Yoochun looked around the club before making his way towards the bar. He sat cross-legged at a red leather stool and ordered a shot of vodka, downing the liquid in a matter of seconds. The alcohol burned as it traveled down his throat. He gently laid the glass back onto the marble counter top, crushing a wilted flower petal from the impact. Yoochun followed the trail of pale pink petals to a thin, clear vase. The coral flower hung haphazardly on its stem, sinking lower and lower from a stem that could no longer hold the heavy flower. He watched as the blossom fell to the bar top, swept away by the bar tender and tossed carelessly into a trash bin. 

He wanted to forget everything, and alcohol was his way out. As he lifted his hand to ask for another, he noticed a girl step out from behind the burly bouncer. Ebony hair tumbled down her back in waves, an off-the-shoulder black tunic resting comfortably on her shoulders. White shorts continued where the shirt stopped, hanging off her hips. Yoochun peered around the club, it seemed he wasn’t the only one checking her out. He shook his head turning his stool back around, he had other problems to worry about, finding love was out of the question.

“Can I have another vodka?”

“Make that two.”

Yoochun turned to the stool next to him, startled. Bright grey eyes stared back at him, crinkling as the speaker let loose a wide smile. She offered her hand to him, just as the bar tender returned with their drinks. Yoochun took her smaller hand into his, gingerly shaking it.

“Park Yoochun,” he said after releasing her from his grip.

“Kang Sura.”

The duo stared back at each other, locked in a firm gaze. Looking into her eyes, a sense of familiarity washed over him.

“Have we met before?” both Yoochun and Sura asked simultaneously.

Sura chuckled, lifting her hand to cover .

“Sorry, you just seemed, awfully familiar.”

“Don’t be, I had the same thoughts,” he reassured her.

“Do you come here often?” she wondered aloud, crossing her legs, and leaning over the bar counter.

“Not really, I usually go to the more upscale ones,” he boasted. A hint of disappointment flashed through Sura’s face as he looked up from his vodka.

“But, I like this club better, less distractions,” he added smoothly. Two hours and a couple of shots later, Yoochun began feeling less like himself. His back hunched over as a fit of laughs exploded from his mouth, Sura following suit next to him. Her arm slung over his shoulder in an attempt to hold herself up.

“So, you had to hide in a dumpster?” Sura asked with wide eyes. She giggled at the thought, placing her head over her arms on the counter. Yoochun nodded waving his arms frantically.

“Yeah! Then, I got away with their dumplings!” Other people occupying bar stools merely shrugged the drunken fools off. They’d been blabbering nonsense for the past few minutes. Half the things they’d been sputtering probably weren’t even true.

“Then—“

“Hey! You, on the barstool,” he spat. Behind him a group of angry looking men stormed through the club doors, shoving a poor drunkard into a couple lounging on a sofa. The woman squealed, pushed down onto the chair by the man. He groggily stared up at her, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Get off her!” her boyfriend yelled, shoving him back into the crowd of men. He lightly brushed by the leader of the group, falling to the floor at his feet. The man towered over him, scoffing and kicking his side.

“Pathetic,” he muttered. His gaze returned to the bar, zeroing in on the young man still goofing around. He marched over, leaning over the counter and taking the shot glass out of his hands. Once he’d gulped the whole substance down, he threw the glass to the ground, automatically shattering it. His hands wrapped around the collar of Yoochun’s shirt, eyes viciously glaring at the half-conscious man.

“Did you hear me? You,” he lifted Yoochun from his seat, ”stole our dumplings!” Yoochun groaned, the man in front of him was a constant blur, but he was experienced enough to know that one against ten was definitely not a fair match. He shook his head, trying to gain control of his raging mind. Who the hell was this guy?

“But,” he paused to greedily eye Sura, “your friend will be a fair compensation.”

Yoochun snapped away from his daze but played the part of the clueless drunk. While the man continued to blabber on about how . . . fine Sura was Yoochun’s eyes scanned the vicinity, looking for an exit that wasn’t blocked. His eyes flickered back to Sura, he couldn’t just leave her. He grunted in disappointment. But of course, she was too drunk to notice. She was still shoveling down liquor like her life depended on it. At this rate, she’d be tripping over every step she took. He growled, resisting the man’s tight hold on his arm. Damn him. Under him, the floor boards creaked, groaning under the excessive weight. Yoochun’s lips curved into a small smirk as his shoe scraped across a metal handle.

‘Perfect,’ he thought. As soon as the man’s grip slackened Yoochun brought his clenched fist up, ing it into his nose, then elbowed his stomach and kicked him in the groin. Before anyone had any idea what was happening, Yoochun had grabbed Sura’s hand and had yanked her down beneath the wooden floor, the mess of stampeding henchmen blocking their escape way route. By the time they’d cleared the dance floor, both had already left the vicinity.

