#enjoy the old people. i think for the next batch im gonna draw a couple of the guilds youngest members to even it out

[liquidstar]

old people......

another pair of ocs drawings i finished ^_^ things have been sooo busy lately and they took me a while but this makes 22 of the main guild finished! hopefully i can knock out the remaining ones soon too. as for these two geezers ill put info about them under the cut as usual!

The lady in pink is Vesta, named of course for the brightest asteroid, which in turn derives its name from the Roman goddess of the hearth and home. And Vesta is, and has always been, an incredibly vital part of the guild’s family dynamic. She was the first person to ever be born and raised in the guild, over 70 years ago, and she became it’s heart. Though she may not be a sweet bubbly young girl anymore, she remains the guilds healer, through her purifying fire ability. Though it does highlight her self-sacrificial nature, she always puts others before herself. It may not be as apparent now, she’s grown a bit less patient in her old age, and many things in her past have left her a bit more jaded. Her care and love for her family, and her tendency to put them before everything, stays the same. She’s the guild’s stricter grandma who won’t hesitate to scold you for doing dumb shit to hurt yourself.

And the man in blue is Pyxis, named after the constellation Pyxis Nautica, meaning “mariner's compass.” Back in his glory days, he was sort of the navigator of a team comprising of himself, Vesta, Venus, and one other character. He’s also the only one not named after a Roman god, but he sure doesn’t act like it. To this day he’s incredibly arrogant, in both his skills and intelligence, and his ego isn’t even unearned, which is the frustrating part. His ability is in his sword slice- he can swing his sword and send out a powerful slash of wind alongside it. So powerful it could cut through anything, but the catch is it gets 50% weaker each time he uses it until he has the time to recharge. But he’s always confident that he’ll only need one slice. Nowadays he occasionally steps in as a navigator for Vela’s crew, or handling the guilds finances. In terms of personality he doesn’t behave much differently than he did when he was a cocky young 20-something though. He’s just the guild’s cool grandpa, in his mind at least.

[bangtanloverboys]

i’d be home with you // knj

summary - death is inevitable, it’s something you cannot escape. it only hurts more when it you die too young.

pairing - ghost!namjoon x female! reader

genre - angst, hurt/comfort; ghost au

word count - 7.7k

warnings - peer pressure, drugs, alcohol consumption, anxiety attack, major character deaths (duh), police, accidental deaths, crying, vomiting, drinking as a coping mechanism, communicating with the dead, psychics, moving on, acceptance of death 

author’s note - this is for the final tile in my bingo ‘ghost au’. this really hurt me writing it and im sad, but i hope you guys like it

Namjoon had a lot of regrets, despite living a fairly cautious lifestyle. But since he died all he had left was regretting stuff he didn’t get to do sooner. Dying at 23 via accidental overdose? Hell of a way to die when he was someone who struggled to even tell a waiter that they gave him the wrong order, but that’s how he met his end. 

There were so many things he didn’t get to experience: getting his Masters, graduating college, finding the love of his life, having children with said love of his life, growing old, retiring, spending time with grandkids if he had any. But all of that was cut short by just one single party and one single decision.

His brother, Seokjin, dragged him along to one of his dumb frat parties. All Namjoon wanted to do that evening was just study for his anthropology final that was coming up the following weekend but in his brother’s terms he needed to quote-unquote “Take a chill pill”. He dragged him over to some random townhouse a couple miles away from the university, handed him a cup of alcohol and abandoned him. 

Namjoon didn’t drink, just didn’t think it was all that appealing to him. He sat silently in the corner of the room, keeping himself flush to the wall. He pretended to sip the plastic cup that was in his hand, trying not to draw any attention to himself whatsoever. It wasn’t until he was approached by a young brown haired man that his fate was sealed. 

“‘Sup man, you look like you need a bit of fun.” The man said, a small smirk on his lips as he raised a small baggie of white pills. 

“I- uh, I’m good. Thanks.” Namjoon quickly panicked, turning him down and quickly started looking around for his brother. This wasn’t his scene. He just wanted to go home now.

“Nah, come on man! You look like you need a bit of destressing, just take a couple. On the house.” He watched in abject horror as the guy opened the maggie and poured some into his hand. He took Namjoon’s free hand and put the pills in his palm. “Go on! Feels great.” He winked at him as he leaned against a wall, waiting for him to take the drugs. 

Despite only the stranger’s gaze on him, he felt like everyone at the party was staring at him. Waiting for him to take the pills. His heart was pounding, he should give them back and just walk home. With or without Seokjin. Instead he found himself slowly lifting the pills to his mouth, throwing them in and taking a swig of the cup in his hand to wash it down. The alcohol was bitter on his tongue and they clumped together as they went down his esophagus. 

