I hid a SKZ reference in this chapter... can you find it?

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I stared out the windshield of the Volvo. It was pitch black and pouring rain. I didn't know how Jisung could possibly see the road, but we hadn't crashed yet, so I didn't worry.

"We're not in public anymore," I said when the curiosity overpowered me. "You were going to explain some stuff to me — hypothetically."

He looked jittery. "Ah. Right. Hypothetically..." He bit his lip while he searched for words. "There's this person, and I admit that, yeah, they can read minds. But it's just hypothetical."

"Of course," I agreed. "So — I mean, not that you would know — but how did they get their powers?"

"It was a... phenomenon."

"Redacted?"

"Redacted."

"Okay. What does it sound like to the mindreader? Everybody's thoughts?"

"Imagine filling a room with a hundred radios — all on, all speaking at once. And then they tune into one, focus on it, and it's crystal clear."

"Can they hear everyone? Or are there any exceptions?"

He froze for a second, and then came back to life, moving his shoulders in a deliberate way. 

"One exception," he murmured.

"Oh. Hypothetically?"

"Yes."

"Like a busted radio among the working ones?"

He smiled slightly at my turn of phrase. "More like the mindreader isn't picking up their unique frequency."

"Does the mindreader know why the exception?"

"I have no idea... THEY have no idea. They are stumped — hypothetically."

I twiddled my thumbs, pretending not to be grateful for his obvious screw up.

"Interesting hypothesis," I said. "What about the mindreader's fortune teller brother?"

He sucked his lips into his mouth. "Their brother has premonitions — premonitions directly related to the choices people make, and the fallout of those decisions."

"Can the mindreader read their brother's mind?"

"Yes."

"So, technically, they can see the future, too?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. Trippy."

He laughed like that reminded him of something.

I chose my next words carefully, but I was sure he could see the fascination in my eyes.

"You're not human."

His smile faded a little, but he was calm. "No."

"You're more."

His eyes narrowed. "You don't know that... Maybe I'm less."

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I bit it back. "I think you're more and you just don't see it."

"You don't know me at all."

"Then let me get to know you, dummy."

He laughed, too raspy. "What do you want to know?"

"First, tell me how you're not human. Like, in what way."

"You want me to just tell you that?"

"I was hoping."

"Have you thought of any more theories, since the last time we spoke?" He looked over at me, and his eyes were attentive and inviting.

"Yes, actually," I said, and immediately regretted it. "But I don't want to say it."

"Honestly — and not hypothetically at all — it's really annoying when you don't finish your thoughts."

"Because you're the mindreader."

"Yes."

"And I'm the exception."

"Yes. Please, what's your theory?"

"It's stupid."

"I won't laugh."

"It might be offensive."

"I won't get mad."

"Yeah, yeah." I tried to hype myself up. I would understand if he hated me after I literally accused him of being a bloodsucking movie monster. I hoped he could forgive me. Messing up our relationship after tonight sounded like a fate worse than death.

"You're a vampire?"

His breath hitched. It was the only time the car swerved in the slightest. I just stared at him, slowly grasping what his reaction meant.

"Wait," I mumbled, "you're actually...?"

"How did y-you know that?" He wasn't kidding — his eyes were dead serious. Did he think I said something else? Empire? Campfire? Unpile old files, set fire?

"I... guessed...?"

"You guessed?"

"Yeah?"

"You can't know this," he whispered, distant, like he was talking to someone else. "You can't, you can't, you can't..."

"I can pretend I don't know," I offered.

"It's more complicated than that," he snapped.

"Oh, I'm goddamn sorry I don't know anything because you haven't told me anything."

"I haven't told you anything because you couldn't know about this."

"Well, now I know, might as well tell me everything."

"I will not say a word."

"That was six words."

He took a deep breath, and then let it out in a low growl.

"Try harder, Dracula, I'm not scared yet."

He closed his eyes for a moment, teeth grit together. He smiled like he didn't want to.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm being a jackass. It's dangerous that you know this about me."

"Why is it dangerous?"

"There are laws in place, to keep humans from knowing about us."

"Does that mean there are vampire police?"

"You could say that."

"Well, I won't tell anybody. If that's something you're worried about."

He shook his head a little.

"I'm not afraid of you, either," I added. "You should know that."

