And another short one shot! This is just a little spooky idea I came up with after I watched the behind content of the episodes with Kim Jongkook where Eden spooked Ateez. Warnings for slight horror, dubious consent, and some mild smut. I linked some spooky music to listen to.

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Hongjoong was in the middle of marking the lines he still wanted to revise when a gentle knock on the door pulled him from his concentration.

"I'll move you to a different studio for the time being."

Hongjoong let his pen sink to look up at Eden. The man leaned in the door with one shoulder. He had crossed his arms, but the smile on his face was as brotherly as Hongjoong was used to. When he picked up on Hongjoong's bewilderment about the sudden decision, he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

"They do construction work outside for a few weeks now, and I don't want it to mess with your performance. I already carried some equipment up on the third floor."

"The third floor?" Nervously, Hongjoong clenched his hands into the paws of his white sweater. The soft texture stuck to his clammy palms.

Everybody in their entertainment company knew that the third floor was an eerie place. It was used rarely and the staff members normally treated it like an attic to store clothes and devices in. Nobody liked to linger there for longer than necessary. The heaters had been broken for years, so the consistent chilliness up there had trainees and idols alike mumble rumours about the area being haunted.

In the years he had spent at the company, Hongjoong had been up there only a handful of times. He had never seen anything peculiar, but he agreed that the chilliness up there seemed to reach for his neck with icy fingertips.

His displeasure must have shown on his face. Eden grimaced at him apologetically.

"It's only for a few weeks. We will put you right back into your cosy studio with fabulous new walls as soon as possible."

With a nod, Hongjoong collected his papers and pushed them back into their folder haphazardly. He had no stance to discuss this matter. As long as he could still work, he would take the cold studio any day. His brain would appreciate the change of scenery either way.

"I will check it out. Thank you for telling me."

With a grin, Eden stepped back to return to work. After he had collected his things, Hongjoong followed him. The building was brightly lit and bustled with people as he left the second floor to scale the stairs to the third one. As he shouldered the door open with his arm that didn't carry his heavy bag, the merry voices of the people downstairs lost themselves in a distance.

A shudder crept down Hongjoong's spine as soon as the heavy fire door slammed shut behind him. The lights were on already up here, but the heater still didn't work. Even in his cosy sweater, Hongjoong shivered as he looked around.

Most rooms were cluttered with utensils needed for broadcasting and the maintenance of the idols. Hongjoong cruised to the end of the corridor until he found the door he was looking for. Contrary to downstairs, no colourful posters and imaginative quotes decorated the walls. Bleak white, they stood on the grey floor and created the illusion of an endless hallway.

As Hongjoong peeked his head into the only empty studio on the third floor, he huddled into himself to preserve as much body heat as possible. The walls didn't have the same soothing ochre colour as downstairs and were just more white. As Hongjoong set his bag down on the chair next to the recording console, he spotted the boxes with stuff Eden had already carried up.

To shoo away the eerie atmosphere in the cold air, Hongjoong put on some music and sung along while he sorted the cables. He set up the microphone in the recording booth and scurried back and forth for a while to make sure the technologies worked. While he recorded a few sample lines to test their quality, Eden dropped in once more with yet another box. He set it down next to the one Hongjoong already cleared out and looked around the dreary room while Hongjoong finished and came back out.

"It's not so bad, isn't it?" Eden had brought drinks for them and Hongjoong sipped on his apple juice while they took a brief break together. It was about time to go home, and downstairs, they could hear the chattering voices of their coworkers and the sound of footsteps filtering out of the building. Gradually, it became quiet as all doors banged shut.

"It's fine. I just listened to one too many horror stories about this floor during lunch is all." Hongjoong glanced around. His flickering eyes betrayed his anxiety behind his nonchalant words. Eden hummed and leaned back in his chair.

"About Park Seonghwa? Was it this room? A tragic accident." Eden shook his head to himself. A frown had settled on his brows and his eyes had become glassy as he looked into a far distance beyond the walls of the studio. Lost in his memories, he merely hummed when Hongjoong shifted to face him.

"What happened? I heard so many stories that the truth got distorted. Do people still talk about it?"

Eden nodded and took another sip of his juice before he spoke.

