*

*

*

*

*

Jung Daehyun's POV: 

  I sit alone one of the couches, a towel wrapped around my shoulders, so that the water dripping from my hair doesn't wet my new shirt. 

  Somewhere in the midst of the sounds of the storm, I hear the slight drizzle of the shower that Sarang is taking, while her clothes are in the dryer. I knew they would probably take a while to completely dry, so I'd left a bundle of my own clothes out near the sink before she went in the washroom. I don't know why I did it. I don't even know what I've been doing the past night. Or why I didn't push Sarang away the moment she wrapped her arms around me. 

   But now that I'm alone, things start to get clearer in my mind. 

  It's the perfect time. No one else but her and I are in this house, and there's a huge storm outside, one that many hasn't seen in years. If I kill her tonight, I could just take her corpse outside and leave her in a street that's far from here, and no one will ever suspect that it was I who had done it. 

  I stand slowly, then make my way over to the kitchen. Mi Yung Ahjumma likes to keep it sparkling clean, organizing each and every kitchen appliance until it could seem as if the room were a photo straight from a home improvement magazine. 

  I'd spotted the knives way before tonight, precisely the moment I moved in. 

  Ahjumma has a particularly impressive array of them, in all sorts of sizes and shapes. Their pointed ridges differ from each one, some more sharper than others, some more dull. One even has sides that are spiked and rugged, created to slice easily through bone. 

   I just have my hand around the handle of that specific knife when I hear something. 

  It's a melody, strum from a guitar. The music swells lightly around the house, reaching my ears easily. 

  I freeze, my hand falling from the knife's handle. The tune is something that I've heard before, so long ago, when I was just a boy. 

   I rest my head immediately on my pillow, curling myself up into the perfect sleeping position on my mat just before my father walks into the room. The smell of alcohol is obvious; it wafts down to my nose, and I have to restrain myself from crinkling it in distaste. He's been drinking again, and I don't want to have any part of his drunken state tonight. 

  I slowly make my way towards the staircase, the music driving my body instead of my mind.

   He sits down beside me and does something that I don't recall he's ever done before. He stretches out a hand and my hair as gently as humanly possible, repeating the motion for a few minutes. The action is unfamiliar to me, but I accept it without complaint. It is the first time that I've ever had the feeling that my father loves me.

   My footsteps are lighter than I would've thought them to be as I walk up the stairs. I feel as if I am floating gently to a brighter place.

   When his hand leaves my hair I want to open my eyes and plead for him to do it again, but I stop myself before I do something I regret. My father shifts away from my mat and I hear something that seems to be wooden and hollow clunk against the floorboards. He grunts as he heaves whatever the object is onto his lap. A few strums from it tells me immediately that what he has in his hands is the guitar that I'd found buried under a rather large amount of things in the closet. I'd been looking around the house in curiosity while he was away, and was hoping that he wouldn't return before I put everything back in its place again.

  I'm getting closer to the music now. The melody streams over to me clearer than it was downstairs. I drift towards it, feeling empty tears cloud my vision. 

  He starts playing a gentle tune on the guitar, one I've never heard before. But then again, we never had any sort of music played in this household; he never allowed it. This tune is soft and happy but somehow sorrowful all at the same time. The notes swirl around the room, encasing me into a bliss that I've never experienced before ever in my entire life. Just before I drift into a peaceful unconsciousness as my father's song ends, I feel a tear escape from my eye and drip onto the pillow beneath me.

  I enter the room to find Park Sarang sitting atop the wooden rocking chair in Ahjumma's room, a guitar balanced on her lap. My clothes hang loosely around her small frame, and a towel rests on her shoulders. Underneath wisps of her damp hair, her eyes are closed as she plays the nostalgic song. Behind the chair is a large narrow window, outlooking the storm outside. It casts moving shadows along the walls and floor of the room, all traceries of the trees and branches swaying in the wind. 

  She finishes the song with a smooth flourish, her long, slender fingers lingering above the strings for a long breathless moment, and I watch silently as she breathes in and out methodically, her pale, lovely face looking almost unearthly in the glow of the night. Then, slowly, she opens her eyes. When she does, she notices me, a smile already crossing her face when she does. 

