Strange. Forks is just as I remember it - cold, dreary, stale and absorbent. Everything just gets into it, tossed over and wrung grey before becoming part of its background. An endless consciousness of muted trees, muted roads and muted air. 

I guess there's a "serene, peaceful" beauty to be appreciated, if you're strongly attached to this town. But there's honestly nothing peaceful - its "quiet" feels like stark silence, and instead of raindrops pattering lightly, it's always cloudy, like the sky can't commit to its downpour. Unsatisfying. 

Dad gives me a smile, crinkly at the edges and full of laugh-lines. I smile back, polite and determined to be mild-mannered. 

"Hey, the flight here must have been long," he says.

I nod back. Small talk is strange when it's between strangers who are also intimately related. "Yeah, but now I'm here." 

Dad nods, and I realise that much of the distance might actually stem from a culture of conservative, timid affection. I should thank him, I think, but saying it aloud feels weird and formal, even if this is what it is. 

We walk to his car instead, and I trail behind him just close enough. When he turns to a police cruiser, I bite back a sigh. 

Of course. Dad's a policeman, and it wouldn't make sense to be frivolous with getting a second car. When we get nearer, I realise it's the same one since my childhood, when I was still living in Forks. It's clean and fresh on the inside, impersonal but also indicative of the effort Dad's put in with his car. Or maybe it's because it's a work car. Still.

"You've still got the same car," I say lightly, reaching for my seatbelt. 

"It's the department's, we can't afford better." I indulge him with a chuckle, so he continues, "But nowadays everyone's got flashy cars. You too, I think."

I spare him a look. "I can't drive."

"You want me to drop you off?" he says casually, but we know better - it's an unspoken offer of affection.

I shrug. "Only if it's convenient for you." 

"We'll see how."

And we fall back into comfortable silence. I lean against the window, and drift off into sleep.

He's not kidding. I find myself half-awake in the front of his cruiser the next morning. Something about admissions papers before being able to join the school the following week. 

So there I am, charted to school on an early Saturday morning while my loyalties remain firmly with my bed in the house. 

When I wake up, half my face is damp with drool, and my neck oddly stiff. I stretch, blinking twice and taking in the cool tones of the school despite its red brickwork. Even the asphalt grey of the road looks crushed and turquoise, a reflection of the darkening skies overhead. 

We enter what looks like the admissions office, and a kind lady smiles up at us. She's clearly been playing minesweeper on her computer - I can recognise that tune from anywhere, courtesy of terrible WiFi connection in Forks and a lot of spare time when I was young. 

"Hey, Mr Yoon, is that your son?" She looks confused - it's undoubtedly the long hair. 

"Yeah," I say, lowering my voice purposefully. "Good morning."

She smiles again. "Great, I'll just tell Mr Harvey you're here. He's meeting with Mr Hong right now. Take a seat!"

Dad nods. "It's alright, take your time."

We settle in a hard, booth-like couch. Dad looks around at the furnishings, photographs of alumni and sports meets and the occasional newspaper cutting boasting some trivial accomplishment. I follow his gaze, and my eye stops at the sight of a "Mr Hong" listed as a sponsor and alumni on the wall.

"Hey Dad, who's Mr Hong?" 

He looks at me weirdly. "Don't you remember? He's the doctor who treated your ankle that time."

I've a vague inkling, but that's just it. Something else escapes me, and I can't help but feel there's a whole cast and meaning behind that forgotten memory. Strange. 

I twiddle my thumbs some more, until a gentleman in a casual dress shirt and pants exits the room. It must be the doctor, though he certainly looks really young. Botox? I bite down a cheeky smile and nod when he walks in our direction. 

"See you, Mr Hong," the receptionist titters sweetly, and then, to me, "Mr Yoon, you may meet Mr Harvey now."

"Ah, Mr Yoon," Mr Hong greets, and they shake hands formally. "Your son has returned from Arizona."

"Yes. I hear your son is returning from LA?" 

At this distance I realise exactly what is so ... dapper about the man. Not only does he smell clean (unclinical, I might add, for a doctor) and fresh, he's got perfect skin. It's weird how lightly brown his eyes are - but then again I'm terrible at telling adults by their ages. After a certain point most adults look the same. It's only white hair that transforms them into wise, knowing detectives. 

"Yes, Joshua's taking a tour of the school now." I perk up at the mention of the name - something familiar about it, but I can't really pinpoint where I heard of it.

