Okay so for those who are curious, i'm gonna give you guise a hint.

The guy in the prologue ISN'T Joonie.

Read on to find out >:D

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She didn't want to go to sleep that night. She couldn't. Thoughts were tumbling around in her head, all mixed up. But she was also afraid of what she would dream. Hyomin was tired of waking every morning with a headache and the kind of fatigue she used to get on cross-country runs at school.

Hyomin propped myself up her pillows and watched the not-quite-full moon as it sat, serene, in the sky. A clear night, the tops of the trees just visible through the window. She shivered, realising that the window was slightly open, and got out of bed to shut it.

As she approached the ledge a sound -- the sound of boots on snow -- stopped her dead. Dad?

Putting one hand to her chest she tiptoed over and reached out to pull the window closed, but before she could a voice came, clear, from outside.

"Hyomin."

Heart thumping, Hyomin leaned forward and looked down.

He was there, dressed in a black coat, long enough to reach his ankles. Dark brown hair flopping over his face. He was beyond good-looking, with an interesting face. Fine-boned, pale. Though even from this distance she could see his eyes were extraordinary, large and kind of almond-shaped. The colour was like moss on a pebble in a stream.

"I came to find you today." His voice was surprisingly deep, assured.

"You called my name," She heard herself say. "And then you disappeared."

He smiled. "I saw your sister. I wanted to see you alone."

Hyomin leaned further out of the window. "This is a dream too, then. It must be."

"Is it?" He stepped back quietly. "How do you know?"

She gave a short laugh. "Because in my waking life I don't get visited by strangers in the middle of the night."

"And what about today?" He said. "When I called your name. Was that a dream?"

"No," She bit her lip. "I don't know. I could have imagined it."

There was a silence. He regarded her seriously.

"Okay." Resting her elbows on the window ledge, she put her face in her hands. "There is something familiar about you."

He laughed. "Tell me my name."

"Jaejoong," She said without thinking.

"See." He hugged himself. "You do know me."

"I don't know how. Why is this happening?"

"Don't look for logical answers." He pushed his hands deeper in his pockets. "It won't make sense, any of it. But it will, in time. You'll see."

"Wait there." She stepped back from the window and grabbed her socks and boots and the thick woollen poncho that belonged to her grandmother. Passing the wadrobe mirror she grimaced at her bizarre reflection before moving to the staircase and down to the back door.

He was standing right in front of her when she opened it.

"Nice poncho," He tugged at the fringe.

Hyomin stepped outside, pulling the door nearly shut behind her.

"Look," She whispered. "I don't know who you are. I just know I'm tired of dreaming about you." She glared at him. "I don't need this."

He said nothing, but leaned forward and put his arms around her, holding her gently in the moonlight. She didn't try and stop him, or pull away. It felt right somehow. He smelled of wood, a little smoky. He was warm.

"It's so good to be with you at last," he said, his head resting against her's. Though she thought she should struggle or scream, Hyomin only felt soothed and comfortable. She let him hold her for a minute longer before putting her arms around him. He was slender but solid.

Jaejoong leaned back and took her head in his hands. "Do you think you can stretch the boundaries of your reality?"

"What?"

"Well," He paused. "Imagine for a moment that the world you know is not the only one."

She rolled her eyes, pulling away from him. "Listen, Gandalf, I'm not into parallel worlds and all that supernatural bull. If this is some kind of joke--"

Hyomin wondered suddenly whether this was some prank of Hyuna's. She must have been so bored this past year with no one to torment. Was this Stage Two of her plan to break her for good?

As they stood, something scratched at the door behind her and Bobby's head pushed through her legs, sniffing at the ground. Hyomin put one hand down to his silkiness but a rough predatory growl stopped her. Bobby was crouching back on his hind legs, staring up at Jaejoong, snarling, teeth bared.

"Easy." She bent to be level with the dog. "What's up, boy?"

But Bobby continued to growl and he was shaking too.

She looked up at Jaejoong, who had stepped back. "It's okay," she told him. "He really won't hurt you."

"He wants to," Jaejoong said, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Hyomin rubbed the dog's soft ears. "Bobby's not like that. He's a friendly dog, aren't you, boy?"

"No, I mean ..." Jaejoong hesitated. "He can sense that I'm ..." He stopped, swallowing. "I'm not from here."

