On May 17^th, eight minutes before the clock strikes midnight, Hoya signs a deal with Lucifer.

He doesn’t really have a clue of what he’s doing, nor does he care about the consequences of his actions. Just like most teenagers signing up for social network accounts, he just skims through the terms and conditions without actually reading it properly. All he knows is the fact that he misses her, and for him that’s enough a reason to even jump off a cliff for.

He closes his eyes and imagines her there, and when he opens his eyes, she’s there sitting right across the table gazing at him with that pretty smile of hers.

“Long time no see, Mr Hoya,” she says. “Did you miss me?”

He scrutinizes her every detail, making sure that he doesn’t miss out any part just to confirm that she’s really her. That she is the one that he loves, whom he misses dearly, whose name he calls out at night. That she’s the same Bomi. Beautiful, yet bizarre Bomi ― his Bomi. His lips stretch into a satisfactory smile. “Very much.”

Twenty minutes past one in the morning, they find themselves being sandwiched amongst a massive throng of citizen from all ranges of age. Loud chart topping music are blaring out from the speakers, the stall vendors yelling out their so-called tonight only promotions, and conversations between the people fill the air, making the weather somewhat warmer.

Hoya holds Bomi’s hand tight in his as if his whole life is depending on it, afraid of losing her in the midst of the faceless people. When a random stranger appears out of nowhere and crashes into them, causing her hand to slip away from his grip, the colours of his face drain out and he could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a brief minute.

But Bomi is quick to slip her hand into his again. Feeling her reassuring squeeze, his frantic look turns calm. "I’m here,” she told him, then tilts her head at one side and crinkles her nose. “And hungry.”

He laughs and pulls her to one of the stalls selling snacks. She points at a particular French fries hotdog, while he hands the lady money enough for an extra stick.

They wander off to the quieter streets where there are less people, passing shops after shops and neon coloured signboards meant to attract customers but ended up half lit and abandoned, looking just exhausted as the shopkeepers themselves.

They enter an empty bookstore just as small as their apartment which is covered in mostly secondhand books from ceiling to floor. Hoya breathes in the nostalgic smell of the old books, some even older than he is, and looks at Bomi as they roam around the shelves.

She picks up a random book, turns a few pages and reads the sentences she likes out loud, and lets out a chuckle before setting it back in its place.

“Bomi.”

She looks up from the fiction she’s holding to the reality in front of her. “Hmm?”

He shakes his head and grins, feeling a little embarrassed. “Just felt like calling your name.”

She smiles at him. “I miss you too.”

At three in the morning, the two of them take a shelter from the sudden downpour at a bus stop, each wearing a plastic bag over their head ― her ridiculous idea of self-protection.

Ten minutes fly by without a single vehicle passing by. Hoya studies their surroundings, and only accompanied by the faint glow of the street lamp with broken glass, he comes to a conclusion. “I think this is an abandoned bus stop.”

“I think so too,” Bomi agrees, noticing the absence of bus schedules board.

“What do we do now?”

She gives him knowing look, and with a mischievous grin gracing her lips, she jumps off the seat and skips over to a puddle by the road before kicking the water towards him. He stares at her in shock while she just stands there in the rain, already soaked herself, challenging him to join her in the fight. He accepts her dare and starts making a splash towards her using his foot.

A while later, breathless and dripping wet, they begin to get tired and resort back to their respective seats. They glance at each other, and upon realizing how silly they appear to be with their clothes sticking to their skin and hair all over the place, they burst into giggles.

Then they wait a bit more for the bus that will never come until the rain halts down.

Somewhere before the dawn breaks and a new day officially arrives, they take a stroll down the park which is almost deserted except for several joggers doing their morning routines. Some brought their dogs along, and Bomi plays with them when their owners allow her to.

“Should we get a dog?” he asks, seeing how delighted she is playing with her favourite animal.

“But you’re bad with dogs,” she returns. “How are you going to handle it when I’m gone?”

They fall into a silence and resume their walk. The sun is rising anytime soon, so they sit on a bench facing the cityscape. Birds are leaving the nests in search of what the morning has to offer, beautifying the day with the songs while doing so.

They keep waiting for the sunrise, but when the day clears up almost all of a sudden, Hoya and Bomi realize their mistake and laugh. They are facing the wrong way.

Their stomachs begin to growl soon after, therefore at seven he brought Bomi to a restaurant that belongs to his old friend’s family for breakfast. She greets them with a bright smile and him with a hug.

“How long has it been?” asks Nara with her big round eyes while she ushers them to a table enthusiastically.

“Since high school, I guess,” he replies.

“You should’ve come to the reunion last year.”

Hoya shrugs nonchalantly and avoids her gaze. “Something came up.”

“Always that excuse.” Nara smiles at both of them and leaves after taking their orders.

“Your ex-girlfriend?” Bomi questions, in which he answers with a nod. “Pretty.”

He chuckles at her pout. “You’re prettier,” he says, then adds, “Weirder, too.”

She punches him on the shoulder. “And stronger.”

“Stronger, indeed.”