Then again, this is America. Call out "Joshua" and you'd probably get enough to form a football team.

"Hey, I'm going to meet Mr Harvey," I say.

Dad nods, and Mr Hong excuses himself in that sleek, graceful manner. What a man.

I'm left to wander the school halls alone; Dad got a call from the station about some wild beast attacks. To be honest, the school layout is pretty straightforward - the halls are widely spaced, and there's an inkling of a well-ventilated design. Too bad there isn't anything besides the constant musk in Forks' weather. 

I gravitate towards the noise of whistles and balls bouncing. It's the gymnasium, of course, and walking around these quiet halls makes it seem like I'm just stalking the place down. With my long hair, I wouldn't be surprised if someone mistook me for a ghost. 

I scoot nearer the gymnasium doors and peek in. There's a team of boys practicing, or having a mock match. They've all got matching bibs and shorts, it's a bit tacky. There doesn't seem to be a coach around - I would have ditched the bibs then. But they're not bad; every spectator is always suddenly a judge of things like these - I could have, I would have, if it were me... I'm prone to that too.

There's a boy with a gummy smile, and he scores easily. There's something trained about his physique that makes him easy on the eyes. I watch for a bit longer, and make to leave before being spotted as a creep. 

"Hey!" The boy with the gummy smile shouts, and I jump away from the door. 

As I look around, figuring my options, I find a figure down a hallway staring at me. I squint - catlike eyes, sleek and fitted silhouette, and a gentle command of his own presence. Huh. A student? 

"Hey, you're new here," the gummy boy says into my ear, and I almost trip. He steadies me, and notices the ethereal being on the end of the hallway too. "Oh, you too!" 

I nod. "Yeah, hi."

"I'm Choi Seungcheol," and then, eyes narrowing, he gives me a considering look. "You're not from the rival basketball team, are you."

I roll my eyes and shove my arm into his gaze. It's perfected the art of being extremely pale from the years of sleeping in and avoiding any thing that required rigor. It's said that I look like I would fit in well in a zombie apocalypse. 

Seungcheol glances down the hallway. "You- hey, where did he go?" 

The strange boy-man-being is gone. Maybe that's a ghost. Or... Mr Hong's son.

Someone pounces onto Seungcheol's back. "S. Coups! Who's this? He's pretty!"

Seungcheol laughs. I can't help but want to smile too. "I'm Yoon Jeonghan, I'm a new student."

"Ohhhhhh! Mr Yoon's son!" The boy squeals, and everyone from the team comes running to us. "I'm Kwon Soonyoung!" 

Seungcheol gives me a once-over. "Don't tell your father about Soonyoung; he won't let you hang out with us anymore."

Soonyoung whines, and the other boys guffaw. I smile simply. "I haven't decided if I want to hang out with you."

Seungcheol fakes taking a blow to the heart, and a shorter boy beside him gives me an approving nod.

Seungcheol is an utter jock. I say this with absolutely no irony - I will defend this identity of his in its purest sense. That boy will not last a fraction of a second if the words "gains", "lift", "bro", "my man", and the awkward tweak of his pinkie every time he dabs were banned. Hell, they'd rewrite the constitution to make an exception in his favour.

I try not to think about the fact that he probably snorts protein powder in his down time. 

When I get to school in the cruiser, my first thought is (1) why does everyone know how to drive, and then (2) why is everyone staring. Seungcheol hops over from his truck, as does everyone from Saturday. Carpooling sounds like a much better option now.

"Hello Mr Yoon!" Seungcheol says, the perfect picture of a golden retriever. 

Dad smiles back. "Seungcheol, how are you?"

Everyone knows my father - he transforms into a hip, chill uncle with loads of stories and insider experience in no time. I try not to think about the irony of this small talk extending beyond some of our own conversations.

But I draw the line at Seungcheol conditioning my dad to dab his goodbyes. 

Wheeling everyone away, I spot a flashy looking car roll up (could it be the legendary parallel parking?!) to an empty spot. Soonyoung spots it too and hoots. A new car then. Unless someone else in town struck gold, this was probably the Joshua Hong I'd heard about. 

When we walk past the car, the catlike boy exits from his luxurious, shiny metal carriage in a fluid motion. I don't really know how to describe it, but wow, he's kind of hot. In that same weird glowy way his father was.

Joshua, or at least, I'm assuming he's Joshua and not another random transfer student, pays us no attention. But he does look surprised when he sees me. 

