Jisung parked in front of my house, and the engine cut to silence. The absence of sound was total, save for the rain pattering on the metal roof. I didn't know what to do next; would he really leave as usual after everything that happened today? And yet, how could he stay?

"Are you thinking about what to do now?" I asked. I'd had my cheek resting on his shoulder, and now I pulled myself up and found his eyes.

"Um, yeah," he said.

"Do you want to come in? I'm hungry — you could awkwardly watch me eat."

He smiled as if that was exciting. "Sure."

We climbed out of the truck and met on the lawn. I held his hand, leading him to the porch.

I unlocked the door, flicked on the light, and we stepped over the threshold. I pushed the door closed with my foot — took his hand again — and showed him into the kitchen. He'd probably been here before, but he was still hesitant, looking around as if he was just a guest, with his free hand stowed away behind his back.

He leaned against the wall as I took cereal and a bowl out of the cabinet, and milk from the fridge. I was too impatient to heat up something solid; he was here with me, in my house, and I could think of a thousand things I wanted to do with him instead of this.

I shook Cheerios into the bowl and started on the milk. From the corner of my eye, I saw him take the cereal box and return it to cabinet for me. He examined the counter for a second, and then opened a drawer — and another, and another.

"Are you looking for spoons?" I asked.

He nodded grudgingly.

"This one — over here."

"You have too many drawers." He walked around me and rifled through the utensils. He found a spoon, held it up, and I plucked it from his hand.

I was about to sit down when the phone rang. I looked at Jisung; he smiled and said it was okay. I set the bowl on the table and ran to answer the call.

"Hello—?"

"MINHOOOO!"

It was Jessica, screaming over blaring music. I could practically smell the alcohol over the phone. She burst into a fit of giggles that seemed to harmonize with the bass in the background.

"Minho, we're at the dance!" she said. "I look like a fairy! Mike is doing the worm!"

"And I'm amazing at it!" I heard Mike yell.

"Jess, give me the phone," Angela's slightly more stable voice said.

"Minho, how the hell did it go with Jisung?" Jessica asked then. "I wish you gays — GUYS — were here right now!"

I laughed. Jisung dropped his face into his hands.

"It was great. Jess, are you drunk?"

"Tyler snuck beer in! I drank so much!"

"Is there anyone to drive you home?"

"Boo! Nobody cares! Mike, do you care?"

"Hells to the no."

"Is Jisung there with you, Minho?"

I waved Jisung over. He glared at me and reluctantly stepped up.

"Hi," he said into the receiver.

"JISUNGGGG!"

"Leave them alone, Jess," Angela said. There was a series of muffled thumps and a high-pitched scream, and then Angela said, "Everything's fine."

"Angela, please tell me someone is sober," I said.

"Eric is sober, don't worry about it. Jisung, are you there?"

Jisung leaned into the phone. "Hello, Angela."

"You break his heart and I will hunt you down to the ends of the—"

"Okay," I said quickly, "I'm hanging up."

"See you Monday," Angela sang.

"We love you, boys!" Jessica added, shrieking like someone was bodily holding her away from the phone.

"I love you, too," I said. Jisung joined in with a quiet, "Love you."

The line went dead. I hung up the phone.

"Thanks for putting me on the spot like that," Jisung huffed. "I was scrambling."

"You barely said five words."

"And I was completely discombobulated for all of them." He sucked in a calming breath. "Your friends are cute."

I smiled. "They are."

"Do you regret skipping the dance now?"

I considered it. I was happy my friends were happy. I would have liked to see Angela with the dizzy light of alcohol in her eyes, and Mike attempt to dance. Drunk Jessica seemed like even more of a handful, but still funny and lovey-dovey and infectiously peppy. It could have been fun.

I didn't regret it. I looked at Jisung, his gentle, clear eyes, and I couldn't possibly regret any time spent with him. Every second was precious.

"No." I kissed him on the cheek.

I spun around, took a seat and stared at my cereal. I didn't regret Jisung, but something better to eat would have been nice. I took a bite anyway.

He walked around the table and hovered over the other chair.

"May I?" he said politely.

"Oh, come on," I teased. "Stop acting like you don't hang out here all the time."

"Why would I hang out in the kitchen?" He scoffed and sat down.

"Where are you, then? Like, specifically?"

His eyes ticked to the side, hesitant. "I kneel by the foot of your bed. I pray."

Not what I was expecting. "Oh. Do you pray to God?"

"Not strictly any one god." He shrugged. "Whoever will listen."