“Yeaah man!” With a heart shaped smile, the man slapped him on the shoulder, “Enjoy it man. See me if you need anymore later.” And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Namjoon just stood there, head pounding as the lights bleared his vision and he swear he could feel the floors vibrate beneath his feet with the base of the stereo. Despite him not even moving, he felt like he was spinning and hanging upside down. Was it getting hot in here? Why did his limbs feel cold? He pushed himself from the wall, pushing his way through the sea of people between him and the way out. 

“Heyyy!! Joonie! Get over here!” The voice of his brother called out to him, he turned to see the man himself walk over to him and pull him out of the crowd. “I see you were gettin’ jiggy, eh? Finally letting loose?”

“Jin, I-I don’t feel so good. I need-”

“Oh quit it Namjoon!” Seokjin scoffed at him. “Just take another drink and chillax!” He took the cup in his hand and brought it to Namjoon’s lips, forcing him to gulp down more of the burning liquid. 

With that, his brother walked away. He felt himself get sucked back into the crowd of dancers, pushing and pulling him in all directions. His heartbeat was in his head, the base of the music was in his stomach. His chest was tight and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. All he knew at this point was the people he was surrounded by. Dancing, screaming, singing. It was loud and hot and nauseating. Yet despite the heat of the bodies around him, he felt cold. All he knew was what was in that crowd of people: sweat, heat, and constant movement.

After that the world just seemed to turn black.

He woke up the next early morning to sirens; red and blue lights flashing outside the windows. That should’ve been his first clue. His second clue should’ve been the lack of a hangover he should be having. Namjoon walked down the hallway he was in and into the living room where a couple he didn’t know were talking to police, alongside a few other party goers were all sitting on the couch. 

“H-hey what’s going on?” He asked as he approached them, but he was ignored. “Um, hello?” He waved his hand, trying to catch their attention. He felt his chest tighten, what was going on? Why were they ignoring him? When he heard an officer call out for a Mr. Kim, he almost cried from relief, “That’s me!”

But the officer walked right past him and out onto the porch, where a young man sat with a blanket laid over his shoulders. “Mr. Kim, I’m sorry to bug you at this time but we need a statement.” The man said to him. The young man nodded and stood up to face the officer. To Namjoon’s horror it was Seokjin, his eyes red and puffy. He’d never seen his brother look so distraught. “Are you alright for me to ask you a few questions?”

“Yeah,” his voice croaked out. 

“Did Namjoon, or anyone else in your family, have a history of drug abuse?” The question threw him for a loop.

“No!” He yelled at the officer. “I have never-”

“No, he-” Jin cut him off with a sniffle. “He’s never used drugs before, I dragged him out to this party. And-and it’s my fault he’s dead.” 

Namjoon’s entire world seemed to collapse in on itself. “What?! I’m not dead! I’m right here! Seokjin! Seokjin, look at me!” He cried out as he tried to push past the threshold of the door but some invisible force kept him in. “Seokjinnie, please! Hyung!” He screamed as he watched the officer place a hand on his shoulder as his older brother sobbed. 

He looked ahead of them and saw a white van labeled ‘CORNOR’ just shut its doors, only giving him a split second to see the tell-tale black body bag inside before the other door shut.

At that moment, another officer walked out the front door. Walking right through him. He watched as the man visibly shuddered before talking to the officer about giving Seokjin more time before asking questions. The air left his lungs, not that he had any in there to begin with. He clutched his chest and ran. He ran through the walls of the town house towards the back door, only for the same thing to happen at the front door happen again. An invisible barrier holding him in. 

He needed to be in an enclosed space. Glancing around, he saw an open closet tucked beneath the small staircase to the master bedroom. Namjoon burst into another run and slammed the door of the closet shut and let out an ungodly scream; crying out for his mother, brother, someone, anyone to hear him and tell him it was going to be okay. The only person came was an officer to investigate the slam but no one else came. No one saw him. 

He died August 28th, 1994. He was 23 years old. Cause of death was drug induced heart attack. The pills the stranger gave him were part of a bad batch or laced with something else, at least that’s what the owner’s of the house mentioned when he listened in on their conversations. At first he felt bad about it, but he couldn’t leave the townhouse so what else could he do? Watch paint dry?

After a while the frat guys who lived in the house moved out, not feeling comfortable with knowing that a guy died in their hallway on their watch. Namjoon didn’t hold any ill will towards them. It wasn’t their fault. Hell, he was such a forgiving person, he wasn’t even that mad at the guy who gave him the drugs. So he didn’t know exactly why he was stuck here, in a small townhouse. But there he was. And he tried his best to deal with it. 