I use the word "see" in the loosest of ways - somehow I don't think his eyes are registering me as much as his instincts? If it makes sense, I think of it like having an antenna and just picking up on things. 

"You guys know him?" I whisper to Jihoon.

Seungcheol picks up on my question and spins around to see Joshua. "Oh hey! You're that kid from Saturday!" 

Joshua literally glides towards us in one fell swoop. It must be the long legs and the practiced flounce. I don't think anyone is able to walk so quickly and without any strain. Knees exist, for one, as do crunchy pebble-lined grounds. He stands upright next to us, and I feel the sharp contrast between our streetwear and his smart-casual outfit. There's no other way to describe someone who irons the collars of their white dress shirt till it's crisp. 

He's dapper. 

"Joshua Hong," he says, and I'm surprised by how soft and tender his voice is. "Sorry about Saturday; I had to run."

"Hey it's cool man," Seungcheol says, his grin warm. "Oh yeah, Choi Seungcheol here." 

The rest quickly make their introductions. 

I smile at him, and when he fixes his gaze on me there are weird tiny earthquakes in my stomach. Like the premonitions of an oncoming indigestion. 

So the thing about Joshua is that he gets very fidgety and is hyperaware of personal space. I once brushed past him and he immediately stiffened. And then he apologised. I understand; if I wore Armani or some high end brand, I'd rather not risk any possibility of a stain from stupidity. Even shadows have to be evaluated. 

The weeks pass by quickly. Some days he's in town, other days he's just gone and no one really comments on it. Except Seungcheol, but then again he's the clingy one and he's always sharply observant. 

"Joshua's not here again, huh," Seungcheol says, furrowing his brows again.

"What? Yeah." 

"Neither are his brothers."

Mmm. The second thing about Joshua is that he's got a clan of attractive, dapper siblings too. We got to know them pretty fast once Seungcheol and co. swooped in and rolled them into a friendship torpedo. Something like that - watching Seungcheol dish out dad jokes after dad jokes, it's hard to believe that they're "cold and aloof" like what's been going around the grapevine. Vernon, especially, laughs like he's about to do backflips. Even Seungkwan looks more human somehow.

The thought is strange, but then again I really wonder if they just have a taste for the obscurely heroin chic vibe or. If they're just as unhealthy as I am. I don't think I've ever seen them in gym. Might just be anaemia. 

Jihoon gives Seungcheol a Look. "If you paid more attention to your Chemistry class you just might pass." 

The weird thing happens again when Joshua comes back. I'm late (Dad had to stay overnight for some administrative bungle) this one morning, and we have lab. See, I've got to preface this by explaining that our Chemistry labs in particular have a lot of ventilation. There are at least two extra fans next to the door in addition to a persistent, whining overhead ceiling fan. I have no idea what they do besides waste the school budget. 

So I'm running in, and I forgot my hair ties, and my hair just tangles around my head. It's almost like a mini hurricane in here. I look around to see that the seat next to Seungcheol is occupied by a very enthusiastic Soonyoung. 

So I slide into the seat next to Joshua, who looks like he's absolutely repelled by me. He grimaced but shuffles away, as far as he can get on the bench. Something about him looks off. More solemn, I think. I can't put my finger on it. Maybe he's just hangry. 

The wind blows in our direction again, and he stiffens as I sweep my hair out of my face. At this point it's kind of pissing me off, and if it were anyone else, like Seungcheol, I would have punched them in the arm. But I don't. Because Joshua is usually a gentleman. 

"So where have you been? Cheol was all over your absence," I say.

He doesn't sound like he's breathing. But his words come at a carefully composed and measured pace. "We went for a hiking trip."

I snort. "Yeah. And I'm an Olympic level bodybuilder."

He chuckles politely and jerks away when I put my pale arm next to his. We're almost the same shade of poor blow circulation. Amazing. The poor boy looks like he's getting even paler. He grips his end of the table, and doesn't let go even as he continues patronising my small talk. 

I almost fall asleep on him in class - but his skin is so cold that I jolt back up. That, and the fact that he looks like he's just smelt Seungcheol's socks after gym. I should feel offended, but honestly, whatever. He's not a good pillow anyway.

Seungcheol drops by when class ends. "Hannie! You forgot your hair ties again?"

