When I woke up, something was off.

I sat up in my bed and squinted out the window. I noticed there wasn't a foggy film obscuring my view. The grey-green light of living in a forest was still there, but so much brighter, glowing.

So I rushed to the window, and swore louder than I should have when I saw the blanket of snow on the lawn and road. There wasn't an inch of ground showing, save for a few Bird Footprints and the driveway under my truck.

Charlie had left for work before I got downstairs. It was like I had my own house sometimes. I didn't feel lonely; it gave me time to hum and putter and talk to myself.

I threw down a handful of cereal, and then chugged milk straight from the carton. I choked, but recovered quickly. I was excited to get to school. I could have said it was because of the educational opportunities it presented, or even that I was looking forward to seeing my new bevy of friends for their rich personalities — but that would be lying. I was going to see Jisung Han again, and the thought sent a shiver up my spine. Because he was a mystery wrapped in a charming enigma, but also because it was very, very, very, incredibly stupid of me.

I should be avoiding him, like the rest of my problems. He was hiding something — why lie about his eyes? Not to mention his reaction toward me that first day...

But there was something so magnetic about him. I'd said more consecutive words to him than I had to anyone else in Forks, probably anybody ever (except my mom).There was also something very confusing about him — an alienness I couldn't quite place. In one corner of my brain, I saw him cringing away from me like I terrified him. In the other, he was laughing with me the day earlier. The images didn't make sense together.

I almost died trying to get to my truck. I dropped my keys, and when I bent down to pick them up, I hit my head on the side mirror. I fell backward. I had to keep from swearing; Charlie's elderly neighbours and their grandchildren witnessed the whole production. Clearly, today was going to be something.

My truck seemed to have no problem on the icy roads, but I still drove carefully. Nothing more embarrassing than being the new kid in town and plowing right into Pop's barber shop and out the other side.

I pulled into the parking lot at school, and the first thing I saw was Jisung. He was leaning on the hood of his Volvo, and he hadn't seemed to notice me yet, so I let myself stare. He looked frustratingly perfect in an ashy button-up shirt, jeans, and a heavy royal-blue jacket. Pretty diamond earrings dangled almost to his shoulders, and his hair was parted to the side. His siblings milled about, too, but they didn't have the same draw that he did. I had to tear my eyes away from him to park.

I'd been driving too slowly. Everyone was already heading toward their classes, and the parking lot was nearly empty of people. Before I got out, I checked my hair in the rear view mirror. I stopped and growled. Why the hell did I care if my hair looked nice all of a sudden?

As I closed my door, something silver caught my eye. I walked around the side of my truck and crouched down by my back tires. There were little criss-crossed chains covering the rubber — snow chains. Charlie must have woken up early to put them on. The backs of my eyes prickled, but I shook my head and willed the tears away. 

I heard a deafening crunch from behind me. I automatically turned to the noise, and I saw a huge grey van — tires locked, skidding across the icy gravel toward me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself.

Something cold hit me, and not from the direction I was expecting. It shoved me around so my back was against my truck, and my skull clanked on the tailgate. 

I opened my eyes. Jisung Han was in front of me, his gorgeous face very close to mine. He was kneeling over my outstretched legs, his hands framing either side of my head, positioning himself protectively over me, like armour.

His body didn't give an inch when the van slammed into his back.

I heard the groan of metal from the massive vehicle, and my truck shudder behind me. The windows of the van shattered, and a brief shriek escaped my lips.

It was a dead silent second before the mayhem started. I heard several people scream Tyler Crowley's name, scream my name. One person yelled for someone else to call 911. The van's alarm started blaring.

All I could do was stare at him, eyes wide with shock. I exhaled sharply when I realized I'd been holding my breath.

Then he spoke in a warm, calming voice. "Are you all right?"

I was speechless, and the world spun and drooped around me. I thought I was falling over, and I instinctively reached out and held his arm to steady myself.

He was freezing — like his flesh was carved from ice. My eyebrows must have shot down.

He took his arm away immediately, lifting his leg over mine and backing up a few feet. I watched him, and then cringed when I felt a throbbing pain pound on the back of my skull.

"Be careful," he said in reaction to my grimace. His hands raised for a moment, as if to comfort me, but he pulled them away quickly. "I think your head bumped into the metal." He looked guilty, as if he was the cause of it.

"I... I what?" I mumbled. "You... how...? I don't... what?"

"Take it easy." Who the hell said 'take it easy' anymore? "You look dizzy."

"Yeah, I'm dizzy — I was almost crushed by a van." Shock made me short with people. "Are you gonna explain how you did that?"

"Did what?"

"Saved me."

He flinched a little, and his eyes narrowed. "I'm... not sure what you're talking about."

I opened my mouth, and all that came out was a wheeze. "What? What the hell — the van literally crashed into your back."

He shook his head. "That's impossible."