While it certainly did suck the first few months of just trying to deal with people walking through him and not being able to be heard; being dead wasn’t so bad when Namjoon thought about it. It did get a bit lonely sometimes, not being able to talk to anyone outside of his own half conversations with the tenants that moved into the townhouse.

Sometimes the tenants of the house figured out that the place was haunted; sometimes they’d bring in psychics, who were definitely fake as no matter how much he tried to tell them he was a nice ghost they always spouted some bullshit of a vengeful spirit. Sometimes they’d bring in their own ghost equipment and start talking, but soon as he got a word out they freaked and left. The place was constantly on and off the market until you. 

You were a plucky university student who finally found a place that had low enough rent and was close enough to your school that you didn’t need a roommate. Despite Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s begging, you wanted a place to yourself and finding a 2 bedroom townhouse with rent that cheap? It was a steal! With the help of your two friends plus your older brother Yoongi, you were able to get all your stuff moved in within the day!

You didn’t understand why the place never had steady tenants; sure there was a history of noises and cold spots, but it was an old house built in the 70s. Of course it’s gonna have some old stuff that needs fixing. 

Namjoon watched in silence as the four of you went in and out of the house. A few times you did walk near him and visibly shiver, your friends even mentioned the cold spots to you, but you waved it off as if it was nothing. “Just the heater, I’ll talk to the landlord. See if he can do anything about it.” Now he wasn’t an engineer or anything, but he’s seen the heater and there’s nothing wrong with it, it was definitely him you were feeling. But he just had hopes that whoever the landlord hired would say the same to you. 

He was quickly able to get a quick gage on your friends; the brown haired one being Jungkook, he could easily tell he was the youngest of the group by how the rest of you babied him. The blue haired one was Taehyung, but there was something about him that was familiar almost. He reminded him of his brother, how handsome he was. Lastly the dark haired man was Yoongi, at first he wasn’t sure about your relationship to him, seeing how he was the oldest out of all of you, but he quickly came to realize you were siblings by the way you teased each other. He found a lot of joy watching the four of you bicker and talk as you all set up certain aspects of your new place.

“Are you sure you don’t want a roommate?” Jungkook whined as he brought in the last of the boxes. “I swear, I’ll do all the laundry and chores just pleaaasee?”

“Sorry, Jungkookie.” You laughed at your friend. “But the lease is signed and I got everything I want planned out already. You can go room with Taehyung!”

“But he gets paint all over my shit though!” He groaned as he set the last box down on the counter. 

“Hey, if she says she’s okay for her own place I believe her.” Yoongi said as he left your room. “Your bed is all set up by the way.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Thank you, Yoongle.” You smile at your older brother, happy he was able to get your bed together before it was too late in the day. “Now I just gotta find my sheets and I’ll be able to sleep in bed.” You chuckled.

“Which are right here,” You turn to see Taehyung holding a bag full of your blankets and pillows. “Want me to bring them over to your room?” He tossed his head in the direction of where you claimed your bedroom would be.

“Please and thank you!” You gave him a wide smile as he made his way down towards your room to drop them. 

“You sure you don’t want me to spend the night tonight?” Yoongi asked, “First nights are scary, believe me.”

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry!”

And you were. You thought you’d have a bit of difficulty adjusting to being alone, but for some reason you didn’t really feel alone? If that made any sense. You’d think after living with your brother the past few years you’d instantly notice being alone. Physically you knew you were but at the same time, deep down you knew you weren’t. Whatever this feeling was, you didn’t mind it. Hell, the weird feeling comforted you. Helped you prove to your brother that you didn’t need any extra help. 

Namjoon was kinda baffled at how willfully ignorant you were. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve moved in and he notices you do tend to lose stuff and don’t really question it when he suddenly places it where you can easily find it again. He likes watching you get ready and organizing your place. (Of course, when he sees that you’re getting dressed or getting ready for bed he’ll give you your privacy.) Sometimes he’ll kinda give some ghosty help and straighten up some of the crooked frames you hung up. Being the friendly ghost roommate he is. 

You called the landlord not too long ago and he said that a lot of the past tenants had complained about it not working or it always being cold in the house so he told you he was just going to replace it. You were excited! Brand new heater! And with the nights starting to get colder, you’re really going to need it. 

It was on a Tuesday when the landlord came to change the heater, which was strange. Namjoon watched as you let the landlord in to work as you left for your early morning class, now the few times he’s seen the landlord and stuff being fixed is few. Normally he’ll have a professional come over and work on it, that’s what happened a few years ago when he accidentally shoved a spoon down the kitchen drain and the tenant called his services. 

