O N E

Summer of year twenty thirteen, when both of his parents together with his younger brother died and he was forced to go to Busan to live with his grandmother—Kwon Soomin. It was an unexpected death, but then, death had always been like that. He loves surprises, catching people off guard. They were caught on a car crash on their way home, their SUV got off the track and fell to the cliff and somehow, miraculously, he survived. After the accident, his life was never been the same.

He kept his eyes in front of him, staring straight to her black ones. He stared at her pale white face, shadowed eyes, cracking lips. He stared at the blood trickling down her gnashed throat, staining her white dress. Small hand was holding, clinging dearly to the tattered teddy bear. For people, he could be staring in the blank air, but for Kwon Jiyong, he could see her like the child in front of him still suffer from personhood. Like she was still flesh and bones but he knew better. "Oppa," her lips uttered desperately, a word that came hissing with shivering cold tone. Her voice was tiny and almost like a painful low screech. He didn't answer, he just stared at her. "Oppa," she called again. "I am lost, a guy tricked me and told me he knew where my momma is. I am looking for her, have you seen her?" The child's hair was long and messy, thick strands, drying blood and mud. Her dress was ripped off, half soaked in blood and mud, her body filthy with dirt, one of her red shiny shoe was missing. What hell did this innocent child went through?

"Jiyong," his grandmother called him, making him dutifully looked at her. Soomin was sitting next to him, knitting a blue scarf at the silence of the long train ride to Busan. "Don't entertain them," the moment he woke up, he had been hearing that from her. Don't entertain them because you will bind them to you, they won't find peace. They will follow you. "I know." His voice was meek as h stared at the view outside the window. The blue sky was cloudless and it was almost a month since he lost them.

He missed his mom and her melodic laughter. He missed his dad and his habit of ruffling his hair and he missed Hanbin and his declaration of wanting to be like him.

He missed his family.

He wanted to see them again, he wanted to talk to them, to have the chance to say that he loved them and that he was sorry and it hurts, that he was alone and it was lonely and it was and will never be the same.

But, he never saw them again.

×××

There were days when time felt so fast and sometimes, it felt awfully slow. He went to sleep to bed, when he woke up, he was already preparing to go to school. Summer was already over. He could have been surfing in those days, they could have been hiking. They were planning to go on a small Asian tour, to Cambodia, Bhutan, Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia. But then, all of it was gone in a snap, in a wrong turn, in a late step on brakes and because of a slippery road. It was all gone.

Gone. Disappeared and he was left alone.

He spent summer in his room, staring outside the window, reading the same book over and over, walk in the whole town once in a while and see places, people and things no one else could see but him.

He got off his grandmother's huge vintage pickup truck. Soomin was a lovely lady, someone who work on gardens and sat on veranda to knit, goes to kitchen to bake the sweetest cupcake and the tastiest cookies yet she drive such huge vehicle. "Bye," he tried to smile for her. He doesn't want her tginking that he was suffering from depression and make him go to theraphy. It was normal. It was normal to mourn, to be sad at the tragedy that only you survived in exchange of your family. "Don't entertain them, Jiyong." Soomin said almost in monotone. Pursing his lips he gave a tight nod. "I know." He waved his hand goodbye before jogging his way to his bew school. You'll bind them to you.

The moment he entered the school premises, all eyes were in him. He was the shining all sad new toy, the poor boy who lost his everything against death. One thing that he hated about that town. The way on how everyone knew your story. How everyone claimed to know, to understand when they never did. It was his story, not theirs and only him knew that story. "Jiyong!" Youngbae, one of his childhood friends, greeted him, draping his arm over his shoulder. "It's so nice to see you study here!" If it was under different circumstances, he could have been laughing because he couldn't really understand what he was saying through his high pitched accent combined with weird word pronunciation. He nodded, "Change is good." Was it? Youngbae grinned and started bombarding him with things about school, about people he doesn't know nor care, then setting plans, which he doesn't even know if he'll attend or not. He doesn't care. But him saying things rather than apologizing and trying to euphemize the death of his family was way better. Sometimes, people don't understand that feeling sorry wasn't comforting at all. That it was bull. That's one thing that he liked about Youngbae, he doesn't hover. Now, if only he could speak in an accent that he could understand, it would be better.

Class was somehow bearable aside from the part in which he was introducing himself and that part in which everyone was sorry for his lost. He couldn't t understand why they were apologizing to him. It was not their fault. happens. Unfortunately, he was the innocent target this time. "Hi." He stood up and was even asked to introduce himself in front of their class, making it tier. Every girl was gushing on him, guys making fun if his accent when they have much funnier accent. "I am Kwon Jiyong. From Mapo-gu, Seoul. As you all know, happens and I lost my family and it is awful, so stop saying sorry because it's not your fault." A long silence followed. He said too much but they claimed to understand. Do they really? They thought he was just so sad and he needed understanding, that he just said those because of frustrations and depressing. Why wouldn't they take his words for it? Why do they act as if his words were pieces of puzzles, codes that needed to be decoded? He doesn't want them apologizing but why do they keep apologizing? He doesn't want them comforting him, so why do they keep doing so?

Why can't they just take his words for it?

Oh yeah, he forgot, it was the mortal code to let people be sorry to your lost even if they don't give a single .