His mouth twitched.

I reached over and poked his nose. "I still think you're cute."

His eyes snapped to me. "You shouldn't think that. You should be very, very afraid."

"Can I hold your hand?"

He flinched. "What?"

"I wanna hold your hand."

He stared at me, eyes wide and vulnerable. I guessed that our conversation was more upsetting to him than I realized. I wished I could know why he felt this conflicted. I wished I could understand him better.

He carefully removed one hand from the steering wheel and set it down between us, palm up. I took my hand out from under his coat and placed it over his. His skin was freezing, but soft and skin-like — despite him being a demon, apparently. I twined our fingers together, gazing at our hands, completely lost in our touch. When I glanced up, he was still looking at me. I decided to change the subject to something more productive then silent stares and brooding.

"So you're a vampire," I said.

"Yes." His troubled eyes were on the road again.

"I want to say that's stupid and you're stupid, but... I guess I kind of believe you."

"Um, okay."

"I mean, it's cool."

"I don't know how to respond to that."

"You don't have to. So do you sleep in a coffin and wear a cape?"

He laughed. "Capes are awesome — but no. And I, um, don't sleep, actually."

My jaw dropped. Some of my best memories happened while I was asleep. I thought my desire to smother him in a hug had reached peak desperation, but it somehow kept getting stronger the more I knew about him. I gripped his hand tighter.

"Never?"

"Never."

"What do you do all night, then?"

He smiled a little, keeping his eyes focussed on something in the distance.

"I think about you."

Overwhelmed. Very overwhelmed. I checked my pulse with my free hand. I wondered what would happen if I told him that I'd been dreaming of him every single night for the last months, thinking only about him for the better part of each day. I didn't — I was sure any attempt would have come out in Gibberish.

"Um, d-does garlic freak you out?"

He laughed again, and it sounded more natural. "Garlic means nothing to me. I spit on garlic. Garlic is irrelevant."

"For someone who doesn't care about garlic, you sure have a lot of intense emotions about garlic."

"I hear it's good with parmesan and shrimp. I dunno how I know. I don't eat, either."

Maximum levels of overwhelm. Food and sleep were like my sun and moon. What if he was tired and hungry and just didn't know it? Without thinking, I brought our hands to my chest, held them over my heart.

He looked at me, seeming uneasy, but there was a spark of something else in his butterscotch eyes. Thrill, maybe.

"You've probably noticed how cold I am," he said.

"Yeah."

"You're warm to me. It feels really nice."

So I kept his hand held there, and let my head back on the seat.

"If you don't eat, what was all that about cake?" I asked. "And earlier, when you were talking about cookie dough s'mores?"

"It was all a ruse — and you believed every word."

"I knew something was up," I lied. My eyes shifted to his soda in the cupholder, and I reached down to weigh it. The cup was full to the brim.

"You pretended to drink this?"

"It would have been creepy — just sitting there, watching you eat."

I smiled, and continued asking whatever popped into my head.

"I hope this isn't a rude question in vampire culture or whatever — but how old are you?"

"I'm seventeen."

"How long have you been seventeen, genius?"

His lips teased at a smile. "A really, really long time."

"How come you don't talk like an old person, then?"

"The new way of speaking suits me better." He threw a peace sign. "Swag."

I rolled my eyes massively, trying not to laugh.

I saw him glance at me with a worried look on his face. "Aren't you curious about... what I do eat?"

"Or drink?"

He nodded.

"If you want to tell me."

"We are 'vegetarian vampires,'" he explained. "We only drink animal blood."

My eyes got wide. "Bears?"

He smacked his lips once.

I stared out the windshield, thinking about it. The mental image of Jisung fighting a grizzly would have been funny if it didn't scare me so much. Even now that I knew he was a vampire, his safety felt precarious. He was so small and gentle, so awkward and human.

"You okay?" he asked then.

"Do you eat other animals? Ones less large and dangerous?"

"We drink whatever we can get our hands on — discreetly."

Then I was anxious for a different reason. What were they eating exactly? I saw a poster for a missing parakeet on a hydro pole in Port Angeles... and Ms. Howard from down the street had been asking around, looking for her lost cat... Could I really be friends with someone who ate cats? I shuddered.

