The apartment was silent and still, as if, along with her, it had quieted its breath to listen to the sweet flow of Seung-Bae’s voice.  His hand hovered over the guitar strings, fingers darting in an intricate dance to create a sound so rich and soulful that it stripped her will, leaving her lethargic and entranced.

She couldn’t see his eyes.  They were hidden beneath the long, dark locks that covered his face, but when he would occasionally move, swaying and bending into the music like a tree branch in the wind, she could make out the firm cut of his jaw and the taunt stretch of his lips.

He sang to calm her.  He sang to calm himself.

She could hear it now, the subtle vibration of magic in his voice that spoke to her, beckoned her.  The magic she had given him with her kiss.  The magic that worked within him, changing what needed changing – calling out to remind her that it was ripe and ready.

As if she needed the false seduction.  As if she didn’t know what was required to sustain her own life. 

Seung-Bae’s voice had no need of the added edge, she lamented.  She’d tainted him – bruised him.  He was beautiful without it. 

She felt unstable.  After years of drifting, living alone with the sea and the wind, seeing the world through the distant, darkened glass of dreams, she was now inundated with the stimuli of the human world.  The sum of it left her exhausted and soul weary.

            The vision in the room at the top of the stairs plucked the edges of her mind, as if to remind her of something she ought to know, something she should remember.  And all of these humans around her, their emotions burned like vibrant and angry flames, bearing bitter fruit of action and consequence … her responsibility.  Her fault.

These thoughts ebbed and swelled like the familiar pattern of ocean waves.  She bobbed at their surface, fearful of delving too deep, suddenly feeling lost and saddened – unprepared.

The music stopped.

“I’m sorry about today,” Seung-Bae spoke to her, mistaking her sorrowful expression – thinking her misery a simple result of the day’s events.  “I had no idea he would do something like that.  And then I had to go meet my father.  I didn’t have a choice.  I’m sorry.”

She crawled across the floor to where he sat leaning against the side of the bed and cupped her hand over to whisper into his ear. 

“Do not blame your friend,” she entreated.  “He truly was trying to protect you.  What happened … it was not his fault.”

Seung-Bae sat the guitar onto the floor at his side.  His frustration rose as he replied, “You don’t understand.  This is typical Hawk.  He always needs to be in control of everything.”

“No,” she pressed her cheek to his and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It is my fault.  All of this is my fault. If you would just …”

He pulled away and rose to his feet.

“It’s late,” he announced.  “You should get some sleep.  There’s somewhere I need to go tomorrow morning.” 

He returned the guitar to its stand and then turned to face her. His eyes looked tired.  “Will you come with me?”

She nodded.  There was nothing else she could do.

.  .  .  .  .  .

It was early in the evening, and the Seocho district side street was fairly quiet.  The muggy air was warm and clingy, coaxing tickling beads of salty seat from Hawk’s forehead. He sulked as he stared into the twilight, watching absently as windows in the building across the street lit up, one by one. 

Hyun-Woo pushed his way through the convenience store’s heavy glass door, and a bell chimed softly.  He placed the bulging plastic bag he’d brought out with him on the sidewalk table. Inside, a twelve pack of silver cans clinked auspiciously.

Hyun-Woo sunk into a white plastic chair across from Hawk and pulled a pair of cans out of the bag. He slid one over the table, then popped open the top of the second.

He took a deep swig before breaking the silence.

“Seung-Bae’s father is back in Seoul.”

“What?” Hawk looked up at his friend.

Hyun-Woo nodded.  “Seung-Bae went to meet him after you left this morning.”

“Does he know?”

“About the girl?” Hyun-Woo shrugged.  “Who knows … he won’t like it that Seung-Bae’s keeping her in the apartment though.”

“What did he want?  Is he upset about the performances?”

“I don’t know what happened.  I haven’t had a chance to talk to Seung-Bae about it yet.”

“Things were so quiet,” Hawk turned to glance at the lights of a passing car. “Everything was going so well.” 

The evening had grown darker around them.  A pair of dusty moths fluttered around the overhead streetlight.

Hyun-Woo took another drink before responding, “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you two fight.”

Hawk sat with one leg crossed over the over, hunched and hugging his stomach.  He sniffed once, then blinked to clear his eyes.  Reaching out, he turned the silver can slow circles, staring at the blue and white lettering as if the answer to his sudden influx of problems were encoded somewhere on the label.

“So what happened,” Hyun-Woo pressed.

Hawk shrugged.

“You know … I feel it too,” Hyun-Woo admitted after a pause.

Hawk looked up and met his older friend’s gaze.

Hyun-Woo nodded then looked away. He chuckled ruefully.  “I sensed it from the first day.  There’s a strange attraction about her.  She’s beautiful, right?  But it’s more than that. She’s different, addictive in a way.” 

Hawk scowled. “She’s going to cause trouble.”

Hyun-Woo raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. “You might be right.  Maybe we should be doing something about it ...”

Hawk popped the top of his weeping can and lifted it to his lips.  He downed half in a series of quick gulps and then settled back into his chair. A familiar and comfortable warmth began to spread.

“Hyeong …” he announced after a moment.

“Mmm?”

“Let’s get drunk.”

“Mmm.

.  .  .  .  .  .

The bedroom was dark.  Like a portal into another world, light from the room beyond illuminated the thin open space at the base of the door.

Seung-Bae had made a bed on the floor for himself on the other side.  He guarded her as if she were something valuable, a precious thing.  It was somewhat comforting to know she still had that effect.

            She could just make out a portion of his profile from where she lay flattened against the floorboards with her cheek pressed against the smooth, slick wood.

Another night was passing.  He still would not come to her.  He was an arm’s length away, and a million miles.

Despite the thick barrier between them, she could hear the soft, steady sound of his breathing as he slept.  One of his hands rested against the bottom of the door, his dormant and calloused index finger just inches away.  She slid her fingertips underneath, trying to touch him. There wasn’t enough space.  But if she closed her eyes and focused, she could just feel the warmth from his skin.

Her own skin tingled, as if the tiny particles that made up the solidity of her flesh would crawl of their own volition to close the gap.  They entreated, craving and demanding resolution – closure.  But her mind refused to force it.  She would wait for him to be ready.  She must wait. She must let fate decide.  It was the only way she could stay sane. 

If that was even possible.

“Why is this happening to me?” she mouthed into the darkness.  It had never been like this.  Not once.  They’d always embraced her eagerly, immediately; each and every one, without fail.  Until now. 

The voice from the upstairs room echoed back at her in the desolate chambers of her mind.  “Who are you?” it demanded.

“I am nothing,” she replied.  “A solitary watcher.  A passing stranger.  I bear no threat.  I will soon be gone.”

“What are you?” it pressed, unbelieving.

“I am …” her eyes blinked to clear her distorted vision.  A trail of salty wetness slid across the bridge of her nose and onto the floor.  She’d been caught in her lie. 

“I am a thief in the night,” she admitted in a voiceless whisper.

On the other side of the door, Seung-Bae rolled over in his sleep to face her.  A deep sigh escaped his chest.  Long, black lashes fanned against the high rise of his cheekbone.

A sob broke free from as she watched the visible sliver of his dreaming face bathed in soft, yellow light. 

“What do you want from me?” she whispered, knowing no answer would come.