You look fine, Jisung.

I craned around to look at Changbin in the backseat. "What?"

You're feeling insecure about your small mouth and long neck, but I'm telling you, you have nothing to worry about.

"Thanks?"

"You're gonna do fine with Minho, too," Felix added. "Not saying it won't be bumpy, but you'll both come out in one piece. I won't spoil it any more for you."

"I don't care about that. I'm just nervous."

"Why are you nervous?" Seungmin asked. It was sarcastic, but I answered anyway.

"Because I haven't spoken to him in, like, a month, and now I'm flushing all that down the toilet, and I have no control over how badly I could screw it up." I shrugged. "I'm fine."

You don't look fine, Jeongin thought.

"Yeah, well, I am."

"Focus on breathing," Felix said. "Lateral breathing. Keep your tum engaged, bro."

"I don't know what that means."

"You should have joined us for pilates this morning," Hyunjin said. "It would have calmed... all this down."

"How could I be calm right now? I'm a cold-hearted soulless demon for talking to him when I should just keep minding my own goddamn business." I slumped in my seat, the very image of a sad sack. "But I... miss him. He's so cool and weird. I wanna know him."

"You can. You should." Felix clicked his tongue. "You can know him forever and ever and ever..."

"Felix, I'm not accepting your dumbass futures, this is me refusing them."

So you'll 'accept' that I saw you were gonna accompany him to Seattle, but you'll shrug off the Big Two? You're convincing yourself that this train ain't heading where it's goddamn full-speed chugging toward. Wrap your noggin around extrasensory perception, will ya? It's like talking to a potted plant, I swear to God.

"I can do it, I can—" I closed my mouth.

Were you about to say you can change the future?

"Maybe. You have to admit that I've stirred it up a bit."

Felix flicked a tuft of hair out of his face and put his hands back on the wheel. You've tied up some of my wires, I'll admit. Things are shifting, but that won't necessarily affect the long run. Do you understand me?

"Uh-huh."

You didn't get a word of that.

"Uh-huh."

He pulled into the school lot and parked near the sidewalk. My brothers got out of the car. I was still slouched in the passenger seat, tongue between my teeth.

Felix leaned down to my window and counted off his fingers. Bring Seungmin's umbrella for Minho — he'll like that. I put it under the seat. He's gonna drop his keys and you're gonna catch them, yeah? Seattle is a good excuse, but don't put too much mustard on it, it might get suspicious.

I crossed my arms. "Thanks."

He knocked on the window and gestured to smile. I showed him my teeth.

The five of them disappeared around the corner.

I waited, listening tentatively, fidgeting, until Minho pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. He climbed out, trembling and soaked already.

I ducked under the seat and grabbed Seungmin's umbrella. It was plasticky and purple, covered with stickers from our travels. I opened the door and got out.

At that moment, Minho's keys slipped out of his hand. I had to admit Felix was talented at telling the future — especially the unimportant parts. I raced up to snatch his keys out of the air. I was holding them out before he realized he'd dropped them.

His eyebrows plonked halfway down his face. "The hell?"

I pulled the trigger, and the umbrella whooshed out in all directions. I held it over him. I breathed cautiously, very aware of how amazing the rain made him smell.

"Good morning, Minho." It was incredible to face him again, the wet, grumpy centre of my universe.

I let go of his keys, and they fell into his palm.

"How did you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?"

He stared at me for a second. Then he stuck his hand out and dropped his keys. I caught them and held them out to him again.

He smiled. Jesus Christ. I almost collapsed.

He took his keys — one eyebrow popped — and chucked them. I closed the umbrella, ran, jumped to catch them, and came back, opening the umbrella again before the rain could drench him any further.

"Stop it," I said, jingling his keys in his face.

He pocketed them. "You're really bad at this."

"Bad at what?"

"Well, keeping your superhero alter ego a secret. And not being my friend. If you didn't want to be involved with me, why aren't you ignoring me right now?"