He watched with curiosity as the landlord dragged in the brand new heater, box in all, as well as his tool box and got to work. Something in the back of Namjoon’s mind didn’t feel right, so he kept an eye on the man as he installed the heater himself. Again, he wasn’t an electrician and knew nothing of installing heaters, but he knew that he was doing it wrong. He was pushing and slamming against it, trying to get it to fit on the pipes. Namjoon anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, debating on trying to fuck with him and push the heater off. But before he could even do anything, you came home and the landlord dusted off his hands and closed the door to the heater. 

You were so happy that it was finished, thanking the landlord profusely for getting you a new one and installing it. While it was gonna take a bit off of your deposit, and you were internally cringing at that, you knew it was a well needed thing to be done. Soon as he left, you turned on the heat, as it was a cool November day and your professor didn’t bother turning on the heat in her class at all. With the heat on, you grabbed some blankets and snuggled up to watch Netflix the rest of the day, not bothering to work on your essay that was due in a few days. 

As the day slowly came to a close, you realized you were getting a small headache. You didn’t really think much of it, just popped an aleve and drank some water. Usual things that helped cure your headaches, but it didn’t seem to let up. You glanced at the time, it was about 7:30. “Might as well hit the hay early.” You yawned, stretching out and made your way to your room. You did stumble around a bit, damn did you not notice how tired you were? Not bothering to change out of your day clothes, you just crawled right into bed and fell asleep. 

“Not good, this is very not good.” Namjoon was rightfully freaking out. The heater was not properly installed at all and as he couldn’t breathe, he knew that whatever was happening to you was not good. He scoured all over the house, looking for some sort of alarm he could set off, wake you up, get you out of the house. As it turns out, the fire alarm was busted. The landlord was too cheap to fix it and not bother telling you. He constantly went back and forth checking on your to make sure your chest was still rising and falling as he frantically tried to do anything to wake you up. 

Nothing worked though. He hadn’t felt this frustrated since he first died and everyone was walking through him. He wanted to scream, but nothing worked. He couldn’t do much but watch you. Wait for you to wake up and realize something was wrong. Wait for you to die. Which ever happened first and he hoped it was the former. But no matter how much he hoped and prayed to whatever god there was out there, it was fruitless. 

It was 1:36 am when you stopped breathing.

Namjoon lets out a choked out sob, he can’t believe it. He should’ve done something. He should’ve pushed the heater over while the landlord was still here. He should’ve done something to turn it off before you started suffering from the carbon monoxide that was pouring through your vents. He buried his head in his hands and he just cried. Cried for you, for your family. You had so much life ahead. 

“Mmhmm, what’s going on?”

He stilled, he looked up and saw you on the floor, holding your head. He quickly glanced between you and your body and quickly jumped into action. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” He got on his knees to help you to your feet, thankfully in your confusion you let him help you up and quickly escorted you away from your room. He wasn’t sure how you were going to react to the fact you had died, much less seeing your own dead body right in front of you. “Just follow me, you’re going to be okay.” He said as he brought you over to the couch and sat you down. 

“Hmm, who are you? Where am I?” You were still very dazed, he wasn’t sure if that was just a side effect of the poisoning or just general confusion of death. Did different deaths affect ghosts differently? Or was it random to each person? 

“My name is Namjoon, we’re in your house.” He answered as he knelt in front of you.

Your eyes slowly started focusing on him and when your vision cleared to see the stranger in your house, you rightfully screamed. “Who the fuck are you!? What are you doing in my house?!” You shouted scrambling to get away from him. “Get out before I call the police!!”

“Hey hey hey, wait!” He called out after you as you got to your feet and ran back to your room. “Don’t go in there! Wait! Y/N!”

Soon as you crossed the threshold of the room you screamed again. Because there you were, in bed. Not moving. Not breathing. You fell to your knees and screamed again; in horror, confusion, fear. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you just leaned into it, collapsing into the arms of a complete stranger. 

Namjoon held you as you sobbed into him, fists tight around the shirt he died in. He tried his best to be a soothing presence for you, rubbing circles into your back and not letting you go until several hours had passed. A normal human being probably would’ve passed out from exhaustion by now, but you weren’t human anymore. You were a ghost. 

By the time you had stopped crying the sun was starting to rise, you let Namjoon help you to your feet and back to the living room. You both sat down on the couch in silence, besides a couple of sniffles from you. 

“Are. . are you the Grim Reaper?” You asked, your voice groggy from crying. 

“Hm? Oh no, I uh, I’m a ghost. Like you actually.” He replied with a nervous chuckle. “I died here.”

“I figured,” you wiped your nose on the back of your hand. “Landlord said someone died back in ’94, I just thought it was some. . .some old guy. Old age. Didn’t think he’d be-you’d be close to my age.”

“How old are you?” He asked, trying to make light conversation and distract you. 

“Uh, I turned 21 last month.” You gave him a tight smile. Then the two of you fell into silence.

“I’m 23, by the way.” God, it’s been so long since he’s had an actual conversation with someone that he completely forgot how to talk to people. 

