I turned the corner, and the chainlink fence curved around me, locking me in like a cage. Light rain pattered on my head, and my hands started to shake. I could hear the footsteps behind me becoming louder, faster...

I darted forward in a split second decision. I jumped up the fence, pushing my fingers through the chains, but a pair of arms pulled me back, turning me around and shoving me against the fence. The force of it knocked the air out of my lungs, and the metal rattled sharply in my ears. A big hand pressed against my collar, kept me there. I opened my eyes to see a man with a red baseball cap obscuring his face.

Another two joined, holding my shoulder and wrists to the chains behind me. A fourth one came forward and started checking my coat pockets. He yanked out my book and prism and tossed them on the ground. I didn't realize I was mumbling "Please stop" again and again under my breath, until one of the men told me to shut up.

"Where's your wallet?" he shouted.

"M-my pocket — jacket pocket," I stuttered. My wrists and my collarbone hurt in a burning squeeze. It overwhelmed me that I couldn't make the pain stop.

The man rifled through my jacket — the hoodie jacket under my rain coat — and pulled out my wallet. He flipped it open, but stopped short when one of the others hit him on the shoulder, pointing up the alley.

A pair of bright white headlights were racing toward us.

"Go, go," the man to my side said. "Let's go."

The one in front of me pocketed the remaining sixty dollars, and threw my wallet on the ground. The four of them took off running, up the alley and around the corner.

All I heard was someone's harsh, deep breathing — and then I realized it was mine. I watched myself slowly lower to the ground, still staring at the headlights zooming in my direction. What terrifying thing could happen to me next? It felt like nothing was off the table.

The car stopped at the intersection, as if deciding whether to follow the men, or come to me. It was barely a second before the car shot forward, and then slowed, coming to a halt a few meters from me.

It was a silver Volvo.

Jisung rushed toward me, dropped onto his knees, hesitantly touching my arm. I just peered at him, all fear washing from my brain, leaving nothing but empty space. His face was anxious, frantic, and he breathed in short gasps as he gently pulled my hand up and examined my wrist. It felt bruised, though it wasn't showing yet. He wrapped his hand around it — the chill of his skin felt really good — and looked at my face.

"Minho," he said, eyebrows tipped down in worry, "are you... are you all right?"

I peeled his hand from my wrist, moving forward slowly and hugging him around his neck. I heard him stop breathing. I burrowed my face into his shoulder, starting to shake. His presence was a miracle — an astounding, disorienting miracle. Why here? Why now? How did he know where I was, what was happening?

I felt him hesitantly link his hands behind my back, a tender pat-pat, a soft rub up-and-down. He was just as good at hugs as I expected him to be. My heartbeat started to slow.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "What do you need?"

"I-I don't k-know." I cleared my throat. "I feel sc-scared."

He sighed like my words hurt. "They're gone. They will never" — he hissed the word — "touch you again, I swear."

I twitched, pulling him closer. "They took m-my goddamn money."

"That doesn't matter, Minho."

I breathed deeply, loosening my hold on him a bit — not too much. "I guess." 

I remembered my little book and prism, sitting on the pavement — probably ruined by the rain. I pulled away from Jisung and looked around, spotted them by the fence, as well as my empty wallet. I stowed all three away in my pockets, though my unicorn book was soggy and squishy.

Jisung supported me, holding my arm, as I got to my feet. It made me smile, despite everything. He walked me to the passenger side of his Volvo, and opened the door for me. I sank in, feeling grateful that I'd somehow ended up here again. He closed my door and appeared at the driver side instantly, sliding in and starting the engine. He sped up the alley, and we were on the open street in a minute.

"Sorry, my coat's all wet," I said quietly. My lips tasted like salt — I realized I'd been crying. I wiped my cheeks with the backs of my hands, blinking, and batted the hair out of my face.

"Don't worry about it," he said, eyes flitting to me. "Are you feeling okay?"

I felt okay when he spoke. His voice was dulcet and sweet — it reminded me of how I hadn't seen him in so long, how I'd missed him so goddamn much. I just wanted to hear him talk — to know he was there and alive and safe and real.

"I mean, not okay, really. But pretty okay."