My stutter, thank God, was so fast that he probably didn't catch it. "D-d-do you want me to ignore you?"

He blinked. "So what's up?"

Not an answer. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

"I wanted to ask you something," I said, "if that's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine."

"A week from Saturday — the day of the spring dance — I wanted to know if you—"

He gasped audibly.

"What?"

"Sorry, I thought I saw a bug on you. Carry on."

Did he think I was going to ask him to the dance? Did he want me to? He still looked like he hated me a little bit. Maybe his feelings toward me were complicated. Good enough for me.

I carried on, happy and not hiding it well. "I heard you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride... Did you think I was asking you to the dance just now?"

He scoffed. "Un-goddamn-likely."

A sting in my chest. My words came out sharper than I meant them to.

"So do you want a ride or what?"

He went silent, staring at me. The moment stretched out. Maybe he was literally trying to figure me out, like he said he would at the hospital.

"Minho."

"Huh."

"Minho."

"What?"

I waved my hand in front of his face, and he snapped out of it, backing up.

"A ride with you?" he said.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I was planning to go to Seattle anyway," I lied. "Two birds with one stone and all that."

"What about birds?"

"It's an expression."

He scoffed again. "I know."

I laughed a bit. Was he messing with me? I couldn't tell.

"Seriously, though, I dunno what you're going for here. I thought you didn't wanna be my friend."

"It would be better if we were not friends." I thought quickly and spoke slowly. "But I don't... not... want to be your friend."

"Well put."

I tried to scowl — it was useless. I looked down, calming my flighty stomach.

"I was avoiding you. But I — I can't anymore."

His lids batted over his striking eyes.

"Do you want to go to Seattle together?"

He nodded.

I smiled coolly. There wasn't much else to say other than "See you later." Because I would. See him later. I wanted to scream.

I retreated, coolly again, and threw the umbrella into the car. I glanced back at Minho. He was still standing there, staring at me, like he was too shocked to move. I smiled. I think he saw it — he flinched.

As soon as I turned the corner, a swarm of hands pawed and poked at me from every direction. I stumbled back and swatted them away.

"Quit it, quit it, quit it!"

Felix thumped me in the stomach. "You smooth bastard!"

"You were watching the whole time, weren't you?"

"Of course we were," said Seungmin.

"It went surprisingly well," said Jeongin.

"You're such a wimp," Hyunjin said lovingly. "Minho obviously wanted you to ask him to the dance." He grabbed his heart. "My God, I imagined it — somebody hold me." He collapsed into Seungmin's arms.

"I didn't want to freak you out before," Felix said, "but there was a huge chance you were gonna screw that up. Glad you didn't. That would've been funny, too, though. But glad you didn't."

"You should ask him to sit with you at lunch!" Hyunjin exclaimed.

"What, no — he sits with us at lunch," Changbin said.

"He's finally outta the nest" — Hyunjin tried to hug me, but I ducked out of his arms — "flapping his little wings!"

"Took you long enough," said Felix.

"You gonna ask him to sit with you?" Changbin asked, arms crossed. "I need to know whether to mark you down as 'dead to me' or not."

"Jisungie, tell me you're not courting the human," Seungmin said, face in his hands.

"I'm not courting him! It's just lunch! Stop talking!"

"So you are gonna ask him." Felix clapped my shoulder. "Proud of ya. Will definitely be tuning in."

I was about to wring someone's neck, didn't care whose, but I heard footsteps approaching. We all scrambled into the bushes. Minho walked past us, muttering curse words and messing with his hair.

"That was a bit too close." Jeongin brushed mud off his hands.

Wow, he does smell good, Hyunjin thought. Blood smells so much better in the rain. Wait, wait, what is that? Brown sugar syrup? He sniffed aggressively. And — patchouli? Jisungie, you didn't tell me he was a flower child.

"No, he's — why would I — whatever. I'm going to class."

"We won't miss you," Changbin sniffed.

"You're such a drama queen, it's one lunch."

"Dead. To. Me."