I gawked at him. The image of the metal curving around him, a perfect cutout of his shoulders, was fresh in my mind. But when I looked back to the van, the dent wasn't there. It was smooth again, like nothing had happened to it.

Then I realized where I was. I was sitting in the hollow between my truck and the car next to it, instead of crouching in front of the tailgate where I'd been looking at my tires.

"Why — why am I over here? I was at the back of my truck."

"You were between the cars."

"And you stopped the van."

"That's not possible."

"And how'd you get over here so fast?"

"I was right next to you."

"You liar—"

"Minho," he interrupted, but his voice was soft — pleading, almost. "Not here. Nobody can know."

All I could do was blink.

Then they found us. Coach Clapp and Ms. Cope knelt down and pawed at me wherever they thought I should be injured. They told me an ambulance was coming, asked if I was okay — but I just kept staring at Jisung. He had been on the other side of the parking lot, and then he was suddenly saving me from certain death like a goddamn vigilante superhero...

Except that was stupid. What the hell was I thinking?

The EMTs finally arrived, and they stretcher'd up Tyler Crowley first. Then they got to me, and tried to lift me onto the gurney. I told them I could get to my feet, but my knees wobbled, and they ended up helping me anyway. It was humiliating. Jisung watched the ordeal like a hawk, and any time the EMTs would jostle me at all, he would wince and flinch.

Charlie came dashing onto the scene and yelled my name when he saw me on the stretcher. I had to tell him I was fine so many times I lost count.

"Dad," I said, raising my hands like 'slow down.' "I'm fine. I just wanted to say, thanks. For the snow chains."

"Minho, that doesn't matter now. You were almost killed." He turned to an unsuspecting paramedic. "Is he okay? Will someone make sure he's not going to die!"

I rested my head against the gurney. If only that van was better at its job.

The rest of the students looked on soberly as I was loaded into the back of the ambulance like a potpie into a toaster oven. Of course, we got a police escort to the Forks hospital, which was the worst. Jisung smooth talked his way into the back of the ambulance with me, but I didn't interrogate him — since he had asked me not to. So that was the worst, too.

But the worst of the worst was when the EMT tried to talk me into a neck brace. I embellished my refusal with a colourful word, and Jisung blushed and laughed under his breath.

Jisung disappeared when we entered the hospital. I craned my head to see where he went, but a pushy nurse shoved my shoulder back to the bed. I wrinkled my nose and muttered to myself.

They rolled me into the emergency room and left me there. Pastel curtains with rubber duckies on them separated each bed. In spite of the anarchy in my brain, the extent to which I was done with today, and the ache on the back of my head — it still made me feel like a little kid. Maybe I'd get a sticker when it was time to go home.

A nurse came in and put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue, but left when there was a flurry of excitement around the corner. Hospital personnel brought Tyler Crowley in on a stretcher. He looked way worse off than me — bandages soaked with blood wrapped around his head. He was peering at me anxiously.

"Minho, I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine — are you okay?" As we spoke, a nurse started unwinding the cloth around his head, revealing a whole crowd of raw cuts on his forehead and cheek.

"I was sure I was going to kill you! My van wouldn't stop — I tried to stop it, I swear! The ice was too slippery and I-I hit it wrong— Arg!" He howled as the nurse dabbed at his face.

"Don't worry about it. I'm alive." I didn't sound as relieved as I should have.

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then, poof!"

"Um. Jisung pulled me out of the way, actually."

He looked confused. "Who?"

"Jisung Han — he was standing right next to me."

"Really? Wow, I didn't see him. Is he okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. They didn't make him use a stretcher." The jerk.

I must have been crazy. There was no logical — or physically possible — explanation for what I claimed to have seen. My brain must have broken at some point, and I didn't notice, and then a sudden life and death situation pulled my crazy to the forefront.

They wheeled me away, to X-ray my head. I said nothing was wrong, and I was goddamn right. Not a concussion, no bleeding — just a bruise under my hair. I asked if I could go home, but the nurse said that I had to wait for the doctor's permission. So I was trapped in the emergency room, trying my hardest to ignore Tyler's earnest yet prodding apologies. He kept talking even after I stopped responding. 

"Is he sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open.

Jisung stood at the end of my bed, looking very out of place in the hospital. Like an eagle in a canary's cage, or a beautiful flower in a McDonald's salad. I stared — trying to disguise it as an irritated glare — but really I just wanted to look at him.

"Jisung, I'm really sorry—," Tyler began.

Jisung held up one hand to silence him. I wasn't even talking, but I wanted to shut up, too. 

"No harm done. Stop talking."

Tyler closed his mouth.

Jisung took a seat at the end of my bed. He smiled, and my shoulders slumped. His face was inconceivable. That kind of beauty didn't exist in nature — only in fantasy or imagination or heaven. Maybe I was dead after all.

"How are you?" he asked.

