Chaerin awoke with a jolt, minutes before her alarm was set to go off. She threw her covers aside and bounded down the stairs to the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of ice cold water. She would be seeing Yoongi today—they were going to watch a screening of one of the top thrillers of the year. She had loved watching thrillers, despite not being a fan of some of the macabre scenes they showed.

She looked at her clock— it was only eight in the morning. Four hours until she saw Yoongi; four hours too long.  She had slept a restless sleep, turning side to side every five minutes. It had been like a reenactment of the many nights where she just lied awake in bed, completely defeated by her overdose on caffeine. Except this time around, it had been the deafening roar of her heart racing that had kept her awake.

She took a seat at the dining table and munched quietly on a stale piece of toast. She absentmindedly spread a layer of grape jelly on the toast. Was he already awake at this hour? Was he, perhaps, thinking about her just as much as she was thinking about him? Then she slapped both of her cheeks and shook her head, disciplining herself. It was far too early to think so much about a guy she just met. Sure, he was handsome. He was smart. He was tall. He had fair skin. He had a smile that made her heart spin in circles. And his laugh. Oh god, his laugh. It was insanely attractive. She slapped her cheeks again. Sure, he was all of those things. That didn’t mean she was in love. She placed her head onto the table and sighed. Right?

--

Yoongi parted the velvet curtains with a flick of his wrist to reveal a large, tall glass window. He stood in front of the window and gazed out, his hands clasped together behind him. Sheets of rain fell to the ground gracefully, like feathers detaching from the wings of an angel. The rain was Yoongi’s favorite type of weather. It purged the putrid emotions that he bottled up within and replaced them with peace and calm. Being haunted by all forms of death daily was no easy task—nor was it something he would ever get used to.

The clock ticked by in an excruciatingly slow manner.

He knew it was right to let her go. He knew he should’ve done so a long time ago. He knew he was putting her life on the line. Yet oddly, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. He wanted to be, just for this one sweet moment, selfish. And he knew it was wrong.

--

She waited outside the theater, one hand gripped firmly around the handle of a white umbrella. The rain continued to pour down steadily. She subtly looked around in an attempt to locate Yoongi. She frowned. Maybe coming thirty minutes early had not been a good idea after all. It was freezing. Then her phone blared loudly, rudely shattering the perfect melody of rain. She dug into her purse and produced her phone. Min Yoongi was calling her.

She took a deep breath and picked up.

“Hello?”

“You’re early.”

Her phone hung idly in her hand as she searched for him. Then her eyes settled on the unmistakable figure that stood under a black umbrella across the road. They gazed at each other in absolute silence, a barrier of rain the only thing between them.

A strange ache formed in her heart as she continued to look at the man. And before she knew it, her eyes were stinging with fresh tears. She laughed in absolute disbelief and wiped them away as he approached. When he finally reached her, he smiled at her. He was dressed entirely in black, a striking contrast to her white outfit.

“Shall we head inside?”

She answered with a hesitant nod. There was just something about him that she couldn’t quite decipher.

--

“I waited months to see this,” she chirped, clapping her hands together eagerly.

“I heard it’s the movie of the year.”  

“Movie of the year? More like movie of the century,” she corrected him with an excited whisper.   

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh. “I have high expectations now.”

She nodded enthusiastically and took a sip of soda. The lights dimmed and the room fell prey to darkness.  

“I hope it’s not too violent, though. Personally not a fan,” she muttered as she scrunched her nose in disgust.  

“I’m not a fan either,” he said with a sour chuckle.

--

All Yoongi had done within the past hour of the movie was admire Chaerin. Whenever she leaned over to point out a certain detail, he nodded and pretended like he knew exactly what she was talking about. Then she would fall silent—completely absorbed in the movie—only to repeat the process over and over again.

He wished time would stop like this.

Then he saw her shift uncomfortably in her seat. He faced the screen for what was probably the first time since the movie had begun and frowned. The protagonist was cornered, with his back pressed helplessly against the wall of a deserted alley. The serial killer inched closer, gripping a sharp knife in his hand. She flinched and turned away from the screen. He raised his hand in front of her eyes, shielding her from the violent scene.