Jisung, don't forget to ditch Biology, Felix thought. That rat bastard has his whole lesson planned out — a sterile micro-lancet and everything. It'll be a bloodbath, and not the good kind.

"I'll remember," I mumbled. Great day for Mr. Banner to do blood typing. The lighting in Bio made Minho look truly ethereal every time.

"We'll meet up at lunch, then," Felix said. "Except not Jisung, 'cause Jisung is gonna sit with Minho."

I stomped off.

"We're rooting for you!"

"Don't come home tonight, traitor!"

"You romance his socks off, bro!"

~ * ~

Minho and I were going to drive to Seattle together, which meant hours of uninterrupted time alone. I couldn't help being giddy and excited, though the thought of it made my throat ache. So worth it. I could ask him about his likes and dislikes... his hopes and dreams... his bleakest nightmares and deepest fears...

The moment Minho walked through the cafeteria doors, his eyes were on my brothers' table. He looked like he was having another crisis. He spun in a circle, distraught, eyes flitting over the crowd. Was he looking for me? Oh, my Lord.

Jessica saw me after Minho had stopped looking. Oh ho ho, someone's checking Minho out. Why doesn't he just square up already — I'm tired of whatever the hell this back and forth is.

She turned to him. "Jisung Han" — his head snapped up — "is looking at you again. I seriously think he wants to fight you."

Minho met my eyes. I waved him over.

"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked.

I pointed at him, and then myself, and then gestured frantically until it was clear.

Minho looked at Jessica. "We have Biology. Bye."

He strutted away, urgent, then stalled behind one of the chairs across from me, pressing his lips together.

"What's this now?"

"Wanna to sit together today?"

He pulled the chair out and took a seat. His cute, stubby fingernails tapped on the table.

"Hi again," he said.

"Yo," I replied.

We talked about limeade, what day it was, his dead cat. Honestly, I was in a bit of a daze for the whole thing. I couldn't believe he was here with me — talking, the corners of his mouth quirked up. Like nothing ever happened. I hadn't thought he would let me off that easy.

A nasal voice in my head brought me back to earth.

They're laughing. It was Jessica. They should be fighting.

What the hell is Jisung Han planning? Mike thought. I wouldn't be surprised if he lured Minho into his weird cult-family and skipped town. We'll all have to attend his fake funeral.

A few others at Minho's table were thinking about us as well. Their thoughts were weirdly in-sync with Changbin's.

I taught that kid everything he knows and this is the thanks I get? That little shit.

"Your friends look angry I stole you," I said.

"They'll live."

I smiled because I knew I shouldn't have. "But I might not give you back."

He rolled his eyes. Why did he roll his eyes? Why, why, why?

"Oh, c'mon," he scoffed.

"What?"

"You're trying to be cool. It's not working."

Game on.

I leaned forward, letting my lips curl up. "Minho." His face went blank. "You know that's not true."

He stared at me, bottle hovering at his mouth, for what must have been a full minute. He started coughing.

"Your eyes," he murmured. "I still haven't figured that one out."

They must have been a light gold colour — we had hunted last night. "Good."

"Stop acting smug just because you've successfully stumped me."

"So you admit you're stumped?"

"Just because I'm out of ideas doesn't mean I'm gonna stop obsess— er, thinking about it."

"You should stop."

He squinted at me. "You know that doesn't make sense, right?"

I nodded. It was better that he was out to lunch than informed. I didn't even know how informed he was. He knew too much, I was sure of that, but he could have come up with something on his own...

I brought it up casually. "Do you have any theories? About my eyes? About me in general?"

He blinked while he thought.

"The least crazy one... you're a body-builder who doesn't like his natural eye colour."

"The most crazy?"

"An alien? Fell into radioactive sludge? Were you dropped on your head as a baby? A science experiment gone wrong? A superhero?"

I had been brushing them off one by one, but I couldn't hide my reaction to his last theory. He noticed.

"You're a superhero?" he whispered, leaning forward.