"It was what, five years ago? Maybe six now. Seonghwa was as old as you and such a well-rounded and handsome young man. We put high stakes on him as an idol; that was before I became a producer here. I came in and out for work depending on the job, so I met Seonghwa only a couple of times, but he was always sympathetic and modest. A lot of staff loved him for it."

Hongjoong listened along. He had pulled his feet up on his chair and aligned his soles so he could sway back and forth to keep his cooling body busy. The memory of Seonghwa hung in the air in melancholy, as if the very room wept for him.

"One day I came in to everyone mourning. His manager told me later that Seonghwa had died of suffocation because the air conditioner had a filtering failure and exuded toxins. The poor guy didn't even notice until he was dead. We try not to use this room too much since it feels like a desecration of his memory, but I imagine without the heater, it makes for a ghostly setting." Eden nodded to himself sadly and took another sip of his bottle. Dull, Hongjoong perched next to him. He was sad for the young man who had died here so unexpectedly. His name passed many mouths in the building still, but not all of them cared to convey the actual story.

"Maybe you can clear up those rumours after we worked here for a while. It's rude to talk about the deceased like that." Eden patted Hongjoong's shoulder before he slid from his place. On his way out, he took the box Hongjoong had emptied with him.

"I'll go home. Don't overdo it and see you tomorrow." The mood lifted its glum dullness when Eden waved at Hongjoong cheerfully. With a smile, Hongjoong told him to have a safe trip home. After the fire door had fallen shut behind Eden down the corridor, the ultimate feeling of loneliness enveloped Hongjoong.

For a moment, he sat frozen in place, and listened to his own breathing. Paranoid, his ears picked up on any noise in the building and its surroundings.

When nothing but silence echoed back, he sighed. With a roll of his shoulders, he stood to record some lines. He might as well warm up to this place until Eden was back. His fear was just as disrespectful towards Park Seonghwa as spreading rumours about his death.

Hongjoong stepped into the recording booth to tug the big earphones over his head. They muffled even the last sound he could have heard in the silent studio. The upbeat music of his new song filled his ears and Hongjoong jumped a bit to get rid of the tension in his body. As he shook the tension off him and waited for his beat to come, he finally slipped back into a more light-hearted mood.

With his sweater paws flapping to the beat and his eyes directed at a more beautiful part of the wooden soundproofing inside the booth, he was ready to go.

But just as he opened his mouth to start the first verse, a whisper interrupted him.

"Kim Hongjoong."

Startled, Hongjoong flinched back. His beat passed, and the music continued with no break. What was that? A whisper of his name? From who?

He hadn't put that in the track, had he? Had Eden messed with it?

Paranoid, Hongjoong pulled his earphones off. He looked around the brightly lit recording booth and peeked his head outside into the studio, too. Nobody was around. Just the empty walls stared back at him. Even when he listened for a second longer if somebody called for him, nothing but his own foolish paranoia echoed back.

Disbelieving, he rubbed his eyes and shuffled back to work. He must have imagined it. When expecting something spooky to happen; of course, his mind would play tricks on him.

Once more, he started the track anew. The beginning beats thumped in his heart to make it dance. His fingers thrummed along with them on the music stand, but there were less enthusiastic than last time. Nervous, he waited for his moment.

This time, he was sure. He had misheard it. The first syllable just dropped from his lips when he got startled again.

"Kim Hongjoong."

It was a breathy murmur, coming from the headphones and not from them at the same time. Hongjoong jumped out of his skin and ripped them from his head to distance himself from the booth.

What the hell was going on?

With trembling fingers, Hongjoong peered around the corner to the booth once more. The room was yawningly empty.

Was he going mad? He had slept enough these past few days, hadn't he?

Warily, Hongjoong glanced around in the booth behind him. Nothing was out of order and the cord of the headphones still dangled where he had slammed them down on the chair in the corner.

At once, he felt stupid. He couldn't even be alone anymore? He wasn't here to play around, there was work to do.

With a huff, Hongjoong returned to his phone and played a different track. He knew this one was finished already, but he could perfect its rap as long as his shakiness wasn't apparent in his voice. Stubborn, he put on his headphones again and sunk into the vibe of the song. This time, no spooky whispers interrupted him. After he had finished one track without further incidents, Hongjoong shook his paranoia off once more. His little dance through the studio as he loosened up his limbs was one of a kangaroo in training, but nobody saw him, so it was fine.