“But wouldn’t you be-”

“Nah I don’t really count the years afterward much. I don’t age and can’t leave the house, what’s the point in counting the years.” He scratched the back of his neck. 

“Can’t leave? What do you mean?” You looked at him, confused. 

“Uh. . . you saw Beetlejuice right?” You nodded. “Kinda like that? Only instead of being teleported to some other sand dimension, you just get. . .blocked.”

“I guess there’s also no ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased’ either.” You let out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, that would’ve been very helpful.” He gave you a small, dimpled smile. Then the silence fell over you again, the only noise was the shudder of the heater as it shut off, then there was complete silence.

“How long?” You keep your gaze focused on your lap, pulling on your fingers. 

“Hmm?”

“How long. . .are we going to be here?” Your body was still in the other room, how long until someone notices you were missing school? How long would it take your brother to know that you weren’t contacting him? You could go days without talking with him. . .

“Here? I don’t know. . . as for someone to notice. . .that all depends on the people around you. I died when there was just a frat party, so it was noticed immediately. . .”

You furrowed your brows at that, it sounded familiar. . .why did that sound familiar? You knew for a fact you didn’t research the one death in this house, but at the same time you feel like you’ve been told a story like that before. . . 

It was Jungkook who found you a day and a half later. 

“Y/N? Hello?” He was banging on the door, looking in between the windows. Namjoon held you close as you started to cry, you didn’t want Jungkook to see this. He shouldn’t have to see this. He must’ve found the hide-a-key because moments later he was in, you clung tighter onto Namjoon as your best friend of 10 years looked past you. 

“Y/N?” He called out as he walked in, you turned your head into Namjoon’s chest as your friend made his way towards your room. You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard him talk. “Hey you okay? Haven’t seen you at school. . . Y/N? Y/N? Hey wake up-” He must’ve realized because next thing you know he’s running out of the house, right through you and Namjoon, he stumbles outside and onto the small patch of grass that is your lawn. 

You pull yourself away from Namjoon’s grip, throwing yourself to the open door where you see Jungkook throwing up whatever's in his stomach and crying. You wanted to burst out of the house and just hold him, tell him you were okay, tell him you loved him one last time. But you couldn’t, all you could do was stand there and watch as he pulled out his phone and dialed the emergency number.

Soon enough there was a fire track, an ambulance, and several police cars lining the street. Namjoon tried to pull you away so you didn’t have to see what was going on, but you refused. You needed to see, you had to know what was going on. What was going to happen. BUt all those thoughts were thrown out the door when you saw your brother frantically pull up and run towards the house, pushing past officers trying to keep him away from the scene.

“Y/N?!” he screamed as the officers continued to hold him back. “Where’s my sister!? Is she okay?! Y/N!!” 

“Yoongi! Yoongi I’m right here!” You screamed, banging against the force that confined you to the townhouse. Not caring if first responders walked right through you, you didn’t care. You just wanted your brother. 

“Yoongi,” You saw Jungkook walk over to him, tears still falling from his face. You watched as the realization fell on his face. You were gone. 

“No. No no no no no NO!” He clawed hysterically at the officers, begging and screaming at them to let him go. They only did as he fell to his knees, Jungkook right next to him and pulled him in close. Both of them crying their hearts out for you as people watched from beyond the police tape. 

With the way your heater was improperly placed, it was an easy open and shut case. Carbon monoxide poisoning. Manslaughter. Your landlord was arrested and charged, plead guilty. He’ll get 3 years in prison. But that does little to resolve you or your family's grief. 

It takes a while before your family has access to your house again, all the carbon monoxide cleared out from the space. The new landlady gives Yoongi a month to clear out your stuff. You watch there as your mom, dad, Yoongi, Jungkook, and Taehyung all stop by and help try and organize boxes. No tears are spared through the entire time, from them and your family. 

Namjoon feels a bit awkward, staying off in the corner as you sit next to your mom as she folds all your clothes and puts them into boxes. He listens to your family as they tell stories about you, reminiscing on memories. He keeps a close eye on your though, despite him dying before, he never saw his family mourn. He’s unsure how you might deal with seeing them cry and divide up your stuff. 

You only start to lose it when Yoongi finds the pink stuffed elephant he’d given you many years ago, hiding away amongst your pillows. When he pulls out the stuffed animal that was hidden away, you watched as he ran his thumb over the furry creature. He brought it close to his chest and let out a choked out sob. Unsure how much more you were able to take, you let out a scream.

Namjoon quickly ran over to the bedroom where you were on the floor, screaming and crying as Yoongi stood there crying, completely unaware of what was going on before him. “Hey hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He tried to calm you, but you weren’t having it.

