never part, my love,” Taehyung whispered, a sole tear trickling down his host’s cheek. He held on steadfastly, even after your body had gone limp, ensuring you were properly taken care of. Taehyung only let go of your neck when he felt his host being pulled back to the surface, begging to take control. He relinquished, letting himself be drawn back into the spiritual realm.

Taehyung could not believe his eyes when he saw you, looking down at your physical self sullenly. Your body was being cradled in Namjoon’s arms, violent sobs wracking his body as he held you close. The ghost flashed you a bright, toothy smile that stretched from ear to ear. Finally, you were his.

“Welcome home.”

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spicyjimin · 8 years ago

Text

BTS Imagine | He serenades you

Jimin:

After 5 months of secretly dating from the public, Jimin thought it was about time that the ARMY knew about you two. You sat and watched your boyfriend perform from the lounge backstage, not knowing Jimin’s surprise. It wasn’t until then you noticed a change in the choreography. The lights dimmed down as the song quickly changed from DNA to Serendipity. Maybe it’s a change of plans, to add new “flavors” to the concert. You continued to watch Jimin, knewing something was fishy. He suddenly ran off the stage with a camera man chasing after him, the ARMYs in the crowd watched as he entered multiple doors looking for someone. He continued until he found that someone, it was you. He pulled you on stage as you two quickly ran.

“ARMY! This lovely lady here~ is Y/N. She is.. my special someone,” He said with a smile, “I’m sorry from hiding this from you guys but please love and support our relationship! Promise you won’t hate on her, or that’ll make me sad!”

Jin:

Jin giggled with excitement on stage as a song that was familiar to you started playing. It was your favorite song. The rest of the boys exited the stage after giving Jin encouraging words. He smiled to the crowd, well, at you. You stared at him with a ‘Wtf are you doing?’ look. He only gave you a cheeky grin before he walked to the edge of the stage, and handing you his hand. You took his hand, nervous and fumbling as you whispered as he pulled you on stage,

“Wha- What are you doing?!”

He only smiled at you and said, “Y/N, I know today was supposed to be your special day, and I know you always tell me ‘Jinnie~ it’s ok! Your career is more important!’ but jagiya, you know you mean so much to me that I wouldn’t just let that happen~ And I also know that you love hearing me singing, so I came up with this plan– so just sit back and let me serenade you, my love.”

Namjoon:

‘Should I really do this? What if she says no?’ he thought as he stared at himself in the mirror.

“Namjoon! It’s time!” Taehyung said, peering out of the dressing room with his famous and loved box smile. RM sighed and felt his heart race faster each step he took to his way on the stage, where you were already waiting. He chuckled thinking about how confused you might be. ‘Don’t worry Y/N-ah. You’ll find out soon.’ he thought. Namjoon soon appeared out of the stage as if on cue with the song, the lights dimmed to a shade of blue, as he started singing: Expensive girl Reflection.

“Y/N, you’ve been there for me since my trainee days. You opened doors for me that I didn’t know existed, you showed me the light. You help me be a better version of my-myself, and you make me incredibly happy. Everyday is a sunny day with you, and I want to keep it that way for a very long time. So, what do you say?”

Jungkook:

Kookie was incredibly nervous. ARMY already had suspected that there was something between you two, or atleast there was something up with him. They knew that their little maknae had feelings for you, as much as he denied it. His palms were sweating every 5 seconds, he felt the pit of his stomach twist as if someone was punching him. Although he knew he was not okay, he tried his best to remain confident on the outside. He was constantly having thoughts that you were gonna turn him down or you would say you like someone else but with the help of his hyungs, the managed to calm poor kookie down and even helped him sort out his plan, giving him tips. The lights turned off, as Jungkook appeared from behind the curtain. The spotlight focused on him as he closed his eyes and sang your favorite song.

“Y/N, will you make me the happiest by being my girlfriend?” he said, raising a brow. Trying to remain calm when inside, well, he was–

Taehyung:

Taehyung held you by your hand the whole time you two skipped around the stage. You were the happiest you’ve ever been, he truly knew how to make you happy. You stared at him filled with love with his hand intertwined with yours as he stares lovingly into the crowd singing and screaming. You could see a sparkle in his eye that made your heart warmed up. You admired his face with a smile, his cheeks were brightly tinted red, you admired the glistening sweat dripping from his hair streaming down, he was happy– and so were you! He made you feel like a princess, but to him you were his queen. The bright light reflects on his face and bounces off, he stared at you filled with love, with the brightest smile on his face and his eyes glossy and filled with joy.

“I told you they’ll love you like I do. I’m your knight in shining armor, i’ll always be here to protect you. I love you so much, Y/N.”

Suga:

You and Suga had kept your relationship secretive for the past 6 months, after all, both of you being artists, it would’ve been twice as hard to keep your privacy. but all that changed when tabloids caught you two kissing backstage. BigHit continued to deny it to protect you two from the hate but instead, you were surprised to see the amount of love you got! ‘ARMYs are truly amazing’ you thought. You later on had the talk with Suga. He asked you if you truly wanted this and that he won’t agree with it unless you were 100% positive even if he did want to make it official. You watched from backstage as he stood on stage along with the boys with smiles on their faces. You watched as Suga opened up,

“ARMY, I need to be honest with you guys. I’ve been keeping a secret from you guys for the past 6 months and I feel guilty! I don’t like keeping secrets from you guys.”

“Waeeee?”

“If I tell you guys, promise you won’t get mad?”

“We promise!”

“What if I said.. I was dating an idol?”

“What was that?! Is that a yes I hear!”

You giggled hearing the loud screams of the crowds, it was deafening.

“And what if I said.. It was Y/N L/N?”

You were taken aback. Just when you though that the first one was the loudest scream, but oh boy you were wrong. The second one was twice as loud, that you wished that you were wearing an earpiece.

“Y/N, please come out here.”

J-Hope:

He was beyond nervous, silently pondering, he sat on his makeup chair spacing out. ‘What if she says no? I mean she’s deserves way better than me anyways, she needs somebody who’s always there for her! No wait– but it wouldn’t be the same right? Because she loves me! What am I doing! I better not screw this up.. for Y/N. I wanna make this the best day of her life, well for now until after our wedding.’ He thought as he fingered the velvet box that he kept in his pocket. It was a ring.

“Hyung! She’s here!” Jungkook said running in the room. He was later on followed by a squealing Jin and Taehyung.

“I’ll b-be up in o-one minute!” he stuttered, quickly re-reading the letter he wrote last night, while you peacefully slept next to him.

He watched you on stage with the boys, as they stalled time for him to get everything prepared. He turned to the stage director giving him a thumbs up as a cue. The lights changed to a beautiful pastel color of your favorite color, as balloons emerged from the ceiling. Hobi took one last breath before surprising you on stage.

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