Dongwoo gasped for air, realizing he was sitting in his own bed, safe and sound. The same nightmare again. It always left a glowing ball of panic in his gut. He had often had nightmares before, but as his powers developed, they were getting worse. Still, they had never been like this. Usually he could see what was happening, but this blurry mess of ominous terror was freaking him out. And the screaming. The screaming was getting to him, sometimes he thought he heard it even when he was awake. His hairs stood on end as a wave of goose bumps washed over him.

His teacher had warned him not to trust his powers too much, not every nightmare was necessarily a premonition. He was also learning in his therapy sessions that he wasn't responsible for everything that happened in the world. He couldn't save the world. Not all of it, at least. Besides, usually the blurrier the details, the further away the event was. Well up till now he had never seen anything that was further than a week away, but this time felt different. And the future wasn't written in stone, it could still change. He took a deep breath. He was going to shake this feeling, ransack his room to see if he couldn't find his smile again and take it with him to school.

With a lot of effort, Dongwoo stepped into the sunny morning with a shining smile, both on his lips and in his heart. He was determined to make today a good day. Only good things were going to happen today. Amazing things even. He was going to go to sleep tonight happy that he had gotten up this morning. Today was precious and he was going to treat it as such.

“Good morning!” he sang energetically as he entered the classroom. It was full of students, some who smiled back, others scowling at him begrudgingly. He didn't really know most of them even though he had been taking this class for over a month now. He wasn't used to taking classes with more than 2-3 people. He was probably described as a special needs student in his school file, unable to function in a large classroom due to problems regarding concentration, or the inability to concentrate more like it, as well as frequent interruptions on account of his premonitions, some being more vocal than others. When he had them he really had no control over his own body, so the school board decided it was more convenient for everyone involved that he take private lessons. They were probably also concerned about the safety of the people around him, as well as the fact that despite countless specialist consultations, nobody had been able to figure his power out and whether it was affected by the presence of people around him. And it just kept on getting stronger and stronger with every passing day.

He was told there were no examples of anyone like him in all of recorded history. The power of premonitions wasn't a new discovery, though, but most people who had this gift could barely predict the weather for the following hour, let alone specific events a whole week into the future. He could sometimes see the fear in people's faces, scared that he would suddenly tell them the story of their final moments on this Earth, for he usually only saw people in need of help. Even so, he was a social person and this new lifestyle made him extremely lonely. That was why, after months of lobbying, begging and groveling incessantly, he was allowed into this beginning class about the history of powered people. It was pretty boring, but he loved the feeling of being surrounded by other students, able to imagine for one tiny second that he was a normal kid, going to class like everyone else his age.

He opened the book to where they left off last time, when he felt it coming. “Ah, not now.” he mumbled, but it was already happening. He was no longer in the classroom, the chatter had died down, replaced by an excruciating quiet. He was in an office of some sorts. Wait, he had been here before. It was the headmaster's office. He could feel the tension in the air. The headmaster was looking sternly at a boy sitting across him. He could only see the back of his head but he could feel how nervous he was. 'Calm down' he thought. He had a bad feeling about this. Nerves and powers usually didn't mix very well.

A second later, the headmaster lay dead on his desk, killed by his own paperweight. It wasn't pretty. He had seen some gruesome stuff in his time, but this was by far the most horrible. Blood... everywhere. He looked around for any indication of what time of day it was, ignoring the shiver that was crawling down his spine, finding a clock moments before he returned to reality. He checked the time. Five minutes. He only had five minutes or the headmaster would need a new office, six feet under. Without a word to the teacher, he shot out of his seat and started running like he had never run before. His lungs felt like they were burning from the inside out. He could make it, he told himself. Only if he could go a little bit faster. He forced his body to the edge of its limit. When he burst through the door after ignoring the shouted warnings of the headmaster's secretary, he could see it was already in progress, it was happening exactly as he saw it. This was not the first time he had experienced this, but every time he was a little bit surprised to find himself in the deja vu of all deja vus. There was no time to think, the paperweight was already in the air, yet he knew nobody had thrown it, not physically at least.

“Headmaster, duck!” he yelled even though he knew there wasn't enough time. He threw himself on the table like some daredevil James Bond type character, feeling as if time was in slow motion. He wasn't usually this brave, he wasn't sure what had gotten into him. Well, he had to save the headmaster somehow, for he was the only one that could. If he died, his death would be on him, and this boy's ruined future. His therapist would scold him for such thoughts, but that was what it felt like.

“Aaaagh!” he exclaimed as he felt the heavy paperweight smash into his shoulder. He heard something breaking, praying it was the paperweight. A blinding pain clouded his senses, then everything went dark.

---

Dongwoo tried to swallow but his throat was completely dry.

“Water.” he whispered into the darkness as if it could hear him and answer his plea. And sure enough it did. He felt something wet touch his lips.

“Thanks.” he tried to open his eyes, his eyelids weighing at least a ton. And then he saw them. The most beautiful pair of worried eyes he had ever seen, staring straight into his.

“Are...are you okay?” the owner of the eyes stammered, his lips drawn into a sad pout while the rest of his face refused to react in any way. His breathtaking beauty rendered Dongwoo speechless. For a second he wondered if he had died and this was heaven. If it was, it wasn't half-bad, he thought.

“No eh..no problem.” he coughed, smiling sheepishly.

“It's...it's not broken, thankfully...but eh...you did dislocate your arm so it had to be reset, so uhm...it's probably going to hurt like hell for a while. I'm sorry. It's all my fault. Ah, why did you have to be so unlucky to come in just then.” he shook his head, frustrated. There was real regret disfiguring his otherwise flawless face. Dongwoo didn't have the heart to tell him what would have happened if he hadn't intervened. He didn't care about credit anyway. He was just glad that this handsome boy's bright future hadn't met its tragic demise today.

“I'll get you some ice.” the boy said, flying off before Dongwoo could even ask him his name. Determined to wait for him to get back so they could get better acquainted, he tried to glue his eyes open, but the eyelids that once weighed a ton had gained at least two elephant's worth in weight and refused to stay open a second longer. And with that he drifted off.