"Angie," he says.

"Wait, how do you know my name?"

Namjoon tells her she said it when she was talking to herself.

'Yea, I talk to myself,' she thinks. 'But in my head, not out loud.'

So she tells him she did no such thing. This time it's him who scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion. "But you did!" He insists. "You said - and I quote you directly here - ‘Stop it, Angie! Will you wake up?! He's gone. He's gone’,” he reenacts in a high-pitched voice.

Something clicks in her head and all of the sudden, she lets out a pained scream as her temples begin to throb again. She falls to the ground, clutching her head. She bites her lip to hold back another scream as she feels the wound on her thigh throbbing from the impact of hitting the ground. He notices her agony. “What"s wrong? Is your head hurting? Do you need any medication?”

She shakes her head in response when what she actually wants to do is slap him across the face to shut him up. The idiot is making her head hurt even more with his blabbering. Angie gets up and he offers his hand to help steady her. “Thank you Mr...?” she says, suddenly noticing that she still does not know what his name is. "Namjoon.. Kim Namjoon. But don't call me Mr. Kim; I'm only 20. Don't make me feel any older," he says. She smiles and nods saying, "Well then thank you, Namjoon-ssi."

The two continue walking, Namjoon glancing at her from the corner of his eye, wondering if he should bring up the situation earlier. What was that about? Why did she suddenly scream when he recounted what she had said to herself earlier? He decides to leave it. Besides, she seemed fine now. It was probably best not to pry.

"So. How are we getting to the train station?" He asks. She laughs. "We're walking, of course. I ain't got enough on me for a bus ticket. Unless you don't mind me busking for a while longer," she answers. He whines saying that the walk would take more than half an hour. She shrugs dismissively. He continues to groan and moan and when she turns around to tell him to stop being such a whiny 7-year-old, she finds that he's on the phone. "Ok, see you in five," he says as he hangs up. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"My friend's coming over to lend us his bike. Let's go have lunch first. I don't wanna starve on the train," he says. Angie narrows her eyes at him for what seems to be the millionth time. Who the heck does this kid - okay, he's older than me by two years, but he has the brain of a 10-year-old - think he is?

"You're not changing my plans so freely, mister," she tells him sternly. Namjoon rationalises with her that getting to the station by bike would be much faster than on foot and they would also have the time to fill their hungry stomachs.

"I'm not even hungr-" she begins to protest but her stomach growls loudly. He smirks and lets out a snigger. He looks at her mockingly, as though saying, "really, now? Not hungry?" She rolls her eyes at him and stomps to the food stall at the side of the road. He catches up with her and orders two plates of tokbukki. He pays the friendly store owner who suddenly gasps when she looks at his face. Namjoon puts a finger to his lips and mouths "please" to the lady. She nods in understanding and turns to Angie.

"Yeojachinggu?" She asked. Whoaaa slow down there lady.

"No, I am not his girlfriend," she replies as she waves her hands, insisting on her point. Namjoon notices her reaction and puts his arm around her shoulder.

"She's shy," he tells the lady, making Angie's mouth drop open. What the hell is this dude playing? She kicks his shin and he whimpers in pain. "See? So playful," he tells the lady with a strained voice as a result of the pain. Angie pulls a wide grin at the lady. "Ignore him," she advices her. The store owner smiles and walks away to greet another customer, but not before Angie hears her sigh and say, "ah, young love. How beautiful." Man, am I going to get back at him for this.

Angie turns to look at him sharply but is surprised to still see him rubbing his shin. "Quite a kick, you got there, huh?" She softens and pokes around at her food. "Sorry..." she mumbles softly. "What?" He asks, raising a mischievous eyebrow as he flashes his dimple again. "I said sorry, okay? Just accept it before I take it back you idiot," she says grumpily. He frowns and tells her it's not nice to call your elders idiots. She tells him two years is not a long time so he should get over himself. He pouts like a kid and says, "and I still don't hear a thank you for the food."

"How much do I owe you?"

"You owe me a thank you,"

"Thank you isn't a valid currency,"

"It is in my world,"

"Fine, thank you then,"

"That was so insincere,"

"Thank you so so so very much how will I ever repay your kindness?"