   "Daehyun-ah," she says, pleased. She notices how I waver at the door and waves for me to come over, then pats the space on the bed next to the chair.

   I sit where she indicates. A few moments of silence pass between us as we listen to the sounds of the weather brewing outside.

  "Daehyun-ah," she says again. I look over at her. She's staring at me, her large eyes exploring my face. 

  "Yeh?" I say accordingly. 

  She smiles. "Thank you for tonight," she tells me. 

  I pause before I answer. "You already said that," I inform her. 

  She chuckles softly. She has a very gentle laugh, along with her very gentle demeanor. 

  "I just want you to know how much I really mean it," she says, then looks out the window. She continues. "Thirteen years ago, on a night like this, my parents were murdered in the middle of the night." 

  My whole body tenses, and my hands instantly form into fists. Fortunately, she's still looking out the window at the storm, so she doesn't take note of my reaction. She goes on. 

  "I remember my mother pushing me into the closet in their bedroom. It was a sliding door made of shades instead of solid wood, so I could peer through to see what was happening. I remember watching as a large man came bounding into the room with a long knife in his hand. I remember how he was wearing all black, but his hood was thrown back, and he was grinning. I can never forget what he looks like. Ever. I realized only later that he actually wanted my parents to see his face, before he killed them both. I still have no idea why." 

  She swallows audibly. As I watch her, I can see tear tracks line her cheeks. She doesn't move to brush them away.

  "My father tried to fight him, but he was weak from just waking up. He tried consulting with the man first, but it was apparently no use. I still remember what they said." Her hands grip the guitar like a lifeline, her knuckles standing out spikedly. "'Min Jook-ah,' my appa said. 'Min Jook-ah, why?'" 

  A long breath escapes from me at the sound of my father's name from her lips. I wait for her to continue.

  "The man spoke in snarled, angry rasps. I can never forget his voice, either. He said, 'You know exactly why, Ju Rin-ah.' My father tried apologizing after that, saying that he didn't know what he was sorry for, but he was sorry anyways. But the man wouldn't hear any of it. He just said, 'The one who you should be apologizing to is Soo Yun, but you can't now, can you?' He screamed the next words. 'You can't because she's dead! And you're the one who killed her!'" 

  I can tell that that had been the time that my father had killed her parents by the way she chokes on her words and bows her head, silent tears wracking her shoulders as she cradles the guitar in her arms. 

  Soo Yun. 

  That was the name of my mother. 

  There is so much I want to ask her, in that moment. Does she know how her father killed my mother? Does she know what her father had to do with both my parents? How does she know that song? How...Why...

  But all I do is wait for her while she cries and wonder why even though tonight is the perfect time to kill her, I simply cannot.

*~(~*~(~*~(~*

Park Sarang's POV:

   I'd instantly recognized this house as Shin Mi Yung Ahjumma's home the second I raised my head after hugging Daehyun. 

  She used to babysit me when Auntie was out, and she was the one who had kept my interest of gardening alive after my appa died and we couldn't garden together anymore. I always looked forward to going to her house; it was always a haven where I could spend my time doing what I loved to do: gardening, playing the guitar and painting, all because Mi Yung Ahjumma loved doing those things as well, and she had everything that was needed inside her home. 

  After I'd talked with Daehyun inside Ahjumma's room and he let me cry beside him, we'd gone down to the kitchen. My knee is badly scraped under Daehyun's long, baggy pants, and I try not to make it too obvious, but my limping is much too discernible to ignore. 

   Daehyun scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. 

  "Ah, I would get the first aid kit, but I don't really have an idea where it is," he says to me, looking down. 

  I smile at him. "Don't worry," I tell him, shuffling towards the cabinets next to the pantry. "I know where it is." 

  After I explain to him exactly why I'm familiar with everything in the house, we sit together on the couch and I bring my legs up onto the cushions, gently prying up my left pant leg to uncover the large scrape on my knee. 