“,” Yoochun huffed, taking a sharp right turn. He dragged his injured leg along the sidewalk attempting to escape from the five thugs he had stolen money from in an upscale bar a week ago. How they found him, he didn't know. But one thing was for sure, Yoochun was going to ing die if he didn't find a place to hide.

He peeked behind him, only to snap his head back around and pick up his pace. He felt a warm liquid ooze down the side of his face. His hand shook as he ran even harder as the thugs got closer. He breathed heavily, racing towards the pedestrian-filled streets of Seoul. He ran across the street, ignoring the beeping of angry drivers. His eyes locked on a small grocery store, an ’open’ sign hanging off its door. He looked behind him and found that the five guys were catching up to him.

"Yah! Crazy bastard! You think you can ing hide from us?! GET HIM!!"

"." mumbled Yoochun under his breath while clutching the side of  his ribs bruised from the impact of a metal crowbar. Without a second thought, he ran as fast as he could towards the small store and flung the door open with a bang. He hid behind a shelf of jarred kimchi. His back pressed against the shelf, he looked back to the door and saw the five guys run past the store. Sighing with relief, he limped his way towards the front. He needed medicine and bandages now. Without thinking, with his quivering hand, he picked up whatever supply that he could get his hands on and ripped his blood stained t-shirt off. With his teeth, Yoochun managed to open the bag of gauze and began to wrap it around his torso. He pocketed another package of gauze for later and grabbed a few bottles of medicine before heading out.

Just as he reached the entrance, his keen sense of hearing heard quiet footsteps approach him from behind. He instinctively turned around only to be met with a young woman holding a broom up for defense.

"Thief! Are you not going to pay?! I'll call the cops on you!"

Her intense screaming electrified to his head causing a spasm of pain. He gripped his forehead thinking it would make the pain disappear.

"What are you doing?" The woman shrieked again.

He looked up at her. His vision blurred and suddenly Yoochun fainted.

Kang Sura filled a basin with cold water and grabbed a cloth. She passed the room peeking inside before heading into the kitchen to check her soup. She didn't know why she wanted to help him, it was just a sudden instinct for her to do so. When the soup finally finished cooking she brought it as well as side dishes on a tray for the man to eat. She set the tray on the bedside table and sat beside him on the bed. The blanket had covered his whole body. He must have been cold. As she reached over to shake him awake, her hand sank into covers touching nothing but pillow. Her eyes automatically looked around the room falling on the open window. She ran down the stairs, into her small store and out the front door. Sura was greeted by a gust of cold wind. She instinctively put her arms around her as she searched for the missing man. Despite the cold weather, there was a figure limping around the corner in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. She ran to his side, not forgetting to pound her fists into his shoulder. He yelled in pain.

"Where do you think you're going?" yelled Sura. "You're seriously hurt right now!"

He gave her a look before continuing down the corner. 

Sura followed after him. "Are you deaf? Did you not hear me?!" After he ignored her for the second time, she grabbed onto his arm and made him stop. She began walking in the opposite direction, dragging him along.

"Stop!" He yelled. "What the are you doing? I have to leave!"

"Not in this condition!"

"It doesn't matter. I have to leave. Stop following me," he commanded. "I don't need some girl telling me what to do."

"But I can help you!"

"I told you, I don't need help from a girl especially one who can't even put on some simple bandages," he gestured to the rumpled bandages poorly wrapped around his torso. "If you can't do that what makes you think you're of any help at all!"

"I tried okay! It's not my fault I couldn't move you!" Sura shouted back. Yoochun rolled his eyes and pushed past her to walk the way he was going before. Sura glared at the spot he occupied just a few seconds ago. Why did she bother? He tried to steal from her! She huffed in annoyance and stormed back to the store, stomping up to her apartment. Stupid prick. She slammed her door shut and closed her eyes. All she wanted to do was help him, what was his problem? When her eyes fluttered open a picture of her parents smiling faces greeted her.

"Great, what do you want?" She stared at their faces, her scowl turning into a bittersweet smile. Her parents didn't move, they remained smiling like nothing was wrong. Why wouldn't they? It was a stupid picture; a happy memory trapped inside a glass frame. They were always smiling, Sura was always smiling too. Until something threw her world off balance. Sura glanced at the digital clock blinking over her stove top. He couldn't have gotten far. She was gone for what? Three minutes? 

"And you wonder why it's so hard for me to forget about your deaths. Umma, appa, see what I've become without you guys? I can't even help some injured thief without getting riled up," she ranted. 

The start of raindrops pelting on her window drew her attention away from her inner monologue. She sighed; that thief probably didn't even have an umbrella. He only had a t-shirt . . . he was probably going to get sick again . . . Sura groaned and slapped her hands on her cheeks trying to release herself from a trance. "Only because I feel generous today, appa, umma."

