“Dammit!” Oliver swore, flinging his phone to the ground.  

You sat on the couch, looking straight ahead, trying to regulate your breathing, so that he couldn’t sense your fear.  Oliver only became more violent when he knew that you were afraid, or upset. 

“That was the damn shaman!” he growled.  “He has decided not to take the case.  He won’t give me a bloody reason why.”

You swallowed hard, inwardly thankful to Choi baksu.  

Oliver wiped his hands over his face, exhaling loudly, and long. When he spoke again, his voice was smooth “That’s alright.  That is just fine.  If you want something done right…”  He glanced at you.  “I’m going into the office.  Don’t wait up.”

***

Over the next few days, Oliver did his research at the office “where the ghost couldn’t see”, then came home, and applied what he had learned.  

First, it was red beans, Oliver having read that Korean ghosts were scared of the colour.  He scattered them across the entrances of the house.  It didn’t work.

Then, he borrowed from the indigenous northern tribes of the US, and smudged the house with sage.  It made you hungry for dressing and turkey, but that was about it.

Next, it was salt sprinkled in the corners of the rooms.  Aside from some displaced spiders seen skittering disgruntledly across the floor, nothing changed.

After that, he rubbed a raw egg, still in the shell, all over his body.  You secretly wondered if he was banishing ghosts, or making dinner.

***

You lay in his arms, the world covered in white as snow softly drifted down over you.  I think that I like this one best.

He had a hand buried in your hair as he lazily your scalp.  Oh?  Why?

The world enrobed in silent white.  Everything is new; everything is clean, pure.  I guess that this is technically the first snow of the year.  You heard him smile.

Do you know…what the first snowfall means?

You shook your head, and he laughed as your hair tickled his neck.  

Make a wish.

Really?

He nodded.

You closed your eyes.  I wish–

Shhh!  You can’t tell what it is, or it won’t come true.

You shifted back, and he looked down at you.  Looking into his warm, affectionate brown eyes, you silently wished.  Then, smiling, So the first snowfall grants wishes?

That’s not all.

No?

He shook his head, his eyes shining as he ran his gaze over your face.  If you’re with someone, and you confess, then you will stay together…for a long time.  He slid his hand out of your hair, to curl around your cheek.  I would like that.  I would like to stay with you…for a very long time.

His thumb caressed your cheek as he came closer, looking into your eyes.  Is this okay?

You raised your hand to his jaw, softly the dimple that appeared at your touch, lifted your face, and closed your eyes.

He drew closer.  

He tasted like love.

***

“Who is he?”

You froze as you were stirring the pot of stew, then slowly set down the ladle, and turned to Oliver.  “Who is whom?”

“Please, for once in your life, try not to act as stupid as you actually are.  Who’s the guy?”

“What guy?”

A long, loud, aggressively frustrated sigh.  “The guy that you’re cheating on me with.”

You struggled to keep your voice level.  “Oliver, you know my schedule.  You monitor the mileage on my car.  You have a tracking app installed on my phone.  You know where I am at all times.  How could I possibly cheat?”

“So, what you’re saying is that you would, you just don’t have the opportunity.”

“I don’t want to cheat on you, Oliver.  With whom could I even possibly cheat?”

“Don’t act like there aren’t male teachers at your school.”

“There are, but I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Why not?  They don’t make enough money for you?”

You tried a different tactic.  “What makes you think that I’m cheating on you?”

“You.  Everything about you.  I remember that look. That’s the way your eyes used to light up for me.  I still remember how you looked when you fell in love with me.”

“Oliver.  I promise you, that there is not a single, solitary living man on this earth that I love more than I love you.”

He came closer, crowding you against the stove.  “Now, why does that feel like a lie?” he murmured, leaning over you, forcing you to bend backward toward the boiling pot.  

“Oliver…” Your voice was tense, as you felt the steam brushing past your face.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he breathed, bringing up his hand to roughly take hold of your jaw. “Men are always looking at you, and it’s so bloody frustrating.  But you… you’re mine, baby, and I won’t let anyone else have you.”  He chuckled, the sound low and ugly.  “I wonder…if you’re not so beautiful, would they still want you?”  He wasn’t stopping.  

“Oliver!”  Panic was starting to claw at you, and you could no longer keep your voice at the perfectly modulated tone that he preferred.  

“Maybe if you were as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside, then you would finally realize how much you need me…”

“Oliver, no!”  With all of your strength, you shoved. He flew backwards, into the table, knocking it over as he fell from it, to the floor.

Silence reigned as you stared at his prone body, in paralyzed shock.  

Then, he growled, and started to drag himself up.  

Suddenly, you could move again, and you ran for the door.  Before you could make it, Oliver grabbed your ankle, and you fell to the ground with a bone-jarring thud.  Turning on your back, you kicked as he dragged himself up your body, grunting as he tried to control you.  Lifting your leg, you planted it on his shoulder, and knocked him backward, scrambling away, even as he flew into the stove.  He brought his hand directly down into the boiling pot of stew.

You had never heard anyone howl so loudly.