"You could've just said a simple 'thanks'," he says. She punches him in the shoulder then the sound of a horn interrupts their conversation. Angie turns around and whistles. "Now that one's a beauty," she says, mostly to herself. Namjoon looks at her incredulously.

"You can't even see the dude's face under that helmet and you're saying he's hot?!"

"Not him, you idiot. His ride," she replies. Namjoon heaves a sigh of relief, and Angie can only wonder why. The rider walks over and does a handshake with Namjoon. So this is his friend. The short man clad in leather turns around to face her. "Jimin," he says as he holds out his hand. She shakes it firmly. "Angie. Pleasure to meet you." He flashes her a killer grin, but her eyes are looking somewhere else. "Sweet ride you got there. 1987," she says. Jimin's face lights up in surprise and appreciation.

"You know Harley?"

“Bro, ‘know’ is an insult."

He seems a bit surprised to have met a girl that even knows what the word ‘Harley’ means. Of course, the Harley-Davidson brand has always been a huge part of Angie's life since both her father and her grandfather were Harley enthusiasts.

She walks over to the bike, circling it and admiring it the way any motorcycle enthusiast would. She looks over at Jimin and gives him the thumbs up. This one was in tip-top condition. He laughs and throws her the keys. “I haven’t gotten my license yet,” she says, rather dejected as she throws the keys back at him. He passes them to Namjoon and says, “take good care of my baby. I’ll take her back later today.” Jimin takes off his helmet and passes it to Namjoon. Then he puts on a pair of shades and a mask and jogs away. What was with that?

“Ya know, I’ve been wondering,” Angie begins as Namjoon walks over. “Are you, and the bloke that just gave us this sub-zero-supremely-cool ride, some kinda superstars or something?” she asks, even though it was quite obvious from all the previous occurrences. Namjoon nods, rather shyly. Angie grins and he looks up and sees the mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘Don’t you dare...’ he mouths. She opens and yells, “EVERYONE! KIM YU-” he covers with his gloved hand immediately.

She laughs and hops onto the back of the bike, sticking her tongue out at him. “It’s not funny,” he says. Suddenly all Mr. Serious, huh? That’ll teach you to make fun of me again. She holds on to his shoulders as he starts the engine. “You can hold my waist, you know?” he says as he passes her a helmet. She shakes her head no as she straps it on. Shoulders feel more secure. He simply shrugs and takes off.

A while later, soft thump is felt at his back and he jumps slightly, shocked. The road is clear so he dares to peek back a little. A small smile finds its way to his lips at what he sees. She must be really exhausted since she fell asleep in less than 3 minutes since the beginning of the ride. Namjoon realises that her hands are no longer on his shoulders and are instead laying limpy at her sides. His eyes widen, alarmed. He pulls to the side of the road immediately and stops the motor. He gently takes her hands from her sides and puts them securely around his waist. He looks at her face, how adorable she looks with her cheek pressed against his back. He chuckles to himself and begins driving again.

-

"Rise and shine, sleepy head. We're here," he says as he taps her hands that are still tightly wrapped around his waist. Somewhere in her sleepy head she must've thought that Namjoon's waist was a pillow, so she snuggled up a little closer. Not that Namjoon minded, though. He was perrrrfectly fine with it. She continues to sleep, blocking out any external noises. She begins to wonder why her pillow seems a bit hard, though. She pokes his belly and Namjoon laughs, "hey, don't do that! I'm ticklish!" He says and she yells, suddenly wide awake. He turns and looks at her, she has the cutest little shocked expression on her face. He clamps his lips together to stop himself from laughing.

Angie's face reddens a little and she plays around with her hands. Namjoon gets off the bike and pockets the key. He looks over at Angie whose face is flushed by now. "Are you alright? You look like the fever's back," he says, concerned. He steps towards her and puts a hand to her forehead. She shies away quickly. "You sure you're okay?" He asks again. She nods her head furiously, unable to even utter a word in her embarrassment.

"Sheesh. Your hair is all over the place," Namjoon tells her. She looks in the small mirror of the motorcycle. It's true. Sleeping on a moving bike does the worst things to your hair. She tries to set her hair straight, much unsuccessfully. Suddenly, Namjoon pulls her face to face him and he gently brushes her hair back with his fingers. After about a minute of fiddling around with her dark locks, he pulls back to inspect his work. He nods in content but then his eyebrows furrow again.