I nod, and he holds his hand out, a force of habit, really. As I peel the extra hair ties off Seungcheol's wrist, Joshua makes his way out. We let him, even though it's pretty obvious that he's trying to avoid us. 

Joshua doesn't come back after that period. 

"Hey Dad," I call from the kitchen, caught by a sudden thought. "You remember Mr Hong?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You said he fixed my ankle - do you remember what happened?"

Dad walks in and makes himself a cup of coffee. He frowns, stirring in two sugars. 

It's been dancing on the tip of my tongue for a while now - I'm sure I've seen Joshua Hong somewhere, but that strange (and mostly inaccurate) sense of deja vu has followed me since the first Saturday. There's just something clumping at the memory where I should have spent my summer at Forks five years ago. Or ten. The point is, nothing about those wet, moist and heavy days really stand out to me. only nights of minesweeper and television static blocking out my parents' arguments. 

"No, not really. I think you fell from a tree?" He tries, but we both know that would require me to even climb one. I don't think my muscle vocabulary then even understood the concept of anything beyond lying down.

"Hm," I say. 

The doorbell rings. It's Seungcheol and his gang. Chan's called dips on shotgun, but I know I can coddle him out of it. He barely looks at me before jumping out and slotting himself beside Soonyoung and Jihoon. Easy game. 

Seungcheol shoots me an amused look, and I can't help but smile back. "Chan's gonna sue you for emotional trauma one day."

"No he won't. He's my baby."

Seungcheol snorts at that. "Yeah. I almost thought you wouldn't be waking up today because of the storm."

"Would you have let me walk to school in this flood?" I tease. 

"He should have!" Chan shouts from the back. "And stop flirting when the rest of us are out here!" 

I roll my eyes. Seungcheol chortles, and I give him a look - "watch and learn."

To Chan, I put on my sweetest, most saccharine voice, "It's been a while since we did that, haven't we?" 

I can hear his blood literally rush out of his face. Too bad humans have a closed circulatory system. 

"Nonononononono," he whines, while Soonyoung laughs.

"Dino, whose baby are you?" 

There's a rare silence as Seungcheol's truck stutters and jerks over the roadbumps. 

"...Jeonghan's baby."

We do get to school in one piece. The floor's pretty wet, and I almost regret wearing my one pair of good shoes. The fact that Seungcheol's truck was uncooperative and unsteady the whole way doesn't help either. 

So I'm standing there, half-asleep on my wet and soaking feet when I hear the telltale signs of a screeching vehicle. Someone is screaming - loud and shrill. I look up from my reverie in time to see a car coming straight for me. It's skidding too fast, out of control, and for some reason, I spot Joshua Hong on the other side of the parking lots.

I know, when cars come screeching towards the protagonist, they're usually just standing around in shock, waiting for their love interests to swoop in and save the day. I know, I'm the type to yell at them to move or roll over. But when it comes to the real thing, I couldn't register what the image of a car ruthlessly rushing towards me meant.

Someone grabs and drags me away just as a loud crash and cringe can be heard. 

"Seungcheol?" I say, looking down at the figure I've just fallen on top of. 

And then he winced, and I realise I'm crushing him. His hand, wedged between our bodies, is still gripping onto my arm. I get off him immediately and turn to look at where I was.

Joshua's crouched in that tiny space, his arm pressed against the side of the oncoming car, causing a dent in its side. I look at him, and then at the driver, who is clearly stunned and near-fainting. 

"Are you an idiot," Seungcheol says, gritting his teeth. 

"Call an ambulance," I say, and walk towards Joshua instead. 

Joshua removes his arm from the wrecked metal, and his arm looks perfectly normal. We exchange glances, and he gets up, too unaffected for someone just involved in a car accident. He brushes dust off his clothes, and the incredulity of the situation hits me.

"You weren't anywhere near me," I say, trying to block out the murmurs and panic around us.

"I was, Jeonghan," he says, not uneasily.

"I saw you all the way over there," I insist, swatting at Seungcheol's hand. 

Seungcheol says, "Oh. Josh, you okay?" 

"Yeah man."

"No, no, no - Cheol, Joshua wasn't here just now." 

Seungcheol nods, but his manner is curt. I turn around to fix him with a glare.  "We should probably check if the driver's okay."

Joshua turns to look into the front window, and almost heaves a sigh of relief. The girl has collapsed onto her steering wheel, and Seungcheol is opening the driver's door to get to her. Despite the commotion, everything seems to be fine - he carries her out bridal style, just in time as the ambulance sirens blare into our ears. Joshua is next to me in an instant, and I flinch. I know what I saw, and I know that something is off about this boy.