“No! It’s not okay, Namjoon! I’m dead! Maybe you’d have time to accept things the way they were but I can’t!” You shouted, pushing him away from you. You let out another twisted scream that turned into a sob, shaking Namjoon to his very core. The amount of power and energy you put into that wail shook the bookcase behind you, a few of the books falling from their shelves. The man just sat there across from you as you curled into a ball and just cried, and cried, and cried. Not sure what else to say. What do you say to a girl who was wrongfully killed in her sleep? There’s nothing. 

So caught up in your emotions and trying to keep you calm, neither of you see Yoongi notice stare at the bookcase and the fallen books. 

The next few times your family and friends come to pack things up, Namjoon stays with you in the closet. Saying something about giving them space and you need space as well. At first you protest against it, not wanting to be confined to an even smaller space. But after watching your father tear up as he packed away your photos, you agreed. You couldn’t take much longer. 

Several days had passed and all that was left in your townhouse was just the furniture. Your parents and brother arguing over who could keep what. There’s still a few boxes of your things scattered around the house, you wish you could steal a book or something to keep yourself occupied at least but you’d know they’d notice and find it right away. 

Lightning cracks against the sky as rain pours down. To pass the time, Namjoon was telling you stories about the other tenants that had lived here; the frat boys, the families, the stoners, etc. You were in the middle of telling him a story about how you and Jungkook met Taehyung, how he at 17 years old stuck a bug up his nose on a dare when the front door slammed open. Lightning flashed behind the figure, giving you a quick outline of your brother with a bottle in his hand.

“Oh on, no no no.” You stood up to walk over to Yoongi but he just walked right through you. Soaked from the rain, he probably didn’t even feel the cold spot that was you. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Namjoon asked as your brother dropped his bag on the floor, taking another swig of the whiskey in his hand. 

“Yoongi, he-he doesn’t like drinking. . .he only does when. . .” Your voice trailed off. Hurt is evident in your eyes as he places the alcohol on the ground and shuffles around in his backpack. Pulling out a black box and frantically tore it open, pulling out a small speaker and wires. 

“Come on, turn on you. . stupid fuckin’ thing.” He slurred as he pushed several buttons on the speaker until it blarred to life, a loud buzzing noise filling the living room. “Y/N? Are you there?”

Your eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of your head. Never in your life did you think your brother would go to such lengths as to buy a spirit box?! You looked to Namjoon, unsure of what to do. He’s told you a couple times people figured out the place was haunted and they’d try to communicate with him, but this was different. He was looking for you. He only gestured for you to speak. 

“Yoongi?” Soon as the words left your mouth, a robotic voice left the speakers and you swear he jumped ten feet in the air. 

“Is-is it really you?” He clung to the speaker, bringing it closer to his face. 

“It’s me,” you said. “I’m here.” The robotic voice followed after your’s. Yoongi let out a small cry, relieved you were here. You tried to say more but all that came out was garbled and mixed up. “Namjoon! What do I do?!”

“Calm down, small phrases.” Namjoon said, the spirit box picked up on his voice, repeating him as well. 

“Y/N, are we alone?” Your brother stilled, looking around the room. 

“No, someone else.” You said, sticking to the advice of small words and phrases. 

“Who?”

“Namjoon, friend.” The man introduced himself. “Died here too.”

“This is. . .this is great? I think? Y/N, I- I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” His eyes welded up with tears as he spoke.

“It’s. . okay.” You slowly made your way over to your brother, you placed your hand right over his cheek. “I love you.”

You weren’t sure if he felt your presence or not but needless to say he shut off the machine and burst into tears, you cried as he cried. He sat down on the couch, taking a few more swigs of his bottle of whiskey. His cries eventually evolved into snores as he passed out. You could feel Namjoon’s eyes on you as you attempted to brush the hair from his eyes. 

“I’m glad he didn’t do anything too stupid,” you sighed as you stood. “Or dangerous.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Y/N.” Namjoon said, as you made your way back over to him. Both of you just stand there, staring at your sleeping brother. 

“Not your fault,” you responded. “Just, god, I hope someone takes care of him. . .”

“You have a very loving and caring family, Y/N. He’ll be okay,” he wrapped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into him. As time passed, you’ve gotten somewhat closer. You can’t help but be friendly with him as he’s the only other person you have, being stuck in a 2 bedroom, 1 and a half bath townhouse for the rest of eternity.

When Yoongi woke up the next morning he was grumpy, per usual of him drinking. He didn’t touch the spirit box though. Didn’t even look at it. He just shoved it in his backpack and left, leaving the whiskey behind. You’re glad he left it behind, but at the same time neither of you don’t know what to do with it. 