I shivered, goosebumps prickling up my arms. The car was warm, but my body wasn't accepting it.

Jisung was giving me his coat in a millisecond, laying it over me like a blanket, and steering the car with his knee. I stared at him, feeling warmer already, and hugged my middle under the jacket.

"Thanks."

"It's okay. What else can I do?"

"Can you talk?" I said without thinking.

His head tilted. "What do you mean?"

"Your voice is relaxing." I was staring out the windshield, into the blackness. "It makes me feel better when you talk."

"Oh." He pulled over to the side of the road — his graceful hands guiding the steering wheel to the side, and then back. (It was both relaxing and strangely attractive to watch.) He turned the car off and angled himself toward me in his seat.

"What should I talk about?" he asked.

"Well, why are you here?"

He hesitated, eyes ticking around like he was searching for something metaphysical. "Umm."

"Like, why now?" I said. "When you didn't come back to school, I thought a bear had murdered you."

He smiled a little. "After Goat Rocks — which doesn't have as many bears as some think — my family and I went camping, since the weather has been so nice."

"Did you have fun?"

"Mmhmm." He nodded. "We fished a lot, hiked a lot. We saw an eagle. Some of the trees at the campsite were so tall I thought I couldn't see the top. My brother fell into a ditch and got a slug in his mouth... Is this helping?"

"Yup." I leaned my head back on the headrest, peering at his lovely face. "Did you have s'mores?"

"Mmm, yes," he said enthusiastically, his eyes rolling back in their sockets. "Our chocolate had caramel in the middle, so it was graham cracker, marshmallow, chocolate, caramel. My brothers and I were experimenting with cookie dough on top. It was delicious in theory."

"How was it in reality?"

"Gross. Overly sweet. Don't try it."

"I'll remember that." I let my eyes close for a moment. "Um, I just kind of wanna say thanks. For being there, before. You made it better."

He smiled perfectly, hands fidgeting on his lap. "You're welcome. I didn't know if I should have gone after those guys."

"You made the right choice," I said quickly. "Though, I'm sure you could have destroyed them. Since you're a superhero and all."

"I would have annihilated them." Voice grim, serious, he smiled into the distance like he was imagining it.

I glanced at the dashboard — the clock caught my eye. I gasped. It was the smallest sound, almost inaudible, but he heard. 

"Are you okay?!" he squeaked, panicking already.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I muttered, showing him my palms. "I just saw the time. I was supposed to have dinner with Jessica and Angela half an hour ago."

"Oh. Do you want to meet them?"

"Sure," I said. I would have liked to stay here, with him, but I didn't want them to worry about me.

He started the car and spun it around, speeding back toward Post Angeles.

The streetlights were above us again in no time. He cruised through traffic like magic — like insane, impossible magic — and I fought the urge to watch through my fingers. He parked effortlessly, in a spot I had thought too small, right in front of the restaurant. I could see Jessica and Angela walking away a dozen meters or so down the sidewalk.

Then I realized I hadn't told him where we were planning to have dinner. I shook my head and stored the thought away for later.

I looked at Jisung — and he wasn't there. I was completely paralyzed by the panic that consumed me in that split second, but then I heard my door open. I spun around and saw him holding it for me.

"Do you need help?" he asked, holding his hand out.

I didn't really. I felt fine in the physical sense.

I still took his hand as I climbed out of the car — and held it a little longer than I needed to. I gave him his coat back, and he shrugged into it.

I wondered what I looked like — apparently I'd been crying and too numb to notice. What was my hair doing? What was my face doing? I turned around, looking into the Volvo's window, but the glass wasn't reflective. Why wasn't the glass reflective? Why couldn't anything go right today...

I turned to Jisung. "Do I look — I don't know — disheveled?"

He gave me the once-over, and his eyes lingered at my mouth for just a little too long. I controlled my smile. It was weird and flattering and embarrassing. I fiddled sheepishly with my own fingers behind my back. Then he reached up and smoothed out my hair, brushed it down. His cold fingertips grazed my forehead — I couldn't stop my eyes from fluttering closed, a sound like a purr escaping my lips. (Just kill me now.)

My eyes opened. He was staring at me, frozen.

"Uh, shall we?" The tops of my ears were hot.

