A strawberry blond female leans against the railing of her balcony with a toast in hand, munching the buttery goodness and revelling in the tartly taste of jam as she watches the new dawn light blending in the streets of Seoul. Brilliant orange and yellow light burns like fire as it melds with the dark blues, slowly unravelling new colours.

Her parents are away on a trip, enjoying their small given break and leaving their 19-years-old daughter on her own at their small but humble home. It is every teenager’s dream to be left alone without the supervision of a parent, and Im Cheol isn’t an exception to that, though she doesn’t have the time to enjoy it.

Brushing the crumbs off her hands, she gives a quick glance at her wristwatch before hurrying around to gather her necessities for school. Despite being a rather new high-school graduate herself, she responsibly makes sure that every appliance is switched off, every window is locked before exiting the apartment and locking the door.

Cheol heads out to school with head held high, beaming in giddiness as she bumps into her hot neighbour, who just happens to be a schoolmate. They chat normally along the way, basked in the warm sunlight and soft summer breeze. After bidding goodbye to the boy, Cheol steps into her first class. The sight of her best friend, Ami in all her curly redness and smiles, brightens Cheol’s day even more as the shorter girl approaches Cheol with a little too much spring in her step.

Seriously, everything is going unremarkable well so why…why…

Why can’t Cheol shake off the shivery feeling from the back of her mind?

It is expected for someone like her to think twice over such petty things. If a stranger on street would offer her a bar of gold, she would kick him where the sun doesn’t shine and lock the doors and windows of her house shut, huddling in the corner with a knife in hand. In other words: she tends to have a pessimistic outlook on life.

“Cheol-ah, do you have any plan after school?” inquires Ami, leaning closer to the strawberry blonde, who is a bit too occupied with her phone.

“Hmm…besides my part-time job, I have nothing else to do. Why?”

Ami let out a miserable groan. “Well, it’s been a while since we shop…”

Cheol sighs, nimble fingers typing away to answer the annoying texts, which are mostly from her lines of admirers. Before she can do anything to comfort the sulking redhead, a classmate barges into the classroom, breathing heavily after a long sprint from the secretary.

“Did you guys hear the news?” the blond-haired youth yells in a joyful manner, successfully grabbing everyone’s attention in the room. “There’s a new kid admitting, and they say it’s Kim Taehyung!”

A beep of silence falls upon the student body before an uproar of shrieks, both girlish and aggravating—from the male population—erupts, making Cheol cover her ears in attempt to protect her eardrums. It doesn’t help that Ami is squealing and shaking her arm in excitement.

Cheol isn’t exactly a fan but she has enough common sense to know that Kim Taehyung is by far the hottest teen idol of their generation. Not that Cheol has any interest but as her best friend is in fact one of his devoted fans, Cheol can’t help but be forced to know about these inconvenient matters.

“Chanyeol! You better not be joking about this!”

“Oh my gosh, this is our chance to talk to him!”

“Which department do you think he’ll be in?”

“Forget that, I have no regrets now! I can die in peace now”

Cheol is most likely the most level-headed of the female population as she now strains hard to get out of the stampede of excited females, knowing full-well Ami can fend for herself inside the sea of fans; Cheol has witnessed herself how unexpected violent the girl can be if it involves her beloved singer. It isn’t that Cheol isn’t like other girls, she is in fact, but she doesn’t see the point of fantasizing over a boy that wouldn’t even realize your existence.

A few minutes later, the instructor arrives to the scene involving a wild range of fans from other classes and scared, trembling bystanders that happen to get caught in the crazy frenzy.

“What in the world…” begins the aged man.

“Oh, this is nothing.” speaks Cheol from the side, still typing feverishly on the screen of her phone. “We should see how it goes when the new kid arrives.”

The teacher stares at her.

“Im Cheol-shi, meet me after class. I need to talk to you about the assignment you sent me.”

Cheol blinks. “…I knew this morning is too good to be true.”

“Seriously how am I supposed to know that we should hand the handouts today? If they are so bossy about it, then why don’t they do it themselves?”

Cheol hums distractedly, partially listening to Ryou’s rants, one ear occupied by a blaring earphone while the other is left alone in a faked manner of politely listening to the male.

Ryou is secretly an admirer of hers although he stubbornly denies it. Nice guy. Smart. Desirable by most girls in their department. He can be dreamy if he isn’t so possesive protective of her. They are friends but due to Cheol’s subtle popularity with boys, he won’t leave her alone, hence the walk to her workplace. Once upon a time she would date Ryou but after years of having him looming over her, snarling at any sign of attraction from other opposite gender, the mood kinda dies. Not to mention she is growing rather irritated of his presence.