"I've always pictured you in my desk chair."

"I thought that would be going too far. I didn't want to creep you out."

I shook my head. "I wanted to know you were there. I would search for clues in the morning."

His smile was small and indulgent. He was about to speak when his eyes snapped toward the front door. A second later, I heard the sound of wheels on the pavement outside.

He looked back at me, expectant. "Are you going to tell your dad about me?"

I made a face. "I'm sorry. I don't think I'm ready." It was one thing to Come Out to Charlie — to explain Jisung, my boyfriend, my something, to him was something else entirely.

"It's all right," he said, seeming a little disappointed.

"Will you stay? Will you, um, spend the night?"

"If you want me to."

"Yes, please."

The playful, rash side of him curled his lips into a smile. "I'll be in your room."

And he was gone.

I froze, staring at the empty chair. What kind of a wizard was he? He ran around like the laws of physics were just a suggestion.

"Minho?" Charlie called from the living room.

"Hi," I rasped. "I'm in here."

He ambled into the kitchen, jumping out of his boots. He glanced at my cereal, and then changed course toward the fridge. While his back was turned, I shovelled mushy Cheerios into my mouth at a dangerous velocity.

He took a seat across from me, bowl in hand.

"How was your day?" he asked. "Buy anything in Seattle?"

I swallowed forcefully. "Um, great. I just walked around — didn't buy anything. How was yours?"

"Good. The fish were biting. Dunlevy brought Schnapps and cigars. Wilson fell through the dock, the dope."

I threw the rest of the milk down my throat while he was talking.

"Awesome, awesome, I'm going to bed." I got up and brought my dishes to the sink.

"You okay?" Charlie asked. "You seem kind of keyed up."

"Nope." I washed my bowl and spoon and set them upside-down on a towel.

"It's Saturday," he said casually.

"Yup."

"The dance is tonight."

"Yup."

"You're still not going?"

"Nope."

"Didn't someone ask you? What about your, um, 'something'? Did he?"

"Nope."

"Don't you have friends you could hang out with?"

"Yeah, but I'd rather stay in. No dress code, better snacks, better..." I didn't know what else to list. "Walls and floors and stuff, I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"Wait," he said just as I was about to make my escape, "is that a new shirt?"

I was still wearing Jisung's flannel. Goddamnit.

"Oh, right," I murmured. "I got it in Port Angeles."

"You said you didn't buy anything."

"Exactly. I stole it." I laughed awkwardly.

He didn't.

"I'm kidding. I forgot I bought it. Anyway, goodnight."

He nodded, his milky moustache flexing suspiciously.

I shuffled out of the room, turned the corner, and stomped up the stairs. I made it to my room, and slammed the door loud enough that Charlie would hear. I turned the light on and waited for a few seconds before whispering, "Jisung?" into the seemingly empty room.

A pair of arms wound around my middle from behind.

"Goddamn hell!" I squawked in a whisper, whirling around and smacking him on the arm. "What the hell, you jerk!"

"Sorry," he laughed, not sorry at all.

I tugged off his flannel and threw it at him. Once he pulled it off his head, I already had my arms resting on his shoulders, a lock of his night-black hair coiled around my finger. I met his eyes, frowning ruefully.

"I need a minute," I said. "Will you be here when I get back?"

He nodded, ducking out of my arms, and sat on the edge of my bed — suddenly motionless. I narrowed my eyes at him, pretending I wasn't impressed. I grabbed my pyjamas off the floor and left the room.

I rushed to the bathroom, slammed the door and turned the shower on. I was desperate to get back to him; I held my head under the stream of water and ran my hands through my hair a few times. I towelled it dryish, changed into my pyjamas, and brushed my teeth thoroughly. I zipped out the door.

I ran downstairs to show Charlie my wet hair. It was written all over his face; he thought I was going to sneak out — as if that was something I would do unless I was literally being kidnapped.

"G'night, Dad," I said to him.

His eyebrows flicked up, surprised, and then floated down, still suspicious.

"'Night," he said briefly.

I trudged up the stairs for the thousandth time that evening.

I closed my bedroom door extra hard, and let myself momentarily enjoy the absence of slams. I wished I had a lock on my door. I could have wedged a chair under the knob, but that seemed like overkill.

I looked at my bed, and Jisung was exactly where I left him. He unfroze and regarded my pyjamas. He snorted.

"Don't say it." I sat next to him and threw my clothes wherever.

"No, it's cute." He touched a square of butter melting over my shoulder.