Grabbing a light green umbrella, Sura slipped out of the shop again, heading off in the same direction she'd left him. He was standing in the same exact spot. If that wasn't odd enough, he was staring up at the sky so despairingly it was almost heartbreaking. His mouth was slightly open, eyes firmly shut. Sura couldn't tell if he was crying or not but she didn't want to disturb the image he'd created, destroyed, and recreated for her. She lightly tip-toed away, and was ready to make a run back to her apartment when she slipped on a piece of broken glass. She let out a scream of frustration as she fell to the floor.

"Who's there?" Sura froze just as she was beginning to stand. Footsteps resounded on the asphalt, nearing her. She staggered off to the side trying to avoid any confrotation but instead was met with one.

"What are you doing?" He said as he reached for her. "Are you hurt?"

Sura looked away as she tried to get herself up. She felt his hand grasp on her arm to help her up. Sura brushed herself off and tugged his arm towards her when his hand didn't release her waist. Yoochun stumbled behind her as she made her way back down the street and into her apartment. Too shocked to react to anything that had just happened, he stood staring at Sura tossing her umbrella aside. She didn't so much as glance at him, even as she tidied up the living room and pulled him onto the sofa. When she finally did look at him, he noticed he was situated in the living room. He blinked in utter confusion, when did he get here? He stood up from his seat only to be pushed back down by Sura who had returned with a thermometer.

"You are not going anywhere. Can you just stay still? This would go by a lot quicker if you just calm down. It's not like I'm going to put a knife to your throat," she snickered, sticking the device into his mouth. Yoochun sighed, but did as he was told. He didn't feel like fighting back anymore; this chick was never going to leave him alone. Sura peered at the thermometer. 102.1. 

"You're staying here tonight," she concluded. "No protesting."

"But--"

"No."

"Why would you even take in a stranger? Aren't you afraid I'll steal something like at the store?" Yoochun questioned as Sura stalked away from him. She snapped her head back to look at him, sizing him up. She took a step towards him, then turned back around and continued her way to her bedroom.

"It's late, you should get some sleep," was her only reply.

Yoochun woke up the next morning with an excruciating pain in his head and an arm on his chest. He closed his eyes leisurely and snuggled into the thick comforter, scooting closer to the warm body. 

"Mmmmm."

. He tumbled out of the comforters and put his hands up into a fighting stance. His breathing calmed down once he saw it was only that girl from yesterday. He shrugged then slipped back into the bed. Bed? He stepped back out of the blankets and instead took a seat on the floor. What exactly happened when he fell asleep last night? He remembered being dragged by his sweater and hitting his head on the hardwood floor last night. He sighed and rested his head on the bed, no wonder it still hurt. Sura stirred, rolling into the blankets and making a cocoon around her body. She groggily rubbed her eyes and squinted at the sun shining in through her window. Then, she spotted a tuft of black hair nuzzled into the side of the bed. She blew a raspberry and squirmed closer to the head belonging to the shop thief, until she was a centimeter away from his black hair. She could hear him mumbling to himself. Something about hitting his head last night. Last night . . . her cheeks flared in embarrassment. 

Last night she'd felt sort of bad for making him sleep on the sofa. He was supposed to be the guest after all. So, out of the kindness in her heart, she'd decided to move him onto her bed instead. Easier said then done; he was heavier than those sacks of potatoes downstairs. She had trouble getting him off the sofa but that was about it . . . well . . . until she accidentally dropped his head on the floor. She winced at the thought.Whoops. Oh well, not like he'd ever find out it was her. He was sleeping like a baby through the whole thing.

"Yah, are you thinking about how you dropped my head on the floor. You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Sura snapped away from last night's memory and banged her head against a rough surface. It ended up groaning, a loud thump coming from it as it hit the floor. Sura peeked down at him and smiled sheepishly.

"Morning."

"Ugghhhh."

"Do you want something to eat? Here let me help you," she said, reaching out to take his hand. But he waved her hand away heaving himself up off the floor.

"No need, you might unintentionally hurt me again. Why is it every time I'm near you something bad happens to me," he mumbled. "And food sounds nice right now."

"Coffee?" Yoochun nodded, following her into the kitchen at the corner of her apartment. He sat on a bar stool, watching her hands flitter about, whisking a batch of eggs and taking a bunch of ingredients from the fridge. 

"What do you want on your omelette?" she asked, pouring the eggs into a pan.

"What do you have?"

"Tomato, mushroom, bell pepper, some bacon," she replied in monotone.

"That sounds good."

Sura swiftly cut the vegetables and tossed in the cooked bacon,pausing to take out a clean plate. She placed it in front of him and slid the omelette onto it. "Tell me how it is."

"It's good," Yoochun murmured, shoveling it into his mouth impatiently. Sura laughed and set a mug of coffee next to him. She leaned on the counter across from him and sipped on her own.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're just familiar is all. I don't even know your name."