“You !” he shrieked, his voice pitched high.  

You ran for your room, figuring that you could lock him out and call the police.  

He was too fast.

Good hand buried in your hair, Oliver dragged your body back up against his, wrapping his still steaming hand around your throat.  You could see the both of you in the mirror over your dresser, and the sight of his scalded flesh peeling from the muscle in pallid strips made your gorge rise.  

Wrenching your head to the side, he brought his mouth down to your ear.  “This is all your fault,” he hissed.  He didn’t even sound human.  “You think that I haven’t noticed that none of this –” here he yanked your hair painfully, “–ever seems to happen to you?  Is it you, huh?  Are you doing this to me?”

Your voice trembled.  “How could I be doing any of this?!”

“Yeah, that sounds good, nice, neat, tidy, and logical, and yet here we are!”  By the end he was roaring, so loudly that you felt yourself go temporarily deaf in that ear.  “Well, guess what, baby, we’re going to get to the bottom of this–you and me…”  He looked up to catch your eyes in the mirror, and froze.  

Stiffening, you saw what had given him pause.  In the mirror above your dresser, his grey irises were black, as if his pupils had completely encompassed the grey.  His face was staring back, and it was just…wrong.  You had never seen anything so wrong in your entire life.  You whimpered.  

Slowly, his reflection smiled, a lazy…knowing…abhorrent smile that held absolutely no light.  That smile promised terrifying things, painful things, nightmarish, unthinkable things, and that smile was directed straight at Oliver.  In the mirror, his reflection removed its hand from your hair, slowly drew its thumb across Oliver’s throat, and opened its mouth.  The inside of was black as pitch, like an endless starless night, and black ichor started to pour out of the ever widening mouth, dripping down Oliver’s body in slowly increasing pulses to join with the weeping black slash that had opened across his neck.

That was it.

You felt yourself go flying toward the mirror, and when you hit the dresser, you heard Oliver’s steps pounding toward the door.  Tripping, sobbing, hiccuping, he scrambled on his hands and knees, crawling toward the door, wrenching it open, and hauling himself out.

The door clicked behind him, and it was silent.

Slowly, you rose from the dresser, terrified but determined.  You looked into the mirror.

There was nothing, but your own trembling reflection.

***

He held you tightly, arms and legs wrapped around your body as he slowly rocked you back and forth, crooning to you as if you were a baby.  

You couldn’t stop sobbing.

***

Oliver didn’t come back.  Not the next day, nor the day after that, nor the day after that.  You changed the door code.

***

I don’t understand how something like that could have ever been a part of you.  You’re so gentle, and kind.

He looked down, toying with a blade of grass.  He said nothing.

What would happen if it came back to you.  Would you change?  Would it take over?  Would you become that thing?  

He looked pained.  

Please don’t misunderstand–I’m grateful.  Terrifying as it was, it kept me alive.  Without it, I…you looked away.  

I don’t know, he said finally.  I don’t know. 

Sensing his unease, you curled up next to him, sliding your arm around his waist, and leaning your head on his shoulder.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make you sad.  Don’t fret–you’ll never have to worry about that.  I’m just babbling, trying to make sense of all of this.  You rubbed a hand up and down his arm, and then turned to place small kisses on his shoulder. 

He smiled, and closed his eyes.  

Cupping your hands around his face, you climbed onto your knees, and began giving him tiny smooches on his dimples, his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth, anywhere that you could reach.

His laugh was deep and delighted.  Yah!  That tickles!

Putting your hand in the center of his chest, you slowly pushed him back until he was lying on the soft moss, in the middle of the sunlit forest that he had created for you, today.  Smiling, you climbed over him, watching his expression for any reticence.

His eyes were wide and innocent as he looked up at you.  

Slowly, you lowered your mouth to his, pouring all of your feelings into the kiss.  

When you had finished, he smiled against your mouth.  

I love you.

***

When you came home from school the next night, the door was ajar.  Silently, you backed away, reaching into your purse for your phone.  Turning, you bumped into something.  A sharp prick stung the side of your neck, and then, nothing.

***

When you awoke, you were tied to a chair.  Looking around, you saw that you were in the living room, which had been cleared of furniture, save for the small end table, which had been moved to the corner, and was covered in odds and ends.  Unidentifiable symbols and shapes had been painted on the floor around you, on the walls, and as you looked down, on your skin.  Your skin.  A sharp, staccato step echoed, and you looked up to see Oliver, slowly walking toward you.

Contrary to what you might have thought…he looked good.  Aside from the bandage on his hand, and the bulk from the cast under the sleeve of his suit, he looked as impeccable as ever.  

You said nothing.

He walked over, and crouched before you, gently brushing the hair back from your face.  “Hi, baby.  What’s wrong?”  He shook his head.  “You don’t look happy to see me.”

“Oliver…”  your voice was so quiet that he had to lean closer to hear you.  “What are you doing?”

“You love me, don’t you, baby?”  

You swallowed hard.  When you spoke, your voice was hushed, but steady.  “Of course, Oliver.