Minho's X-ray was fine — I could see through Chan's thoughts. I hadn't hurt him too badly. I crouched down, burying my face in my arms. Overwhelmed and guilty and lonely, everything was crumbling around me.

Minho kept my secret. Tyler Crowley asked how he'd gotten out of the way so fast, and he said that I'd pulled him out of the way. Kind of the truth. I hadn't known Minho long — I didn't know him at all — and he continued to surprise me at every turn.

The best way I could have thanked him was by leaving. Then he would be safe — from me, anyway. I'd go back to Denali. Or maybe farther. All the way to the Himalayas or the North Pole or the bottom of the ocean...

But I had to see him one last time.

I found myself marching down the hallway, into the ER. I peeked around the pastel curtains. Tyler was still mumbling apologies, and Minho was pretending to sleep.

My throat seized up. Seeing him, knowing I wasn't going to see him again... What had I done to myself? I missed him already.

Tyler saw me. He was about to speak, but I spoke first.

"Is he sleeping?"

It was barely a second before Minho's eyes were open. He measured me, irritated. He hated me. Of course he did.

Tyler started talking, but I stuck out a hand to shut him up.

"No harm done," I said. "Stop talking."

Tyler's pulse spiked, and he clamped his teeth together.

I sat down on the edge of Minho's bed, as far from him as possible. He didn't seem angry anymore — curious, instead.

"How are you?" I figured that was where to start. It didn't feel like enough.

"I'm fine." His voice cracked softly. "But they're holding me hostage. What would happen if I just walked out of here?"

"I'm pretty sure they have security."

He shrugged. "I'm scrappy."

I laughed — didn't he know he was a little bit terrifying? "Sure."

I hadn't noticed Chan approaching until he was walking around the corner. Minho's eyes opened wide when he saw him — standard reaction, but he wasn't hiding it very well. I wondered if he ever knew what his face was doing.

"So, Mr. Lee," Chan said, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Minho mumbled.

Chan flicked the switch on the lightboard above Minho's head. "Your X-rays came out fine. Does your head hurt? Jisung said you bumped it pretty good."

"Um, it's fine." Minho glared at me. There was something exaggerated about it. I desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.

Chan lightly touched the back of Minho's head with his fingertips — Minho winced. I flinched. Calm down, calm down, calm, calm.

"Tender?" Chan asked.

"Not really."

Chan sighed in his head. Your boy is one of Those, isn't he?

He's not my boy, I wanted to say.

"All right," Chan said. "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?" Minho pointed at me with one finger. I had the strongest urge to slap it out of the air.

"Someone has to let the masses know we're not squished," I said.

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

"Crap," Minho squeaked.

"Do you want to stay?"

"Nope." He flung his legs over the edge of the bed, and immediately faltered like he was going to collapse. Both Chan and I caught his elbows.

Minho steeled his knees and stood up straight, brushing off his shirt. "I'm fine."

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," Chan said, signing his documents.

"It doesn't hurt."

"It sounds like you were really lucky."

"Lucky Jisung was right next to me the whole time." Minho turned and glared at me. God, his cheeks were so pretty and chubby.

"Uh, yeah," Chan murmured. Was that some kind of very subtle blackmail?

I wasn't sure myself. I shrugged at Chan and covered it up when Minho turned to me.

"Shall we have a chat?" he asked. It wasn't a question.

I stood up, stepped closer, and immediately stepped back. Too close, too close. I held my breath for dear life.

"I think your dad is waiting for you," I said.

"I wanna talk to you alone."

Be careful, Jisung, Chan thought, not looking up from Tyler's chart.

I turned and strode away — Minho caught up to me. I led him around a few corners and stopped in an empty hallway. When I spoke, my voice was short and angry. Maybe I felt a little bit more dead on the inside than usual. Bottom of the ocean, here I come.

"What do you want?"

His chin bounced a couple times. "You owe me an explanation."

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

"You said, 'not here.' We're not there anymore. Start talking... please."

"Minho, you hit your head. Just wait a while, and it'll all come back to you." I was lying through my teeth. I felt dirty all over.

"My head is fine."

"Then what's the matter?"

He stepped forward, and I backed up to make up for it.

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

I exhaled through my nose but didn't inhale. "No, sorry."

"Not acceptable. Tell me."

"What do you think happened?"

"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."

My face was a careful mask. "You think the van crashed into me?"

He nodded, steadfast. "Uh-huh."

I took a different route. "Nobody will believe that, you know."

He opened his mouth like he was going to tell me off. He stopped short.

"I won't tell anyone," he murmured.

That took me by surprise. I only let it show for a second. "Then why does it matter?"

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

I wish you could.

I couldn't think of anything more to say. I marched past him, down the hallway. He called me a jerk.

As soon as I was out of sight, I dropped to a crouch and whimpered into my sleeves. I picked myself up, headed to an exit, and burst into the forest — pointed west, not stopping for a second. I nearly launched myself into the ocean, but my toes caught on the cliff. My legs were suddenly made of stone, feet fused to the ground.

I couldn't make myself leave Forks. My life was here, my family and home...

He was here...

Stupid, stupid monster. Of all the mistakes in the world, you've made this one.

I walked home at a pathetic human pace, returning the way I'd come. The trees tsked down at me, the birds shunned me. I hung my head.

The house was empty when I walked in the door. The silence wasn't comforting now. It rang in my ears, tugged at my heart.

I sat down in front of the piano, fingers hovered over the keys — and dropped my face into my hands. All I could see was Minho. His precious face. His precious life. I couldn't believe I was going to ruin him.