“I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

“T-thank you.”

--

When the movie had come to an end, the rain had finally subsided. It was nightfall already.

“I’ll drive you home. I would’ve offered to pick you up earlier but I had an errand to run.”

“Oh—No, it’s fine. I live far.”

Yoongi smiled. “It’s on the way.” He motioned her to follow with a wave of his hand.

After a few minutes, they finally reached the parking lot. Yoongi’s car was a sporty Maybach painted a glossy black. The car seemed brand new as if he had just bought it. He opened the door for her and took his own place in the driver’s seat. He buckled his seat belt and the engine. He reversed the car out of the parking space and headed towards the exit.

“Aren’t you going to turn on the lights?” Chaerin remarked quizzically. “It’s pitch black outside. How can you see a thing?”

Yoongi pressed on the breaks suddenly, causing her head to hit the seat with a thump. He fumbled for the light switch.

“Sorry, I haven’t driven in a long time,” he apologized with a cheeky grin.

Chaerin leaned over and flipped a switch after a brief moment of inspection. The lights flickered on.

 “I’m kind of scared now,” she said with a laugh.

--

“Do you listen to music when you drive?”

He shook his head. “The only music I really listen to is piano.”

“Oh, do you play as well?” she asked, observing his long fingers that casually gripped the wheel.

“Mm. I used to when I was younger. I taught myself how to play.”

“I see. I used to play when I was little, too. I don’t really remember how I learned, though. Everything’s a blur.”

“It was my first love.”

She turned to face him. “The piano?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded sad, as if in longing.

The distinct details of the city dissolved into a blur of faint light as they continued to drive. They made small talk, each craving to know more and more about the other, yet too shy to be bold about it.

“You’re like an open book, Yoongi.”

He shifted his eyes off the road and faced her in subtle astonishment. “How so?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that the more I get to know you… The more I can guess what your answer to my next question will be.”

He turned his eyes back to focus on the road. “I guess we just click with each other.”

“Either that…” she trailed off momentarily, leaving her words hanging in the air. “Or we knew each other in our past lives.”

Yoongi tightened his grip on the wheel. Words lingered on the tip of his tongue, but they were better left unsaid. They turned the corner onto a darker, deserted road.  

“I was just kidding,” she said with an awkward laugh.

“Chaerin—” As soon as his words escaped his lips, a shiver ran up his spine.

He immediately slammed on the brakes and steered towards the side of the road, making the entire car swerve to a stop. Chaerin screamed. His throat went dry as he lifted his head slowly. His eyes darted back and forth anxiously, a sickening sensation gnawing away at his insides. Then he spotted the woman. She stood at the side of the road, a twisted grin plastered across her face. She was tall and lanky, as thin as a skeleton. Her bones seemed to jut out from her sides. Then she approached the car and walked right through the side doors before disappearing into thin air. It had only been a ghost.

He ripped his gaze away from the road and turned towards Chaerin. As soon as his gaze fell on her, he stopped breathing completely. The moonlight glistened on her skin, illuminating the red blood that trickled down the nape of her neck. Her head was against the broken window, her hair adorned with pieces of shattered glass. Her eyes were shut and hung ever so slightly open, as if she were about to call out his name.

“No,” he managed, his voice on the edge of insanity. “No… no. Chaerin. Wake up.” He was sobbing hysterically now. He shook her limp body and began to beg. “P-Please, don’t leave me. You’re all I have.”

Then he felt a sharp pull on his left arm.

“Yoongi! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!” Chaerin shook him hard, trying to get him to respond.

He blinked and shook his head. It had been his imagination. He took a deep breath.

“What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I just asked you those questions, silly,” she said with a sigh of relief. “You’re crying.”

“As long as you’re okay,” he breathed, grabbing her by the arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Yoongi. I’m fine. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head again, more slowly this time as he regained his composure.

“What happened? Why did you stop so suddenly?”

“I thought I saw something.”

“Yoongi, there was no one there.”

He furrowed his brows and gave a conflicted sigh.

“Sorry, my eyes were playing tricks on me.”