Let’s recap what happened, shall we? I mean, you know what happened, I know what happened, but let’s summarize. First, stop freaking out about the fact that I’m breaking the fourth wall, it’s not the first time I’ve done it. Second, let’s get on with it.

Spirit boy with headphones appears – for the second time, may I add.

Windows shatter beside me.

Glass goes flying everywhere.

Everything goes black.

And no, I didn’t faint.

I’m not some weakling who goes “oh my,” turns rosy cheeked, and collapses into the arms of a handsome stranger. Though, I must agree, I do see the appeal to it.

But, anyway, that sums it all up.

Yippidy-do-da.

The end.

Okay, both you and I know there’s more to it than that. And maybe that’s not an apt description of what happened in the least. Shrapnel didn’t go flying “everywhere.” Really, in reality, the glass trickled down gently, harmlessly falling right beneath the windows of each pane that randomly combusted.

But, well, to my hazed, hallucinating mind, it seemed like it had. It seemed like I was in an action movie, an explosion had gone off, and bam! Boom! Crash!

Shards go flying everywhere! Piercing body parts and splattering blood this way and that! Not as amazing when you put it in perspective – sort of morbid, really – but, yeah, that’s what how I pictured it happened at first, the sound caused by the sudden implosion screeching against my ears and effectively giving me a pounding headache.

But, you might be surprised to know that Bang Yongguk, Mr. Demon, did, in fact, call my name and cradle me to his chest like I was a fragile child as soon as it happened.

The thick color of black?

That would be the suffocating nature of the scarf around his neck that I proceeded to cough into after a few seconds of buzzing silence filled with distant shocked screams and fearful complaints over what had just occurred.

“Are you done?” I said into his scarf covered neck – though, it probably sounded something like “Arf Yuu Duf?” Which sounds deceivingly familiar to "Are you dumb?" Which, looking back on it, causes me to crack just the slightest of laughs.

He allowed me room to breath, giving me full view of the rather ticked off cocking of his black eyebrows, “Really? No, thank you? I just saved your life for the second time and you can’t even manage an, “Oh, Yongguk, thank you ever so much for always watching out for me, even though you don’t have to.””

“Now see,” I stepped back, trying to pull myself from his hands which remained fastened around my upper arms like shackles, “why should I say it when you already put it so beautifully?”

Yongguk opened his mouth to retort but then quickly shut it, shrugging his shoulders as though he gave up on me when it came to this specific moment. Which was, honestly, not fun at all. He should have one-upped me. He should have been the one who won our small argument. But, things get serious randomly when it comes to him. Or maybe, not so randomly.

It all depends on how random you view the inevitability of death to be.

Whatever you think, whatever he thinks, whatever I think, I’m still alive. So, no need to mourn my close brush with death. No need to look at me like that, Mr. Demon. It’s as though you actually care. Heck, maybe you actually do. If so, stop it.

Just don’t.

I can like you, but you can’t like me too.

Platonically, of course. The same can be said of Himchan, Daehyun, Youngjae, Jongup, and Zelo. This entire thing is temporary and I’d rather not have to go to work cutting our connections when neither of us want to. That makes it harder. That makes me not want to.

Thoughts of loneliness aside, the two lonely kids looking for their own little niche in the spirit world spoke up then, the tiny boy being the first to object to our entire trip with four simple words, “I wanna go home.”

As much as I’d like to say we all turned to him with the intent to placate his sudden sorrowful expression, we didn’t. I did, as much as I don’t like kids. But, the others didn’t. As though they didn’t hear his voice, as though he wasn’t there at all, I became the center of attention. Safe to say, I didn’t like it. Though, that doesn’t change the fact that it happened anyway.

“Miss Sora,” Jongup pulled the, now quite irritated looking, spirit girl along with him by their grasped hands, stepping up to me with the gravest of expressions, “are you alright?”

“Dammit,” Himchan cursed, stepping in front of me, shielding me along with Yongguk so that I could see absolutely nothing in front of me, “the little runt disappeared again.”