He was smiling in a small, jittery way, eyes too wide. He spun around, walking after Jessica and Angela, and I followed, falling into step with him.

They were about to cross the street, so I ran up ahead. I just wanted to get this over with. I had no idea what was going to happen next. I hoped I could let my friends know I was alive, and then go back to talking with Jisung in his warm, close, dimly lit car. I couldn't imagine a more perfect end to the day than that.

I tapped Jessica on the shoulder when I caught up.

They both turned around, and relief crossed their faces at once. Jessica seemed a little annoyed as well, and Angela looked puzzled.

"Where have you been?" Jessica asked.

"I, um, got lost," I said. Their faces went blank. I assumed Jisung must have caught up. "And then I ran into Jisung."

He smiled and nodded his head like a prince. Jessica blinked absently, and Angela's confused expression deepened.

Jessica turned back to me, and her eyes refocussed. "Um, we actually ate while we were waiting, Minho. They were going to kick us out."

"Sorry," Angela added.

"That's okay." But it was fishy. I could have been murdered in a ditch somewhere, and they were spearing ravioli instead of looking for my corpse. "I'm not hungry," I tacked on, which wasn't true either — I was starving — but Angela looked like a big guilty puppy, and I didn't want her to feel bad.

"Well, we parked right over there," Jessica said, pointing to the other side of the street. "Ready to go?"

Panic pinched at my insides, and my shoulders twitched up, hugging my neck. I had to think of some excuse, something to say, anything, but I suddenly couldn't remember how to do words. I collected myself as fast as I could.

"I'm actually really hungry, all of the sudden," I said, and turned to Jisung. "Do you want to get something to eat, Jisung? With me?"

His eyes got wide and his mouth fell open, but he composed himself.

"Sure," he said coolly.

I looked back at Jessica and Angela. They were watching us like we were two confusing penguins speaking in a penguin language they didn't understand.

"I figure you guys don't wanna watch me eat, right?" I said, shrugging. "I had a great time. I'm glad you found dresses." Leave, leave, leave. "It's all good..."

Angela's wing woman intuition lit up, and she grabbed Jessica's arm.

"We get it, Minho," she said, winking not-so-discreetly. "We had fun, too. See you tomorrow... see you, Jisung."

"Wait, what's happening?" Jessica asked, glancing back and forth between Angela and me.

"I'll explain later," Angela snapped, towing Jessica across the street and to the car. She shoved Jessica into the front seat, and then hopped around the hood, to the passenger side. We kept waving until they were out of sight.

I rocked back on my heels awkwardly, looking anywhere but Jisung. What was I supposed to do now? I'd ditched my friends to hang out with someone else — someone who probably just wanted to get back to his vigilante antics anyway...

I should just backtrack, tell him I'll call a taxi. I could see the rest of my night revealing itself to me already: get home, hop into my pyjamas, lie face-down on the floor and cry.

"Do you really want to go to dinner," Jisung asked, "or was that an excuse to get out of the drive back?"

"Um, I'd like dinner — but it's okay if you don't. You can just drive me home. Or I'll call a cab, or hitchhike, whatever."

I thought I saw his lips pull up at my pathetic mumbling. "We can go. If that's okay?"

"Yes," I said, way too quickly — before he'd even finished his sentence. "Are you hungry?"

"No, not really. I ate earlier."

"We don't have to do this."

"No, no, it's okay." He shook his head cutely. His hair bounced out of place, but he fixed it.

I just smiled.

We inched toward the Volvo, and then started walking — both of us staring down. All things considered, that went pretty well. And now we were going to dinner. Together.

I felt strangely comfortable opening the passenger door and climbing in — like it was my own car. He was already behind the wheel, starting the engine, when I got settled. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously as I plugged in my seat belt. Goddamn superhero.

We were off, gliding through the streets like there were no other cars — though there were. They parted and sped up and slowed down at Jisung's leisure, as if they were hypnotized to do what would be best for us.

Was he a warlock, too...?

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"You decide."

He nodded, and his head floated to the side while he thought. I could see the exact second he decided where we were going; his eyes focussed straight forward, unmoving in an eerie way. Watching him was fascinating and entertaining — like a ride at an amusement park. I felt insufficiently buckled in.