   I'd seen it already while I was taking a shower, and I'd managed to wash away most of the blood, but it still looks pretty morbid. Looking over to examine Daehyun's expression, I see that his face has paled slightly, and it appears to be a bit queasy. I cast him an apologetic look and he just shakes his head wordlessly.

   I open up the kit and withdraw a small bottle of disinfectant and some cotton swabs, then extract a long piece of gauze and a tiny roll of tape.

   Just as I'm twisting the cap off the bottle, Daehyun stops me.

   "Do you want me to do it for you?" he asks.

   I look at him. He looks uncertain, and for some reason, a bit conflicted and confused.

   I give him a smile as thankful as I can make it, and then nod my head softly, hopefully reassuring whatever he's feeling concerned of. 

   "Deh, that would be nice," I say.

  Hands almost inconspicuously trembling, he takes the bottle from me, then picks up a cotton swab and dips it inside. It emerges with a small curl of a filmy, transparent substance on its tip.

   He rolls up his sleeves as he keans over my leg and gently begins to apply it onto my scrape tenderly. It tingles and burns slightly, making me wince. He pauses over the wound for a moment and looks up at me.

   "You okay?" he inquires.

   Again I notice just how good-looking he is, and I can hardly believe that he is here, dressing my injury, with me. My entire life, the only boys who I'd known were Yongguk and his brothers, and no one else. But now that Daehyun is here, I don't know why I feel this way. The feeling that come over my body every time I see him is different than how I feel when I look at any of the boys that I grew up beside, though I can't discern exactly what the difference is.

   Now, as he looks up at me, I feel my stomach flutter and a tingle runs through me, down my arms along to my fingertips.

   What is it about you that causes me to react this way? I wonder to myself. Why did Yongguk feel insecure of you being near me when he's originally such a good judge of character? You are the complete opposite of what he should be worrying about...

  He tilts his head to the side suddenly, tearing me from my reverie. I look back into his questioning eyes. 

  "Ah, yeh, I'm fine!" I say, a bit too loudly. He moves back, startled. Blood rushes to my face. "Ah, sorry!" I say, too loudly again. I clap a hand over my mouth, then grab a pillow from beside me and use it to hide my burning face. 

  I usually don't embarass myself this easily; I've learned to keep a calm demeanor throughout my life growing up, preventing me from the same outbursts as I just did.  

  I'm just about to apologize for my brashness, but before I can, I hear a soft, amused laugh. 

  Widening my eyes and looking out from over the pillow, I watch as Daehyun's pleased, relaxed face takes the gauze and starts wrapping it around my knee.

  "Could you pass me the tape?" he asks, when he notices my expression. He pauses. "Uh...what?" 

  "Daehyun-ah," I say, smiling hesitantly. "That...that was the first time that I ever heard you laugh." 

  His eyes linger on mine for a long moment, confused, and...a bit scared. I stare back, intrigued. I open my mouth to say something, anything, maybe so that I can hear that precious laugh again. But before I can he looks away quickly, like he's been burned, grabbing the tape by himself. 

  When he's finished sticking a piece of tape arond the gauze, he gets up abruptly and walks away, leaving me to watch him as he leaves. 

*~(~*~(~*~(~*

   I'm standing in a vast field, dark gray flowers surrounding me. The sky is a light charcoal, and the grass, which reach up to my waist, varies in hues between black and white. The breeze hits me lightly, smelling faintly of smoke. 

  The sound of thunder rumbles across the sky, and, instinctively, I duck down into the grass, fear coursing through me. 

  I see a tall figure in the distance, obviously masculine. His long arms are up and waving across the field to me. 

   "Sarang!" a familiar voice yells. Yongguk. 

   Solace immediately washes through me. Yongguk will take me from this strange place, I think, reassured. He will save me. 

  I stand up, but suddenly the grass curls around my ankles, rooting me to the spot. Panic races through my veins, and I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Terror-stricken, I look up to see Yongguk, but another figure is there, standing cautiously behind him. I cannot place who he is. 