Namjoon tried to teach you to harness some of your energy to move stuff, him having several years under his belt. He’s able to move things around with little to no struggle, seeing how he was able to move your stuff around before. You however, struggle to move it even a centimeter. But he tells you not to worry, saying it did take him several years to master. 

About a week after your brother came by there’s a small crowd of people outside the door. Before you can even warn Namjoon, the door opens up and reveals him, Jungkook, Taehyung, a short blond man you don’t recognize, and-

“Seokin?!” Namjoon almost instantaneously recognized his brother, only he looked. . .older.

“You know him?” You almost had eyes as wide as he does, staring at him as he moves with the group of people into the kitchen. 

“Yeah, he’s-he’s my brother.” He feels tears start to well up, stinging as he blinks them back. 

“Your. . that would make you-”

“Taehyung, what am I doing here? You haven’t told me anything.” The eldest man complained as he settled into a chair.

“Dad, I told you just. . .just listen. Please.” Your blue haired friend sighed, giving his dad’s hand a quick squeeze. 

You can only stare at Namjoon who in turn only stares at Taehyung and his father. That’s why his story sounded familiar. You vaguely remember hearing your friend’s dad say something about having a brother that died young. An accident. At a house. Your house. 

The group of people settled around the table, only one left standing was the blond stranger who kept his eyes closed as he took a few deep breaths. His face was scrunched up every so slightly, like he was feeling for something.

“Oh no,” Namjoon groaned. “They brought a psychic.”

“I feel. . .” He started.

“Watch he’s going to say vengeful or something like that,” your ghostly friend crossed his arms with a huff.

“Oh I feel a lot of different things,” he giggled as he opened his eyes, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Mainly confusion but. . .there’s some relief and happiness mainly surrounding you sir.” The psychic pointed to Seokjin, who looked even more confused. 

“Are they here?” Yoongi asked him as he settled down in his seat.

“Yes, your sister and your brother are in the room.” he said with a smile. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Seokjin raised a brow in disbelief. “No, Taehyung. I’m not going to deal with some phony who is going to just make shit up about my brother” He started to get up from his seat. 

“Dad, wait!” Taehyung called after him.

“Pink! He likes the color pink!”

“Does the color pink mean anything to you?” The psychic said, stilling Seokjin. 

“Pink was his favorite color, but to anyone who asked him what his favorite color was it was orange.” Namjoon just spouted off the fact about his brother. The psychic didn’t repeat the statement verbatim, but got the point across nonetheless. 

“Mr. Kim, please just listen to what Jimin has to say. True me.” Your brother pleaded with him. Seokjin walked back to the table and took his seat once again. You could see his eyes were watering, like his brother he was blinking back tears. 

“Continue.” He gave a small nod to the blond man, now known as Jimin, who smiled back in return. 

“Now, we’re here to talk to Y/N and Namjoon, correct. That’s their names.” The table all nodded in response. “Okay, they’re here. They’re a bit confused so I’ll repeat my briefing. Hello, my name is Park Jimin. I’m a psychic medium. I can’t exactly see or hear you, but I can feel your energy and emotions. So please be gentle.” He gave a small laugh as he settled himself in your kitchen chair and closed his eyes. “Your family has questions, I’m here to help translate your answers for you. Family, if you please.”

“If Y/N is really here. . . what’s something only she and I would know?” Jungkook said, you had a feeling he was suspicious of this as well, just more quiet about it, possibly not wanting to insult Yoongi or Jimin. 

You felt your cheeks burn as a memory popped in your head, immediately knowing exactly what proof he needed. “He uh, stole my first kiss when I was 13 underneath the monkey bars.” You let out a small chuckle at the memory.

Almost instantaneously, Jimin burst out in a giggle. “Oh my gosh, I’m getting monkey bars?” He kept his eyes closed as he brought his hands to his cheeks. You were keeping your eyes focused on the psychic, but out of the corner of your eyes you saw Jungkook stiffen. “Oh my face is red. You stole her first kiss.” He opened his eyes, a huge smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry what?” Yoongi immediately turned to the younger boy, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Shush, it’s her.” He dismissed your brother as he leaned forward on the table, soaking in every word that Jimin said. 

“Dad, do you want to say something?” Taehyung looked to his father who kept his arms crossed and his face stern. Glancing between him and Namjoon as he stood right next to him, you finally were able to see somewhat of a resemblance between them. The same messy dark hair, same stern eyebrows, you could only imagine what Mr. Kim looked like when he was Namjoon’s age. 

“. . . Who was it. . .” His voice cracked as he spoke. 

Namjoon paused, he hadn’t thought of the stranger in many years. . .did they never find him? All he recalls of him was a heart shaped smile and brown hair. He can’t recall much else about him, looking very much normal. Like the rest of the party. 

