Chapter Text
Dật lạc (n) generally means leisure and happiness, often used to refer to a life of leisurely pleasures, without competition.
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"Mydei, wanna hang out?"
"Maybe later."
His friends could only watch helplessly as that familiar figure disappeared down the staircase.
"Damn, what's up with him these days? The second school's out, all he does is head straight home!"
The vivid, shoulder-length hair, a brilliant shade of orange that shimmered like the evening sun, captivated the attention of nearly every student who passed by. There was something about its striking hue that drew in both girls and boys alike, even catching the eye of the usually aloof Student Council members. It wasn’t as if he sought out this attention; he had attempted to tame his wild mane with frequent cuts, but like an unruly weed, it sprang back to life in no time at all. Ultimately, he surrendered to its vibrant nature, opting instead to tame a single strand on the left into a loose braid, allowing the rest to flow freely around his face.
Another unmistakable feature...one that frequently landed him in trouble was the intricate pattern of crimson tattoos sprawled across his body. He refused to explain them.
Onlookers would see a high schooler in a disheveled uniform, his shirt unbuttoned down to the second notch, bolting straight toward the bike racks. His black blazer, draped casually over his shoulders, made him stand out amidst a sea of white-uniformed students.
The moment the school bell rang, Mydeimos, a sixteen-year-old high school student would sling his bag over his shoulder and dash straight home.
Normally, he would stick around, maybe shoot some hoops or kick a soccer ball with his classmates for a bit. But today, he had forgotten to give that guy a heads-up, so he had no choice but to rush back first.
Mydei had to admit he had been worried about that guy. Leaving him alone at home, who knew if he'd get up to something stupid?
…Hm, unlikely.
That white-haired idiot was usually well-behaved.
His bicycle rested in the expansive courtyard of his home, perfectly parked and secured with a sturdy lock. Everything was in order. Check. A well-worn bag hung from his shoulder, its familiar weight reassuring. Check. He fished the keys from his pocket, feeling the cool metal against his fingers. Check.
As he slowed his stride, anticipation building, he positioned the key at the entrance, ready to unlock the door when an unusual scent wafted through the air, sending a jolt of unease down his spine.
…Burnt?
"Don't tell me—" he muttered under his breath, the words barely escaping his lips before he turned the key with a sharp twist. With a sudden surge of urgency, Mydeimos flung the door open, his sneakers thudding against the floor as he kicked off his shoes, and rushed inside, the weight of dread heavy on his chest.
Times like these, he cursed how spacious the house was, it was too large for just him… and that 'person'. His father had passed away early, and his mother was the CEO of a company overseas. Before he could take over her legacy, Mydei had no choice but to live independently, focusing on his studies until he was old enough.
Gorgo didn't reach out to him often.
Mydeimos understood. His mother carried a mountain of responsibilities on her shoulders. He knew this because he regularly corrected grammatical errors and language inconsistencies in some of her documents. She was more than capable of handling it herself, of course, but he had offered to help proofread her work.
He sprinted into the kitchen.
By all logic, a life like his should have been a incredibly lonely one.
"Phainon!" he called.
But on one particularly unfortunate day, Mydei stumbled upon… a ghost.
And just like that, solitude ceased to exist.
Let's be absolutely clear: Mydei picked up a ghost.
And not just any ghost.
A massive one.
From inside the kitchen, a pale-haired man with ashen-skinned, near corpse-like appearance turned toward the house's rightful owner with a pitiful, almost guilty expression. A long white coat draped over his frame, a suspiciously large smear of golden-hued blood staining its fabric. Beneath it, he wore a tight-fitting black shirt and slim-cut black pants.
But the part that annoyed Mydei the most? The damn boots.
A black choker wrapped snugly around his neck, and perhaps most unsettling of all, his eyes were entirely obscured by layers of medical gauze.
Now, why did Mydei refer to this guy as massive? And why, of all things, did he despise those boots?
Because this oversized phantom was already absurdly tall, yet he still insisted on wearing platformed soles to make himself even taller.
At sixteen, Mydeimos was already brushing one meter eighty, and he was still growing.
Still.
Still.
He had no choice but to crane his neck until it hurt.
Because the ghost named Phainon stood at a ridiculous two meters thirty.