"Oh, um, Park Yoochun."

"Yoochun? I'm Kang Sura."

"Your eyes...they're grey..."

"Oh," Sura touched her face with her hand. "It's a recessive gene."

"Oh, that's really weird." Yoochun starred intently at her. "You look familliar..."

Awkward silence.

Sura coughed, "So why were you bleeding so much yesterday?"

Yoochun choked on the last bite of his omelette. Well, she didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"I was just at the wrong place."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, do you live here alone?" he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"No, well, yeah, now. My aunt moved out a few days ago after she got married. She left the store to me. Are you going to keep avoiding the question?"

"Yes, so don't make my efforts useless. Just forget about it."

He took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the taste. He looked into the mug. Black coffee? He looked at her questioningly. "You like your coffee black?"

"Sometimes, but definitely not because it tastes good," Sura answered, making a face at the drink. "It just reminds me of home. You know how a family would sit down in the morning and eat together? My dad always had black coffee Saturday morning. When I asked him why he told me to ask my mom," she smiled fondly, rubbing her hands against the warm mug. "She said they met at a coffee shop when he was on break from his job. Mom said she remembered him as the man who always ordered a large coffee, milk, and four scoops of sugar. There was a day when mom accidentally mixed his orders with someone else's. When he came over to complain, that's when they met."

"At a coffee shop?"

"Yeah," Sura grinned, swirling the contents of her mug. "They had the perfect first meeting. I guess dad always drank black coffee to remind him of mom. Now, I drink it to remind me of them. How about you? How did your parents meet?"

"Mine? I don't know. I never really asked," Yoochun shifted in his seat, scooting closer to the counter. He took a sip of the coffee. The rush of warm liquid down his throat calmed him. "They were always too into their job to be around me. Well, at least my dad was. I never saw him much. My mom, too. She actually passed away when I was a boy, Maybe that was why dad overworked himself, so that he didn't have time to think about her. After she died, I don't think he maintained any sanity. He was different. Everything changed after she died."

"Death does that to people," she murmured, standing from her stool and motioning towards the sofa. Yoochun followed her, entranced by the way she moved.  Light, undetectable footsteps, almost hesitant. If she didn't voice it, she did show it, subtly. She was hesitant; she was telling her life story to a complete stranger who could turn on her at any moment. Her mug clacked against the coffee table as she settled into the sofa, curling her legs to her chest. Gray eyes turned to Yoochun, wordlessly speaking, yet saying so much. He walked forward, grabbing the blanket hanging off the sofa's arm and draped it over her shoulders before sitting next to her. 

"You . . . don't seem affected by the thought of death. I'm guessing it isn't new to you," he breathed, uncomfortably shifting positions on couch, avoiding the stares she was giving him. "It feels like you experienced it first hand."

"I did," she said softly, her voice quivering at the end. "It isn't really something I like to talk about."

"Oh, then--"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP--

Sura dashed to her bedroom and shut her alarm clock off, dropping the blanket on her bed. She messily tied her hair into a bun and walked back to pick her mug up and throw the remains into the sink. An apologetic smile made it's way to her face.

"Sorry. I think it's about time I open up the shop. Fridays, you know?" she said, shuffling closer. Yoochun sprang up from the sofa and cleared his throat. 

"Right, I forgot. I guess I should get going then?" he mumbled. Sura dug through a closet near the entrance, pulling out his newly washed clothes and handing them to him. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a second until she had walked off to the bathroom. She came back holding a fresh roll of bandages. She held out her hand for him to take it, but retracted her hand, biting her bottom lip nervously.

"Maybe I should just change it now. I think it's starting to leak again," she whispered. Yoochun looked down at his torso and felt the tender area. 

"Alright."

"Can you take your shirt off so I can remove the old bandages?" He did as he was told, closing his eyes as he felt her fingers deftly brushing against his stomach, unwinding the bloodied bandages. "Do you mind lifting your arms so I can get this fully around?" Yoochun shook his head, raising his arms. Warmth embraced him as her arms hovered just a few millimeters away from his skin. Once. Twice. Three times, wrapping the bandage securely around him. He deliberately moved so that her arm was pressed against his torso. To his satisfaction she didn't move away, completely oblivious to his intentions. But the comfort her touch offered disappeared all too soon as she retracted her arms. "Done. Let me walk you out?"

"Sure," Yoochun replied, turning his back and smiling as he did. He shook his head and grinned, opening her front door. Sura trailed after him, down the stairs, and right to the front door. She shakily unlocked the door, aware of his gaze on her back. She punched in the alarm code to deactivate it and opened the door for him. Yoochun stepped through, sighing once he heard it close behind him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down the street slowly filling with a steady flow of people. It had been a while since he'd been able to sit down and talk to someone. It felt nice. Perhaps it was because he had the right company, he couldn't really say.The door behind him jingled again, the metal hitting his shoulder. He spun around, an amused smile playing on his face as a red faced Sura stepped out of the shop.