"Are you sure you're not having a fever?"

Angie gets up and walks to the ticket booth in reply, not wanting to acknowledge the real reason why her face was so hot. And definitely not wanting Namjoon to know either. It was the first time someone other than her mother had done her hair for her. The first time she was ever in such close proximity to someone. She tells herself that the reason her heart is beating so fast is because her medication hasn't worn off. But she knows she is lying to herself.

They manage to catch the train 10 minutes after reaching the station. Angie sits down by the window as Namjoon places her belongings on the baggage rack above their seats. Just as he is about to take the seat in front of her, an old lady barges in and fully occupies the spot with her large physique and multiple bags. Namjoon nods politely at the woman but Angie knows he is annoyed by the way his hands are clenched into fists and she can see the vessels popping out of his neck as they tense up. She leans on the window as he takes the seat beside her.

Her eyelids begin to droop due to her lassitude. She nods off to sleep several times but is continuously jolted awake whenever her head rolls off the back of her seat and hits the window. Someone clear his throat and Angie turns to look at Namjoon. He taps his shoulder shyly, telling her it's fine if she wants to take a rest. She smiles but declines his offer and looks out the window.

Namjoon pushes her head onto his shoulder gently, but firmly. Angie's eyes widen in her shock. "I don't want you getting a concussion from hitting the window. Not on my watch," he insists. She nods in silence and thanks God that her hair is shielding her face from his view because her cheeks are beginning to burn. Why am I getting so nervous? she thinks, then dismisses it as merely the reaction her body is having towards the sudden skinship. But when her heart rate doesn't slow down after 15 minutes, a lump of fear forms inside of . No, it can't be. I can't fall.

Why? Because falling hurts. It doesn't just hurt you. It hurts the other party as well. Angie doesn't want to be hurt. Nor does she want to inflict pain either. I don't want to fall. She learned the hard way just how bad the consequences of falling can be. She closes her eyes and tries to fall asleep. Then he speaks. "Who is he? This person that you say is so dangerous?" That's all it takes. Angie's head erupts in pain once more.

She pushes herself off Namjoon's shoulder and her face scrunches up as she groans loudly. Angie turns to him, eyes wide, borderlining on hysteria. "My journal," she says as she grabs his arm. "My journal. Read it. It'll explain. But you can't let me know you have it..otherwise I'll take it away from you. I know I'm not making sense but please just listen." Her grip on his arm weakens all of the sudden and she leans back in her chair as if her sudden actions all the energy right out of her.

"Read my journal but don't let me see you reading it. Don't.. let me..see you.." she begins to nod off to sleep again. "No.. don't let me fall asleep... I'll have another relapse," she mumbles tiredly seconds before her head lolls back to sleep on Namjoon's shoulder. The fat lady in front of them is staring as though she just watched a crazy man on rampage. Namjoon rolls his eyes at her. Who was she to judge? Although he has to admit that what just happened was pretty freaky.

Namjoon waits for half an hour before he is sure that Angie's asleep. He carries her head off his shoulder, careful not to wake her up. He pulls her bag from the baggage compartment and digs around until he finds her journal. He opens up the book and begins sifting through the pages.

Namjoon glances up to find the middle-aged woman bent over, trying to catch a glimpse of the words written on the pieces of paper. He retracts further into his seat, like a child unwilling to share his ice-cream. As he continues to read, he finds that he is slowly getting to know her better. It may sound crazy, but those mere scribbles on parchment are opening his eyes to see her many colours. Not all of them are beautiful, but they are all distinctly her. And for that reason alone, they are beautiful to him.

She is so intriguing, even in writing. There is always something new about her to discover. He looks at her sleeping figure as a smile spreads across his face. Namjoon shakes his head to clear it. Why does he keep smiling whenever he looks at her? He should be freaked out of his wits by now but why is he probing further, willingly? It's no longer his mother's orders or his curiosity that's pushing him forward. It's this unknown emotion, slowly spurring him along, daring him to venture deeper into the forest of mystery that this girl is. Namjoon snaps out of it and quickly turns back to the journal.