With more confidence now that he had got into the flow, Hongjoong rapped along two other tracks. His lines were anything but perfect, but he got warmer with the studio and he could prove how he had worked on something to Eden.

Hongjoong fell into the next track with his entire heart. He loved its low and rhythmic beats. He listened to it a lot before he fell asleep and while the vocals mixing with his rap in the song were difficult to smoothen out; he liked the challenge it posed.

Halfway into the song and fully relaxed by his concentration, Hongjoong didn't mind the coldness clinging to the room. The icy fingertips that seemed to graze his neck were nothing more but the cold creeping around his bouncing and skipping body. He poured his heart and soul into every word he spat at the microphone and, for a moment, the studio on the far end of the third floor was the best match Eden could have ever given Hongjoong.

That was until Hongjoong's voice got stuck in his throat in the middle of a sentence. With big eyes, he looked down at himself.

The cold touch that had brushed his chest didn't feel like a mere gust of wind. It moved oddly, as if it centred around Hongjoong's body. For a moment, he was unsure whether someone had actually reached out for him.

Hongjoong let a few beats pass in which he just stared at his chest in confusion. Unsuspecting, it rose and fell with his quickened breathing. Before he could open his mouth and pick up his lines, it happened again. The ghost of a touch that touched right upon his nipples and nowhere near the rest. It lingered weirdly, as if the cold intensified just around the nubs that immediately hardened through his shirt.

He waited for it to subside, but it never happened. Weirdly, as if the cold had hands that cupped his chest over his shirt, it stayed right there.

Was he going mad? Maybe he had a fever.

Hongjoong rose his hand to his forehead to feel his temperature. Rather than too hot, he felt too cold.

Maybe he stood right in the line of a draught from outside. Hongjoong took a step back while he adjusted his headphone so he could sink back into his working headspace.

Before he got anywhere, however, he met resistance. Not a real resistance, like a solid wall or even just a coat hanging from the door that met his back. It was as if wading through water, as if the air was denser right behind him.

And frigid, too.

Shivering, Hongjoong wrapped his arms around his body and tried to rub some warmth back into himself. His sensitive chest sent a zap of unexpected pleasure through him when the cold didn't let up. It felt as if it was squeezing him gently, like thumbs made of ice playing with his nipples through his sweater.

When he looked around warily, nobody was there with him. Just a cold touch to his chest that his body countered with extra sensitivity.

Hongjoong pressed his hand over his mouth before a whimper could escape him. His heart beat at a hundred miles per hour and his whole body shook and trembled. He could pull away anytime, but fear rooted him on the spot. His mind reeled between telling him to distance himself and to play it off as a trick of his mind.

What was going on? Should he run? Did he mistake the temperatures for something they weren't?

His eyes must have pressed shut somewhen because when the next tweak of his nipples came, they flew open. With a gasp, he leaned against the icy wall behind him. It vaguely felt like a person, but that was impossible. Either he had gone insane or he was haunted.

Just as Hongjoong remembered these corridors might very well be haunted, and that wasn't just a joke thought, his train of thought got ripped away once more. Ongoing, his music penetrated his mushy brain as those ghostly hands squeezed and played with his chest. Hongjoong tried to hold himself upright since he couldn't lean against anything. The little sparks of pleasure that the frosty touch sent down between his legs had him pinching his thighs together and swaying in the spot.

Hongjoong gasped into the microphone at a playful pull. His chest pushed towards the icy contact while he stifled his moans with his hand. He believed to feel kisses as if from snowflakes tumbling on his skin, spreading all over his neck, but when he peered behind himself once more, there was nobody. Just him and the empty room.

He had definitely gone mad.

When Hongjoong refocused on the cold squeeze on his chest, he nearly toppled over the chair in front of him. He caught himself on it with his hands, but his legs remained shaky like those of a newborn.

Until his legs moved on their own accord.

As if led by invisible strings, he felt himself gently being nudged forward. Hongjoong stumbled along without asking questions until his body braced against the wall and his hips aligned with the glass of the window looking out into the studio. With the bright lights on inside the booth, Hongjoong looked back at himself with wide eyes and messy ginger hair. Nobody was behind him and yet he felt the press of a body aligning with his.