In one hand, he still clutched a whisk. On the floor sat a mixing bowl filled with ith a suspicious concoction that looked vaguely like batter. His gaze shifted to the oven, where the charred remains of the ghost's latest culinary disaster smoldered in silence. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time he had danced with disaster in the kitchen.
Noticing how long Mydei had been forced to look up, Phainon was worried he'd strain his neck so he immediately dropped down onto the floor. Like a child caught red-handed in the middle of a crime scene.
"…Me try cook."
Phainon confessed, utterly dejected.
Another fun fact? This ghost couldn't speak properly.
Phainon could only manage broken, fragmented words, never a complete sentence. However, it was enough for Mydei to piece together what he meant.
Apparently, he could speak some kind of ghost language (?), but since the human in this equation had no way of understanding it, Phainon had taken it upon himself to learn human speech just for him.
Mydei shook his head. So it turned out Phainon had been trying to cook.
"You don't have to do this. If you're craving something, I'll make it for you."
A flicker of unease crept into the student's heart as the ghost's voice grew even more aggrieved.
"Me want cook for you."
For a brief moment, he found himself utterly speechless. A rush of warmth enveloped him, stirring emotions he hadn't felt in ages. As he had said before, he'd lived alone for quite some time before he had 'picked up' Phainon. During that period, there had been no one else but him, taking care of himself. And yet, this ridiculous, platinum-haired ghost wanted to make something for him...
"I appreciate the thought, but there's no need. You're ruining the cake, by the way."
He pointed at the charred-black pastry inside the oven.
Phainon pouted and looked at him expectantly.
"Bad?"
Oh, for heaven's sake, someone save Mydeimos. Because moments like this. When the ghost, despite his towering frame, looked utterly… adorable were a disaster for his composure. He swore Phainon could lift him with one hand, wrap an arm around his waist and make him disappear into his embrace just like that. And yet, despite his best efforts, Mydei had never, not once, succeeded in resisting the effect of that face.
Not that the way the phantom spoke helped in any way.
But this time, Mydei would stand firm.
He crossed his arms, nodding with absolute certainty.
"Bad."
Phainon cast a dejected glance at the floor.
With a sigh, Mydei busied himself tidying up the kitchen. When he turned back, the ghost was gone.
Guilt pricked at him.
Phainon had complete control over whether he manifested, as well as who could perceive him. Most of the time, he allowed only Mydei to see him, remaining invisible to everyone else. Moreover, he could interact with objects in the physical world if he so wished.
Mydeimos lifted the completely charred cake, a sad amalgamation of burnt edges and ashen frosting, barely resembling anything edible.
With a heavy sigh, he braced himself and took a tentative bite.
The acrid bitterness struck his palate like a jolt, and he couldn't help but wince as he forced it down.
Then, he turned to the empty space around him and spoke up, "Phainon, where are you? Come out and...hold me."
No response.
His eyes narrowed slightly. That was odd. Usually, no matter how sulky Phainon got, the moment Mydei asked for a hug, he would appear without fail.
He tried again.
"The cake is delicious. Come on out."
Still, nothing.
It seemed he had no choice but to pull out his ultimate move.
"Phainon, I'll be sad."
Not even a second later, as if the words had flipped an invisible switch, Phainon materialized behind him, arms wrapping around him in an instant.
The height difference enveloped Mydei in an embrace that felt almost like being consumed whole. For someone like a school heartthrob, tall and effortlessly charming, this awkward position was more than just a little embarrassing.
The ghost's cold presence surrounded him, Phainon's chin resting on his shoulder, strands of snowy white hair falling over him.
"No sad..."
Maybe… maybe this was one of the things he loved most about Phainon.
The ghost simply couldn't stand seeing his human upset.
Mydei reached up, running his fingers through the silky white strands. Phainon's eyes were perpetually hidden behind white bandages—Mydei had never asked what had happened, nor did he intend to. And yet, despite being blindfolded, Phainon always seemed to perceive everything around him with perfect clarity.
Then, he pointed at the burnt cake.
"Phainon. If we eat food that's overly burnt, it can be harmful to our health."
Phainon tilted his head slightly, caught off guard.
"Harmful to...health?"
Mydei nodded firmly.
"Not good."
With a single motion, Mydei found himself spun around.
