Chapter Text
As he stood outside the abandoned building in the pouring rain, Chay reminded himself that he did not believe in ghosts. That was something silly that Porsche believed in, for some reason, even though he was supposed to be the older, world-weary brother.
No, Chay did not believe in ghosts, but he did believe in weather, and very much wanted to get out of it.
With a sigh, Chay lifted his backpack over his face to try and keep some of the water off of him, even though he was already soaked through, and rushed into the abandoned building.
He had heard rumors about the place, of course, since high schoolers were often looking for somewhere to go that wasn’t home, but even they took their drugs and drinks elsewhere. Not even a dare or a particularly hard shove could get most of them to approach the place.
It was close to his school, which was convenient, but what was even better was that no one would bother him or look for him there. That was vital, as he had recently lost his home to cruel loan sharks, who were still chasing him around for some reason. Whatever they still wanted, Chay wanted to avoid them at all costs. Hopefully, he would be able to find Porsche as soon as his brother had access to a signal again, and they could make a plan from there.
So, Chay did not have the option to be choosy, and at least there was no one he had to beg. Chay wasn’t exactly sure how to pick a lock, something he was sure Porsche would know how to do, so he opted for finding a window. The third one he tried actually opened, much to his surprise and relief. Lowering his bag down first, Chay grunted as he hefted himself over the windowsill. He really needed to start working out.
Inside, he could hear the rain splattering against the roof. Chay waited, listening to see if there was anyone else who had sought refuge, like himself, and who might be dangerous. Chay had managed to grab Porsche’s old pocketknife, but that would be useless if the other person had a gun or something.
Hearing nothing but the rain, Chay decided to try the light switch. To his surprise, it worked. Someone had to have paid the bill, if nothing else. Wondering if maybe they moved abroad and would return one day, Chay decided to try the water.
That, too, blessedly worked.
It was a small studio apartment, and Chay only saw minimal graffiti on the walls. The only pieces looked not even half-finished, like they were interrupted by something. Something... or someone.
After checking the bathroom, Chay tried the only other room, which was locked tight. He tried peering under the door to see if he could see any movement, but it was too dark. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there, though, so Chay quickly secured all the windows and checked the front door again before slipping into the bathroom. There was a towel hanging up. Chay gave it a sniff. It didn’t smell musty, at least. There was even soap and shampoo in the shower. They looked fancy and smelled amazing.
“Just who the hell lived here?” Chay wondered aloud to himself, peering out one last time to soothe his nerves before he undressed and washed away the rain.
He let himself luxuriate for several minutes, just letting the water warm his bones nicely. Out of nowhere, he thought he heard a bang, so he quickly shut the water off. Chay tried to hold his breath as he listened out, but all he could hear was the rain and the weak echo of the rain that was the drops of water falling from his skin. He sighed, reaching for the towel.
For a moment, he panicked, thinking it had been moved from where he had left it.
Finally, though, he felt the plush softness and yanked it behind the curtain with him.
With the towel wrapped snugly around his waist, Chay peered around the curtain before he stepped out. No one was there. He didn’t really think there could be, since he hadn’t heard the door open. He needed to stop letting Porsche’s ridiculous fears rub off on him. Porsche probably believed in aliens, too.
Chay wiped the steam from the mirror, his eyes meeting the reflection of a very pretty boy. The boy might have been pretty, but his features were soon twisted in a vicious snarl.
“Get out!” he hissed, but as soon as Chay whipped around, there was no one there.
He really needed to get some sleep. He had been sleeping rough for a few days, taking showers at school, but he never felt safe enough to really get decent sleep. It was so bad that he had started dropping his head in class to steal a few minutes when he could.
Slipping on a pair of loose shorts and an old shirt of Porsche’s, Chay crept out of the bathroom. No one was there.
“Calm down, Porchay,” he mumbled. “There’s no one here. You checked.”
His eyes darted back to the mystery room, but he still didn’t hear anything. The door was still closed.
Turning down the outer sheet, Chay flipped the pillow over, trying to reduce the amount of possible dust he would be breathing in, and set his alarm on his phone.
Doing one last visual sweep of the place, Chay crawled into the bed, which was actually really soft, and closed his eyes.
He was out almost immediately.
Chay groaned as he stretched, the sun streaming in through the blinds making him blink.
He had survived the night. Sitting up, he scratched the back of his head as he yawned. He stumbled through his morning routine half-awake, buttoning up his school uniform with his eyes closed. He had gotten proper sleep for the first time in days, so why had it made him feel more exhausted?
