I'm Holding My Breath for You

Chapter 1

The decorative, vintage cigarette case is the only thing with an ounce of color in Kyungsoo's closest surroundings. All the buildings are made of polished concrete and glass, giving the illusion that they are blending into the grey, stormy sky. Kyungsoo flicks his lighter, the orange flame dancing before his palm.

Cigarettes might not be the healthiest pick-me-up, but neither is sugar or caffeine, so he doesn't feel that bad about it. Besides, the polluted air is not doing wonders for his lungs either. At least that's what he tells himself most days.

"Rough day?" a tall man standing beside him on the railway station asks. His hair is bleach-blond and damaged—that's the first thing Kyungsoo notices about him. He's also wearing a heavy raincoat, even though it's barely drizzling.

"It's Friday," he says, like that's enough of an answer. "They couldn't let us go without making a fuss," he adds, rolling his eyes and offering the man a cigarette for listening to his concise bitching.

"I'm Chanyeol," he says instead.

"Hello, Chanyeol, do you want a cig? I tried to make them taste like wild strawberries," Kyungsoo ignores the man's awkward attempt to learn his name.

Chanyeol reaches for the case, but his hand goes through it and Kyungsoo's entire hand.

"I didn't notice that you weren't alive, my mistake," he apologizes for his faux pas.

Rain amplifies the visibility of ghosts—it's about as normal as seeing a rainbow after a storm ends. Wandering spirits used to terrify him—there's always something wrong with their faces, or rather, the eyes in particular; they look like they're made of glass. But Chanyeol's eyes are looking quite ordinary.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not," Chanyeol says as he starts frantically touching all of his limbs. "I'm very sure I'm alive, I swear!"

Kyungsoo shrugs. "Death's everyone's first and last friend, Chanyeol. Hades will come for all of us eventually," he tells the ghost, exhaling right into his face, the smoke passing him without much problem. "You shouldn't be ashamed of dying."

"No, seriously, I have a gig tonight! If you don't believe me, you can come and see it! We're playing in El Dorado , you know, on the 5th avenue," he protests, but Kyungsoo's barely paying attention to him.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline," Kyungsoo says as he stubs his cigarette on the trash can, ash changing color from bright orange to dull gray as the rain wets his hair just a little. "I tend to not accept any invitations from the dead. You know, I'm quite superstitious."

***

Kyungsoo wakes up in a... strange position, to say the least. He's had wet dreams before, mostly when he was a teenager, but they still happen sometimes. Although he's never started a dream with sucking someone off, there's usually some foreplay—maybe some flirting.

But no, this time the dream starts with his mouth already on someone's cock. Kyungsoo looks up—he likes to be the one in control at all times, even if he's in the traditionally submissive position. He doesn't trust anyone to give it up willingly.

"What the fuck!" he exclaims when he sees the face of the man in his dream. It's the ghost from before.

"Hello?" Chanyeol says, his voice rough.

"You're the guy from the railway station!"

"And you're the hot dude that rolls his own cigarettes! Hi!"

Kyungsoo looks around, he's in an empty, trashed, apartment with only the mattress laying in the middle. The yellow wallpaper is coming off the walls, revealing the faded paint underneath. He feels like he needs to wash his hands just looking at it as if the grime could travel through the air. And maybe it can, because there are spots of black mold by the ceiling.