"Me and him both," She said dryly. "Because you're not."

Jaejoong looked up at the sky, up at the almost-perfectly-round moon. "I want to tell you all about me, but you don't trust me yet and it will sound ... ridiculous," he said. "I wish there was more time. Tomorrow I ..."

"Tomorrow you what?"

Hyomin got to her feet and moved towards him, Bobby still whining behind her.

Jaejoong reached out to take hold of her hands but then stopped, putting his back in his pockets. "You won't understand. It will scare you."

"Like you're not scaring me now?"

"Is that really how you feel?" He asked. "Scared?"

She realised she felt nothing but calm, which in itself was worrying.

"No. This is just a dream. Like the others ..."

"Or does it feel as though it's really happening?" Jaejoong stared at her, unblinking.

She held his eye.

"It feels ... real." She answered, eventually.

"Then it is," he said simply. "That scratch on your face. You got that in a dream?"

She swallowed. She knew where she had got it.

"You have nothing to fear. Not from me," he said softly. "I would never hurt you."

"I know," she whispered, because somehow she did.

And then she felt his lips on her forehead, the softest kiss, and the smell of him. It made her want to nestle against his body and she felt her own responding. Hyomin lifted her head to meet his lips, suddenly knowing what to do, and what she wanted, but he remained still, sad-eyed now.

"We are friends," he said, touching the wound on her face. Then he took her and and twined his fingers through her's.

Hyomin closed her eyes, weary all of a sudden and muddled.

"Joon," she said, "what do you want?"

Her eyes snapped open as Jaejoong jerked away from her. When he spoke his voice was a little hostile.

"Who's Joon?"

The next day she felt shattered. She spent as long as she could lying in bed, before her mother's angry clattering downstairs forced her to get up and dressed.

Another fashion triumph, she told herself as she studied my reflection in the wadrobe mirror. Combat trousers, so old the knee was ripped and the belt hooks had gone. A thick, striped, wool jumper her dad's mum had knitted Hyomin before she died two years ago. And on her feet, the slipper-socks she'd got for Christmas last year.

Her hair had grown long and was probably the best thing about her. She pulled it down, wondering what it would look like straight and sleek. She should actually started doing something about her appearance. Two mysterious boys had suddenly appeared on the scene. The least she could do was make herself more presentable.

Hyomin's pov.

Mum's eyes slid down to my snug jumper. "You should give that to Hwayoung," she said, staring at my chest which, like my hair, had grown some over the past few months.

"We need to get you some new clothes, you're getting bigger." My mother flapped out a tea towel and folded it over the handle on the oven door.

"A proper bra," She had her back to me, so she didn't see my eyes rolling up at the ceiling. "You need more than a vest these days."

"Fine," I said without interest. I pulled out a chair, pouring cereal into a bowl.

Mum stopped pottering and stood watching me as I ate.

"You went outside last night again?" She gripped the back of a chair with her hands. "I heard you, talking to yourself."

I swallowed a mouthful of cereal before answering. "I don't remember."

My mother sat down opposite me. "It's not good. It's unsettling us all."

"Really?" I hadn't noticed Hwayoung or my father being remotely bothered. Just her.

"Do you not remember anything, Hyomin?" she said, rubbing at a spot on the table. "Nothing at all?"

"No," I said firmly. As if she would believe me if I did tell her. "Nothing."

"Look at you, you look exhausted. I think we need to take you to the doctor ..."

"There's nothing wrong with me. It's just a phase or something ..." I pushed my bowl away. "Why are you getting so worked up about it?"

"I worry about you , sweetheart," she said, softly now. "You're growing up, and things are changing -- you know, with your body. Hormones ..." She trailed off awkwardly.

"So, that's the explaination. It's just me being hormonal." I smiled falsely. "And then they'll settle down and everything will be fine."

"Maybe." But her face was anxious. "Perhaps that is all it is."

I glanced out of the window, hearing Appa and Hwayoung chatting outside. "Am i free to go outside now?" I asked in a dry tone. "Or will that upset you, too?"

"Go on ..." She got up and watched me as I went to get my hiking boots from the hall.

As I opened the back door I glanced at her observing me, fearfully almost. And I felt a twinge of guilt. I was being a brat.

"I'll be fine, Mum," I told her softly. "Don't worry."