Before he left, Chay tossed his damp clothes and the towel in the washing machine to spin while he was at school. The place was great, so he might as well stay until someone returned to kick him out.
There were a few keys hanging up by the door, so he tried each one until he found the one that opened the front door. With a cheerful exclamation, he slid the thin lanyard the key was on around his neck and tucked it under his shirt.
He felt more productive at school that day, and was in a much better mood as he practically skipped back to the apartment, swinging his dinner in the bag. After making sure no one was around, Chay went up to the door and slipped the key into the lock, exhaling with relief when it opened, even though he knew it would.
He flipped the laundry and put the sheets in, then gobbled down his food before it got cold. He spent the next hour cleaning the place up, giving it a nice wipe down and finding a vacuum in the small entry closet. When he was done, the place was even more welcoming. Proud of himself, Chay put the sheets in the dryer and sat down to do his homework.
He was stuck on a particularly hard problem, his brow furrowed in concentration, when he heard a voice over his shoulder say, “It’s B, you dummy.”
Chay jolted, almost knocking his drink over as he yelped.
Spinning around, there was no one there. He checked the time, startled to see how late it had gotten. He needed to hurry and finish.
As he stared, though, he realized that B was the only possible answer.
If there was a ghost, he thought, at least they were helpful.
“Thanks!” Chay exclaimed to no one. “But you don’t have to be so mean.”
After making the bed, Chay showered quickly. He still had sleep to catch up on, obviously. After plugging his phone in and making sure the alarm was on, Chay rolled over and closed his eyes.
“Get out!” someone hissed, and Chay’s eyes opened again to see that same boy, his scowl less severe, in the bed next to him.
With a (frankly embarrassing) scream, Chay shoved himself back until he fell out of the bed and onto the floor. Rubbing his sore hip, he slung an arm over the edge of the bed and carefully pulled himself up.
The boy was still there, causing Chay to let out a yelp as he covered his eyes.
To himself, Chay muttered, "Not real. Not real. Ghosts aren't real. You're just tired and everything is fine. Just sleep. He's not real."
Without looking at the boy, Chay stood and climbed under the covers. He rested his head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling as he hummed to himself in an effort to calm his nerves. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to get to sleep anytime soon, but he was at least very good at pretending.
Unable to bear the suspense any longer, Chay slowly turned his head to find... an empty bed.
Letting out the breath he had been holding sharply, Chay heaved a sigh of relief. He had just imagined it. It was all in his head. There was no such thing as-
Just as Chay straightened his head again, the boy appeared, floating right above him, their faces mere inches apart.
"Boo," the boy said with a smirk, and Chay screamed.
Once he was done screaming, Chay cleared his throat and simply said, "No."
The beautiful boy cocked his head to the side, lifting a little higher so Chay got a better look at him.
"No?"
Crossing his arms over his chest, Chay huffed and said, "No. I'm not getting out."
The boy retreated to stand beside the bed, also crossing his arms.
"This is my place. I don't like visitors."
"Yeah," Chay admitted, "But I don't have anywhere else to go."
The boy rolled his eyes dramatically, a scowl taking up residence on his face as he sat beside Chay, crowding his space again. Chay leaned back, but not because he was scared anymore. The boy was gorgeous, especially when he wasn't trying to frighten him. His hair reached his shoulders in the back and framed his face perfectly. His thick eyebrows hung over warm brown eyes, a softly rounded high nose, and a pouty mouth. He looked better than the average pop star.
"What's your story?"
Chay took a deep breath and fiddled with the sheets as he began to pour out all of his recent troubles. When he was done, he said, "I'm Chay, by the way. What's your name? I can’t call you P’Phi."
The boy furrowed his brow, turning away for a moment.
"Wik?"
Chay blinked. "You think your name is Wik? Why aren't you sure?"
Wik shrugged. "I don't remember much. I just... woke up here. Like this."
Chay curled up, hugging his knees. "You don't remember how you died?"
"Nope. I guess that's good."
"My parents died in a car accident," Chay murmured. "Maybe you did, too?"
"Maybe. Or maybe someone killed me."
Chay tried to grab Wik's arm, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't solid, and slipped right through.
"Sorry," Chay said quickly, "But what if we met because I'm supposed to solve your murder!"
That actually had Wik laughing, and the sound was music to Chay's ears.
"No offense, but I wouldn't rely on someone as chaotic as you to solve my murder."