"Will I see you again?" Yoochun blinked in surprise, the smile slipping from his face. Sura blushed and fiddled with a black apron she'd thrown on to fit her work attire. "I mean, it's been some time since I could talk so openly with someone. I though maybe--"

"Definitely," he said, letting out a soft chuckle. 

A total of two days had passed since Sura had met Park Yoochun. He had yet to show himself a second time. She sighed and leaned impatiently against the counter, passing the time by rearranging the gum display. The bells chimed as a customer entered. 

"Hello, welcome to--"

"Hey," replied a husky-toned Park Yoochun, standing in front of her in all his glory. He waved a hand in her face when she didn't respond; she just stared straight ahead. "Sura?"

"Hello, welcome to--"

"Are you that shocked to see me? I told you I'd come to see you again," he laughed, leaning over the counter. "It's only been two days." He was laughing. That fact surprised her the most. Laughing . . . genuinely. A smile made its way to her face. Whatever had pissed him off two days ago had completely blown over. Yoochun tinkered with the ornaments hanging around the cash register, smiling like a little kid.

"Why so happy?" asked Sura absentmindedly.

"I can't be happy?" he jokingly replied. "Well, I spent time with my dad yesterday. I would've visited sooner but he wanted to hang out. It was great Sura! We talked about everything and I told him about you," Yoochun paused, tapping a finger against his chin in thought. "When I told him about you he said he knew you. Did you know a Park Sangwoo by chance?"

"No. I didn't really hang out with kids my age except when I went to school, let alone an adult. It was a long walk to my neighbors house where I used to live with mom and dad," she answered shaking her head. At least she couldn't think of someone who went by that name. Her childhood memories were a blur and she'd decided to keep it that way. It helped hold back memories she just didn't want to remember. Bad memories. It was a part of her life she couldn't come to terms with.

"So what have you been up to. Keeping up with the shop? Are you always working? How about the other employees?" Yoochun spoke, rapidly firing questions at her. Sura blinked in confusion.

"Yes, I am always working and there are no other employees. Auntie never trusted anyone except me to take care of the shop. But I guess now that she isn't here I could use some more hands. Someone that can carry all those heavy crates when we have to restock . . ." Sura mumbled, thinking more to herself now. But Yoochun heard her. He scowled without realizing it. Someone carrying all those crates probably meant she was going to hire another guy. That thought alone irked him. He was lucky no boys around their age came around frequently. 

"I could help you," he offered, mentally giving himself a pat on the back for such a great idea. That way he could keep tabs on her and maybe get some extra cash. Park Yoochun wouldn't mind sticking around with Kang Sura. No, he didn't mind at all. 

Yoochun stood awkwardly leaning against the shop door, waiting for Sura to lock up so they could go for lunch. He rubbed his wrists, thin red marks crusted against his skin from when he failed to lift the last box. What an embarrassment; Sura had to come out and help him with the heavy load. He absolutely failed as a man. On the other side of the glass door, Sura peeked from under the white blinds, sneaking glimpses of him. She snapped her head back in surprise when Yoochun had almost caught her staring at him. He was no good for her; he was making her do these ridiculous things unintentionally.

"Are you alright in there? Sura?"

Sura stuck her head out the door only to see Yoochun's face no less than an inch away from hers. She jumped back in surprise, her foot snagging on a piece of paper stuck between a couple of boxes. She stumbled back and tripped backwards landing in a pile of foam peanuts on her way down. Instead of standing back up she slumped back into the pile of rubbish, her cheeks flooding with red at Yoochun's laughter. That jerk. He extended his hand, a kind gesture to usher her up. But for laughing at her . . . Yoochun found himself blinking up at the ceiling, this time, Sura giggling beside him.

"Sorry, couldn't help it," she managed to sputter out, a few giggles slipping out every so often. Yoochun sent a mock glare at her, managing to flick a few pieces of foam into her face. Sura stopped giggling, eyes narrowed at the culprit.

"Sorry, couldn't help it," Yoochun mocked. The next thing he knew, he was hit with a barrage of the tiny things.

"Whoops," she mimicked him. He laughed and threw a bunch into the air, the foam going back and forth between them. In the few minutes to come they were at opposite sides of the room, hiding behind crates and throwing the small pieces at each other whenever the chance arose. While she was occupied with scoping him out from beind a crate, Yoochun had already snuck behind her, grabbing her around the waist. She giggled at the contact while Yoochun stopped dead in his tracks. Where hd he heard that giggle before? He could've sworn it wasn't the first time he heard it. Before he could think of where he'd heard it before the phone from inside the shop began ringing. Yoochun stopped to catch his breath, looking towards where the phone that had ruined the whole atmostphere was located. Sura didn't move away from his grip, her back resting against his chest.