"You'll need to get checked," he says soothingly, but we all know that's how you die in horror movies. Listen to a silky voice and before you know it, you've got a knife stabbed into your heart.

"You weren't here," I say in a low voice. "I know what I saw -"

"Concussion, then," he says quickly, calling a paramedic over. "Excuse me, there's a boy here who was almost hit by the car."

"You caused a dent," I point out, my indignant finger jabbing in the general direction of the wrecked car door. "A car that didn't come into contact with anything besides your arm."

He smiles, but it's fake and cold. "I think you need to make sure you're not hurt."

The paramedic comes up to us, and I look over to see Seungcheol carefully placing the girl (who's clearly no longer unconscious) down on a stretcher. He catches my eye, and I look back at the paramedic in front of us. She's already checking me for scratches or abrasive wounds. 

"Don't think this is over, Joshua Hong," I say, but he's gone.

Dad is on his way to pick me up. It's honestly not a big deal - I'm not even hurt. If anything, they should be checking Seungcheol; he's had to endure at least 60kg of weight sandwiching him against the ground, and then carrying a girl all the way across the parking lot. 

Speaking of which, Seungcheol's waiting with me - a get-out-of-class free pass, I suppose. But it's kind of irritating that he's not even looking at me, and the girl from the incident has been speaking at him under the pretence of going to the washroom. She spares me a smile, like she's trying to be nice, but I'm too miffed to reciprocate. 

"I can't believe it though - I thought there was something wrong with my brakes," she's prattling on, like she isn't skipping class.

"Yeah, it rained pretty badly last night," he says, like that's an accomplishment or something. 

"I know, honestly, thanks man, for pulling him," she jerks her head at me, "out of the way. I wouldn't want to graduate with murder on my hands."

"So you'd be fine with murder after graduation?" they laugh, like it's the funniest joke he's ever told.

(it's not bad, but since I'm not part of that conversation, I'm not going to laugh.)

The itch becomes almost unbearable, and I want to run. So instead, I pick up my backpack from the floor, and say goodbye to the empty halls. Before I know it, I'm striding angrily out the doors and past the front gates. Every puddle becomes Choi Seungcheol's stupid, eager face, and every splash reminiscent of that driver-girl's cheerful smile. I pause, and give in to the temptation to turn around. But the lack of noise that followed me since leaving the building has been obvious enough. 

I dial my father's number. "Hey, Dad."

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Did they find-" his worry makes the itch sting a little more.

"No, I'm just walking home. With Seungcheol. It's alright."

"Seungcheol? Ah, okay then," he says, and I want to punch something at the way relief takes over his voice. "I'll be home earlier."

lee chan  | online

dinOPE [5:32pm]: yo, are you ok?

angel1004 [5:33pm]: aw, is my baby worried about me?

angel [5:33pm]: :*

dinOPE [5:34pm]: ew gr0ss

dinOPE [5:34pm]: 'its just bc u suddenly disappeared after the thing yknow like

dinOPE [5:34pm]: were told u got hit???????' - hosh

dinOPE [5:35pm]: every1s worried and u went home early

dinOPE [5:36pm]: +coups woudnt tell us

angel1004 [5:36pm]: GASP

angel1004 [5:36pm]: my baby????? swearing????

angel1004 [5:36pm]: who taught u to swear??

dinOPE [5:37pm]: ............. im 18

angel1004 [5:37pm]: no ur not

ange1004 [5:37pm]: ur my baby

dinOPE [5:40pm]: jihoon here

dinOPE [5:41pm]: the point is, you almost got hit by a car, there was an ambulance, people were freaking out on twitr and , and by lunch break you're nowhere to be seen. even sc is moody and has nothing to say. by second last period there are rumours going around that you're dead.

dinOPE [5:42pm]: soonyoung almost did an eulogy for you.

dinOPE [5:42pm]: 'it says: to yjh, who was sleeping on everybody, haha, get it' -hosh 

angel1004 [5:44pm]: yeah i see ur point

dinOPE [5:45pm]: mmmmmmmmmmm k

an: this is just gonna be the first part because wow wtf i did not realise twilight was long - do you think i should continue with a second/third part. also i cant believe there's a gradesaver page for twilight what school is studying this???