I have a confession to make. 

I know it’s not fair of me. It’s the farthest from it in fact. It’s selfish and self-serving. The stomachache I had after I said it made me feel worse than the one I usually get after eating shellfish. All jokes aside, I shouldn’t have told him. 

I mean, I did. I can’t take that back. I can’t not feel the feels I felt then. Turning back time is impossible. Regretting it, wondering what I could have done differently, dwelling on the look of lament he gave me was pointless. Because I did it. And there was no rephrasing it. There was no fixing what I already broke. 

Enough!

This is depressing, isn’t it? 

Let me get to the point before I start crying.

We were sitting at our favorite neighborhood restaurant. They sold all the seafood, vegetable, kimchi, and beef pancakes under the rainbow. We hadn’t been in awhile, so I wanted to treat him today. A kind of, “Thanks for being patient with me after all this time.” But he wouldn’t let me. He, hold on. 

. 

Excuse me for a second.

I know there’s all that stuff I said earlier! I know there’s no point! I get it! I said it so of course I get it! 

me. 

I’m sorry. 

Oh Sehun, I’m so sorry. 

Let’s try this again, minus the tears this time. 

We were sitting at our favorite neighborhood restaurant. They sold all the seafood, vegetable, kimchi, and beef pancakes under the rainbow. We hadn’t been in awhile, so I wanted to treat him today. A kind of, “Thanks for being patient with me after all this time.” But he wouldn’t let me. He insisted on paying as he ordered each of each kind. He didn’t have enough money to spend it so wastefully like that, but wasteful he was. 

Wasteful he was with that stare of his, as as he raised his chopsticks to his lips, a hefty helping of kimchi pancake about to make it’s pleasant way into his mouth hole, my own dumb mouth hole blurted out, “I like Bang Yongguk.”

“What?” He made this face. His lips set into a firm line. His jaw clenched forward. His eyes squinted as though he were holding back tears. He made this face, and I ignored it.

“He’s one of my grandfather’s friends.” The title, no matter how right it was, seemed to have changed in how it rolled off my tongue now, “He has slightly dark skin, a huge, gummy smile, and eyes that push up,” I mimicked Mr. Demon’s eye-smile as affectionately as possible, “like that when he laughs like you’re the most hilarious living thing he’s ever seen.” 

“I didn’t ask who. I know exactly who he is.”

I let out a verbal “Ah” and stuffed my dumb, embarrassing mouth hole, shutting myself up with a mouthful of green onions and, what tasted like, salmon. The only thing I’m allergic to is grass. As long as my meals don’t involve rolling through a patch of it repeatedly, I can eat just about anything without fear. Then again, I haven’t tried all the food the world has to offer. Maybe I’m allergic to a certain kind of chocolate-covered scorpion and I just don’t know it yet. 

All tangents aside, Sehun wasn’t exactly all too happy about the ball I had dropped on him. Like Wile E. Coyote the first time that ACME anvil dropped down on his head, he was thoroughly pissed at me. Maybe because he didn’t expect it from me? 

I mean, the last time we talked about having romantic relationships with another person was when he brought up his ex-girlfriend he recently saw during a family outing to a strawberry farm in the country — quite the awkward situation to be sure. Plucking fruits under both the hot sun and the hotter, glaring gaze of an ex was something he explicitly told me had, “sworn me off of strawberries for at least three months.” 

And that precise conversation had occurred three months ago. The time before that, he was telling me about a bakery that he both loved and hated to go to. He was the celebrity of the female population both working there to eat and going there to eat. An older, remarkably attractive grad student came onto him apparently, promising him a summer break in Hawaii — where she was going to study the marine life for a handful of months. He rejected her, saying he’d rather “sweat on my own time, so thanks but no thanks.” That was approximately four months ago. 

Five months ago, he had quite the interesting story involving karaoke, potato chips, a pomeranian, and a blonde beauty from Europe. Suffice to say, something unbelievably romantic happens to Sehun at least once a month. I say “at least,” because who knows what incredible love life he’s not telling me about?

Again, if it wasn’t already obvious, he’s always the one bringing up this kind of stuff. 

Not me. 

Never me. 

Was that what made him mad? That the infallibly unwanted me actually desired to pursue another person, spirit, thing? Shouldn’t he be happy for me? The last time I had a boyfriend was in my second year of high school. I deserved to like someone, don’t you think? Everyone deserves to like someone and to be liked by someone, don’t you think?

So what the hell was his problem?

“I asked ‘what?’” Sehun clarified, dropping his chopsticks back down onto his plate, not taking that first, big bite he had intended to, “As in, ‘what the actual , Sora?’” 

I delivered a hard kick to his leg under the table for that. Because he didn’t have to put it like that. He really didn’t have to keep putting it like that. 

“What is with your potty mouth? What did I do to deserve your foul words, Oh Sehun? Just what exactly are you thinking lately that’s got you so pissed at me?” I asked, because I honestly didn’t like being cursed at. No one does. I say such things in reference to my own actions, my own mistakes, but I would never consciously do so towards Sehun. He didn’t do anything to deserve that. But, for some reason, in his mind, I did something to deserve that. 