Hissing weakly, he heaved a heavy sigh, taking his seat with lips pursed tightly. "Kwon," Mr. Seo, his homeroom teacher called him. He looked at him, he has this kind smile in his lips which he was forced to return. "It's okay. You will be okay," Jiyong nodded. Okay? You lost your family in one go, three in one accident. How can you be okay? It will never be okay. He shut his eyes tightly and the moment he opened it, he took a sharp gasp as he came face to face with him, a guy pale white, eyes hollowed, in his forehead a bullet hole looked back to him, blood oozing out, streaming down the contour of his lifeless face. There were just times in which he still couldn't get the hang of them appearing any time they pleased. "Mister..." His breath was a cold winter breeze. He ignored him yet his eyes remained fixated to him, his every hair raising at their closeness. He could feel the shivering aura of the only thing that separated him from the old guy.

Death.

His heart was pounding hard in his chest. "Kwon," Mr. Seo called him and he turned to look at him. He saw the guy pulled away and walked in slow then fast then slow pace out of the room. "Yes?" He inquired. His heart calming down in his chest. "Are you okay?" He tried to smile and nod. He probably look ridiculous right now, he thought. Was it okay? Was it okay to see them? Maybe, he wasn't okay.

Maybe he was going crazy.

×××

During lunch, Youngbae succeeded in pulling him to the cafeteria, introducing him to his friends, who, apparently, was his team mates in the school soccer team. On their way to their table, they were inviting him to play soccer with them yet he refused. Soccer wasn't his sports though he was part of the varsity team on his previous school yet, he honestly preferred basketball over it. It was better if it was skateboarding or bmx-ing. Thinking of sports, brought fresh batch of painful memories, something that was already lost , the days in which he couldn't return to.

He silently took his seat, in front of him he placed his tray down which only contain one tetra pack of strawberry milk and a clubhouse sandwich. "You need to eat more," Youngbae said over a spoon of rice. Jiyong just shrug in response not actually wanting to dwell on foods. Food actually made him sick, somehow he felt like developing an eating disorder. Which, of course was lame. He peeled the plastic wrapper of his sandwich as Youngbae's friends started piling up on their table. "Hi." A girl greeted him with a beautiful smile and lashes batting seductively to him. Jiyong looked at him, she was trying to be cute. She was pretty, he thought, bit then, one look and you'll know that she was the campus' queen bee—or in other terms, .

"Ahn Sohee," she extended her arm to him in hope of shaking his hand but apparently he was not inch interested. Jiyong glance at her then to her waiting hand. "Kwon Jiyong," he focused on his food, not bothering for a quick handshake. Sohee let out a breathe of disbelief as everyone mocked her and praised Jiyong for turning her down. Jiyong, who was not a bit interested, just kept his eyes on the table adjacent to theirs, no one was sitting on it. And the dark atmosphere that seemed to loom over it was an enough reason for its isolation. The table was sitting at the cafeteria's corner and though there was a bad need for a table no one sat on it or even looked at it. He wondered; when he saw a girl approaching it. Walking slow and head hanged low, her dark hair almost covering her face. Atop her already hot school coat was a heavy black jacket.

She held her tray too close to her, when two ladies came to her. He recognized both as he had his biology with them. If he was right, they were Jiyeon and Gayoon. Gayoon wrapped her arm around her shoulder. The girl looked at Gayoon with panicked expression. Jiyeon, on the other hand, grabbed her box of strawberry milk, opened it and took one quick sip before dumping all its contents on her tray, dousing her food to waste. They both shared a good laugh before leaving her. Gayoon clapped her back as Jiyeon tapped her on her upper arm after dropping the empty box back to her tray.

She sighed, before sitting down, skidding her wasted tray of food on the empty table. He kept his eyes on her. She started looking left and right, expression tight and grim, she was hissing under her breath. It was as if she was talking to someone, or maybe not just to someone. Jiyong concentrated, tried reading her lips.

"Don't touch them."

"I told you, I'm okay."

"Stop."

"Who's she?" Jiyong turned to Youngbe. "Who?" The latter looked at the direction he was looking, to the she that he was referring. The moment he recognized whom he was pertaining to, he turned to look at him with a serious expression. "Dude, you don't want to know her or mess with her." Jiyong looked at him, questioning. Youngbae lifted one of his hands, pointed his temple with one finger while moving it in a swirling motion. Jiyong turned to look back to her, she was still hissing, looking left and right, still talking. He tried reading her lips again.

"Stop. I told you to stop."

"I don't care, it doesn't matter."

"I'm okay."

"So, who's she?" He was determined to know her. Youngbae sighed. "That's Park Sandara, don't go near her or even look at her. Seriously, dude, she's crazy." He took a long sip on his juice. "And you know what they say, befriend a crazy and you are crazy yourself." He nodded. A second passed and he pushed himself up. He went to buy another strawberry milk and sandwich, placing it on his tray. Youngbae looked at him, shaking his head, thinking that he should have chosen a heavy meal earlier. After buying, to his surprised, instead of returning to their table, he walked to Park Sandara's table and sat in front of her.

Dara gasped upon seeing Jiyong sat in front of her. Jiyong grabbed the sandwich he bought and gave it to her. "I'm Kwon Jiyong." She looked at him in full blast bewilderment. Was he insane? She started looking left and right. 'I'm not going to hurt you." He assured, still handing to her the sandwich "I just needed some peace," she blinked at him in disbelief. She turned to.her left and muttered something in a low hissing tone. "Stop. He's n