Hours later, seven pairs of shoes trickled in the front door, dropped their coats and beekeeper costumes, and headed upstairs. One pair came up behind me — spry, sandalled even in the constant rain. Felix sat next to me.

Sad piano time, bro? he thought.

I sniffed.

No school?

"Couldn't do it today." I put my hands down and turned to him. "How badly have I screwed everything up?"

For us, or for him?

I squeezed my eyes shut. I was betraying them — my family of a century — for a guy I'd spoken to twice.

"I'm sorry. Him."

Felix sighed quietly. It gets clearer by the minute. There are two futures left.

"Which... which two?"

He didn't answer. His premonitions leaked into my mind. The first was Minho — eyes a vivid crimson, blood dripping down his chin. A vampire.

The second was Minho — white, cold, dead in my arms. And me, eyes red and watery as I dug my teeth deeper into his neck. I was in love with him. He had loved me, too, before I'd given in to the bloodlust. The vision faded out with my body burning in roaring flames.

"Oh, God," I whispered.

Felix just patted my head.

~ * ~

The weeks after the accident were the worst of my life. I deserved every second of it. The focus of my every waking moment sat within arm's-reach every day, but I never spoke to him. I kept my eyes trained forward, and I didn't breathe. I was always on the edge of a breakdown, because life was miserable and I didn't want to live it, but also because I knew I had to live it. That was my punishment. My punishment for being the heinous villain I knew I was.

The heinous things I had yet to do...

I promised myself I would fight it — Felix's two futures. I didn't want them for Minho, and he wouldn't want them, either. I ignored him, held my breath, and kept my heart in check as well as I could.

Minho. He made me happy. Every time I saw him, I just wanted him more. He reached out once, said hi. I smiled flatly and turned my attention back to my book. I heard him huff.

It was hard to keep my heart in check when he made those little noises.

He never spoke a word of my secret. He could have told just one person, Jessica the Gossiper or Idiot Mike, and the information would have spread like wildfire. I had briefly pleaded with him — "nobody can know" — and persistently pissed him off with my evasions, yet, he'd protected my secret.

He was too good to consume my every thought. He still did.

I dunno why you try, Felix thought at lunch.

"Try what?"

To change the future.

I clenched my teeth and looked down.

Look, I know you're still on some kind of mission, but the futures haven't changed. You're making this harder than it has to be.

"I'm not gonna kill him," I said, "and he won't turn, either."

Felix glared, poking at his tater tots. You like to torture yourself, but you're torturing me, too.

"What?"

We're gonna be friends, me and Minho. I've seen it. All of us — one big happy family, but you're being stubborn. The more stubborn you are the more likely the... other... future becomes. The worse future.

I couldn't come up with a valid reply, so I didn't reply at all. I would not stop fighting. I would protect Minho with my life if I had to.

~ * ~

Most days, Minho would zone out in Biology, doodling, eyes blank. I glanced at him sometimes, only when I was sure he wouldn't notice. He was tired today, eyes droopy, shoulders slumped, slowly falling toward the table.

I heard him gasp. He was staring at his notebook like it was frightening him. He hadn't realized class was over. His mouth fell open.

Don't do it. Don't talk to him. Don't ask him if he's okay. Don't fall back into him, his mystery, his lovely eyes. Don't do it.

"Minho?" I whispered.

He flinched violently and turned to me. His face was so much more striking than I remembered, lips fuller, skin warm and tempting. Even in a daze, his eyes were solid, serene, like home.

For a moment, we stared at each other. Then he pressed his hands together, held them to his perfect lips.

"Oh, my God, are you speaking to me again?" Good Lord, his voice was everything I'd been missing. "Really, are you talking to me again?"

I guarded myself. If I didn't, I would have started crying or bounded out of the room. Probably both.

"No, not really," I said.

His shoulders bounced — not quite a shrug. "Then what do you want?"

"You looked like you were having a crisis, so I was gonna ask if you were okay." I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, improvising. I wanted to keep talking to him. I needed to. "But I also wanted to apologize."

He propped his chin up on his hands. "Okay, get to it."

"I'm sorry, Minho. I know I'm being a jerk, but it's — it's better this way."

His eyebrows knitted together. "What kind of an apology was that?"

"We can't be friends. It's a weird thing to say, I know, but it's for the best."

I got to my feet and packed the last of my books into my bag.

He got up and collected his books as well. His notebook — the one he'd been scared of — slid down the pile and fell over the edge. I caught it without thinking and held it out to him.

He smiled for the shortest second and snatched his book. He crammed it into his backpack and strode away.

I was desperate and kept talking. "We're not friends." Stop talking!

He stopped in his tracks, turned and walked right up to me. His eyes locked on mine. It was an awkward few seconds before he grabbed my bag and set it on the floor.

He stormed away again, not looking back. I stared after him.

~ * ~

I walked to Spanish, dazed. Changbin was watching the door when I walked in.

You okay, slick? he thought.

I took my seat and dropped my backpack, staring ahead. "I'm gonna talk to him."

And you're guilty, confused and agonized because...?

"Because it's the wrong thing to do."

Then don't do it.

"But I need to."

He sighed. You gonna be able to hold yourself together?

"I dunno." I looked down and squeezed my eyes shut. "I... hate myself so much."

Changbin reached over and held my hand across the aisle.

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**the last scene is giving me first win flashbacks, soft binsung, oh god, someone hold me**

unfortunately no puns in this chapter, but not to fear, i'm working on adding as many stray kids references as possible in upcoming chapters

bye! <3