  He steps slightly to the right of Yongguk, giving me a better view of him. He is tall and clad all in black, blending easily with the surrounding. A long hood covers his eyes and nose, but a grin can be easily seen, spreading to his ears. In his left hand is a long, curved knife. 

  Frantic, I scream as loud as I can for Yongguk to run, run as far away from here as he can. The thunder rolls over my words, strangling them until all that comes out is nonsensical. Yongguk just waves back wordlessly. 

  And then the man strikes him down, his blood spurting across the dark flowers, the crimson red of it all being the only flash of color in the gray field. I scream in despair, but again, the thunder covers it.

   Suddenly, the storm strengthens and rages all around me, and I'm lost in a swirl of angry gray. The ground disappears from underneath me, and before I know it, I'm falling, flailing, and twisting into nothing, my screams lost into oblivion.

   And then I'm sitting in the same field again, but instead of the black and white hues of everything, vibrant colors surround me. The flowers vary from bursts of blue and purple and pink and yellow, and the breeze smells sweet and fresh.

   Sitting in front of me is Daehyun, so close that if I reach out a hand, I can touch his face easily.

   Tears already running down my face I rush forward and wrap my arms around him.

   "Daehyun-ah," I gasp, "Yongguk - he's - he's - " I choke on my words.

   "I know," he answers softly into my hair.

   I freeze. Something in him feels off; alien. Questioningly, I lean back so I can look at his face. He's smiling, a smile that I've never seen before, one that seems so open and genuine that it confuses me, it confuses me to death. 

   "But, Daehyun..." 

  He looks away from me, eyes transfixed on something to my left. 

  Befuddled, I look over to where he is gazing. There are shadows in the far corner of field, and they are advancing swiftly. Dread runs through me, my breaths speeding up drastically. 

  I turn to Daehyun, hysteria rushing through me, when I see that his face is changing, twisting into something so grotesque that I stumble back, my anxiousness growing into horror. His hand latches onto my arm, and then it's not Daehyun smiling back at me, it's a large man with a black hood pulled down his face, mouth stretched into a grin. 

  "You're next," he whispers into my ear. 

  And then the shadows are upon us, and I'm lost in darkness. 

  I wake up covered in a coat of sweat, breaths coming in long, constricted gasps. My mind struggles to recollect the images of my dream, but the thoughts drift from me just as I try to settle on them. 

  I'm lying in Mi Yung Ahjumma's couch, a blanket covering my legs. The house is silent, save for the gentle sound of pages turning. 

  Memories of the past night drift towards me, and I sit up and peel the blanket off me, then fold it and set it aside. My feet feel soft and clammy on the floor when I stand. 

   I walk to the kitchen, where the the rustle of paper is originating. 

  Mi Yung Ahjumma sits at the dining table, a large gardening book in her hands. She smiles when she sees me, then bends the corner of the page she's on and sets it down. I give her a hug, and she pats my back tentatively before she lets go. 

  "I see you're up, sleepyhead," she comments cheerily. "Daehyun told me all about last night." 

  I nod, then laugh shakily, hoping that she won't notice how pale or ashen I look. "Yeah," I say. "Thunder and lightning storms sort of freak me out a bit." 

  Her face creases in worry. "I know, sweetie. You must have been so scared." She shakes her head, then gives me a determine look. "I was talking to Daehyun earlier, sweetheart. If you're wondering where he is, he's gone out. It's pretty late already, and he thought someone should be looking after the shop." 

  I nod, a smile on my lips. How considerate, I think, remembering the heroic boy from last night. 

   "Go on," I urge. 

  She grins. "Well, we were talking about how you live all alone by yourself and how sometimes it can be very dangerous," she explains. I nod, and she goes on. "We were thinking...how would you like to have a roommate, to help you with things at home?" 

  My eyebrows crinkle together. "Deh?" 

   Her grin widens, the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkling. 

  "I've suggested that Daehyun shoulsd start living at your place." 

Thank you for reading the fifth chapter of "Love In Murder"! It was sort of rushed, so please forgive any mistakes! PLEASE don't be a silent reader and leave a comment at the bottom! Thank's again for all the encouragement and love ~TheNightCircus~