I was staring at him, chewing my lower lip. I had a few million questions to ask, and didn't know which was most urgent. After a while, he met my eyes.

"Are you okay?"

I revised my face. "Um, yeah. I was just thinking about dinner."

"What about dinner?"

"I was wondering if it's a date."

His eyes ticked in my direction. "It's not a date."

"I'm pretty sure this is a date."

"It's not."

"When I asked you to dinner, that was me asking you out. And you said yes, so I'm pretty sure this is a date."

"I didn't realize that." But his voice was too innocent — a little too high as well.

"I could have sworn this was a date."

"You were wrong."

"See, I've never been wrong before."

"There's a first time for everything."

"Like first dates?"

"Again, this isn't a date."

I propped my head up on my fist, elbow on the window sill, pouting. 'This isn't a date.' I wanted to ask why not exactly — but didn't. It felt like tempting fate, questioning any of this. Why look a gift vampire in the mouth, right?

Speaking of which, I shuffled around to stare at him. He was so goddamn beautiful, his hands at a perfect nine and three on the steering wheel. His puffy coat made him look like a blueberry, and he was wearing one of those soft Henley shirts underneath it. His legs looked like chopsticks in comparison to his lumberjack boots — which were pressing the pedal literally to the metal. It didn't feel like it; the car was still as if we were parked. Maybe his stupid, fancy car was a superhero, too.

After a while, he looked at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, you can stop asking that. What were you doing in Port Angeles?"

It seemed like a straightforward enough question, but his face shifted from calm to uneasy.

"I... can't say," he murmured.

"You can't say, or you don't want to say?"

"No comment."

"Please tell me."

"I literally can't."

"Tell me."

"No."

I tried to look cute. "Please...?"

He winced, his mask crumbling. "Fine, but you have to promise not to ask any follow-up questions."

I bobbed my head up and down. "Promise."

"My brother... saw you get mugged. He knew it was going to happen, so I came to make sure you were all right."

I blinked, opening my mouth to ask a question — but grit my teeth together when I remembered my promise.

"Damnit," I said quietly.

Then I realized we were parked, and he was reaching for the door handle.

"Wait," I half-shouted — he froze. I got out, ran around the car, and opened his door for him.

He sighed and got to his feet. "Not a date," he reminded me.

"I freaking know." I slammed the door with unnecessary force.

It turned out that Jisung had taken us to a parking lot. In the middle of the concrete, there was a food truck. It had a big umbrella shielding a few picnic benches from the rain, and dozens of pretty lights strung up. They gave the place a magical feel, like a wonderland...

Sort of romantic, too. I smiled wickedly.

We walked until we were under the shelter. I shook the rain drops off my coat and studied the menu. They had burgers made entirely out of vegetables, and salads made entirely out of meats, but neither of those sounded date-appropriate — or Whatever This Was-appropriate. I decided on a cheese sandwich, keeping it simple.

A guy in a stained apron leaned out the rectangular window in the side of the truck.

"How can I help you tonight?" he asked.

"Hi. A cheese sandwich, please." I felt like a child among grown-ups for my order, but I was willing to stick out the embarrassment if it meant I'd get my goddamn cheese sandwich.

And then I realized I didn't have any money.

"Wait, sorry, never mind," I babbled, confusing the food truck guy. "Forget it, I don't have money."

"I'll pay for it," Jisung chimed in, his wallet already in hand.

"No, it's fine — I'll eat at home."

"I'm getting something, too. Don't tell me you're one of those people who don't let anyone pay for anything."

I narrowed my eyes. "Okay."

He smiled, turned to the food truck guy and slid the money over the counter.

"And a soda," he said. "Keep the change."

The food truck guy nodded at Jisung, and smiled at me. "I'll get that started for you." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Jisung turned back to me.

"So it's not a date, but you pay for everything," I said.

"You don't have money, Minho. It's still not a date."

"I still disagree. But thank you. I'm kind of starving."

"You could have gotten more." He had his wallet out again, but I (gently) shoved his hands away.

"Stop being so chivalrous, you're giving me the wrong idea."

He smiled at his shoes.