“Wonder what he wants.” Zelo appeared behind me like Houdini, peeking over my shoulder so as to ascertain the situation. Not a difficult task and certainly not one that required him to finish forming the three part protective wall that Mr. Demon and the Gumiho had started by standing as close as he was, seeing as he’s built like a tower.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter now.” Daehyun’s voice sounded from somewhere I couldn’t see due to the moat that had formed around my personal bubble, my miniature castle that three dragons protected even though I didn’t ask them to, and the list of medieval references could go on. But, as I’m not exactly feeling all too well, I rather not think harder than I have to.

Back to Daehyun, I’m pretty sure I know why he could care less about dawning a shining set of armor and coming to my aid. First, he’d never do that – he’s more like the shifty warlock who plots to have the queen overthrown for the second reason I’m about to name. Secondly, he’s much too hungry to care.

The queen must be dethroned in order for the entity keeping him from his third servings at all three meals of the day to disappear. Sorry, Daehyun, but I’m not going to let you eat Ms. Kim out of house and home, no matter how much she smiles as you do it.

“Let’s head on to the store for now.” Jongup breathed out, resigning to let it go for now, throwing one of his award winning smiles – that could make a puppy faint due to sheer adorableness – at the little spirit girl who held tightly onto his hand. Squeezing so hard it was as though she thought she could get something out of it. Candy? Lemon Juice? I honestly don’t know. All I know is that she looked utterly pissed.

I knew why. Jongup obviously didn’t, judging from the way he reacted to her words then, “We’re going back.” And she dropped his hand, fuming as she tugged on her brother’s arm, pulling him away from the situation.

“But,” Jongup watched as they disappeared into thin air, making use of their natural, spiritual abilities, the boy and the girl both, and a look of utter disappointment formed on his face, “ice cream?”

Poor thing.

But, like I said before this, I’m not exactly sure who he planned would pay for said treat. As such, I do not lament the loss of it as he did then. Plus, you don’t ignore a little girl’s precious brother. Shame on you. And here I thought you were a gentleman, Jongup.

“You shouldn’t be so selective with who you treat kindly.” I escaped through the cracks of the wall of bodies that had formed around me with much difficulty, able to reach where he was and give him a light, comforting pat on the shoulder. He turned to me, visibly confused, ice cream on the brain.

Daehyun next to him was showing a similarly downtrodden expression, sweet dreams of a chocolate mint and cookies and cream combo with hazelnuts and sprinkles – as I promptly bought him the next day since he wouldn’t shut up about it – melting under the morning sun. 

After noticing that ice cream should have been the last thing on our minds right now, Yongguk peeled his eyes off of me – thank you very much – and spared a glance around where we now stood, in the epicenter of the mini-calamity. Shopkeepers came out of their niches slowly, mystified as to how their store windows had managed to shatter and, judging from the glares they proceeded to throw this way and that, they were without a doubt looking for someone to blame.

“Let’s go.” Was his conclusion, “We should get out of here before they start asking questions.”

You’d think he’s been in many unexplainable and quite questionable circumstances before.

I believe it.

So here I was, right back in front of my grandparents’ home, about to walk inside all dandy like. About to put the issues of two spirit children behind me for the day. About to forget the boy with headphones who seems hell bent of being the deliverer of me to my deathbed. About to sleep until noon, because school. At least, until it starts up again next week. But, nothing is that easy.

No, there was one person – though in hindsight, more like two – that was looking to take away my sense of false security.

The first was Youngjae.

Youngjae, who stared at me as blankly as can be, as natural as can be, from his position in the front yard while the others walked back to Ms. Kim’s house next door. Youngjae, who decided he wouldn’t depart as quickly as they after issuing to me their goodbyes. Youngjae, who, now that I think about it, hadn’t said a single word regarding the boy with the headphones, my personal grim reaper.

Youngjae, who uttered the following without the least bit of consideration for my personal preferences, “You should ask Yongguk to stay over for a few days.”

Wait, what? Why? Hell no.

“Hell no.” Was my immediate reply.

What can I say? I’m a woman who doesn’t hold back her words when it comes to the absurd, the outlandish, and the plain idiotic.

“Okay,” he shrugged, as though he could care less, “but let me give you one more piece of advice.”

“Shoot.”

And yet, his next words showed that he was caring a lot more about my two near death experiences than he let on – typical Youngjae.