Chay pouted, turning away to throw himself down onto his pillow aggressively. Instantly, Wik appeared beside him again.
"You don't need to solve a murder, but I guess you can stay. For now. At least you being here might keep the even more annoying kids out for a while."
Grinning brightly, Chay ignored the jab and said, "Thank you! I promise I'll be a fantastic guest."
Wik nodded, rolling off the bed. "Alright. I'll stop trying to scare you, I guess, although it has been fun. Get some sleep, Chay. I'll keep an eye out for intruders."
Chay nodded, but watched as Wik vanished into the locked room, passing right through the door. When he was alone again, Chay smiled to himself. Wik was going to let him stay. He was much nicer than Chay expected. Remembering he still had school in the morning, Chay closed his eyes and tried his best to fall asleep.
As soon as Chay’s breathing evened out, Wik poked his head through the door, a curious look on his face.
He crept across the room, even though he made no sound, until he was kneeling beside the bed, staring at Chay's face in repose. He was cute. Soft. More than that, Wik liked his backbone. The night passed quickly, with Wik keeping watch. As he watched Chay's chest rise and fall steadily, a song began to form in his head. Without meaning to, Wik began to hum as Chay slumbered on, oblivious.
The next day, when Chay returned from school, the first thing he did was look for Wik.
When Wik popped his head through the locked door, Chay asked, "What's in there, anyway?"
"I think it's my studio. At least I assume it's mine. It must be."
"A studio?"
Setting his dinner aside, Chay retrieved the stash of keys from where he had put them in a drawer.
"I can't believe I didn't try these earlier."
As he tried the first key, Wik scoffed and muttered, "Yeah, you're definitely not solving any murders anytime soon."
Ignoring him, Chay tried key after key. None of them worked. Frustrated, Chay tossed the useless scraps of metal back into the drawer and slammed it closed.
With his hands on his hips, he decided to try one last idea.
"Can you unlock it from the inside? Or can ghosts not touch anything?"
Wik scratched the back of his head and disappeared through the door. Chay stepped closer to wait, nearly jumping out of his skin as Wik's face pushed through the wood, stopping just before their noses collided.
"It's not moving. But maybe if I use some of your energy?"
"You want to take my energy?"
Wik shrugged, still only half out the door. "Worth a try. Can you concentrate on trying to touch me?"
Chay furrowed his brow, not sure how he was meant to be accomplishing said task, but he reached for Wik's offered hand. They weren't touching, but as they got close, Chay swore he could feel the slightest feeling of static between them.
"That's it!" Wik exclaimed.
Chay concentrated harder, focusing everything on Wik’s hand and trying to touch it, until he finally heard the click of a lock.
Wik slipped forward, and Chay’s hand instantly turned the doorknob to join him.
It was a studio, alright. There was a grand piano and a slew of guitars, both electric and acoustic, along the wall. The walls were padded to help contain the sound.
“Wow,” Chay gasped. Crossing the room, he picked up an acoustic guitar and propped it up on his knee to start to tune it. Wik was watching him curiously.
“You like music?”
“It’s my dream,” Chay exhaled, meeting his gaze. “Mae was an artist, Hia said. A good one. I never got her talent, but Hia said I got music, instead.”
Wik nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Play something for me.”
Chay blushed. He wasn’t used to playing for anyone besides Porsche, and on a rare occasion, Ohm. But still, he cleared his throat, pulling out the piano bench so he could get more comfortable.
“You can’t laugh at me.”
Wik rolled his eyes, but he nodded his acceptance of Chay’s terms.
With a thick swallow, Chay began to strum. Then, he began to sing, his voice building in confidence as Wik continued to not laugh at him. When Chay was done, he blinked up at his ghostly landlord shyly.
“Well?”
“I think I have been waiting for you,” Wik breathed. “I think we were meant to make music together.”
Chay could only blink as Wik was suddenly inches away from his face.
Wik hadn’t made fun of him. Even more surprising, Wik wanted to make music with Chay. Chay could feel himself warming from the inside out.
“Play it again,” Wik demanded, sliding onto the bench next to him.
Chay did, and this time, Wik sang along with as many of the lyrics he had picked up on just hearing it once. His voice sounded like an angel. They lost time, just making music together, until Kim caught Chay blinking slowly and sent him to get ready for bed.
As Chay quickly ate his forgotten dinner and showered for bed, he only grew more and more curious about Wik. He was getting more pieces of the puzzle, he just didn’t know how they all fit together. But he wasn’t one to give up so easily. He would find out who his mystery ghost was.