Then he looked up toward the truck. A second later, the guy appeared at the window with a soda and a sandwich. My eyebrows lowered; how did Jisung do that? And how did he know where the Italian restaurant was earlier? How did he know we were going to Port Angeles in the first place? It didn't seem so crazy when I thought about it — that he was a mindreader as well as a hypnotist and an incredibly strong, fast, gorgeous superhero-vampire-god. And his brother was a fortune teller.

Jisung took the sandwich, handed it to me, and grabbed the soda. We walked to a picnic bench, shielded from the rain by a large umbrella. We sat down on either side of the table, and I eyed him, suspicious.

"Sometimes it feels like you can read minds, you know," I said.

He froze, mid-sip.

"For example, you knew where we were gonna have dinner without me telling you. And just now, it looked like you knew the guy was coming back before you should have."

He kept his eyes trained on mine. His lip twitched, but that was his only movement.

"I can't say, you know that," he mumbled cautiously.

"Say it hypothetically. Then I'll know you mean it" — I winked — "hypothetically."

He relaxed a little — finally. "All right. Hypothetically." He paused, then winked, but his other eye closed, too. He just sighed like he was disappointed with himself.

I took a moment to unwrap my sandwich. I expected him to start explaining, but I found myself on my third bite, and he was still silent.

"So," I said. "Get to it."

He rolled his eyes. "We're in public, Minho."

"Fine, if not that, then tell me about you. What are your hobbies?"

The normal question seemed to surprise him. "Um... I guess I make robots sometimes. Like, plastic models." He looked like he didn't know where to start.

"Tell me more," I pressed.

"They come in these boxes, with instructions and stuff." He held his hands out as if he were carrying an invisible cube. "My brother Jeongin and I put them together. We have a whole room of them, all set up, like a little society... sorry, it's boring."

It was not boring — I was sort of riveted. I forgot I should be eating. "I want to know. Do you name them?"

"Um, no, I don't."

"I think you do."

"Yeah, I do."

"Are you gonna tell me?"

"No, I'm not."

I sighed. "Do you ever mix and match the parts of the robots? Like, this head with a different body?"

"I make robots, I don't play god."

"Are they colourful?"

"Some."

"You could make a rainbow-robot."

His head drifted to the side. "Huh... interesting." He was staring past me like he was doing the logistics in his head. "Good idea."

"You're welcome."

He smiled, sipping his drink. "What are your hobbies?"

I chewed while I thought. I had quite a few hobbies back in Phoenix. I liked to dance and read and eat at interesting restaurants. Go to movies with my mom. Babysit my kid neighbours. Nap. I hadn't had the time to take any of them up again since Forks. Thinking about Jisung could have been my hobby, but it was more like a full-time job at this point.

"I cook a lot," I said finally. "My dad is a Manbaby."

He tilted his head at the expression, but moved on. "What do you like to cook?"

"I made a pizza the other day. That was okay."

"Okay to make or okay to eat?"

"Okay to make. It was incredible to eat because I'm an incredible cook."

"What's your favourite food?"

"I'm not picky. You?"

"Desserts — chocolate cake, cheesecake, etcetera." His head swayed to either side with each item he listed.

"So you have a sweet tooth?"

"You could say that."

"Do you like ice-cream?"

"If it's on cake."

"You really like cake."

He shrugged, nodding.

A harsh wind blew past. I shivered, pulling my coat closed.

"You're cold, do you wanna leave?" he said immediately, already standing.

"Uh, sure." I crumpled up the sandwich's wrapping paper and stuffed it into my pocket. He grabbed his soda and shuffled toward his car — practically running. I caught up.

This time he held my door for me, and I nearly fainted. I sank into the seat, and he was slamming my door and opening the driver side within a second. Was he even trying to hide his superpowers?

He pressed a bunch of buttons on the dashboard, turned the heat on. He gave me his coat again. I realized that, no matter what happened, I would probably cry tonight. He was too sweet, too kind. He made me feel too happy.

"Thanks." I tugged his coat up over my nose.

"No problem," he said, smiling.

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I changed a lot of stuff from Twilight here because Idk I wanted to. I hope you liked it :3 

tune in next week!

bye <3