Dunking away from the boy’s vain attempt to give her a so-called friendly hug, she crosses the road and hurries into a pristine restaurant across the street, effectively leaving Ryou in the lurch. In her rush, however, she accidently sprains her ankle. Pain shoots up her leg, causing her to almost crash into an exiting customer.

In contrast to her clean and confident appearance in the morning, Cheol arrives to the workplace with an injured ankle and a scowl etched on her fair features. Her co-workers inwardly cringe at her poor state. One of them, pretty brunette girl with a serious case of superiority is the only one dares to approach her, eyebrows knitting in interest as she places a palm on Cheol’s back. “I expect that Ryou-kun hasn’t got the message.”

“And he never will in a hundred years,” groans Cheol, rubbing and pressing her throbbing ankle to force the pain down. “Sorry, but I will pretty much be working in the kitchen today.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” says the girl dismissively. “We actually can have you do something else.”

“What do you mean by something else…” muses Cheol, feeling suspicious at the vagueness.

A few moments later, the 19-year-old finds herself being forced to deliver lunches to her boss.

Cheol feels much worse now that she stands in front of the reception desk at the general hospital, feeling quite out of place with the embarrassing limp in her steps as everyone bustles about around her. As she waits for the woman behind the desk to direct her to the room, her hands clench tightly around the cloth that holds the boxed lunch.

“It’s on the third floor, Room 104,” says the sweet-looking nurse, gesturing a hand at the elevators to their side. “You can use the elevator.”

Quietly thanking the woman, she heads inside the lift and waits for the inevitable meeting as the elevator moves up. Her eyes stay blank despite the growing anxiety in her chest.

“Excuse me,” Cheol calls, her fists knocking weakly against the door before turning the door knob, hoping with her luck that her manager isn’t there. No such luck on her side as she opens the door to see the aged woman in the bleach tinctured ward.

Mrs. Jeon is indeed a pretty woman. Despite the signs of age and weariness in her features, the warm light still shines in her dark eyes, emitting hope and pure kindness. Just a smile from the old woman causes Cheol’s stomach to twist into knots of guilt and sadness. Cheol gulps and limps hesitantly towards the woman, holding at arm’s length the lunch box, all the while murmuring sincere apologies for not visiting from the beginning, although her kind-hearted boss does assure her that nothing can be done since she is a recently graduate, so it’s only naturally that her schedule is packed.

Instead the middle-aged woman begins to fuss over Cheol when she realizes the slight limp in the girl’s pace. Cheol simply disregards her concern, patting her thigh in a nonchalant way to the worried woman. Mrs. Jeon heaves a sigh, features relaxing in a calm expression. “Well, all it matters is that you’re here, and Jungkook would be happy to know that.”

Cheol takes great care to not radiate pure depression in front of the matriarch of the Mori family. The woman has a lot in her plate—the last thing she needs is a sentimental teenager.

Cheol tilts her head slightly to get a look of the slumbering figure on the bed, which is partly concealed by the curtain that is hanging overhead. At Mrs. Jeon’s invitation, she plants herself on the chair besides the patient, posture tense now that the dying boy is beside her.

Jeon Jungkook is always too pale for her liking but at the moment he looks almost akin to a conserving corpse. Besides his black locks, his pallid complexion almost blends with the endless amount of bandages that covers his form.

Hey, Im Cheol-shi, right? I’m Jungkook.

Her eyes squeeze shut at the memory. Her hand slowly and reluctantly reaches for the boy’s hand. She is so immersed in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice Mrs. Jeon silent retreat from the room, rendering the room quiet save for the beeping noise of the monitor.

“Jungkook-shi, this is Im Cheol. Can you hear me?” she has no confidence that he can hear her. In spite of that she attempts an insincere laugh.

The sound of the monitor isn’t enough to distract her as she watches the boy, who no doubt would be in different shades of pain behind the calm, passionless face.

You look so focused on doing this, Cheol-shi.

In all her regret, Cheol extends another arm, while the other keeps hold to his cool palm, giving it a gentle squeeze in hope to transfer some of her body heat to the cold skin. She hesitates for a moment before raking her fingers through his hair, smoothing them a bit to the side like settling dust clouds.

Cheol-shi, instead of playing with your phone, you should talk more.

It’s weird, she realizes. She isn’t a close friend of his. In spite of his rather intimate relation with the owner, there isn’t the slightest intention from her side to acquaint herself with the boy. It’s amazing how one twist of fate can cause so much remorse for the 19-years-old, when it seems only yesterday that she neglects and takes everyone’s kindness for granted.