At nine, they decide to make things a little difficult for people going to work.

They head to the train station where it’s crammed with people mostly in suits, and queue up separately to buy tickets that will reach the very end of the railway. Afterwards they race with the others to get in, clamour out at the next stop, and rush back in when the next train arrive.

Finding themselves squished together and almost gasping for oxygen, they giggle at each other like two kids without a care for the world. They repeat the whole routine until the train is no longer packed and they get bored with their little game.

When the clock strikes noon, they are standing on top of Building 63.

The sky that stretches out till eternity above them with clouds that resemble cotton candy, and half the chilliness from early that morning is swept away by the comforting warmth by the brilliant sun. Standing behind the safety net, they close their eyes and extend their arms, pretending to be flying along with the wind. There isn’t anyone around, anyway.

Then they locked their hearts together there in the form of a gigantic purple coloured bicycle lock, so that theirs would stand out from the rest, with their names and timeless wishes written on it.

At two in the afternoon, they sit by the window of a convenience store and make up stories for each passerby as they wait for their noodles to be ready.

Fifteen minutes after three, they walk by shops after shops and stop in front of one particular store. Hoya enters with Bomi following behind, and with the keeper’s permission he plays her his favourite piece that reminds him of both spring the season and the spring in his heart.

They pass by an old looking photo-processing store later. Knowing that they have the same idea in mind even without saying it out loud, they push door open, causing the small bells dangled on the knob to ring. An old man looks up from a photo album on the table in front of him.

“Can you take a picture of us?” Hoya asks.

“Of course,” the old man smiles. The corners of his eyes wrinkle up. “What a lovely couple you are.”

“It’s our last picture though.”

“Really? What a shame.”

Hoya keeps the photo in his wallet, and the memory in his heart.

At five in the evening, they take a stroll under the rows of cherry blossom trees. Pink petals flying every second following the gentle melody of the wind, making them appear to be dancing in the air before finally reaching the hard ground soon to be stepped on, no longer useful, no longer beautiful, forever forgotten.

Bomi catches three small petals in her palm before they could fall to the earth, and holds her hand out to Hoya. “Make a wish.”

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and thinks of a wish. Then he lifts his gaze up to meet her orbs. The corners of his lips curl into a smile, and he breathes deep. He wants to savour everything there is ― the pinks of the flowers and the greens of the grass, the sound of her breathing and the soft movement of her chest. In this moment he knows they are more alive than they ever have been and ever will, he doesn’t want this to ever end.

Surrounded by the colours and songs of the world, he leans down and plants a kiss on her lips.

Twenty minutes before seven, they head to the park once again to watch the sunset and swear to not make the same mistake they did that morning.

They go home after the twilight since Bomi is tired from walking all day, so Hoya tells him to rest while he makes something for dinner. She insists on helping but he chases her out of the kitchen because the last time she was there he had to splash down a bucket of water to put the fire out.

Once he is done, they eat together facing each other, talking about everything and nothing at once.

Somewhere past eleven, they climb up the stairs of their apartment building and make their way to the rooftop.

He spreads out a blanket on the cold concrete floor, and they lie down looking out at the night sky. They attempt to count the stars, but every time he gets confused and loses count, Bomi burst out giggling. He joins in afterwards, and they both laugh like there is no end to their world.

Then the laughter dies down, and they could hear the noise from down there that somehow to them comes from another far universe.

“How much time do we have left?”

Hoya stares at the half moon longingly. The tips of their finger meet, sending a shiver down to his spine. His heart feels emptier than a school library after the end of an examination, and he’s pretty sure that the coldness he feels on skin isn’t caused by the night breeze only. “Less than an hour,” he says softly.

To his surprise, she gets up to her feet and, facing him, curtsies like a fine lady in an old Victorian film. She extends her right hand at him and asks, “May I have the honour to dance with you?”

He laughs again and swears he sees her cheeks going red. “Of course,” he tells her as he, too, gets up. “But there’s no music.”

“There’s no need for any.”

Silence falls between them as they enjoy their final piece of memory, and she rests her head on his chest.

“Were you happy?”

He turns to look at her and scrutinizes her every detail once again like he did twenty three hours previously. With her porcelain skin being illuminated by the silver moonbeam, she is more beautiful than he ever remembered, and more vivid than she ever was that he asks himself how is that possible? When she returns his gaze and smiles at him, suddenly the hollowness in his heart is there no more. “I was,” he answers. “I am.”

He is. Even when he tries to think about it, there is not a tiny tinge of regret he feels. His wish was granted, and even if it costs him his life, he’s happy, she’s happy, and that is more than enough.

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

“Will it hurt later?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Can’t you stay?”

“I’d like to.”

He feels his shirt getting wet, so he holds her tighter in his embrace.

“Don’t forget about me.”

“Never.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my spring.”

Cold wind rushes by, and when he opens his eyes, there is an empty space in his arms where he is holding nothing but air and the ghostly traces of Bomi that she left behind including a tiny cherry blossom petal on the flat ground.

And Hoya falls to his knees, another half of his soul vanishing into the thin air.