"Sura, I think it's an important call," he whispered, trying to pry her attention away. She was still nestled into his arms and made no sign of moving away so he didn't bother moving either. There was something pricking the back of his mind. That giggle was definitely something he'd heard before. His mind recalled a little girl than a smiling face giggling next to him on a patch of damp grass. His eyes snapped open in realization. . She was that girl from the bar! His thoughts were disrupted by a shrill voice calling her name from inside the store. He released her from his arms and watched as she ran back into the store, picking up the phone.

Suddenly, his arms felt empty, his thoughts going back to the girl from the bar. From the bar . . . they were chased by . . . who? All he remembered of that night was running away from them and talking, however briefly, to her. She couldn't stop hiccuping . . . he lightly chuckled to himself at the memory. What were they thinking that night? Well they probably hadn't been thinking. They'd been  falling over each other drunk after all. 

"No, auntie, I can't. I have to watch over the shop remember?" Sura sighed into the phone, moving to sit on a counter. She clicked a button, putting it on speaker phone and crossing her legs. Yoochun strode over to her, leaning against the same counter and listening in on the conversation. 

"But I haven't seen you in such a long time!" someone on the other line whined.

"Who do I leave the shop to then? I can't just--"

"I'll watch it for you if you want," Yoochun murmured softly.

"You don't--"

"Oh! Sura, who is that? Is that a boy? Omo! A boyfriend?! In my days, something like that would be considered scandalous! Are you two alone?"

"Auntie! Please stop cutting me off and he's not my boyfriend! He's just . . . a friend," she replied nervously.

"That's what I said. A boy friend, right? Oh, please bring him over. He's your first boyfriend and I want to meet him," she pleaded.

"But he's not--"

"I won't take no for an answer," she taunted. Yoochun could briefly imagine an older woman wagging her finger at him. "Joong Ki and I will be expecting you within a few days."

"But the shop--"

"Oh, no one will be extremely upset if it's closed a day. God, you're so uptight, Sura. Live a little! Bye! Joong Ki's waiting for me in the bedroom. I'll see you!"

Dial tone.

Sura stared at her phone than at Yoochun in shock.

"She called me uptight! She told me to live a little! Her husband's waiting for her in their bedroom," she wailed. Yoochun chuckled at her despair, patting her thigh. 

"It's alright."

"No, it isn't! Aunt Ha Rin's forty-three! And you heard her, her love life sounds amazing," she ranted. "I haven't even had a boyfriend in my life." She buried her head into her hands in embarrassment. Yoochun hopped onto the counter next to her.

"Does that matter? You're only twenty-two, right? I haven't had a girlfriend before and I'm twenty-four," he said, lying smoothly. Sura rose a brow, staring him down. Yeah, right. He was probably lying to make her feel better. 

"Liar."

"But it made you feel better, right?"

"I never realized you grew up here. We never talked about it did we?" Yoochun asked, staring around the seemingly desolate town. Seemingly. Key word. To everyone else, it might've seemed empty. But it was home. Where he grew up. Where they both grew up, apparently. Without realizing it, they'd grown up in the same town. If he remembered correctly, there weren't many kids around when he was a kid. There was only him and another girl he used to play with. His hands trembled at the thought of that girl and what she was doing now, how she was doing. 

It was the first time he'd come back here in a long time. Since everyone knew each other in this town news about new arrivals, or visitors in their case, spread like wild-fire. The whole town would know about their arrival in a couple of hours. Yoochun just hoped  when word did get around to him, both him and Sura would be out of that hell hole, safe someplace else. He didn't know if he could protect her from him.

"We talked about everything but that on the train ride here. But, here we are, this is my aunt's house," Sura introduced. A rush of nostalgia hit Yoochun full force. This house was so familiar. His eyes squinted up at it carefully. From where though? Around Sura he was having an awful lot of memories rushing back at him. Some of them weren't so bad but other memories were another story entirely.

"SURA!" A voice squealed. The front door slammed open, a petite woman, shorter than Sura running out and jumping onto her niece. From the looks of it . . . whoa. Yoochun did a double take once he took in her appearance. This woman didn't look a day over forty. He gulped once her gaze turned to him. He stood awkwardly shuffling his feet. Her stare was unnerving. Finally, after a few minutes of pointless staring, she let loose a wide smile, gesturing for him to come closer. "Hello."

"Uh, hi," he awkwardly replied, returning her smile. He jumped back in surprise when the woman squealed again, running back to Sura and pulling on the sleeve of her sweater. 

"Oh, wow, Sura! His voice is so . . . smooth. Where did you find him?" Yoochun smiled nervously once she turned to get a second look at him. "He has a nice smile . . ."

"Auntie, you're married," Sura bluntly stated. "Where's Joong Ki?"

