Is it too late to repent?

“Scared?” Haru asks.

Sungjin levels her with a look. “I’m not scared.”

Her eyes flit up to him then back around to scan her immediate environment. She reminds him of those animal documentaries Jae watches when he’s bored out of his mind. “Nervous? Anxious? Apprehensive? Uneasy? Anything?”

Sungjin shakes his head at every suggestion that he might be anything but confident. The audacity of this girl to challenge him. It wasn’t enough that she had dragged him across town to an after-dark theme park of all places. He wasn’t even aware of the event until he was crossing the threshold of rainbow streamers festooned overhead. The location wasn’t the issue. Being here, being with her, was becoming less of an issue. What it is is that it remains a wonder they even made it to the park when Haru was adamant at keeping their destination a secret and Sungjin was behind the wheel. It’s that he was forced to blindly trust her questionable navigation skills, and if that wasn’t an adventure in itself then who knew what constituted a legitimate thrill these days.

Later Haru will tell him she did a quick internet search for something to do, and there it was. A theme park open after dark. For one night only. At least she will admit to parroting the directions given to her by a map app. This information will soothe his rising blood pressure, but only just. Diving headfirst into the Great Unknown isn’t one of his hobbies. He’s not afraid, but would it be too much to ask to be prepared?

Uncharacteristically however, Sungjin will choose to view this night as a good thing instead of accepting his natural instinct to reject unplanned activities. Everything about this night—everything about Haru—is unplanned and unprecedented. Two words Sungjin has difficulty processing. It’s not that he’s uptight. It’s just that he prefers to have a plan, thank you very much.

Besides, scared isn’t really the word he’s looking for. Frustrated, perhaps. Annoyed, even. Irritated, sure. Vexed, yes. Definitely disoriented.

She does that to him. Throw him off center. It’s terrible.

“Of this?” He scoffs. “Are you?”

The buggy train starts on the tracks, rattling uphill and giving Sungjin a panoramic view of the amusement park. As far as crazy goes, a roller coaster ride isn’t nearly as bad as being pushed into a pool of giant foam blocks or pressured into winning a stuffed animal from a claw crane machine, or even being dared to enter a Trot singing competition all in the span of 90 minutes. All of which he did in sterling expertise, just by the way. Given that, the next 90 seconds just might be the reprieve he needs to recalibrate himself.

Next to him, Haru has become quiet. Too quiet. Her eyes are glazed over. Her knuckles are white from holding on too tightly on the handrail. It clicks and, just as the car pulls up to the peak of the first slope, Sungjin takes her hand, gives it a reassuring squeeze, and they’re off. Haru doesn’t scream. She doesn’t make a sound. He’s convinced she isn’t even breathing as they hurtle down the steep tracks, sharp turns and twists along the inclined loops.

Her eyes are open, he sees as much. He sees her so well, he misses out on the dizzying whoosh of nightlights and cityscapes because he’s become too fascinated by this girl and her cotton candy colored hair floating in the wind. But he does feel the smile on his face, the surge of adrenaline kicking in, and something he can’t quite put a finger to. It’s both a moment of discovery and mystery when what you’ve found only brings more questions than it does answers.

The ride is over too soon, and he’s checking on her before his heart could make it back into his chest. He takes in the neon flush on her face, her windswept hair, and the look of triumph in her eyes. Somehow he feels like the real ride is just about to begin.

They exit down the platform. Neither of them acknowledges that they are still holding hands. To anyone else, they are just another couple spending the night out, blending in perfectly with all the others. He notices it now. Everyone else is on a date, genuine ones, not like the poor excuse of a not-date as he currently is part of.

“So when does the crazy begin, because it’s been pretty benign all night?” he asks. That’s an understatement. Nothing about the night has been sane. Or normal.

She looks up at him. “Were you really not scared? Not even nervous?”

Maybe a little, but Sungjin shakes his head. No need to say it out loud. His reputation is that of a fulcrum. Or something like a pillar. He keeps the world around him steady. Carefully, though he already knows the answer, he asks, “Were you?”

Haru in a breath. Suddenly the girl who seemed larger than life is just a girl. And he’s just a boy. “It wasn’t so bad,” she admits. “The first drop was the worst but…it wasn’t as bad as I made it seem in my head.”

Her laugh—it’s the shared adrenaline rush is what making this moment seem like a moment—is contagious.

Then she’s serious. “If I tell you, promise you won’t laugh? Or tease…or anything?”

“I promise.”

He feels her fingers twitch, realizes how delicate her hand is engulfed in his. Yet he won’t dare mistake her for anything but strong. She is defiant. Her appearance suggests as much. Haru is more like him than he’s willing to admit. Such a dangerous thought, that. Sungjin knows better and lets it go before instinct consumes him.

“I’m scared of heights.” Her voice is steady. She isn’t the type to squeak out a confession, even one as revealing as this.

He moves to stand in front of her, caresses the edge of her hand with his thumb. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“You’re not laughing.”

“I just promised you I won’t. Besides, it’s not funny.”

She can’t meet his eyes any longer. “You promised, huh. You know, JB promised me, some time long ago, that he’d take me on a rollercoaster ride. To help me get over my fear. We never did get to go. But it’s not like that was his fault. Sometimes it was mine. Life happens all the time. The weird thing is every time I think about why we never did get to go on all the trips we planned in our heads, I can’t seem to think of a solid reason.”

“You don’t need him to do whatever you want.” That is, he isn’t saying he’s stepping up to the figurative plate. “You made it just fine without him.”

“I know that,” she answers, “But I wanted him to be part of that memory. You know that feeling, I’m sure.”

He does. “Look at it this way: now you get an upgrade. Aren’t you glad things happened the way they did?”

Not even the flickering lights and shadows can hide the smile on her face. Not when Sungjin is looking so closely for it. “I guess I was afraid of being alone,” she admits.

“Everyone is, I think.”

“But you know, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Kinda like my first plane ride. I was terrified, but…”

Whatever it was that happened between her and Jaebum, it must have hurt her so much she got on a plane despite her fear. Hurt does that to people. But as he’s learned, it’s also pain that breaks humans out of the walls that confine them. “I’m sorry, darling.”

In principle, he can still take it back. Make it a joke. Say something snarky to dampen the intent behind those words so carelessly voiced. But why again?

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” she says. Whatever the reason she’s willfully ignoring his little Freudian slip, whether it’s to save herself from embarrassment or to imply she’s not affected, Sungjin still finds it in himself to be offended. “It lead to one of the best experiences of my life.”

“Did it help?”

“Huh?”

“The distance. Did it help?’

“I thought it did. But as you witnessed tonight…” she shook the memory away. “Anyway, I figured I could sit there and feel sorry for myself or…”

“Or…?”

“Or I could go get this crazy idea off my