“What, what, what, what?” He yelled back, surprising me. Surprising everyone, really. Once more, the attention of all of those around us were enraptured by him and his impulsively childish, nonsensical nature. But, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. He’s my childish, crybaby. He’s my Oh Sehun. 

And since he’s mine, it didn’t feel right to argue with him like this. At least, not when I felt like I had truly done something wrong. At least, not when he looked at me like that. At least, not with the future in hindsight. A future I didn’t know then as I kicked his leg again and he let out a sharp cry of pain, his upper lip twitching as he threw daggers at me with his eyes. 

“I forgive you with that.” I announced, turning back towards the food in front of us. 

I didn’t want to waste it: the meal he was paying for. A fact I wasn’t going to let him change his mind about seeing as how it was already there in front of us. After classes followed by classes and even more classes, we finally got to get together for dinner on this cool day at the end of May. Exams were coming up soon too. This was a precious time for us. I didn’t want to waste it. 

“Break it apart for me,” he provided his own ultimatum, pushing his plate towards me. I did what he said without hesitation, stabbing the large pancakes with my chopsticks to yank off section after section. When I finished, when I looked back up at him, he was giving me that look again. 

That look of lament. 

A word I didn’t understand the meaning of then.

And he said, “I heard about the fight you had with your ‘grandfather’s friends’ from Bang Yongguk. He called me on your grandfather’s phone and told me to comfort you. That you needed me. He didn’t explain the situation, so I didn’t know what to say to you even if I had met up with you when you texted me with the promise of food. I was mad. I still am.” He looked down to his plate, seemingly admiring my work, before locking eyes with me again, giving me puppy dog eyes to rival Jongup’s own, to perhaps even triumph over the Haechi’s own, “Am I still needed by you?”

I laughed, making light of the situation as per usual, “When will I ever not need you?”

Oh Sehun was wasted on me. 

Two months after I mistakingly broke Oh Sehun’s heart, though I wouldn’t know that then, and I’m enjoying a Summer day on an air-conditioned bus with my demon and five spirits. Considering how hot it was back at the shrine just this morning, I easily deemed my current germ-infested hell-on-wheels a paradise.

In case you were wondering, the kids, Amber and Kris, are doing fine. After months of knowing them, they finally let me know their names — and finally stopped calling me Captain Sore Eye, though Kris persists every now and then. Anyway, you might be wondering more than just their current physical status. 

After our, long awaited, visit to the supermarket, I finally found out why they had wanted to go so badly in the first place. 

It was where they belonged, and I’m not must talking about the snack aisle. 

Couples buying this and that, children running about, fellow singles contemplating whether to eat noodles again tonight or to actually cook for once. Believe it or not, all the work they did in the shrine prepared them for this moment of their afterlife. They practically work there now, unpaid by choice.

They keep the small child from falling out of the shopping cart. The mother from forgetting what the last item on her list was. The couples from fighting between pork and chicken for the night — many a man has literally had packages ricochet off the shelves right into their temples.

They became what Bang Yongguk and my grandfather call Haetae.

Like Zelo and Jongup, the Xiezhi and the Haechi, they’re protector spirits now. 

Spirits of the supermarket.

May it never go out of business.

Since then, I’ve helped quite a handful of spirits. There was the construction worker with the desire to have his wife cook one last dinner for him. There was the young man who never got to tell his university professor to “ it.” There was the younger boy who wanted to hear one last bedtime story.

Jongkook. Siwon. Heejun. Maria. Jieun. Nicole. Jin. Jessica.

Jessica’s the only spirit still here, Himchan thankfully introducing her to “The Ways of the Gumiho.” 

And I say “thankfully” because while I wouldn’t wish eternity onto anyone, I couldn’t help but think, “Finally.”

Finally, I wasn’t left to watch as another friend disappeared into the great beyond.

Because it kind of after awhile. 

Speaking of things that , how about that skin contact I’m having between Mr. Demon’s exposed thigh and my knee? He, along with everyone else in the city, had ditched the long jeans in the face of the summer season. So skater shorts it was for him, riding up just slightly where he sat beside me. Sure, Himchan was on my other side, trapping me with his lame jokes and contagious laughter, but I’d say I got a pretty good deal out of this bus ride in the end.

Considering the fact that right after you realize you like someone, you notice all the times where you’re not touching them — which I’ve realized amounts to much more than I originally thought — and subsequently end up wallowing in misery, asking yourself in a pained yell, “How am I supposed to woo them if Fate won’t give me a chance,” this kind of opportunity had me flying high on cloud nine. 

So high, I felt adventurous. 

 “Have you ever even left Korea before?”

This.

This question.

This question is a big deal for me.

Why?

Because it’s the first question I’ve ever asked all of them about their past. 

Not that they noticed, anyway.

“Only a few times.” Youngjae boringly answered first, too distracted reading the news on the cellphone my grandfather got him to share with Yongguk: the responsible ones. Why wasn’t Jongup included? Well, he almost forgot to put on shoes this morning. Forgetfulness, no matter how adorable, isn’t cute when it comes to an exuberantly expensive smart phone. 

