My Roommate is Dead | Minsung

The Intruder

"What are you...did you go through my phone? Give me that!" Jisung demanded as he attempted to snatch the phone away.

"Minho?" The person questioned, pointing to the picture on the screen.

"Y-yeah. That's you. Uh, my friend sent that. Sorry, I know it's creepy." Jisung looked away shamefully and then snapped back into anger. "Wait, is that why you're here? I'm so confused."

"You could say that, in a way," the person shrugged, finally handing Jisung the phone.

"Look, I don't know how you found out about that, but it wasn't my fault, okay? And besides that, it doesn't give you the right to come into my house like you own the place."

"I do, if you want to be technical." The strange person sauntered back over to the bed and sat down again, swinging one leg over the other.

"That doesn't make any sense. I'm calling the police." Jisung pulled up the dial pad and started entering the number. "You can explain everything to—"

He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he looked up to see that Minho had vanished.

"W-where did you go?" He peeked out the bedroom door, thinking he'd catch the person running down the stairs, but there was nothing. And more importantly, there was no sound of anyone in the house or leaving.

"This can't be happening," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as if trying to wake up from a nightmare.

When he cleared his vision, he dropped his phone at the sight of Minho on his bed again. This time laying down on his stomach grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Ow, shit!" He yelled as his phone landed on his foot. He immediately dropped down and started rubbing it.

Suddenly the figure was crouching by his side with a concerned look on his pale face.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he tried to peek at Jisung's foot.

"Go away, w-whatever you are," Jisung muttered as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

"What do you think I am?" The person asked curiously as he looked into Jisung's soft eyes.

"I don't know, but I know you aren't the real Minho," Jisung sniffled.

"You don't like my face?" The person pouted, seeming genuinely sad somehow.

"W-well, I mean, I like Minho's face. But you can't be him." Jisung looked away as the person stood up again.

"I'll keep it then. It's a nice face," he murmured as he went over to the window and gazed at his reflection.

Jisung watched the strange person staring at himself and admiring the chiseled lines of his jaw and sharp nose. The figure ran his hand through his hair and then adjusted it again. He still couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Jisung thought about the window and the basement door and the tv and how weird everything had been acting. A sinking feeling hit his stomach and he was afraid to ask what had just now crossed his mind.

"Min...whatever your name is...are you..." Jisung swallowed hard before continuing. "...a ghost?" He felt crazy for asking, but it was beginning to feel like it was the only explanation.

"Well, that's a rather crude term," the being said, crossing his arms. "But, I suppose you could say I'm a ghost. Apparition. Spirit," he shrugged.

"S-so...you're dead?" Jisung squeaked.

"Yes. I died. But that was a very long time ago. I try not to think about it."

"And you, uh, 'live' here?" Jisung rubbed his arm anxiously.