“Hmm,” He watched as Jimin’s face scrunched up a bit. “He doesn’t know, all he remembers is the smile and his hair color.” He brought his hand to his mouth, gesturing to it. “It was a very specific shape too, I see it in my mind perfectly. I wanna say. . . heart shaped?”

Soon as the words left his mouth, Seokjin broke out into a sob. Namjoon watched as his son, his nephew, rumbed comforting circles on his back. 

“Hoseok, fucking Jung Hoseok.” He choked out, hiding his face from the rest of the table. 

Namjoon reached out to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. Trying to let him know that it’s okay, he’s not mad. It’s okay. 

“Seokjin,” Jimin started. “Your brother doesn’t harbor any ill will towards him. He forgave him a long time ago.” He finished with a smile. 

“But it’s my fault he’s dead.” He managed to get out. “I brought him to the party, I gave him alcohol. I was the one complaining to Hoseok about him needing to chill out. I caused my brother’s death!”

Namjoon froze at this information. He looked to you, who seemed equally stunned. The whole table seemed to be stunned into silence. 

“I thought it was him for a while, but no one saw him give Namjoon the drugs. I had no evidence. Hoseok’s dad was chief of police so even if I did it would’ve been swept under the rug.” Seokjin finished as he wiped his tears away. The entire table stayed quiet, waiting. 

Namjoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, despite the action doing nothing, it calmed him down. “It’s alright, Jinnie. I forgive you.” He focused all his energy onto his hand that was placed on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You need to forgive yourself.” He must’ve felt it because he started staring at his shoulder.

“He forgives you, Mr. Kim.” Jimin repeated softly. “But he thinks you need to forgive yourself. You can’t change the past. He learned that a long time ago. It’s time to let go.”

Eyes not leaving his shoulder, he nodded. “Okay. Okay Joonie.” He let out in a soft voice. 

Jimin conducts the meeting for a little while longer, your respective families letting you know that you are always in their thoughts and how much they love you. You and Namjoon stayed near each other the whole time, giving each other the support you needed as you all reminisced on memories. 

As the meeting  started to come to a close, the blond psychic said something. “Now, this is not usually conventional for me but I feel like it’s necessary.” 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, looking at the man with concern. 

“Both Namjoon and Y/N need to move on. It’s clear to me they have no unfinished business, so the reason they’re still here isn’t that.” He explained. “Sometimes when people die young they just get stuck behind, it’s not common but it happens.”

“So this will be our last goodbye?” Jungkook’s big doe eyes started to well with tears again.

“Yes, it will be.” He nodded. “Please say your final words.”

“Y/N,” Yoongi started, you watched as your brother’s lip trembled, trying to find the right words to say to you. “There’s so much I want to say but I can’t get it out. . I-I love you. You’ll always be my baby sister.”

Next up was Jungkook, who was keeping his eyes squeezed shut. “I wish. . .I wish I could’ve done more for you. I miss you and- and I’ll never forget you.”

“Namjoonie. . .” Seokjin began. “It seems like I just got you back and now I’m losing you again.” He let out a weak laugh. “I love you. You’re always in my thoughts.”

Finally was Taehyung, who just sat there with his lips pursed in thought. “Uncle Namjoon. . . I’m glad I at least got to meet you. . .kinda.” He smiled lightly. “Thank you for being there for Y/N. Please watch over her, she’s kind of a mess sometimes.” He laughed, causing the table to erupt in chuckles. 

“Hey, I’m not that much of a mess!” You countered.

“Yes, you are.” Namjoon asserted as Taehyung finished his thought.

“Y/N, I’m. . . I’m gonna miss you. I’ll always be your bug.” He concluded. The table turned their attention back towards Jimin, who was wiping away tears. 

“They’re not saying anything but it’s clear that they love you,” he said with a smile as he dabbed his under eyes with a handkerchief. “Now, Namjoon and Y/N. Please stand behind me and put your hands on my shoulders.” You followed his instructions, placing your hands on his shoulders, causing him to shiver. “Ooh cold. Now, join hands everyone.” He held out his hands for Yoongi and Taehyung to take. They did and the rest followed suit. 

They all sat there in silence, eyes closed. You and Namjoon looked to each other, neither of you knew what was going to happen next. He’s tried for years to move on physically saying he’s moving on or had no more unfinished business, meditating. Nothing worked. Maybe he was stuck and needed a real and proper psychic’s help?

Suddenly warmth covered you and Namjoon. It’s been years since he’d felt warmth like this. He let out a sigh as the feeling enveloped him. He looked over to you and you had a relaxed smile on your face, content with everything. The sadness he was so used to seeing on your face was now replaced with a look of peace. If he was to look in the mirror, he was sure he’d look the same. 

There was no light that neither of you could recall going into. You both just watched your world melt away into the next.