“What a waste.” I feigned interest, knowing for a fact that the Dokkaebi wouldn’t say any more than that. 

“I have.” Yongguk answered with a smile. A close-up, large, almost teasing smile. Mostly because he continued to do so, not saying a word more.

“Are you going to make me ask how it was or are you going to finish your statement?”

“Isn’t she cute when she gets all worked up?” Yongguk directed towards Himchan as he leaned forward, his thigh rubbing up against my knee. 

“The cutest!” Himchan nudged Zelo, who sat in front of him, trapping Youngjae and Daehyun in the middle and window seats respectively because he needed the aisle room to spread his long legs — quite the humble bragger we have on our hands. The young spirit woke up from the nap he was taking, basking in the sun’s rays because spirits aren’t affected by the weather. Lucky them, right? 

Clearly having no clue what we were talking about, he merely mimicked out loud, “The cutest!” without rhyme or reason.

“As much as I like compliments, I really am curious.” 

It’d been bugging me since I met up with Sehun two months ago.

“It’s all nutrients.”

“So what’d it taste like?”

“Like nutrients.”

“Stop messing with me.”

Never stop messing with me. 

Our banter is the highlight of my every moment of every day.

“Like healthy candy.”

“Healthy candy is the worst kind of candy.”

“Then my explanation has proved itself reasonable and concise.” He crossed his arms against his chest, leaning back into his seat again. He apparently deemed now the appropriate time to take a nap, even though spirits also don’t need naps, as he closed his eyes and began to hum a low beat to himself — is he trying to seduce me or does he already know he’s succeeded in doing so?

Stoping myself before I started to drool, I mouthed an “Ah.” Quite sad I don’t have much to look forward to in the exotic food department then. 

And I mean that quite literally.

I ignored the sideways glance Daehyun threw me from in front of me, effectively un-locking our eyes. Mostly because I wasn’t exactly ready to figure out what his intentions were just yet. I’m a single, inexperienced woman. I can’t handle having romantic feelings towards more than one person. I can’t set my mind to finding out what I think of the Tokebi when I’m still short of breath just sitting next to Bang Yongguk.

Lucky for me, I’m a good actress. 

I can pull off nonchalant touches and gestures like a skilled ninja. Or a warrior princess who, when she’s not secretly winning over the affections of a handful of men, wields her shrine-cleaning broomstick like a might axe ready to cut down all who stand in the way of her and a good night’s rest. 

I may have been spending too much time with Jongdae and Minseok.

Either way, the point is that I’m trying to avoid embarrassing myself and blowing my cover at all costs — the reason I rejected the look Daehyun gave me, and has been giving me, to sit down next to him whenever the opportunity arises.

That includes during every meal of the day. 

If I didn’t think Himchan was, at the very least, slightly charming, I wouldn’t be able to stand my new place between him and Jongup at the dinner table by now. Speaking of said polite Haechi, he suddenly asked from behind me, his finger poking at my shoulder and his voice whispering right beside my ear, “Miss Sora?”

“What’s up?” I flinched on reflex. Not because I was paying so much attention to Yongguk that I was completely and throughly distracted — though wouldn’t that be the best kind of distraction? No, rather because something else caught my eyes. 

Because someone else locked my eyes with his as the bus came to a full stop at the red light in front of a busy intersection. 

I almost didn’t see him there. I doubt I would have, frozen at the crosswalk where as he was, in fact, had I not seen him multiple times before. 

He just seemed so human. 

He had this kind of “freshly dead” air about him. 

Who?

“I was about to ask you a similar question, though you beat me to the punch.”

“Well, it’s nothing.” I waved away Jongup’s worries, settling into my own seat, wondering if I could get away with laying my head on Bang Yongguk’s shoulder. “Not right now, anyway.”

But it was something. It was something right now. Not later. Now.

You know, like today. 

Today, as soon as I got back home, washed up, and laid peacefully in the comfort between bed and sheet, there he was — that familiar face — tapping away at my window. The young, music-loving spirit boy whose large headphones securely covered his ears dwarfing his small face. 

He looked like a doe as I crawled over to him and opened the window, eyes sparkling black as he politely informed me of his name and gave me a short introduction of, “Hi, I’m Luhan. I’m dead.”

“Sora. Living,” I curtly responded.

“I know I almost killed you before—“

“That you did.”

“But I have a request to make.”

Well, me.

“Well, you’re here and I’m still breathing, so shoot.”

“Can you help me become a spirit?” 

“Sure, what kind?”

“That was easy.” He looked on at me where he floated outside my window, suspicions peaked with a set of pouting lips and wide eyes plastered perfectly onto his face.

“I was being sarcastic.”

I can already tell the two of us’ll hit it off, can’t you?

A/N: So, after wondering if I should add any other strong female characters to back up Sora (no spoilers on how will come from me directly),
I ended up with a nonchalant, slightly murderous Luhan. What's that? Something's wrong with my train of thought? But Luhan doe. Any argument you could have made is invalid.