"What are you thinking?" He was looking at me like he suspected it all would be too much for me.

"I'm just wondering about the, um, diversity of your meals. You know, what's on the menu — not that I'm judging, I just—"

"We don't drink cats."

"Oh, thank god!" I squawked. A kink in the back of my brain unfurled.

"You were picturing us as literal cat burglars, weren't you?"

"I was trying not to."

"You don't have to worry." He brushed his thumb back and forth across my hand. "Cats are too boney."

I pried his fingers out of mine, slapped him away when he tried to take my hand again.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" he cackled.

"That's a dangerous thing to say in front of a person like me," I warned. I grudgingly accepted his hand again, holding it to my chest, since he liked that.

He smiled at the road ahead of him, unrepentant.

"Moving on," I said, "why are you vegetarian?"

"It's an ethical thing, an atonement. We don't want to be what we are. Might as well play righteous, make the best of it."

"Why just 'play' righteous?"

"Because living as a vampire is inherently immoral, therefore we cannot 'be' moral, we can only 'play' moral."

"Did you really just say 'therefore'?"

"The rest of my sentiment just, whoosh, out your other ear, huh?"

"Kind of. But seriously, that's really honourable, Jisung."

He made a scoffing sound — a quick exhale through his nose. "No way. It's the bare minimum."

"I thought the bare minimum would be eating people."

"That is the norm, but I don't believe we should settle for that. If 'bare minimum' is, let's say, five, then drinking humans is three."

"Oh. What's a 'zero'?"

"Slaughtering whole villages, torturing our victims, amassing an army." He shrugged.

"Cool," I squeaked. "What's a 'ten'?"

He looked thoughtful, regret pulling him into a more dismal mood. "Not... this," he whispered. "Not this."

I didn't know what he meant, but didn't question further. The more questions I asked, the farther we got into complicated, depressing territory, and I didn't want to be there with him. I had the feeling that he spent entirely too much time there already. 

"I didn't know there was a numbers scale to vampire morals," I said.

"There isn't. I'm making this up as I go along."

I smiled. "So you were eating bears at Goat Rocks. What were you eating when you were 'camping'?"

He looked sort of guilty. "I made that up, too. Sorry. We came back after Goat Rocks."

I stopped short. "Came back to Forks?"

"Yeah."

"When did you get back?"

"A few days ago."

"Why weren't you in school?"

"It was sunny — we can't go out in the sun."

I opened my mouth.

"No, we don't turn to dust," he interrupted.

"I was going to chew you out, actually."

"Why?"

"I was worried for days when you didn't come to school. I mean, you could have told me — called or, I don't know, sent a bird."

"You were worried about me?" he said quietly.

"Er, yeah." Was this what it felt like to blush? "I was a zombie for a day or two there."

A smile was growing on his face like the slow bloom of a flower.

"But I guess it's okay if it was because of vampire stuff," I added. "Never do it again, though. Ever. I will tackle you to the ground."

"Feel free." He realized what he'd said, and cleared his throat. "Um, how did you come up with the vampire theory?"

I smiled, loving his mistakes. "From a movie, actually."

He laughed. "That checks out."

"You check out," I said lamely.

"What movie was it?"

"It was called Maiden Stealer, I think."

"Maiden Stealer?" He was playing incredulous. "You watched Maiden Stealer and thought of me? That's so insulting. That may be the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Were you expecting Blade?" I scoffed.

"I was hoping. Or at least Underworld."

"When you watch a vampire movie, is it like a nature documentary to you?"

He snorted. "That's like asking a chicken if they can relate to Jurassic Park."

I noticed he wasn't holding the steering wheel anymore. I looked out the window to see the shape of Charlie's house. I still had his hand pinned to my chest. My own hand was starting to go numb, but his was warm where I was holding it. I let go reluctantly. I folded his coat up and gave it back to him. He took it, hugging it to his middle, not taking his eyes off me.

"Thanks for the date," I teased, despite the shaky feeling in my gut. I didn't want to leave him — more than that, when I thought about leaving him, remnants of panic from earlier in the night stirred up in my brain.

"It wasn't a date, but you're welcome," he said. "I was having fun, talking to you."

I smiled. "Me, too. Do you want to hang out again tomorrow?"