I cleared my throat — if I didn't, I'm sure my voice would have cracked. "I'm fine, but they're holding me hostage. What would happen if I just walked out of here?"

"I'm pretty sure they have security."

I shrugged. "I'm scrappy."

He snorted at that. "Sure."

Just then, a doctor walked around the corner, and my eyes opened wide. He was gorgeous, with curly brown hair (mixed in with a lighter butterscotch colour) and a warm smile. He looked tired, and long-suffering, with purplish hollows carved out under his eyes. This must have been Jisung's father.

"So, Mr. Lee," Dr. Bang said in an instantly endearing voice, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I broken record-ed.

He walked to the lightboard above my head and turned it on.

"Your X-rays came out fine," he said. "Does your head hurt? Jisung said you bumped it pretty good."

"Um, it's fine." I glowered at Jisung. He mirrored my expression.

Dr. Bang touched the back of my head gently. I didn't think he would notice me wince, but he did.

"Tender?" he asked.

"Not really," I answered.

"All right. Your dad is in the waiting room — you can go home with him. Come back if you feel dizzy or have any trouble with your eyes, yeah?"

"Can I go back to school?"

"Maybe take a day off, Minho."

"Does he get to go back to school?" I pointed at Jisung like a five year old.

"Someone has to let the masses know we're not squished," he said, smiling. I was distracted again.

"Actually, most of the school seems to be in the waiting room," Dr. Bang said.

"Crap," I groaned, kneading the bridge of my nose.

Dr. Bang lowered his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?"

"Nope." I quickly threw my legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Too quickly — I wobbled, and both Dr. Bang and Jisung's hands shot out and caught me by my elbows. (They were freezing cold to the touch, and I locked the thought away for future obsession.) They looked concerned — Dr. Bang from a professional distance, but Jisung seemed more jittery.

I steadied myself, straightening out my shirt. I showed them my palms. "I'm fine."

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," Dr. Bang said, signing my documents with a fancy signature.

My mouth was a line. "It doesn't hurt."

"It sounds like you were really lucky," Dr. Bang said, smiling at me. It took a second to respond.

"Lucky Jisung was right next to me the whole time." I eyed Jisung. No reaction. Suspicious.

"Uh, yeah," Dr. Bang said, and quickly shifted his attention to Tyler. My remaining brain cells flickered with intuition: the doctor was in on it.

"You're going to have to stay with us a bit longer, bud," he said to Tyler, poking his cuts.

Once the doctor was occupied, I locked eyes with Jisung. 

"Shall we have a chat?" But it wasn't a question.

He stood up and stepped closer to me, and then back a little.

"I think your dad is waiting for you."

"I wanna talk to you alone."

He deliberated, and then turned on his heels and stalked away. I had to hop forward to catch up. We turned into a small, empty hallway, and he spun around.

"What do you want?" he asked. His intensity surprised me. I opened my mouth, closed it, and opened it again before deciding on what to say.

"You owe me an explanation," I said.

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."

I rolled my eyes. "You said, 'not here.' We're not there anymore. Start talking." Maybe I was being too firm. "Please."

"Minho, you hit your head. Just wait a while, and it'll all come back to you." I almost believed him.

"My head is fine." I glared pointedly.

"Then what's the matter?" He glared as well.

I stepped forward, and he backed up.

"I wanna know why I'm lying for you. I wanna know why you're lying."

He bit his lip, eyes becoming soft. "No. Sorry." His tone made me want to tell him it was okay, but I was stronger than that.

"Not acceptable," I huffed. "Tell me."

He groaned. "What do you think happened?"

If he was trying to distract me, I fell for it. "You were on the other side of the parking lot. Then you were there in front of me, and the van... crashed into you, but you stopped it somehow. It should have killed both of us. There were dents in the side of it, and then there weren't. I know what I saw."

He was staring at me disbelievingly, but there was something about his face. Too prepared for denial. And he was tense — shoulders hiked up, mouth twitching faintly.

"You think the van crashed into me?" he asked, looking right into my eyes.

I swallowed, but nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Nobody will believe that, you know."

I was about to fight more, but I stopped short. Was that an admission? I chose my next words carefully.

"I won't tell anyone."

Genuine surprise flashed across his face, but then the mask was up again. "Then why does it matter?"

I crossed my arms. "It matters because you're weird and confusing and I'm gonna figure you out."

We stared in silence for a minute. His eyes ticked back and forth between mine.

"See you." He marched past me. I spun around and watched him walk away.

"Jerk," I called just before he disappeared around the corner.

The rest of the day was a blur. I was passed around like a hot potato by the worried students in the waiting room, and only got to leave when Charlie flashed his badge. My mom had been briefed about the accident, so I called her and assured her I was fine repeatedly. By the time it was late enough to go to sleep, I was completely exhausted. I popped a few Tylenol and curled up under the covers.

That was the first night I dreamed of Jisung Han.