With a fleeting glance casted over his shoulder, his eyes darting towards somewhere I couldn’t see, looking for something I wouldn’t be able to name at the time, the Dokkaebi refused to take no for an answer, “You should ask Yongguk to stay over for a few days.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

He nodded, “I would like to think I air on the side of hilarious.”

“How you can say that with a straight face” I sighed, giving into his idea, despite my better judgment, “is unbelievable. Your arrogance amazes me.”

“It’s not arrogance when it’s true.” He corrected me, smiling like a salesman who had succeeded in selling me an unreliable product. Hell, if he told me he was a part of a group similar to the F4 when he was in highschool, I’d believe him. And I wouldn’t be wrong in doing so because, according to him, it’s not arrogance, it’s not vanity, it’s not a false sense of confidence, if it’s true.

And next thing I knew, Mr. Demon and I were sitting, legs crossed, on the carpet in front of each other in my bedroom, my computer on my desk playing a variety program I had missed the night before. He followed me without me having to even ask twice – which is surprising considering you’d expect him to utilize all chances to blackmail or embarrass me. Though, I suppose it’s the attraction of the bowl of tangerines

I was bringing with me to my room that made him follow me. Or, rather, his not-arrogant-in-the-least belief in the fact that if I was eating something in front of him, he’d end up with a free meal. Damn my reflexive, good-naturedness. Remember, it’s not arrogance if it’s a fact.

And, well, since his mind was currently distracted and his usual, rough, teasing personality lying temporarily dormant for the variety show dominated winter, I’d thought I’d take advantage of the situation.

“Thank you.” I absentmindedly watched as my fingers pinched into the orange flesh of the tangerine, not sparing him a glance, not feeling like I had to for him to know my sincerity, “For saving my life twice, thank you.”

He didn’t answer me right away. And well, I wasn’t about to look up and try to judge what he was thinking any more than I was going to peek up at him at all. Thanking him wasn’t something I disliked or found shameful. I simply didn’t thank people often. I simply don’t. I mean, not for the things that matter anyway. I thank an older man when he holds the door open for me. I thank a girl when she picks up the pencil case I drop on my way to class.

I don’t thank my mom or my grandmother for taking care of me when I’m sick. I say, “I love you,” and call it a day. I mean it, too, of course.  And when I feel such gratitude towards someone, those are the words I say instead of “thank you.” But, well, this was my life we were talking about. The second time I may have not been as much danger as the first but, still. Still.

“I love you” seemed outrageously drastic though.

So, I settled for “thank you,” even though my tone of voice betrayed me.

And I turned out to be the serious sounding one in this particular situation.

And I hate sounding serious.

So, I couldn’t have been more thankful he finally decided to speak up – something I would say “thank you” for.

Though, I certainly didn’t expect his next words, the seriousness of the conversation reaching new peaks I didn’t find myself fleeing from as readily as I would have in the past. Maybe because we were alone. Maybe because there was no reason to be self-conscious. Maybe because I didn’t like it either; running this way and that, playing with words, making games out of life, at every turn.

I was just tired, I think.

I wanted to be honest with this demon of mine, even if it was only this moment in which I was.

“Why couldn’t you just say that earlier, Sora?”

I ignored the fact that he said my name for the first time since he yelled it down the halls of my house, the female spirit now peacefully passed on named Sulli sitting in my room, the entire situation as natural as can be. The way he called my name so natural I didn’t even notice he had said it. The act of me peeling fruits for him as we sat on the floor of my room, legs crossed, the night’s quiet something I had never stopped to listen to before, so natural that I had grown comfortable.

I shrugged, giving him information regarding a weakness he could use against me in the future. Something I only realized the next morning, my dreams consisting of a fiery pit whose every edge echoed with his over-the-top, rasping laughter. The funny thing is, he never did.

The funnier thing is, even though I was setting out to tell the truth, I still twisted it. I played with my words. I made a game out of it. And I felt comfortable doing it, sarcasm always my language of choice.

“I don’t know if you noticed it but, I do have to look after five spirits and a low level demon. Playing tough is the best way to deal with the pressure. Words of gratitude are for weaklings, like yourself.”

I handed him the tangerine I had finished peeling at this point.

And he took it without another word, laughing that laugh of his as he eyed me.

As I eyed the floor, peeling another as natural as can be.