Hongjoong's breath hitched when the hands touching him dipped under his sweater. As they went, the fabric pushed up over invisible wrists until Hongjoong's tummy leaned against the cold glass in front. His breath fogged up a spot as he stemmed his hands against it weakly for balance. His chest was still concealed by his sweater, but he could see the outline of big hands with slender fingers moving under the fabric. They flicked at his nipples and squeezed the soft flesh of his chest until he gasped and dropped his forehead against the glass window. Soft whines filled the air and his being the only voice he heard was inherently weird, but he didn't care.

The press of his crotch against the wall wasn't enough. Every weak twitch of his hips had his arousal rubbing on the flat surface through his jeans. He wanted to grimace at the wet spot he leaked against his hip, but he was too busy pushing his chest into those icy hands. As if Hongjoong's chest was their favourite squishy toy, they fondled him to tickle the sweetest noises from his lips.

A male's hands, clearly. They had no texture since they were made of just chilly coldness, but he guessed by their size. The delicate fingers squeezing and pulling at the delicate swollen nubs taunted him. He had nothing physical to hold on to, no partner to find pleasure with. When they tugged at his nipples simultaneously as if they wanted to milk him, Hongjoong lurched forward against the glass with a thinly veiled moan.

"Please-" Hongjoong choked out. He didn't know what he was asking for. His head lolled, unable to hold itself up. It was all too much. Shivers of pleasure wracked his heated body until he feared he would melt the cold sensation away. He was hazy and sensitive, every buck of his hips into the wall helpless. Shuddering knees tried to draw together at his knees.

When his skull connected with something solid to come to lie there, he rested on it in bliss. His eyes had clenched shut, so he didn't look around to see if he just imagined it or if he had found purchase on the weird consistency of the ghost person. His sleeves clasped over his mouth to stifle his noises. It was embarrassing to unravel like this just for having his chest played with, but his brain was too hazy to dispute it.

As he arched into the man's touch and pushed his body back into the hips pressed against his, a name came back to Hongjoong's senses. Through the lazily rolling music, it dropped from his lips in a sigh of yearning.

"Seonghwa."

The shift in demeanour was so smooth Hongjoong nearly missed it. But suddenly, the coldness wrapped tighter around him, engulfed him like a lover. The hands cupping his chest never stopped their fondling and groping and soon; it became too much.

Every squeeze and drag of his fingers over Hongjoong's skin seemed to leave a burning trail. His nipples ached and yearned for every faint touch they got. His arousal throbbed from the lack of attention, and yet Hongjoong fell apart in ways he had never thought possible.

A cold touch to his sensitive neck had Hongjoong's eyes fly open. He stared into the window and for a split second; he believed to see two men standing there. Wrapped around his trembling, tiny form, stood a taller man with dark hair that fell into his eyes. His hands were buried under Hongjoong's sweater to play him like a musical instrument. Dark eyes in a beautiful face met Hongjoong's.

Hongjoong's head dropped back onto his shoulder when he came with a breathless moan. His hips bucked into the wall to seek touch as he shivered and shuddered around the fingers that pinched his nipples in a cold grip. His hands were back on the glass, curling and digging over it with nothing to grasp.

His high tingled in his ears until he got aware of his hammering heart again. Weak knees buckled finally.

Hongjoong fell against the wall to catch his breath. His sweater had sunken back onto his hips and his pants were dark in the spot where his come had wet them.

All frigid touches had disappeared, and suddenly, the prior chilly room seemed much too hot for Hongjoong. Panting, he leaned against the window while sweat stuck to his forehead and nape.

He had no idea what the hell just happened. When he tugged the headphones from his hair gingerly, the silence of an empty room greeted him.

Alone and shaky, Hongjoong stood leaned against the wall. His hands trembled with either fear or post-orgasm shudders; he couldn't tell.

Quietly, Hongjoong put his headphones back on their hanger and left the booth. He didn't dare raise his eyes or look around as he fled the recording area and shut the music off. Then, he grabbed his bag and escaped the room hastily. Outside in the corridor, he believed to feel the ghostly presence again. It lingered as if telling him goodbye. The icy touch trailing over the back of his hand came from the same fingers that had just made him come undone by playing with his chest.

Hongjoong ran from the third floor and outside of the building. All the way home, he was jittery and shy as he hid the spot on his pants with his jacket. When he got home to shower and go to sleep, he swore to himself he would tell no one about what took place in the studio. Nobody could know.

Contrary to what Eden had said, Hongjoong very much couldn't deny the rumours that the third floor was haunted.