"He's inside talking to a friend. Why don't the both of you come inside for some tea. I'll go whip us up a batch. Make yourselves at home, I'll be back," she said disappearing into what he assumed the kitchen. He let out the breath he'd been holding since he got here. Why was it that he was so nervous now?

Sura seemed to konw what thoughts were flooding through his head and patted his back in comfort as he sank into the sofa next to her. "Why so tense, Yoochun?"

"It's nothing. I think it's just being back here that's making me nervous."

"You're not the only one. I haven't been back at this house since I was a kid. Hey, wanna head to the backyard? It's nothing special but I just wanted to check something out."

"Yeah, sure. Should we tell your aunt?"

"Nah, she'll know where to find us," she replied casually, skipping off.

There it was again, that sense of familiarity she managed to bring out whenever she was around him. Who was she? He peeked past the screen door, to see Sura halfway up a ladder leading to a rickety looking tree-house. He followed after her not as sure in his steps. What greeted him at the top was what he expected, dusty beanbag chairs, a couple of magazines, and a few toys scattered about. He found Sura huddled in a corner, smiling cheekily at what looked like photos? He crouched down next to her, observing them. 

"Is that you?" he asked, sitiing next to her.

"Yeah, back then everything was easier," she whispered. "I thought we'd be friends for a long time but I guess not, things change."

"This boy here? What happened to him?" Yoochun the worn picture.

"I don't want to talk about it. If I do, it'll just bring back bad memories."

"Bad memories?" Sura bit her lip and looked away, fiddling with her fingers to avoid the question. Yoochun reached over, gripping her hand in his own. Slowly, he entangled their fingers. "Tell me." She shook her head in protest. "Sura," he pleaded.

"I can't. My parents--"

"What's so bad that you can't tell me?" he asked.

"It's just--"

"Sura."

"ALRIGHT!" she shouted, yanking her hand away from him. "Alright," she whispered this time. "I always thought since we were friends that I knew everything about him. We were so close, Yoochun. We did everything together. But then, he went and threatened my parents with a gun. Where he got it or what made him do it is still a mystery to me." Like a rubber band, Yoochun's memory snapped back just the same way. Sura wasn't just the girl he'd met at a bar. She wasn't just a girl who tended to him when he needed her most. She was Sura. The girl who he spent his childhood years with. The boy in the picture . . . was him.

His grip loosened from her hand, falling to his side from the shock of it all. He had been trying to avoid this at all cost. After twelve years, she was sitting in front of him. As much as it pained him to admit it, he was the boy she was talking about. The one who had threatened her parents, gotten close to her, and developed a small crush on her even after all that. The question was though, did she remember him as the boy who had murdered her parents, or was too scared to do the deed?

"But, I know, he wasn't doing it because he wanted to. I know he wasn't doing it out of his own free will. He couldn't have. I believed he didn't. I still do. He was only a few years older than me. That couldn't have happened," she added. "I know he didn't pull the trigger that night. There was someone else, Yoochun. Someone else who wanted them dead." 

"Sura, come here," he commanded. She looked up at him in confusion, but did as she was told anyway, sitting directly in front of him. "Do you remember what the little boy told you twelve years ago? A day before the incident, what did he give you? What did he say when he gave it to you?"

"Chunnie, wait for me! Where are you going?" Sura stumbled up the grassy hill, her yellow dress, blowing in the summer heat. "Chunnie!" she shouted. A boy looking atop the hill turned around, smiling down at her and extending his hand for her to take. Sura grinned up at him and took his hand, a hint of pink shining on the apple of her cheeks. She was young but she knew, what feelings she had for this boy in front of her weren't those of a friend anymore. They were something different.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you before. I was busy getting you something," he said, reaching into his back pocket. "Here, take it."

"What is it?" she asked, twirling the stem between her tiny finger. Her eyes stared at the flower in wonder than at the boy who had given it to her. He smiled softly but something about it was off, even she could tell. Sura pouted and reached a hand out to pinch his cheek with her fingers. "Chunnie, smile the right way," she commanded.

"I am! I am! See," he said, trying to persuade her. Sura narrowed her eyes at him.

"Liar." 

"I'm not!" he whined, stomping his foot.

"What is it?" she asked again, ignoring his pout. "It's really pretty, Chunnie."

"The ahjumma at the flower-shop gave it to me. She said it was the best flower for you! It’s called a pink camellia,” he said proudly for remembering it’s name. “It means longing for you.”

“Longing?”

“Yeah, it means . . . I want to date you!” he bluntly stated.

“E-eh? Date me?”

“Uh huh. It’s that thingy your mommy and daddy did before they got married.”

“What do you do when you date?” Sura innocently asked.

“You hold hands and kiss. Stuff like that.”

Sura’s cheeks flared. Kiss? Chunnie?

“So wait until we get older okay, Sura? You’re going to be my girlfriend. You just have to promise you’ll wait for me until then.”