"Bobby, what is it with you?" I said, pushing him off my lap as I sat in front of my computer. "You won't leave me alone today."

It was four in the afternoon and I had finally got down to homework, or 'work', since I didn't actually go to school. I'd been assigned the Tudors as my History topic by my mother for this term. Normally I loved History, for me it was like escaping into another world, discovering a life I could hardly imagine.

But today i wasn't concentrating, even though i was desperate for a diversion. What had happened to me last night was, for the first time, clear in practically every detail. No wonder the antics of Henry and his poor wives had lost interest for me. My own life had taken on a whole new and unsettling dimension. I wondered briefly if I had some kind of mental disorder, something that had lain dormant for years until now. I was seeing things that weren't there, imagining brown-eyed boys singling me out for nocturnal visits.

It would make sense, I thought, to invent a situation that would never happen. Never happen to me, anyway.

Bobby gave me his most winning look and pawed my leg. "Hwayoung!" I called. "Take the dog out, would you? He's all over me."

Hwayoung appeared in the doorway. "Here, boy ..." She bent down and opened her arms out to embrace the dog, but he remained, indifferent, beside me.

"Silly dog." She straightened up and walked over to look at my screen. "Ugh. History homework. Poor unnie." She put her arm around my shoulders, and I turned my face up to hers and smiled.

"Your scratch has gone," she said, touching the place where it had been.

I put my hand up and felt only smooth skin.

"Unnie, you look like you've seen a ghost or something."

Not a ghost, I thought, calmly. But something just as unreal.

"Anyways, Eomma wants you to go with Appa to the shops before they shut. She's run out of 'ladies things'. He's leaving right now."

On cue, we both heard the sound of Appa starting the engine in his truck. I looked down at my combats and dolly jumper. "I need to change," I told Hwayoung, shutting down the computer. "Tell Appa five minutes."

"You're changing to go to the shops with Appa?" Hwayoung raised an eyebrow.

"So? I can't go out like this."

Hwayoung twirled maddeningly around the chair then abruptly stopped. "Put on a skirt. You might bump into you-know-who ..."

Joon. I had almost forgotten about him. Boys are obviously like buses -- just when you've given up waiting, two of them come round the corner.

"Forget it," I told Hwayoung as I walked towards the stairs. "And I don't even have a skirt."

"Borrow one of Eomma's," my sister called as I climbed up to my bedroom. "She won't mind ..."

I huffed as I threw sweatshirts, shorts, jeans and leggings out of my drawers. It was true. I didn't have a single item of feminine clothing. The only girly thing about me was my hair. Thick, brown and unfashionably curly. I studied my face in the wardrobe mirror. My eyes were OK, big and a dark brown-black colour, but my skin was a nightmare. Pale and sickly. There was no hope for me.

"Hyomin, hurry up," called Appa from outside. "What are you doing up there?"

Quickly I put on a little eyeliner I'd stolen from Mum once. It was an improvement, I realised as I checked out my eyes in the mirror. I rubbed in a dab of red lipstick to give my cheeks some colours. Then I ran my fingers through my hair, which at least was glossy. What do you think you're doing? I asked myself. Joon can't possibly be interested in you.

Still, I carefully chose my newest, dark, straight-legged jeans and a T-shirt that usually made me self-conscious because it was too tight over my chest, but today I somehow didn't mind. I cast around the room to find something warm to put over it. My eyes fell on the poncho on my chair. I'd take it off if I saw Joon, i told myself.

Even if it meant freezing to death.

Stop it. You're not going to see him.

My dad tooted his horn loudly.

"Okay, okay." I moved towards the rumpled poncho and pulled it over my head. "I'm coming."

I had the strangest feeling as I pulled it down, a feeling of foreboding, Out of the window, I could see my father waiting patiently by the truck. I smiled, trying to shrug off dark thoughts. I always loved going places with my dad. He'd turn on the radio and sing, and I'd always feign embarrassment. Secretly, though, I loved him singing as we drove. It made me feel safe, protected.

Dad looked up at my window and waved.

"You look beautiful, Hyomin." he said. "Now hurry up or your mother will make both of our lives miserable."

I grabbed my purse and ran down the stairs, foreboding gone.

Almost.

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*jengjengjennngg*

Comments, jusaeyo ♥