His fingers stop flipping at an entry that was written about 2 weeks back.

22nd of April. 3am.

I can't sleep. My thoughts are haunting me. Her last moments are still vivid in my mind… As I held her cold hands… If only I had the time to make more happy memories that we could share. To spend the time we had together more usefully. If only I had enough time to tell her how much I love her (Not loved. I love her present tense. And I always will.)… All I ask for is one more day… If I have just one day, it’s possible. But it’s not. There’s no way to bring back the dead. The dead are gone. And there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with someone leaving this Earth. It is a predestined matter. I know it to be such. But that doesn’t change how hard it is to ignore this gnawing emptiness. The vacancy in the hearts of a deceased's beloved… will never be filled. It can only be beautified as time passes. Until the emptiness no longer brings you sorrow. And instead, it defines you. It shapes the person you become in the future. And I would be fine knowing as such. I am fine knowing that any type of death is predestined. Even so, when the person you love leaves in such a way… no one can understand the pain. No one but those that have experienced losing a beloved in that way. No one.

No one.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrow in confusion. Just how did her mother die? He looks at her backpack that lays open in his lap. He stares at it long and hard, as if the remains of her mother might be able to tell him something, to shed some light in this forest in which he treks. This forest that seems to be engulfed in the perpetual darkness of mystery.

He turns to the next page and find that a large 'X' has been drawn from each end of the paper. On the right page there are words written in bold letters, as if the person who wrote those words was in frustration. "Get over it," they say, "stop this craziness. There's no way that he can come after you. He's locked behind bars. So stop being this way. Please."

What is driving Namjoon absolutely crazy is this: it's her handwriting. All of it. Both the frustrated scribbles and the words under the big "X". It is as if she was talking to herself within those pages. He tries to read the words that have been cancelled out by that big cross.

I'm afraid. I see him everywhere. On the streets, on the subway, on the bus. But worst of all... in my dreams. He enters those bright realms and flips them around until they're nightmares. Now I'm too scared to even fall asleep. I'm-

Namjoon is pulled away from his intent reading session when someone smacks his head. Hard.

"Has no one ever taught you that going through other's  personal belongings is not polite?!" Angie yells as she snatches the journal away from Namjoon who recoils, taken aback. Does she remember nothing about giving me permission to read it? Namjoon is about to ask her this aloud but decides not to do so. Something about those recurring headaches and the words she said just before she fell asleep tells him that it's better to leave her be. Namjoon mumbles an apology  under his breath as she places the journal back in her backpack. She hugs the bag to her chest protectively and they sit in silence for the rest of the ride. And yes, that obese lady stares at them the whole way.

When they reach Busan, Angie passes a piece of paper with an address on it to Namjoon, telling him that since he is more familiar with Korean streets, he should be the one to lead the way. Namjoon rolls his eyes as he flags a taxi. In about 10 minutes, they arrive at a small apartment building. "Ladies first," says Namjoon as he ushers Angie into the lift. They reach the 4th storey and Angie consults the piece of paper once more before ringing the doorbell. A man opens the door, perhaps a few years older than Namjoon, and he stares at her in shock. The hint of stubble along his jawline and the dark circles under his eyes shows that he hasn't been at his best in the past few days.

"Angie, is that you? What are you doing here? I've been worried sick! Grandmom called to say you left; leaving nothing but a note," the man begins walking towards her, arms stretched out as if wanting to embrace her. "Do you have any idea how worried we-" he stops mid sentence as he looks closely at Angie. And that's when Namjoon notices that she's trembling, shaking her head with ferocity. She chokes on a yelp as she steps backwards, tripping and falling into Namjoon's arms. She yells properly this time, running to hide behind him and she clutches onto the back of his shirt with trembling hands. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screams at the man. Namjoon moves on impulse to shield her by spreading his arms out as he eyes the man warily.

The tall stranger looks confused at her reaction for a moment before a look of realisation dawns on him. "I'm sorry, I was just so glad to see you safe and sound that... I forgot. I forgot how much I look like him. Mum probably didn't have the chance to tell you," Angie peeks out a little at the mention of the word 'mum'.

"I'm... I'm your brother, Kris."