I stretched my shirt out and pointed to one of the strips of bacon. "Is this how you see me?"

He laughed — and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle it.

"More like a pork chop," he told me. "A delicious, irreverent pork chop."

"If I were you, I would have eaten me already," I said. "There are no good barbecue places in Forks."

"You're weird, you know that?" He pecked me on the cheek.

I was about to respond, but he was suddenly frozen again, expression blank, until he whispered, "Charlie's coming."

He disappeared into thin air the same way he had earlier. I hopped up, turned the lights out, hurled myself under my blanket, rolled onto my side, and pretended to sleep.

I heard the door slowly creak open. I breathed in and out through my nose, emphasizing the movement. The latch clicked closed.

I felt the blanket pull up. I opened my eyes to see Jisung under the covers, facing me, cataclysmically close to me. I smiled so big I thought I felt something crack in my jaw.

"Hi," I said, at a loss.

"Hi. Is this okay? I can give you some space—"

"Please, please don't give me space. I have too much space already."

He kissed me quickly.

"Is that what you meant?"

"Sure."

He shuffled closer and kissed me, curling his arm around my back. My eyes fluttered shut and my thoughts turned to static.

I let my lips fall open, reckless and desperate for something closer. He broke away immediately.

"Minho," he breathed.

I flinched back, laying as far from him as my bed would allow. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Sorry." It was a minute of controlled silence before he said, "We've been together for a day and that's already happened twice."

"I'll try to keep it to myself next time."

"No, it's my fault. I'll try to be stronger. It's good, um, practice, for future."

"Will it get easier for you?"

"I think so. This is all new to me."

"It's new to me, too."

"You're good at it."

"I know." I smiled. "So. You're in my bed."

I could visualize his bashful expression, the way his shoulders pinched up. "Uh-huh. It's comfortable."

"I'm pretty sure Charlie bought the mattress, like, millions of years ago."

"An approximate number."

I laughed. "You know, I just assumed vampires can't tell when something is comfortable or not."

"We can, actually — though both sitting and lying down are unnecessary. I guess it's just a little gift of luxury."

"Do you have a bed at your house?"

"Not now, but I have before. It's a good place to get thinking done."

A click in my stupid brain.

"Vampires..." I grimaced. "Do they do some of the same... stuff, other people do in beds?"

Quiet, until — "Is that what you're asking?"

"Maybe. Are you going to answer the question?"

"Your sex question?"

I hit him wherever available. He yelped and started laughing.

"Go to hell," I said. "Yes."

"Okay, okay. The answer is, yeah, vampires do that. We have the same... desires... as humans, though they're hidden under more demanding ones. But they're still there."

I bit my lip — and quickly let it go. He could probably hear.

"Are they there for you?" I asked. "Could they be there for, um, us?"

He was silent for a long moment. I wondered if it was too late to throw myself out the window.

"Minho, your happiness means a lot to me," he finally said. "I really, truly hope I can make you happy, as happy as you make me. In an emotional sense, you know? So, to that end, it would — of course — be my pleasure to make you happy in a... physical... sense as well."

"Oh."

"Sorry, was that Gibberish? I mean, I really, really, really want to — I just... I'm nervous."

"It's okay. I mean, I want it... you... too."

"Good to know," he said. I could hear a shaky smile in his voice. "But I need to tell you, it's... not how it could be. Not what you're picturing, probably."

I clicked my fingernails together. I was trying very hard not to picture it. "What do you mean?"

"It would be too close, too... distracting. I can never lose control when I'm with you. But, like, I would... We can... Um, just you..."

I didn't know what to say other than, "All right then."

"Sorry."

"You're really apologizing?"

"Right. I'm not sorry."

"Good save," I laughed, feeling my nerves subside a little. "Hey... thanks for humouring me and my stupid question."

"It's not a stupid question. Kind of appropriate, actually. I'm in your bed."

"I guess so. I'm happy you're here."

He rolled over to face me, taking my hand and twining our fingers together.

"I am, too," he said.

I shuffled closer to him, lying on my side, and he tucked the blanket under me. I covered my mouth as I yawned, feeling my eyelids go heavy.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Yeah," I murmured. "I woke up early this morning."

"You can sleep."

"I'll miss your voice."

He kissed my cheek and laid his head on the pillow. He pulled the blanket off himself, folding it between us. (I would have protested, but I had to admit his temperature would have kept me up.) He brushed his hand up and down my back as he began humming a song I didn't recognize.

I drifted to sleep with his arms around me.