I wish…

I wish…

Her body moves on its own, rising from the seat, leaning down and lightly brushing her lips against his forehead. She stays still for a while, breathing in the boy’s scent; he smells of comfort and pine needles.

“I’m sorry for not being a better friend, Jungkook-ah.”

When she let him go, she wonders whether the slight squeeze she felt in Jungkook’s fingers is a figment of her imagination.

The sound of rusty hinges squeaking shatters the lonely atmosphere of the Im’s apartment as the door opens, letting a beam of fluorescent light enters the dark living room. Struggled a bit with the groceries, Cheol huffs exaggeratedly with relief as she unceremoniously dumps them on the couch. After making sure that the door is locked tight and nice, she proceeds to the bathroom, all too familiar with the coating of sweat and grime on her skin. A bubble bath is in order.

Cheol gingerly hops into the thick foam of powder and soap, sighing and relaxing her tired form. Now submerged to her neck, she leans back. Her eyes appear to be almost grey as she stares mutely at the ceiling. Despite being content with the absence of her parents, she feels rather lonely with only the dripping sounds of a loose pipe and the ticking of the clock as her company.

Does Jungkook feel this way as he waits for the rescue team?

Cheol lifts her right hand, turning and scrutinizing the fair skin as the scented foam clings to her skin. She still could feel the tingle from Jungkook’s hand. He is so cold. Is it from the effects of being buried in the snow avalanche?

Luckily he wasn’t exactly alone at that time, as his friend survived the accident and immediately notified for help. The fact Cheol had a transceiver with him really saved his life as they did find him after a while, though unconscious and very blue. He has since then lapsed into a coma. The doctors has claimed that his chance of survival is indeed slim, but everyone, including her could only do nothing but hope for the best as they wait for his awake.

Cheol won’t realize that she has fallen asleep in the bathtub if it isn’t for her ringing phone. She swears lightly for being so frivolous; it wouldn’t be so surprising if she drowns herself amidst the short nap. Rubbing her face, she raises out of the water and clumsily dons her robe. She finds her phone under the pile of laundry where she disposed her clothes and sees that there’s a call from Ami.

“Hey, Ami. Thanks for saving me from drowning.” she answers as nonchalant as one would comment about the weather. Judging by the wrinkles on her hand, she figures that she has bathed long enough.

“Cheol-ah, it’s dangerous to sleep during bath!” cries the girl on the other end of the phone that Cheol could almost imagine the girl sitting up abruptly from her laying position.

Cheol shakes her head in slight amusement, draining her tub and walking over to the vanity. “It’s not like I meant to do it. I just slept while thinking,” she contemplates on whether she should eat something before brushing her teeth. Feeling a bit hungry, she decides to brush later.

Puffs of steams halo her moving figure as she retreats to her bedroom, getting dress while talking to Ami at the same time. Seeing as she is too lazy, she simply resorts for a black tank top and slacks, not really caring whether she looks presentable enough or not. Who cares when one lives alone? She can sleep bare- for all she care.

“Ami, you can stop screaming now. I can hear you, you know…” Cheol maneuvers around the kitchen with the phone wedged between her ears and shoulder, listening to how Ami describes her bizarre encounter with strange classmates outside of school. By the time Ami has finished with her yak, Cheol is already done with her small supper.

“The girl is really nice but to be honest she’s kind of weird…And her boyfriend is so scary! He has the most sharpest eyes Cheol will see!”

“Wait, this girl and this guy…” muses Cheol to the phone which she has set on a speaker while her hands are busy with washing dirty plates. “You don’t mean Park Sun-young, right? The poor girl with brown hair?”

“Is that her name?” asks Ami in surprise; Kei could almost imagine the redhead scratching her head in puzzlement. “Well, next time I’ll be inviting her for our shopping spree! That is if her boyfriend stops hogging her all the time!”

Cheol chuckles in a barely contained amusement. Compared to her reserved yet stubborn nature, Ami is more gentle and friendly; she is the yin to Kei’s yang. At the beginning of their friendship, Cheol deemed this annoying but eventually grew fond of the vibrant girl.

“Oh, enough about me!” demands Ami in a lightly chiding tone. “Did anything interesting happen to you today?”

Cheol falters and thinks of the course of events that happened earlier today. Jungkook’s pasty face still etches deep within her conscious. For unknown reasons, she can’t find it in herself to confide her guilt to her best friend.

“Oh, nothing worth mentioning,” concludes Cheol.

After a little cleaning in the kitchen, Cheol sets off to bedroom, containing her unladylike yawns along the way. She climbs into bed eagerly but doesn’t forget to leave her nightlight on, more out of caution than being afraid of the dark. As her eyelids flutter close in mere surrender to exhaustion, she manages to express gratitude and prayers to the higher being. It isn’t like she is the religious kind who prays every hour of the day but it has been a small tradition of hers to do every night.