He blinked, freezing up.

"You could pick me up for school." I was obviously taken with this idea, a wee bit desperate. "Or I could pick you up — but I'm not too proud to admit that your car is better than mine. Or we could just meet there. I don't know."

His mouth opened soundlessly, and then he said, "Okay. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"Cool." I said it evenly, like my life wasn't being made worth living one million times over. "See you then."

I held the lever, about to get out of the car, but a shiver slithered up my spine and rattled my bones. I just breathed for a second, my heartbeat growing faster and stronger, before I turned back to him. His face, his eyes and nose and the dimples at the corners of his mouth, instantly calmed me. The shaking stopped.

I braced myself for what I was about to say next.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi." He looked concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"Can I ask another question?"

"Um, sure."

I sucked in a breath. "Can you be there tonight?"

His body went motionless. "What...?"

"It's just... what happened earlier — it freaked me out, I feel freaked out. Like I said earlier, you make me feel better. I kind of want you there."

He spoke slowly. "You want me where, exactly?"

"My room."

He winced. "Minho, it's weird."

"Maybe."

"You want me to just... watch you?"

"Keep me safe, yeah. I mean, you think about me all night anyway. And that's not a jab — just a fact."

"I... I shouldn't."

"Please" — my voice cracked — "be there."

He was fluttering his eyelashes. I knew it was because he was confused, but it made him look ethereal — like the physical manifestation of a ray of sunshine. I watched him, my frown deepening.

"I will be there if you want me to," he finally said.

I sighed, relieved. "Be there."

"All right. Anything you want."

Did I imagine the certainty in his voice, making it sound like a promise?

"Thanks. I mean, you don't have to if you have other stuff to do," I tacked on. As I thought of being alone, I started feeling cold again, and my voice trembled like a thin, flimsy blade of grass.

"Let me check my schedule." He held up his hands like he was holding an invisible book, licked his thumb and flipped through the pages. He snapped it closed. "Look at that, I'm free."

I smiled, adoring the playful light in his eyes.

"Just a suggestion," he said then, "but maybe you should tell Charlie about what happened. In the alley. It would feel good to talk about, right?"

"Charlie's not a big talker. I'm not, either, actually. It's okay, though — I'm okay."

"You shouldn't keep it bottled up."

"It's not — you know about it."

He looked like he wanted to argue further, but realized it wouldn't do any good.

"Sleep good," he said.

"Okay. Bye."

I swung the door open and got out. I made sure to keep my eyes on the car as I backed away. He pulled out of the driveway, disappearing around the corner. I watched the street for a few minutes — in the pouring rain, shaking like a chihuahua — just in case he came back for some reason. He didn't. I grudgingly hauled my drenched self into the house.

"Minho?" Charlie called from the living room.

"Yeah, Dad," I called back. I took my prism, wallet, and bundle of wet book-materiel out of my pocket, and hung my coat up on a hook. 

I walked into the living room to see Charlie on the couch, watching baseball.

"You're home early," he said. "How was the girls' night out, son?"

I would have scolded him for that, but I was suddenly exhausted, having trouble keeping my eyes open. 

"It was amazing."

"They find dresses?"

"Yup. What time is it?"

"It's quarter-to-nine... You okay?"

My face must have been up to something. "Um, yeah," I said nonchalantly. "I'm going to bed. I'm tired. Goodnight." I was feeling sick again. My heart was beating too fast, and my stomach was flighty and tense.

I trudged up the stairs, to my bedroom, dropped my stuff on the bedside, grabbed my pyjamas, and skittered to the bathroom in a slow-motion frenzy. I changed, raked at my teeth for a few seconds, and splashed warm water on my face. 

I dragged myself back to my room and considered the surroundings. The thought that he'd be here soon... it felt like a security blanket. I imagined him sitting at my desk, keeping me safe from riffraff and vans and whatever else.

I finally sank into my bed, pulling the blanket up until I was lost in darkness.

As I drifted toward sleep, a few facts became clear to me.

First, Jisung was a vampire. An actual, literal vampire, and however asinine that seemed, he'd admitted to it. Second, he was absolutely fascinating, with layers upon layers of kindness and beauty that I had yet to discover. And third, I was falling in love with him, falling deeper every moment, with no intention of coming back.