"No." I glanced up hesitantly, and my words left me. "I... I don't want to say."

"Please say."

Everything in me screamed No! in unison. No information, no hints, no vague brooding. It was a danger to Minho, my family, our lives...

But I could only think of him — so close, staring into my eyes. What would his reaction be? Would he make a joke out of it? Hit me? Run away? My hands started to shake.

"Minho, what if" — my voice faltered — "I'm a supervillain?"

He didn't think for a second. "Jisung, that's stupid."

That's it? 'Jisung, that's stupid'? He really had no idea. I bit back a hiss, scoffing instead. I didn't inhale.

"Is it so hard to think that I'm not what I look like? Maybe I'm dangerous. Maybe I'm deadly."

He contemplated that without an ounce of fear on his face.

"Maybe," he said. "But a supervillain? No. Even if you think you're scary and dangerous, I don't believe that you're evil."

Though he was wrong — laughably wrong — somehow I heard it. My brothers had shouted that same sentiment at me for decades, comforted me as I cried, told me I was good. I could never accept it. I could never believe them.

But I heard him. I felt him in my heart.

I dropped my face into my hands. "God, this is wrong."

"Wrong? What is wrong?"

I recoiled as I realized he was reaching over the table. He took his arm back, too, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, Minho," I said. It was satisfying to get to tell him that. "Whether you believe it or not, I'm... not safe. For anyone — but especially not for you."

"I think you're just being dramatic."

"It's more complicated than that."

He almost touched me again — I flinched back. He had my attention.

"I think you're cute."

What?

"What?"

"You heard me. I think you're cute and kind and I feel comfortable around you."

"Stop it — I'm not kidding."

"Neither am I. I think your face and hair and clothes are cute. You're cute, Jisung, just accept—"

A growl tore up my throat before I could stop it.

Minho laughed. He clawed at me, teasing, with an exaggerated feline expression on his face.

I was frozen.

"Adorable," he said.

"No, not adorable," I snapped. "I'm breaking all the rules by being here and you're not taking it seriously."

"I didn't realize this was a serious event. Maybe if you explained any of this to me, I could understand the severity of the situation."

He had it on the nose. I stared at him, and he stared back like he wanted to punch me in the face.

"That's not safe, either," I said.

He shook his head. "I should just leave, then, right? If everything is so dangerous for me?"

I stuttered again. "Y-yes."

"Do you — want me to leave?"

No. Never. "Do you want to leave?"

"Do you want me to want to leave?"

"Yes, but you didn't answer my question."

"You want me to leave?"

"No, but I want you to want to leave. What do you want?"

"I don't want to leave. I'm also really confused."

Being the disgusting, selfish villain I was, I smiled and said, "Don't leave."

"I thought you wanted me to leave."

"You should."

"It's annoying when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Contradict yourself."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Minho noticed the cafeteria was empty. He jumped up, hissing a vulgar word under his breath, and yanked his backpack on.

I wanted to stomp my feet. Despite the emotional rollercoaster, this had been the best half-hour of my life. I got to be with him, listen to him — it was more than I deserved.

He squinted at me, unamused, when he saw I hadn't moved.

"Biology?"

"I'm skipping today."

"Have fun being a punk."

"Have fun being a square."

He wrinkled his nose at me.

"See you around," I said. "Maybe."

"Um, yeah, yeah — see you." He said it like he didn't care either way. He turned around.

I sprang up. "Minho." I didn't know what I was doing. Did I ever know what the hell I was doing?

He looked back at me.

"I think you're cute, too."

I disappeared into the rafters.

Yes, it was indulgent. I didn't want to see his reaction. He had power over me. What if he scoffed? Or laughed? Or gagged? It was better not-knowing than knowing and being crushed by it.

I sprinted across the campus, into my car, and curled up in the back seat. I breathed in the clean air, holding my face in my hands. His voice was an echo in my mind. My skin prickled, stung, where he had nearly touched me.

I hugged my knees and replayed the day in my head, over and over and over again.