Not long after, she is snatched away by a dream.

In this dream Cheol awakes to the soft rustle of leaves whispering in her ears. She finds herself standing on an empty road; aside from the endless path of dirt, nothing but grass covers everywhere she turns. She starts walking forward, not wondering or hesitating for a second as she goes along the route.

Something suddenly pinches the skin of her arm, pulling her to an abrupt stop and causing her foot to slip off and tumble out of the dirt road. As she now accidently strays away from the route that is prepared for her, the scenery around her has altered, albeit slight. The sky is no longer calm blue; but instead intense red that one can mistake it for blood. The shadows appear more malicious as they shift to every movement.

Cheol automatically turns her head around to find a way back, her feet makes suspicious cracking noise that reminds Cheol too much of bones breaking under her weight. At first, there seems to be no one save for her growing anxious form. She is proved at that instant wrong by the sudden sigh, which resounds across the heavy silence.

The startled girl snaps her head back, fearful brown eyes squinting in the dark.

A ghostly, hunching form sits on a steeps hill that seems to materialize out of nowhere, almost blending well in the dark. Their broad shoulder and the way they slump with forearms propping on their knees has a masculine feeling to it, and she steps back warily. Despite how brave she makes herself to be, if anything is to happen, there’s still a limit to what a girl can do.

Cheol is about to move when suddenly, a pair of maroon, dead eyes shift from the mysterious figure and greet hers in a half-lidded stare. The murky air around them intensify, and the sound of draft has morphed to loud, incomprehensible whispers.

Her heart pounds against her chest as the ground melts beneath her, leading her to a dark abyss as she falls for her death. Her cries are ignored by the boy with red eyes.

Cheol snaps her eyes open. Tears unknowingly trickle down her cheeks; her body is bathed in cold sweat as she claps in a silent sob. The remnants of the dream are still vivid but she wills herself to get out of bed. In the blackness, the girl’s trembling frame struggles to pull on a robe before rushing out of the apartment.

She isn’t sure where she is going with this; all she knows is that she needs to make sure. She needs to see him now.

Strength returns to her leg as her pace quickens. Cheol follows her instinct and brings herself in front of the 24-7 busy street of Tokyo and almost throwing her life away. A taxi thankfully stops in front her and a bald head appears at the window to yell at her but halted midway by the horror-stricken look in the girl’s eyes.

“Please!”

Jeon Jungkook is dead.

The steady rhythm of the heart monitor falters the slightest bit before returning to its shadow of following the repetitive pumping of the vital organ. Each time it echoes across the room is a reassurance to the distressed parents, who haven’t given up hope for their only son. The previous slip is nothing more than a convenient lapse; a slip-up that people would thoughtlessly dismiss. For a moment, there’s no movement except for the slight rises and falls of the boy’s chest.

Slowly and reluctantly, the boy peels his eyelids open. Vacant brown eyes that is bordering between coffee and maroon, peek behind those dark lashes and lighten at the red-pink light of dawn trickling from the hospital curtains. He let out a sound that quickly alerts the occupants of the room of his consciousness, and in bliss, his parents engulf him while murmuring thank-yous to their choice of gods.

Lucifer, now Jeon Jungkook, in his daze, let the parents of the body he is now possessing embrace him as his arms stay limp by his sides. It is unlike him to welcome the warmth of others and bath himself in the smell of freshly washed clothes, but he does though reluctantly clutches the fabric of the woman’s dress.

Before he knows it, he delivers the promise that he never intended to keep as he apologizes to the woman, the woman who he’d be calling ‘mother’ from now on.

A sudden movement catches his eyes as he turns to glance at his left. A girl. More precisely, a girl with an unusual shade of hair, clad in clothing that can be labelled provocative back at his time, stands winded at the doorway. Her face is ashen with the very emotion he is most familiar with—fear.

A soft ‘red’ is what he heard from her.

I’m kinda in the mood for supernatural after reading theories for Blood, Sweat and Tears. =/

This story is actually written for an anime character that I fell in love with. If you guys guess him out, thumbs up for you! And since Kookie has this manly and youthful vibe that the character has, I think he suits this one-shot the most. This story is supposed to be chaptered so a lot is left ambiguous, but if there’s a huge demand on explanation, I’ll gladly add a new chapter for you guys. Just don’t be shy to tell me in the comment section down there; it'd be really cool if I receive 10 comments and 15 subs demanding for continuation...

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, and do comment a thing or two down there! Thx for dropping by! Adios!