Phainon's handsome yet slightly troubled face greeted him, his cool hands still loosely holding onto him. Though the ghost was clearly disappointed by his own nonexistent cooking skills being criticized, the fact that it could affect Mydei's health was an entirely different matter.
This was far worse. Much, much worse.
"But you ate it."
"It's fine. I only had a little because you made it."
Phainon pressed his forehead against Mydei's, rubbing against him gently, like an oversized white-furred pup seeking comfort.
"Me sorry."
Mydei closed his eyes, surrendering to the moment until Phainon finally let go. When he opened them again, the first thing he saw was the ghost unceremoniously tossing the painstakingly made cake straight into the trash, his decision absolute.
And with that, today's little incident finally came to an end, life returning to its usual rhythm.
Phainon effortlessly hoisted Mydei's heavy school bag with one hand before disappearing into his room to put it away. In the early days of their cohabitation, the ghost had even dared to carry both him and his bag into the room at the same time. Thankfully, he had been quick to insist that he could walk on his own, otherwise, he'd probably still be getting carried around like that.
"How school today?"
"Nothing noteworthy."
"Anyone...bully you?"
Mydei frowned. Was this ghost watching too many dramas at home? Sure, there had been a few dangerous situations in the past. Back then, Phainon had been so furious that he had revealed himself on impulse.
And, well… no matter how handsome a guy might be, if he happened to stand at a towering 2.3 meters, any sane person would still run for their life.
"And if I was?"
"Me punch them."
A hand reached up, ruffling the ghost's hair in a slow, soothing motion.
Mydeimos knew that Phainon only ever allowed himself to be this docile for him and no one else. If he wanted to, the ghost could be truly lethal. He was dangerous–
"Me big...Me strong...Me protect you."
The ghost practically melted under his touch, shamelessly enjoying the head pats.
—Despite looking for all the world like an oversized, fluffy white hound.
"Don't do that. I'm fine."
"Good."
At this point, he was so used to it that he didn't even react when the much taller ghost flashed a grin wide enough to split his face in half. No one would ever guess how terrified he had been the first time he saw that expression.
A familiar chill brushed against his palm—a calculated plea.
Mydeimos sighed.
"Phainon, not now. No sleeping."
"Want cuddle."
"I have math homework today."
"Me help."
And that right there was the greatest injustice of this entire situation.
Phainon, a ghost who couldn't even string a full sentence together properly, was somehow better at math than him. Still, under his guidance (limited to multiple-choice questions, because Phainon's explanations were an absolute nightmare), Mydei had actually improved in the one subject he despised the most.
By the time they made it to the bedroom, he headed straight for the bathroom. The moment he closed the door, he heard the familiar sound of a zipper being pulled open, followed by rustling and the telltale shuffling of someone rifling through his school bag.
He was used to it. It was fine.
When he finally emerged, towel still draped around his neck, he was greeted by the sight of a lanky ghost sprawled out on the floor. Phainon lay flat on his stomach, a pencil in one hand, Mydei's open math notebook in front of him. That same impossibly wide grin was still on his face.
Sometimes, Mydei genuinely wondered how Phainon could even see through those bandages wrapped around his eyes.
And somehow, by some unfathomable force…
He could still do math.
"Me do it."
Mydeimos nodded.
"Alright, show me."
He flopped down beside Phainon, lying on his stomach. Somewhere in the room, his desk was probably crying over the fact that they had, once again, chosen to study on the floor instead.
A firm, cold arm wrapped around him, effortlessly pulling him closer.
Phainon's fingers gently tucked a pencil into his hand before taking hold of it entirely, guiding him through the motions of writing. Mydei's hand looked so small compared to Phainon's, swallowed completely in his grasp. Just like how, with a single hand, the ghost could nearly encircle his entire waist.
"This question."
"Got it."
And so, the night passed in slow, steady progress, perhaps at a snail's pace, but progress nonetheless.
By the time Phainon finally got a chance to cuddle Mydei to sleep in bed, Mydei still couldn't shake the surreal nature of his life. A little cold, but it felt like he was tucked into a nest. A very large, oversized nest. If only the person holding him wasn't so absurdly big. He sighed softly, resigning himself as Phainon buried his face against his chest.
Still, thanks to Phainon, life felt a little less lonely.
Oh, but the real question was how exactly did Mydei end up being haunted by a ghost like this?
The answer?
It all started on a night of pouring rain...