“Alright, Chunnie,” she whispered. “I’ll wait.”

“I remember but . . . why do you know about that?” Sura asked confused, not able to put the pieces together completely.

“I know about it because I’m the one who told you them. I just want to know if you kept your promise, Sura. Do you still want me in your life as your best friend from twelve years ago or as a person willing to love you ‘til the end? Are you proud of the man I’ve become?”

“Chunnie . . .” she whispered, shutting her eyes

“Is that your final answer?”

“No,” she answered.

“Chunnie . . . is that who you want me to be? Tell me what you want, Sura.”

“I want,” she opened her eyes and inched closer to his face “you.”

“Then come here,” he ordered. Before Sura could blink, he was staring down at her, a coy smile playing on his lips. Surprising both of them, Sura closed the distance between them first. She let her breath fall on his lips before she pecked them softly, testing him. Then she kissed him again, with more authority this time. She felt Yoochun’s lips contort into a small smile before he brought her hands to rest around his neck. His hands lingered on her back, occasionally trailing up her spine as their lips remained locked.

“Oh, Sura, so this is where you’ve been,” said a deep voice. Sura slowly pulled away from their kiss, smiling at Yoochun’s closed eyes before turning to the voice’s originator. “Is this the boy your aunt was going crazy over a few days ago?” he asked, extending his hand in a friendly gesture. Yoochun unwound his arms from around Sura’s waist and accepted the handshake. “Hi, I’m Joong Ki, Sura’s uncle. And you are . . . ?”

“Park Yoochun,” he replied, reattaching his arms to Sura’s waist. Now that he had her there was no chance of him letting go. “Nice to meet you.”

“I was just showing my friend around, Sura, Yoochun, this is Park Minhyo. He lives just down the road,” Joong Ki announced wrapping an arm affectionately over his shoulder. But that name . . . Yoochun bolted up from his seat on the ground, pulling Sura up with him. She looked up at him in confusion, her eyes flickering between Yoochun and Minhyo. There was something there. While Yoochun had softer features and a warm smile, Minhyo was the polar opposite. His smile was daunting, like he was hiding something.

“No need for introductions, I know them already,” Minhyo chuckled, taking a step inside the tree house. Yoochun gritted his teeth and forced a smile.

“If you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere to be by the next hour,” Yoochun smoothly lied, taking Sura’s hand and leading her out.

“You sure? Ha Rin’s making tea for us. Why don’t you stay a bit so we can catch up?”

Sura felt Yoochun’s grip on her hand tighten. She looked up at him worriedly.

“Yoochun, what’s wrong? Who is he?” she questioned, trying to figure it out herself but, she just couldn’t piece the facts together.

“Listen to me, Sura. I need you to get out of here. Find your aunt and call the police,” he murmured quietly, lightly nudging her towards the door. “Go.”

“But why?”

“Yes, Yoochun. Tell us, why? Do you have some sort of grudge against me? Trying to act tough in front of your girlfriend? He left you twelve years ago when you needed him most. Are you sure you’re going to trust him now?” Minhyo asked, taking careful steps toward Yoochun.

“Go,” Yoochun whispered again. “Just do as I said. He’s not in his right mind, Sura. He’s dangerous, unstable.”

“Come now, Yoochun. Is that anyway to talk to your father?”

“What father?” Yoochun spat. “My father died after my mom passed away.”

“Then what does that make me?”

“The alcoholic that tried to fill in for him,” he fired back.

Sura was halfway down the ladder when she heard banging against the wood and angry shouts making their way down. Neighbors were starting to peek their heads out of their windows to see what the commotion about. That was Yoochun’s dad?

“PARK YOOCHUN YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT! I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD!”

“NO, MOM DID! IF YOU BROUGHT ME ANYWHERE IT WAS HELL!”

Verbal abuse. ual abuse. Physical abuse. That was what he suffered through during his childhood years. His father had become an alcoholic right after his mother died. Yoochun thought it had something to do with his mother’s distaste for the substance. Maybe in some twisted way, his father was hoping his mother would come back just to scold him and he’d be able to convince her to stay instead of going back to heaven. Park Yoochun wasn’t listening to the police officers informing him of his father’s situation. He was watching the said man being dragged off in handcuffs. Thank god for that.

A pair of arms wounded their way around his torso. Feeling the warmth emitted from the body behind him, Yoochun had two guesses. It was either Sura . . . or Sura. He relaxed into her grip, placing his hands over her delicate ones on his waist. This was it, their love story. Yoochun shook the thought of telling their kids the story to the side. He didn’t want to have to describe a grisly murder scene and they definitely didn’t need to know about the murderer being his dad.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked suddenly. Sura  shook her head.

“No, why would I be? You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly. I didn’t do anything except leave you when you needed me the most.”

“But you came back, right?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Then, that’s all that matters.”

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